onlyforyoukook

[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 014 did we hear that right?

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- taglist ; @serenedreamscape @haechology @spacejip @chenlesfeetpic @413ktz @galacticpurpl3 @slayhaechan @bananinhazz @jaeminnanaaa17 @flaminghotyourmom @iraa567 @toroufriteh @joneborder @chenlezip @cottonjaems @hyuckluvr-com @jwisteroid7 @haechanluverr @sofix-hc7 @blueblazings @sibwol @bbykaixx @hoeingthefuckup @markleesleftpinky @dearmynayeon @supergreatgoo @kswluvrr

[onlyforyoukook]

bf seonghwa

bf seonghwa! who always checks in to make sure you’re okay, physically and emotionally. he’s the type to adjust your scarf or coat in the cold and gently wipe food from your lips.

bf seonghwa! who constantly holds your hand, gives you forehead kisses, and cuddles. he thrives on showing his love through physical touch.

bf!seonghwa! who surprises you with flowers, your favorite snacks, or small gifts just because he’s thinking of you.

bf!seonghwa! who listens intently when you talk and remembers even the smallest details about your day or stories you’ve shared before.

bf!seonghwa! who always looks stunning, and he’ll subtly match his outfits with yours. complimenting how good you look constantly.

bf!seonghwa! who supportive when you’re stressed or upset, he knows exactly what to say and do to make you feel better.

bf!seonghwa who teases you in a sweet way but knows when to stop and be serious. his smile lights up every time you laugh at his jokes.

bf!seonghwa who is soft-spoken in public but completely different behind closed doors — the kind of lover who takes his time with you, touches deliberate, gaze dark and heavy with want.

bf!seonghwa who loves making you fall apart under his hands. He’s obsessed with your reactions — the way you squirm when he kisses your inner thighs, the sharp inhale you take when his fingers trail up your stomach. He takes mental notes every time.

bf!seonghwa who talks you through every high. Soft murmurs like “You’re doing so good for me,” and “Look at you… falling apart on just my fingers,” whispered against your skin while his hands never stop moving.

bf!seonghwa who starts slow — feather-light touches, breath on your neck, teasing you until you’re whining for more — but once he gets started? He does not stop until you’re breathless and shaking, completely ruined in the best way.

bf!seonghwa who loves aftercare just as much as the act itself. He’ll run you a bath, clean you up, kiss every mark he left, and hold you close while whispering how much he loves you into your hair.

bf!seonghwa who finds power in your pleasure. He loves knowing it’s him who gets you like this — flushed, needy, saying his name like a prayer.

bf!seonghwa who never rushes anything. He makes love like it’s art — hands gliding over you like he’s memorizing every inch. And when he’s deep inside you, whispering “You feel like home” into your ear… you know he means it.

[onlyforyoukook]

Roommate Rule #7: Don’t fall in love

paring: roommate¡johnny x fem¡reader

synopsis: You made one rule when moving in with Johnny Suh: don’t fall in love. But after one too many late nights and one too few boundaries, breaking it feels inevitable.

wc: 3.3k

warnings: 🔞 Mature Content (18+) Roommate AU, Oral sex, (f receiving) fingering,Aftercare, Slight angst & Dirty talk, domish Johnny

Rule #7: Don’t Fall in Love With Your Roommate.

You wrote it on a sticky note your first week living with Johnny Suh and stuck it dead center on the fridge, right below his schedule and above the magnets shaped like tiny penises. He laughed when he saw it.

“I break hearts, not fridges,” he said, that cocky smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your chastity’s safe with me.” You rolled your eyes. But you also knew what you were getting into.

Tall. Tatted. Too charming for his own good. Johnny was every walking red flag you told your friends you’d never fall for, which is exactly why you agreed to the roommate situation in the first place. Two bedrooms. Cheap rent. No romantic risk.Simple. That was before you realized the walls were basically paper. Now, you hear everything. The headboard. The girls. His voice.

The worst part isn’t even the noise it’s the way he acts the next morning. Like nothing happened. Like you didn’t lay awake for three hours with your pillow over your head, staring at the ceiling while someone else got to fall apart underneath him.

You learned not to flinch when you hear it. Not to react when you walk into the kitchen the next day and see a stranger’s toothbrush in your cup. And when he teases you about never getting any? You play it cool. Because you refuse to be another name on his list. You refuse to care.

But still… Every time he laughs that deep, reckless laugh or says your name low and slow like it means something…

It gets harder to remember Rule #7.

You unlock the front door, earbuds in, exhausted from class and craving nothing but a shower, a hoodie, and silence. Instead, you walk into chaos.

Heels on the welcome mat.

A jacket tossed on the arm of the couch.

A lacy black bra, her bra, hanging off the doorknob to Johnny’s room like some kind of victory flag. You stop in your tracks.

Your keys are still in your hand. Your mouth is flat. The girl giggles from inside his room, her voice high and bubbly, followed by the unmistakable sound of his laugh.

You blink. Then turn right back around. But you don’t even make it to the door before it opens behind you.

“YN?” His voice is thick with sleep. Or sex. Probably both. “Where you going?” You turn slowly, glaring over your shoulder. “The fuck do you mean where am I going?”

Johnny leans against the frame of his bedroom door, hair messy, sweatpants slung low, and absolutely nothing on top. There’s a hickey blooming at the base of his throat.

He smirks. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”

You scoff. “I live here, jackass.”

“Oh, right.” His smile stretches wider, lazy and amused. “My bad. Guess you don’t usually come home this early.”

Your eyes flick to the bra. Then back to him.

“You could’ve at least cleaned up the battlefield before inviting civilians over.”

Johnny shrugs like he doesn’t see the problem. “She’s chill. She won’t be long.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow. She must feel so special.”

“She’s not the one writing rules about not falling in love with her roommate,” he says, voice lower, teasing. “You sure you’re not the one catching feelings?”

You walk toward him, slow, steady, until you’re close enough to smell his cologne mixed with her perfume.

“Only feeling I’ve got right now,” you murmur, “is disgust.”

And with that, you walk past him calm, collected, pretending your heart isn’t pounding so loud it echoes in your ears. You slam your bedroom door. It doesn’t drown out the sounds coming from his.

The giggle.

The moan.

The “Johnny~” that makes your skin crawl.

Your suitcase is half-packed in thirty seconds.

Toothbrush. Phone charger. A hoodie. Extra panties. You don’t even think. You’re on autopilot, stuffing your things into a duffel with one hand while texting your best friend:

you up? can i crash? he’s being gross again.

No questions. She says yes.

You don’t bother saying anything to Johnny as you walk out the front door.

[Two Hours Later – Johnny’s Room]

She’s gone.

The girl who was in his bed is already dressed and checking her phone. He barely remembers her name. Didn’t care to ask for her number.

His head’s pounding. His room smells like sex and regret. He walks out to the kitchen to grab a water—and that’s when he notices it.

Your shoes are gone.

Your keys are gone.

Your room is dark.

“YN?” he calls softly. No answer.

He walks to your door. Knocks. Opens it. Empty.

He checks your location, but you’ve got it turned off.

You haven’t read any of his texts. And suddenly it hits him in the chest like a truck. You left. You never leave.

[One Hour Later – Your Phone]

Johnny: where are you

Johnny: y/n i’m not playing, you good?

Johnny: i didn’t mean to piss you off

Johnny: at least tell me you’re safe.

Johnny: please.

Johnny: come home.

Your screen lights up again. It’s the tenth message in two hours. You put your phone face-down on the pillow.

Your friend glances over at you. “You sure you don’t wanna text him back?”

You shake your head. “He can fuck someone else to sleep tonight. Not my problem.” But your chest aches anyway.

And Johnny? He’s pacing the living room at 2:17AM like he’s never felt so stupid. Because for the first time in a long time — He actually wants someone to stay. And she walked out.

The apartment smells like faint cologne and stale regret.

You push open the door slowly, unsure if he’s even home — until you see him.

Johnny’s on the couch, completely wrecked. Hair all over the place. Yesterday’s hoodie. One sock on, the other lost somewhere. His phone is face-down on his chest, and there are two water bottles on the floor like he couldn’t figure out which one was coldest.

He’s asleep. But it’s not peaceful. He looks stressed even in his dreams — brows slightly furrowed, lips parted like he was mid-sentence before sleep yanked him under.

You step inside, setting your bag down quietly. The click of the lock wakes him up instantly. His eyes fly open. He sees you. He sits up so fast he nearly drops his phone. “YN?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Expecting someone else?”

He blinks. Still groggy. Still confused. “You… You weren’t here.”

“Wow. You do pay attention.”

“Wait.” He stands up slowly. “When did you leave?”

“Last night,” you say, voice cool. “Mid-thrust, if I had to guess.”

He winces like you slapped him. You head toward your room, but he follows.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were busy,” you say without looking at him. “Didn’t wanna ruin the moment.”

Johnny rubs a hand down his face. “You blocked your location. I didn’t know if something happened. I thought maybe you were—”

“What? Hurt?” you turn around, arms crossed. “You didn’t even notice I was gone until hours later, Johnny. Be for real.”

He swallows. “I didn’t think you’d actually… leave.”

You stare at him, exhausted. “Neither did I.”

Johnny stands in the hallway, frozen in front of your door as you start unpacking your bag like nothing happened.

“I didn’t think you’d actually leave,” he says again, a little quieter this time.

You shake your head. “You didn’t think about me at all, Johnny.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, really?” You glance over your shoulder, eyes sharp. “You were too busy getting your ego stroked by some girl who doesn’t even know your real middle name. And I was sitting there in my room, again, pillow over my head, trying not to scream.”

He opens his mouth — but nothing comes out.

You keep going, voice steady but loaded. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to pretend I don’t hear it? How many times I walked into the kitchen and saw some random girl wearing my hoodie and just smiled like it was no big deal?”

He flinches. He didn’t know that.

“YN…”

“No, seriously,” you say, folding your arms across your chest, trying to keep the crack in your voice from showing. “Why now? Why do you care that I left? What changed?”

His jaw tenses.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, finally looking you in the eye. “I just… when you weren’t here, it felt—”

“Empty?” you finish flatly.

He nods once.

You sigh. “You don’t get to suddenly miss me just because you realized I won’t always stay.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s different now. Thicker. Heavier.

He steps a little closer. “You think I don’t care about you?”

You look up at him, really look at him, and for once… he doesn’t have that cocky shield in his eyes.

“I think you’re used to people letting you get away with things,” you whisper. “And I’m not one of them.”

He doesn’t speak. Just stands there, breathing harder than he should be, chest rising and falling like he wants to say a hundred things but doesn’t know how.

You step past him again, brushing against his arm. “Clean up your mess, Johnny. I’m not gonna be one of your regrets.” His hand catches your wrist.

You freeze.

Not because he’s rough. He’s not. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go again.

You turn your head slowly, meeting his eyes. And they’re wide — raw. Like everything he’s ever swallowed down is suddenly clawing its way to the surface.

“I don’t want you to be,” he says, voice low.

You blink. “What?”

“One of my regrets.”

His grip tightens just a little. “I don’t want that. I don’t want you to be that.”

You stare at him, not saying anything, because your heart is racing, and you’ve spent weeks building walls around it. But the way he’s looking at you now—

Like you’re not just some girl.

Like you’re not just a warm body.

Like you’re his person.

“Then show me,” you whisper, almost like a dare.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth is on yours in seconds.

Hot. Desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for too long and it finally snaps. His hands are in your hair, your hoodie, pulling you closer like he needs to feel everything.

You don’t push him away. You pull him closer. Your back hits the wall as he kisses you harder, like he’s trying to memorize you. His lips move against yours with heat and hunger but there’s something else too—something that feels like longing. ike he’s kissing you for every night he made you hear someone else. For every time he teased you just to keep his distance. For every time he wanted to touch you and didn’t.

You gasp into his mouth, and he takes it like oxygen.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping tight. Your fingers tug at his hair and he groans into the kiss—low, rough, real.

When he finally pulls back, just a breath away, his forehead rests against yours.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “And I still don’t know what I’m doing. But if you tell me to stop right now, I will.”

You stare at him, lips still parted, chest rising and falling.

But you don’t tell him to stop.

You whisper, “Then don’t.” Johnny's eyes darken with desire at your words. He steps closer, his presence towering over you as he cups your face with one hand.

“You're playing with fire, YN,” he growls softly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “But I like it.”

Johnny backs you against the wall, his tall frame caging you in. His other hand slides down to your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

“I've wanted to have you like this for so long, YN. All to myself.” He leans down, his breath hot against your neck as he kisses along your jawline. His lips find that sensitive spot behind your ear, making you shiver. His knee pushes between your legs, creating friction that makes you gasp.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. “I need to hear you say it.” His eyes lock onto yours, filled with desire. His fingers trace patterns on your thigh as he waits, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation.

“I want you to take control,” he breathes huskily. “Show me what you like, YN. Let me please you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at Johnny, your hands sliding up his chest.

“I want you to make me feel good, Johnny. Touch me everywhere.” Your voice is soft but commanding, filled with a confidence that makes his eyes lower even more.

Johnny groans at your words, his control slipping further. His hands move to the hem of your shirt again, this time pulling it up slowly.

“As you wish, beautiful. I'll make sure you never forget this night.” He kisses you deeply, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. His hands glide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher as his thumbs brush over your nipples through your bra. He swallows hard, visibly affected by the feel of you.

“God, you're perfect,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck as he continues his exploration. His skilled fingers expertly unhook your bra, letting it fall away. He takes a moment to admire you, his breathing becoming heavier.

“You're absolutely stunning, YN. I could spend hours just looking at you.” He gently cups your boobs, his thumbs circling your nipples more deliberately now.

He leans down, capturing one nipple in his mouth while his other hand teases the other. His tongue flicks and sucks with increasing intensity.

“I want to taste every part of you,” he says, moving to give your other boob equal attention. His free hand slides down your stomach. Johnny pauses his ministrations, looking up at you with lustfilled eyes as his hand hovers at the waistband of your pants.

“Can I take these off, baby? I need to feel all of you.” His voice is filled with desire, his fingers playing with the button. You nod, biting your lip as you watch him with heated anticipation. “Yes, Johnny. Take them off.” You lift your hips slightly, helping him as he slowly undoes the button and zipper, slowly sliding them down your legs. His eyes widen at the sight of your underwear.

“Fuck, you're wearing my favorite color,” he murmurs, running his fingers along the edge of the fabric. “This just got even better.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband, looking up at you for permission again. His breathing becomes more ragged, his pupils dilated with desire.

“May I?” His voice is husky, barely above a whisper as he waits for your consent. Your breath hitches as you nod again, your heart pounding in your chest. You reachdown to help him, your fingers brushing against his.

“Please, Johnny. I need you to touch me.”You whisper, your eyes locked with his. With a groan, Johnny pulls your underwear down, exposing you completely. His hands tremble slightly as they grip your thighs. “You're absolutely breathtaking, YN. Every inch of you is perfect.” He positions himself between your legs, his gaze intense and hungry. Johnny's eyes darken with desire as he takes in your exposed form. His hands slide higher up your thighs, thumbs gently spreading you open. “I've dreamed about this moment,” he confesses, his voice thick with need. “About tasting you, making you mine.”

He leans down, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. His tongue darts out to tease your inner thigh. You moan softly at his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Then show me, Johnny. Show me how much you want me.” your voice is breathy and needy, her body arching toward him. Johnny growls at your words, He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, moving closer to where you want him most. His tongue finally makes contact with your clit, circling it slowly. He flicks his tongue expertly, alternating between long strokes and quick flicks. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

“You taste even better than I imagined,”he murmurs against you, before diving back in with renewed intensity. One hand slides down to tease your entrance, gathering your wetness before slowly pushing a finger inside.

“So wet for me already,” he groans, adding another finger and curling them upward. You gasp writhing beneath him, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Oh god, Johnny, right there. Don't stop.” you moan louder, your hips bucking against his mouth and fingers. Johnny adds a third finger, pacing them faster while his tongue works your clit mercilessly. He looks up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers first. Then I'll give you what you really need.” His voice is commanding yet tender, filled with raw desire. Your body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“Mphh fuck—Johnny” you cry out, trembling with pleasure. Johnny watches your face intently, not stopping until he's milked every last wave from you. He then slowly withdraws his fingers, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk.

“Beautiful. absolutely beautiful” He positions himself above you, his hard length pressing against your entrance. His hands frame your face as he leans down for a deep kiss.

“Ready for more, baby?” He asks huskily, grinding against you teasingly.

You pant, still coming down from your high. Your eyes lock with his, filled with desire and trust.

“Yes... I need you inside me, Johnny. Please...” Your voice is soft but needy, your body arching toward him eagerly.

Johnny captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he slowly begins to push inside, groaning at how tight and wet she is.

“Fuck, you're perfect... so perfect.” He bottoms out, giving you time to adjust while his hands explore your curves. He starts moving with deep, deliberate thrusts, watching your face for every reaction.

“Tell me how it feels, baby. Tell me who's making you feel this good.” His voice is rough with pleasure as he sets a steady rhythm. YN moans loudly, her nails digging into his back.

“You're making me feel incredible, so full, don't stop, Johnny.” You wraps your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Johnny growls and increases his pace, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

“That's it, baby. Take all of me. I want to feel you come again.” His thrusts become more urgent.

Your eyes roll back as the pleasure builds again, your walls fluttering around him.

“I'm close, so close again, faster, please” You beg desperately, your body trembling with need. Johnny groans deeply as he feels you tightening around him, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“Cum with me, baby. Let go for me one more time.” He slams into you one final time, burying himself deep as he releases inside of you. Both of you collapse together, breathless and spent. He holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your sweaty forehead as aftershocks of pleasure course through your bodies.

You’re still trembling when he pulls out, careful and slow, and disappears for a second to grab a warm towel and water.

When he comes back, he wraps you in his arms like you’re something breakable. No teasing. No jokes. Just his hand on your back, his breath in your hair, his voice quiet.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod. “Yeah. I… I’m good.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “That wasn’t just sex for me. I need you to know that.” You look up, surprised by how serious his eyes are.

“I believe you,” you whisper.

And for the first time in weeks.. maybe months—you let yourself fully relax against him. Safe. Seen. Wanted. No rules this time.

Just you and him.

[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 013 THE yuta nakamoto

All you remember is the way Rheya’s face changed last night like her whole world cracked in two the second Yuta leaned in and whispered that thing in her ear. Like her whole mask just… slid off. And now you’re here. Club Black. Again. But it’s different this time.

You’re not here to party. You’re here to find out what the hell she’s been hiding. And why Yuta is the one holding all her secrets.

Yuqi keeps looking over at you as you push through the line like she’s trying to read your face.

Haechan’s chewing gum like it’s a weapon. “You sure about this?” he mutters.

“Nope,” you say, and walk anyway.

The bouncer sees you doesn’t even ask. Just pulls the velvet rope and nods like it’s a routine now. Like you’re expected. Because you are.

You don’t say thank you. You don’t look back. You’re already moving through the crowd like it’s fog. Neon lights blink across your face, bodies swaying, but all of it’s just noise.

You already know where he is. Same place. Same dark booth behind the curtain, where only legends sit.

And there he is—Yuta Nakamoto.

Leaning back like a goddamn painting. Drink in one hand, mouth lazy. Rings flashing. Tattoos peeking under his sleeve.And when he sees you, he smiles. You don’t return it. You stand in front of him, chest hot, jaw tight.

“What did you say to her?”

Your voice is sharper than usual, maybe shaking a little, but it doesn’t matter. You mean every word.

He studies you for a second like he’s trying to decide how much truth you can handle.

Then—

“I reminded her I know everything she’s done.”

His voice is calm. Dead calm.

You stare. “What does that mean?”

He sets the glass down. Slow. “It means I was there when she got drunk in Japan. When she called her first love. When she met up with him… again. And again.”

Your stomach turns… Yuta keeps going. “I didn’t need proof. I was the proof.”

You take a step back, like the words physically hit you.

“She loves Chenle, sure. In her own way.” He shrugs. “But she was never honest with him. Not once.”

You feel like you’re falling. Like everything’s sliding out from under you.

“She sent me to distract you,” he says. That smile again. “Said if you had someone else, maybe you’d finally leave Chenle alone.”

Yuqi lets out a breath behind you, like she just got hit too.

“Guess her plan backfired,” Yuta adds, eyes dark, voice quieter now. “Because the more she talked about you, the more I wanted to meet you myself.”

You blink. “Wait, so you knew about me this whole time?”

He nods. “I’ve been watching since before the club. Twitter, too.”

“You followed me yesterday.”

“Because I wanted you to know I’m done hiding.”

It’s silent for a beat. The music outside thumps faintly through the walls, like a heartbeat.

You look at him, this rockstar who’s supposed to be above all this drama but somehow, he’s knee deep in it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He leans in close, eyes on your mouth for a second before looking back at you.

“Because you deserve the truth. And because I’m not here for Rheya. Not anymore.”

You swallow hard.

Yuqi whispers behind you, “What the fuck is going on…”

And for once, you don’t have an answer. Because you were supposed to come here for clarity. But Yuta? He just flipped the whole story upside down. And now you have no idea where this is about to go.

“Come with me.”

His voice is low but firm. He’s already sliding out of the booth, hand brushing your arm like he’s making sure you feel him.

You hesitate. Yuqi grabs your wrist. “Are you seriously about to go with him right now?”

Her eyes are wide, voice tight. “After everything he just said?”

You look at her, look at Haechan, and then at Yuta who’s just standing there watching, patient but not backing down.

“I need answers,” you say.

But even you don’t know if that’s all you want. He leads you through another curtain VIP-VIP. The kind of place with no phones, no cameras. Just velvet walls and secrets. He shuts the door behind you.

“Okay,” you snap. “So tell me everything. Why now? Why me?”

Yuta turns, the light hitting his jaw just right. He doesn’t speak right away. He looks at you. Really looks. Like he’s trying to memorize you.

“She talks about you like she hates you,” he says. “But people don’t talk like that unless they’re scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of being replaced.”

He steps closer. “She saw the way Chenle looked at you. How you didn’t even try, and still had his attention.”

“That’s not my fault,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, “but she didn’t care. So she sent me. Said, ‘Flirt with her, mess with her head. Make her back off.’”

He pauses. “But I didn’t want to mess with you. I just… wanted to know you.”

You stare at him. “So what, now you’re some kind of twisted love letter?”

He laughs once, breathy. “Maybe. But I meant it. I’d ruin her if she touched you. And I still will.”

You can’t breathe. Not because it’s romantic but because it’s real. Dangerous. Messy.

And that’s when the door FLIES open.

You both snap your heads—

It’s Chenle.

Out of breath. Eyes blazing.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Yuqi and Haechan are behind him, trying to pull him back, but it’s too late.

“Chenle—”

“I knew it,” he spits. “I knew something was off. Rheya’s crying in the car, saying some shit about secrets and you and Yuta?”

Yuta doesn’t flinch. “She should’ve told you herself.”

“Oh, like you’re innocent?” Chenle steps in. “You always wanted what I had.”

Yuta steps forward too, calm but deadly. “She came to me, remember?”

Chenle’s breathing hard. His fists are clenched. You’re stuck between them, heart racing.

“She was cheating on you,” Yuta interrupts, sharp. “You’re mad at the wrong person.”

Chenle’s face twists. “Shut the hell up—”

“She told me to distract her,” Yuta snaps, pointing at you. “And I did. But guess what? I ended up wanting her instead.”

Silence. Dead silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

You step forward. “Chenle—”

But he just shakes his head and walks out. Shoving past Haechan. Pushing through the curtain like he’s suffocating.

You don’t follow.

You just stand there.

And Yuta’s still watching you, his voice quiet now. “I told you this wouldn’t be clean.”

And it’s not. It’s a goddamn disaster.

But you can’t lie—Your heart’s still beating fast.

It’s from him. Chenle.

masterlist - previous - next

- taglist ; @serenedreamscape @haechology @spacejip @chenlesfeetpic @413ktz @galacticpurpl3 @slayhaechan @bananinhazz @jaeminnanaaa17 @flaminghotyourmom @iraa567 @toroufriteh @joneborder @chenlezip @cottonjaems @hyuckluvr-com @jwisteroid7 @haechanluverr @sofix-hc7 @blueblazings @sibwol @bbykaixx @hoeingthefuckup @markleesleftpinky @dearmynayeon @supergreatgoo @kswluvrr

[onlyforyoukook]

Plushie Confessions | l.yy

paring: yangyang x fem¡reader

synopsis: yangyang wins you a plushie at an arcade and names it after himself. at first, it’s just a joke but he lowkey gets jealous when you cuddle it too much. turns out, he was using it as an excuse to get closer to you, and he finally confesses.

wc: 829

genre: fluffyyy

You never expected the day to go like this.

Yangyang was the one who suggested going out. Nothing big just walking around, getting snacks, doing nothing together. Those were the kind of days he liked most. No plans, no loud places. Just you and him, wandering around until the sky turned orange.

It was your idea to stop by the little arcade near the corner. You liked the lights. He liked the silly games. The place wasn’t busy, just a few kids and someone eating soft noodles near the back. You both drifted from machine to machine, laughing, losing, laughing more.

Then you saw the claw machine. You paused in front of it, pointing through the glass. There was a little bear inside, tucked in the corner light brown with a floppy head and a tiny smile.

Yangyang leaned down beside you.

“You want it?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at it. It reminded you of something small and sleepy. It was cute. You liked cute.

Before you could say yes, he was already pulling coins from his pocket.

“I’ll win it for you,” he said.

You smiled, but your voice was teasing.

“You really think you can?”

He glanced at you with that grin half cocky, half playful. “I’m lucky when you’re watching.”

The claw dropped.

Missed.

Twice.

Then three times.

You were trying not to laugh, but he was talking to the machine like it could hear him.

“Don’t embarrass me,” he whispered to it. “She’s watching.”

On the fourth try, the claw actually caught the bear. Wobbly and slow, it pulled it up and over and barely dropped it into the prize chute.

“HA!” he shouted, way too loud for how small the bear was. “See? Told you.”

He grabbed it and turned toward you, holding it out like a gift. But then paused.

“Actually,” he said, “I’m naming it after me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“It’s me now. A mini version. So technically I’m giving you me.”

You stared at him. He kept going, clearly nervous now. “Like, now you can cuddle me whenever. Or yell at me if I’m not there. He’s me. So be nice to him, okay?”

He pushed the bear into your arms and walked away before you could say anything, muttering, “Just don’t forget he’s me.”

That night, the plushie slept beside you. You didn’t plan it, really. You were just lying there, and it was already in your hands. You looked at it for a while, then turned your head and tucked it under your arm.

The next morning, Yangyang texted you.

“Did he behave?”

“No talking back?”

“He snores, I’m warning you.”

You sent him a picture of the plushie sitting on your pillow.

“He took your spot.”

“Too late to take him back.”

Yangyang didn’t answer for a while.

But when he did, it was just:

“Don’t let him fall in love with you too.”

Weeks passed.

The plushie started showing up in your photos. You didn’t mean to include it, but it was always there—in your bed, on your desk, beside your juice box, hiding in your hoodie sleeve. You started calling it “Yang.”

Yangyang didn’t say anything at first.

Then one day, he came over. Late afternoon, golden sunlight peeking through the blinds. You were curled up on your couch, half asleep, the plushie tucked under your chin.

He sat beside you quietly. Didn’t say anything right away. Then, softly, he lifted the plushie out of your arms and looked at it.

“He’s getting a little too comfy,” he said.

You smiled, eyes barely open. “He’s warm.”

“I can do better than warm.”

Yangyang set the bear down gently, then pulled the blanket back and slid beside you. He didn’t ask.

He just settled in slowly, his arm brushing yours, his hand close but not touching.

“Hey,” he whispered after a moment.

You hummed in response.

“That plushie thing,” he said. “It wasn’t just a joke.”

You turned your head, eyes meeting his.

“I think I gave it to you because I wanted to give you something of me. But then I started getting jealous of it. ‘Cause you hug it like you’d hug me. And you smile at it. And sometimes I think… maybe you like him more than me.”

You stared at him, heart softening.

“Do you?” he asked, voice a little smaller.

You shook your head. “No.”

He let out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours.

You turned your body toward him. “You can stay tonight.”

He blinked. “You sure?” You reached out and pulled his arm around you.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only if I get the real thing. Not the plushie version.”

Yangyang smiled so gently it made your chest ache.

“Deal.”

That night, you didn’t need the bear.

The real one held you tighter than any stuffed animal ever could. And this time, when you fell asleep, he was still there in the morning.

[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 012 clubbing incident

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[onlyforyoukook]

I just finished reading "only when no one's watching" and my god I need a continuation with Yunho crawling JAJA.

YESSSSSSSSSS i was thinking of making a pt 2 of him being so down bad 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

[onlyforyoukook]

mhm mhm i’ve been waiting on this 😈

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 ꆂꋫ꓅ꑛ

➪ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑚𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

➪ 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐻𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑏𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦, ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑎𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑦𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝑆𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑙𝑑’𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟.

➪ 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 (𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑒), 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤-𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 (𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒)

➪ 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑘ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑚 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑑𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑐𝑠, 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑙, 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙, 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎, 𝑔𝑢𝑛 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠, 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡

⚠️ 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑖 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖🔞🔞🔞

|| 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤 || 𝑡𝑤𝑜 ||

The morning after what happened You didn’t even see half the people who worked here, but the place was always spotless. Dinners appeared and disappeared without noise. Laundry folded itself. You once left a glass of water in the hallway just to see what would happen.

It was gone five minutes later. Perfectly polished. Efficient. Like everything else Seonghwa controlled. But today, the air felt different. Quieter, Slower, Tense. Because he was here. Bruises and Silence. Seonghwa was still recovering.

You caught glimpses walking past the dining room, passing him in the halls, hearing his voice clipped and distant while talking to one of his men. The bandage on his ribs peeked through his shirt when he moved too fast.

You didn’t talk to him. You didn’t have to. His presence filled every corner of the house even when he was silent. You noticed the staff watching you now. Not with judgment. With… caution. Like they didn’t know what to make of you.

One older woman, maybe a housekeeper, smiled gently when you passed her on the stairs. “Would you like anything sent to your room, madam?” You blinked. “No. I’m fine.” “Just ring if you need anything.” She says voice laced with gentleness. There was a button in your room you’d never pressed before. You wondered how many people would come if you did.

He ate in the dining room. You didn’t. You stayed upstairs, pacing, Trying to read, Trying to breathe. A tray of food appeared on the small table near the balcony. Still warm. “He said you wouldn’t come down,” a quiet voice said behind you. You turned. One of the younger guards. Not intimidating. Not threatening. Just… delivering a message. “He said to tell you that you’re not a prisoner.” You didn’t respond.

When darkness had hit the sky you tried to sleep in your room. But the silence pressed too hard against your chest. The sheets felt cold, like no one belonged in them. Your mind wouldn’t stop repeating the last few days: the attack, the knife, the blood.

And for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking of him hunched at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into his bandaged ribs, refusing to flinch. You got up. Went down the hall to the room of a person you never thought you’d go to. You didn’t knock just walked in unannounced.

Seonghwa was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed in a plain black T-shirt, staring out the window like he could see something beyond the garden. He turned slightly when he heard the door. But he didn’t speak. You stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say. Why you were even here.

And then finally“I can’t sleep,” you said quietly. He didn’t tease you, Didn’t smirk. He just pulled the blanket back without a word. You slipped into the bed. No Words. He didn’t touch you, You didn’t reach for him.

You just lay there, on the edge, eyes staring at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing. After a while, his voice broke the silence. “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m near.” “That’s the problem,” you whispered.

Still, when he turned over slow, careful of his injury and pulled the blanket over both of you… You didn’t pull away. When his hand settled near yours, not touching just there you didn’t move. You stayed like that. Not lovers, Not enemies. Just two people bound by something neither of you fully understood. And for once, it was enough.

The moonlight painted the room in silver still not asleep. You lay in bed beside Seonghwa, facing the ceiling, every breath measured. He was asleep now or pretending well enough.

The warmth of him next to you was undeniable. So was the fact that you weren’t shaking anymore. But comfort didn’t mean safety. And safety didn’t mean freedom.

You lifted your hand slightly, letting the moonlight catch on the silver band around your finger. It was thin. Elegant. The kind of thing that would look like love to someone else. But you knew better. You didn’t know how it worked. What it triggered, what it meant in full but you knew Seonghwa had given it to you not out of affection.

It was a symbol and Not of marriage Of ownership. You never asked what would happen if you took it off. Part of you didn’t want to know. The other part wanted to tear it off and throw it across the room. You didn’t move.

As you tried closing your eyes you remembered how You used to wake up late. How You used to make coffee half asleep and complain about your brother hogging the bathroom. How You used to sit on cracked apartment floors with Minjae, sharing ramen and watching trash TV, arguing about who should do laundry.

You used to work. Used to take the bus. Used to go grocery shopping. And Used to laugh at stupid memes on your phone with no one watching your every breath. You used to be angry at your brother for being irresponsible. Now you were angry at him for selling you. And somehow, despite all that you missed him. Even if you hated him.

This house was so quiet. The sheets here were silk. The hallways too wide. The staff too silent. Every comfort in this place reminded you didn’t earn it. You didn’t want it. You weren’t meant to be here.

But you also knew something terrifying. If you left now if Seonghwa let you walk out You wouldn’t know how to survive anymore. You hated that realization more than the ring.

You turned your head slightly. He slept on his side, back half to you, dark hair falling across his cheek. Calm, Normal. The same man who crushed a man’s throat days ago without blinking.

Who looked you in the eyes the day you were dragged here and said, “This is how debt works.” But also the man who took a knife for you. Who held you too tightly when you flinched in your sleep. Who never touched you without permission even though he easily could. You didn’t know what he was. You weren’t sure what you were becoming either.

Morning Would Come And when it did, you’d get up. Pretend again. Eat food brought by strangers. Listen for his voice echoing down the hall. And keep wearing the ring For now.

It was little light when you woke. That kind of dead morning stillness where not even the staff moved. The hallway lights were dim. Somewhere in the distance, the heater hummed. You slipped out of bed quietly. Seonghwa didn’t stir.

As you headed into the kitchen you didn’t turn on the lights. The air in the kitchen was colder than you expected. Sharp. Like it knew what you were planning.

You moved without thinking no shoes, barely breathing fingers skimming the counter until you found it. The knife Small, Clean, Sharp enough. Your hands didn’t shake.

You turned and walked back through the silent house like a ghost in silk. He was still sleeping. One arm under the pillow. One leg kicked lazily off the side of the bed. You stood there with the knife clenched in your hand. You could do it.

A quick stab. Maybe the throat. Maybe the ribs. You weren’t trained but rage didn’t need precision. He stole your freedom. He took your future. He made you sleep beside him like this life was normal. So why couldn’t you move? Why did your arm go numb instead?

Why were your eyes burning with tears you refused to let fall? You didn’t have anyone to run to, No family, No brother worth trusting. No friend who wouldn’t die just for opening their door. If you escaped now, they’d chase you. Track you. Kill whoever tried to help you. Even if you lived… it wouldn’t be freedom. Just fear on a longer leash.

The knife dropped from your hand with a small clink against the marble floor. Your knees hit the rug beside his side of the bed, your breath catching like your lungs refused to keep pretending. You just knelt there Defeated. “Took you long enough,” he said, voice low and casual, eyes still shut. “Typical amateur.” Your whole body tensed. But he didn’t move with violence. He didn’t shout. Didn’t strike.

He sat up, barefoot and slow, pushing the covers off like this was routine. Then he reached down not to grab you, not to hurt you but to take your arm gently and lift you to your feet. You looked at him, blank “Why—” “Because I’m not afraid of you,” he muttered.

He laid you back down on the bed like you weighed nothing tucking the blanket around you, like you hadn’t just tried to kill him. Then he bent down, picked up the knife, and walked toward the door. You watched his silhouette in the faint light as he stepped into the hall.

“…Sorry,” you whispered he didn’t answer. But he came back Without the knife. Without a word. And laid back down next to you like nothing had happened. No chains, No threats. Just warmth And silence.

You woke up tangled in silk sheets and disgust. The remembering of what happened early Morning clung to your chest like a bruise. You didn’t cry. You didn’t apologize again. But the moment you opened your eyes and saw him buttoning his cuffs in front of the mirror, it all came rushing back.

“Where are you going?” you asked. Seonghwa didn’t even glance at you. “Back to the business.”he says “Great. Have fun.”you say He turned slightly. “You’re coming with me.” You sat up. “Like hell I am.”

He was already reaching for the call bell mounted into the wall. Pressed the button. Spoke into the receiver calmly.“Get her dressed. Something appropriate for board-level engagement.” “Seonghwa—” “Now.” He interrupts

You tried to slam the bathroom door but one of the maids blocked it with her foot like she was used to it.

They dressed you in silence. Buttoned you into a formal fitted blazer and slacks, styled your hair with such cold efficiency you almost felt sorry for them. You glared at yourself in the mirror. “Business wife chic,” you muttered“Love that for me.”

The silence in the car was thick. Seonghwa sat beside you, flipping through his phone. Two guards were in the front. The driver looked straight ahead like he was praying for the earth to swallow the vehicle whole.

You stared out the window, your fingers drumming against the leather armrest. Until you weren’t drumming You were… flipping him off unintentionally.

Your middle finger just kind of… rested there. Calm. Subtle. And undeniably disrespectful. He didn’t miss it. “Ya,” he said suddenly, voice sharp. “Why are you shooting a bird at your husband?” You blinked “What?” He gestured to your hand. “The finger. That one. You think I’m stupid?” He says “Maybe.” He turned toward you, jaw clenching. “Do you think this is a game?”

“No. But if it was, I’d be losing. Trapped, gaslit, and accessorized like your pet project—” “Watch your mouth.” He says warning you “Or what?” you snapped. “You’ll do something worse than marrying me after kidnapping me over my brother’s debt?” The car got quieter. The driver looked like he wanted to crawl out the window.

Seonghwa leaned in “You tried to stab me. At four in the morning. And you’re mad at me?” “Yes, because this whole thing is your fault.” You thinking nothing was wrong about what you did “It’s your brother’s fault.”seonghwa says coldly “And yours for following through like a damn psycho—” you say “Say that again.” he dared you “Psycho.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t explode, but his nostrils flared, and the air shifted hard. You didn’t back down. The car pulled up to the corporate building, sleek and massive, glass windows reflecting your bitterness. The moment you stepped out, the energy changed. Employees on the front steps bowed deeply. They glanced at you. Then away Fast. No one asked questions. No one dared.

You and Seonghwa walked side by side not touching, not speaking, radiating unspoken fury like twin storms in designer clothing. The receptionist opened the executive elevator without a word. You saw them all watching. They know something’s wrong, you thought Good.

The meeting started icy. Something about logistics. Supply chain breaches. A gap in contract language that could cost millions. Executives mumbled nervously. A manager fumbled a file. A team leader stuttered. You sat beside Seonghwa, arms crossed, resisting the urge to throw your shoe.

Until “That’s a clause mistake,” you said flatly. “The second contract overrides the first because it was signed in Seoul jurisdiction, not Busan.” Everyone went silent. One of the directors blinked. “That’s… actually true.”

Seonghwa turned to you slowly not surprised. Just… watching. You kept going. “You need to adjust the phrasing in your next vendor draft. And probably get a legal double-check on the new shipment schedules.” Murmurs. Agreement. Someone scribbled notes. Seonghwa’s hand rested on the table slow, deliberate. He didn’t say thank you he didn’t need to. You’d proven you weren’t just a ring on his finger. You were useful. And that… was worse.

It started fine. You sat quietly on the couch in Seonghwa’s office, watching the clock, checking your nails, trying not to die of boredom. Ten minutes passed. Then thirty. By the one-hour mark, you slumped backward with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so bored I could scream,” you said, voice full of boredom “Don’t,” Seonghwa replied without even looking up from his laptop. So you stood and started wandering. You paced across the room, fingers trailing over bookshelves and gold framed degrees. Opened a cabinet. Closed it. Reopened it. Tapped the glass.

“What’s this button do?” you asked with a grin. “Don’t touch that,” he said, not even glancing up. “What about this drawer?” you continued, already pulling it open. “Put that down, YN,” he muttered, clearly starting to regret his life choices. You moved toward his desk like a cat circling prey. He still didn’t stop you. So you pulled open the pen drawer and started rearranging his perfectly lined up pens just to watch his eye twitch. “Why do you even have four pens the same exact color?” you asked. “Because they’re expensive,” he replied flatly. “You’re expensive,” you shot back. He exhaled through his teeth but didn’t respond. You flopped into the seat across from him, legs tucked underneath you like it was your office now. “I’m hungry,” you said, pouting like it was the most urgent problem on Earth.

“You’re always hungry,” he replied, monotone and annoyed. You blinked, staring at him in disbelief “You can’t say that,” you said, offended. “It’s true,” he said, finally looking at you with the laziest smirk. “Still rude,” you huffed.“There’s a vending machine near the end of the hall,” he said, already pulling out his wallet like this was routine. “Take a guard. Don’t disappear. Get something light we’re having dinner with the board tonight.” He handed you exactly enough for 2 snacks.

You stared at the 8 dollars in your hand like they were a personal insult. “This is child allowance money,” you deadpanned. “And you’re acting like a child,” he said, already turning back to his laptop. “You’re acting like a dictator with no fashion sense,” you muttered. “You’re wearing my money,” he shot back, not missing a beat. You gasped dramatically “I hope you choke on your overpriced tie,” you snapped. He waved you off, eyes still on the screen. “Go. Before I find something for you to do that involves spreadsheets,” he said lazily. You didn’t go to the vending machine. Why would you, when the building had a full food court on the mezzanine floor and your favorite bakery had a branch there?

You ordered two things. Then three. Then added two more just because they smelled too good to ignore. Your assigned bodyguard followed you with the patience of a monk, until a cluster of voices nearby made you freeze. Three girls and two guys. Young, Corporate, Loud, Cruel. “Is that her? The girl who tried to stab him?” “She doesn’t look dangerous. Just bratty.” “I heard he bought her. Like, literal auction-style.” “Would explain why she’s dressed like someone’s doll.” Your hands clenched the paper bag tightly. Your jaw set. The guard stepped beside you. “Don’t. They’re not important,” he said softly. “And they wouldn’t say a word if he were standing next to you.” You didn’t answer. You just turned and walked away head high, heels sharp.

You kicked the door open with your foot because your hands were full, and Seonghwa looked up from his desk, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to bring back a whole shop,” he said, raising an eyebrow. You dumped the bags on his desk with dramatic flair. “A vending machine doesn’t sell taste,” you said, already digging into your first pastry. “You weren’t given permission to buy from the food court,” he said with that infuriating calmness. “I gave myself permission,” you shot back. You pulled out a cheese roll and shoved one toward him.“Eat this,” you said, tossing it to his desk. “No thank you,” he replied, brushing it aside. “I said eat it,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I said no,” he snapped. “Seonghwa.” You lowered your voice. Calm, Firm, Lethal. He finally met your eyes “Take. The. Snack,” you said slowly. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered. “You’re starving,” you said, tilting your head like it was obvious. He rolled his eyes, snatched the pastry, and bit into it like it insulted his ancestors. A beat passed he kept chewing. “Good, right?” you said with a smug little smile. “It’s fine,” he grumbled “Liar,” you said, smiling wider. He didn’t reply but he didn’t stop eating either.

The car ride to the board meeting dinner was thankfully quiet this time probably because you were both emotionally exhausted from round two of whatever this relationship was. The corporate event was sleek and high-profile glass walls, black ties, champagne trays, and music humming like tension. Employees smiled and bowed as the two of you entered. No one said anything about the look on your face. Or his they all knew better. Seonghwa led you toward the private lounge where drinks were already being passed out. You accepted a glass of champagne, sipping slowly as your eyes scanned the crowd.

“This is so fake,” you murmured to him without looking. “That’s business,” he replied. “So everyone here is lying to your face?” “No,” he said with a faint smirk. “Some of them lie behind my back.” You raised your glass to him sarcastically “Cheers to power.” “Cheers to you behaving,” he said. “No promises,” you replied, sipping again. His eyes narrowed just slightly, but you turned away before he could speak again the taste of champagne and control sharp on your tongue.

The dinner was winding down. Most of the executives had left, but you stayed seated beside Seonghwa as he made small talk with a few trusted board members. You were nibbling on dessert, not paying much attention… until he arrived. Wooyoung loud, smiling, and already halfway tipsy. “There he is!” Wooyoung shouted across the room as he approached, arms wide. “My favorite cold-blooded bastard.” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.” “I was bleeding out money in Tokyo, sue me,” Wooyoung said, throwing himself into the seat across from you two. “But I heard you got stabbed. Stabbed, bro. You didn’t even wait for me to say congratulations on not dying.” “You can say it now,” Seonghwa replied dryly. “With alcohol,” Wooyoung grinned. “Come on, one shot.”“No.” “Two.” “Still no.” “Three.” “Wooyoung.” “Ten.” Seonghwa sighed. “You’re exhausting.” “You’re sober. That’s the problem.”

Eventually, Seonghwa gave in. You watched in silent amusement as they poured each other soju like it was water. First glass. Second. Fifth. Voices getting louder. Faces turning a bright, flushed red. Seonghwa’s blazer was off. His tie loosened. His hair a mess. You sat there casually eating tteokbokki, watching them slowly unravel like grown children at a sleepover. “What’s your type again?” Wooyoung asked, already slurring slightly. “I always forget.” “We’ve had this talk,” Seonghwa muttered. “You always dodge the question, you tight lipped pretty fuck,” Wooyoung said. “C’mon. Humor me.” “You first,” Seonghwa said, waving a finger. Wooyoung leaned back dramatically. “Tight skirts. Sharp tongues. Anyone who can kill me with their heels,” he grinned. “I want a woman who’d slap me for blinking too loud. You know? Keeps me humble.”

You choked on your food trying not to laugh. Seonghwa shook his head. “That sounds exhausting.” “You’re one to talk,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’re literally married to a woman who bit a guard and tried to stab you from what the hell you’re telling me.” “It wasn’t a real stab,” Seonghwa muttered. “Bro.” Wooyoung blinked at him. Then leaned in. “You’re so love-whipped. Like actually whipped. I get it now. That’s why you didn’t kill her.” “That’s not why,” Seonghwa said quickly, ears turning red. “I bet you didn’t even get mad when she flipped you off earlier. You LIKE it.” “Shut up,” Seonghwa mumbled. “You’re in love with her, dude,” Wooyoung said loudly. “You’re straight up obsessed. You look at her like she hung the stars.” “I don’t,” Seonghwa whined, face fully flushed now. “Stop.”

“You do,” Wooyoung laughed. “You just haven’t realized it. You’re a simp in denial.” “Shut UP,” Seonghwa said again, now laughing despite himself. “You’re gonna get punched.” “I’ll take it,” Wooyoung said, raising his glass. “To men who pretend they’re cold hearted, but melt for women who treat them right.” Somehow, Wooyoung stood Kind of. He stumbled. Wobbled. Then shouted, “Time for me to go before I start confessing my sins to the wine rack!” His guards rushed to support him, one grabbing his jacket, the other his arm. “Bye Seonghwaaaaa! Bye stabby wife!” he shouted across the room as they dragged him out. You buried your face in your hand “He’s crazy” you muttered.

Seonghwa barely made it out of the lounge. He staggered, leaning on you half the way like his limbs forgot how to work. “You walk like a cartoon giraffe,” you said. “Don’t bully me,” he slurred. “I’ll bully my husband if I want to,” you snapped. “You shouldn’t say that to your lovely, respectable, extremely handsome husband.” he said with a hiccup. “It’s disrespectful.” “You’re literally drooling.”you say disgusted “You’re not a nice wife.” “You’re not a sober man.” He pouted. “Mean.” You tried to push him toward the car, but he flopped against you, laying his head on your shoulder with a deep sigh. “I like it here,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Oh my god,” you groaned. “Can someone help me?!” Two guards rushed over, and it still took all three of you to get him into the car.

By the time you reached the estate, Seonghwa was still out cold barely able to lift his own head. But somehow, he walked kinda into the big house without falling face first. He started undressing by the time you reached the stairs. Shoes gone. Blazer dropped on the third step. Shirt slung over the bannister. He staggered into his bedroom, muttering nonsense, and collapsed onto the bed face first. Almost Free of this night. You turned to walk out but a hand shot out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you straight down into the bed. “Seonghwa—” you hissed. “Let go.” He didn’t respond.

Just held you in a firm, drunken bear hug, your face squished against his chest. “You bastard—” “Let—go—of—me—” He didn’t move, Didn’t flinch, Didn’t even snore. He was dead weight but comfortably warm. And trapped you like a weighted blanket you never asked for. You sighed, body giving up as the tension bled out. Then you froze. Because something was… poking you. And what it was a boner. You slowly tilted your head “…No,” you whispered. “Absolutely not.” But Seonghwa didn’t answer. He just held you tighter.

©𝙺𝙿𝙾𝙿𝙲𝙰𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙴

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hwa-stars @babigriin @annispamz @vtyb23 @lovelylavenderxx

[onlyforyoukook]

Just the way you are | j.wy

paring: wooyoung x fem¡reader

wc: 400

genre: drabble, fluff, bit of angst, non idol au.

a/n: cleaning out my drafts hope you enjoy the angst 😭

synopsis: you think wooyoung is too good for you, that you don’t deserve him, but he reassures you otherwise.

You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands. Your heart feels heavy, thoughts swirling in your head like a storm you can’t escape.

Wooyoung is in the bathroom, humming softly as he gets ready for bed. He’s always like this carefree, warm, full of light. And you?

You don’t know what he sees in you.

He could have anyone. Someone prettier, funnier, more confident. Someone who doesn’t overthink every little thing, who doesn’t feel like she’s always one step behind.

You don’t deserve him.

The thought settles deep in your chest, making it harder

to breathe.

“Why do you look so sad?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks through the quiet.

You blink, looking up to see him standing in front of you. His hair is damp, his face soft with concern.

“I’m not,” you lie.

He kneels down, resting his hands on your knees. “Liar.”

You let out a weak laugh, but it fades quickly.

Wooyoung tilts his head, studying you. “Talk to me, baby.” His voice is gentle, patient.

You hesitate. You don’t want to ruin the moment, but the words slip out before you can stop them.

“I don’t understand why you’re with me.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifts. His brows furrow, his lips part slightly like he can’t believe what he just heard. “What?”

You swallow hard. “You could have someone better.”

He stares at you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Better? What does that even mean?”

You look away. “I just… I feel like you deserve more than me.”

Wooyoung exhales, then gently cups your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

You blink. “What”

“You think I don’t know how lucky I am to have you?” He leans in closer. “You think I don’t wake up every day and thank the universe for you?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Wooyoung’s thumb strokes your cheek. “You’re not perfect. But neither am I. And I don’t want perfect, I want you.”

Your eyes sting, emotions bubbling up too fast to control.

He presses his forehead to yours. “Stop thinking you’re not enough for me. You are.”

His words sink in, warmth spreading through your chest.

Wooyoung doesn’t just tell you he shows you.

He kisses your hands when you doubt yourself. He holds you tighter when you try to pull away. He reminds you, again and again, that you are loved.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

[onlyforyoukook]

Only when no one’s watching

₊ paring: ceo¡yunho x fem¡reader

₊ synopsis: yn starts working at a new company and ends up catching feelings for her CEO, Yunho. he’s rich, powerful, and seems perfect but what she doesn’t know is he secretly has a wife. they get close, and a jealous co-worker finds out and tells everyone. now she has to figure out if being with him is even worth it anymore.

wc: 3k

a/n: i’ve been holding this off for months, hope you enjoy ;)

₊ warnings: one shot!smut, infidelity, emotional, angst, manipulation,power imbalance. 18+ mdni.

You didn’t mean to stay late. But then again, you never really left when you were supposed to. The office was dark except for the soft golden light coming from behind Yunho’s glass door. His jacket was off. His sleeves were rolled. And when he looked up from his desk, the silence between you cracked wide open.

“You’re still here?” he asked, voice low and smooth like it always was after hours.

You shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Had a few reports to finish. You?”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting down your figure before they met yours again. “Couldn’t focus.”

Your heart ticked a little faster. Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was how his eyes lingered too long like they always did when no one else was watching.

You stepped inside without thinking, the door clicking shut behind you. He didn’t look away.

Didn’t even pretend to.

“You know,” he said, standing now, “You’re the only one who ever makes this office feel less cold.”

You blinked, but your body already knew what was happening. You could feel it in your legs. In your chest. In your throat. He stepped closer.

“Is that why you keep me here so late?” you joked, trying to deflect, your voice barely holding.

But his gaze didn’t waver.

“No,” he murmured. “That’s not why.”

And just like that he was in front of you.

Just there. Breath close. Eyes locked. The space between you thick enough to burn.

“If I touch you right now,” he said, low and rough, “you won’t leave this office the same.”

Your back brushed the edge of his desk. And still, neither of you moved. You should’ve walked out.

But your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt instead.

He leaned in. “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

The air crackles with tension as Yunho's words hang between you. Your fingers tighten on your skirt, betraying your internal struggle. His dark eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of desire and challenge. The desk presses against your lower back as he moves closer, his breath hot against your skin. The office feels smaller, more intimate with just the two of you. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the floor, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

He reaches out, his hand hovering just inches from your waist. The question lingers in the air, heavy and charged.

Yunho's hand finally makes contact, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist through the fabric of your blouse. The touch sends shivers down your spine. He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive whisper.

“You're not leaving, are you? You want this as much as I do.”

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. The intensity in his gaze makes your heart race even faster. You swallow hard, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

“I... I shouldn't,” you manage to whisper, though your voice lacks conviction. “This is so wrong...”

Your eyes flutter closed as Yunho's thumb strokes your cheek gently, his touch tender.

A small whimper escapes your lips as you give in to the overwhelming desire. Your hands move from your skirt to grip Yunho's shoulders, pulling him closer. The professional boundaries you've maintained for so long crumble as you press yourself against him, your body molding to his.

“Please,” you breathe out, your voice barely audible. “Just... just don't stop.”

Yunho's hand slides further up your waist, slipping under your skirt. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your inner thigh, making you tremble with anticipation. He moves his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as his fingers inch closer to your core.

“You're so wet for me already,”he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “I can feel it through your panties.”

His fingers finally reach their destination, gently stroking over the damp fabric of your panties. He lets out a low growl of satisfaction at how wet you are for him. Yunho's other hand moves to your hip, holding you steady as he continues his teasing touches.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he commands softly, his fingers pressing more firmly against your clit through the thin barrier of fabric. Your voice comes out as a desperate m--- as you try to form words.

“I want... I want you to touch me properly,” you gasp out. “Please, Yunho... I need more.”

Yunho smirks against your neck, clearly enjoying how needy you've become for him. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, sliding them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He steps back slightly, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in the sight of you exposed before him.

“Spread your legs for me, princess,” he instructs firmly. “Show me how badly you want this.”

You comply immediately, spreading your legs wider for him. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal as you stand there, vulnerable and exposed in his office. Yunho steps back between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. He slides one finger through your folds, groaning at how wet and ready you are.

“So eager,” he murmurs, circling your clit with the pad of his finger. “So desperate for my touch.”

You bite your lip to stifle a mmm, your hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.

“Yunho... oh god... don't tease me,” you plead, your voice shaking with need. “I can't take it anymore.”

Yunho grins at your desperate plea, bringing you over to his desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. Without warning, he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping hungrily at your clit. He alternates between slow, deliberate strokes and fast, teasing flicks. His hands grip your ass tightly, holding you in place as he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for air.

Yunho pulls back slightly, his face glistening with your juices. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with satisfied eyes.

“Tonight is all about you, princess,” he says huskily. “I want to hear you scream my name until your voice is hoarse.”

He stands up, gently helping you off the desk. Your legs are shaky from the multiple orgasms, and he supports you with a strong arm around your waist.

Yunho guides you to his chair, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. He kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hands roam over your body possessively, one sliding up to cup your boobs through your blouse.

“I've wanted to do this for so long,” he confesses between kisses. “You have no idea how many nights I've dreamed about you like this.” He notices a text from his wife, signaling that it’s time for him to head home.

Yunho reluctantly releases you from his embrace, though his eyes are still burning with desire.

“I'll drive you home,” he says firmly, already reaching for his keys. “And I expect to see you back here tomorrow morning for our meeting. Maybe a little earlier than usual.”

He helps you gather your clothes, his touch lingering on your skin as he hands them to you.

As you dress, Yunho watches you intently, his gaze never leaving your body. He fixes his own appearance, running a hand through his messy hair. Once you're both presentable, he leads you out of the office and to his car. The drive to your place is filled with charged silence, both of you lost in your thoughts about what just happened.

His hand grips the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You watch the city lights blur past through the window, trying to slow your racing mind. Your thighs are still sensitive. Your lips still swollen. And you can still taste the way he said your name. He hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the car.

Not because he regrets it you can feel it. It’s something else. He’s thinking. Hard. When he finally pulls up in front of your place, the engine hums for a few seconds before he shuts it off. The silence between you is loud. You reach for the door handle, unsure if you should say something, unsure if he’ll stop you.

He does.

“Wait,” Yunho says quietly, his voice low like it was back in his office. But this time, it’s not desire—it’s something heavier. More careful.

You turn back to him, your heart skipping.

He looks at you like he wants to say something real. Like he’s standing at the edge of a truth and trying to decide whether to push you or protect you from it.

“I shouldn’t have…” he starts, then stops. “But I don’t regret it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching him carefully.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then leans his head back against the seat.

“I just need you to know… it’s not just physical. With you. It’s not.”

Your chest tightens. You want to ask what that means, but you’re afraid of the answer. Afraid of what comes next. So instead, you nod softly and say, “I know.”

He nods, too. Then adds, almost in a whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next morning, you’re outside his office ten minutes early just like he asked. You can still feel last night on your skin. Still hear the way he whispered your name against your throat. But now, standing here under the harsh white office lights in your blazer and heels, it all feels like a dream you’re not supposed to admit you had.

You knock once.

“Come in,” Yunho says from inside, voice steady. When you step in, he’s already waiting by his desk no tie today, just that black button up that hugs his shoulders too well, sleeves rolled again. His eyes meet yours, and for a second, the whole office around you disappears.

“You’re early,” he says quietly, lips twitching at the corner.

“You told me to be.”

He hums and gestures for you to come closer. “I did.” You walk toward him, careful not to let your expression give too much away. But he sees it anyway. He always does. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you.

“I didn’t sleep much,” he admits, breaking the silence. “Kept thinking about you.”

Your breath hitches.

“Yunho—”

“I don’t want you to think that what happened last night was just… a moment.”

Your heart stirs, unsure whether to race or shut down.

“It wasn’t,” you say softly.

A small smile flickers across his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s tension under his skin, something tight—like he’s fighting with himself about something he’s not ready to say. Before you can ask, there’s a knock. His expression hardens instantly. His voice drops into the smooth, distant tone you recognize from every boardroom meeting.

“Come in.”

One of the interns pokes her head in. “They’re ready for the meeting downstairs, Mr. Jung.”

He nods. “We’ll be right there.”

She leaves. He turns back to you.

“We’ll talk later,” he says, but his eyes are saying I want to touch you again. I want to keep you in here a little longer. I want this to be ours. You nod and straighten your skirt. He doesn’t touch you this time.

But as you both walk toward the elevator side by side, his pinky brushes yours just once and it’s somehow louder than anything he could’ve said out loud.

The conference room is full, but it goes quiet when Yunho steps in. He owns the room without trying. Calm, confident, unreadable. You follow behind him, your heels clicking softly on the polished floor, and slide into your seat near the middle close enough to see him, but not close enough to make it obvious.

But someone’s already looking. Her. Minji. The girl from PR who always seems to find an excuse to linger when Yunho’s around. Today, her lips are redder than usual, her blouse just a little tighter, and her eyes? Locked on you. You don’t flinch. You look straight ahead, like she’s not even there.

Yunho clears his throat. “Let’s begin.”

As the meeting gets underway, you take notes, nod where needed, and try not to let your mind wander. But every so often, your eyes flicker up and catch him already looking at you. It’s subtle. The kind of glance no one else would notice. But Minji notices. You can feel her eyes burn into you every time it happens.

Every time his gaze lingers a second too long.

Every time your lips twitch into the smallest smile that only he can read. And when the meeting ends, and everyone begins to file out, she doesn’t leave right away.

She walks right past you, then stops behind Yunho, pretending to adjust the strap on her tablet bag.

“Long night, Mr. Jung?” she says with a coy little smirk, voice just loud enough for you to hear. Yunho doesn’t even look up. “Busy morning. If that’s all, Minji.”

She fake laughs. “Of course.”

Then she turns to you her eyes doing one quick sweep of your hair, your neckline, your mouth and smiles sweetly.

“You’re glowing,” she says.

You blink. “Sorry?”

Minji leans in slightly. “Must’ve been a really good morning.”

And then she walks off, hips swaying a little more than usual. Your stomach twists, but you don’t let it show. Not yet. Yunho comes up beside you, voice low. “Don’t let her get in your head.”

You exhale through your nose. “She’s already in it.”

He watches you for a second, jaw tight, then says, “I’ll handle it.” But something about his tone tells you he’s handled girls like Minji before. And not all of them kept quiet. You got a message, an anonymous one.

Just a few hours after the meeting, while you’re back at your desk finishing up edits Yunho personally handed to you (with that look again the one that says later), your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number

“Hope you’re enjoying your promotion. Wonder if his wife knows how hard you’ve been working.”

Your fingers freeze. Your heartbeat drops into your stomach.

Wife?

You stare at the screen for a second too long, blood rushing in your ears. You scroll back up. Read it again. No name. No photos. Just venom.

Before you can respond before you can think your office chat dings.

Minji 🐍

“Hey girlll 😘 u left this on the printer x”

[attached: your marked up draft with Yunho’s initials scribbled next to a smiley face]

The paper’s circled in red. Sloppily. Pettily. You stare at the screen, jaw clenched. She’s poking the bear. She knows. You don’t respond. You won’t give her the satisfaction. But you know this isn’t over.

This is her warning shot. Later that day, when you pass by the break room, you catch the whisper.

“She’s got some nerve she just got here.”

“He only ever gives her those projects now.”

“Girl, she’s not even that cute. She just knows how to smile at the right men.”

You don’t have to look to know who they’re talking about. You don’t even have to guess who fed them the story. But it’s what you hear next that really makes your blood run cold.

“She’s not even his type. He’s married, anyway. Everyone knows that.”

The mug in your hand slips slightly, clinks against the counter. No one notices. You walk out calmly. But your mind is already unraveling. Married? You think about the way he looked at you last night. The way he touched you like he meant it. The way he said it wasn’t just physical. You think about how he never talks about his personal life. About how his apartment is clean but barely lived in. About how he always drives to you. Never the other way around.

And suddenly, the silence between the sheets doesn’t feel so romantic anymore. It feels like it’s hiding something. You don’t call.

You don’t text.

You just show up.

You’re tired of wondering. Tired of hearing whispers in the breakroom and seeing Minji’s smug looks from across the office like she already knows something you don’t.

And you’re tired of giving Yunho space to lie to you with silence.

So you’re hereat his apartment. Not the fancy penthouse he sometimes takes you to, but the other address. The one you caught a glimpse of when he dropped his ID once and shoved it away too fast. You didn’t mean to remember it. But you did. You knock once. No answer.

You knock again. And that’s when the door opens. But it’s not Yunho. It’s her. A woman. Mid 20s. Pretty. Barefoot. Wearing one of his shirts.Your heart falls straight through your chest.

Her eyes meet yours and narrow, confused. “Can I help you?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because this is it. The truth. Ugly and quiet. You turn. But Yunho’s voice cuts through the hallway like a blade.

“YN.”

You freeze. He’s behind her. Shirtless. His expression shatters the second he sees you standing there.

“Don’t,” you say. Your voice breaks. “Don’t say anything.”

The girl turns to him, piecing it together way too fast. “Wait. This is who you’ve been texting?”

His face pales.

Your throat tightens. “So it’s true.”

You look him dead in the eye.

“I was your secret.”

He says your name again, softer this time—guilty. Like that’s enough. Like guilt changes anything. You take a step back. Then another.

“I hope she was worth lying to us both,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Because I’m done being someone you hide.” You leave before he can follow.

You don’t cry until you’re in the elevator, where no one can see you. And by the time you step outside into the cold night air, your tears have dried. Because you’re not the same girl who walked into his office. You’re not the same girl who thought his love was worth the silence. You’re the girl who walked away.

[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 011 again?

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[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 010 missed you

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[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 009 hi renjun

You hadn’t expected Renjun.

You’d come because Jisung had been persistent, texting you over and over about “just a little getaway,” promising “it’s chill, no drama, just me and nature.” But the moment you step through the front door of the cabin smelling of pinewood and something warm on the stove you see him.

Renjun.

Sitting on the worn leather couch like he belongs there, legs crossed, a mug in hand, same quiet stare, same unreadable face. But when his eyes meet yours, everything slows. Your breath catches before you can even stop it.

“Hey,” Jisung says behind you, voice soft but casual, like he didn’t just trick you into the biggest emotional ambush of the year. “I, uh… didn’t tell you he’d be here. Thought you’d leave if I did.”

You don’t answer. Can’t. Renjun hasn’t moved, but his eyes are glued to you. It’s like he’s checking to see if you’re real. You look at him really look and part of you wants to cry on the spot.

The silence stretches, awkward and heavy. Jisung clears his throat. “I’ll, um… go unpack. Y’all talk or stare each other down or… whatever.”

He disappears down the hallway.

You’re left standing in the living room like a ghost. You don’t know what to do. Run? Yell? Break down?

Renjun sets his mug down and stands up slowly.

“You look different,” he says. His voice is lower than you remember. Tired.

You let out a shaky breath. “You look the same.”

Another silence.

Finally, he says, “You disappeared.”

You nod. “I know.”

He swallows. His jaw tightens, just for a second. “Why?”

And that’s all it takes. One word. One question.

You sink down onto the nearest chair, your hands trembling in your lap. The tears hit your eyes before you can stop them, and when you look up at him again, it’s with everything you’ve been holding in for months.

“I was scared.”

Renjun doesn’t speak, but he sits across from you, elbows on his knees, watching you carefully.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. Or any of you. I couldn’t even tell myself at first,” you whisper. “I thought I could handle it on my own. I thought if I disappeared, it’d hurt less. For everyone.”

Renjun’s brows furrow. “Handle what?”

Your voice cracks. “The pregnancy. The baby. Everything.”

He stiffens. You see it the way his whole body reacts, like the words hit too hard, too fast.

“You were pregnant?” His voice is barely audible.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I was. And I didn’t know how to be… that. I didn’t know how to be pregnant and broken. I didn’t want you or Chenle or Jisung to see me like that.”

You wipe your cheeks but more tears fall. “I thought leaving would make it easier. But I was just… so alone.”

Renjun leans back, breathing deep like he’s trying to stay calm. You’ve never seen him like this so still, so fragile.

“yn…” he starts, but he stops himself. His throat bobs. “Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I did,” you whisper. “That’s the worst part.”

Renjun’s voice breaks the silence, hushed but full of quiet weight.

“So… there’s a baby?”

You nod, unable to lift your eyes.

He leans in, brows drawing together. “Yours?”

You pause then nod again, slower this time.

He swallows, sitting back, like your answer just sent a ripple through his chest. His lips part slightly, like he wants to ask more but doesn’t know how.

“Are they okay?”

You nod. “Healthy. Growing fast. They smile a lot, laugh when they sleep…” Your voice fades into a bittersweet breath. “Sometimes I just look at them and… I don’t even believe they’re real.”

Renjun’s voice softens even more. “What’s their name?”

You hesitate.

And then you say it, like releasing something sacred into the room.

“Ryun-Jae.”

Renjun whispers it to himself, like the name holds weight in his mouth.

“Ryun-Jae…” Renjun mutters quietly.

“That’s beautiful.”

Your lips twitch into a small, sad smile. “He’s beautiful.”

His eyes dart to yours. “He…?”

You nod.

And that’s when it hits him. His breath catches barely there, but you see it. The shift in his eyes. The way his jaw tenses for half a second before relaxing again. He stares at you like he’s seeing a version of you he never imagined.

“You had a son.”

You don’t say anything at first, just pull your phone from your sweater pocket with shaking hands. Your fingers tap through the gallery until you reach the folder that’s just his name: Ryun-Jae. You pick a photo you know the one.

It’s him on the couch, curled into a soft blanket, one tiny fist tucked under his chin. His eyes are open wide, lashes long, mouth parted in a dreamy kind of smile. His little curls are messy, a soft halo around his face.

You hold out the phone to Renjun.

He hesitates… then takes it carefully, like it might break in his hands.

He stares.

You see his shoulders slowly lower, like tension is leaving his body breath by breath. His mouth parts slightly in awe. And he doesn’t say anything can’t for a long moment.

“You’ve been keeping him from me this whole time?” he asks, eyes wide as he walks over and takes the phone from Renjun to look closer. “He’s like… ridiculously cute.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice small. “I just… I didn’t want to be anyone’s problem.”

Jisung shakes his head, still staring at the photo. “That’s not what this is, yn. This is you’re a mom. That’s not a problem, that’s power.”

Renjun still hasn’t looked away. He murmurs, like he’s trying to process it all, “His eyes look like yours. But his mouth… that smile…”

You nod, a little breathless. “That’s all his father.”

They both glance at you.

Renjun’s voice is cautious now. “You haven’t told him?”

You shake your head. “He doesn’t know. No one knows but you two and my friends.”

Silence settles again, heavier this time.

Renjun hands your phone back gently. “Can I see another one?”

You show him a video this time Ryun-Jae wobbling while holding onto the edge of a coffee table, babbling to himself, then clapping when he manages to stay up.

Renjun chuckles softly under his breath. His eyes look glassy.

Jisung nudges him. “I’ve literally never seen you like this.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. He just stares at the screen like it’s showing him something he never realized he needed.

“He’s lucky to have you,” he says quietly, finally turning his eyes to yours again. “And… we were stupid not to notice how much you were carrying.”

Your throat tightens.

“I’m still learning,” you whisper. “But Ryun-Jae made me stronger.”

“You always were,” Renjun says.

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[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 008 secret admirer

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[onlyforyoukook]

what love left behind

— 007 couple alert

a/n; sorry for the delay, also i scribbled the roach out bc they also freak me out...

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[onlyforyoukook]

I need him so bad 😍

hes so boyfriend material its unfair 😕😕

[onlyforyoukook]

Bound in gold

paring: mingi x fem¡reader

synopsis: y/n, born into a corrupt family’s wealth, grows up unaware of the truth. When her family loses everything, they push her to marry Mingi for financial gain. But knowing the truth now, y/n refuses and chooses to move away, but something brings her back.

wc: 4.5k

genre: one shot, yandere, angst, infidelity.

You had everything. Wealth, power, a life others could only dream of. But it was never your dream. it was theirs.

Born into a family of privilege, you grew up surrounded by luxury. Grand mansions, diamond jewelry, private jets nothing was out of reach. People spoke your father’s name with admiration, but behind closed doors, they whispered. You never knew why.

And then, there was Mingi.

He had always been there, like a constant in your life. You were both young when you met, two children playing in golden halls. Mingi was from a family just as rich as yours, but there was always something different about him. He never let the wealth define him the way others did.

More than that, he was gentle.

Gentler than your father’s firm grip on your shoulder.

Gentler than your mother’s sharp tongue when she reminded you who you were supposed to be. Mingi was the only one who ever made you feel like just you.

But there was a truth you didn’t know.

Mingi’s family used to be close with yours. Until your parents cut them off. Betrayed them in business, leaving them to struggle while yours thrived. His family wanted revenge, but when the time came, and they saw you a sweet, clueless little girl they couldn’t do it. Instead, they sent Mingi to be your friend. Not to hurt you. Not to use you.

But to save you.

And for years, he tried.

The night everything fell apart, you were in your father’s study, a place you had never truly belonged. Papers were scattered across the desk, numbers flashing on a laptop screen. The air was thick with tension.

“We lost everything,” your father said. His voice, always strong, now wavered. “Everything. We need to fix this.”

Your mother sat beside him, her nails digging into her silk dress. “There’s only one solution.”

Then they looked at you.

You already knew.

“You want me to marry Mingi.” Your voice was hollow.

Your mother straightened. “It’s not just about you. It’s about all of us. His family is wealthy more than we ever were. If you marry him, we can rebuild.”

You scoffed. “You think I can just use him like that?”

“Of course, you can.” Your father’s expression hardened. “You grew up learning how to survive, didn’t you? You think love is more important than survival?”

Love.

Did you love Mingi?

You weren’t sure. There was something there, something lingering in every glance, in every touch. But this wasn’t about love. This was about desperation.

And you refused to be part of it.

Mingi found you later that night, standing on the balcony of your family’s estate. The city stretched below, lights flickering like distant stars. You didn’t turn when he stepped beside you.

“You heard, didn’t you?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “What are you going to do?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the railing. “I’m leaving.”

Mingi tensed beside you. “Leaving?”

You turned to face him. “I can’t be part of this anymore. My whole life—everything I had—it wasn’t real. It was built on lies, and I let myself believe it because it was easier that way. But I know the truth now, and I can’t stay here.”

He searched your face. “And what about me?”

Your breath hitched.

“Mingi…”

“Don’t do this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” you said, voice breaking. “Because if I stay, I’ll never know who I am without them.”

Mingi’s jaw clenched. He had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

Finally, he exhaled, stepping closer. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, careful. Gentle.

“I would’ve married you, you know.”

Your chest ached. “I know.”

And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it. A world where you were free, but not alone. A world where you could love Mingi without the weight of expectation. But that world didn’t exist.

Not yet.

So you stepped back.

“I have to go.”

Mingi didn’t stop you.

Because even after everything, he was always gentle with you.

Years had passed since you left.

You spent them running—new cities, new names, new lives that never truly felt like yours. But no matter how far you went, the past followed. Shadows lingered in alleyways, whispers slipped through cracked doors, and faceless figures watched from the dark.

You had once been untouchable. Now, you were prey.

It was time to stop running.

So you came back.

⸻

The city was the same. Glass towers stretched into the sky, and the streets buzzed with people who never noticed you slipping back into their world. But there was one thing different.

Mingi.

He wasn’t yours anymore.

You found out from a passing conversation, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“He’s engaged?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your informant, a former housekeeper who always had a soft spot for you nodded. “To Leeyeon. She’s from a good family, well-mannered, beautiful. He loves her.” A pause. “But not like he loved you.”

Your heart clenched. “Does he know I’m back?”

“I don’t think so.”

Good. You weren’t ready.

Not yet.

Mingi was at a gala when he saw you again.

A glimpse. That’s all it was at first.

A figure in the crowd, a face he used to know, a ghost from his past. His breath hitched, his body stiffening as he followed the familiar curve of your jaw, the way your eyes scanned the room like you weren’t sure if you belonged here anymore.

Then your eyes met.

And just like that, time unraveled.

“Y/n.”

The name left his lips before he could stop it, his voice drowning in the music and chatter. His fiancée, Leeyeon, stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, but he barely noticed.

You took a step back.

Then another.

And then you were gone.

Days passed before he saw you again.

He found you where he always knew you’d be—standing on the balcony of your family’s old estate, staring at the city like it held the answers you’d spent years searching for.

“You came back.” His voice was rough, uneven.

You didn’t turn around. “I had to.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “Why now?”

You exhaled. “They were following me.”

Mingi stilled.

“They never forgot,” you continued. “The people my family ruined, the ones left in the dark while we lived in luxury. They waited. And when I ran, they chased.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You should’ve told me.”

Your hands curled into fists. And what would you have done, Mingi? Fixed it? You’re engaged. You have a life. You don’t owe me anything anymore.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

You finally turned, meeting his gaze. “It has to be.”

Leeyeon was pregnant.

Mingi found out weeks later, the news delivered over dinner.

“I’m pregnant,” she had whispered, her hand resting on her stomach.

He had frozen, the weight of the moment sinking into his bones.

This was good. This was supposed to be good.

But all he could think about was the way he still woke up calling your name.

You tried to stay away.

Mingi tried to move forward.

Neither of you succeeded.

Fate was cruel, throwing you together in fleeting moments—passing glances, lingering touches, unsaid words that screamed between you. Every time you got close, something pulled you apart.

Until the truth finally shattered.

Leeyeon had cheated on him.

And not just with anyone.

With San.

His best friend.

The betrayal burned deep, but nothing hurt more than the final blow—

The baby wasn’t his.

Mingi found you that night.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Because when he looked at you, his walls finally crumbled.

And when you looked at him, you saw home.

This time, when you stepped closer, nothing pulled you apart.

This time, when you reached for the lock—

It clicked into place.

Mingi still didn’t know.

He still didn’t know that the baby wasn’t his.

Leeyeon’s betrayal remained a secret, buried beneath soft kisses and whispered reassurances. She clung to him, played the part of the perfect fiancée, the devoted mother-to-be.

And Mingi?

He stayed.

For the baby.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s what he told everyone.

But at night, when the city was asleep—when the world was quiet and he was finally alone with his thoughts—he found himself somewhere else.

With you.

The first time it happened, you told yourself it was a mistake.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in his car that night, parked outside your apartment, the silence between you thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

“Mingi,” you had whispered, shaking your head. “This is wrong.”

But his lips found yours before you could stop him.

And just like that, you were his again.

It became a pattern.

Late nights. Stolen moments.

He’d come to you after Leeyeon fell asleep, slipping away with nothing but a quiet excuse and a guilty heart. And when he reached you, when his hands found your body and his lips traced the skin he used to know so well—he felt alive.

For the first time in years, he felt alive.

“You’re not staying,” you murmured one night, your fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

Mingi exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. “You know I can’t.”

You rolled onto your side, watching him. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. “You know why.”

“Because of the baby.”

Silence.

Then—

“You think I want this?” He turned to you, his voice lower now, rough. “You think I want to go back to her after this? After you?”

“Then don’t.”

His fingers curled into the sheets. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” You sat up, the sheets slipping from your body. “You don’t love her, Mingi. And I don’t know if you ever really did.”

Mingi didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Because deep down, he knew you were right.

Leeyeon noticed the shift.

The late nights. The distant stares. The way Mingi held her but never really touched her anymore.

She knew.

And yet, she didn’t say a word.

Because what would she even say?

She had her own secret, after all.

Mingi woke up in cold sweats sometimes, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

Leeyeon heard it every time.

And every time, she lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, hand resting over the baby growing in her stomach—

The baby that wasn’t his.

And she smiled.

For weeks, Mingi kept coming back to you.

It was never enough.

He’d leave Leeyeon’s bed, slip into yours, and swear to himself that it would be the last time. But then the next night came, and so did he knocking at your door, pressing you against the wall, whispering your name like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

And every time, you let him in.

Leeyeon never said a word.

She never questioned the late nights, the excuses, the way Mingi’s body was there but his mind was always somewhere else.

With you.

It should’ve made him uneasy. Should’ve made him suspicious.

But he was too caught up in you to notice.

Too caught up in the way you tasted, the way your body melted into his, the way he could lose himself in you and pretend, for just a little while—that he wasn’t living a lie.

Until the truth finally slapped him in the face.

He hadn’t meant to check her phone.

It was instinct, really—just a glance at the screen when it lit up beside her while she was in the shower.

And that’s when he saw it.

A text from San.

“Are you keeping the baby?”

Mingi froze.

The words blurred together, his brain struggling to piece them together in a way that made sense.

Are you keeping the baby?

Are you keeping the baby?

His stomach twisted.

His mouth went dry.

And then—

It clicked.

The hesitation.

The secrecy.

The way she never let him go to her doctor’s appointments. The way she never mentioned Y/n, never confronted him about the late nights, never asked where he’d been.

Because she didn’t care.

Because she had her own guilt weighing her down.

Because the baby—

Wasn’t his.

The next time he saw you, he wasn’t gentle.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t ask.

He just showed up at your door, grabbed you, kissed you so hard you stumbled back.

“Mingi—” you tried, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You,” he rasped, hands gripping your waist like you might disappear again. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath hitched. “What happened?”

Mingi swallowed. “Leeyeon… she—” His voice broke. “The baby isn’t mine.”

Silence.

Then you exhaled. “You know.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” you admitted softly. “But it wasn’t my place.”

Mingi closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I was so fucking stupid.”

You reached for him, and this time, he let you.

“I stayed,” he whispered, voice thick with something raw. “I stayed for a baby that isn’t even mine.”

“You wanted to do the right thing.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “And what about now? What’s the right thing now?”

Your fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face toward yours.

“This,” you murmured. “This is the right thing.”

And this time, when he kissed you—

He didn’t feel guilty at all.

Mingi didn’t go back to Leeyeon that night.

For the first time since the engagement, he didn’t drag himself home before the sun rose, slipping into bed like nothing was wrong. This time, he stayed with you.

Held you.

Breathed you in.

And when morning came, he knew what he had to do.

Leeyeon was waiting for him when he walked through the door.

She was sitting on the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes blank. The moment their gazes met, he saw it—the slight panic, the recognition. She knew.

“Who told you?” she asked quietly.

Mingi scoffed. “You just admitted it.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it. Instead, she straightened her spine, tilting her chin up. “How long have you known?”

“Since last night,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Saw a text from San on your phone.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “You checked my phone?”

“Don’t.” Mingi clenched his jaw. “Don’t act like I’m the problem here.”

Leeyeon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re no saint either, Mingi.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You cheated on me,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Plenty of times. With Y/n.”

Mingi stilled.

Leeyeon scoffed. “What? You thought I didn’t know? I may not have said anything, but I knew every time you disappeared in the middle of the night. Every time you came home smelling like her.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“At least I only did it once,” she continued, voice sharp now, slicing through the air like a blade. “And you want to talk about betrayal? You want to act like you’re the victim? Like what I did was so much worse than what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

Mingi took a step forward, fists clenched. “You lied about the baby.”

“You would’ve left if I told you the truth.”

“Of course, I would’ve left!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Because it’s not my fucking kid, Leeyeon! You were going to let me raise San’s child and never tell me.”

Leeyeon’s jaw tightened.

He laughed bitterly. “So don’t stand there and act like we’re the same. I may have cheated, but at least I wasn’t planning to build a whole damn life on a lie.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Leeyeon sighed, rubbing her temples. “So what now?”

Mingi stared at her, heart pounding.

“I’m done,” he said, voice steady. “We’re done.”

Leeyeon swallowed.

Mingi exhaled, stepping back. “And this time, I’m not coming back.”

He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Straight to you.

Mingi didn’t look back.

Not at the life he was leaving behind. Not at the woman who had lied to him. Not at the baby that was never his.

His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind a blur of anger, betrayal, and something else—something almost like relief.

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t forcing himself to stay.

He was choosing to leave.

And he was choosing you.

You opened the door before he could even knock.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t say a word.

You just held him.

And that was all he needed.

For the first time in weeks, Mingi stayed the night without guilt clawing at his chest.

There was no sneaking out. No lying. No pretending.

Just you, tangled in the sheets with him, your fingers tracing lazy circles against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“She admitted it,” he murmured.

You hummed softly. “She didn’t try to deny it?”

“No.” He sighed. “She threw it in my face. Said I had no right to be angry because I cheated on her too.”

Your fingers stilled.

Mingi turned his head, meeting your gaze. “She’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I did cheat. A lot. With you.”

You swallowed. “But it’s not the same.”

He nodded slowly. “No. It’s not.”

Because he never loved Leeyeon.

Not the way he loved you.

Not the way he always had.

And maybe that didn’t excuse what he did. Maybe it didn’t make him a better person.

But it was the truth.

And that was all he had now.

It should have been over.

Mingi had left her. He had chosen you.

But some things never ended cleanly.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t done yet.

Mingi should’ve known it wouldn’t end that easily.

He had walked away, slammed the door shut on the life he didn’t want. He had chosen you.

But some things don’t just stay buried.

Some things crawl back to the surface, uglier than before.

And Leeyeon wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

It started with the phone calls.

Mingi ignored them at first, let them go to voicemail.

Then came the texts.

Leeyeon: We need to talk.

Leeyeon: Mingi, answer me.

Leeyeon: You think you can just walk away from this?

Leeyeon: Fine. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s see if you ignore this.

The next message wasn’t from Leeyeon.

It was from San.

San: You and I need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, his blood turning ice cold.

San.

His best friend.

The man who had been sleeping with his fiancée behind his back.

And now, after weeks of silence, San was the one reaching out?

Mingi let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

No.

If San wanted to talk, he could come find him himself.

But San wasn’t the one who showed up first.

It was Leeyeon.

She pounded on your apartment door, loud enough to make you jolt in surprise.

Mingi was already out of bed, throwing on a shirt when you grabbed his arm. “Mingi, don’t—”

“I have to,” he muttered, jaw clenched.

You swallowed hard but let him go.

The second he opened the door, Leeyeon shoved past him, her face twisted in fury.

“You really thought you could just walk away?” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Mingi crossed his arms. “I did.”

Leeyeon let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. No apology? No guilt? Just moving on with her?” She shot a glare in your direction.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You cheated first.”

Leeyeon’s eyes narrowed. “And you think that makes you innocent? You knew he was engaged, and you still spread your legs every time he came running.”

Mingi’s body went rigid. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Leeyeon scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m supposed to be the villain here, right? Because I cheated. Because I lied. But you—” she jabbed a finger at Mingi’s chest, her voice shaking now “—you were never mine to begin with, were you?”

Mingi exhaled sharply. “Leeyeon—”

“You think I didn’t notice?” she cut him off. “You were in love with her the whole time. You were sleeping next to me, but you were dreaming about her.”

He didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

Leeyeon shook her head, laughing bitterly. “So tell me, Mingi. Was I just a placeholder? A convenience?”

Mingi met her gaze, unflinching. “You were a mistake.”

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she looked like she might cry.

But then her face hardened.

And that’s when she dropped the bomb.

“You want to know who’s really the mistake?” she said quietly, tilting her head. “San.”

Mingi frowned. “What?”

Leeyeon smirked. “He was the mistake. Sleeping with him? Getting pregnant with his baby?” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oops.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew? You knew this whole time that the baby wasn’t his?”

Leeyeon’s lips curled. “Of course I knew.” She glanced at Mingi. “And yet, you stayed. Like a good little fool.”

Mingi felt something snap inside him.

His fists clenched. His breath came hard and fast.

And then, before he could stop himself, he laughed.

Laughed.

Leeyeon’s smirk faltered.

“You really think you win, don’t you?” Mingi stepped closer, his voice eerily calm. “You really think you have the upper hand here?”

Leeyeon blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Mingi shook his head, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Let me tell you something, Leeyeon. You lost the second you thought you could play me.”

She scoffed. “And what? You’re gonna run off with her now?” She nodded toward you.

Mingi didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Leeyeon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Mingi leaned in, lowering his voice. “Enjoy your life with San. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he finds out the baby is his.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I will.”

And with that, he grabbed your hand—

And slammed the door in her face.

But this wasn’t over.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t the only one with unfinished business.

San was still out there.

And he was coming.

Mingi barely had time to breathe before his phone vibrated again.

Another text.

San: I’m outside. We need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, jaw clenching.

Leeyeon hadn’t wasted any time. She’d probably run straight to him the second she left, spinning the story however she wanted.

He turned to you, still gripping your hand. “Stay inside.”

You frowned. “Mingi—”

“I mean it.” His voice was firm. “I’ll handle this.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you nod.

Mingi exhaled, then turned and stepped outside.

San was leaning against his car, arms crossed, eyes dark.

“So,” he started, voice eerily calm. “You finally know.”

Mingi scoffed. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

San smirked. “I knew it was only a matter of time. Leeyeon’s not as smart as she thinks.”

Mingi’s fists clenched. “How long?”

San raised a brow. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my fiancée?” Mingi’s voice rose, barely restrained.

San didn’t even flinch. “Does it matter?”

Mingi took a step forward, his entire body tensed like a predator ready to strike. “It matters to me.”

San tilted his head. “Then let’s say… long enough.”

Mingi’s vision blurred with rage.

“You really thought you could get away with this?” he growled. “That I’d never find out?”

San sighed dramatically. “Mingi, come on. Don’t act like some heartbroken victim. We both know you were never really faithful.” He gestured vaguely. “You had her the whole time.”

Mingi’s chest tightened.

“That’s different,” he bit out.

San let out a low chuckle. “Is it?”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just took another step closer.

San’s smirk widened. “Are you gonna hit me, Mingi? Go ahead. Might make you feel better.”

Mingi was so close to snapping.

So close to breaking San’s stupid, smug face—

Then San leaned in and whispered, “What’s really funny is, I don’t even want her.”

Mingi stilled. “What?”

San sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Leeyeon. She was just convenient. But honestly?” He let out a short laugh. “I’m already over it.”

Mingi’s stomach twisted.

“You ruined my relationship,” he said slowly, voice low and dangerous.

San smirked. “Did I? Or did you do that all by yourself?”

That was it.

Mingi swung.

His fist connected with San’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

San recovered quickly, wiping his mouth, then laughed. “There it is.”

Mingi wasn’t done. He grabbed San by the collar, slamming him against his car.

San winced but didn’t resist. “Feel better?”

Mingi’s breathing was ragged. His pulse pounded in his ears.

But he didn’t hit him again.

Because San wasn’t worth it.

He let go, shoving him back.

San straightened, rolling his neck. “So what now?”

Mingi’s eyes darkened. “Now, you tell Leeyeon the truth.”

San raised a brow. “And if I don’t?”

Mingi smirked coldly. “Then I will.”

San studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

Mingi turned to leave.

But San’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Mingi.”

He paused.

San smirked. “Say hi to Y/n for me.”

Mingi didn’t look back.

But next time?

San wouldn’t be walking away so easily.

Mingi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His hands were still shaking, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

San was lucky. Lucky that Mingi had enough restraint to not break his face completely.

But this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He turned, striding back toward the apartment, but the moment he stepped inside, he found you standing in the hallway, arms crossed, worry evident in your eyes.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

Mingi exhaled sharply. “San’s a dead man walkin.”

You swallowed, stepping closer. “Did he—?”

“He admitted everything,” Mingi cut in, voice laced with frustration. “Didn’t even try to deny it. And Leeyeon—” He let out a bitter laugh. “She’s still trying to act like she can fix this.”

You hesitated, searching his face. “And you? What are you going to do?”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had spent weeks trying to figure out why Leeyeon had been acting so strangely, why she had barely let him be involved with the pregnancy. And now, it all made sense.

It wasn’t his child.

It never was.

“I’m done,” he finally said, his voice steadier than he expected. “With her. With this whole mess.”

You inhaled softly, as if bracing yourself for what was coming next. “So… what now?”

Mingi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for you, fingers gently trailing along your wrist before grasping your hand fully.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, squeezing lightly. “But the only thing I’m sure about is you.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, a small, genuine smile pulled at Mingi’s lips.

Mingi let out a small laugh. “At least now, we can finally move forward.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure?”

Mingi smirked, stepping closer until your bodies were just inches apart.

“Positive.”

And this time, when he leaned in, nothing stopped him.