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jikookncity · 1 day ago

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Soldier Johnny x Reader (smut)

WC: 9.4k, rough sex, spanking, manhandling, wall sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, degradation, dirty talk, riding, doggy

The mansion wasn’t made of gold, but it might as well have been.

Polished marble floors reflected the gleam of the massive chandeliers overhead. Gilded frames lined the walls, each painting more prestigious than the last. Uniformed staff moved with quiet precision, and the daughter of the diplomat—Y/N—strode through it all like she owned the place. Because in many ways, she did.

A silken robe clung to her legs as she moved through the hall, muttering curses under her breath. “I’m not a child,” she seethed. “I don’t need a babysitter just because someone’s threatening Daddy’s oil deals.”

Behind her, her assistant struggled to keep up. “Ma’am, it’s not just about your father. There was a direct threat to you.”

“I’m always getting threats. It’s part of being beautiful, rich and female in politics.”

Still, her heart pounded. Not that she’d show it.

She was halfway to the grand dining room when two sharply dressed guards stepped in her way. “Miss, you’ve been asked to remain in your wing until further notice.”

Y/N’s brow twitched. “Excuse me?”

One of the guards tapped the side of his earpiece. “Your new protection detail is en route. You’ll be briefed then.”

She scoffed. “Protection detail? You make it sound like I’m some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did in Paris when you ‘lost’ your security team at that underground club?” the guard said dryly.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “That was one time, and I still made it back before sunrise.”

The guards didn’t budge.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But he better not be ancient like the last guy. I’m not sharing a damn car with someone who uses a flip phone.”

They didn’t respond. Just kept still like statues, until one of them finally turned his head, nodded to someone over her shoulder, and said, “He’s here.”

She turned.

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t ancient. Far from it.

He was tall, lean with broad shoulders that filled out his tan tactical gear in the most obscene way. The shirt clung to a body forged in discipline—cut abs, thick arms, short black hair and strong hands. His eyes were sharp, his jawline edged like stone, and the scar slicing across his brow only added to the danger that radiated from him in waves.

Johnny Suh.

She didn’t know him, but she felt him.

His eyes locked on hers, cold, assessing.

“This is the girl?” he asked, glancing at the guards like she wasn’t standing right there.

“I’m not a girl,” she snapped before anyone could answer. “And who the hell are you?”

He didn’t flinch. “Your new shadow.”

“You mean bodyguard.”

“I mean I go where you go. I sleep where you sleep. If someone breathes too close to you, I’m the last face they see before they drop.”

A chill ran down her spine.

She folded her arms over her chest, lifting her chin. “Cute. You practiced that line in the mirror?”

He stepped closer, towering over her. His voice dropped, slow and deliberate. “No. But I’m not here to charm you. I’m here to keep you alive. So if I say don’t move, you freeze. If I say run, you run. If I say you’re not going to that party, you’re not going.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I do now.”

Her chest heaved with restrained fury.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

She didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or climb him like a tree.

By nightfall, her bags were packed, and the mood in the estate had shifted.

She wasn’t given a chance to argue. Not this time.

Her father’s security chief came into her room just as she was applying a fresh coat of lipstick.

“You’re being extracted,” he said simply. “They hit one of the convoys. It’s real now.”

She paused. “Who?”

“We don’t know yet. Could be a splinter group. Could be political retaliation.”

“I’m not leaving—”

“Yes, you are. Johnny’s already cleared the route.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “And where exactly is he taking me? A bunker?”

“Close. A safehouse right across the border, from there he'll lead a team to deliver you safely to your primary dwelling in your homeland. Quiet. Low profile.”

“That sounds awful.”

“That’s the point.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I need my perfume, at least.”

“You need to go.”

Within ten minutes, she was being rushed out the side entrance under darkness. Johnny was waiting beside a beat-up black car that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. He opened the back door wordlessly.

She stared at the vehicle in horror. “You expect me to ride in that?”

“You want to live or look cute?”

“I want both.”

He didn’t smile. “Pick one.”

With a scoff, she climbed in. “This is so not cute.”

He got in beside her, started the car, and didn’t say a word for the first half hour.

Silence reigned in the cabin except for the hum of the tires on asphalt.

She shifted in her seat, annoyed he wasn’t at least trying to talk to her. “So what’s your story? You always this charming, or is it just with women you’re forced to protect?”

His eyes stayed on the road. “I don’t do small talk.”

“Shocking. You’re such a delight.”

He gave her a side glance. “You really think pouting and being a brat is going to work on me?”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve read your file. The parties, the fake names, the sneaking past security with wigs. You’re not subtle, princess.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to. I know how to keep people alive. That’s what I care about.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re unbelievable.”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

That night, they stopped at a grimy roadside motel just before the border.

The room reeked of smoke and mildew. There was only one bed.

“One bed?” she gasped.

“Better than sleeping in the car,” he muttered, already setting his duffel down.

“I’m not sleeping next to you.”

“Then take the floor.”

She gawked at him. “I don’t sleep on floors.”

“I don’t care where you sleep as long as you don’t leave the room.”

He stripped off his jacket, revealing an undershirt that clung to his body like a second skin. The muscles in his arms flexed as he reached into his bag for a weapon to set beside the bed.

Y/N tried not to stare.

Tried.

Failed.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” he said without looking.

Her face burned. “I was not staring.”

He finally met her gaze, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not as subtle as you think, princess.”

She turned her back, cheeks flaming, heart hammering in her chest.

Maybe being stuck with Johnny Suh wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

But God help her… She was not going to survive this man.

--------------------

The next morning, the sun barely broke through the grime-streaked motel window. The walls were thin, the bed was lumpy, and the air smelled like stale smoke and something fried a decade ago.

And Johnny Suh hadn’t slept a damn second.

Between Y/N’s tossing, her sighing, and the faint scent of her expensive perfume on the pillow they unfortunately had to share, it was a miracle he hadn’t lost his mind.

Now she sat in the passenger seat of their beat-up sedan, bare legs stretched out, polished toenails resting on the dashboard—disrespecting it in a way that made his military-trained brain twitch.

“Would you relax?” she drawled, leaning back, her tank top rising just enough to flash the tiniest peek of stomach. “It’s not like this car has resale value.”

“I said feet down.”

“Or what?” she smirked. “You’ll spank me?”

His hand visibly tightened on the steering wheel.

Y/N grinned to herself.

She’d noticed it. The subtle flicker in his eyes. The slight freeze every time she let her mouth get a little too filthy. He never acknowledged it, never cracked—but she could feel the tension in him, sharp as a wire pulled taut.

Johnny Suh might’ve been trained in a hundred forms of warfare, but he was not prepared for her brand of bratty flirtation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head. “You’re not thinking dirty thoughts, are you, Sergeant Suh?”

He didn’t blink. “I’m thinking about how easy it would be to leave you on the side of the road.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You’d leave me to die?”

“Not to die. Just to shut up for five minutes.”

“You wish I would shut up.”

“I do. Every second.”

She laughed and turned to look out the window, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She might’ve been kidnapped out of her palace life, stripped of her private chef and ten-step skincare routine, but at least she had one thing going for her:

She made Johnny Suh sweat.

Hours later, they pulled up to another motel. This one even worse than the last—if that was possible.

“Are you sure this is safe?” she sniffed as they walked through the creaking hallway. “I think something just ran under the vending machine.”

Johnny didn’t look back. “Don’t care. It’s remote. No digital trace. And no one would think someone like you would stay here.”

“Oh, you mean someone clean?”

He ignored her. Unlocked the door. Tossed his bag in.

She followed him in slowly, blinking at the one (again, single) bed. “You’re kidding.”

“I don’t joke.”

“Not even during sex?”

His eye twitched.

She noticed.

He turned away.

She smiled.

After a long, lukewarm shower (she cursed loudly when she found out there was no hot water), Y/N stepped back into the room in a towel and dropped her dirty clothes in a heap on the bed.

Among them: her lacy red lingerie set, still damp from the steam.

Johnny, seated on the chair cleaning his sidearm, didn’t look up—at first.

But then she dropped her towel.

Right in front of the bathroom door.

And walked to the bed in nothing but the tiniest silk shorts and a paper-thin tank top.

He froze.

Didn’t lift his head.

But she saw the tic in his jaw. The way his fingers stopped on the weapon.

Saw his throat bob as he forced himself to keep looking anywhere but her.

“Oh no,” she said, faux-innocent. “Did I leave that there?”

She bent down casually to scoop the lingerie off the bed, fully aware of how high her shorts rode up as she did.

“I swear this set always makes everyone go quiet,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

He still didn’t respond.

But he wasn’t breathing normally anymore.

“Something wrong, soldier?” she purred.

“Go to bed,” he said, voice tight, strained.

“I am in bed.”

“I mean sleep. Not whatever this is.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it,” she said, stretching, arms above her head, tank top lifting with her. “We’re sharing beds. Sharing air. You must have imagined it at least once.”

His voice was a low growl. “You don’t want to know what I’ve imagined.”

Her breath hitched.

That—that was the first time he cracked. Just a sliver. Just a flash of what was boiling under that rigid control.

He stood up suddenly, tossing his weapon on the table and turning away, his back muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “Put on some goddamn clothes.”

She smirked. “Jealous I’m more armed than you right now?”

His hand clenched into a fist.

“Last warning, Y/N.”

“Or what?” she teased, voice like silk. “You’ll put me over your lap?”

He didn’t say a word.

Didn’t have to.

Because the silence that followed was electric.

And she knew then: Johnny Suh might not act on it. Might bury it under rules and orders and cold glares.

But he was thinking it. Every single filthy thing.

And that was almost better than the real thing.

-------------

The motel room was quiet—finally. The dim lamp on the nightstand flickered with every surge in the old wiring, and the only sound came from Johnny’s slow, steady breathing.

He was asleep.

Laid out on his side of the bed, one arm slung across his chest, the other resting near the loaded pistol tucked under his pillow.

Y/N had waited. Waited until his breaths evened out, until she could slip off the bed without making a sound.

She was sick of this.

Sick of the chipped paint, of the no-hot-water showers, of her so-called "protector" acting like she was a prisoner.

She wanted music. A drink. A reminder of her life before this mess.

She changed silently, sliding on a tight black top she’d stuffed deep in her duffel and a pair of dark jeans that hugged her hips. A tiny tube of lip gloss—the only makeup she managed to sneak past Johnny’s military-grade packing inspection—gleamed between her fingers as she twisted off the cap and slicked it across her mouth.

She smacked her lips once in the mirror, then moved to the door, turning the handle slowly.

But just as she pulled, the weight of a large, calloused hand clamped over hers.

She froze.

A deep voice—raspy from sleep and sharp with warning—cut through the dark: “Where do you think you’re going?”

Y/N whipped around to find Johnny towering behind her, still half-draped in the shadows, shirtless and dangerous even with his eyes half-lidded from sleep.

“I—I was just gonna step out,” she lied, yanking her hand back.

His palm stayed pressed to the door, keeping it firmly shut. “Try again.”

She lifted her chin, irritated by how her pulse quickened just looking at him. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. Your safety is my business. Did you forget what I’m here for?”

“I didn’t ask for you to be here,” she snapped, her voice rising.

He leaned in close, eyes locked on hers, voice like gravel. “No. But your father did. Because people want you dead. And walking into some shady bar in the middle of nowhere with that lip gloss and those jeans? That’s not just stupid—it’s suicide.”

Her brows knit together, heat rushing to her cheeks. “You don’t get to control my life.”

“Actually, I do. Until this mission is over, your life is mine to control. If you hate that, take it up with the people sending death threats.”

She shoved at his chest—not that he moved. “I want a new bodyguard.”

His mouth twisted. “Too bad.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping an octave. “I’m all you’ve got. And whether you like it or not, you’re not stepping outside this room unless I say it’s safe.”

Y/N glared up at him, chest heaving. “You’re a dictator.”

“I’m your bodyguard.”

“Well, you suck at it.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he wasn’t finished.

“Change back into the clothes I gave you. Now.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, eyes dropping briefly to her skin-tight jeans before quickly returning to her face. “Tank top. Shorts. Back in bed. Or I’ll stand here and make sure you do it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He stared. Unflinching. Dead serious.

She stormed past him with a frustrated hiss, grumbling under her breath as she peeled off the outfit and yanked her night clothes back on.

By the time she emerged, he was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Happy?” she spat.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

Just nodded toward the bed like she was a misbehaving child and said, “Go to sleep.”

She crawled in, back to him, seething.

And she didn’t say another word.

-------------------

Y/N was up before him.

She got dressed. Pulled her hair up. Didn’t say a thing.

When Johnny finally stirred and stretched with a groggy sigh, he looked over—only to be met with total silence.

No teasing. No sass. Not even a glare.

She ignored him as he moved around the room, didn’t respond when he asked if she was ready to hit the road. Just slipped her sunglasses on and walked past him.

“Y/N,” he called.

Nothing.

“Silent treatment now?” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Still nothing.

“You’re mad because I stopped you from getting kidnapped, assaulted, or worse?”

Not even a blink.

Johnny let out a low sigh, muttering to himself as he followed her out of the motel: “Gonna be a long drive.”

The road stretched endlessly ahead of them, baking under the late afternoon sun. Dust kicked up from the tires as Johnny drove in silence, eyes steady on the road, jaw set like concrete.

Beside him, Y/N didn’t say a word.

Not a single complaint about the cheap coffee from the gas station. Not one flirtatious remark or bratty jab. Just silence.

And somehow, that was worse than all the rest.

He let it go for hours.

But the quiet started to gnaw at him.

She wasn’t just some civilian to protect anymore—she had a voice, an attitude, a personality that had wormed its way under his skin, whether he liked it or not.

He missed her noise. Her energy. Her fire.

His grip on the wheel loosened, fingers tapping restlessly against it.

Finally, he exhaled. “Look… I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Still, nothing.

“I stand by what I said. You leaving would’ve been dangerous. But…” His voice softened. “I could’ve said it differently.”

A pause.

“I just—I need you to understand how serious this is. You matter. And people are out there, trying to hurt you. That’s not a theory. It’s real.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away.

But eventually, she gave a short, bitter laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

Johnny glanced at her, surprised to hear her voice again.

She turned to look out the window, lips tight. “You think this is new to me? I grew up with guards outside my bathroom. Had evacuation drills instead of playdates. I’ve known danger since I could pronounce the word.”

Johnny stayed quiet.

She went on, voice colder now. “So yeah, I know sneaking out was stupid. But sometimes? I just want to feel normal for five goddamn seconds.”

The guilt hit him like a sucker punch.

He swallowed, returning his eyes to the road. “You’re right.”

“Damn right I am,” she muttered.

But she didn’t stay quiet after that.

By the time they pulled up to the next motel—a faded, neon-lit dump with water-stained walls and broken ice machines—she was back to groaning dramatically.

“Oh my god. I think something just moved under the vending machine.”

Johnny actually chuckled. “You said that at the last place.”

“Well, it’s probably the same roach. He’s just following us now. We’re his parents.”

Johnny didn’t complain.

Because she was talking again.

And he’d take bratty over silent any day.

That night, the motel room was just as grimy as the others. One bed, flickering lamp, dusty ceiling fan spinning in slow, hypnotic circles.

Johnny lay on his side, half-asleep, shirt off, trying not to focus on the soft sound of her breathing beside him.

Until—

“Wanna know why I wanted to sneak out?”

Her whisper cracked the silence like a whip.

His eyes blinked open slowly. He turned his head, raising a brow at her in the dark. “Why?”

She giggled softly. The sheets rustled as she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

“Because I wanted to get laid.”

Johnny froze.

Her laughter was quiet and wicked as she buried her face in the pillow. “Night, soldier.”

He stared at her back.

Muscles tense. Brain short-circuiting. Every image his imagination had tried to shut down for the past two days came roaring back.

She shifted again, curling up like a cat beneath the thin blanket.

Johnny groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, eyes shut tight.

This girl was going to kill him.

And the worst part? He might let her.

--------------

The next morning, the motel’s shower squealed like it was in pain, and the towels were barely more than rough handkerchiefs, but somehow Johnny still managed to look calm and deadly as ever.

Y/N, on the other hand, pulled on a hoodie (his), sunglasses, and pouted through her yawn. “Tell me there’s at least decent coffee in this hellhole town.”

Johnny glanced up from his phone. “There’s a café a few blocks down. Locals only. Cash only. Looks like they serve real food.”

Her brows lifted. “Like, eggs that weren’t frozen and shipped in a box?”

“Yeah. Try not to act so shocked.”

The café was tiny—two booths, three tables, mismatched chairs, and a chalkboard menu smudged with fingerprints. The kind of place that smelled like syrup, grease, and comfort.

Y/N looked around, skeptical but hungry. She tugged the cap lower over her face as Johnny held the door open.

“Stay close,” he said softly.

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think I’m gonna do, flirt with a lumberjack?”

Johnny grabbed her hand.

She blinked up at him. “Uh—what—”

“If you don’t want anyone thinking bodyguard-client, then we’re a couple. Makes things easier.” He didn’t look at her as he said it. Just steered her toward the back booth, casual but firm.

Her heart stuttered. His fingers were warm, rough, steady.

They slid into the booth. His hand let go slowly. Too slowly. And then he leaned back, eyes scanning the tiny café with practiced calculation.

Y/N opened a menu, even though she wasn’t reading a damn word of it. “You really commit to the bit, huh?”

“It’s not a bit. It’s cover.”

She glanced at their hands. “Yeah. Sure.”

The waitress came and went. Orders placed. Coffee poured. And somewhere between the waffles and the bacon, Y/N started to feel... normal.

It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of place no one would ever look for the daughter of a diplomat hiding from people who wanted her dead.

Johnny even looked relaxed—barely. His guard never dropped completely, but his shoulders weren’t quite so tight. His mouth, not so grim.

She kind of liked it.

As he got up to pay, she pulled her hoodie tighter and nibbled on her toast, only half-listening as the table beside her giggled.

A woman in her late twenties leaned toward her, smiling conspiratorially.

“Sorry,” the stranger whispered. “But is that your boyfriend?”

Y/N turned, blinking behind her sunglasses. “…Huh?”

“The tall one. Paying at the counter. He’s gorgeous. You’re so lucky.”

Y/N grinned, lip curling in a way Johnny would absolutely roll his eyes at. She leaned in, whispering right back:

“I know, right? He’s all mine.”

The woman squealed, hiding her laugh behind her coffee mug. “God, you two are hot.”

Y/N sat back, pleased, sipping her coffee with a little victorious hum.

Johnny returned a few seconds later, sliding the receipt into his jacket pocket.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing,” she said sweetly. “Just talking to my admirers.”

He arched a brow.

“I told her you’re mine,” she added, sipping again. “Didn’t want her getting any ideas.”

Johnny paused mid-step.

A slow exhale left him, and he shook his head with a barely-there smile, chuckling under his breath as he slid back into the booth.

She tilted her head. “What?”

He looked down at his coffee, then at her. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she quipped.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Because out of everyone in the entire world… the one person I can’t be with is the one I’m assigned to protect.”

Her smile faltered just a touch.

But he didn’t give her time to ask what he meant. He grabbed his cup, stood again.

“Let’s go, princess,” he said, back in soldier-mode. “Can’t linger too long in one place.”

Y/N followed.

But she bit her lip the entire walk back.

Because for the first time… she wasn’t sure if pretending was enough anymore.

-------------------

The sky turned gray faster than either of them expected.

It started as a drizzle, tapping against the windshield while Johnny drove in silence, one hand resting on the wheel, the other near his thigh, fingers twitching with tension he wouldn’t name. Y/N had stopped asking where they were going three towns ago. Now she just watched the rain and the trees rushing by, hoodie pulled low over her head, lips silent for once.

Until the drizzle turned into a downpour.

Then into a deluge.

The road ahead blurred beneath sheets of water, the wipers barely keeping up. Johnny cursed under his breath and slowed the car down, squinting to see through the thick curtain of storm.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Road’s flooded.”

He slowed to a crawl and pulled onto a gravel shoulder near a gas station long out of business, just as a flash of lightning cracked the sky.

Rain pounded the roof like bullets.

“Guess we’re stuck,” Y/N said softly.

Johnny exhaled, resting his head briefly against the seat. “Just until it passes.”

It wasn’t long before the chill seeped into the car.

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, teeth subtly chattering despite her efforts to stay composed. The storm outside was brutal, and the heater in the piece-of-shit sedan was practically useless.

Johnny glanced over, brows furrowing.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He stripped off his tactical jacket and held it out to her.

She blinked at it, then at him. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I can handle it. Put it on.”

She didn’t argue. Just slipped her arms through the heavy sleeves and instantly sighed. It was warm, smelled like him—clean soap, leather, something faintly woodsy—and she didn’t bother hiding how good it felt.

A few minutes passed.

She shifted closer.

Then closer.

And then—head resting lightly on his arm, body curled against his side.

Johnny went still.

So still, he might’ve stopped breathing.

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly, eyes fixed on the windshield.

“Body heat,” she said, nonchalant. “Isn’t that what survival experts say?”

He didn’t answer.

She smirked against his shoulder. “Relax, Sergeant. I’m not jumping your bones. I’m freezing. And as my bodyguard, I think it’s in your job description to protect my wellbeing, not just my life.”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

She chuckled, still pressed into him. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I got kidnapped.”

He looked down at her, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Debatable.”

Her voice softened after a beat. “Why did you become a soldier?”

Johnny didn’t respond right away.

Rain hammered the roof, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Grew up with nothing,” he finally said. “Enlisted right out of high school. Needed structure. Purpose. Didn’t think I’d be good at anything else.”

She nodded quietly. “And why’d you take this job?”

His fingers tapped lightly on his thigh, like he was measuring the weight of the answer.

“I don’t usually do private protection. But your father pulled strings. Said you were in real danger. That it needed to be me.” His voice dropped lower. “Didn’t know what I was signing up for.”

She tilted her face up. “Me, you mean?”

His gaze cut sideways, expression unreadable. “Not what I expected.”

She didn’t press. But she noticed—how his throat bobbed, how his jaw tensed like he wanted to ask her something too.

But didn’t.

Instead, she sat up suddenly, peeling off his jacket and handing it back.

“Rain’s stopping.”

He blinked. “What?”

She nodded at the windshield. “See? Lighter now. We can go.”

He took the jacket slowly, eyes still on her face.

She buckled herself in and turned to face forward. “Come on, soldier. Clock’s ticking.”

Johnny started the engine again, gears grinding slightly as the car pulled away from the shoulder.

Neither of them spoke.

But the warmth of her lingered against his arm.

And for the rest of the drive, he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d fit so perfectly there.

The rain was still falling in thick sheets when they pulled into the parking lot of the next motel.

Johnny killed the engine and looked out the windshield. The “reception” building leaned to one side like it had survived a hurricane. One of the windows was boarded up. The neon sign buzzed half-lit, flickering like a dying star.

They both walked out to take a closer look getting soaked, even though they pulled their hoodies up.

Y/N stared.

Her mouth dropped open.

“No.”

Johnny sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not sleeping there.”

“We don’t have options.”

“It looks like the set of a horror film, Johnny!”

“And yet, it’s perfect,” he said dryly, reaching for the door handle. “Low profile, no cameras, no questions. Exactly what we need right now.”

She made no move to follow him. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Watch me.”

She started walking, boots stomping through puddles. The storm hadn't let up—it was soaking her instantly—but she didn’t stop. She walked back toward the car, muttering angrily under her breath.

Johnny’s jaw tensed. Water dripped off his chin as he followed.

“Y/N.”

She didn’t turn around.

“I said get inside.”

“I said no.”

That was it.

In three long strides, he was behind her.

Before she could react, a warm, wet, solid arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her hands behind her back. She yelped as her body slammed—gently, but firmly—against the side of the car.

The rain soaked her through instantly.

“Johnny—”

He pressed in close, his chest flush to her back, his breath hot at her ear despite the cold rain.

“When I tell you to do something,” he growled, low and guttural, “you do that shit.”

Y/N gasped, breath caught in her throat. His voice was deeper. Commanding. Nothing like the usual tight-lipped, composed protector. His fingers gripped her wrists behind her, not painful, but inescapable.

“I’m not one of your palace servants,” he murmured darkly. “You don’t get to throw a tantrum with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as the rain continued to pour, soaking her hair, her clothes. She tried pulling free—but his grip didn’t budge.

She bit her lip hard.

Then tilted her chin, looking up at him over her shoulder.

Big eyes. Wet lashes. Full lips trembling.

“I’m cold,” she whispered.

Johnny’s jaw clenched.

“Not playing games with you tonight.”

“I’m not playing either,” she said, gaze burning into his.

A beat of silence passed between them—thick and pulsing.

Then he released her hands with a tug, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him.

She stumbled slightly, breathless, following.

“Johnny—”

He didn’t look back.

He dragged her through the rain and into the ratty motel lobby, the door creaking open under his boot.

The inside smelled like damp carpet and cheap pine cleaner.

The guy at the front desk barely glanced up from his TV.

Johnny didn’t speak until the key hit his palm and the door to their room slammed shut behind them.

Both of them dripping. Soaked to the bone. Breathing hard.

He tossed her a towel.

She caught it with wide eyes, heart still racing, lips parted.

Johnny didn’t look at her. He ran a hand over his wet hair again, stepping past her toward the bathroom.

“Next time,” he said without turning, “do us both a favor and get inside when I tell you to.”

He shut the door behind him.

Y/N stood frozen, towel clutched in her hands, chest heaving.

That tone.

That grip.

That voice.

She was in trouble.

And for the first time on this trip—she liked it.

-----------

The motel room was still and silent, save for the hum of rain against the window and the occasional crackle of faulty electricity in the wall.

Johnny walked out of the bathroom, jaw tight, hair damp, and irritation radiating off him like steam. He tossed his wet shirt onto a chair and flicked off the overhead light before sinking heavily onto the edge of the bed, back to Y/N, clearly still fuming.

Y/N peeked at him from where she was curled on the far side, biting back a grin.

“You need to relax,” she whispered, scooting toward him and slipping under the covers beside his broad back. “You’re way too uptight. Seriously, it can’t be healthy.”

She reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder, teasing gently. “Maybe you should relieve some of that tension—”

Johnny’s hand snapped to her wrist instantly.

She gasped.

He didn’t look at her, but his grip was firm. “Go to sleep.”

And then—suddenly, effortlessly—he manhandled her, flipping her back onto her side of the bed like she weighed nothing. She landed with a shocked little breath, the bed bouncing slightly beneath her.

“What the—Johnny—!”

“Sleep,” he said lowly, voice edged with warning.

But she wasn’t thinking about sleep.

She was thinking about how easy it had been for him to toss her. How strong his hands were. How deep that voice was. How wet she was, throbbing now under the blanket, her thighs clenching with every pulse.

She stared at the ceiling, biting her lip.

Minutes passed.

Too many.

Her body burned.

She needed—something.

Quiet as she could, she shifted. Edged closer to the side of the bed. One foot slipped out from under the sheet. Then the other.

Just as her hand reached for the floor—

Johnny’s fingers wrapped around her wrist again.

Harder this time.

She barely had time to yelp before he yanked her back into the bed with a rough pull that made her squeak. Her back hit the mattress—his body following instantly, covering hers.

His arms braced on either side of her, shadowing her completely, rain still audible in the background but fading under the rush of blood in her ears.

His hand grabbed her jaw, tilting her chin up so their faces were barely an inch apart. His eyes—dark, furious, wild—bored into hers.

“You try that again,” he said, voice like a growl against her lips, “and I swear to God, I’m tying you up.”

She let out the softest moan.

He smirked—only slightly. “And not the way you’re imagining.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Bullshit.”

She arched beneath him without thinking, heat exploding through her core. Her face flushed, shame nowhere to be found. Her breath caught. His thigh slotted between hers and she almost whimpered.

“It’s been obvious since day one, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted. He held her gaze.

Still hovering above her, he reached down, found her hand, and interlaced their fingers. Tight.

“You’re staying in bed,” he commanded. “One more word and I’ll gag you too.”

Y/N’s mouth opened. Closed.

She nodded.

Good girl.

Morning light trickled through the window.

The rain had stopped.

But nothing else had moved.

Y/N blinked slowly awake, soft and warm under the covers. Her cheek rested against Johnny’s arm. Their fingers still entwined tightly between them, like neither had let go all night.

Johnny was awake already.

Staring at the ceiling.

Still hard as a rock.

And still very, very aware of the girl curled against him.

The one he can’t have.

The one who just moaned for him the night before.

Fuck.

----------------

They’d been driving for hours.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the windows fogged slightly, and the car’s heater made everything feel too warm, too close. Y/N had kicked off her shoes, curled her legs up on the seat, and unwrapped a lollipop she bought from a gas station two towns back—because of course she’d pick the most suggestive candy possible.

Johnny was focused on the road. Or at least, pretending to be.

“Hey.”

He didn’t look at her. “What?”

She licked slowly at the candy. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

She giggled. “I’m going to anyway.”

Johnny sighed through his nose, knuckles white on the wheel.

“What made you want to be a bodyguard? You seem…too intense for anything else.”

“I am a bodyguard,” he muttered.

“Mhm.” She watched him closely. “You ever get assigned to someone like me before?”

His jaw flexed. “There’s no one like you.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Her grin turned sly. “So… when’s the last time you had sex?”

Johnny didn’t blink. Just stared ahead, dead silent.

“I mean, it has to be a while,” she went on. “You’re so tightly wound all the time. I bet you’ve forgotten how to loosen up.”

Nothing.

“What’s your favorite position?” she asked innocently.

Still no response.

“I’m just curious. It says a lot about a man.” She sucked on the lollipop with an exaggerated moan. “Bet you like it rough. But slow. Deep. Controlling.”

The muscle in Johnny’s jaw ticked again. His eyes narrowed on the road.

She was relentless. “You got a type? Or do you just go for whoever’s desperate enough?”

Another pause. Another sly look.

“Or do you fantasize?” she whispered, leaning closer, her voice soft and dangerous. “About me?”

That was it.

Johnny let out a sharp breath and a hollow laugh. It wasn’t amused. It was bitter. Dry. Raw.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel harder. “Trapped in a car with the one girl I absolutely shouldn’t touch—who clearly wants me so fucking bad—and I have to pretend I don’t notice.”

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

But then it returned, smug and satisfied.

“I do get on your nerves,” she whispered. “I can tell.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t glance her way.

Didn’t give her the satisfaction.

She licked her lips, giggling under her breath as she leaned back, dragging her nails down the inside of her thigh just to make sure he saw it in his peripheral.

Johnny adjusted the rearview mirror.

Said nothing.

But his grip on the wheel tightened.

And his pants? Uncomfortably tight.

The rain had stopped. The border was behind them. And for the first time in what felt like days, Johnny let himself exhale.

The safe house was remote. Quiet. Hidden. Just a single-story cabin tucked behind a thick line of trees, with a working generator, a stocked kitchen, and one single, damn bedroom.

Johnny checked every window, every lock, his movements methodical. His routine. The girl curled up on the couch was safe—for now. They’d made it. All that was left was to wait for the tactical team to extract her.

One more night. Just one. He could handle that.

Johnny headed for the bathroom, peeling his shirt over his head as he walked. The hot water hit his sore muscles, steam fogging up the mirror as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the sink.

It was almost over. She’d be gone by morning. Out of his life. Back to her palace, her security, her world of silk and servants.

So why did that feel like punishment?

He ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to push the thoughts away. Focus. Just one more night.

Johnny stepped out, towel slung low on his hips—only to freeze mid-step.

Y/N was on the bed.

Lingerie. Black. Barely there.

Her legs were spread, panties pulled to the side, fingers rubbing slow circles between her thighs. Her back arched off the sheets as she gasped softly, hips rolling into her own touch.

But her eyes—God, her eyes were locked on him.

He didn't speak. Didn't move.

She moaned, her voice trembling. “Johnny…”

He snapped.

In two long strides, he was at the bed, grabbing her ankles and yanking her to the edge.

She gasped, breath catching as her fingers slipped away.

“Please…” she whispered, wide eyes full of heat and something almost like desperation. “Just once. Just one night.”

Johnny’s chest rose and fell, heavy with restraint. His hands dug into her thighs, his jaw tight.

Then—

He gripped her cheeks with one hand, forcing her lips apart.

And he kissed her.

No. He claimed her.

His tongue shoved into her mouth, deep and possessive, swallowing her moan like he’d been starving for it. Her arms flew around his shoulders, her whole body writhing against him as she opened up completely, helpless under the weight of it—under him.

Johnny pulled back just enough to look at her.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” he growled, pressing his forehead to hers. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? The teasing. The moaning. The little outfits. Every damn look you give me.”

She whimpered, thighs trembling. “So do something about it.”

“Oh, I will.” He grinned, dark and slow, voice a low, feral promise. “But you’re not getting ‘just once.’”

Johnny didn’t give her time to respond. Didn’t give her time to breathe.

He was on her—all over her—mouth crashing into hers again, kissing her so deep her eyes fluttered shut. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, but he pulled back just enough to rip the towel off and toss it aside.

“Open your mouth,” he growled, palm tightening around her cheeks.

Y/N obeyed without thinking—gasping when he spat in her mouth, eyes rolling at the filthy shock of it.

“Swallow.”

She did. Chest rising with a shaky breath, thighs clenching.

Johnny’s hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back as he licked down her neck, biting her shoulder, her collarbone, until she was writhing, already begging.

“You wanna play dirty, sweetheart?” he muttered, dragging his teeth over the swell of her chest before sinking them into her nipple through the lace. “Giggling in the car, touching yourself like a little whore… You wanna know my favorite position?”

He grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her stomach like she weighed nothing, yanking her panties down her thighs.

“I’ll show you.”

Y/N gasped, back arching as his hand came down on her ass, hard and sharp, the smack echoing through the room.

She moaned into the sheets.

“You asked when’s the last time I had sex?” Johnny’s voice was a dark rasp as he leaned over her, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned. “Before I was assigned to you. But even then… it never felt like this.”

He shoved two fingers into her mouth from behind. “Suck.”

She moaned around them, desperate, shameless, her hips moving on their own.

He pulled his fingers free and slid them between her folds, groaning low at how wet she was.

“Fuck—you wanted this.”

She whined, nodding frantically, pressing back against his hand.

Johnny moved fast after that. Lining himself up. Dragging the thick head of his cock between her folds, slow just to tease her.

And then—one rough thrust—he buried himself so deep she saw stars.

Y/N screamed into the pillow, overwhelmed, body jerking under him. He didn’t stop. He slammed into her again, and again, one hand fisted in her hair, the other grabbing her wrists and holding them behind her back as he fucked her like he’d been holding back for a lifetime.

“You wanted to know my fantasies?” he growled against her ear. “They all end with you like this—spread out, dripping, begging me to ruin you.”

“Johnny—fuck—”

He let go of her wrists only to haul her up against his chest, hand closing around her jaw to turn her head toward him.

“Look at me.” His cock drove into her from behind, relentless, as he kissed her like he owned her—like she belonged to him. “You look so pretty when you cry for it.”

Y/N whimpered, legs shaking, so full she couldn’t take it. Her climax started to build—intense, dizzying.

“Tell me who’s making you feel like this.”

“You—fuck—it’s you—Johnny—”

“Damn right it is.” He slammed into her deeper. “Give it to me. Now.”

And she did. Screaming his name, convulsing around him as he fucked her through it, chasing his own high like a man possessed.

Y/N was trembling.

Every nerve in her body lit up, fried, fucked into total submission—yet somehow, that wasn’t enough for Johnny.

Because as soon as her high started to fade, he was flipping her onto her back again, pushing her thighs wide open with his hands, his eyes wild with hunger.

“Johnny—wait—” she panted, “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was dark and certain, and the way he stared at her soaked, wrecked cunt made her pulse throb all over again. “You’re gonna come for me again. On my tongue this time.”

She gasped when he lowered himself, spreading her folds open with his thumbs and diving in ruthlessly.

It was filthy—messy and desperate and loud. He moaned into her like she was his first meal in weeks, tongue swirling, lips sucking hard on her clit, fingers gripping her thighs so tightly she couldn’t even twitch.

“Johnny—oh my god—”

Her back arched violently as the wave slammed into her again—this time even stronger, unbearable, her body convulsing as she came, sobbing out his name.

She was still twitching when he crawled up her body, face wet with her arousal, eyes locked on hers.

He cupped her jaw, leaned in close, and whispered, “What do you say?”

Y/N blinked up at him, tears brimming, voice wrecked and ruined.

“...Thank you.”

His eyes fluttered shut for a second like that broke something in him.

He shoved his thumb between her lips—deep—watching her moan around it, sucking like she was starved for him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m never getting over this. I’m never getting over you.”

Her thighs were still shaking but her hands were already sliding over his stomach, up to his chest, touching the body she’d dreamed about ever since he showed up—tight, hard, carved from discipline and control, now finally hers.

“Johnny…” she whispered, eyes pleading as she pulled him in.

He took his thumb out and kissed her—hard, open-mouthed, tongues sliding together, moaning into each other like they needed this to survive. She felt his body over hers, the heat, the strength, the way he groaned when she dragged her nails down his back.

“You still want more?” he murmured, cock twitching between them, already hard again.

She nodded without hesitation. “Yes. As much as you’ll give me.”

And God help him, he’d give her everything.

He didn’t give her time to catch her breath.

One moment they were kissing like they’d never stop—the next, Johnny hauled her up into his arms, hands locked beneath her thighs as he carried her to the nearest wall and slammed her back against it.

Y/N gasped, head dropping as her body jolted from the impact—but she barely had time to adjust before he was lining himself up and thrusting deep into her.

“Oh—fuck—Johnny—!”

Her head fell back, eyes rolling up as her legs locked around him. He was massive—thick, hard, so deep she could feel him in her stomach, splitting her open in the best possible way.

“Yeah?” he grunted in her ear, grinding deeper. “You wanted this dick so bad, didn’t you? Been teasing me for days.”

She moaned helplessly, nails digging into his back. “Y-yes, yes—”

“I know you did,” he growled, lips against her neck now, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises. “You think I didn’t notice? The little looks? The questions in the car? You wanted me to snap.”

Y/N whimpered, overwhelmed. She bit down on his bicep, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes from how good it felt—how hard he was slamming into her, how perfectly he stretched her, filling every inch like he was made for her.

Johnny grinned through the pain. “That’s right, baby. Cry for it. Fuckin’ take it.”

And then he took it even further.

Without pulling out, he gripped her hips and lifted her off the wall like she weighed nothing—just raw strength, muscles flexing, bouncing her up and down on his cock.

Y/N screamed, arms around his neck, head buried in his shoulder as her orgasm slammed into her—immediate, overwhelming, her entire body going taut as she shattered around him.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so tight—gonna cum—” Johnny cursed, thrusts erratic now, holding her so close it felt like they were fused together—

He groaned loud into her neck, hips stuttering as he spilled into her, both of them trembling, sweating, wrecked.

He finally carried her back to the bed, collapsing with her still in his arms. They were quiet for a moment, catching their breath, his hand stroking her hair while hers traced his chest.

Then he leaned in, kissed her—deep, filthy, consuming.

And even after everything, she still moaned softly against his lips, already aching for more.

The bathroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the overhead light and the occasional flicker of lightning outside. Steam curled off the water, warm and soothing, as Y/N settled with her back pressed to Johnny’s chest in the tub, his long legs framing her body.

His arms rested along the edge, tense but unmoving, fingers barely twitching as their wet, linked hands rested on her thighs. She leaned back into him, sighing, water lapping gently around them. Her lips brushed his jawline, soft and slow.

“You’re tense again,” she murmured, kissing just under his ear.

“I wonder why,” he replied, voice low and gravelly, almost amused—but his body didn’t lie. His chest rose faster with each breath. He was trying to be good. Still trying to fight it.

Y/N turned in the water slowly, straddling him. Johnny’s jaw clenched the second she moved, but his arms didn’t stop her. She eased herself into his lap, hands finding his shoulders as she sank down onto him with a gasp—slow, so slow, the water rippling around them.

Johnny let out a strangled groan, head falling back against the tub, his arms still stretched out like he was hanging on to control by a thread.

Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and she kissed him—deeply, tenderly, cupping his face like she meant to memorize him.

His hands twitched.

Then finally, they rose.

They found her hips.

Gripped them.

And held her down.

“Stay right there,” he rasped, voice thick and broken, cock buried so deep inside her it felt endless. “Don’t bounce. Don’t move. Just stay.”

Y/N whimpered against his lips, body trembling from how full she felt, his cock twitching inside her, stretching her in the most perfect way. She tilted her hips slightly, grinding slowly in circles—and he cursed, head snapping forward as he grabbed her tighter, fingers digging into her skin.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, forehead falling to hers.

Y/N smiled, soft and sinful. “I do,” she whispered. “I’ve been dreaming about this since I saw you. That first day. In that hot uniform. You looked like a fucking fantasy.”

Johnny growled low in his throat, hands suddenly dragging her impossibly close, like he wanted to merge with her, like he couldn’t get deep enough.

They kissed again, messy, desperate.

And as Y/N rolled her hips once more, slow and needy, the water sloshing quietly around them, they both shuddered—reaching that last, slow, aching peak together.

She trembled as she came, lips open against his. Johnny groaned into her mouth, cock pulsing deep inside her, breath shuddering.

Neither of them spoke. They just held each other in the silence, water cooling around them, their bodies still joined, unwilling to let go.

------------------

The early morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden lines across the tangled sheets and bare skin. Y/N stirred first, buried in warmth, breath fogging lightly against the firm chest she was pressed against.

Johnny’s arm tightened around her instinctively, his other hand brushing down her spine, slow and absent, like he wasn’t quite ready to let the world back in.

She blinked up at him sleepily, eyes heavy but soft. He was already awake, looking at her like she was something he’d never get used to.

They didn’t speak at first—just exchanged sleepy smiles, lips brushing, deepening into slow, lazy kisses. Their bodies stayed wrapped together, tangled under the covers, Y/N’s fingers playing at the back of his neck as he kissed her like he couldn’t stop.

Eventually, Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “We have to get ready,” he murmured, reluctant.

“Already?”

He nodded, tracing her jaw with his thumb. “I’m leading the team that takes you home. We move in an hour.”

Y/N swallowed hard, heart sinking at the reality settling in. She nodded, brushing her nose against his. “Okay.”

The trip back went smoothly—until it didn’t.

They were moving through a checkpoint, just a few minutes from crossing into familiar territory when the convoy came to a sudden halt. Radios crackled. Voices turned urgent. Something wasn’t right.

“False alarm until confirmed,” someone barked. “Eyes sharp.”

In an instant, Johnny was moving.

He didn’t speak—just grabbed Y/N and pulled her into the nearest shelter, pressing her against the wall of the armored vehicle. His body blanketed hers, solid and tense. One strong hand cradled the back of her head, the other covering her mouth gently, urging silence.

His chest heaved against hers, heart pounding in sync. She could feel the gun holstered at his thigh, the tension in every muscle. Her fear bubbled in her throat, but she nodded, staying still beneath him, trusting him completely.

The all-clear came five minutes later.

False alarm.

The breath Johnny let out was shaky. He looked down at her, searching her face.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded again, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

He brushed his fingers down her cheek… and dropped the tiniest, softest kiss onto her lips. Not hungry. Not desperate. Just grounding.

Comfort.

“I got you,” he said, fingers curling around hers. “Almost there.”

When they reached her home country, the weight lifted slightly.

The convoy pulled up to the grand gates of her estate, the towering walls and polished brass crest a stark contrast to the past few weeks of tension and survival.

Johnny stepped out first, no longer in plain clothes. He was back in full uniform—clean, crisp, professional. The covert mission was over. His posture was rigid again, jaw set, aviators hiding his eyes as he scanned the perimeter.

“Package is secure,” one of the tactical team members called into his comms.

Y/N stood silently behind him, staring at the ornate doors of her childhood home. Familiar staff rushed forward, her usual security reassembled like nothing had ever happened. Like she hadn’t just survived weeks in hiding. Like her entire world hadn’t shifted.

The team began to disperse.

But Johnny didn’t move.

He lingered just a step behind, still watching her.

Once the last vehicle drove away, once it was only them standing in the silence of the driveway, Y/N turned.

And then she ran.

She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. He caught her immediately, hands splaying across her back, instinctual, like breathing. She cupped his face, tilting it toward her, and kissed him like she couldn’t bear to waste another second.

He didn’t hesitate. He kissed her back hard, one hand tangling in her hair, the other curling around her waist, pulling her against him like he couldn’t believe he had to let go.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, she whispered against his lips, “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

He kissed her again, softer now, his voice gravelly as he said, “You never have to thank me for that.”

She looked up at him, eyes swimming with something fragile and heavy. “What happens now?”

Johnny exhaled, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “My mission’s over. I’ll get re-assigned—new task, new team.”

Her heart clenched. She kissed him again, desperate, fingers fisting the collar of his uniform.

But this time, Johnny was the one who pulled back.

“I have to go,” he murmured, regret etched deep into every word.

Y/N’s voice cracked. “Do you… do you regret what we did?”

Johnny looked at her then. Really looked at her. His eyes, finally exposed, were unreadable at first—but they softened when they landed on her lips, her flushed cheeks, the way her hand was still clutching his chest like it hurt to let him go.

“I’ve got a lot of regrets,” he said quietly. “But last night? Wasn’t one of them.”

She blinked fast, holding back tears, lips trembling.

Neither moved.

Then Johnny leaned in again, brushing a final kiss to her forehead—tender, reverent, final.

And then he stepped away.

Back straight. Shoulders squared. The soldier again.

And Y/N just stood there in the doorway, heart pounding like gunfire, whispering after him even though he was already gone—

“Me neither.”

------------------

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#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #johnny x reader #johnny seo #johnny imagine #johnny suh #johnny fluff #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #johnny x y/n #johnny x you

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jikookncity · 4 days ago

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Soldier Johnny x Reader OUT NOW ON PATREON!

Click the link above for full access to the story, happy reading! First part will be released on here soon (:

sneak peak:

“You’re so tightly wound all the time. I bet you’ve forgotten how to loosen up.”

Nothing.

“What’s your favorite position?” she asked innocently.

Still no response.

“I’m just curious. It says a lot about a man.” She sucked on the lollipop with an exaggerated moan. “Bet you like it rough. But slow. Deep. Controlling.”

The muscle in Johnny’s jaw ticked again. His eyes narrowed on the road.

She was relentless. “You got a type? Or do you just go for whoever’s desperate enough?”

Another pause. Another sly look.

“Or do you fantasize?” she whispered, leaning closer, her voice soft and dangerous. “About me?”

That was it.

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #johnny x reader #johnny fluff #johnny seo #johnny imagine #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct smut #johnny x y/n #johnny x you #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut

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jikookncity · 5 days ago

Text

Spider-Mark x Reader (fluff/smut)

friends to lovers

full credit to owner of the pic! Warnings: sex, vague mentions of violence, bruises, quick mentions of blood and wounds

-------------

The college campus cafeteria was chaos as usual—shoulder-to-shoulder students, trays clattering, the scent of reheated food and sweat hanging thick in the air. Mark sat across from Y/N at their usual table near the windows, one leg bouncing under the table, eyes half-lidded as he stabbed at a slice of pizza.

Y/N was talking about something—he wasn’t really listening, not when her lips moved like that, not when the way she sipped her drink made his fingers twitch with restraint. She laughed at her own joke, and Mark caught the sound like a punch to the ribs, something he wanted to feel again and again.

Then it happened.

A soccer player—some sophomore with more energy than coordination—tripped over a backpack near their table. His tray launched into the air, food tumbling in slow motion toward Y/N.

Before anyone could react, Mark moved.

His hand shot out, hitting the tray in a clean, sharp slap. It veered sideways, the contents smearing across the wall rather than all over her hair and hoodie.

The whole table froze. Y/N stared at the wall, then slowly looked back at Mark.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “How did you do that?”

Mark blinked, swallowing hard. “Uh. Reflexes?”

She stared at him for a second longer, then gave a small laugh and smiled—really smiled—like he’d just flown her out of a burning building. “Thanks for saving me from instant death by cafeteria slop.”

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh. No problem.”

That’s when Haechan appeared, dropping into the seat beside Mark with a heavy sigh and a knowing glare.

“Dude,” he said.

Mark avoided eye contact.

“Dude,” Haechan repeated, voice dropping.

Mark leaned closer. “Don’t.”

“You punched a tray mid-air. Are you trying to get exposed?”

“She almost got hit in the face with lasagna. I wasn’t just gonna watch.”

“You could’ve knocked it into her. Played it off. Look clumsy, not like a ninja robot. You’re gonna get caught.”

Mark muttered under his breath, “You’re overthinking.”

Haechan gave him a look, then leaned in more. “I’m literally the only one who knows you’re Spider-Man. So maybe I should overthink it.”

Mark clenched his jaw and gave a tiny nod. “Fine. I’ll… trip or something tomorrow.”

“Good boy,” Haechan muttered, biting into a fry with satisfaction.

Y/N watched the interaction from her side of the table, curious. She’d noticed the way Mark moved—how fast, how precise—but more than that, the way he looked at her afterward, like he was genuinely afraid for her, like he would’ve caught the tray with his face if he had to.

And maybe she was imagining things, but… it looked like his hand was shaking a little.

“You okay?” she asked, soft and teasing.

Mark turned to her again. Their eyes met. The noise of the cafeteria faded into static.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “Just glad you’re not covered in marinara.”

Y/N laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks warming under his gaze. “Guess I owe you lunch next time.”

Mark shrugged, but his eyes flicked to her lips before he could stop them. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Haechan groaned and slid out of the seat with his tray. “Jesus Christ. Just date already.”

Mark pretended not to hear him, even as Y/N blushed and focused hard on her sandwich. Neither of them said anything, but something hung between them—heavy, slow-burning.

Neither of them knew the other was already half in love.

Neither of them knew how much longer they could pretend to be just friends.

---------------

The text came in while Mark was crouched on the edge of a rooftop in SoHo, panting through his mask, heart hammering in his chest after disarming a group of muggers. His phone buzzed inside his suit.

Y/N: hey, wanna hang? i just finished studying, i could use a break

Mark exhaled through his nose. God, of course she’d text now. She was probably curled up in her tiny dorm room two blocks from his, hoodie sleeves pushed over her hands, soft voice, softer eyes.

He wanted to go. He always wanted to go.

Instead, he wiped a smear of blood from his lip and sent back:

Mark: can’t tonight :( homework mountain

A lie. One he’d gotten good at telling.

10 minutes later

Y/N zipped up her jacket, stuffing her phone in her pocket as she exited the NYU library. The streets were mostly empty—just a few students and night-shift delivery workers riding past on electric bikes. She took her usual shortcut home, cutting through the back streets by the scaffolding-covered construction zone.

The alley echoed with quiet footsteps and the hum of machinery left idle overnight.

Then, above her—a blur.

Metal groaned.

She looked up, and her breath caught.

A red-and-blue figure shot across the sky, backlit by the moonlight, webbing trailing from his wrist as he swung from a crane with inhuman grace. Spider-Man.

She barely had time to process it when a crack rang out—followed by the screech of shifting metal.

A chunk of debris broke loose from the scaffolding overhead.

Y/N stumbled back, eyes widening as it plummeted toward her.

And then—

Arms wrapped around her. A chest against her back. She was airborne.

The world turned into wind and sky and the rush of adrenaline. She was clinging to Spider-Man’s suit—her fingers fisting red fabric, body pressed against his as he swung them out of the alley and onto the rooftop of a brownstone across the street.

He landed on one knee, holding her close, then straightened.

She didn’t open her eyes.

“…Hey,” he said, voice warm and careful. “You okay?”

She let out a breath, eyes still squeezed shut. “Yeah. Just—heights, not really my thing.”

He chuckled softly. “Fair. You’re good now. Debris didn’t touch you.”

Y/N slowly opened her eyes. She was still pressed against him, still gripping the suit like her life depended on it.

Now that she was looking at him—actually looking—he wasn’t just some vague blur across the sky. His mask was unmistakable, but under it, she could tell… he was young. Her age, maybe a little older. Lean. Broad-shouldered.

And flustered.

“Um…” She loosened her grip. “Can you maybe put me down now?”

“Right.” He stepped back, carefully lowering her to the rooftop, and then shot a web that brought them gently down to street level in a matter of seconds.

The walk to her building was quiet at first. They strolled side by side, the city lights washing the sidewalks in a warm yellow glow.

“You, uh… do this often?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Rescue girls from scaffolding death traps?” He grinned under the mask. “Only the pretty ones.”

She snorted. “Wow. Spidey’s got lines.”

“Not good ones,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. That was dumb.”

“No,” she laughed, brushing hair behind her ear. “It was kind of charming. You seem… around my age?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. College, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” She looked him up and down. “You single?”

He stumbled over his own feet.

“I—uh—I mean, I—” He cleared his throat, hands suddenly very busy adjusting the straps on his wrists. “I should probably get going.”

Y/N smiled, amused by his panic, her heart fluttering. “It was a joke.”

“I know. Totally. Yep. Funny joke.”

She stopped outside her building, tilting her head at him. “Thanks again. For saving me.”

His voice was softer now. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

They looked at each other for a long second.

Then he nodded and stepped back. “Goodnight.”

And with a fwip, he was gone—swinging into the sky, disappearing between the buildings like a ghost with a secret.

Y/N stood frozen on the steps for a moment, fingers curled around her keys, heart pounding in her chest.

---------------------

Y/N didn’t say a word to anyone.

Not about the scaffolding, the swing through the air, or the way Spider-Man’s chest had felt against hers. She kept it tucked close—like a secret pressed to her ribs, warm and intimate. A moment just for her.

She met Mark at their usual spot on campus, a tucked-away corner of an old brick café with velvet couches, low lights, and the smell of espresso soaked into every inch of the walls. They both had exams coming up, though the books between them remained mostly untouched.

Mark was already waiting on the couch, his laptop open in his lap, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He glanced up when she walked in.

“Hey,” he greeted with a small smile. “You look… happy today.”

Y/N sat down beside him, curling her legs underneath her. “Do I?”

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a little longer than usual. “Glowing, even.”

She laughed softly. “Well… I had an eventful walk home last night.”

Mark stiffened. “Eventful?”

She shrugged, nonchalant. “Nothing crazy. Just… one of those nights.”

She didn’t say more, and he didn’t press, but something flickered behind his eyes—like he was holding his breath.

They settled into studying, sort of. Pages turned. Highlighters squeaked. But they were sitting too close on the plush couch, knees brushing. At some point, they shifted to face each other. Y/N’s textbook sat ignored on the armrest while she tucked her legs up, her elbow brushing against his.

Their eyes kept meeting. Glances that lasted a beat too long. Fingers twitching as if tempted to touch. Every time Mark smiled, she felt it in her chest. Every time she leaned closer, he felt it in his spine.

He closed his laptop, clearly no longer pretending to study, and turned toward her fully.

“Y/N,” he said, voice lower than before.

She looked up, lips parting slightly. He was close—so close his breath warmed her cheek.

“I—” He hesitated, searching her face like he was reading a page he’d memorized a hundred times but still didn’t understand. “I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

BOOM.

A loud crash echoed in the distance—about two miles away, maybe closer. The kind of sound that made every bone tense.

Mark sighed, eyes closing for a moment. “So close.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, already standing up. “Just… I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

Y/N frowned as he hurried off, disappearing toward the back of the café. Her heart sank a little, the mood shattering into smoke.

Ten minutes passed.

When Mark returned, he looked… different.

His hair was tousled like he’d run through a wind tunnel. His chest rose and fell too fast. He looked pale under the café lights, one hand gripping the table a little too tightly before he sank back onto the couch beside her.

“You okay?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.

He nodded too fast. “Yep. Just… the bathroom’s way further than I thought.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

His voice cracked slightly.

Y/N gave a soft laugh, then—before thinking—reached up and combed her fingers through his messy hair, trying to smooth it back into place.

“You should rest,” she murmured, eyes focused on the strands between her fingers. “You look exhausted.”

Mark froze under her touch, eyes wide.

Realizing what she was doing, Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head quickly. “It’s okay. You can. I didn’t mind.”

Silence bloomed again, thicker this time. More dangerous.

But neither of them moved away.

And somewhere in the back of Y/N’s mind, a thought whispered louder than the rest:

The timing. The bruises. The way he looked at her like he already knew what she wasn’t saying.

Could it be?

No. It couldn’t.

Right?

------------------

Mark insisted on walking her home. He always did when it was late, and she never fought him on it—especially not now. The city was buzzing as usual, cars honking, sirens faint in the distance, but with him beside her, everything felt quieter. Safer.

They reached the cracked sidewalk in front of her building, the steps leading up uneven and worn.

Y/N misjudged the second stair—her foot caught the edge, ankle twisting just slightly, body lurching forward.

But she didn’t fall.

Mark’s hands were already on her, steadying her before she could even blink. One arm wrapped tight around her waist, the other bracing her shoulder, pulling her flush against his chest like she weighed nothing.

Her hands gripped his arms instinctively—hard biceps under soft fabric, the heat of him burning through the layers. One hand slid up, fingers curling into his shoulder for balance.

They stayed like that.

Close. Too close.

Y/N could feel his breath on her face, see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. His jaw was tense, lips parted just slightly like he was about to speak but couldn’t.

Neither of them moved.

For a second, it felt like gravity had shifted—like he was the center of it now, and she’d be stupid to let go.

Then Mark blinked, startled like he’d just remembered where they were. “S-sorry—are you okay?”

Y/N didn’t move back, not just yet. “No, don’t apologize. Thanks for… saving me. Again.”

Something flickered behind Mark’s eyes—uncertainty.

Again?

His hands slipped from her waist as he stepped back, just barely. “Again?”

She smiled lightly, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “Yeah. The cafeteria. You know, reflexes-of-steel moment?”

Relief passed over his face like a breeze. “Right. Yeah. That.”

“Honestly,” she teased, shooting him a glance as she climbed the last stair, “you’ve got great timing. You should consider a side gig in hero work.”

Mark let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that in mind.”

She turned toward her door, pausing with her hand on the knob.

Mark stayed on the sidewalk, looking up at her with that same unreadable softness he always had around her. The kind that made her knees a little weak if she looked at it too long.

“Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She lingered at the door a beat longer than necessary, then stepped inside.

Upstairs, in the quiet of her apartment, she dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto her bed with a soft groan. But her heart wasn’t tired.

It was racing.

Her mind flashed back to Spider-Man—his arms around her, the warmth of his chest, the way he held her so protectively as they flew across the city.

Then it flashed to Mark.

Same warmth. Same strength.

Same… everything.

Her brows furrowed.

She shook her head, rolling onto her back and covering her face with a groan. Stop. You're overthinking. No way.

But even as she tried to push it aside, the thought echoed louder now:

Holding Mark… felt exactly like holding Spider-Man.

And her heart wouldn't let her forget it.

-----------------

The air was crisp, city lights flickering below like a galaxy flipped upside down. Y/N leaned against the cool brick ledge of a rooftop she had no business being on—except for the fact that he always seemed to find her.

Spider-Man landed with a soft thud behind her, the wind from his swing rustling her jacket.

“You come up here often?” he teased gently, walking toward her.

She smiled, not turning to face him yet. “Only when I want to talk to someone who knows what it feels like to be… alone in a crowd.”

There was a pause. Then a softer, “You okay?”

She turned then, fully facing him now, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Spider-Man sat beside her on the ledge, one knee drawn up, looking out at the skyline. The silence between them was easy, familiar.

Y/N glanced at him sideways, heartbeat steady but deliberate.

“So,” she said casually, “what’s your favorite study spot on campus?”

He tilted his head. “Huh?”

“You go to college, right?”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Favorite spot then.”

There was a beat. “Uh… that café across from the student union. The one with the ugly green couch?”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Interesting.”

“What?”

She shook her head, biting her smile. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone I know.”

Mark’s heart stuttered in his chest, but he kept his posture still, trying to play it off. “Hopefully in a good way?”

“The best way,” she murmured, then looked down at her hands.

There was a pause, heavy and quiet. Then—

“Can I ask you something?”

He turned his masked face toward her. “Of course.”

“I…” she started, then huffed out a nervous laugh. “Okay, this is stupid, but—I have a huge crush on my friend.”

Mark blinked behind the mask.

“Oh,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s… not stupid.”

“He’s… amazing. Kind. Sweet. Stupidly brave. He’s the best guy I know, and I’m terrified of screwing it up if I tell him.”

Mark’s stomach twisted.

He swallowed. “Well… I think whoever he is, he’d be lucky. You’re… incredible.”

She looked up at him then, and in the way her eyes shimmered in the city light, something unspoken passed between them. Her voice softened.

“Do you ever get lonely? Being Spider-Man?”

Mark stilled.

No one had ever asked that. Not like that. Not with a voice so gentle, so human. He wasn’t sure what to say at first.

“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “But it’s worth it. If I can keep people safe—even just one person—it’s worth it.”

Y/N stepped closer, so close he could feel the warmth of her body through the suit. She reached up, hands hesitating near his jaw, then slowly cupped his masked face, thumbs brushing gently over the fabric.

He almost leaned into her touch without thinking.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

He nodded once, unable to speak. His throat felt tight.

For a second, he wondered—Could she know?

But then she dropped her hands, took a small step back, and offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I should go.”

He cleared his throat, finding his voice. “Yeah. Me too.”

She hesitated one last second. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“I’ll always be around,” he said softly.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he was gone—swinging off into the night sky.

Y/N stood alone on the rooftop, heart pounding.

The way he touched her waist.

The café comment.

The voice—kind and uncertain.

It’s him. It has to be.

But if she was wrong…

She bit her lip, heart torn in two directions—toward the man she might already love, and the mask hiding his face.

------------

The city hummed in the distance, golden lights stretching across the skyline like a heartbeat. Cars whispered across the bridge below them, and the East River reflected the stars above like ink kissed with silver.

Mark and Y/N stood at the edge of the pedestrian walkway, the iron rail pressed to their thighs, wind tugging at their jackets. He’d planned the night carefully: late dinner, a walk through DUMBO, and now this—his favorite hidden spot just off the main path where hardly anyone came after dark.

They stood close. Shoulders touching. Neither said anything for a long moment.

Mark glanced down, chewing the inside of his cheek. Now or never.

He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against hers.

Y/N stiffened—then relaxed.

He hesitated again, heart racing so loud he was sure she could hear it, then slowly slid his fingers between hers, gently lacing them together.

Y/N let out the tiniest breath and looked away, biting back a smile.

They both blushed like they were sixteen.

Mark stared out at the water, jaw tense, battling something behind his eyes.

Y/N tilted her head, watching him carefully. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

His thumb rubbed over her knuckle once, then stopped. He sighed.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, voice low, and turned to her fully.

She blinked, startled by the intensity in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice rough, honest, shaking just a little.

Y/N gasped—not from surprise but from the thrill of hearing him say it. Then slowly, as if pulled by a string, she nodded and began to lean in.

Mark met her halfway.

Their lips brushed once, a feather-light graze that sent both of them shivering. Then again—firmer this time, mouths fitting together like they’d done it a thousand times in dreams.

And then—more.

Y/N’s hands curled around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair, tugging just enough to make him groan quietly against her lips. Mark’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her to him like he couldn’t bear to let go.

They kissed slowly, learning each other in that breathless, tentative way—like a secret passed between lips, tasting, tugging, pausing just enough to draw out the tension before diving in again.

The river, the cars, the whole city disappeared.

There was only her.

Only him.

Only this.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the night air. Y/N’s lips were kiss-swollen, eyes glazed. Mark looked completely dazed, like she’d knocked the sense right out of him.

“…Wow,” he breathed.

Y/N giggled, still catching her breath. “Yeah… wow.”

They stayed like that a moment longer, smiling, arms still wrapped around each other.

And even though neither of them said it out loud yet, in that moment, it was painfully, blindingly obvious:

They were already gone for each other.

-------------------

Mark burst into the dorm, practically glowing. He didn’t bother turning on the lights—just stumbled in, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed backward onto his bed with a deep, content sigh.

Haechan sat up from his own bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and squinting at him. “Did you get hit by a truck or are you just radiating happiness right now?”

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands covering his face. “I kissed her.”

“What?”

“I kissed her,” Mark said louder, peeling his hands away and grinning at the ceiling. “And she kissed me back.”

Haechan blinked, slowly sitting up straighter. “No way. No way. You actually did it? You finally stopped pining like a Victorian widow and did something about it?”

Mark nodded like a drunk man in love. “On the Brooklyn Bridge. We held hands. Talked. Then I asked. And she said yes. And we just… kissed. Like—really kissed.”

Haechan snorted, flopping back into his pillow. “God, you’re disgusting.”

Mark laughed again, rolling onto his side, still smiling like a fool. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can. Took you long enough.”

Mark grabbed a pillow and lightly chucked it across the room. It hit Haechan in the face.

“But,” Haechan continued, serious now, “you’ve gotta be careful.”

Mark’s smile faded slightly. “Why?”

“She’s smart, dude. Like… smart. And she notices things. I’ve seen her face when something doesn’t add up.”

Mark stayed quiet.

“I’m just saying,” Haechan added, sitting up again, voice softer now. “You’ve been lucky. But if she finds out without you telling her? That’ll hurt more than a villain with a rocket launcher.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, his buzz still lingering—but weighed down now with reality. “I’ve been thinking about telling her.”

Haechan raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to lie to her,” Mark said quietly. “Not anymore. I want her to know the real me. I want to tell her everything.”

Haechan exhaled slowly. “Then you have to be ready for what that means. Because once you do, it’s not just your secret anymore—it’s hers. And she has to carry it too. Every time you don’t text back right away, every time the news says Spider-Man got hurt… she’ll know. And it won’t be easy for her.”

Mark stared at the ceiling again, chest tightening.

He knew Haechan was right.

Telling her would be like giving her the key to a room that could only hold fear, uncertainty, and danger. But not telling her… when things were finally becoming real between them… that didn’t sit right either.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, voice small.

Haechan tossed the pillow back to his bed. “Well… when you do know, I think she’ll listen. She’s already in deep with you, man. I can tell. Just don’t screw it up.”

Mark lay there in silence, thinking of her smile, the way her fingers tugged his hair, the softness of her lips, and how she’d held him like she knew him—like she already suspected something.

He didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because he was afraid of being Spider-Man.

But because for the first time… he was afraid of what it might cost him.

----------------

The study date was meant to be just that—notes, coffee, some quiet time in the library. But somewhere between teasing touches and the way Mark looked at her over the top of his textbook, everything shifted. And now here they were—laughing in whispers as they reached her front door, the sky outside dipped in navy and starlight.

Y/N hesitated with the key in the lock, biting her lip before glancing over at him.

“Do you… wanna come in? Just for a bit?”

Mark’s breath caught. He nodded.

She smiled and opened the door.

Inside, things moved slowly at first. They dropped their bags by the couch, kicked off their shoes. They sat on the edge of her bed, close, too aware of how quiet the room was. How private.

Y/N turned toward him, fingers brushing his knee. “You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”

Mark shook his head. “I want to.”

Her eyes searched his. A pause.

Then she leaned in.

And when their lips met again, it was hotter than before. Less hesitant.

She pushed gently on his shoulder, and he let himself be lowered with her, their bodies sliding onto the bed. Mark braced himself above her, kissing her slow and deep, his hand cradling the back of her neck. Her fingers tugged at the hem of his hoodie, sliding beneath it, palms gliding over the firm skin of his back.

“Can I—?” she asked softly, fingers curling around the hoodie.

Mark nodded, chest rising and falling hard, letting her pull it off. Her hands spread over his chest, fingertips skating over the warmth of his skin.

But then—

The tingle.

It shot through his spine like electricity.

His senses lit up all at once.

Something was happening.

Mark’s whole body froze.

Y/N blinked up at him. “Mark?”

He sat up too fast, chest heaving, eyes darting to the window.

“Shit,” he whispered, dragging a hand through his hair. He started pulling the hoodie back on with shaky hands.

“Wait—what’s wrong?” Y/N sat up, voice small. “Did I—did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, God, no,” he said quickly, reaching out and cupping her face. His forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I forgot I was supposed to do something. Something important.”

Her brows drew together, eyes scanning his like she was trying to read between the lines. She saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his body wanted to stay even while his mind was already gone.

“…You don’t want to go,” she said quietly.

Mark pulled back, blinking fast, his throat tight. “No. I really don’t.”

Y/N leaned forward, brushing her lips to his in a soft kiss, hands on his shoulders. “Then go do what you need to do,” she whispered. “It’s okay. I get it.”

He stared at her for a beat too long, eyes filled with something aching and unspoken. Then he kissed her again—firmer, deeper—like a thank you and an apology wrapped into one.

“Thank you,” he said softly, forehead pressed to hers.

Then he was gone—out the door, down the stairs, and disappearing into the night.

Y/N sat on the bed alone, heart still racing, fingertips still tingling from where they’d touched his skin.

She didn’t know what he was running off to do.

But she knew one thing for sure now:

Whatever it was, it mattered.

And maybe… it had everything to do with why Mark always seemed to disappear right when Spider-Man showed up.

---------------

There was a knock at the door. Not loud. Just one soft set of three taps.

Y/N, still in her pajamas, blinked at the clock. Almost midnight.

She opened the door cautiously—then gasped.

“Mark.”

He stood there, hoodie torn, blood drying at the edge of his lip, dirt streaking his jaw. His eyes were dazed, like he’d walked miles to get there. His knuckles were scraped raw. And under the dim hallway light, she could already see the bruising through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Without a word, she reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him inside.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to stay calm, but her voice was shaking. “Mark—sit, please—God, sit down.”

He slumped onto the couch like his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Take off your hoodie,” she said gently, but firmly. “Now.”

He hesitated—then obeyed.

The hoodie fell to the floor.

“Shirt too.”

Another pause, another heavy breath—and then the shirt came off.

Y/N’s eyes welled with tears.

Bruises bloomed across his chest and ribs—deep purple, angry reds. Small cuts along his stomach. One shoulder scraped and bloodied like it had met asphalt hard.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, moving instinctively. She rummaged through her drawer and came back with her first-aid kit, snapping it open on the coffee table. “This is gonna sting.”

Mark winced as she dabbed antiseptic onto his side.

“I told you—ow,” he hissed. “That hurts.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop getting thrown off buildings,” she muttered, wiping a streak of blood from his arm. “Hold still.”

Mark didn’t complain again.

He just watched her.

Watched the way she bit her lip in concentration, how her fingers trembled at first but steadied with care. How she gently taped gauze to his ribs and held her breath when he flinched. How tears clung to her lashes but never fell.

Then, quietly—almost too quietly—

“You know, don’t you?”

Y/N stilled.

------------

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jikookncity · 5 days ago

Text

Bodyguard Johnny x Reader Teaser

Before she could react, a warm, wet, solid arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her hands behind her back. She yelped as her body slammed—gently, but firmly—against the side of the car.

The rain soaked her through instantly.

“Johnny—”

He pressed in close, his chest flush to her back, his breath hot at her ear despite the cold rain.

“When I tell you to do something,” he growled, low and guttural, “you do that shit.”

——————————

Johnny let out a strangled groan, head falling back against the tub, his arms still stretched out like he was hanging on to control by a thread.

Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, and she kissed him—deeply, tenderly, cupping his face like she meant to memorize him.

His hands twitched.

Then finally, they rose.

They found her hips.

Gripped them.

And held her down.

————————

Coming soon…

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #johnny x reader #johnny x you #nct johnny #johnny nct #johnny seo smut #johnny fluff #johnny seo #johnny imagine #johnny suh #johnny suh smut #johnny x y/n #nct smut

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jikookncity · 5 days ago

Text

I will be writing an extremely dirty mind numbingly disgusting lewd fic based on this outfit thank you

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #johnny x reader #johnny suh smut #johnny x you #nct johnny #johnny nct #johnny seo smut #johnny fluff #johnny imagine #johnny seo

108 notes · View notes

jikookncity · 7 days ago

Text

Just updated! Happy Reading

NCT Masterlist

Hi everyone, this is the masterlist for all my NCT Stories

For early access to my stories and bonus continuations of certain stories, subscribe to my patreon here or you can just buy the post or collection you want. I'm an international masters student so anything helps! If you'd like to give a lil tip, you can do that here!

🍓 - smut

🍡 - fluff

🫐 - angst

NCT

Johnny Suh

ExBoyfriendFarmer!Johnny x Model!Reader 🍓🍓🍓🍡

Johnny x Reader - Forgotten Memories (smut) 🍓🍓🍡🫐

Enemies with Benefits 🍓🍓

Jaehyun x Reader x Johnny 🍓🍓

Boxer Johnny x Princess Reader 🍓🍡

Nakamoto Yuta

Street Racer Yuta x Street Racer Reader 🍓🍓

Rockstar!yuta x Princess!reader (re-written) 🍓🍓🍡🫐

Bad Boy Yuta x Good Girl Reader 🍓🍓🍡

Jeong Jaehyun

Brothers Best Friend Jaehyun x Reader 🍓🍓

Bodyguard Jaehyun x Princess Reader 🍡🫐 🍓🍓

Soldier!Jaehyun x Reader 🍡🫐

Jaehyun x Reader - Trust 🫐🍡

Jaehyun x Reader x Johnny 🍓🍓

Fratboy Jaehyun x Reader 🍓🍓

Nerdy Jaehyun x Reader 🍓🍓🍡

Drabbles:

bratty reader

military phone call

Wedding Reunion

Mark Lee

Rapper!Mark x ChildhoodFriend!Reader 🍓🫐

Hockey player Mark x Tutor Reader 🍡🍓

Mark x Reader - Crybaby 🍓🍓

Best Friend Mark x Reader 🫐🍡

Lee Jeno

Mechanic!Jeno x Rich!Reader 🍓🍓🍡

Bodyguard Jeno x Reader 🍓🍓🍡

College Student Jeno x Reader 🍡 but 🍓 in prt 2

Best Friends Brother X Reader 🍓🍡

F1 Racer Jeno x Reader 🍓🍡🫐

Lee Haechan

Ex Boyfriend Haechan x Reader 🍓🍓

Hockey Player Haechan x Figure Skater Reader 🍡🍓

Academic Rivals Haechan x Reader 🍓🍓🍡

College!Haechan x Reader 🍡🍡

Nerdy!Haechan x Reader Part 2 Sneak Peek 🍓🍓

Haechan x Reader - Bridgerton Story 🍓🍓🍡

Worst Date Ever 🍓🍡

Pirate Haechan x Siren Reader 🍓🫐 🍡

Na Jaemin

Fratboy!Jaemin x Reader 🍡🍡 (part 2 has 🍓)

Ex boyfriend x Reader 🍓🍓

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #johnny x reader #jaehyun x reader #haechan x reader #mark x reader #donghyuck x reader #yuta x reader #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #nct smut #haechan smut #mark smut #mark lee #jaehyun smut #johnny smut #yuta smut

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jikookncity · 7 days ago

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F1 Racer Jeno x Reader (Smut)

WC: 3.8k, car sex, dirty talk, emotional cheating (not between yn and jeno), Jeno and Jaemin are rivals, Y/n is Jaemin's little sister

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The air was still thick with burnt rubber and champagne, the victory ceremony just wrapping up. Jeno Lee’s suit clung to his frame, damp with sweat and glory as he swaggered through the paddock. Another win. Another trophy. Another bitter look from him—his long-time rival.

But Jeno wasn’t thinking about the guy he’d just beaten. He was thinking about the guy’s little sister. Na Jaemin's little sister to be exact.

Y/N stood near the team trailers, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her nose, and an expression that made it clear she’d rather be anywhere else than watching Jeno bask in the glow of victory.

But god, did she look good when she was pissed off.

He smirked as he made his way toward his car, only to find her standing in the parking lot, evidently waiting for her brother. Alone.

Perfect.

She noticed him immediately, and her posture straightened, jaw clenched like she was ready for a fight.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden boy,” she said, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “Enjoy your win?”

Jeno stopped beside her, wiping his brow with a towel. “Immensely. Especially knowing he had to watch me take that podium.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“Hmm,” Jeno took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You know, it’s funny. For someone who ‘hates’ me so much, you sure stare a lot.”

She scoffed. “Staring at a car crash doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

Jeno chuckled, eyes blatantly dragging down her figure. “Maybe. Or maybe you just like the danger.”

She felt her breath hitch but refused to show it. “You’re full of yourself.”

“I am,” he said easily, stepping in closer until she could smell the mix of gasoline and sweat on him. “But I’m also right.”

“Right about what?”

His eyes met hers directly, hungry and gleaming. “About you. There’s something underneath all that attitude, sweetheart. Something that wants me.”

She laughed—short and sharp. “You wish.”

“I don’t need to wish.” Jeno tilted his head. “Tell me, you got a boyfriend?”

She smirked. “I do.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice dropped, practically growling now. “He must not be doing a great job. You look… frustrated.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Jeno leaned in, lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. “If you ever want to know what it’s like to be fucked by a realman—someone who doesn’t beg for second place—you know where to find me.”

She jerked back like he’d slapped her, eyes wide and skin hot. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re blushing,” he countered smoothly, a shit-eating grin on his face as he stepped away, throwing the towel over his shoulder like this was any other casual conversation.

Before she could say another word, her brother’s voice echoed from across the lot.

“Y/N, let’s go!”

She turned on her heel without looking back, heels clicking furiously against the pavement, but her pulse was still racing and her thighs pressed a little too tightly together.

She hated him. She hated him. But her body didn’t seem to get the memo.

---------------

The roar of the crowd still rang in Jeno’s ears, but this time it wasn’t for him.

Jaemin had won.

That bastard grinned like it was Christmas, champagne dripping from his curls, arm slung lazily around his girlfriend as cameras flashed. Jeno kept his helmet on longer than usual just to avoid the interviews. He could stomach a loss—but not to him.

Not when she was watching.

Later that night, the post-race VIP party was in full swing. Bass thumped through the sleek walls of the club, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and overpriced liquor. Jeno nursed a drink in a corner booth, jaw tense, surrounded by people he didn’t care to talk to.

And then he saw her.

Y/N.

Mini skirt. Tight crop top. Hair down in waves he wanted to bury his hands in. Lips glossed, eyes sharp. She spotted him across the floor—and smiled like the devil.

She walked up slowly, hips swaying, confidence bleeding from every step. She leaned down on the edge of his table, arms crossed beneath her chest, voice syrup-sweet and mocking.

“Aww. Rough night?”

He looked up at her lazily, trying not to stare—but he was already losing that battle. “Didn’t realize pity was your thing.”

She smiled wider. “Not pity. I just enjoy seeing you lose.”

His eyes dragged down her bare thighs before flicking back up. “You always dress like this for your brother’s win parties?”

She laughed, straightening up. “Why? Is it distracting you?”

“Very.” He stood slowly, towering over her, drink abandoned. “You think it’s funny, don’t you? Getting me all worked up.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” she said, turning as if to walk away—but he followed, catching her near a quieter back hallway of the club, cornering her between the wall and his body.

“Jeno,” she hissed, chest heaving, heart pounding.

He was so close she could smell the scotch on his breath and the heat coming off his skin.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He leaned in slowly, voice low and silk-smooth against her ear. “You know what’d make me feel better, sweetheart?”

She shivered. “Don’t.”

He smirked, letting his hand brush the hem of her skirt. “You. Bouncing on me with this little thing riding up your hips. Bet you’d love the stretch.”

She gasped, eyes wide, pulse racing. “You’re disgusting.”

“Mhm.” He stepped back like nothing had happened, casual as ever. “And you’re soaked.”

Her mouth parted in disbelief, but her cheeks were burning, her lips bitten red, and her thighs clenched just like he knew they would be.

She shoved his chest, hard, and stormed off.

But he didn’t miss the way her legs wobbled slightly in her heels… or the way she kept glancing back.

Later that night, still buzzed and lazy in his suite, Jeno grinned as he typed a message to a mutual friend. "Hey. Y/N's number. Don’t ask."

And the second he had it, he didn’t hesitate.

Unknown Number: Heard you have a boyfriend. Text me when you’re ready to stop faking it. I’ll remind you what you really need.

It started innocently enough. One TikTok. A short edit of Jeno shirtless in the pit lane, helmet tucked under his arm, sweat glistening on his skin, jaw clenched and veins popping in his arms as he stalked toward the camera.

Y/N’s thumb hovered.

Like.

Then another one—Jeno training in the gym, hoodie tugged halfway off, muscles straining, sweat soaking through his shirt. Then a slo-mo clip of him tugging off his gloves after a win, face stoic, jaw ticking, eyes hard and focused.

The algorithm knew too much. And Y/N was spiraling.

She groaned, throwing her phone face-down on her bed, clenching her thighs out of pure frustration. She hated him. She wanted him.

And her boyfriend? The sweet, boring guy who texted her half-hearted compliments and never made her feel anything close to what one look from Jeno did?

He wasn’t it. Not anymore.

The guilt came second. The clarity came first.

—

Later That Night — Downtown Bar

He showed up late. Her boyfriend—well, ex now, hopefully—stormed into the bar already irritated.

“You’ve been ignoring me for days.”

Y/N stood up from their booth, arms crossed. “I wanted to talk to you—”

“No shit,” he snapped, stepping too close, voice sharp. “You don’t even look at me anymore. What, you think I haven’t noticed? You’re not even pretending to care.”

Her stomach twisted. He was loud. Aggressive. People were starting to turn their heads. “Can we talk about this outside—”

“Who is it?” he hissed. “Who are you f—”

“Back off.”

The voice came from behind.

Jeno.

Cool, calm, and terrifying.

He stepped into the conversation like he owned the room, placing a firm hand on the guy’s shoulder and pushing just enough to make him stumble back.

“She said back off,” Jeno repeated, eyes like steel, jaw flexing as he squared up to him.

“Who the hell are—”

“Her exit plan,” Jeno said flatly. “You want to make this messy, or you want to walk away while your face is still intact?”

Y/N’s ex froze, clearly weighing his options—and deciding he didn’t want to test a professional driver with arms like that. He huffed, shoved past Jeno, and stormed out of the bar.

Silence lingered until Y/N exhaled shakily.

Jeno didn’t say anything—just looked at her, eyes a little softer now, but still burning.

“You okay?” he asked.

Before she could answer, another voice cut in.

“Y/N?”

Jaemin.

His brows were furrowed as he came over, eyeing the situation cautiously. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said quickly, smoothing down her dress. “It’s okay now.”

Jaemin’s eyes flicked to Jeno, clearly torn between gratitude and suspicion. After a long pause, he nodded once, then turned back to Y/N.

“Let’s go,” he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder one last time. Jeno was still standing there, gaze locked on her.

And maybe it was the adrenaline. Or the lingering heat from their last encounter. Or the memory of those TikToks.

But her heart pounded in her chest as she whispered—

“Thank you.”

Jeno gave her a nod, lips twitching into the smallest smirk.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

The next race weekend came fast. Too fast.

Y/N found herself pacing behind the pits, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding her eyes even though it was overcast. She wasn’t here for Jeno—not officially—but her eyes kept drifting to the other side of the paddock. To him.

She caught him alone near the garage, helmet in one hand, hair tousled, suit rolled halfway down his torso. He looked unfairly good. Like sin in red and black.

And when he noticed her watching, his smirk was instant.

She sighed, stepping toward him.

“You know this is stupid,” she said, arms crossed tight. “Nothing’s changed. I can’t be with you. You’re… Jaemin’s rival.”

Jeno raised a brow, amused. “Right. Because your brother would be so reasonable about it.”

“I’m serious, Jeno.”

He stepped closer, smirk fading into something softer. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’d change what I did.”

She hesitated, then stepped in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He turned his head slightly—just enough that their lips brushed. Barely. But enough to make both of them freeze.

And then—

“JENO! GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

His manager’s voice shattered the moment, and Jeno groaned under his breath, giving her one last look before jogging toward the car.

Y/N stood frozen, her fingers pressed to her lips, pulse racing for an entirely different reason now.

But by lap 17, that pulse turned into full-blown panic.

The screen showed Jeno's car spinning out. One wrong angle, tires locking up, and his car hit the barrier with a brutal screech. The entire crowd gasped as it crunched against the wall.

“Jeno Lee’s had a collision!” the commentator shouted. “That’s a hard hit!”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Medical crews were rushing over. Her stomach twisted. Her legs felt heavy. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped breathing until she heard—

“He’s okay. He’s climbing out.”

The camera zoomed in, and there he was—pulling off his helmet, visibly pissed, but alive. Unhurt. Breathing.

Only then did her knees weaken.

—

Later, back in her hotel room, she stared at her phone for way too long before typing:

You okay?

The reply came fast. Too fast, like he was waiting for it.

You worried about me, sweetheart?

She rolled her eyes, but the smile bloomed anyway, uninvited and warm.

Of course not. Just didn’t want your team to lose their best driver.

Mhm. You gonna kiss me again if I crash next week too?

She groaned, flopping onto the bed.

Go to sleep, idiot.

Sweet dreams, princess. Try not to think about me shirtless again.

She screamed into her pillow.

God help her. She was falling.

---------------

The media event was supposed to be civil.

But nothing ever was when it came to Jeno and Jaemin.

The moment the reporters asked about the next race, Jeno leaned into the mic, that smug grin playing on his lips.

“Let’s just say... some drivers are better at winning popularity contests than actual races.”

The crowd snickered. Y/N’s blood boiled.

Her jaw clenched as she locked eyes with him across the room, but he didn’t even flinch—just winked like it was a private joke.

By the time the next race ended and Jaemin took first place again, the tension was unbearable. Jeno stormed off toward the parking lot, soaked in sweat, still wearing his black tank top and race pants.

And that’s where he found her.

Y/N.

Standing alone beside her car, arms crossed, fuming.

“Got something to say?” Jeno asked, already annoyed, hair wet and messy from the shower.

“You’re a dick,” she snapped. “He’s your rival, not your enemy. You don’t get to insult my brother in front of cameras just because you’re bitter.”

Jeno’s jaw clenched. “I’m bitter because I should’ve won. Not because of him.”

“Doesn’t justify dragging him,” she spat. “Grow the fuck up.”

Rain started to fall—light at first, then heavier. But neither moved. Neither backed down.

“Funny,” Jeno muttered, eyes narrowing as they raked down her body. “You sure defend him hard, considering you’re always pressed up against me every other race.”

Y/N scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But her white tank top was already clinging to her chest, soaked, translucent—her nipples peaked, chest heaving. Her tiny skirt was plastered to her thighs. And when her eyes flicked down, she realized he was soaked too—arms flexed, abs defined under the sheer fabric, veins popping.

She turned on her heel to walk away.

Bad move.

Jeno’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back—hard.

She gasped as her body slammed against his, back to his front, his breath hot against her neck despite the chill in the air.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growled.

Her heart thudded.

His hands slid down, gripping her hips hard, possessive, pinning her in place. Her breath hitched, hands reaching to steady herself on his thighs.

“Jeno—”

“Look at me.”

She turned, barely, eyes locking with his. Her lips parted, eyes wide, lip trembling slightly as if she hated how much she wanted him.

But her eyes flickered to his mouth. Then again. And again.

Jeno smirked, fingers sliding slowly up her sides, over her ribs, until they cupped her breasts—full, soaked, and soft under his calloused palms.

She gasped, the moan ripped from her throat when he squeezed, thumbs brushing her hardened nipples through the soaked fabric.

“Fuck—” she whimpered, head falling back onto his shoulder, hips rocking back against him on instinct.

“You feel what you do to me?” he whispered into her ear, grinding his hard length against her soaked ass. “You think I don’t see the way you stare?”

Her knees buckled when he pinched and rolled her nipples, another moan leaving her lips.

“I hate you,” she breathed.

He chuckled low. “No, sweetheart. You want me.”

And then—it snapped.

She turned, fists clutching his tank top, lips crashing into his with desperation and fury. Rain soaked their faces as his hands tangled in her wet hair, his mouth claiming hers like it was a race he refused to lose.

Tongues tangled. Teeth clashed. His hand snuck back under her shirt to feel bare skin, and her moans only grew louder.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was raw and messy and wrong.

And it was only the beginning.

The rain blurred the world into streaks of neon and silver, but Jeno didn’t care. His lips were on hers, hands under her ass as he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her across the lot toward his blood-red Ferrari parked under a dim, flickering streetlight.

Y/N gasped against his mouth when her back hit the leather seat, her soaked clothes sticking to the material, rain still pouring in through the open door. Her chest heaved, tank top transparent, skirt riding up—she was a mess. A beautiful, soaking mess.

“You sure about this?” he rasped, chest rising and falling, his chain hanging wet and heavy around his neck.

“Jeno,” she breathed, tugging him down by his soaked shirt. “I’ve never been more sure.”

That was all he needed.

He climbed in, slamming the door shut behind them. The cabin filled with fog and the sound of rain pelting the roof. He grabbed her face, kissing her deep and filthy, biting her bottom lip and swallowing her moans.

Then—slap.

His chain swung forward, slick and cool, catching her cheek as he pulled back to strip his shirt off. Her gasp was sharp, her thighs clenching.

“Didn’t expect you to like that,” he murmured, leaning back in, smirking as her wide eyes locked on his bare chest, his biceps flexing as he caged her in.

“I didn’t,” she whispered, voice trembling. “But I do.”

He tugged her soaked top off and tossed it somewhere in the front seat, palming her tits again, this time with nothing between them.

“God, look at you,” he muttered, dipping his head to suck on one nipple, then the other, taking his time with slow, torturous swirls of his tongue while she writhed beneath him, her fingers digging into his arms.

She was soaked, and not just from the rain.

He pushed her skirt up to her waist, yanked her panties down, and groaned at the sight of her.

“You’re dripping,” he growled. “You wanted this. You’ve always wanted this.”

She nodded furiously, hips lifting toward him. “Jeno—please—”

He kissed her again, slower this time, gripping one of her hands and intertwining their fingers while the other guided his thick, hard length to her entrance.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open just as he slid in—deep.

Y/N choked on a moan, clinging to him with her free hand, nails digging into the firm swell of his bicep.

“F-Fuck—you're so big—”

“I know, baby,” he whispered against her lips, thrusting in again, watching her fall apart beneath him. “Take it. Take all of me.”

He set a pace that was steady and deep, grinding into her with every push, hips slapping against her ass, rainwater pooling around them in the seat as they moved.

“Feel me, sweetheart?” he hissed. “Every inch of me inside you.”

Her moans echoed inside the tight car, hands sliding over his shoulders, desperate for more, needing everything.

Then he slammed in harder—once, twice, three times—until her head fell back and she cried out his name, legs trembling, body soaking wet and clenching around him.

“You’re mine now,” he groaned, losing himself in her, one hand still locked with hers as he pounded into her, other hand cupping her face, thumb brushing her lips.

“Say it,” he whispered, almost broken. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” she moaned, hips arching to meet him, overwhelmed and aching and full. “Jeno—I’m yours.”

That did it.

With a low, guttural groan, he buried himself deep one final time, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, still kissing her like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth.

Rain still poured.

Windows fogged.

And for one breathless moment, everything outside the Ferrari didn’t exist.

Just her. Just him.

Just the crash they’d both been racing toward.

The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle now, tapping gently against the windows of the Ferrari. Inside, the air was fogged, sticky with heat and sweat and the ghost of moans still echoing in the cabin.

Jeno had pulled her close, bodies tangled under his jacket. He’d turned the car on a few minutes ago, letting the seat warmers hum beneath them, chasing away the chill from the rain-soaked chaos they’d just created.

Y/N lay with her head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hand rubbed up and down her bare back in slow, comforting strokes. For a moment, everything was still.

Until she quietly broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jeno hummed, lips brushing her damp temple. “Yeah?”

“How did the rivalry with Jaemin even start?” she asked, voice soft, hesitant. “You’ve never really said.”

He went quiet for a beat, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek.

“It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious,” he finally said. “We came into the league at the same time. Both the youngest, both fast as hell, both came from the same junior academy. The media loved it. ‘Two prodigies,’ they called us. ‘The future of F1.’”

She didn’t speak, just listened.

“It was always a comparison. One of us had to be better. One of us had to be the star. I leaned into it. So did he, I think. Fans picked sides. Teams hyped it up. It got ugly fast.” He paused. “But it’s not personal. Not really.”

Y/N shifted slightly, lifting her head to look at him. “So you don’t hate him.”

Jeno met her eyes, expression unreadable. “No. I don’t.”

She exhaled, then leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips—slow and careful this time, nothing like before. When she pulled back, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want to feel guilty for being with you.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want to lie to my brother. I want to be with you,” she continued. “But not like this. Not if it’s going to make everything worse.”

“Y/N…” he started, but she was already shaking her head.

“I want you two to make up,” she said. “Talk. Clear the air. Fix it.”

Jeno frowned, glancing away. “It’s not that easy. That rivalry’s the only thing I’ve known in this sport. I don’t even know what else there is without it.”

Her expression twisted in hurt. “So the rivalry is more important than me?”

He looked back at her, alarmed. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

“Because that’s what it sounds like.” She sat up suddenly, reaching for her clothes. “I’m not asking you to stop racing. I’m asking you to talk to him.”

Jeno reached for her wrist. “Y/N, wait—”

“No,” she snapped, voice sharp now. “If you can’t even try to fix this, then maybe you should just lose my number.”

That hit him like a slap.

She pulled on her clothes, shivering slightly even with the seat warmers, her wet skirt clinging to her legs. Jeno sat up, trying to find words—any words.

“I didn’t mean it like that—please just listen—”

But she was already out of the car, slamming the door behind her, walking off into the fading rain.

Jeno sat in the backseat, heart pounding, jacket falling off his shoulders, her warmth still clinging to his skin.

He’d finally had her. And he might’ve just lost her, too.

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jikookncity · 7 days ago

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Accidentally spent all night writing an angsty jaehyun x reader but it has a happy ending… should I post? 😭

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #jaehyun x reader

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jikookncity · 8 days ago

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Pirate!Haechan x Siren!Reader (Smut)

14k, unprotected sex, reader humps donghyuck in his sleep but he's super into it, riding, floor sex, dirty talk, masterbation, degradation, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault (not in detail, very quick and nothing actually happens), reader is a SIREN

The sea was glass that night—too calm for any mortal comfort. Even the stars hung back, wary of what stirred beneath the surface.

Captain Donghyuck stood at the bow of The Maiden’s Mercy, eyes locked on the black horizon. His jaw clenched, fingers flexing over the hilt of his cutlass. Weeks he’d been chasing whispers. Months of bribing drunk sailors in dark taverns, collecting fragmented lore and forbidden charts. All leading to this: the rumored trail to the ancient, cursed treasure said to grant a man power and riches beyond belief.

But only a siren could guide him there.

And tonight, he'd baited one.

The trap was brutal—crude magic mixed with silver nets soaked in sacred oil. The crew had gone silent hours ago, tension thick in the air. Then came the song, faint and honeyed, curling over the water like smoke. Men began to drift toward the sound, glazed-eyed, mesmerized. Donghyuck had clamped wax in his ears. Waited.

When she breached the surface—hair like sea silk, eyes glowing like deep emeralds—he acted.

Now, the ship creaked under moonlight as his men dragged her onto the deck, slippery and snarling, tangled in the glimmering net. Her voice was already rising, low and hypnotic, a sound that made their blood slow in their veins.

“Shut her up,” Donghyuck snapped.

Before she could release her full song, he knelt, grabbed a length of cloth, and shoved it into her mouth, gagging her roughly. She screamed behind it, thrashing in fury. Even silenced, her voice was dangerous—like desire made sound.

Her skin shimmered faintly as they hauled her upright. She was wet, furious, and wickedly stunning. Water clung to the swell of her breasts, to the curve of her hips and thighs, her tail already beginning to split as it dried, scales peeling back to reveal smooth legs beneath. Her transformation was slow but mesmerizing, her magic receding with every drop of water that left her body.

Donghyuck couldn’t look away.

His eyes roamed shamelessly over her body, sharp and intense. The slick arch of her spine. The way she stood tall, even bound and gagged, defiance sparking in her eyes. She met his gaze like she wanted to bite his throat out.

“Beautiful thing,” he muttered under his breath, smirking. “You’re going to take me to the gold.”

She hissed behind the gag.

“Lock her up,” he said, voice dark with amusement and something more primal. “Don’t let her near water. And keep her dry.”

Two crewmen dragged her down into the belly of the ship. The brig was cold, iron-barred, with a single oil lamp flickering overhead. They tossed her inside like she weighed nothing, the cell door slamming behind her.

Donghyuck followed, boots echoing on the wood floor.

He stepped up to the bars, watching as she slowly adjusted, tail now nearly gone, legs fully formed. Her hands were bound behind her back, her chest rising and falling with rage.

“You’re mine now, siren,” he said softly. “You’re going to be very useful to me.”

She met his eyes. The heat in her stare was enough to make any man flinch.

But Donghyuck only smiled.

He was used to dangerous creatures.

And he’d never wanted one more.

The ship groaned gently with the ocean's lull, but inside the brig, time stood still.

Donghyuck leaned against the iron bars, fingers toying with the keys hooked at his hip. He watched her silently for a long moment. She sat in the far corner, back pressed to the wooden wall, hair still damp and curling over her shoulders, clinging to the exposed skin of her chest. Her arms were still tied behind her, her legs curled beneath her in a posture that looked almost relaxed—until you noticed the tension in her jaw. The burning in her eyes.

He slid the cell door open with an easy hand.

She didn’t flinch. Just lifted her chin.

Donghyuck stepped inside, slow and sure, kneeling in front of her like she was something rare and volatile. He pulled the gag loose from her mouth, fingers brushing the curve of her cheek as he did.

"There," he said smoothly. “Better, isn’t it?”

Silence.

She held his gaze, lips red and parted, but said nothing.

Not a sound.

He smiled, cocking his head. “Still not speaking, huh?”

Nothing.

Donghyuck chuckled lowly and leaned in, just enough to breathe the same air as her. His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You know, there’s a rumor,” he said softly. “That if a human kisses a siren… he can breathe underwater.” He gave her a long, lingering look. “Tempting, isn’t it?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But her jaw tightened, and—

Her teeth shifted.

In the low light, her lips curled back just enough to show the beginning of fangs. Sharp. Gleaming.

Dangerous.

Donghyuck only grinned.

“Feisty,” he murmured, unbothered. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll be begging me for a kiss later.”

Still, she said nothing.

But her heart was pounding too hard now, the blood in her veins rushing with heat she hadn’t felt before. Not for any sailor. Not for any prince. She'd lured kings to their deaths, sung admirals into the sea. But this man—this pirate captain with maddening confidence and too-sharp eyes—he unsettled her.

She hated how aware she was of his warmth, how close he was, how his scent smelled like salt and smoke and danger. How he looked at her like he already owned her. It made her want to bite him.

And… something else.

Donghyuck watched her closely. He felt the tension in the air, heavy like a storm about to break.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You stay down here until you’re ready to talk. No water. No sunlight. But—” he held up a finger, “—if you decide to be a good girl and use that mouth for something other than hissing, I’ll move you upstairs. A real bed. Food. Clothes. I might even let you sit next to me at dinner.”

She bared her teeth at him again, eyes narrowed to slits.

Donghyuck smiled like she’d kissed him.

“Prison hold it is.”

He stood, and before she could react, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder with ease. She let out a muffled, furious grunt, fists pounding his back uselessly.

“Careful,” he teased, “or I might think you like being carried.”

He marched back through the brig, kicking the door open with his boot before tossing her back onto the cell’s cot like she weighed nothing. She landed with a thud, glaring murder up at him.

Donghyuck only laughed.

“You’re going to make this so much fun.”

The cell clanged shut. The keys jangled.

And the siren, still stubborn and silent, was left wondering how this man had made her body burn hotter than anything she’d felt in her immortal life.

--------------

The brig was silent except for the creak of the ship and the faint hum of the sea beneath.

Y/N sat with her back to the wall, wrists still bound behind her, gagged again after yet another failed attempt to tempt her into speech. Her sharp eyes were half-lidded, watching, waiting. Every moment on this wretched dry ship made her feel weaker, and angrier. And worse than all of it… hotter. Her body kept reacting to him—to Donghyuck—and she loathed it.

So she was all venom and stillness when the cell door creaked open without warning.

Two sailors stepped into the dim brig, lanterns swinging in their hands. They were younger. Nervous. Curious. Their eyes gleamed with something darker than fascination.

“Well, would you look at that,” one muttered, stepping closer to the bars. “They weren’t lying… she’s real.”

The second one whistled. “A real siren. I heard they can turn your brain to mush with a song… but they’ve got to be wetto do it, right? She’s harmless like this.”

They laughed under their breath, the kind of laugh that made her blood run cold with rage.

“Captain’ll kill us if he finds us down here,” one whispered, even as he pulled the key off the wall hook. “Just a look.”

“Maybe a kiss,” the other one snickered. “They say if you kiss a siren, you can breathe underwater. Could be useful.”

Y/N snarled into her gag, straining against the ropes.

“Oh, hush,” the first one said, stepping into the cell. “Let’s see if it’s true.”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. She waited.

The man crouched beside her and reached forward, tugging the gag from her mouth with a grin. “Pretty lips,” he muttered.

The second his hand moved toward her face again—

She struck.

Her mouth snapped open and her fangs sank deep into the meat of his palm. He screamed, a piercing, ragged sound as blood gushed from the wound. He stumbled backward, crashing into the floor, shrieking.

“You bitch!” the second sailor shouted, lunging forward. He tried to grab her, wrestling her down with his arms, trying to force her flat.

Y/N screamed, voice hoarse but full of fury, thrashing against his weight.

Then—

BANG.

The second sailor’s body stiffened.

Blood bloomed from his chest like spilled wine.

He crumpled beside her with a heavy thud, eyes wide, dead before he hit the ground.

Y/N froze.

The remaining man was still groaning on the floor, clutching his hand.

And behind him, standing in the doorway, was Donghyuck.

Eyes dark. Jaw clenched. Gun still smoking.

His gaze swept over the scene. The blood. Her body. Her ragged breath.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Y/N stared at him.

And then bared her teeth.

She hissed, chest rising and falling, fangs still stained red.

Donghyuck exhaled sharply and stepped into the cell, grabbing the gag from the floor and slipping it gently back between her lips. She growled, biting the cloth this time as if it offended her more than anything else.

“I never meant to put you in danger,” he muttered, voice tight with something like guilt. “You’re here for one reason—your knowledge of the treasure. That’s it. Once we find it, we part ways. Simple.”

He looked down at the dead man. Then at her.

“I can’t risk this happening again.”

He turned, barking to the crew outside, “Bring chains. And clean this mess up.”

Then to her, he added under his breath, “You’re staying in my quarters from now on. No one touches you. No one looks at you. That’s an order.”

She hissed again, but something in her chest shifted. Something unfamiliar. Heat mixed with… something that almost felt like safety.

Later that night, still gagged and still seething, Y/N sat in the corner of Donghyuck’s captain’s quarters—lavish, dark wood, lanterns swaying softly with the tide. She watched him from across the room as he scrubbed blood from his hands at the basin, back tense.

She didn’t speak, but she listened.

He stormed out to the deck minutes later.

And from the shadows, she heard his voice boom out across the crew:

“If anyone so much as thinks about stepping foot near her again without my permission,” Donghyuck shouted, voice like fire, “they’ll meet the same fate. I don’t care if it’s my first mate or my brother—death. No warnings.”

Silence.

Only the ocean dared to move after that.

And back in his cabin, Y/N closed her eyes, her heart beating too loud in her ears. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself—but for the first time since being dragged onto this cursed ship…

She wasn’t afraid.

The cabin swayed gently with the sea, wood groaning as if sighing under the tension inside.

Donghyuck had stripped his jacket first. Then his boots. Now, shirt half-unbuttoned, he stood in front of the small mirror, running a hand through his damp hair. The heat from the lanterns clung to the room like breath on skin, and he didn’t hide what he was doing—undressing, towel slung around his neck, muscles flexing as he dried his arms.

Y/N sat in the corner chair, chains loose enough now to allow movement, gag removed for dinner.

She didn’t eat.

She watched.

Unblinking.

Her green eyes raked over his torso, his hips, the patch of bare skin revealed with every shift of his shirt. She showed no shame, no embarrassment. Naked herself, her legs now fully formed, knees pulled loosely to her chest. There was no modesty in the way she sat. Sirens didn’t understand modesty.

Donghyuck noticed, of course. Every glance. Every breath.

He set down the towel and turned toward her with a cocky smirk.

“You just going to stare all night, sweetheart?”

She tilted her head slowly, voice low, rough from disuse.

“Why do humans wear clothes?”

Donghyuck froze.

He turned, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You just spoke.”

She didn’t react to his surprise. Just stared. “Answer me.”

He leaned back against the table, arms crossed. “Well,” he drawled, “humans wear clothes for privacy. Modesty. Protection. Shame, maybe. Though…” he smirked again, eyes dragging down her body, “not all of us care much for any of those things.”

Her gaze narrowed slightly. “I don’t understand. What is there to be ashamed of?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know if you’re brave, clueless, or both.”

He took a step toward her. Then another.

Close enough to make the air shift between them.

“Do sirens have sex?” he asked casually, voice low and dangerous.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath caught. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped, voice raspier now, cheeks flushing.

“Oh,” he said, leaning in, just enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You’re shy now?” He tilted his head. “So maybe you do understand shame.”

She didn’t move. But her eyes flicked away for the first time, lips slightly parted, breath unsteady. The strange ache between her legs was growing again. Sharp and hot. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore. The tail she once had had never throbbed like this.

Donghyuck smiled darkly, voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“You’re missing out,” he murmured. “Nothing feels better than being stretched out… by the right man.”

Y/N gasped.

The heat pulsed between her thighs, involuntary and unbearable. She clenched her legs together, swallowing hard.

He backed up with a smirk, hands raised.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said lightly. “I’m not touching you.”

He turned his back, walking toward the washbasin.

“But I need a cold shower.”

--------------

The captain’s quarters were dark, save for the soft sway of the oil lantern hanging above the bed. The ship rocked gently beneath them, a lullaby for the damned.

Y/N lay beside Donghyuck, her wrists still chained loosely to the bedframe. Her gag remained—softened now, cloth instead of rope—but still firm in its purpose. Her sharp fangs had proven too dangerous to trust, even when she slept.

She wore one of his shirts, oversized and hanging off her body in soft folds. He’d pulled it over her head hours ago with grumbled concern—“can’t have you freezing and dying before you tell me where the damn treasure is.” But now…

Now she was writhing in the sheets.

Donghyuck blinked awake, breath catching when he realized what he was seeing.

Y/N’s back arched gently, body twisting, her thighs clenching and shifting under the covers. Her chest rose and fell fast, nipples pebbling through the thin fabric of his shirt. Sweat gleamed on her skin like ocean mist, lips parted around the gag as low, sweet moans slipped from her throat—soft, needy, unaware.

She was dreaming.

And it was filthy.

Donghyuck stayed frozen for a beat, then slowly turned onto his side, watching.

Watching as she arched again, helpless to the sensations wracking her body.

A lazy, smug smile spread across his face. He tucked a hand under his head, just enjoying the show.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Her eyes fluttered open with a soft gasp, brows pinched in confusion, body still shivering.

Donghyuck leaned over her, eyes locked on hers. He cupped her jaw roughly, tilting her face toward him.

“Did you have a good dream?” he asked, voice low and rough, taunting. “Huh, sweetheart? Was it me you were dreaming about?”

She whimpered behind the gag, stunned by the intensity of what she felt—her thighs slick, her core throbbing. Nothing had ever felt like this before. Not in the sea. Not in her tail.

Donghyuck’s nose grazed her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent was sweeter than before—ripe with heat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, yanking himself back suddenly like he’d been burned. “You’re dangerous.”

He threw himself onto his back, arm over his eyes, breathing heavy.

Beside him, Y/N let out a frustrated, muffled shriek. Her body was a wildfire she couldn’t douse, and he was the match that lit it. She glared at him, then at herself, furious with the aching between her legs, the wetness, the longing. She’d never wanted anyone—certainly not a human. But Donghyuck was ruining her. And she hated how good it felt.

-------------

Donghyuck sat her beside him at the long dining table on deck, the chains still discreetly hidden under the tablecloth. She wore a second shirt now—tighter, cleaner, less oversized—but the gag was finally gone.

Her eyes were sharp as ever, scanning the gathered crew like a cornered animal.

She didn’t touch the food in front of her.

The rest of the crew avoided looking at her directly, except for the occasional sidelong glance or whispered mutter. The woman who had killed one of their own and left another maimed—what kind of creature had they let onto the ship?

Then a voice cut through the tension, warm and gentle.

“It’s alright.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked up.

Across the table sat a young man—freckles, tousled hair, a soft smile. His posture was relaxed but confident.

“I’m Mark,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you. Once all this treasure nonsense is sorted, you’ll be free. I promise.”

Donghyuck glanced at him but said nothing, letting the moment breathe.

Y/N didn’t respond. Not with words. But her gaze lingered. Just for a second.

And then, quietly, without looking away from Mark—

She picked up a piece of fruit and bit into it.

Donghyuck didn’t smile.

But he saw it.

And he didn’t miss the flare of jealousy tightening in his gut.

The captain’s quarters were quiet again. The sound of the ocean just outside the hull, wind brushing over the sails. Lanternlight flickered across polished wood and tattered maps, bathing the room in a soft gold.

Y/N sat on the edge of the captain’s bed, legs crossed, chains still looped gently around her ankles and one wrist. She could move freely within the space, but not far enough to escape. Not yet.

Donghyuck stood across the room, cleaning his pistol, back turned.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, voice smooth but sharp. “Even if I lead you to the treasure… you won’t survive it.”

He paused, the soft click of metal stopping mid-motion.

“There are traps,” she continued. “Ancient ones. Ones meant to tear men like you apart.”

He glanced over his shoulder, brow quirked, smirking. “Men like me?”

“Greedy. Arrogant. Mortal.”

He turned to face her fully, arms folding across his chest. “I appreciate the concern,” he drawled, “but don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ve survived worse than a few booby traps.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes—and then, without warning, reached for the hem of the shirt he’d given her. She tugged it over her head and dropped it carelessly onto the bed beside her.

Nude. Unbothered.

Like the sea had never taught her modesty.

“This thing is restricting,” she said simply. “Annoying in the heat.”

Donghyuck froze.

His gaze raked over her—bare legs, full breasts, soft stomach, smooth skin shimmering slightly from the heat of the room. His jaw flexed. He turned his head and dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly like trying to anchor himself.

Y/N noticed.

Her voice came low and amused. “Why do you always get so fidgety when I take my clothes off?”

Donghyuck dragged his eyes back to hers. There was no smirk now—just something darker.

“Because you’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said. “And I’m trying very hard not to ruin you before you beg me to.”

Her lips parted.

Then she scowled.

“You’re filthy,” she snapped. “That’ll never happen.”

He grinned lazily, stepping closer, unbothered. “We’ll see.”

The silence that followed was thick. It throbbed.

Then he cleared his throat and turned toward the table, grabbing the covered tray he’d brought earlier. He set it down beside her on the bed and lifted the lid.

“Dinner.”

She eyed the food, then her wrists.

“My chains hurt,” she said. “Feed me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You bite me, I shoot you.”

She tilted her chin defiantly. “You won't. You like me too much.”

His jaw ticked.

But he reached for a fork.

Y/N sat up straighter, letting her thighs spread a little wider, back arching just enough to make it clear she wasn’t shy. She opened her mouth slightly, waiting.

Donghyuck brought the fork to her lips.

The moment was too quiet. Too hot. She leaned forward and took the bite slowly, lips brushing the metal, eyes locked on his the entire time. He could feel her breath on his fingers.

He swallowed hard.

“Fuck, you’re dangerous,” he muttered.

She smiled wickedly, licking her lips. “You said that already.”

He fed her again, and again. Closer. Slower. Each bite a challenge, each glance a test of will.

She could feel his thigh just inches from hers, the warmth of his skin, the tight control in every motion. Her body pulsed with the same restless, aching heat as the night before. She didn’t understand it—but she knew it was his fault. He was the reason her new legs trembled and her core clenched and her skin felt too hot to touch.

And yet…

She opened her mouth again.

And Donghyuck, lips parted, breathing harder now, gave her one more bite.

Then another.

Until he was very sure he needed to leave before he forgot all his rules.

--------------

The captain’s quarters were too warm again.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off the side, the remains of dinner pushed aside. Her skin still glistened slightly with heat, her breath just a touch too shallow, chest rising and falling beneath the loose shirt she’d reluctantly thrown on after their intimate feeding.

Donghyuck leaned against the far wall, arms folded, shirt untucked now, damp curls clinging to his forehead. He watched her. Always watching her.

She shifted, tugging at the collar of the shirt. “Why does my body… feel like this?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Hot. Tight. Weak.” She scowled at her own thighs. “It’s like something’s pulling at me. Inside.”

Donghyuck bit back a groan. He walked slowly toward the bed, crouched down in front of her, hands braced on his knees.

“That’s called arousal, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and smug. “It means your body wants something.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That can’t be it.”

He leaned in. Close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. “Oh, it’s it. Trust me.”

Y/N’s legs twitched. Her breath caught. Her mouth opened like she might ask something else—but then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The sound of a fist pounding the captain’s door.

Donghyuck groaned in frustration, standing.

“What?” he barked.

“Storm’s rolling in fast,” a voice called from outside. “Wind’s shifting hard. Could get ugly.”

Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. Then turned to Y/N with a sigh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the timing.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Always when it’s getting good.”

He crossed the room, unlocked the door, and opened it—revealing Mark standing at attention.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “She doesn’t leave. No one goes in or out unless it’s me.”

Mark nodded quickly. “Aye, Captain.”

Donghyuck turned back to her once more, smirking. “Be good, sweetheart. We’ll finish this talk later.”

Then he was gone, boots thudding down the stairs as the storm began to howl outside.

Mark stood awkwardly in the corner, eyes on the floor.

Y/N sat still for a while, silent.

“You can sit,” she said after a long pause. “I’m not going to eat you.”

Mark laughed nervously, pulling over a chair. “Sorry. I just— I’ve never seen another siren before or been this close to one.”

“I figured.”

“You… look more human than I thought you would.”

She smirked. “Is that disappointing?”

He looked flustered. “No! No, not at all. You’re, uh… beautiful. I mean. You know. For a creature that eats sailors.”

Y/N’s laughter was soft, surprising even herself. “You’re not like the others.”

Mark’s cheeks flushed. “I just think… it’s wrong to treat you like a prisoner when you haven’t even done anything to us yet. At least not something anyone didn't deserve”

She tilted her head. “So innocent,” she muttered under her breath.

Mark cleared his throat and tried not to look at her too long—but his eyes flickered down her body again before jerking away. “You, um… don’t like wearing clothes, do you?”

“No.” She stood slowly, letting the shirt she’d taken off earlier slip through her fingers. “They don’t make sense.”

Mark turned bright red, eyes immediately snapping to the ceiling. “Could you— maybe just put it back on? Please?”

She grinned, amused. “You’re no fun.”

But she slipped the shirt back on anyway.

Not for modesty.

For him.

An hour later, the door creaked open again.

Donghyuck returned soaked to the bone, hair dripping, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He looked wild, wind-whipped, and irritated—but his eyes landed on Y/N immediately, scanning for any signs of disobedience. Then flicked briefly to Mark.

“She behave?” he asked.

Mark nodded. “Yes, Captain. Quiet as a tidepool.”

“Good.” Donghyuck clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re dismissed. Go help the others prep for the storm. Tie everything down.”

Mark hesitated just a second, glanced back at Y/N, then nodded again and slipped out.

Donghyuck turned toward her slowly, eyes darker now, tension rolling off him in waves.

“It’s gonna be a busy night,” he said, voice quiet. “Don’t try anything.”

She lifted her chin. “I won’t.”

“Good. Because even if you did…” he stepped forward, close enough to make her breath catch, “we’re too far from your precious waters. Weeks away. That’s assuming you even know how to find your way home.”

She didn’t reply—but she felt the reminder sink into her stomach like a stone.

He stepped back, peeling off his wet shirt, muscles flexing in the low light.

Y/N’s thighs pressed together without her meaning to.

And Donghyuck—smirking now, towel in hand—noticed.

------------

The storm battered the ship from all sides, waves crashing like thunder, the hull creaking under nature’s weight. But inside the captain’s quarters, the real chaos was simmering under skin.

Y/N couldn’t sit still.

Her legs pressed together, thighs clenching and rubbing in search of friction. Her breaths were shallow, desperate. She paced, then sat, then squirmed in the chair near the bed, her chains clinking softly with every twitch.

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Like I’m being punished.”

Across the room, Donghyuck leaned back in his chair with maddening calm, sweat on his brow despite the cool sea air. He gave her a lazy smirk, eyes dragging down her bare legs, her parted lips, the clear desperation in every movement of her hips.

“I could fix that,” he said casually, voice low and obscene. “One good fuck, and you’d stop whining. You’d forget your name. Forget the treasure. Forget your tail ever existed.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, screeching, pushing off the wall.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch.

“I’d fuck you right here,” he murmured. “Bent over this chair, your ass high, screaming my name while I ruin your tight, virgin—”

She shoved him, furious, her entire body burning.

But the anger wasn’t enough to stop the heat pulsing between her legs, slick and aching and starved. Her breaths came faster now. Her body moved on its own.

She fell back into the chair and finally—finally—spread her legs wide.

Right in front of him.

And slid her hand between them.

Donghyuck’s mouth went dry.

Y/N moaned softly, fingers brushing her soaked slit, back arching, hair sticking to her sweat-damp neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, biting her lip, grinding down against her own hand like she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck—” Donghyuck stood up fast, storming toward her. “No.”

Before she could get any relief, he grabbed her wrist and yanked it away. “You don’t get to touch yourself like that in mychair.”

She growled, struggling. “You’re the reason I feel like this! You—you did something to me!”

Donghyuck tightened the chains at her wrists, locking her arms behind the chairpost this time, more secure. “Damn right I did.”

“I hate you,” she hissed, grinding herself down against the edge of the chair instead, desperate now, wild. “I hate this—!”

Her shirt rode up, bare heat pressing into the wood, her hips working back and forth in quick, helpless bursts. She moaned through gritted teeth, unable to stop.

Donghyuck stood frozen for a second, chest heaving, sweat rolling down his temple. He was rock hard now, and furious about it.

Then he snapped.

In one motion, he grabbed her and hauled her up—slamming her back against the wall, her wrists still pinned, her body flush to his front.

“You need to fucking stop,” he growled, voice shredded and desperate, his breath hot against her neck. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips were pressed into her ass, his hardness impossible to ignore. His hand braced next to her head, the other gripping the chain at her wrists.

She squirmed in his hold, panting, not even trying to deny how wet she was now, how badly her body was begging for him.

Donghyuck’s mouth hovered at her ear. His voice was broken and raw.

“If you don’t stop grinding that sweet little cunt on my wall, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Y/N whimpered, biting her lip, her thighs trembling.

He pulled away with effort, pacing back like a caged animal.

“Cold shower,” he muttered, half to himself. “I need—another fucking—cold shower.”

The door slammed behind him as he left.

Y/N slid down the wall, still breathing like she’d run a mile, her body wrecked and unsatisfied, trembling with need.

And for the first time, she whispered into the empty room,

“…please.”

--------------

The storm howled like a living beast.

Waves slammed against the ship, wood groaning, sails snapping in the wind. Y/N sat in the captain’s quarters, arms still chained, legs twitching with every crash of thunder. She could hear yelling. Panic. Footsteps pounding on soaked wood.

She smirked to herself, lips curling.

Serves them right, she thought. Kidnapping a siren… the sea always takes what it’s owed.

Then came the scream.

A different kind of scream.

“Man overboard!”

And then Donghyuck’s voice, raw and broken, cutting through the chaos.

“MARK!”

Y/N’s heart stopped.

She didn’t know why. Didn’t want to know. But her body moved before her mind could stop it.

She yanked against the chains. The wood creaked. Her pulse thundered louder than the storm.

The door was locked.

But not for long.

She hurled herself against it, over and over, rage and panic giving her unnatural strength. Finally, with a splintering crack, it burst open—her bare feet hitting the wet deck, hair whipping around her face as rain poured down like knives.

The crew turned, shocked by the sight of her. One flash of glowing green eyes, bare legs morphing mid-sprint into her glittering tail, and then—

She dove.

Smooth and silent.

The sea swallowed her whole.

Donghyuck stood at the railing, rain blinding him, chest heaving. His heart sank. She’s gone. She escaped. Mark’s dead. He lost them both.

Then—

“Captain!”

A cry from the lookout.

He turned—

And saw her.

Y/N broke the surface a few feet away, struggling against the current but slicing through the waves with practiced ease. In her arms was Mark, limp but breathing, blood running from his temple.

She swam toward the rope ladder with all the strength she had left.

Hands reached down to help them up—crew pulling Mark up first, shouting orders, pressing on his chest.

Donghyuck dropped to his knees beside him.

“Breathe, Mark—breathe, damn it—”

Mark choked suddenly, coughing up water. His eyes opened, wide and dazed.

The crew let out a collective cry of relief.

Donghyuck exhaled like he’d been underwater himself.

Then slowly, his eyes rose—

And locked on her.

Y/N, still soaked, her long tail glittering beneath her, skin pale and trembling. She clung to the side of the ship, arms shaking as she tried to haul herself further onboard, struggling between tail and legs, caught in the in-between.

She was free.

She had water. She had her voice.

She could’ve sung them all to the bottom of the ocean.

But she didn’t.

She just… stared at him.

Her green eyes blazing. Her face unreadable. The siren in her was alive—but so was something else. Something cracked wide open in her chest.

Donghyuck stood, staring back, drenched and stunned.

She hissed softly when she slipped, tail thudding against the slick deck. She couldn’t stand—not with her legs gone again.

He didn’t say a word.

He just walked over, slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her easily against his chest.

Her head rested against his shoulder, but she didn’t speak.

He didn’t look at her again.

Just turned and carried her silently back into the captain’s quarters, sea-soaked and glowing and heavier than anything he’d ever held.

He set her down gently on the bed.

And walked back out, closing the door behind him, jaw clenched as he went to check on Mark.

----------

The noon sun pierced through a blanket of gray clouds, casting the deck in a soft, golden light. The worst of the storm had passed. The crew moved slower today—tired, hungover on fear—but when Y/N stepped out from below deck, every head turned.

This time, no one whispered.

They stood still. Silent. And then—

A chorus of nods.

Some gave awkward bows. Others mumbled their thanks.

One even left a piece of fruit at her seat before scurrying off.

Y/N blinked, suspicious.

“What is this?”

Donghyuck, seated beside her at the long wooden table, didn’t look up.

“They’re grateful,” he muttered. “You saved Mark. They thought you’d let him drown.”

Y/N scoffed. “I thought about it.”

The crew laughed nervously.

Then Mark appeared.

Hair still damp, temple bandaged, eyes soft.

He came to her side, his steps slow but sure.

“I owe you my life,” he said quietly.

Y/N stared at him for a long time, then picked up a piece of bread, tearing it in half.

“You saved me first,” she said. “You treated me like a person.”

Mark smiled, lips twitching like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

Y/N finally ate. Cleaned her plate in silence. The rest of the crew subtly relaxed, the atmosphere growing warmer as the waves calmed.

She stood up abruptly.

“I want to go back to my room.”

Donghyuck raised a brow but didn’t argue. “It’s actually my room.”

She shot him a glare. “Not anymore.”

He stood, motioning for her to follow, still oddly quiet since last night.

The door shut with a soft click. Y/N padded across the floor, tail now gone, legs beneath her again. She sat on the edge of the bed, folding one leg beneath her, eyes on him.

Donghyuck remained standing.

Silent.

Brooding.

“What’s your problem?” she asked.

He didn’t look at her.

“You’ve barely looked at me all day,” she said. “I saved your crew. I saved Mark. You’d think you’d be a little more charming again.”

Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, ragged breath.

“You did,” he said. “You did save him. And I… have no fucking clue what to do with that.”

He finally looked at her. Really looked at her.

“All I’ve done is kidnap you. Chain you up. Threaten you. And you still—” his jaw tightened. “You still dove into a storm and brought back the one person I can’t live without.”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t soften. But something in her expression shifted—like the weight of what they were finally naming was too heavy to ignore.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said.

“I know.”

Silence.

Then—

“I’ll tell you where the gold is.”

Donghyuck blinked.

She stood, moving closer, stopping just in front of him.

“But once we find it,” she said quietly, “you let me go. We both know I could've sunk your entire crew and ship last night, but I didn't. I have no idea where we are and when I'm free, I want to go. I get you to your gold, you get me home. Deal?”

He swallowed. Hard.

“It’s a deal,” he said. “And I’ll give you anything else you want.”

Y/N laughed. Low. Bitter.

“There’s nothing you can give me.”

And she walked away.

Leaving Donghyuck staring after her, pulse racing, knowing damn well—

That wasn’t true.

------------

The village was small, nestled between jagged cliffs and churning sea. It was the first time Y/N had stepped on land since being dragged aboard Donghyuck’s ship, and the feeling was strange. Every texture beneath her bare feet, every new smell and sound made her pause with wide eyes and tilted head.

“Stay close,” Donghyuck muttered, his hand wrapping around hers. “There are more people here than fish.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched in his grasp. Her skin prickled at the contact — his palm warm and calloused, grounding her — and yet charged, like lightning might crackle from it at any moment. She didn’t pull away.

He didn’t either.

They walked through the narrow, cobbled streets, Donghyuck’s oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders, the belt tied too tight around her waist to keep it from slipping. She looked half wild, half regal — a siren in borrowed skin.

Heads turned. Men stared.

Donghyuck’s grip tightened.

When they entered the tailor’s shop, the bell chimed overhead.

A petite woman with silver rings on every finger looked up and beamed. “Ah! Finally, someone with taste. And—” her eyes drifted to Y/N, widening in delight. “Oh my stars. She’s beautiful.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re… more gorgeous.”

The woman laughed brightly. “What a charmer.”

Donghyuck watched in stunned silence as Y/N let herself be measured, lifted her arms, turned around, touched all the fabrics with reverence. The tailor cooed and fussed over her, telling her what colors would make her glow (as if she didn’t already), calling her skin luminous, her body perfect.

“She’s shy,” Donghyuck said offhandedly.

“I am not,” Y/N said immediately.

The tailor grinned. “You two make a cute couple.”

Both Y/N and Donghyuck froze.

“No - were not - I would never...,” they said at once, speaking over each other.

But their eyes met — and held — for a second too long.

Neither of them looked away first.

----------

Y/N gasped as they passed a group of giggling children chasing a dog through the square.

“What are those?” she whispered urgently.

Donghyuck blinked. “Kids.”

She crouched, watching them with wide, fascinated eyes. “Why are those humans so small and… cute? Are they a different breed?”

He laughed, actually laughed, and the sound made her stomach twist.

“They’re just younger,” he said. “You grow into one of me eventually.”

“Gross,” she muttered.

-----------

The tavern was loud, packed, lit with flickering torches. Music played in one corner, boots stomping on wood, laughter echoing through beer-frothed air.

Donghyuck sat at the bar with Y/N beside him, her new fitted dress snug on her hips, sleeves slipping off her shoulders. She drew attention wherever she went — but she didn’t notice. She was too busy studying how beer foamed or how humans laughed with their teeth.

Then she approached.

Tall. Stunning. Curved like the ocean. A woman in red leaned over Donghyuck’s shoulder with a coy smile, her voice honey-slick.

“Well well. Captain, you’re a long way from your usual ports.”

Donghyuck smirked. “You know me?”

“I never forget a handsome face.”

Y/N didn’t understand what was happening at first. Just that something in her belly twisted watching the woman touch his chest.

Then the woman leaned in closer — too close — and Donghyuck didn’t push her away.

Y/N’s lip curled.

She stepped forward.

Her fangs slid out like silver and she let out a powerful hiss, her eyes glowing green.

The woman screamed and stumbled back, heels catching on the floor before she bolted out of the tavern, her drink crashing to the ground behind her.

Silence fell for a beat. Then people laughed.

Donghyuck turned to her, stunned. “What the hell was that?”

Y/N shrugged, licking her teeth and smiling, unbothered. “She was annoying me.”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes, biting back a smile. “You jealous, sweetheart?”

She tilted her head, that same smug grin on her lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But she didn’t move from his side.

And when he threw an arm over the back of her chair — casually, lazily, like he was just stretching — she didn’t move away either.

-------------

The tavern was starting to fill with the night crowd — sailors, locals, girls in bright dresses, and men already leaning too close to too many glasses. The buzz of music and clinking tankards grew louder by the minute.

Y/N sat at their table beside Donghyuck, brows furrowed as he drained the last of his drink and stood up with a sigh.

“Go back to the ship,” he muttered, waving Mark over with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Take her with you. We leave first thing in the morning.”

Y/N blinked. “No.”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, already stepping away from the table. “It’s not safe for you out here at night. I want to drink. I can’t protect you when I’m drunk.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she snapped, standing too. “Not from men. Not from you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking tired. “Y/N—”

“Why?” she demanded. “So you can find some random woman to drag into bed?”

He let out a hollow laugh. A short, humorless thing.

Then he turned on her—suddenly, sharply—and shoved her back against the wooden wall of the bar. The impact made the entire tavern blur for a moment, air knocked from her lungs as his hand grabbed her jaw, holding her face.

His body was flush with hers.

His voice was low and dangerous.

“I can sleep with whoever I want.”

Y/N’s mouth parted, eyes narrowed—but she didn’t speak.

Donghyuck’s grip tightened slightly, breath warm on her cheek.

“But I won’t,” he growled. “Because it turns out, my body only fucking responds to you. So no, sweetheart. No one else is touching me tonight.”

His gaze dragged over her face, lingering on her lips, his jaw flexing like he hated the truth coming out of his own mouth.

“I just need some damn space.”

Y/N smiled then.

Sweet.

Mocking.

With fire in her eyes.

“Well,” she said coolly, “have all the damn space you want.”

She shoved him back with both hands — hard — and without looking at him again, turned and stormed across the tavern, grabbing Mark by the arm.

“Take me to the ship.”

Mark glanced between them, wide-eyed, but nodded. “Yes. Yeah—okay.”

They disappeared into the night.

Donghyuck watched her go, fists clenched at his sides, chest tight and head swimming with regret.

But he didn’t follow.

Not yet.

The tavern was almost empty when Donghyuck stumbled back into the captain’s quarters.

He’d sobered up halfway on the walk.

Partially from the night air.

Mostly from the regret.

The room was dim, lantern burning low.

Y/N was already asleep — curled on the far edge of the bed, facing the wall, arms crossed, the sheets pulled all the way around her like a cocoon. She was hogging every single blanket on the mattress, leaving none for him.

Donghyuck stood there in silence.

And just… stared.

At the stubborn set of her back. The way her hair tangled against the pillow. The rise and fall of her breath.

The space between them had never felt so suffocating.

He dropped into the bed beside her, careful not to touch her.

But his eyes stayed on her for a long, long time.

---------

The journey toward the lost treasure had begun.

The ocean was calm. The crew worked with quiet determination. And Y/N…

Y/N didn’t speak a single word to Donghyuck.

She laughed with the crew. Teased Mark. Even offered to help scrub decks just to learn how humans used “buckets.” But whenever Donghyuck walked past her, whenever he entered a room or tried to catch her eye—

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look.

Didn’t speak.

She was the picture of peace.

And it drove him insane.

“Can you pass me that rope?” she asked Mark sweetly.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he stammered, handing it over with shaking fingers.

They stood near the helm, the sea stretching wide and endless around them, the sun beating down on their shoulders.

Donghyuck stood just behind them, arms crossed, eyes burning into Y/N’s back.

“So…” Y/N said casually, tying the rope. “When you have sex… does it hurt at first?”

Mark went beet red.

“I—uh—that’s not—” He choked. “I mean, it depends! I—I wouldn’t know exactly from your perspective but I’ve read that—uh—some people—”

Donghyuck stepped in sharply. “Don’t ask him that.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, unbothered. “Why not?”

“If you want to talk about sex, you talk to me. No one else.”

She stared at him, gaze cool and sharp like sea glass.

“I’ll talk about whatever I want,” she said. “With whoever I want.”

Mark swallowed. “I’m just gonna… check the rigging. Over there. Far away. Yup.”

And he was gone.

Silence fell between them.

The wind tugged at her hair. Her jaw clenched.

“Why can’t you ever just listen to me?” Donghyuck asked, exasperated.

“Why the hell would I listen to my kidnapper?” she snapped.

He stepped closer.

Tension sparked between them instantly.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she said, sharp and defiant. “Answer my question. When does the feeling go away? The heat. The ache. It’s constant.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched. Then his smile — slow and dark — curled across his lips like oil spreading on water.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, circling her, voice low enough that only she could hear. “It doesn’t just go away. You have to work it out of your system.”

She inhaled sharply.

His hand ghosted along the edge of the railing beside her, not touching, but close enough to make her skin prickle.

“It starts with the stretch,” he said. “At first, you’ll think it’s too much. You’ll grip the sheets, maybe my arms, try to close your legs—but I’ll keep pushing. Keep rocking deeper until I hit that perfect little spot inside of you.”

Her throat bobbed with a gasp. Her eyes widened.

“And when I find it?” He smiled. “You’ll scream.”

His hand rested on the railing now, brushing hers.

“You’ll beg—maybe for me to stop, maybe for more. But I won’t stop. Not until I feel you clench around me. Until you come so hard you forget you ever had a tail.”

Y/N’s breath came in shallow, rapid bursts.

Her lips parted, face flushed, thighs pressed together like she could trap the heat and hide it.

Donghyuck leaned closer, his mouth inches from hers.

“Then,” he whispered, “and only then, you’ll finally feel relief.”

She gasped again, trembling now, breath hot and uneven against his mouth.

But he didn’t kiss her.

Didn’t touch her.

He stepped back slowly, eyes blazing.

“It’s maddening being near you,” he said roughly. “I can’t think. I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe.”

Y/N stared at him, frozen.

Every nerve in her body alive. Her heart hammering like the sea in a storm.

And Donghyuck turned away—

Before he did something they couldn’t undo.

--------

The fight still lingered in the air — sharp and heavy, like salt in a wound. Neither had spoken in hours. Not a word when the cabin door slammed. Not when they stripped down. Not when they climbed into bed.

Y/N faced the wall.

Donghyuck lay behind her, stiff and silent. His breathing was slow now, deep — finally asleep.

She wasn’t.

Not with her thighs clenched, her heart pounding, her pride bruised and burning. They hadn’t touched in days. Not since the last argument. And tonight’s silence was unbearable.

Still, she refused to turn around. Refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly she needed him.

But gods — she did.

Just once, she told herself. If she could just feel him once, maybe she’d sleep again.

So she moved.

Carefully.

Slowly, she turned, crawling over to him, straddling his waist beneath the thin blanket. He didn’t stir. His brows were relaxed in the dim light, lips parted slightly. Moonlight spilled across his cheekbones, softening the edges of a face she couldn’t stop dreaming about.

“Fuck,” she whispered, breath hitching. “You’re so handsome it hurts.”

She pulled his shirt — hers, really — off her shoulders, too hot to breathe, her skin prickling with nerves. Naked now, she placed her palms on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingertips. Her hips moved on instinct, rolling slowly, gasping softly at the friction of her bare pussy dragging against the thick fabric of his underclothes.

He groaned — in his sleep.

Her eyes widened.

Then he bucked his hips up, unconscious but needy, grinding into her with a hardness that was growing fast beneath her.

Her jaw dropped in a silent moan, heat surging through her entire body. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. Her hips moved again, and again — smoother now, bolder.

Then—

Donghyuck’s eyes snapped open.

And in one fluid, furious motion, he flipped her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress with his hand around her throat.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

Y/N arched into him, no shame, just need. “Please,” she whispered, eyes glassy with desire. “Just this once. I need you inside me.”

His grip didn’t tighten, but it stayed firm, keeping her still. His hips settled between her thighs, the outline of his cock pressing right where she wanted it.

“This what it took?” he sneered. “Had to crawl on top of me in the dark like a needy little slut to finally admit you wanted it?”

She whimpered, eyes fluttering, nodding slightly.

He exhaled a long breath — then let go of her throat, only to slide his hand up to cup her jaw. Not tender — just taking control.

“I knew you’d fold,” he murmured, his mouth finding the soft skin of her neck. “Knew you’d come begging eventually.”

He kissed down, never touching her lips, just her throat, her collarbone, lower. When his mouth found her breast, he groaned like it had been haunting him.

“Been dreaming about these,” he muttered against her skin before biting her, tongue soothing the sting right after. His hands kneaded her breasts like he owned them, thumbs circling her nipples until she writhed under him.

Then — finally — he shoved his underclothes down just enough, lined himself up, and without warning, slowly thrust all the way in.

They both moaned — loud, raw, relieved.

“Fuck,” he gasped, burying himself in her warmth. “So tight. So fucking wet. You were ready for me, weren’t you?”

Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her head tipping back, mouth open in a silent cry. She didn’t answer — didn’t need to. Her body answered for her, clenching around him like it never wanted to let go. She had never known such pleasure was possible.

He held still for a moment, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to hers.

Then he pulled back, and started to move.

Rough and deep, every thrust angled with purpose until she gasped — a sharp sound, body jerking beneath him.

Donghyuck froze. Smiled darkly.

“There it is,” he murmured, grinding into that perfect spot. “That’s the one, huh? That’s where you break.”

She was close. Already unraveling, her hands fumbling for something to hold on to — and he gave her his. Their fingers locked tight, tangled, as he thrust into her again and again, chasing the high he knew would tear her apart.

“Come for me,” he grunted, voice hoarse. “Clench around this cock. Show me how much you needed this.”

Y/N came hard, gasping his name, eyes rolled back as her body shook around him.

He followed right after, moaning into her neck, hips stuttering as he came deep inside her, still pulsing from the strength of it.

Neither of them moved right away. He stayed inside her. She kept clenching around him. His hand in hers. Their bodies still rocking from the aftershocks.

Their lips brushed once.

Almost.

But she turned her head.

And instead, he buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting the skin there like he was claiming it, like that was enough.

----------

The ship set sail at dawn.

The crew moved with purpose, laughter louder than usual, the wind kinder, the ocean calm. It felt like the tide itself was carrying them toward something great. Toward gold.

But there was something else in the air too.

A tension broken. A pressure relieved.

And Mark noticed it the moment he stepped onto the deck.

Y/N walked past him, her skin brighter somehow, the breeze playing through her hair as she gave a quiet, unreadable smile to no one in particular. Not hostile. Not annoyed. Just… content.

Glowing.

And behind her?

Donghyuck.

Looking like the smuggest bastard alive.

Mark stared at the two of them. Back and forth. Then grabbed Donghyuck’s arm as he passed and yanked him toward the stairs.

“What?” Donghyuck said, clearly amused.

Mark didn’t even lower his voice. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Donghyuck just smirked.

“You did!” Mark hissed. “Are you out of your mind?”

Donghyuck shrugged, leaning lazily against the railing. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Wait… kiss? Did you actually kiss her?”

“No,” Donghyuck said, gaze flicking out over the water. “Didn’t want to risk it. If the rumour’s true and kissing a siren lets you breathe underwater… it should be her move, don’t you think?”

Mark blinked. “So you did… everything else?”

Donghyuck didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Mark rubbed his face like he was trying to erase the mental image. “Hyuck… what are you doing? You promised to let her go after the treasure. That was the deal.”

“And nothing’s changed,” Donghyuck said easily. “She told me herself last night. Once the gold’s found, she’s gone. I’m not holding her here.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re thinking clearly,” Mark muttered. “Neither of you are.”

He turned and walked off before Donghyuck could reply.

Donghyuck stayed there, arms crossed, staring out at the horizon.

They were getting close — he could feel it. Every gust of wind in the sails, every shift of the sea whispered it. The map pieces were aligning. The route Y/N had given him made sense now. It was all falling into place.

The treasure he’d spent years chasing was within reach.

But for some reason…

He wasn’t as excited as he thought he’d be.

---------------

They docked at a small island just after midday — a quiet, hidden place off the usual routes, with thick palms, soft sand, and deep lagoons. The crew was eager to stretch their legs, get drunk, and forget, for a few hours at least, the long sea ahead.

But Donghyuck had something else in mind.

"Come on," he muttered to Y/N, not waiting for her to follow. She did anyway, silent as ever, her eyes narrowed.

They hiked through thick brush and winding paths until they reached it — a clear blue oasis tucked between rocks and vines. A hidden pool, glowing in the dappled sunlight. The air was humid. Quiet.

"You can swim here," he said simply, sitting down at the edge of the stone. “Figured you’d want the water more than the crew.”

Y/N stared at him a moment, then stepped into the pool. Her tail unfurled beneath the surface, glinting like cut glass. She sank under, disappearing completely.

Donghyuck exhaled.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think about the curve of her back, the way her skin had shimmered just before she slipped beneath the surface. He tried not to feel guilty for still being angry, and still wanting her at the same time.

The water stayed still for several seconds.

Then—

She surfaced.

Only her eyes visible.

Glowing, inhuman, shimmering beneath long wet lashes.

He felt his breath catch.

Slowly, Y/N swam toward him — silent, smooth, her glowing siren eyes fixed on his. The closer she came, the harder it was for Donghyuck to look away. His spine straightened. His muscles tensed.

Then she began to hum.

Low and haunting.

He blinked fast, eyes flickering. His fingers curled into fists.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

But it was already working.

His chest began to rise faster. His heartbeat picked up. His fingers dug into the stone beside him.

Her voice wasn’t even a full melody yet — just the start of a siren’s song, but he felt it — deep, humming in his bones, crawling beneath his skin.

Still underwater, Y/N swam toward him slowly. Gracefully. Like she had all the time in the world.

And he couldn’t move.

The hum wrapped around him like warm silk, coaxing his body forward while his mind screamed to pull back.

His jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body was locked in resistance.

Still, she came.

Rising up from the water, her hands pressed against the stone edge. Her tail glistened as she lifted herself onto the rock beside him. Her body was dripping wet, slick and glowing. His shirt was clinging to her torso — though nearly see-through now — but it was her eyes that held him.

Still glowing. Still singing.

She slid closer. Her palms pressed to his chest.

Haechan’s whole body shuddered.

She stroked along the line of his collarbone, up his throat, over the edge of his jaw.

“You’re shaking,” she said softly, a whisper wrapped in amusement.

His breath was ragged. “You’re doing it again.”

She tilted her head. “You locked me up. Shoved me in chains. What did you think I was going to do? Forgive you?”

“I thought…” His voice wavered. “I thought you might not want to hurt me.”

“I don’t,” she said, voice still light.

Then she leaned in, her lips nearly brushing his jaw.

“But I do want to remind you who I am.”

The humming stopped.

The power dropped like a stone in the water. Haechan let out a shaky breath, blinking fast, like snapping out of a dream. The air around them shifted back to normal.

She looked at him with that same quiet, smug calm—

Then dove into the water again with a twist of her tail, a splash soaking the front of his shirt.

“Hey—!” he sputtered, standing up, blinking through the droplets.

She surfaced several feet away, floating on her back now, looking up at the sky like nothing happened.

He wiped his face and swore under his breath.

She had him completely undone… and she knew it.

Then dove back into the water with a flick of her tail — splashing him hard enough to soak his clothes.

She surfaced once more near the edge of the lagoon, floating on her back like nothing happened, humming a different, sweeter tune this time. His shirt clung to his chest. His heart still hadn’t slowed.

She was playing with him.

And it was working.

The sun had dipped low over the island, casting the oasis in golden light. Haechan sat at the edge again, still wringing seawater from his shirt after her last surprise splash.

Then he felt a sharp tug at his ankle.

Before he could react, Y/N dragged him under.

He gasped—just before the water swallowed him whole.

Everything was blue and silent beneath the surface. Haechan’s eyes opened wide, panic briefly flaring in his chest, but then he saw her — Y/N gliding through the water like a dream, or a warning. Her tail flashed like a blade. Her arms outstretched toward him, eyes glowing, hair floating like ink.

He’d never seen her like this.

Powerful. In her element.

He reached for her, clumsy and human, but she twirled away from him effortlessly, circling him with ease.

She wanted him to see.

She wanted him to know this world wasn’t his.

That it belonged to her.

Haechan lasted maybe a minute.

Then the burn in his lungs became unbearable. He kicked toward the surface, breaking through the water with a sharp gasp, air flooding back into his chest.

He floated there, panting, blinking up at the sky.

Then—ripples.

Y/N surfaced too, silent.

Only her eyes visible again — glowing just above the surface, watching him.

Haechan flinched slightly. “You look terrifying when you do that,” he muttered between breaths.

Her voice cut through the air. Clear. Cool. Confident.

“I know,” she said. “That’s the point.”

It was the first thing she’d said to him in days.

He blinked at her, water dripping down his face. “What you did earlier… with your song. That wasn’t okay.”

Y/N gave a cold little laugh, tilting her head. “Neither was kidnapping me.”

Touché.

The water lapped between them, neither moving closer. But something had shifted — their anger softened by salt and breathlessness, their stubborn pride eroded by the current.

Then, quietly, she asked, “Why is the treasure so important to you anyway?”

She floated closer now, arms crossed over a slick rock, eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You have everything you need already. A ship. A crew that respects you. Power. Freedom.”

Haechan looked away.

He wiped the water from his face and leaned back, resting his elbows on the stone behind him, throat working.

He didn’t answer right away.

Then—he sighed.

“You ever want to stop running?”

Y/N blinked, thrown by the softness in his voice.

“My father was a sailor,” he said. “Honest. Poor. We lived in a shack near the docks. He used to say gold doesn’t matter unless you can rest on it. Unless it lets you stop living with one foot always ready to run.”

Y/N said nothing.

“So yeah,” Haechan muttered. “I want the treasure. I want to stop. I want to buy a patch of land so big no one can find me. Grow fruit, drink rum, sleep in. Not owe a thing to the sea. Or to anyone.”

His voice was quieter now.

“Is that so greedy?”

Y/N stared at him for a long time.

No tricks in her eyes now. No siren glow. Just… curiosity.

And maybe a hint of something softer.

“No,” she said. “It’s not.”

Haechan met her gaze.

The silence between them was different now — deeper.

Then she sank beneath the surface again, leaving only ripples.

But this time, she didn’t disappear.

She circled him once, brushed her fingers lightly along his arm underwater… then surfaced beside him, hip-to-hip, resting her chin on his shoulder with a hum.

Not a spell.

Just a sound.

Just her.

----------

Donghyuck leaned back on his elbows, sweat already glistening along his collarbones, shirt soaked from yn dragging him in earlier, watching Y/N cut through the water like sin given form. She twirled and dipped, sleek and hypnotic, her tail flashing under the surface like temptation itself.

She wasn’t just swimming.

She was performing.

And she wanted him to watch.

His cock had been hard for five minutes straight.

When she finally emerged, she didn’t say a word. Just swam to the shallows and rose — tail shifting mid-step, morphing into long, wet, bare legs. Her nipples were tight from the cool water, and her skin glistened as she sauntered toward him, dripping, powerful, devastating.

She straddled him slowly, pressing her soaked body to his fully clothed one, her heat grinding right onto his cock.

“You’re so obvious,” she whispered against his jaw. “Bringing me out here like this. Just the two of us. All alone. You wanted me loud, didn’t you?”

Donghyuck’s hands gripped her thighs, groaning under his breath. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh?” She rolled her hips, rubbing her slick pussy directly over the thick bulge in his pants. “So it’s just coincidence this place is so damn secluded? Where I can scream your name and no one will hear me?”

She ground down again — harder. “Deny it, Captain. Go on. Dare you.”

He laughed — dark and low.

“You think I brought you here for peace and quiet?” he rasped, grabbing a fistful of her ass, pulling her flush against him. “I brought you here so I could fuck you into the dirt and you wouldn’t have to hold back a single fucking sound.”

Y/N moaned, fingers already tugging his pants down, freeing his cock. She hovered over him, rubbing herself on the tip, teasing them both. “You want to hear me beg?” she whispered.

“No,” Donghyuck growled. “I want to hear you scream.”

She sank down on him in one slow, aching motion, and they both moaned — loud, unashamed.

Her head tipped back as she took every inch, hips settling in his lap. “Gods,” she gasped, rotating her hips. “You stretch me so good—”

“You were fucking made for me,” he snarled, thrusting up hard, making her cry out. “You walk around dripping, knowing exactly what you’re doing. You act like I’m the monster, but look at you—riding me in the goddamn dirt like a bitch in heat.”

Y/N braced herself on his chest, bouncing now, hair clinging to her face, breath hot and broken.

“It’s only ever been you,” she panted. “I need you.”

Donghyuck’s hands slid to her waist, watching her move like it was a vision meant for him alone. The filth of it — her slick thighs, his cock disappearing into her over and over, their mixed sounds echoing through the canyon — it drove him wild.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, eyes fluttering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not yet,” she whispered, tightening around him and riding him harder. “Not until you come inside me.”

He flipped her over without warning, slamming into her from above now, pinning her arms down.

“You want it? Then take it. But don’t you dare pretend you’re in control.”

Their bodies moved in sync — hot, sticky, brutal. They were grunting, gasping, so close to the edge it hurt.

Donghyuck found her spot again and didn’t stop, drilling into her with filthy praise spilling from his mouth.

“This pussy’s mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

“It’s yours—fuck—it’s yours—”

Their hands locked tight.

They moaned together — raw, guttural — as they came in sync, her legs shaking, his cock pulsing deep inside her.

And when it was over, when their breathing slowed and their bodies calmed, their lips hovered.

So close.

She turned her head.

And Donghyuck pressed his face into her neck, licking the sweat from her skin like he couldn’t get enough of her taste.

But she wasn’t done.

She leaned in — so close their noses brushed — and let her fangs descend.

Donghyuck’s breath hitched, eyes darkening.

She bit his bottom lip. Not too deep — just enough. A single bead of blood welled up.

Then she licked it — slow, deliberate — her tongue dragging across his lip like a promise.

Still no kiss.

Donghyuck licked his own lips after, tasting her saliva mixed with blood groaning.

"If I died right now I'd be the happiest man alive."

----------------

The sky was soft that evening back on the ship — all pink streaks and gold-dipped clouds, the sea glassy and still.

The crew was buzzing with quiet anticipation. They were close now to the treasure they had been looking for. Everyone could feel it.

Y/N stood by the railing, wind tugging at her hair as she stared at the horizon. Mark approached slowly, cautious but warm, holding two tin mugs of lukewarm tea.

"Don’t worry,” he said, offering her one. “No rum in it.”

She took it with a quiet smile.

They stood in silence for a while, the kind that didn’t feel awkward — just thoughtful.

Then she spoke, her voice low. “I’ve met a lot of bad men in my life.”

Mark glanced at her, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes on the ocean.

“Sailors. Soldiers. Hunters. Men who saw me as a prize or a monster.” She sipped her tea. “But you, Mark… you’re the most pure-hearted, kindest man I’ve ever met.”

Mark went still.

“You’re not naive,” she added quickly. “You’re good. That’s different. And I hope you never change. I hope this world doesn’t corrupt you.”

He swallowed hard. “I… thanks. That means a lot. You’re… you’re not what I expected either.”

She smiled faintly. “I know.”

Then she looked past him, toward the captain’s quarters, where Donghyuck had just stepped out, leaning against the post to watch them.

“I hope he gets everything he wanted,” Y/N said quietly, her voice dipping into something sadder, heavier. “Once he finds the treasure. I really do.”

Mark followed her gaze, then gave her a soft pat on the shoulder and left her alone.

Donghyuck didn’t say anything for a moment. Just approached, hands in his pockets, watching the sky with her.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “For kidnapping you. For everything.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Took you long enough.”

He gave a short laugh, dry and tired. “You’ll be free soon. And then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. But her silence was louder than any rejection.

Because neither of them looked happy about it.

Then—

“There,” she whispered, pointing to a shape in the distance. Faint, but unmistakable. An island rising out of the mist.

“That’s the one.”

Donghyuck’s breath caught.

He’d waited years for this.

But now, with her beside him, the weight in his chest was something else entirely.

He nodded once, quietly.

“Then let’s go.”

The island was quiet when they landed.

Too quiet.

Thick jungle framed the white sand beach like teeth, the air damp and heavy with the scent of moss and secrets. Birds didn't chirp. The wind didn't move.

Donghyuck stood at the head of the crew, compass in one hand, cutlass in the other. Beside him, Y/N watched the tree line with narrowed eyes, barefoot in the soft sand, her posture coiled and alert.

"This is it," she confirmed softly. "The map ends here."

The crew was already fanning out, eager and restless. The promise of gold was louder than caution.

“Spread out in twos,” Donghyuck ordered. “Follow the ravine north. Mark, stay close to me. Y/N—” He hesitated. “You lead.”

Y/N gave him a sharp glance, then nodded, stepping forward through the brush with eerie grace, tail gone, legs long and bare beneath the shirt and belts wrapped around her waist. The jungle swallowed them whole.

They walked for hours.

Past broken statues covered in vines. Cracked tiles with worn symbols. Booby traps long-dead — and some still very much alive. At one point, a pressure plate set off a spear that missed Mark’s head by inches.

“Stay sharp!” Donghyuck barked. “One wrong move and we’re all dead.”

Eventually, they reached a clearing — and the mouth of a temple.

Carved into the cliffside, ancient and crumbling, its pillars still standing, stone doors sealed shut.

It was there. It had to be.

The crew erupted into celebration — cheering, hugging, patting each other on the back.

And through it all, Y/N stood silent.

Until the noise died down and she stepped into the center of the clearing.

“This is where you should stop,” she said plainly. “You’ve made it. You can still turn back.”

The crew blinked at her.

Donghyuck frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Y/N looked around at all of them — her voice calm, but her words cutting.

“Everyone’s heard of the lost treasure of Elarion,” she said. “They know it’s real. But they never ask why it’s never been taken. Why no one’s claimed it.”

“Because they failed,” one sailor muttered.

Y/N shook her head slowly. “Because it’s cursed.”

The crew stilled.

“You’ll find it,” she said. “You’ll be happy. You’ll spend your wealth, buy ships, estates, women. You’ll drink the finest wine. Live like kings.”

“But it won’t last.”

Her eyes flicked to Donghyuck.

“Soon, you’ll feel it. That hollow pit in your chest. That ache that doesn’t go away. Because money doesn’t buy joy — and once you lose your hunger, you lose yourself. You won’t even realize it’s happening. Until one day, you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the man staring back.”

A long silence followed.

Mark looked visibly shaken.

One of the older crew members crossed himself.

Donghyuck held her gaze, jaw tight.

“That’s just a rumour,” he said finally. “A sailor’s tale. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Y/N shrugged, her tone almost playful now.

“Suit yourself, Captain.”

And then she turned and walked toward the temple steps.

They stood in front of the sealed temple doors, the stone surface carved with symbols older than any kingdom Donghyuck had ever plundered.

While the crew gathered torches and ropes behind them, Donghyuck stayed close to Y/N’s side, eyes flicking from the doors to her face.

“You really believe that curse story?” he asked under his breath.

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the stone like it was watching her back.

Donghyuck took a step closer. “If it were your treasure… what would you do with it?”

She glanced at him, expression unreadable. “Sirens don’t care about material things. We don’t even have a concept of wealth like you do. I am the sea. It’s always given me what I need.”

“So there’s nothing you’ve ever wanted?” he asked. “No dream? No secret longing?”

She was quiet again. Then, softly, she said:

“Maybe… companionship.”

That made him pause.

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the temple, voice low and distant.

“It can be boring, you know. Lonely. Sirens sing for fun, for instinct. But it’s always the same ending. A man falls under, drowns, screams… dies. It’s hard to crave anything different when you’re built to destroy.”

Her eyes glinted. “But sometimes I wonder what it would be like. To swim beside someone. To talk. To not have to lie. To not be feared.”

Donghyuck stared at her, something cracking in his chest. But he didn’t push her.

Instead, he reached forward — and pressed his palm to the door.

It groaned, stone mechanisms shifting and grinding.

And slowly… it opened.

Inside the temple, it was dark and warm. The air was thick with age, and the walls were carved with puzzles, riddles, strange symbols they worked through as a team — matching constellations, avoiding collapsing tiles, dodging blades that swung from the walls like silent pendulums.

It felt like the treasure didn’t want to be found.

But they pressed on.

Y/N remained silent through most of it, her expression stoic, though her eyes scanned everything — calculating, remembering, guiding.

And finally, they reached the final chamber.

The deepest cavern. The end of the path.

They stepped inside— And found nothing.

Just stone.

Cold. Empty. Dusty.

The crew froze.

Whispers filled the space.

“That’s it?” “There’s nothing here?” “We were lied to.” “We’ve wasted years.”

Mark looked at Donghyuck, who stood stock-still, face unreadable.

Y/N stepped forward slowly. Her bare feet echoed softly as she moved into the center of the room.

And then— She began to sing.

Not loudly. Not like a weapon.

Soft. Sweet. Like the lull of the waves.

The walls began to hum. Vibrate. And then… glow.

Faint gold light bloomed from the far side of the cave, spreading like sunlight over the stone.

A murmur went through the crew — and suddenly, they ran, boots pounding, shouting in disbelief.

Donghyuck was the first to reach it.

And there it was.

Endless.

Gold stacked higher than any man. Coins, crowns, goblets, swords encrusted with jewels, chests spilling open with rubies and sapphires. Ancient weapons. Royal heirlooms. Riches long lost to legend.

He stepped into the gold, his boots sinking into coins, his breath catching.

He had found it.

The treasure he’d chased his whole life.

And yet… somewhere behind him, Y/N stood quietly at the entrance of the chamber, her face calm but her eyes distant — already knowing how this story ends.

--------------

The room erupted in chaos.

Shouts of joy echoed off the golden walls. Coins clattered, chests were pried open, and men fell to their knees laughing as they let gold pour through their fingers like water. They stuffed bags, hats, even their shirts, giddy and frenzied.

One man tried to climb a mountain of coins and slipped, disappearing in an avalanche of riches. Another hugged a jewel-encrusted helmet like it was a long-lost lover. It was madness. Beautiful, sparkling madness.

But Y/N was already turning around.

Her expression unreadable as she took one last look over her shoulder.

Donghyuck stood at the center of it all, surrounded by everything he had ever wanted.

And he wasn’t moving.

Just staring.

Eyes wide, chest still. Not reaching. Not touching.

Y/N lingered for a beat longer, watching him.

He looked like a man who had just realized he was standing in the middle of his dream… and feeling absolutely nothing.

Her heart twisted.

She wondered—just for a second—what it would’ve been like if he were a siren. Or if she had been born human. If they hadn’t started as enemies. If he hadn’t caged her. If she hadn’t tried to drown him with her song.

She wondered what could’ve been.

Mark caught her gaze and saw the softness in her expression before she turned sharply and began to walk away.

He made a move to speak to Donghyuck, but Y/N raised a single finger to her lips and shook her head.

Don’t tell him.

Mark froze, dazed. Unsure if she was using her voice to compel him or if he was simply caught in her gravity.

Either way, he nodded.

And let her go.

The air outside was cooler.

The ship looked just as she left it, bobbing gently in the shallow cove where they’d anchored. The jungle was still. The water was calm.

Y/N sat at the edge of the dock, legs in the water, waiting.

She didn’t look back.

Not even when the sound of someone running behind her broke through the trees.

“Y/N!”

Donghyuck’s voice cracked, desperate.

“Y/N!”

He stumbled out of the jungle, hair wild, chest heaving, eyes wide with panic as they landed on her.

He looked like he’d just fought through hell to find her.

And he had.

She turned her head slightly as he skidded to a stop beside her.

"You promised you'd take me back home," she said quietly.

Donghyuck nodded, so breathless, so relieved it almost hurt.

"I thought—I thought you left—"

“You were busy,” she said simply.

He didn’t reply. He just stared at her, then slowly dropped to his knees beside her like he still didn’t quite believe she was real.

Mark and the rest of the crew appeared behind them, dragging sacks of loot with greedy smiles and dazed expressions.

Mark approached and handed Donghyuck a bag.

“Figured you’d want something. You didn’t take anything.”

Donghyuck didn’t even look at it.

He just dropped the bag at his feet.

And kept staring at her.

The crew laughed, already talking about where they’d go next, what they’d buy, who they’d become.

But Donghyuck didn’t join them.

Because his treasure was already here.

And she was still deciding whether or not she’d let him keep it.

-------------

The water was calmer than it had been in weeks — still and deep, a silken blue stretching endlessly in every direction. The sun was beginning to set behind them, casting the ship and its weary crew in a molten glow.

They had arrived.

Her waters.

Home.

Y/N stood at the edge of the deck, the wind in her hair, the salt thick in her lungs. She could feel it in her bones — the ocean humming with welcome. It had missed her.

Behind her, Donghyuck stood with his arms crossed, eyes unreadable. He hadn’t said much on the journey back. Not since they left the island. Not since she chose to sit alone, staring at the sea instead of at him.

Now he came closer, steps slow, uncertain.

“This is it,” he said softly.

Y/N didn’t look at him, just nodded. “It is.”

A beat.

Then she turned.

“I hope you’re happy, Donghyuck,” she said sincerely. “Really. You found what you were looking for. You got your gold. You completed your quest.”

He winced.

She saw it.

The way her words hit something raw.

Like they tasted bitter coming from her.

“I’m not proud of how this started,” he said. “But I am sorry. For everything.”

She nodded again, slower this time, letting the silence hang between them like mist.

Then she turned to the rest of the crew, offering them a quiet smile.

“Goodbye,” she said, and then, surprising even herself— “Thank you.”

She stepped forward and hugged Mark — arms around his shoulders, a warm squeeze. He blinked in stunned silence, then hugged her back fiercely.

The first human she had ever touched with affection.

The only one she hadn’t tried to drown.

Then she turned to Donghyuck once more.

Their eyes met.

Nothing was said.

But everything was felt.

------------------

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jikookncity · 9 days ago

Text

Bad-Boy Yuta x Good-Girl Reader (smut)

Y/n is a good girl who’s sick of nice boring boys who treat her like a fragile piece of glass in the bedroom. Cue Nakamoto Yuta.

WC: 2.6k, unprotected sex, oral sex, rough sex, spitting, biting, degradation, corruption kink no (some of these are in part 2)

Y/N stirred her tea with both hands, cheeks pink from the sun and her soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder.

“Aw, you’re so cute,” Haechan cooed from across the table, snapping a picture before she could protest.

She giggled, flustered, hiding her face behind her mug.

“I’m not that cute,” she mumbled.

But no one believed her.

Y/N was the one who always offered to drive people home. Who cried at sad commercials. Who baked cookies for birthdays. The one you introduced to your mom because she’d call her Mrs. Lee and bring her flowers.

She wore soft pastels. Pink gloss. Sweet perfume. She blushed when someone flirted too hard.

Of course, no one would ever suspect what she really liked.

What she really needed.

That night, she was on her knees in Yuta’s apartment, throat full of him, eyes glassy with tears and spit dripping from her chin.

“Look at you,” Yuta snarled, hand wrapped in her hair, forcing her deeper until her nose was buried against his abs.

She moaned around him.

He pulled her off with a wet pop, grabbing her jaw in one hand and dragging her mouth open. Her tongue lolled out automatically—trained—and he spat straight onto it.

“Swallow.”

She obeyed, cheeks burning, thighs clenching from nothing more than the sound of his voice.

“Get on the bed.”

The mattress creaked under her knees as she climbed up, heart pounding, soaking through the cotton of her panties.

Yuta didn’t waste time. He grabbed her by the hips, ripped the panties down, and drove into her in one quick motion.

Y/N screamed.

He stretched her. Made her feel full, like none of those “nice guys” ever had. Her nails clawed the sheets, mouth wide open in a moan as Yuta pounded into her from behind, rough and fast, no mercy.

“You let all those boring, soft little boys touch you?” he growled, leaning down, fingers bruising into her hips. “Bet they asked if this was okay every time they moved. Bet they couldn’t even make you cum.”

She whined. “They didn’t—I didn’t—I couldn’t…”

Yuta chuckled darkly, thrusting harder. “Of course not. You needed someone to ruin you.”

She gasped as he spanked her hard, once, then again, the sting blooming instantly.

“You needed someone to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, eyes fluttering shut, spit glistening on her lips. “Yes, Yuta—please—don’t stop—”

He grabbed her hair and yanked, forcing her arch back sharper. Her back bowed, breasts bouncing with every thrust as his pace turned savage.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered into her ear, biting the shell of it, then dragging his teeth down her neck. “My filthy little angel.”

Her eyes rolled back. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me,” he ordered. “Right now. Make a mess for me.”

She shattered with a scream, clenching hard around him as her body convulsed. He didn’t stop, even as she trembled violently under him, whimpering from overstimulation. He fucked her straight through it, his hand coming down again to leave a red palm print on her ass.

When he came, he was grunting curses into her skin, spilling deep inside with one final hard thrust before collapsing over her.

They lay there for a beat, tangled and breathless, her face buried in the sheets and his teeth gently grazing her shoulder as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses over the bite marks he left.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured into her skin.

She nodded weakly, blissed out and ruined.

And all the while, her phone buzzed on the nightstand with a new message from Mark.

hey yn! dinner next week? my mom’s in town, i told her about you :) hope you’re free!

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment before giggling quietly.

No one had a clue.

————————

It was supposed to be a regular group hangout—loud music, cheap beer, someone rolling joints in the back room, and everyone crammed into Johnny’s place like always.

Y/N was perched on the armrest of the couch between Ningning and Mark, giggling softly at something they said, sipping from a cherry-flavored drink with her legs tucked up.

Then Yuta walked in.

A few cheers went up. "Finally!" "Where the hell were you?" "Late as always."

But Y/N’s drink nearly slipped from her hand.

Because there it was—a fresh black tattoo crawling up the side of his neck, bold and sleek, inked right over the tendon like it owned him. Like he owned it.

He said he got it on impulse. Shrugged it off.

The group swarmed him, admiring it, hyping him up. “Dude, that’s hard.” “Badass as fuck.” “Did it hurt?”

Y/N said nothing.

Because she was too busy crossing her legs tighter, breath caught in her throat, heart pounding in her ears.

And Yuta knew it. He felt her staring.

And when his gaze finally dragged across the room and landed on her—slow and cocky—he smirked.

Like he already knew she was soaked.

That night, she was crawling toward him in nothing but soft white lingerie—delicate lace cupping her tits, thin straps sliding off her shoulders, the tiniest bow between her thighs.

“Yuta,” she whispered, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Please.”

“Use your words, angel.”

“I need you,” she breathed. “Need your cock—need to feel you. Can I ride you?”

He didn’t even speak. Just dropped onto the couch, jeans halfway undone, cock already hard and heavy against his stomach.

Y/N straddled him, needy hands guiding him inside her inch by inch, her mouth falling open in a broken gasp.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, rolling her hips. “You feel so good—so full…”

Yuta grabbed her ass in both hands, slapping it hard, making her jolt with a cry.

“Yeah? You love this cock, don’t you?” he growled, thrusting up into her. “Love how I fuck you open like no one else ever did?”

“Yes—yes, Yuta—only you.”

She raked her hands through his hair, pulling his face toward her neck, and then she bit him—hard, teeth sinking in as she rode him faster.

Then her lips were on his neck, licking, sucking, worshipping the ink she’d been fantasizing about since the moment she saw it. Her tongue traced the edges of the new tattoo as her hips snapped down faster.

Yuta groaned, slamming his hips up into her. “Yeah, suck it, angel. You love this shit, huh? Love my tattoos, my piercings, my fuckin’ hands on your ass.”

“I love everything about you,” she babbled, out of breath and cock-drunk. “Your tattoos, your voice, your hands—your hair, your fucking mouth—”

“Then cum on it,” he hissed, voice ragged. “Ride it like you mean it.”

And she did.

Head thrown back, hips grinding wildly, eyes fluttering shut as she moaned his name like a prayer, cumming hard around him with a sob. He followed with a groan, grabbing her hips and holding her down as he filled her deep.

They kissed through it—sloppy, desperate, messy—and she stayed on his lap for a moment, trembling, hearts pounding together.

Yuta pressed a kiss to her temple. “Fuck, angel…”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Carry me to bed?”

He scooped her up with ease, still half-hard, walking them to the bedroom like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

Sometime later, when the world had quieted and their bodies were tangled in soft sheets, Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny tin.

“What’s that?” Yuta asked, voice thick with sleep and sex.

She straddled his waist gently, soft thighs pressing against his hips, her hands warm.

“Tattoo balm,” she said with a shy little smile. “Saw it at the store. I figured you’d forget to take care of it properly.”

He blinked, speechless, as she opened it and dipped her fingers inside.

Then, carefully, she leaned down and began rubbing the soothing cream into his neck with slow, tender circles. Her touch was gentle—nothing like the way she fucked.

“Don’t scratch it,” she murmured. “Even if it itches.”

He watched her. Silent.

No one had ever done this. Not for him.

The way she touched him—like he was something worth caring for—made something tighten in his chest.

She looked up then, fingers still gently massaging balm into his skin. “What?”

Yuta didn’t answer.

He just pulled her down and kissed her.

And this time... it wasn’t rough.

It wasn’t even about sex.

It was soft. Slow.

Maybe even a little dangerous.

Because Yuta realized something as she curled up against his chest after:

This might not be just a hookup anymore.

——————————

The party was already loud when Y/N walked in, the soft shimmer of her dress catching the light and her sweet little smile lighting up the room more than the string lights ever could.

Yuta saw her the second she stepped through the door.

He was leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, talking to Johnny, but his eyes never left her. Not when she hugged people. Not when she laughed. Not when she slipped off her coat and revealed the bare skin of her shoulders, that smooth glow he’d had his mouth on too many times to count.

He was just about to go to her when he showed up.

The guy in the leather jacket.

Tall. Tattooed. Cocky. Just like Yuta.

Y/N was leaning against the wall, smile soft, drink cradled between her hands as Leather Jacket started talking to her. Something about music. Or her dress. Whatever it was, it made her laugh.

Yuta’s jaw tightened.

The guy stepped closer.

Y/N didn’t push him away—of course not. She was sweet, she was polite. She was herself. But it didn’t matter.

Yuta slammed his cup down, already walking.

“Yo,” he said, tone calm but eyes sharp as he stopped next to them. “Back off.”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, didn’t realize she was taken.”

“She is.”

Y/N blinked up at him, confused. “Yuta?”

He didn’t answer her. Just slid his hand into hers—warm, firm—and pulled her away from the crowd without another word.

The hallway was quieter. Dimmer.

Her heels clicked softly against the wood as he backed her into the wall, but this time he didn’t pin her.

He didn’t growl or bark orders or rip anything off.

He just leaned down and kissed her.

Slow. Deep. Desperate.

Y/N melted instantly, her arms sliding around his shoulders, mouth opening for him as their lips moved like they were trying to memorize each other.

“Yuta,” she whispered when they broke apart. “What was that about?”

His forehead pressed to hers, breath shaky.

“I don’t like people flirting with you,” he muttered, kissing her jaw. “Don’t like the way he looked at you like you’re available.”

Her breath hitched as his hands gripped her hips.

“You’re not. You’re mine.”

She blinked, wide-eyed. “Yuta…”

Another kiss, slower this time. A thumb brushing under her eye like she might cry. His voice came low and honest against her mouth.

“I don’t wanna fuck around anymore,” he said. “I want you. Just you. Be mine, angel. Be with me.”

Y/N smiled, soft and glowing, her heart pounding as she kissed him again and again between her words.

“I already am.”

He smiled too—grin lazy and a little stunned—and kissed her until the noise of the party faded into nothing.

They didn’t have sex in that hallway.

Not that night.

But the kiss?

It was the dirtiest, most tender thing Yuta had ever done.

And for the first time, it meant everything.

Being his girlfriend didn’t change a thing.

Yuta still kissed like he wanted to own her soul. Still fucked like he didn’t believe in mercy. Still looked at her like she was his favorite sin.

But now?

Now he did it with even less restraint.

They barely made it through the door.

———————

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#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #yuta x y/n #yuta x you #yuta imagines #nct yuta #yuta fluff #yuta x reader #yuta smut #nakamoto yuta #yuta nakamoto #nct smut

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jikookncity · 11 days ago

Text

Jaehyun x Reader - Wedding Reunions

Fluff + Smut

She hadn't expected to see him. Jaehyun.

He stood near the bar in a sharp navy suit, broad shoulders stretching the fabric, his military build impossible to ignore. His jawline was sharper now, his stance more solid. Confident. Commanding. His hair was slicked back just enough, but a few strands fell forward like they used to, like nothing had changed. But everything had.

Y/N gasped before she could stop herself, clutching her champagne flute a little tighter. He looked unreal—masculine and clean-cut, his medals gone but the discipline still clinging to him like cologne.

Their eyes met.

Jaehyun blinked once, and then again, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His lips parted slightly, jaw ticking when he took her in. Her silk dress clung to every curve, the deep slit and delicate straps doing nothing to help his composure. She looked like a dream he used to beg to forget and now was terrified to remember.

He didn’t approach—not right away. But the second she left the crowd, excusing herself into the hallway, he followed.

Y/N didn’t make it far.

A strong hand grabbed her wrist and tugged her gently into a quiet corridor, the muffled bass of the reception fading behind them. She didn’t need to turn to know it was him. She felt him. The warmth. The gravity.

"You're really here," he said, voice deeper, rougher—like gravel and longing mixed into one. She finally faced him, chin tilted defiantly even though her stomach twisted.

"I could say the same," she murmured.

His eyes raked over her shamelessly. "You look..." He dragged a hand through his hair, stepping closer until she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. "...like trouble."

She smirked. "You're the one who left, Jaehyun."

He nodded, jaw clenched. "And you're the one I never stopped thinking about."

There was heat now. Charged and dangerous. She took a step back, and he followed. She hit the wall, silk brushing the cool paint. Jaehyun loomed over her, one hand flat beside her head, the other tugging slightly on the strap of her dress.

"You have no idea what seeing you in this is doing to me," he murmured low against her ear. "All night, I’ve been trying to be good. Respectful. But you keep looking at me like you want me to ruin you again."

She shivered. "You left, Jae. We had to end it."

"I know," he breathed, dragging his nose along her jaw. "And I’d undo every damn second of that decision if it meant I could have you again. Even for one night."

Her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket. He was so warm. Solid. She felt herself slipping—just a little. Just enough to remember what his hands felt like gripping her thighs.

"One night," she whispered, almost to herself.

Jaehyun grinned, slow and wolfish. "Baby… One night’s all I need to make you forget the time we lost."

Then he kissed her—desperate and deep—like she was oxygen and he’d been drowning for years.

They didn’t speak as they left the venue—just a look, a twitch of Jaehyun’s fingers before Y/N grabbed his hand and followed him through the back exit like her body had been waiting years to obey his again.

His apartment was only fifteen minutes away, but the ride felt eternal. Jaehyun’s thigh bounced the whole time, one hand clenched around the steering wheel, the other twitching at his side like he was holding himself back from reaching for her. Y/N stared out the window, pretending her pulse wasn’t racing, pretending her panties weren’t already soaked from just being near him.

The second they got through his door, he spun and kissed her again.

Hard. Desperate. Unapologetic.

Their teeth clashed. Her fingers tore at the buttons of his shirt. He groaned when she scratched down his chest. The door slammed shut behind them.

But something made her pause.

Photos.

Frames lined the walls and shelves—old ones of him with friends, his unit… and her. One of them at the beach. One of her laughing at some stupid joke he’d told, curled in his lap. She picked it up with trembling fingers.

"You never took them down," she whispered.

Jaehyun’s voice was rough behind her. "Couldn’t."

He came up behind her, pressing his chest to her back, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I told myself I had to forget you… but I couldn’t. Not when every part of this place still smells like you."

Y/N turned, heart lurching. He looked at her like she was still his—like he’d never let her go, even when he had to.

She surged forward and kissed him, and he gripped her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he stumbled toward the bedroom, lips locked, teeth scraping. He dropped her on the bed, then covered her body with his own like he was finally home.

His hands were everywhere—clutching her hips, sliding under the silk of her dress. “You know how many nights I imagined this?” he rasped, grinding down against her clothed core. “You underneath me, moaning my name like you used to…”

"Then shut up and do it," she panted, tugging at his belt.

He groaned, burying his face in her neck as she finally freed him, her fingers wrapping around his length. "Shit, Y/N… still know exactly how to touch me."

Her dress was around her waist now, his jacket long gone, and her panties were soaked through. He pulled them to the side and ran his fingers through her folds, hissing at how wet she was. "Fuck. You missed this, didn’t you?"

She nodded breathlessly, hips bucking into his hand. “I thought about you every night,” she gasped. “Your mouth, your voice—how you used to fuck me like I was the only thing that mattered.”

His mouth crashed into hers again, filthy and full of longing. “You are the only thing that ever mattered,” he growled, lining himself up. “Now take it, baby. Let me give you everything I’ve been holding in.”

He pushed into her in one slow, deep thrust—filling her so perfectly she cried out.

Jaehyun didn’t stop moving. His thrusts were rough, relentless, but his kisses were tender—his mouth brushing over her cheeks, her temple, her lips like he was worshipping her between each roll of his hips.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned, gripping her thighs and spreading them wider. “Fucking hell—tight, warm, perfect. Mine.”

“Jae—” her voice broke on a moan, hands clutching at his shoulders. “I missed this. I missed you.”

He leaned down, foreheads pressed together as he drove into her over and over. “Then take all of me. Just for tonight, let me be yours again.”

She came hard, crying out his name, her legs trembling around his waist. And when he followed—groaning low, body tense, spilling into her with a shudder—he didn’t stop holding her.

Not even when it was over. Not even when the room fell quiet again.

Only the sound of their breaths and the soft kiss he pressed to her hair remained.

The room was dark now, save for the golden streetlight bleeding in through the blinds. Y/N lay on her side, Jaehyun behind her, his arm slung over her waist like it had never stopped belonging there. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles into her skin, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

It should’ve felt wrong. Reckless. But instead, it just felt like… peace.

Y/N broke the silence first, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “How’s it been?” she asked. “The military.”

He didn’t answer right away. She felt him sigh against the nape of her neck before his voice finally rumbled through her.

“I like it,” he murmured. “Structure’s good for me. And I’ve learned a lot. Discipline, leadership… how to stay calm under pressure.”

She hummed, eyes still fixed on the shadows on the wall.

“But,” he added, a bit quieter now, “I hate being away. From my friends. From real life. From…” His hand squeezed her waist a little tighter. “...you.”

Y/N swallowed. The air between them thickened—not just with tension this time, but history. Truth.

She turned to face him, pushing back slightly so they were eye to eye. Her fingers brushed a stray piece of hair from his forehead.

“Jae… we broke up for a reason,” she said gently, searching his eyes. “It was too hard. We were growing apart. It hurt like hell, but it was the right thing.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, voice calm. Steady. “We did.”

And then he smiled—that crooked, boyish smile that used to melt her from the inside out.

“So we could get back together the right way.”

Y/N blinked, stunned. “What?”

“I wasn’t ready before. I didn’t know how to love you without needing you to save me. But now…” he reached up, cupping her cheek. “Now I’ve been away long enough to know exactly who and what I want.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You,” he whispered. “I want you. Not just for one night. Not just in my bed.”

“Jae…”

“I know it’s crazy,” he added quickly. “I know we said this was just fun. But if tonight meant even a fraction of what it meant to me—for you too—then don’t shut me out. Just say you’ll think about it. About us.”

Y/N’s heart thudded painfully, caught between caution and everything she still felt.

She didn’t answer—not yet.

But she didn’t pull away either.

And Jaehyun smiled like maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

-----------

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jikookncity · 11 days ago

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seated for fire bender jaehyun 🫣🤩 he's gonna be hot 🔥🔥🔥🔥

👀👀

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