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😇 Does your muse pretend to be innocent if they’ve done something wrong? (Mordred) 🎵 If they were going to torture someone, what music would they play while they did it? (Blaine) 🔭Do they have a fear of the unknown and things they can’t explain? (Patricia)
😇Does your muse pretend to be innocent if they've done something wrong? (Mordred)
You bet he does. Little Mordred suddenly turn into the sweetest little angle you can imagine when in danger of getting caught. He prefers to shove the guilt towards Penny because of reasons and because he doesn't want to see Bessas disappointed face.
🎵What music would they play when torturing someone (Blaine)
Blaine would either play a speed metal piece or in Eddie Dean's case, Tubesnake Boogy because he likes this song himself and sort of sees fit for it being Eddie's torture song. In fact, Blaine has a whole playlist with Torture Soundtracks he can use in any case.
🔭Do they fear the unknown or things they can't explain? (Patricia)
Patricia is generally someone who is very careful and shy around new things. But she is also eager to investigate them to learn from it after a while. This was the case as well back when she still was a Monorail. In fact at the start of her first live, Patricia was always very curious about new things and liked to discuss them with either Blaine or Suzie. She also cherished to talk with her passengers about it which Patricia did often.
@of-enormous-girth (thx so much for sending these, I love answering these things 🤗)
Also tagging @todashdreams because I know you enjoy reading things about the little Tet 💕
Hi! I saw the “Hero heals with positive feelings” thing and checked out your blog, and immediately got hit with the “Don’t Die” thing and that emotional whiplash was enough to send me back to an essay I was avoiding. Great writing!
✨Traumatizing people so they don’t procrastinate since 2023✨
@moni-logues you’re kinda my favorite person 😭 thank you for reading this silly stuff and actually liking it. It was fun to write again. What can I say?I’m a fucking fanfiction girlie, I just can’t stay tf away from my fav boys 😂😂😂
I 💜 You
-If I Had Asked-
Pairing: Jungkook x genderless reader
Genre: Romantic. Hurt. Comfort. Fluff. Exes to lovers. Oneshot.
Summary: Jungkook wants to catch up at a mutual friends birthday party.
Warnings: Language.
Inspired by this prompt.
WC: 1.5K
Jungkook weaves in and out of the throng of people in the small apartment. Seokjin had insisted on a small party, but as usual he’d gotten carried away and vastly overestimated the capacity of his flat.
Jungkook can pretend to be outgoing, a crowd lover, if the occasion calls for it, but in truth he feels like his skin is crawling every time he brushes up against a stranger. Normally he would’ve left after wishing his elder a happy birthday and leaving his present, a compilation book of Marvels 100 best comics, on the counter.
However, he has it on good authority that Seokjin invited you here tonight, and that you’d said yes.
Jungkook hasn’t seen you since you packed your shit and left his apartment over a year ago. You hadn’t been the least bit unserious when you told him you were done, you really had been. It took Jungkook a long time to realize that he probably should’ve gone after you. Too long. By the time it had occurred to him, six months had passed, you were seeing someone else, and his window had closed.
He was just a kid then, you both were, and maybe a year doesn’t make anyone wiser, but he’s learned a lot since then. Like how prioritizing everything over you because he just assumed you’d always be around was his biggest mistake.
His third circle of Jins apartment has him wondering if Namjoon had been wrong - you actually had no plans to come. Then he hears it. He would know your laugh in any universe. If he were in a coma he’d still hear it. It makes his heart ache.
You’re out on the terrace. A vodka cranberry, that’s probably more cranberry than anything, in one hand, a joint in the other. You’re chatting with Jimin, probably catching up, but like an invisible string is tethered, you turn your head and make eye contact with Jungkook through the glass. He see's you tense up for just a second, then you turn back to Jimin, looking like you're about to make a quick exit.
He can't have that.
Jungkook shimmies through the crowd and slides through the door. Jimin notices the change in the very air out on the terrace.
"Jungkook, long time no see," he says, trying to keep it light and charming, but the thick cloud of awkward is expanding by the second.
You look over the terrace out into the darkness, taking a long drag off the joint and blowing it into the air.
"Yeah," Jungkook shrugs, "I've been working a lot, not really had the energy for hanging out."
"For sure," Jimin nods. Then silence ensues. The noise from the party, lulled by the closed terrace door buzzes and beckons. "I'm going to go find Seokjin, see how drunk he is," Jimin jokes and the two of you offer up some forced laughter.
"Here," you say, handing him the joint, "I think I'm good."
Jimin takes it, offers it briefly to Jungkook who shakes his head no, then places it between his lips before retreating indoors like the terrace is on fire.
"Hi," Jungkook finally says.
"Hey there," you reply.
"Why is this so uncomfortable?" he laughs, taking the spot beside you to look out into the night. City lights dot the horizon like blinking stars and he focuses on one that seems to flash on and off every couple of seconds.
"I don't know," you finally answer, "I think these things are always awkward."
"What things?"
"Seeing your ex at a party for the first time since splitting," you clarify. "Though you'd think a years time would've papered over some of those cracks."
"I'm sorry," Jungkook offers, the list of things he owes you an apology for are is too long though, "Sorry for letting a year go by without speaking."
"It's fine," you say flatly. "How have you been? Seeing anyone?" you mentally slap yourself for adding that last bit. That opens up a whole conversation that you'd rather not have.
"I've been fine, I guess. Kind of just going through the motions of life, really. Neutral I suppose is the best way to describe it," he says, "and no. I was seeing someone for a bit, but...I don't know. It just fizzled out as quick as it started."
"That's too bad," you say, though you don't sound the least bit interested. You take another sip of your drink and you wish you'd asked Jin for an extra shot of vodka now.
"How's Taehyung? I didn't see him tonight," Jungkook wonders, waits for you answer with bated breath.
"He uh..." you chuckle dryly looking into your cup, "He's in Japan. Took a promotion in the company but had to relocate. He asked me to go...but..."
"You didn't?" Jungkook finishes. "Why not?"
"You know how ill my grandma is," you smile sadly, "I didn't think it was a good idea to leave."
"Are they not taking good care of her at the assisted living place?"
"They are," you nod, "but still."
"So, did you guys like, break up? Or are you doing the long distance thing?" he presses.
"Is this why you came out here? To ask me if I'm still seeing Taehyung?" you wonder, not bothering to hide the confusion or irritation.
Jungkook shakes his head, "I came out here to just talk, ___. That's what I'm doing."
You sigh. "No. We're not doing the long distance thing. We decided it would be better if we ended it, well, he decided," you laugh bitterly. "Though to be fair I think it was less of a 'hard versus easy’ issue, and more of a 'he wanted to be able to fuck whomever he wanted without having to feel guilty for it' issue."
"I'm sorry," Jungkook offers genuinely.
"Why?" you snap your head over to him, "I figured you'd be pleased with that outcome. After all I basically did the same thing to you."
"You didn't dump me so you could fuck other people without feeling guilty," he reminds you, then after a long pause adds, "Right?"
You laugh. "No, that's not why I broke up with you."
"You weren't happy," he says.
"I felt like I was your parent, you treated me like someone who was supposed to cater to your every need and like my job, my dreams were second to yours. That made me unhappy. That wasn't very fair."
"No, it wasn't. I acted like that because that's what I thought a grown up relationship was, that's what I wanted it to be."
"That's unhealthy," you tell him.
"I know," he nods, "and you told me that then as well."
"You never seemed to hear me," you recall. "That's why I left."
"I know," he nods, "You weren't the villain, but I made you into one for a long time. I've always been taken care of, with my family, with my friends - I'm always the one taken care of, and it took me a long time to grow out of that. To realize that a relationship is partnership, you hear people say it all the time but it's easy to gloss over what that means. I should've realized then, I should've heard you, but instead I just acted stupid, clueless."
"Thank you. That means a lot," you say.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"If I had asked, would you have stayed?" he looks at you, faces his whole body toward you so you do the same.
You think about it for a moment then shrug, "You didn't ask Jungkook. So I guess we'll never know."
You finish off your drink and turn the empty plastic cup over in your hand. "I need to go throw this away. I should really get going anyway."
He stands there defeated and nods.
"It was good seeing you Jungkook," you pat his shoulder, "Take care of yourself."
He stands there, listens as you slide the glass door, the dulled party buzzes to life, then lulls back out again, signaling you've made it inside and left him out on the terrace alone.
"Wait!" he yells, turning on his heels and pulling the heavy door. "___! Wait!"
You stop and turn towards his voice, along with the entire room. Everyone goes silent as they all look between the two of you.
"I'm asking now," he says, disregarding the audience.
You stare at him, skin hot from the gazes around the room. You rake your hand through your hair, letting it fall like a curtain around your face.
Jungkook crosses the room, eliminating the open stage that your interaction has turned into. He walks you back into a hallway that leads to Jins bedroom and bath. He backs you all the way up to the wall, his tattooed arms caging you in, shielding you from the onlookers who slowly, but surely, turn back into their own conversations.
"Are you drunk?" you ask.
"What?"
"Are you drunk?" you repeat, breathlessly.
"No," he shakes his head, "I had a coke, I have to be at work in the morning."
You nod. Your hands find purchase on his forearms and you uncage yourself, your fingertips sliding down his arm, tracing over your favorite, familiar ink, then intertwine with his.
You look up into his dark brown eyes, and smile, "Then drive me home."
Thank you so very much 🥰🫂 I’m so glad you enjoyed it 🫶🏼
Hard to Handle
Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader
Genre: Romance. Smut. Really, just smut. Also F2L.
Summary: You’re starting to want a little more from your FWB buddy.
Warnings: Explicit Language. Explicit sexual acts (oral, protected penetration). FWB situation. There is alcohol being consumed but not an amount that would inhibit or impair judgment or decisions.
A/N: A few nights ago I had a dream I played Jenga with Jk in his apartment 😂 it was NOT spicy at all bc my unconscious mind is boring, so let’s fix that. Also let’s give it a better ending than me waking up to my dog burping in my face.
WC: 2k
You’re sitting around Jungkooks dining room table, two beers in and hoping to lose at Jenga, which is a terrible game to play with drunk people, by the way. You didn’t really want to go out tonight, didn’t want to put on anything cute or put makeup on your face, but Jungkook reminded you that it’s been over a month since you’ve seen any of your friends in person. You’re overdue for socializing to meet basic human emotional requirements. Fair point.
Your phone goes off in your pocket, which you find odd, because everyone you know that would be texting you after midnight is sitting at this table.
JK: Everyone is going to start scattering soon.
You read the message then look over at him bewildered, shrugging your shoulders.
Me: Okay…and?
JK: Stay here tonight.
You look back over at him, he’s staring at his blocks, pretending to organize them but you can see the corners of his mouth slip into a mischievous smile.
Me: IDK. We probably shouldn’t keep doing that.
JK: Uh. Hard disagree. I feel like we should absolutely keep doing that. Over and over. A lot.
Me: You need a girlfriend dude.
JK: Maybe. You up for the job? I’m pretty hard to handle.
Me: Don’t joke about that shit. I don’t care to stay with you sometimes but I don’t want to start joking about being more, then it’s going to get confusing and I don’t want to deal with that.
JK: Right. Sorry. Zero confusion. Will you stay with me tonight so I can make a mess of you?
Me: …Yes.
Me:...Assuming we’re not still playing this damn game at 6AM. Jin could do this shit all night.
JK: Oh, I got you. Watch this…
“I gotta piss,” Jungkook says, standing up a little too quickly, his hip catches the edge of the table and the tower collapses with the devastating sound of blocks hitting the table and floor.
“Yah!!” Jin howls, “Look what you did!”
“Shit,” Jungkook tsks, “Sorry guys.”
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. The rest of the group moans and groans, but finally Namjoon stretches, looks at his phone and plants the seed, “It’s late, I need to get going.” Just like that, the table erupts with similar sentiments, and even Seokjin who sits and pouts for several moments, stands and starts grabbing up his things.
“Do you want a ride home, ___?” Yongsun asks.
“Uh, nah,” you shrug, “I’ve got a ride already.”
She grins, “I bet you do. Talk to you later.”
You feel the tips of your ears get hot and force a quiet laugh. Your friends aren’t stupid, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided to make a comment on why you always seem to stick around Jungkooks house after one of his little gatherings.
Jungkook follows everyone out into the hall to bid farewell then shuts the door softly and twists the lock. He turns and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds in the middle of his living room.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you into him, nuzzling the side of your face with his nose.
“Everybody knows what we’re doing,” you say softly, fingers already twisting into the hem of his shirt.
“Does that bother you?” he asks, hands slipping under your blouse, squeezing the small of your waist. His hands are so fucking warm.
“Kind of…no…I don’t know,” you answer.
“It doesn’t matter if they know we fuck sometimes, it’s not like they care, it’s not like they’re judging us,” he says, his lips start roaming the side of your throat.
“I know, I don’t know why it bothers me,” you lie. You do know why it bothers you. It bothers you because eventually someone’s going to ask what’s up, and the answer is that you want to completely fuck up this friendship. It didn’t start out like that. It started the way most arrangements like this start, he was single, you were single, and you were left alone in the same room.
It’s only been the last two or three times this has happened where you got stuck on it. Thinking about it days, even weeks after the sex, daydreaming about it. Wanting to ask him to go out just so you could hold his hand, just so you could be with him. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you started to fall for Jungkook, but it was getting harder and harder to deny it.
“If you don’t want to then let’s not,” he pulls away from you, lacing his fingers in yours as he places his forehead against your own.
“I do want to,” you tell him, and that certainly isn’t a lie. Now’s not the time to have an internal battle with your logical side, so you grab his shirt hem and pull it off, then shove him down onto his sofa.
“Strip,” he points to your body as he unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper of his jeans. You watch as he shimmies them down his hips, until the base of his cock where his pubic hair gets thicker is barely showing. You’re pretty sure you were wet to begin with, but if not you certainly are now. You can feel it pooling between your thighs.
You remember your instructions and begin removing clothes piece by piece until you’re fully naked.
He curls his finger and beckons, “Come here pretty girl.”
You crawl onto him, straddling his lap. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls, tilting your head back so he can suck and lick where he wants, which starts with your neck then dips down to your chest.
“Koo…” you groan as he gently licks at your nipples, leaving wet trails and kisses between them.
“I know,” you can feel him smile against your nipple, he blows cool air against you and you instinctively grind your hips against him. “How wet are you, hm?”
He licks the pad of his middle and index fingers, then reaches between your legs, swirling them through your slick.
“Please…” you beg.
He pops his fingers back into his mouth, “So good, you taste so fucking good. Lay down.”
You fall over onto the couch and he rids himself of his remaining clothing then perches himself between your legs. He grabs one ankle and nips at your calf before propping your leg on the back of the couch. He slides your other leg off the cushion with his knee so you’re spread wide for him.
“Say please again,” he draws his tongue across his lip, wiggling the silver and black stud. “It’s so fucking hot.”
You smile shyly, “Please Koo?”
He narrows his eyes playfully and drags the back of his knuckle up your slit, you writhe on the cushions with a gasp.
“More specific,” he teases. “Tell me you want me to fuck you with my mouth.”
“Fuck,” you whine, “Please fuck me with your mouth, fucking please Jungkook.”
He chuckles, lowering himself onto his stomach. He drags his tongue down the inside of your thigh, slow and wet, then up the other leg. He’s teasing you, planting sloppy kisses everywhere except where you want him to. Finally you’ve had enough, you bury your hands in his hair and guide him to your center.
“Impatient much?” he jokes, flicking his tongue over your clit.
“It’s been a month, give me a break,” you breathe.
He pauses and looks up at you, “You haven’t…since the last time you and I?”
You want to tell him you haven’t been with anyone since you started this whole fling, not just since the last time. That might be too much information though, so you just shrug and nod your head.
He seems to contemplate this a moment, but then that mischievous smile returns, “Well let me help you out.”
He doesn’t hold back or tease this time and you lay your head back onto a throw pillow, rocking your hips in time with his expert tongue and listening to the wet noises and little moans he’s making.
“Like that…right there,” you pant. “Oh fuck…”
He sweeps his tongue over your entrance, slowly sliding your wetness up to your clit where he softly licks and sucks, sending you over the edge. You grip the edges of the couch as your body shudders and your breathing becomes uneven.
Jungkook sits up on his knees, eyes dark, cock throbbing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his arm.
“One second,” he pants, skulking off through the house, leaving you breathless and hot.
When he comes back he chews the corner off a condom wrapper, spitting the tiny piece somewhere in his living room. You grab his arm and drag him down. Wrap your arms around him, kissing and sucking his shoulder as he rolls the latex down his length and pulls your leg over his lap.
“Ride me,” he growls, gripping the sides of your ass so hard you’re sure there will be bruises. Good.
You lower yourself down on him, pausing when he’s flush inside. You wonder if you’ll ever get accustomed to the delicious stretch of him inside you and hope that never happens.
He smacks your ass with his palm, then grabs your hips, dragging you back up his length then slamming you back down.
“Fuck,” he groans, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Feel good?” you ask, taking his mouth with yours.
He nods, “mmhmm, keep going, feels so good baby.”
You kiss him once more then brace yourself on his shoulders, finding a rhythm between bouncing and grinding that makes your insides vibrate and has him coming undone beneath you.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you pant.
“Good, keep going,” he smiles. He starts meeting your bounds by thrusting himself up hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the room, your whimpers and his moans occasionally overpowering the noise. You can feel the pull, and you bounce harder, faster, chasing it until it explodes.
Once Jungkook feels you spasm around him he holds you still, burying himself inside you while he reaches his own high.
He grabs your chin gently with his fingers and pulls you into a kiss, tongue gently pushing against yours.
“What if I wasn’t joking?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.
Your heart jumps inside your chest, “What do you mean?”
He pushes some of your hair off your face, “Earlier when I was texting you about being my girlfriend, what if I wasn’t joking?”
“Is that…do you want that?” you press.
“I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t,” he laughs.
“What about being friends for so long? Would that be weird, to change it?” you point out.
He shrugs, “I think being friends lays a pretty good foundation, why? Do you not feel the same way?”
You shake your head and laugh, “No, I feel the same way. I’ve been freaking out over how I feel about you for months Koo. I’m just blurting out all the questions I’ve been keeping to myself.”
“You could’ve said something,” he laughs with you. “You’ve always been like that, gotta hash out all the answers and outcomes in your head before you bring anyone else in.”
“What can I say,” you shrug, “I’m hard to handle. You think you’re up for the job?”
“Most definitely, pretty girl.”
Endnote:
1. This is very unbeta’d because it’s just for fun and so very unserious. So there’s that. Also I’m very out of practice writing smut so also that. Ok thanks 💜 if you made it far enough to read this I’m giving you a virtual smooch 😘
For me it bc of his face lmao. Idk if that makes sense but even if he were like, difficult, possessive, the opposite of how we conceptualize him - in the middle of an argument I’d still just grab him and be like “it’s so cute you’re mad” lmao he just has the face of innocence with a lil bit of wild tucked in there.
He’s probably wilder than Hell tbh. But I adore him and his sweet face (and his arms 🤭).
Hard to Handle
Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader
Genre: Romance. Smut. Really, just smut. Also F2L.
Summary: You’re starting to want a little more from your FWB buddy.
Warnings: Explicit Language. Explicit sexual acts (oral, protected penetration). FWB situation. There is alcohol being consumed but not an amount that would inhibit or impair judgment or decisions.
A/N: A few nights ago I had a dream I played Jenga with Jk in his apartment 😂 it was NOT spicy at all bc my unconscious mind is boring, so let’s fix that. Also let’s give it a better ending than me waking up to my dog burping in my face.
WC: 2k
You’re sitting around Jungkooks dining room table, two beers in and hoping to lose at Jenga, which is a terrible game to play with drunk people, by the way. You didn’t really want to go out tonight, didn’t want to put on anything cute or put makeup on your face, but Jungkook reminded you that it’s been over a month since you’ve seen any of your friends in person. You’re overdue for socializing to meet basic human emotional requirements. Fair point.
Your phone goes off in your pocket, which you find odd, because everyone you know that would be texting you after midnight is sitting at this table.
JK: Everyone is going to start scattering soon.
You read the message then look over at him bewildered, shrugging your shoulders.
Me: Okay…and?
JK: Stay here tonight.
You look back over at him, he’s staring at his blocks, pretending to organize them but you can see the corners of his mouth slip into a mischievous smile.
Me: IDK. We probably shouldn’t keep doing that.
JK: Uh. Hard disagree. I feel like we should absolutely keep doing that. Over and over. A lot.
Me: You need a girlfriend dude.
JK: Maybe. You up for the job? I’m pretty hard to handle.
Me: Don’t joke about that shit. I don’t care to stay with you sometimes but I don’t want to start joking about being more, then it’s going to get confusing and I don’t want to deal with that.
JK: Right. Sorry. Zero confusion. Will you stay with me tonight so I can make a mess of you?
Me: …Yes.
Me:...Assuming we’re not still playing this damn game at 6AM. Jin could do this shit all night.
JK: Oh, I got you. Watch this…
“I gotta piss,” Jungkook says, standing up a little too quickly, his hip catches the edge of the table and the tower collapses with the devastating sound of blocks hitting the table and floor.
“Yah!!” Jin howls, “Look what you did!”
“Shit,” Jungkook tsks, “Sorry guys.”
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. The rest of the group moans and groans, but finally Namjoon stretches, looks at his phone and plants the seed, “It’s late, I need to get going.” Just like that, the table erupts with similar sentiments, and even Seokjin who sits and pouts for several moments, stands and starts grabbing up his things.
“Do you want a ride home, ___?” Yongsun asks.
“Uh, nah,” you shrug, “I’ve got a ride already.”
She grins, “I bet you do. Talk to you later.”
You feel the tips of your ears get hot and force a quiet laugh. Your friends aren’t stupid, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided to make a comment on why you always seem to stick around Jungkooks house after one of his little gatherings.
Jungkook follows everyone out into the hall to bid farewell then shuts the door softly and twists the lock. He turns and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds in the middle of his living room.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you into him, nuzzling the side of your face with his nose.
“Everybody knows what we’re doing,” you say softly, fingers already twisting into the hem of his shirt.
“Does that bother you?” he asks, hands slipping under your blouse, squeezing the small of your waist. His hands are so fucking warm.
“Kind of…no…I don’t know,” you answer.
“It doesn’t matter if they know we fuck sometimes, it’s not like they care, it’s not like they’re judging us,” he says, his lips start roaming the side of your throat.
“I know, I don’t know why it bothers me,” you lie. You do know why it bothers you. It bothers you because eventually someone’s going to ask what’s up, and the answer is that you want to completely fuck up this friendship. It didn’t start out like that. It started the way most arrangements like this start, he was single, you were single, and you were left alone in the same room.
It’s only been the last two or three times this has happened where you got stuck on it. Thinking about it days, even weeks after the sex, daydreaming about it. Wanting to ask him to go out just so you could hold his hand, just so you could be with him. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you started to fall for Jungkook, but it was getting harder and harder to deny it.
“If you don’t want to then let’s not,” he pulls away from you, lacing his fingers in yours as he places his forehead against your own.
“I do want to,” you tell him, and that certainly isn’t a lie. Now’s not the time to have an internal battle with your logical side, so you grab his shirt hem and pull it off, then shove him down onto his sofa.
“Strip,” he points to your body as he unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper of his jeans. You watch as he shimmies them down his hips, until the base of his cock where his pubic hair gets thicker is barely showing. You’re pretty sure you were wet to begin with, but if not you certainly are now. You can feel it pooling between your thighs.
You remember your instructions and begin removing clothes piece by piece until you’re fully naked.
He curls his finger and beckons, “Come here pretty girl.”
You crawl onto him, straddling his lap. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls, tilting your head back so he can suck and lick where he wants, which starts with your neck then dips down to your chest.
“Koo…” you groan as he gently licks at your nipples, leaving wet trails and kisses between them.
“I know,” you can feel him smile against your nipple, he blows cool air against you and you instinctively grind your hips against him. “How wet are you, hm?”
He licks the pad of his middle and index fingers, then reaches between your legs, swirling them through your slick.
“Please…” you beg.
He pops his fingers back into his mouth, “So good, you taste so fucking good. Lay down.”
You fall over onto the couch and he rids himself of his remaining clothing then perches himself between your legs. He grabs one ankle and nips at your calf before propping your leg on the back of the couch. He slides your other leg off the cushion with his knee so you’re spread wide for him.
“Say please again,” he draws his tongue across his lip, wiggling the silver and black stud. “It’s so fucking hot.”
You smile shyly, “Please Koo?”
He narrows his eyes playfully and drags the back of his knuckle up your slit, you writhe on the cushions with a gasp.
“More specific,” he teases. “Tell me you want me to fuck you with my mouth.”
“Fuck,” you whine, “Please fuck me with your mouth, fucking please Jungkook.”
He chuckles, lowering himself onto his stomach. He drags his tongue down the inside of your thigh, slow and wet, then up the other leg. He’s teasing you, planting sloppy kisses everywhere except where you want him to. Finally you’ve had enough, you bury your hands in his hair and guide him to your center.
“Impatient much?” he jokes, flicking his tongue over your clit.
“It’s been a month, give me a break,” you breathe.
He pauses and looks up at you, “You haven’t…since the last time you and I?”
You want to tell him you haven’t been with anyone since you started this whole fling, not just since the last time. That might be too much information though, so you just shrug and nod your head.
He seems to contemplate this a moment, but then that mischievous smile returns, “Well let me help you out.”
He doesn’t hold back or tease this time and you lay your head back onto a throw pillow, rocking your hips in time with his expert tongue and listening to the wet noises and little moans he’s making.
“Like that…right there,” you pant. “Oh fuck…”
He sweeps his tongue over your entrance, slowly sliding your wetness up to your clit where he softly licks and sucks, sending you over the edge. You grip the edges of the couch as your body shudders and your breathing becomes uneven.
Jungkook sits up on his knees, eyes dark, cock throbbing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his arm.
“One second,” he pants, skulking off through the house, leaving you breathless and hot.
When he comes back he chews the corner off a condom wrapper, spitting the tiny piece somewhere in his living room. You grab his arm and drag him down. Wrap your arms around him, kissing and sucking his shoulder as he rolls the latex down his length and pulls your leg over his lap.
“Ride me,” he growls, gripping the sides of your ass so hard you’re sure there will be bruises. Good.
You lower yourself down on him, pausing when he’s flush inside. You wonder if you’ll ever get accustomed to the delicious stretch of him inside you and hope that never happens.
He smacks your ass with his palm, then grabs your hips, dragging you back up his length then slamming you back down.
“Fuck,” he groans, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Feel good?” you ask, taking his mouth with yours.
He nods, “mmhmm, keep going, feels so good baby.”
You kiss him once more then brace yourself on his shoulders, finding a rhythm between bouncing and grinding that makes your insides vibrate and has him coming undone beneath you.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you pant.
“Good, keep going,” he smiles. He starts meeting your bounds by thrusting himself up hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the room, your whimpers and his moans occasionally overpowering the noise. You can feel the pull, and you bounce harder, faster, chasing it until it explodes.
Once Jungkook feels you spasm around him he holds you still, burying himself inside you while he reaches his own high.
He grabs your chin gently with his fingers and pulls you into a kiss, tongue gently pushing against yours.
“What if I wasn’t joking?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.
Your heart jumps inside your chest, “What do you mean?”
He pushes some of your hair off your face, “Earlier when I was texting you about being my girlfriend, what if I wasn’t joking?”
“Is that…do you want that?” you press.
“I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t,” he laughs.
“What about being friends for so long? Would that be weird, to change it?” you point out.
He shrugs, “I think being friends lays a pretty good foundation, why? Do you not feel the same way?”
You shake your head and laugh, “No, I feel the same way. I’ve been freaking out over how I feel about you for months Koo. I’m just blurting out all the questions I’ve been keeping to myself.”
“You could’ve said something,” he laughs with you. “You’ve always been like that, gotta hash out all the answers and outcomes in your head before you bring anyone else in.”
“What can I say,” you shrug, “I’m hard to handle. You think you’re up for the job?”
“Most definitely, pretty girl.”
Endnote:
1. This is very unbeta’d because it’s just for fun and so very unserious. So there’s that. Also I’m very out of practice writing smut so also that. Ok thanks 💜 if you made it far enough to read this I’m giving you a virtual smooch 😘
I NEED MORE MINHO CONTENT. IM PRACTICALLY DROOLING OVER PROFESSOR MINHO 😩 YOU WRITE SO WELL🤩🤩🤩
Anonnnnnn. Thank you so much 😭🥰 I’m truly glad you enjoyed it, and thank you so so much for taking the time to send me this 💜💜💜 I appreciate it.
…and I felt electrified reading your tags 😭🫂💜
Of Course, Professor
Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader
Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.
Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.
Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.
A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum.
“Can you stop please?”
You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands.
“...Sorry…”
You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade.
To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber.
If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign.
You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.
“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse.
“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you.
There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes.
“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room.
Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again.
You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again.
“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?”
“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.”
“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.”
“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.”
“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks.
“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”
He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.
You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation.
You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something.
“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk.
“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.”
“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.
“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”
You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.”
The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not.
Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.”
Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?”
“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter.
Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump.
“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.”
Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’
“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing.
“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?”
“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk.
He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?”
“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.”
“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes.
You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic.
“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.”
“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates.
“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff.
“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.”
“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down.
“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.”
You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.
“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.”
“You just said…”
“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.”
You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”
Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers.
You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.”
“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains.
“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief.
“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?”
“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.”
“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses.
“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer.
“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles.
“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.
“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks.
“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him.
“I look forward to it, Miss ___.”
📖 ❤️
You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it.
“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases.
“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh.
“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him.
“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on.
“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”
“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile.
“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out.
“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg.
“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.”
He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself.
You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…
You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…
You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable.
“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again.
“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades.
“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee.
This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up.
📖 ❤️
“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack.
“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing.
Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment.
“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle.
“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease.
“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head.
“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit.
“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat.
“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side.
“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment.
“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed.
“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?”
“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself.
“Never something you what?” he presses.
You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.”
“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.”
“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him.
“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares.
“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves.
“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.”
“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.”
“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs.
“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego.
“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins.
“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder.
“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”
“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle.
“Is this your building?” he points.
“Yes, it is.”
He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers.
He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder.
“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard.
“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today.
You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through.
“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag.
To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.
“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”
“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished.
“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.”
“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.”
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes.
“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.”
“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks.
“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.”
“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.”
“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.”
“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!”
You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door.
📖 ❤️
Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.
“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying.
“Already?” he looks at you.
“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?”
“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.”
Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him.
“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon.
“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?”
Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly.
“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.”
He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?”
You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone.
“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask.
“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares.
“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.”
“Good, shall we?”
📖 ❤️
“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?”
“No.”
Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back.
“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?”
“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down.
“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles.
“I’ll get those right out.”
Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown.
“Is everything alright?” you ask.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.”
“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.”
“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.”
“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?”
“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.”
You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?”
“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly.
“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table.
“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?”
You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon.
“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.”
You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu.
You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.”
“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug.
The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse.
📖 ❤️
The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door.
His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away.
“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again.
“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues.
He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing.
“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth.
Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?”
“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips.
He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car.
“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.”
He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in.
“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition.
“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up.
“Uh…mine… mine I think.”
“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him.
Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness.
He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric.
You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?”
“I…why?”
You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist.
“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel.
You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans.
You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably.
“God…”
You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking.
“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily.
“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.”
“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth.
He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road.
📖 ❤️
The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours.
“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely.
He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth.
You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?”
“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs.
“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease.
“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.”
“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!”
He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room.
“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips.
“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer.
You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs.
“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt.
“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.
Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you.
“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…”
“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly.
“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again.
“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs.
“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again.
“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind.
“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it.
You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster.
His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.
“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts.
“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest.
“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands.
“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.”
He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?”
He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.”
📖 ❤️
You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you.
He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.”
Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully.
“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.
At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,
See you at my place tonight?
The End
Endnote:
I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.
Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.
I need you to write ALLLLLLL the Minho fics. It has been rought trying to find good skz fics. More Minho! More Minho! lolol I love your writing!!
Anon!!!! Thank you 🫂😭🤧
I’ve read a few really good skz fics. I need to try to be better about reblogging them in a more timely manner.
I do plan on writing more Minho in the future. In fact I currently have a 60 page wip in my docs about Mafia Minho & Hyunjin. She’s massive though, and will have to be separated into chapters for my sanity. There’s also no clear ending in sight so no ETA on it - but it does exist lol
Thanks for reading it friend 💙 my Lee Know slut era has temporarily hit a pause it seems but I have a feeling it is far from over 😂😂
Of Course, Professor
Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader
Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.
Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.
Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.
A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum.
“Can you stop please?”
You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands.
“...Sorry…”
You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade.
To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber.
If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign.
You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.
“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse.
“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you.
There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes.
“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room.
Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again.
You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again.
“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?”
“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.”
“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.”
“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.”
“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks.
“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”
He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.
You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation.
You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something.
“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk.
“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.”
“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.
“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”
You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.”
The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not.
Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.”
Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?”
“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter.
Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump.
“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.”
Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’
“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing.
“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?”
“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk.
He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?”
“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.”
“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes.
You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic.
“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.”
“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates.
“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff.
“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.”
“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down.
“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.”
You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.
“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.”
“You just said…”
“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.”
You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”
Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers.
You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.”
“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains.
“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief.
“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?”
“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.”
“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses.
“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer.
“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles.
“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.
“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks.
“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him.
“I look forward to it, Miss ___.”
📖 ❤️
You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it.
“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases.
“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh.
“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him.
“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on.
“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”
“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile.
“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out.
“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg.
“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.”
He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself.
You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…
You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…
You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable.
“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again.
“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades.
“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee.
This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up.
📖 ❤️
“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack.
“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing.
Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment.
“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle.
“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease.
“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head.
“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit.
“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat.
“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side.
“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment.
“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed.
“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?”
“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself.
“Never something you what?” he presses.
You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.”
“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.”
“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him.
“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares.
“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves.
“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.”
“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.”
“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs.
“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego.
“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins.
“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder.
“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”
“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle.
“Is this your building?” he points.
“Yes, it is.”
He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers.
He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder.
“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard.
“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today.
You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through.
“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag.
To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.
“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”
“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished.
“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.”
“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.”
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes.
“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.”
“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks.
“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.”
“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.”
“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.”
“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!”
You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door.
📖 ❤️
Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.
“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying.
“Already?” he looks at you.
“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?”
“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.”
Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him.
“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon.
“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?”
Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly.
“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.”
He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?”
You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone.
“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask.
“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares.
“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.”
“Good, shall we?”
📖 ❤️
“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?”
“No.”
Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back.
“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?”
“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down.
“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles.
“I’ll get those right out.”
Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown.
“Is everything alright?” you ask.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.”
“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.”
“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.”
“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?”
“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.”
You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?”
“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly.
“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table.
“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?”
You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon.
“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.”
You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu.
You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.”
“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug.
The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse.
📖 ❤️
The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door.
His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away.
“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again.
“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues.
He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing.
“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth.
Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?”
“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips.
He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car.
“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.”
He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in.
“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition.
“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up.
“Uh…mine… mine I think.”
“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him.
Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness.
He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric.
You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?”
“I…why?”
You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist.
“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel.
You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans.
You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably.
“God…”
You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking.
“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily.
“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.”
“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth.
He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road.
📖 ❤️
The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours.
“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely.
He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth.
You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?”
“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs.
“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease.
“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.”
“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!”
He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room.
“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips.
“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer.
You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs.
“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt.
“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.
Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you.
“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…”
“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly.
“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again.
“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs.
“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again.
“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind.
“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it.
You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster.
His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.
“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts.
“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest.
“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands.
“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.”
He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?”
He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.”
📖 ❤️
You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you.
He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.”
Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully.
“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.
At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,
See you at my place tonight?
The End
Endnote:
I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.
Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.
Not me still giddy over your feedback 🤭🥰
The waiter line was fun because once my brother took me out to eat for my birthday and the waiter asked something like that and we were like “ew wtf? Noooo! 🤮” like as if we were ready to square up 😂😂 the poor guy. He was shooketh.
Thank you for reading this my dear, and for taking the time to drop this hella fine reblog 🩷🥰🩷🥰
Of Course, Professor
Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader
Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.
Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.
Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.
A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum.
“Can you stop please?”
You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands.
“...Sorry…”
You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade.
To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber.
If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign.
You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.
“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse.
“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you.
There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes.
“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room.
Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again.
You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again.
“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?”
“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.”
“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.”
“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.”
“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks.
“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”
He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.
You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation.
You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something.
“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk.
“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.”
“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.
“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”
You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.”
The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not.
Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.”
Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?”
“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter.
Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump.
“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.”
Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’
“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing.
“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?”
“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk.
He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?”
“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.”
“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes.
You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic.
“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.”
“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates.
“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff.
“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.”
“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down.
“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.”
You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.
“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.”
“You just said…”
“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.”
You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”
Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers.
You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.”
“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains.
“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief.
“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?”
“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.”
“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses.
“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer.
“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles.
“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.
“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks.
“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him.
“I look forward to it, Miss ___.”
📖 ❤️
You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it.
“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases.
“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh.
“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him.
“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on.
“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”
“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile.
“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out.
“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg.
“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.”
He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself.
You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…
You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…
You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable.
“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again.
“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades.
“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee.
This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up.
📖 ❤️
“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack.
“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing.
Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment.
“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle.
“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease.
“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head.
“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit.
“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat.
“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side.
“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment.
“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed.
“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?”
“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself.
“Never something you what?” he presses.
You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.”
“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.”
“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him.
“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares.
“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves.
“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.”
“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.”
“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs.
“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego.
“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins.
“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder.
“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”
“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle.
“Is this your building?” he points.
“Yes, it is.”
He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers.
He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder.
“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard.
“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today.
You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through.
“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag.
To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.
“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”
“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished.
“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.”
“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.”
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes.
“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.”
“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks.
“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.”
“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.”
“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.”
“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!”
You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door.
📖 ❤️
Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.
“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying.
“Already?” he looks at you.
“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?”
“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.”
Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him.
“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon.
“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?”
Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly.
“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.”
He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?”
You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone.
“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask.
“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares.
“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.”
“Good, shall we?”
📖 ❤️
“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?”
“No.”
Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back.
“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?”
“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down.
“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles.
“I’ll get those right out.”
Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown.
“Is everything alright?” you ask.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.”
“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.”
“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.”
“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?”
“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.”
You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?”
“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly.
“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table.
“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?”
You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon.
“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.”
You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu.
You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.”
“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug.
The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse.
📖 ❤️
The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door.
His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away.
“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again.
“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues.
He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing.
“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth.
Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?”
“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips.
He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car.
“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.”
He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in.
“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition.
“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up.
“Uh…mine… mine I think.”
“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him.
Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness.
He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric.
You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?”
“I…why?”
You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist.
“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel.
You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans.
You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably.
“God…”
You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking.
“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily.
“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.”
“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth.
He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road.
📖 ❤️
The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours.
“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely.
He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth.
You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?”
“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs.
“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease.
“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.”
“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!”
He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room.
“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips.
“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer.
You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs.
“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt.
“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.
Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you.
“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…”
“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly.
“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again.
“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs.
“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again.
“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind.
“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it.
You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster.
His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.
“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts.
“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest.
“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands.
“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.”
He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?”
He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.”
📖 ❤️
You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you.
He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.”
Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully.
“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.
At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,
See you at my place tonight?
The End
Endnote:
I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.
Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.
Look. One thing about me is I almost always give my stories a happy ending even if it doesn’t need it or make any sense 😂 there have been a few exceptions over the years but I’m a happily ever after gal 💕 thank you for reading doll!
Of Course, Professor (Drabble)
Pairing: Professor! Lee Know x Female Reader
Genre: Romantic. Smut. Fluff.
Summary: A spicy but sweet night at home.
Warnings: Explicit language and explicit depictions of sex.
WC: 950
A/N: I was originally going to end the main story with some 🌶️ but I changed my mind and never finished the scene. You all voted for spicy domestic fluff over raunchy, totally unethical office smut - which btw I'm proud af of you all lmaooo - so here it is.
“What are you working on?” Minho asks as he sits beside you on the couch with a pile of papers in his lap.
You look up from your sketchbook and shrug, “I’m trying to sketch out some ideas, I’d like to put some original paintings in my classroom as decoration.”
He looks over your shoulder onto the notebook in front of you, “I like all the different shapes in this one.”
“I like it too,” you turn your head and peck his lips with yours, “I think I’m going to do it in really bright, bold colors. The kids will like it.”
“They’ll love it,” he smiles, “Are you nervous for school to start?”
“No,” you say sheepishly then chuckle, “but yes. It’s been a while since I was in a classroom, and when I was I was still a student, with a veteran teacher to correct my mistakes - being in a room alone, with no one there to fix it if I mess up is intimidating. Then again, it’s just art, how bad could I possibly fuck them up?” you laugh and Minho chuckles too.
“It’s not just art,” he takes your sketchbook and starts flipping through, “To at least one of those children, it’s going to be the most important class they ever take. Years - decades - from now they’ll remember what they learned from the teacher who taught them that their art mattered, that it was important. They’ll think of you every time they pick up a brush, or pencil and I can’t think of a more perfect person for the job.”
You stare at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.
“What?” he grins back, “Is there something on my face?”
You shake your head and crawl over him, pushing his paperwork to the side, your legs straddling his lap and you take his face in your hands.
“I just can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t know how sweet and soft you were,” you tell him, pressing your lips against his.
“Mmm,” he moans into your mouth, “I am not.”
“You are.”
He tosses you over onto your back and you giggle, “And I can’t believe you ever thought you were going to be a lawyer,” he clicks his teeth and sorts his papers back in order, shaking them at you, “No discipline at all. Your classes don’t begin until August, but some of us are teaching Summer classes and Sunday is my day to grade…”
As he lectures you, you slide your shorts and underwear off. When he looks back his eyes go dark as you allow your knees to gently fall apart.
He makes a raspy sound in his throat as his eyes narrow, “No fucking discipline…” he mutters, tossing the papers on the coffee table.
“Then teach me some, Professor,” you bite your lip.
He chuckles as he pulls his shirt over his head, “A pointless endeavor. I spoil you is what I do,” he grins, situating himself between your legs. He begins kissing the inside of your thighs, the cool air hitting your center tells you you’re already soaked.
He dips a finger into your cunt and twists, your hips come off the couch and you sigh. He continues to pump you while his tongue paints swirls of pleasure over every centimeter of your pussy. He’s so fucking good. You find yourself burying your fingers in his hair, latching him onto you as you move your hips with his mouth as the pleasure builds. Every time he eats you out you try to hold it, to stop yourself from coming just to bask in how good his tongue feels on you, but maybe he’s right - you have no discipline. You spread your legs as far as they go and stiffen, your orgasm hitting you in rhythmic waves.
“More,” you manage to squeak out.
“Spoiled,” he whispers back, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm as he pulls the rest of his clothes off and resumes his place between your legs.
He grabs your hands and holds them in place above your head, his lips come down on one of your nipples and he gently sucks and licks wide languid strokes over the sensitive bud. You squirm beneath him, needing to feel him inside you. Finally he relents, and removes his mouth from your breast, still stiffly holding your hands while he pushes into you.
He pauses for a moment, even all these months later both of you still need a second to adapt to him deep inside you. It’s more than a physical connection of body parts, it feels incendiary, it feels right - it feels like love.
You wrap your legs around his hips so he can go as deep as he needs to, his open mouth against your neck spilling rapid breaths and dirty, sexy secrets. You know he’s close, so you lift your hips slightly because you’re so in tune with him that you know it will hit just right, know it will push you over the edge too and he needs it.
When the coil all wound up inside you springs, you spasm around him and he moans, freezing all movement except for the throbbing of his cock spilling inside you. He remains on top of you for several moments, letting his breath return to normal. He lets go of your fists and slides his palm over yours, lacing your fingers together as he plants kisses along your cheek and jawline, his cock softening inside your body.
“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, eyes closed.
You use your free hand to wipe his sweaty bangs from his face, you kiss his nose and lips, “I love you too Minho.”
THE END
Endnotes:
Thank you for reading, and here's your virtual smooooooch 😘
My Sluts for Minho tag list / people who asked to be tagged in pt 2: @katieraven , @linocz , @screamobubbles , @hpnsfwaddict , @simpforleeknaur also @moni-logues (so she doesn’t send me threatening discord messages 😂) …If I missed you somehow I’m sorry, I’ve got zero organization methods when approaching tag lists and relied on re-reading the replies on the main fic to remember who asked, so if you asked a different way it probably got lost in my brain 🙃
Katie!!! I can’t believe you read through the gore and guts just for me 😂😭🫂 I love you bestie!!!
Safe.
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Me not knowing a single thing about medicine and relying on Google to give me accurate-ish information and the hope that I'm kind of explaining it correctly but knowing I'm probably not, so apologies to any reader who may work in medicine and is rolling their eyes at me lol. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 6k
AN: I have never ever in my life written a mafia fic, at least nothing I’ve ever posted or kept so…good luck. Additionally, this fic was originally all one doc which ended up being too much to handle, like Tumblr would not even try to meet me halfway. So I decided to break her up into chapters which I will post routinely until she's over. No idea how many chapters bc I’m still deciding on how to separate some of the later parts of the story…so hang tight with me.
-PART ONE-
It’s the blare of a phone ringing that wakes you in the middle of the night. You pull yourself to the edge of the bed and look at the two phones that lay on your bedside table. One is personal, in a shiny black case that in truth, hardly ever rings or blips anymore. The other is a silver phone, caseless, a little worse for the wear and the screen is illuminated with an unsaved telephone number. This particular detail doesn’t really matter, there’s only a few people who would be calling it, and they cycle through burner phones so often there’s no point in saving anything.
“Hello?” your voice is scratchy from sleep.
“We’re ten minutes out,” Changbin says urgently, skipping greetings entirely. You sit up and throw your feet over the edge of the bed.
“Who is it and how bad?” you ask, flitting around your bedroom switching lights on and grabbing a hair tie.
“It’s Hyunjin, and I don’t think he’s going to die but I can’t stop the bleeding,” Changbin grunts.
“Gun shot?” you assume, already downstairs and clearing the dining table, wondering what kind of trauma you need to prepare for.
“Stabbed.”
“Fuck,” you stop. Possibilities like artery and organ punctures start spinning around your head. You pray it’s not abdominal, but you know these men too well so you don’t ask, because you’re sure you already know the answer.
“We can’t take him to an ER, ___, his face is on every list in the city. You know they always keep informants in the emergency departments, we can’t take him there,” Changbin urges and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
He’s correct. When Lee Minho, crime lord and your current employer first found you, you were working the night shift at the emergency department. You knew that because of the high crime rate in the city, many of the staff who sat at the check in and triage stations were also paid police informants, ready to dial up the officers to run any names or faces that looked sketchy, had a shady story, or came in with GSWs, or similar combative injuries.
“Okay. Okay, keep direct pressure on the wound and I mean a lot of pressure Changbin, it’s going to feel like you’re hurting him but trust me, lots of pressure. I’ll prep the dining room,” you tell him.
You take a deep breath and think. You start a pot of boiling water and lay out some clean towels on the counter. Then fly around the room opening drawers: Gloves, scissors, gauze, bandages, wound packing strips, disinfectant, antibiotics, stitch kit, and the silent prayer that no arteries, or internal organs have been compromised because you are not a surgeon and you will have to send them out to a hospital, which is more time wasted and gives Hyunjin a significantly lower survival chance.
You weigh a clean sheet down over the table just as you hear tires squeal into the driveway outside. You run to the door and unlock it, propping it open so they can carry him in.
“It’s bad ___, he’s out cold,” Felix grunts breathlessly as he and Changbin carry an unconscious Hyunjin into the room. All three are covered in blood and you don’t bother asking if it’s Hyunjins, theirs, or someone else's. The two of them are walking, conscious and breathing, so it doesn’t matter at the moment.
“Okay, it’ll be okay,” you blather in a much higher tone than you mean to.
You don the gloves and grab the scissors, cutting up the seams of Hyunjins black satin shirt, soaked with blood. Changbin keeps his hand pressed to Hyunjins left side, a balled up tee shirt gripped in his shaking fist.
“Bin,” you say softly, “I need to cut the shirt away, okay? When I say three I want you to pull your hand off,” you explain and he nods, “Felix, I need you to bring the pot of water and those clean towels from the kitchen in here for me,” you instruct.
You look at Hyunjins sweet face, ghastly pale, and lips several shades lighter than what they ought to be. He’s clearly lost a lot of blood and you briefly think of a transfusion, but have no way of performing one - most of these men have no idea what blood type they are anyway but even if they did you don’t have the means to do it.
“Okay,” you breathe deeply once the shirt is mostly gone, the scent of iron and copper floods your nose, “One…two…three.”
Changbin pulls the balled up, blood soaked cloth from the wound and you watch as the thick, red substance trickles out while you finish off the shirt. You hear Changbin gasp and curse under his breath.
“It’s okay,” you say, “That’s a fairly good sign, see how it’s a slow trickle and not a burst or spurt? That’s a good sign,” you repeat for him, grabbing a handful of gauze to press into the wound.
Changbin nods and backs away.
“No, no,” you stop him, “Go wash your hands, put some gloves on and come back here, Felix, you do the same. Quickly.”
The two men disperse to do as they’re told and you hold the gauze in place with one hand, wetting a towel to clean off the area with the other so you can see what you’re working on better. It’s on his left side, above his hip in the small of his waist. That significantly decreases the number of organs possibly punctured. Left kidney, lung, and/or possible intestinal damage - none of which are good news, but that will make it easier to look for tell tale signs, which as of right now you don’t see.
Changbin and Felix return, gloved up and ready to assist as you work diligently to stop the bleeding by packing the wound.
“How long was the blade?” you ask as you work. You stick your fingertip into the open flesh to feel it out. This seems to perk your patient up, Hyunjin jerks up on the table, screaming in agony and cursing the room. The good news is the wound isn’t as deep as you feared.
“Hold him down!” you yell and both men scramble to steady him. “Changbin? The knife?”
“Um,” Changbin shakes his head, “Small, smooth, no more than ten centimeters I’d say.”
Hyunjin gasps and goes eerily still on the table.
“___?” Felix cries, you can hear the fear in his voice.
“It’s okay, he’s responding to pain and that’s good, but he’s going to slip in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss,” you explain but you still see the fear on Felixes face, “Why don’t you tell me what happened Felix?”
He looks at you, eyes wide with fear and you give him a shaky but reassuring smile and a nod of encouragement, “We were ambushed. It was just supposed to be a collection run, so only the three of us went. As soon as we walked into their storehouse bullets were flying. Hyunjin knocked the gun out of the guys hand and he pulled a blade out of his boot as a backup,” Felix adds, “He stabbed Hyunjin but he got in one last punch that knocked the bastard out cold,” he smiles proudly.
“Was Hyunjin significantly taller than the man?” you wonder.
“Definitely,” Changbin nods, “Why does it matter?”
“Because it appears that the man stabbed into his side at a difficult upward angle, which prevented it from going in deep. That’s good, because that means it probably bypassed any of his organs. Felix, bring my stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff please, over on the end table.”
Felix runs over and you cautiously release the gauze. To your relief the bleeding seems to have at least slowed to a manageable rate.
You stuff the stethoscope in your ears and try to ascertain some vitals now that he seems stable(ish). His heart rate is lower than normal, but his lungs sound clear. Pupils are responding to light slowly but normally, and his blood pressure is low but stable. You grab his hand and press on his fingernails, O2 seems fine.
“What now?” Felix asks.
“I’ll need you two to lift him up a bit, I’ve got the wound packed but I’ll need to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep the packing in place, then, in an hour or so, if we’re lucky the bleeding will have stopped completely and I can clean him up and stitch it,” you say shakily.
The boys do as they’re told and you carefully wrap the bandage around him, making sure the wound is secured.
A knock pounds at the door as you lay him back down on the table, the three of you exchange glances and Changbin pulls the 9mm from his strap and makes his way toward the door with Felix tiptoeing behind as backup.
“It’s me,” a voice hollers from the other side and your little trio breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Lee Minho, obviously coming to check on one of his best.
Changbin opens the door and sweeps the front yard with his eyes for good measure before closing up again.
“How is he?” Minho stands over Hyunjins still body as you discard your gloves in a nearby bin.
“He’s lost quite a lot of blood, if we were at the hospital I’d imagine they’d call for a transfusion, which is impossible here - but if I can get him stable, he might pull through the blood loss thing. The wound wasn’t as deep as I thought it would be, but it’s quite a bleeder, so right now my primary focus is to make sure it’s completely stopped before sewing him up,” you explain.
Minho nods, and you watch as he quietly assesses the situation, considering his next move. You don’t know Hyunjin as well as some of the others. You do know he’s careful, cautious and very good at his job. The fact he was nearly bested this evening has you surprised, so you can only imagine the shock of the man standing in front of you. Minho taps his finger gently against his lips, then drags his hand across his mouth in frustration.
“I want retaliation for this,” he says quietly, darkly.
“Absolutely,” Changbin nods, “The motherfucker who did this has numbered days.”
“Find him,” Minho commands, “Find everyone who was there, I don’t care if you have to go to their homes where their god damned kids sleep, you find them, I want intel on them all, and we’ll go over it together. We’ll figure out who we can use for information, and who we’re going to,” he stops himself then and looks at you gently, “Well, who won’t be of any value to us.”
You appreciate the attempt at guarded candor, but you already know he means to murder them all. Knowing Minho, and how he probably feels he’s been screwed over tonight, he’s going to kill the valuable ones too - once he knows what he needs to know.
“I’m going to go wash up,” you say softly, “He should be alright for now. I’ll check him after I’m done. If anything happens just yell.”
When you’re safely closed off in the bathroom, you take the first calm breath since the phone rang, waking you from a dreamless sleep. You stare at yourself in the mirror and realize in addition to being covered in blood, you also still wear the black silk nightgown you wore to bed. You scoff, looking down at yourself, the lace hem falls across the top of your thighs, sticking to the skin with blood, and one thin strap hangs off your shoulder. You look like a dumpster fire. Your hair is in shambles as well. You start to take it down and decide to toss the nightie in the trash when the door to your bathroom opens. Minho.
“I sent Felix and Bin off, I need them to cool down a bit, they’re pretty keyed up,” he says, playing with the bottles and boxes on your bathroom vanity. “I’ve sent for Seungmin to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while as protection, I’ll stick around until he arrives of course.”
You clear your throat, “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he whispers. He moves to stand behind you and you stare at each other in the reflection of the mirror. He takes two fingers and caresses your arm, hooking the rogue strap of your nightie and pulling it back into place on your shoulder. His other hand roams your figure, over your breast, down your ribs and waist, and stops on your hip as he gives it a gentle squeeze - never once taking his eyes off yours in the mirror. You say nothing, you don’t move.
“You look like a scared animal,” he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your hair off your neck, exposing it. His lips move in, his breath on the delicate skin, and he looks at your reflection once more, “Hm?”
You realize he’s asking for permission and you nod. His lips land right under your ear, his fingers spreading across your throat to gently pull you into him. You don’t stop the soft breath that escapes your lips and your hand flies to cover his as he continues to rub and squeeze your hip.
You’ve almost lost yourself in him, when you open your eyes and realize he’s spreading the blood on your arm around.
“Wait,” you gasp and jump away.
“What?” he frowns, and you see the flicker of rejection flash in his dark eyes, but he decides to suppress any reaction to it.
“You’re getting blood all over you,” you point to his hand, “I really do need to wash up and check on Hyunjin. I’ll need to monitor him constantly tonight to make sure there’s no change,” you say politely.
“Are you that scared of me, Kitten?” he asks, leaning over your sink to rinse Hyunjins blood away.
“I’m not scared of you Minho,” you tell him, and it’s mostly true, kind of. “You’ve been in my bed enough times that I think you know I’m not scared of you.”
“Yet you always send me away after,” he sighs, shaking the excess water from his hands. “It makes me wonder if maybe you only let me into your bed because you think you don’t have a choice, you know, due to our arrangement,” he motions broadly at the room.
You can easily see how he’d come to that conclusion. When you accepted his offer you went very swiftly from working your ass to the bone, on no sleep, in a shoebox of an apartment, with debt up to your eyeballs straight to having everything paid off, a credit card with essentially no limit, a huge, beautiful house on the edge of the city bought and paid for, and anything your heart desired. All of it was taken care of by him. So, yes, you could see how one might think you allow him to do whatever he wants just to keep things copacetic for him.
“Do you want honesty?” you ask, reaching into the shower to adjust the water.
“From my employees? I demand it, yes,” he nods. Well, there it is, you think. He looks at you as an employee, and you also look at him as your employer. The situation is so beyond wildly fucked that you’ve truly got no idea what you’re doing or why.
“I let you into my bed because I’m lonely, and you make me feel…not alone,” you tell him. “It has nothing to do with our arrangement. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”
“Good,” he nods, “but why are you lonely? You’re not my prisoner, you are free to come and go as you please, with the caveat of you being available when I need you, and for you to keep what you know and have seen to yourself.”
“I know that,” you allow your nightgown to fall to the floor, “What I don’t know yet is how to compartmentalize my normal life with this life, how to live them separately. How to be normal out there, and business here. So until I do, well, you don’t seem to mind my using you for human connection.”
“That’s understandable and I don’t mind at all,” he licks his lips as you slide your panties down and off your legs, “I know this was a big change for you, and I understand that what I ask of you is taxing, that what you see and hear is sometimes unfathomable.”
You cross over to him, naked, skin streaked with another persons blood, “Thank you for understanding,” you say, and kiss him, pulling him into you by his collar. His fingers slide down your stomach and slide between your slick. You whimper into his mouth as he pulls away.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them with a grin, “Wash up Kitten, but next time you don’t have one of my men bleeding on your dining room table, you’re mine.”
You wait for him to close the door before you step into the water. You watch the white floor of the shower turn into red swirls being pulled down the drain. You scrub and scrub your skin until it feels raw, wash your hair in case any blood made its way up there to dry out in the strands. You dry off, moisturize and put on comfortable clothes - a pair of old scrub pants and a tee shirt you don’t care about. You pull your wet hair tight out of your face and then pick up your ruined night dress, tossing it into the bathroom trash on your way out the door.
When you return downstairs you see Seungmin sitting in a recliner in the living room, scrolling his phone. Hyunjin continues to lay still on the dining table, and you walk over to check his vitals again, catching Seungmins attention.
“Good evening,” he nods stiffly and you give him a wry smile.
“Where did Min- Where did Mr. Lee go?” you ask him as you wrap the BP cuff around Hyunjins arm.
“He left. You don’t need to know where,” he answers you with an uninterested cadence, not looking up from his phone.
“Right,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Of course.”
Hyunjins blood pressure is back to normal, albeit a tad low, but well in the realm of being acceptable. Resting heart rate has returned to the low 70’s, which is also a good sign. You finger the bandage at his side and it’s a relief to find that so far, no blood has seeped through the packing. That is indeed very good progress.
As you fix his bandage back a hand flies up, landing over yours and you jump, looking up just in time to see his eyes flutter open.
“Hey there,” you say softly, “How do you feel?”
“Like I got stabbed in a back alley,” he chuckles and lifts his head but immediately winces at the pain and collapses back onto the table with a painful sounding thud.
“Be very still,” you place your palm against his stomach softly. “You did get stabbed in a back alley and you’re far from ready to move around.”
“Changbin and Felix?” he rasps.
“They’re fine,” you answer, “They brought you here but Mr. Lee sent them home for the night, they were both very worried about you.”
“But they’re fine?” he looks at you seriously and you nod.
“Totally fine Hyunjin.”
He shakes his head, “Those motherfuckers have to be the dumbest in the entire country. We weren’t even there for any rifts, we just needed to collect the monthly gun sales. I knew when we walked in something was off, everyone felt so nervous, I should’ve turned tail and gotten Bin and Felix out as soon as I felt it.”
“She doesn’t need to know any of this, you ought to keep your mouth shut,” Seungmin calls from the living room.
Hyunjin smirks, “Why’d they send the mean, strict grandpa? I almost died, I at least deserve Jeongin or Jisung.”
You say nothing, but suppress a laugh and shrug your shoulders.
Hyunjin wiggles around feeling his pants pockets and produces a square brass cigarette case.
“Got a light Doll?” he places one between his lips and you walk to the kitchen for a lighter.
“As your primary care professional, I don’t really recommend this right now,” you say dryly, but light it for him and allow it.
“I’ve been a good patient though,” he sticks out his lower lip and you roll your eyes.
“I suppose,” you say.
“So when can I get out of here?” he asks between puffs.
You scoff, “Well. If we were in a hospital and I could send you for bloodwork and images and definitively rule out any organ damage, I could send you home a lot sooner. As it is,” you think for a moment, trying to be both medically practical but also realistic to what Minho will expect. “As it is, I need to watch you for at least three days. I’ll need to monitor your wound, obviously, but also any sign of infection like swelling or fever. If that happens it could be because the blade nicked something it shouldn’t have, like your intestines for example, or that the wound itself is trying to go septic.”
“Ew,” he grimaces.
“Exactly.”
“And will I have to bunk on this very nice, but extremely uncomfortable table during that time? Not gonna lie Doll, I’m getting pretty stiff, and not in the fun way,” he jokes.
“No,” you laugh, “Seungmin and I will help you to the guest room in a bit. First I’d like to unpack your wound, make sure the major bleeding stopped, and stitch you. Then I’ll clean you up and put a new bandage on, after that you can go to a real bed.”
“Stitches huh?” he blows out a big puff of smoke. “Is that, uh…you know, going to hurt?”
You grin, “Well, it won’t feel amazing, but it probably doesn’t hurt any worse than getting stabbed, and now we know you can handle that.”
“Right,” he chuckles.
“I’ll try and see if I have any more topical anesthetic in my supplies,” you pat his leg sympathetically.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“Fuck! It hurts…” Hyunjin grumbles, you pause your needle as he flinches and bites down hard on his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, I’m almost done,” you tell him, going back to it, “aside from me sewing you up, how do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” he says shakily, you can see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and forehead, see his fingers shaking between weak grips on the edge of the table.
“Cute, acting tough like that,” you click your teeth, “Now, how about you tell me the truth? I can’t treat you properly if you’re not honest about your symptoms.”
He looks down at you, despite his current state, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.
“I feel like shit, there, you happy now?” he pouts.
From the corner of the room Seungmin sighs, “She needs you to be specific, idiot.”
“Why are you speaking?” Hyunjin snaps at him and you see Seungmin stiffen, face defiant, but you notice he sinks lower into the recliner and goes back to his phone.
“He’s right,” you say quietly, finishing up the stitches, “I need to know if anything’s hurting, burning or itching from head to toe,” you stand up and help him lie back down on the table, carefully holding his head in your hands. This brings your faces closer together, closer than you’d ever been to Hyunjin, and you can’t help but notice the sweetness of his face, the wild innocence of his dark eyes. He meets your gaze with the same intensity and you have to look away.
“So how about it?” you clear your throat, “How are you really feeling?”
“My head is pounding, I feel like I could drink ten gallons of water, my side is burning where you just sewed my guts back in, and I feel like I couldn’t lift a feather without passing out. That good enough for you sweetheart?” he half laughs, then winces.
“Yes, actually,” you quip, “The headache and weakness are both from the blood loss, I’ll get you some pain meds, and you can slowly start to drink some ice water for the dry mouth, I also want you on antibiotics, and Seungmin can help me get you to bed so you can rest.”
You gesture to Seungmin, “I went ahead and pulled the covers down, I just need you to help me get him on the bed,” you instruct.
Seungmin saunters over and Hyunjin reluctantly puts his arm around Seungmins neck, “Ouch! Fuck!” he cries and you look up from where you’re putting his feet on the floor.
“Maybe support the side he doesn’t have a stab wound on boys?” you point to Hyunjins right side.
“Right,” Seungmin grumbles.
Getting Hyunjin from the dining room just down the hall to the bedroom proves to be quite difficult, despite the trip only being maybe twenty, twenty-five steps. The journey takes every bit of his energy and when he hits the mattress with a painful sounding thud he’s out again.
“Is he going to make it?” Seungmin stands back and somehow looks both concerned and unbothered by Hyunjins pitiful state.
“Yes,” you nod, “He needs to rehydrate, and rest. When he wakes up I’ll get him some pain medication, start some antibiotics, and get some fluids in him. Will you run down to the store and get a case of some kind of sports drink? He’ll need the sodium.”
“No.”
“Pardon?” you turn to Seungmin.
“My orders aren’t to do your shopping, my orders are to stay here and protect the safe house,” he answers seriously.
“For fucks sake Seungmin,” you sigh, “loosen up. I’ll grab my keys and be right back,” you tell him, “but if he wakes up and needs something urgent you’re on your own and whatever happens will be on you.”
“Then I’ll deal with it. Just because you fuck the boss doesn’t make you the matriarch of the organization,” he says flatly.
You freeze, your mouth setting into a tight, defensive line. You fight the urge to slap him, you know that he’ll hit you back and his fist most definitely packs a bigger punch.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Hyunjin says weakly from the bed, Seungmin nearly jumps out of his skin.
“It’s the truth,” Seungmin challenges softly.
“That’s not how you talk to someone who does so much for us, and besides I’d hate for that nasty remark to get back to Minho, you won’t be doing protection details for a while, I guarantee you that,” Hyunjin threatens.
Seungmin huffs and starts to stalk out of the room.
“You’re forgetting something,” Hyunjin says, weakly lifting a finger and pointing at you. “Apologize.”
Seungmins eyes narrow with rage, “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth.
“It’s fine,” you sigh, knowing he doesn’t really mean it and also knowing that you don’t really give a shit if he does or not. “I’m going to get some things for Hyunjin, you boys play nice.”
You don’t give either of them the opportunity to respond, you just head for the door. You wait until you’re in the privacy of your own car, well, Minho’s car, before you cry.
Seungmins words cut deep, both embarrassing and insulting. You hadn’t really thought about anyone noticing that sometimes Minho slips away upstairs to your bedroom and because of that oversight you’d never really thought about how it would feel for others to know, and to comment on it. It feels lousy, turns out. It makes you feel cheap, and it makes you feel wrong.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
It’s almost daylight before Hyunjin wakes again. He slept through almost every vital check, and at the most would only stir in his sleep when you put the cuff around his arm or the cold stethoscope against his chest.
“What are you reading?” his voice pulls your attention from the page and you wiggle around in your seat, joints and muscles stiff from hours of sitting.
“It’s just a silly romance novel, nothing life changing,” you tell him, setting the book down. “Here, you need to drink,” you hand him a cup of blue Gatorade, a bit watery from the melted ice.
Hyunjin attempts to sit up but winces, “Never really thought about how much I use these muscles,” his smile is twisted with pain, but you’re impressed with his positivity.
“Here,” you stand up and reach around to fluff his pillows up so he’s propped. “How does that feel?”
“God you smell good,” he says softly, his nose centimeters away from your sternum, right between your breasts.
“Thanks,” you sit back down quickly.
Hyunjin watches silently, sipping the blue beverage as you make a ruckus on the side table shaking pills out of bottles.
“What’s all that?” he asks.
“Your meds, since you’re up and lucid I want you to go ahead and take some,” you tell him, handing him two pills to take.
“Can I at least know what I’m taking?” he chuckles, rolling them around his palm.
“The smaller white one is an Oxycodone, for the pain, and the big one is Cephalexin, an antibiotic just in case,” you explain.
He tosses the Oxy back onto the table and pops the antibiotic into his mouth. Off of your stare he shrugs, “I don’t take pain killers, used to have a bad problem with pills.”
“Oh, well, it’s mainly just Acetaminophen, I think this one is 800mg and only 200mg of oxy. I think wherever your boss gets my drugs - they keep the hard stuff. I’d like you to take something, for your head and for the wound, but if you don’t want to I can’t make you obviously,” you say, standing up.
“I’m fine sweetheart,” he lays his head back down on the pillows, and puts the empty cup on the table. “I like a little pain,” he winks.
“Suit yourself,” you grab your book and start out of the room.
“Hey, where are you going?” he calls.
“Just giving you some privacy to rest,” you shrug.
“Read to me,” he gestures towards your chair.
“You’re kidding?” you snort.
“I’ve slept all night, and I’m bored,” he pouts, “Please?”
You huff and plant your ass back into the chair, deciding not to point out that he may have slept all night but you haven’t.
“You really want to sit here and listen to my silly romance?”
“Absolutely.”
You sigh and open your book to the page you dogeared a few moments ago. To be frank you can’t remember what was happening, you’d zoned out and the words weren’t exactly sticking. You scan the page to find anything familiar.
You freeze. Oh good Lord.
“Why are you blushing?” he laughs.
“I just…it’s…it’s sort of at a spicy part,” you squirm.
“Nice, lay it on me,” he grins.
“Jesus…” you shake your head and clear your throat.
“...Scooping her into my arms, I lavish kisses on her mouth and neck. We strip each other bare, our love making frenzied. I make sure she orgasms before me, holding back until her body achieves its release. Right before I come I whisper “I love you” between each breath before my mind goes blank with pleasure. As we lie across my-,”
“That’s it??” Hyunjin scoffs.
“What’s it?” you look up at him.
“That’s supposed to be spicy? That’s barely salted!” he chuckles.
“Well, I suppose it’s meant to not be super detailed, leave a bit to the imagination,” you answer.
“That’s lazy,” he shakes his head.
“Well what would you have written then?” you challenge, closing the book and crossing your legs.
“I don’t know, I’m no writer,” he falters, “but I would’ve written something about how she feels, how it feels to push into her - tight and wet and warm. What she tastes like - from her lipstick, to her skin, to her cunt.”
You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.
“They could’ve at least described her noises, how playing with her in different ways makes her sound different, what her tits look like when I’m fucking her, bouncing fast or slow. I don’t know, something with a little actual spice,” he shrugs.
“Well write a book then,” you say before he can go into any more detail.
“I’m just saying, they could’ve painted a better picture, fucking is supposed to be fun, that sounded boring as hell,” he scoffs, “Who ever actually whispers “I love you” when they’re fucking?”
“I don’t know, I guess people who love each other,” you grumble.
“Yeah? Is that what Boss man says to you?” he teases. It’s not the same menacing tone that Seungmin had taken with you concerning Minho, and you can tell by the lightness of Hyunjins eyes he doesn’t mean anything by it, but God, these men. They all need to be lined up and slapped across the face. You’re sick of it. Sick of the power struggle. In every situation, in every conversation they have to feel like they’re holding the power. You let Seungmins comments roll off your back and ignored them like a coward earlier, but Hyunjin will likely be here a few days and you need to establish that you won’t back down again, you can fight fire with fire.
So you straighten up and look him dead in the eyes, “No. When Minho fucks me he pulls my hair and slaps my ass and calls me his gorgeous little slut while his cum drips out of my mouth.”
Hyunjins mouth turns into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen and his eyes go wide as he points to you, “Now that is a goddamn page turner.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes as you stand up and straighten yourself out, “Okay, storytime is over, I’m going to get a little sleep. Try to rest. I’ll make you some breakfast in a bit.”
“Okay,” he nods and settles back into the mattress, as you go to switch the lights he looks at you, his head cocking to the side a bit, “Do you like that though? The rough and ragged and dirty stuff?”
You shrug, “Sometimes, I guess. Sometimes though…I don’t know… I think I’d like someone to whisper how much they love me, it sounds nice.”
He nods, then looks back up at you, “I’m sorry, I won’t comment on you and Lee anymore.”
“See you later Hyunjin.”
Too tired to even attempt walking up the stairs you drag yourself over to the sofa and collapse.
Seungmin sits in his recliner nearby and blinks at you.
You point to the blanket folded over the back of his chair, “Will you hand-,”
He balls up the blanket and throws it, pegging your face with a smirk. You shoot him a death glare before covering yourself up and sinking into the cushions. You try not to think about his earlier comments regarding Minho. You try not to think about Minho. You especially try not to think about dirty talk with Hyunjin, or how it stirred something within you that you absolutely must not allow to grow.
Endnotes:
1. Tentatively tagging my Minho lovers - @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @simpforleeknaur @moni-logues - because Minho will be centric to the story. However, if you do not want to be tagged for any reason just DM me and I’ll remove you, no worries at all 💙🥰 Alternatively, if you’re seeing this and want to be added to the tag list just let me know somehow!
2. As usual, here’s your virtual smooch for making it this far. Mafia is soooo far out of my wheelhouse and honestly even though this chapter is super unbeta’d - I may have future chapters looked at bc I’m not really sure I’m hitting the mark. Any feedback on it would be swell, just be gentle with me 😂👍
I always say I’m not partial to mafia fics, but then I realize that I actually devour so many mafia fanfics and some of my all time favorite fics are mafia AUs… I’m just a big fat liar 😂😂 I love them, I just need to accept it. I’m really glad you read mine, and that you liked it and took the time to say so 🥰🫂
Safe.
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Me not knowing a single thing about medicine and relying on Google to give me accurate-ish information and the hope that I'm kind of explaining it correctly but knowing I'm probably not, so apologies to any reader who may work in medicine and is rolling their eyes at me lol. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 6k
AN: I have never ever in my life written a mafia fic, at least nothing I’ve ever posted or kept so…good luck. Additionally, this fic was originally all one doc which ended up being too much to handle, like Tumblr would not even try to meet me halfway. So I decided to break her up into chapters which I will post routinely until she's over. No idea how many chapters bc I’m still deciding on how to separate some of the later parts of the story…so hang tight with me.
-PART ONE-
It’s the blare of a phone ringing that wakes you in the middle of the night. You pull yourself to the edge of the bed and look at the two phones that lay on your bedside table. One is personal, in a shiny black case that in truth, hardly ever rings or blips anymore. The other is a silver phone, caseless, a little worse for the wear and the screen is illuminated with an unsaved telephone number. This particular detail doesn’t really matter, there’s only a few people who would be calling it, and they cycle through burner phones so often there’s no point in saving anything.
“Hello?” your voice is scratchy from sleep.
“We’re ten minutes out,” Changbin says urgently, skipping greetings entirely. You sit up and throw your feet over the edge of the bed.
“Who is it and how bad?” you ask, flitting around your bedroom switching lights on and grabbing a hair tie.
“It’s Hyunjin, and I don’t think he’s going to die but I can’t stop the bleeding,” Changbin grunts.
“Gun shot?” you assume, already downstairs and clearing the dining table, wondering what kind of trauma you need to prepare for.
“Stabbed.”
“Fuck,” you stop. Possibilities like artery and organ punctures start spinning around your head. You pray it’s not abdominal, but you know these men too well so you don’t ask, because you’re sure you already know the answer.
“We can’t take him to an ER, ___, his face is on every list in the city. You know they always keep informants in the emergency departments, we can’t take him there,” Changbin urges and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
He’s correct. When Lee Minho, crime lord and your current employer first found you, you were working the night shift at the emergency department. You knew that because of the high crime rate in the city, many of the staff who sat at the check in and triage stations were also paid police informants, ready to dial up the officers to run any names or faces that looked sketchy, had a shady story, or came in with GSWs, or similar combative injuries.
“Okay. Okay, keep direct pressure on the wound and I mean a lot of pressure Changbin, it’s going to feel like you’re hurting him but trust me, lots of pressure. I’ll prep the dining room,” you tell him.
You take a deep breath and think. You start a pot of boiling water and lay out some clean towels on the counter. Then fly around the room opening drawers: Gloves, scissors, gauze, bandages, wound packing strips, disinfectant, antibiotics, stitch kit, and the silent prayer that no arteries, or internal organs have been compromised because you are not a surgeon and you will have to send them out to a hospital, which is more time wasted and gives Hyunjin a significantly lower survival chance.
You weigh a clean sheet down over the table just as you hear tires squeal into the driveway outside. You run to the door and unlock it, propping it open so they can carry him in.
“It’s bad ___, he’s out cold,” Felix grunts breathlessly as he and Changbin carry an unconscious Hyunjin into the room. All three are covered in blood and you don’t bother asking if it’s Hyunjins, theirs, or someone else's. The two of them are walking, conscious and breathing, so it doesn’t matter at the moment.
“Okay, it’ll be okay,” you blather in a much higher tone than you mean to.
You don the gloves and grab the scissors, cutting up the seams of Hyunjins black satin shirt, soaked with blood. Changbin keeps his hand pressed to Hyunjins left side, a balled up tee shirt gripped in his shaking fist.
“Bin,” you say softly, “I need to cut the shirt away, okay? When I say three I want you to pull your hand off,” you explain and he nods, “Felix, I need you to bring the pot of water and those clean towels from the kitchen in here for me,” you instruct.
You look at Hyunjins sweet face, ghastly pale, and lips several shades lighter than what they ought to be. He’s clearly lost a lot of blood and you briefly think of a transfusion, but have no way of performing one - most of these men have no idea what blood type they are anyway but even if they did you don’t have the means to do it.
“Okay,” you breathe deeply once the shirt is mostly gone, the scent of iron and copper floods your nose, “One…two…three.”
Changbin pulls the balled up, blood soaked cloth from the wound and you watch as the thick, red substance trickles out while you finish off the shirt. You hear Changbin gasp and curse under his breath.
“It’s okay,” you say, “That’s a fairly good sign, see how it’s a slow trickle and not a burst or spurt? That’s a good sign,” you repeat for him, grabbing a handful of gauze to press into the wound.
Changbin nods and backs away.
“No, no,” you stop him, “Go wash your hands, put some gloves on and come back here, Felix, you do the same. Quickly.”
The two men disperse to do as they’re told and you hold the gauze in place with one hand, wetting a towel to clean off the area with the other so you can see what you’re working on better. It’s on his left side, above his hip in the small of his waist. That significantly decreases the number of organs possibly punctured. Left kidney, lung, and/or possible intestinal damage - none of which are good news, but that will make it easier to look for tell tale signs, which as of right now you don’t see.
Changbin and Felix return, gloved up and ready to assist as you work diligently to stop the bleeding by packing the wound.
“How long was the blade?” you ask as you work. You stick your fingertip into the open flesh to feel it out. This seems to perk your patient up, Hyunjin jerks up on the table, screaming in agony and cursing the room. The good news is the wound isn’t as deep as you feared.
“Hold him down!” you yell and both men scramble to steady him. “Changbin? The knife?”
“Um,” Changbin shakes his head, “Small, smooth, no more than ten centimeters I’d say.”
Hyunjin gasps and goes eerily still on the table.
“___?” Felix cries, you can hear the fear in his voice.
“It’s okay, he’s responding to pain and that’s good, but he’s going to slip in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss,” you explain but you still see the fear on Felixes face, “Why don’t you tell me what happened Felix?”
He looks at you, eyes wide with fear and you give him a shaky but reassuring smile and a nod of encouragement, “We were ambushed. It was just supposed to be a collection run, so only the three of us went. As soon as we walked into their storehouse bullets were flying. Hyunjin knocked the gun out of the guys hand and he pulled a blade out of his boot as a backup,” Felix adds, “He stabbed Hyunjin but he got in one last punch that knocked the bastard out cold,” he smiles proudly.
“Was Hyunjin significantly taller than the man?” you wonder.
“Definitely,” Changbin nods, “Why does it matter?”
“Because it appears that the man stabbed into his side at a difficult upward angle, which prevented it from going in deep. That’s good, because that means it probably bypassed any of his organs. Felix, bring my stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff please, over on the end table.”
Felix runs over and you cautiously release the gauze. To your relief the bleeding seems to have at least slowed to a manageable rate.
You stuff the stethoscope in your ears and try to ascertain some vitals now that he seems stable(ish). His heart rate is lower than normal, but his lungs sound clear. Pupils are responding to light slowly but normally, and his blood pressure is low but stable. You grab his hand and press on his fingernails, O2 seems fine.
“What now?” Felix asks.
“I’ll need you two to lift him up a bit, I’ve got the wound packed but I’ll need to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep the packing in place, then, in an hour or so, if we’re lucky the bleeding will have stopped completely and I can clean him up and stitch it,” you say shakily.
The boys do as they’re told and you carefully wrap the bandage around him, making sure the wound is secured.
A knock pounds at the door as you lay him back down on the table, the three of you exchange glances and Changbin pulls the 9mm from his strap and makes his way toward the door with Felix tiptoeing behind as backup.
“It’s me,” a voice hollers from the other side and your little trio breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Lee Minho, obviously coming to check on one of his best.
Changbin opens the door and sweeps the front yard with his eyes for good measure before closing up again.
“How is he?” Minho stands over Hyunjins still body as you discard your gloves in a nearby bin.
“He’s lost quite a lot of blood, if we were at the hospital I’d imagine they’d call for a transfusion, which is impossible here - but if I can get him stable, he might pull through the blood loss thing. The wound wasn’t as deep as I thought it would be, but it’s quite a bleeder, so right now my primary focus is to make sure it’s completely stopped before sewing him up,” you explain.
Minho nods, and you watch as he quietly assesses the situation, considering his next move. You don’t know Hyunjin as well as some of the others. You do know he’s careful, cautious and very good at his job. The fact he was nearly bested this evening has you surprised, so you can only imagine the shock of the man standing in front of you. Minho taps his finger gently against his lips, then drags his hand across his mouth in frustration.
“I want retaliation for this,” he says quietly, darkly.
“Absolutely,” Changbin nods, “The motherfucker who did this has numbered days.”
“Find him,” Minho commands, “Find everyone who was there, I don’t care if you have to go to their homes where their god damned kids sleep, you find them, I want intel on them all, and we’ll go over it together. We’ll figure out who we can use for information, and who we’re going to,” he stops himself then and looks at you gently, “Well, who won’t be of any value to us.”
You appreciate the attempt at guarded candor, but you already know he means to murder them all. Knowing Minho, and how he probably feels he’s been screwed over tonight, he’s going to kill the valuable ones too - once he knows what he needs to know.
“I’m going to go wash up,” you say softly, “He should be alright for now. I’ll check him after I’m done. If anything happens just yell.”
When you’re safely closed off in the bathroom, you take the first calm breath since the phone rang, waking you from a dreamless sleep. You stare at yourself in the mirror and realize in addition to being covered in blood, you also still wear the black silk nightgown you wore to bed. You scoff, looking down at yourself, the lace hem falls across the top of your thighs, sticking to the skin with blood, and one thin strap hangs off your shoulder. You look like a dumpster fire. Your hair is in shambles as well. You start to take it down and decide to toss the nightie in the trash when the door to your bathroom opens. Minho.
“I sent Felix and Bin off, I need them to cool down a bit, they’re pretty keyed up,” he says, playing with the bottles and boxes on your bathroom vanity. “I’ve sent for Seungmin to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while as protection, I’ll stick around until he arrives of course.”
You clear your throat, “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he whispers. He moves to stand behind you and you stare at each other in the reflection of the mirror. He takes two fingers and caresses your arm, hooking the rogue strap of your nightie and pulling it back into place on your shoulder. His other hand roams your figure, over your breast, down your ribs and waist, and stops on your hip as he gives it a gentle squeeze - never once taking his eyes off yours in the mirror. You say nothing, you don’t move.
“You look like a scared animal,” he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your hair off your neck, exposing it. His lips move in, his breath on the delicate skin, and he looks at your reflection once more, “Hm?”
You realize he’s asking for permission and you nod. His lips land right under your ear, his fingers spreading across your throat to gently pull you into him. You don’t stop the soft breath that escapes your lips and your hand flies to cover his as he continues to rub and squeeze your hip.
You’ve almost lost yourself in him, when you open your eyes and realize he’s spreading the blood on your arm around.
“Wait,” you gasp and jump away.
“What?” he frowns, and you see the flicker of rejection flash in his dark eyes, but he decides to suppress any reaction to it.
“You’re getting blood all over you,” you point to his hand, “I really do need to wash up and check on Hyunjin. I’ll need to monitor him constantly tonight to make sure there’s no change,” you say politely.
“Are you that scared of me, Kitten?” he asks, leaning over your sink to rinse Hyunjins blood away.
“I’m not scared of you Minho,” you tell him, and it’s mostly true, kind of. “You’ve been in my bed enough times that I think you know I’m not scared of you.”
“Yet you always send me away after,” he sighs, shaking the excess water from his hands. “It makes me wonder if maybe you only let me into your bed because you think you don’t have a choice, you know, due to our arrangement,” he motions broadly at the room.
You can easily see how he’d come to that conclusion. When you accepted his offer you went very swiftly from working your ass to the bone, on no sleep, in a shoebox of an apartment, with debt up to your eyeballs straight to having everything paid off, a credit card with essentially no limit, a huge, beautiful house on the edge of the city bought and paid for, and anything your heart desired. All of it was taken care of by him. So, yes, you could see how one might think you allow him to do whatever he wants just to keep things copacetic for him.
“Do you want honesty?” you ask, reaching into the shower to adjust the water.
“From my employees? I demand it, yes,” he nods. Well, there it is, you think. He looks at you as an employee, and you also look at him as your employer. The situation is so beyond wildly fucked that you’ve truly got no idea what you’re doing or why.
“I let you into my bed because I’m lonely, and you make me feel…not alone,” you tell him. “It has nothing to do with our arrangement. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”
“Good,” he nods, “but why are you lonely? You’re not my prisoner, you are free to come and go as you please, with the caveat of you being available when I need you, and for you to keep what you know and have seen to yourself.”
“I know that,” you allow your nightgown to fall to the floor, “What I don’t know yet is how to compartmentalize my normal life with this life, how to live them separately. How to be normal out there, and business here. So until I do, well, you don’t seem to mind my using you for human connection.”
“That’s understandable and I don’t mind at all,” he licks his lips as you slide your panties down and off your legs, “I know this was a big change for you, and I understand that what I ask of you is taxing, that what you see and hear is sometimes unfathomable.”
You cross over to him, naked, skin streaked with another persons blood, “Thank you for understanding,” you say, and kiss him, pulling him into you by his collar. His fingers slide down your stomach and slide between your slick. You whimper into his mouth as he pulls away.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them with a grin, “Wash up Kitten, but next time you don’t have one of my men bleeding on your dining room table, you’re mine.”
You wait for him to close the door before you step into the water. You watch the white floor of the shower turn into red swirls being pulled down the drain. You scrub and scrub your skin until it feels raw, wash your hair in case any blood made its way up there to dry out in the strands. You dry off, moisturize and put on comfortable clothes - a pair of old scrub pants and a tee shirt you don’t care about. You pull your wet hair tight out of your face and then pick up your ruined night dress, tossing it into the bathroom trash on your way out the door.
When you return downstairs you see Seungmin sitting in a recliner in the living room, scrolling his phone. Hyunjin continues to lay still on the dining table, and you walk over to check his vitals again, catching Seungmins attention.
“Good evening,” he nods stiffly and you give him a wry smile.
“Where did Min- Where did Mr. Lee go?” you ask him as you wrap the BP cuff around Hyunjins arm.
“He left. You don’t need to know where,” he answers you with an uninterested cadence, not looking up from his phone.
“Right,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Of course.”
Hyunjins blood pressure is back to normal, albeit a tad low, but well in the realm of being acceptable. Resting heart rate has returned to the low 70’s, which is also a good sign. You finger the bandage at his side and it’s a relief to find that so far, no blood has seeped through the packing. That is indeed very good progress.
As you fix his bandage back a hand flies up, landing over yours and you jump, looking up just in time to see his eyes flutter open.
“Hey there,” you say softly, “How do you feel?”
“Like I got stabbed in a back alley,” he chuckles and lifts his head but immediately winces at the pain and collapses back onto the table with a painful sounding thud.
“Be very still,” you place your palm against his stomach softly. “You did get stabbed in a back alley and you’re far from ready to move around.”
“Changbin and Felix?” he rasps.
“They’re fine,” you answer, “They brought you here but Mr. Lee sent them home for the night, they were both very worried about you.”
“But they’re fine?” he looks at you seriously and you nod.
“Totally fine Hyunjin.”
He shakes his head, “Those motherfuckers have to be the dumbest in the entire country. We weren’t even there for any rifts, we just needed to collect the monthly gun sales. I knew when we walked in something was off, everyone felt so nervous, I should’ve turned tail and gotten Bin and Felix out as soon as I felt it.”
“She doesn’t need to know any of this, you ought to keep your mouth shut,” Seungmin calls from the living room.
Hyunjin smirks, “Why’d they send the mean, strict grandpa? I almost died, I at least deserve Jeongin or Jisung.”
You say nothing, but suppress a laugh and shrug your shoulders.
Hyunjin wiggles around feeling his pants pockets and produces a square brass cigarette case.
“Got a light Doll?” he places one between his lips and you walk to the kitchen for a lighter.
“As your primary care professional, I don’t really recommend this right now,” you say dryly, but light it for him and allow it.
“I’ve been a good patient though,” he sticks out his lower lip and you roll your eyes.
“I suppose,” you say.
“So when can I get out of here?” he asks between puffs.
You scoff, “Well. If we were in a hospital and I could send you for bloodwork and images and definitively rule out any organ damage, I could send you home a lot sooner. As it is,” you think for a moment, trying to be both medically practical but also realistic to what Minho will expect. “As it is, I need to watch you for at least three days. I’ll need to monitor your wound, obviously, but also any sign of infection like swelling or fever. If that happens it could be because the blade nicked something it shouldn’t have, like your intestines for example, or that the wound itself is trying to go septic.”
“Ew,” he grimaces.
“Exactly.”
“And will I have to bunk on this very nice, but extremely uncomfortable table during that time? Not gonna lie Doll, I’m getting pretty stiff, and not in the fun way,” he jokes.
“No,” you laugh, “Seungmin and I will help you to the guest room in a bit. First I’d like to unpack your wound, make sure the major bleeding stopped, and stitch you. Then I’ll clean you up and put a new bandage on, after that you can go to a real bed.”
“Stitches huh?” he blows out a big puff of smoke. “Is that, uh…you know, going to hurt?”
You grin, “Well, it won’t feel amazing, but it probably doesn’t hurt any worse than getting stabbed, and now we know you can handle that.”
“Right,” he chuckles.
“I’ll try and see if I have any more topical anesthetic in my supplies,” you pat his leg sympathetically.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“Fuck! It hurts…” Hyunjin grumbles, you pause your needle as he flinches and bites down hard on his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, I’m almost done,” you tell him, going back to it, “aside from me sewing you up, how do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” he says shakily, you can see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and forehead, see his fingers shaking between weak grips on the edge of the table.
“Cute, acting tough like that,” you click your teeth, “Now, how about you tell me the truth? I can’t treat you properly if you’re not honest about your symptoms.”
He looks down at you, despite his current state, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.
“I feel like shit, there, you happy now?” he pouts.
From the corner of the room Seungmin sighs, “She needs you to be specific, idiot.”
“Why are you speaking?” Hyunjin snaps at him and you see Seungmin stiffen, face defiant, but you notice he sinks lower into the recliner and goes back to his phone.
“He’s right,” you say quietly, finishing up the stitches, “I need to know if anything’s hurting, burning or itching from head to toe,” you stand up and help him lie back down on the table, carefully holding his head in your hands. This brings your faces closer together, closer than you’d ever been to Hyunjin, and you can’t help but notice the sweetness of his face, the wild innocence of his dark eyes. He meets your gaze with the same intensity and you have to look away.
“So how about it?” you clear your throat, “How are you really feeling?”
“My head is pounding, I feel like I could drink ten gallons of water, my side is burning where you just sewed my guts back in, and I feel like I couldn’t lift a feather without passing out. That good enough for you sweetheart?” he half laughs, then winces.
“Yes, actually,” you quip, “The headache and weakness are both from the blood loss, I’ll get you some pain meds, and you can slowly start to drink some ice water for the dry mouth, I also want you on antibiotics, and Seungmin can help me get you to bed so you can rest.”
You gesture to Seungmin, “I went ahead and pulled the covers down, I just need you to help me get him on the bed,” you instruct.
Seungmin saunters over and Hyunjin reluctantly puts his arm around Seungmins neck, “Ouch! Fuck!” he cries and you look up from where you’re putting his feet on the floor.
“Maybe support the side he doesn’t have a stab wound on boys?” you point to Hyunjins right side.
“Right,” Seungmin grumbles.
Getting Hyunjin from the dining room just down the hall to the bedroom proves to be quite difficult, despite the trip only being maybe twenty, twenty-five steps. The journey takes every bit of his energy and when he hits the mattress with a painful sounding thud he’s out again.
“Is he going to make it?” Seungmin stands back and somehow looks both concerned and unbothered by Hyunjins pitiful state.
“Yes,” you nod, “He needs to rehydrate, and rest. When he wakes up I’ll get him some pain medication, start some antibiotics, and get some fluids in him. Will you run down to the store and get a case of some kind of sports drink? He’ll need the sodium.”
“No.”
“Pardon?” you turn to Seungmin.
“My orders aren’t to do your shopping, my orders are to stay here and protect the safe house,” he answers seriously.
“For fucks sake Seungmin,” you sigh, “loosen up. I’ll grab my keys and be right back,” you tell him, “but if he wakes up and needs something urgent you’re on your own and whatever happens will be on you.”
“Then I’ll deal with it. Just because you fuck the boss doesn’t make you the matriarch of the organization,” he says flatly.
You freeze, your mouth setting into a tight, defensive line. You fight the urge to slap him, you know that he’ll hit you back and his fist most definitely packs a bigger punch.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Hyunjin says weakly from the bed, Seungmin nearly jumps out of his skin.
“It’s the truth,” Seungmin challenges softly.
“That’s not how you talk to someone who does so much for us, and besides I’d hate for that nasty remark to get back to Minho, you won’t be doing protection details for a while, I guarantee you that,” Hyunjin threatens.
Seungmin huffs and starts to stalk out of the room.
“You’re forgetting something,” Hyunjin says, weakly lifting a finger and pointing at you. “Apologize.”
Seungmins eyes narrow with rage, “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth.
“It’s fine,” you sigh, knowing he doesn’t really mean it and also knowing that you don’t really give a shit if he does or not. “I’m going to get some things for Hyunjin, you boys play nice.”
You don’t give either of them the opportunity to respond, you just head for the door. You wait until you’re in the privacy of your own car, well, Minho’s car, before you cry.
Seungmins words cut deep, both embarrassing and insulting. You hadn’t really thought about anyone noticing that sometimes Minho slips away upstairs to your bedroom and because of that oversight you’d never really thought about how it would feel for others to know, and to comment on it. It feels lousy, turns out. It makes you feel cheap, and it makes you feel wrong.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
It’s almost daylight before Hyunjin wakes again. He slept through almost every vital check, and at the most would only stir in his sleep when you put the cuff around his arm or the cold stethoscope against his chest.
“What are you reading?” his voice pulls your attention from the page and you wiggle around in your seat, joints and muscles stiff from hours of sitting.
“It’s just a silly romance novel, nothing life changing,” you tell him, setting the book down. “Here, you need to drink,” you hand him a cup of blue Gatorade, a bit watery from the melted ice.
Hyunjin attempts to sit up but winces, “Never really thought about how much I use these muscles,” his smile is twisted with pain, but you’re impressed with his positivity.
“Here,” you stand up and reach around to fluff his pillows up so he’s propped. “How does that feel?”
“God you smell good,” he says softly, his nose centimeters away from your sternum, right between your breasts.
“Thanks,” you sit back down quickly.
Hyunjin watches silently, sipping the blue beverage as you make a ruckus on the side table shaking pills out of bottles.
“What’s all that?” he asks.
“Your meds, since you’re up and lucid I want you to go ahead and take some,” you tell him, handing him two pills to take.
“Can I at least know what I’m taking?” he chuckles, rolling them around his palm.
“The smaller white one is an Oxycodone, for the pain, and the big one is Cephalexin, an antibiotic just in case,” you explain.
He tosses the Oxy back onto the table and pops the antibiotic into his mouth. Off of your stare he shrugs, “I don’t take pain killers, used to have a bad problem with pills.”
“Oh, well, it’s mainly just Acetaminophen, I think this one is 800mg and only 200mg of oxy. I think wherever your boss gets my drugs - they keep the hard stuff. I’d like you to take something, for your head and for the wound, but if you don’t want to I can’t make you obviously,” you say, standing up.
“I’m fine sweetheart,” he lays his head back down on the pillows, and puts the empty cup on the table. “I like a little pain,” he winks.
“Suit yourself,” you grab your book and start out of the room.
“Hey, where are you going?” he calls.
“Just giving you some privacy to rest,” you shrug.
“Read to me,” he gestures towards your chair.
“You’re kidding?” you snort.
“I’ve slept all night, and I’m bored,” he pouts, “Please?”
You huff and plant your ass back into the chair, deciding not to point out that he may have slept all night but you haven’t.
“You really want to sit here and listen to my silly romance?”
“Absolutely.”
You sigh and open your book to the page you dogeared a few moments ago. To be frank you can’t remember what was happening, you’d zoned out and the words weren’t exactly sticking. You scan the page to find anything familiar.
You freeze. Oh good Lord.
“Why are you blushing?” he laughs.
“I just…it’s…it’s sort of at a spicy part,” you squirm.
“Nice, lay it on me,” he grins.
“Jesus…” you shake your head and clear your throat.
“...Scooping her into my arms, I lavish kisses on her mouth and neck. We strip each other bare, our love making frenzied. I make sure she orgasms before me, holding back until her body achieves its release. Right before I come I whisper “I love you” between each breath before my mind goes blank with pleasure. As we lie across my-,”
“That’s it??” Hyunjin scoffs.
“What’s it?” you look up at him.
“That’s supposed to be spicy? That’s barely salted!” he chuckles.
“Well, I suppose it’s meant to not be super detailed, leave a bit to the imagination,” you answer.
“That’s lazy,” he shakes his head.
“Well what would you have written then?” you challenge, closing the book and crossing your legs.
“I don’t know, I’m no writer,” he falters, “but I would’ve written something about how she feels, how it feels to push into her - tight and wet and warm. What she tastes like - from her lipstick, to her skin, to her cunt.”
You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.
“They could’ve at least described her noises, how playing with her in different ways makes her sound different, what her tits look like when I’m fucking her, bouncing fast or slow. I don’t know, something with a little actual spice,” he shrugs.
“Well write a book then,” you say before he can go into any more detail.
“I’m just saying, they could’ve painted a better picture, fucking is supposed to be fun, that sounded boring as hell,” he scoffs, “Who ever actually whispers “I love you” when they’re fucking?”
“I don’t know, I guess people who love each other,” you grumble.
“Yeah? Is that what Boss man says to you?” he teases. It’s not the same menacing tone that Seungmin had taken with you concerning Minho, and you can tell by the lightness of Hyunjins eyes he doesn’t mean anything by it, but God, these men. They all need to be lined up and slapped across the face. You’re sick of it. Sick of the power struggle. In every situation, in every conversation they have to feel like they’re holding the power. You let Seungmins comments roll off your back and ignored them like a coward earlier, but Hyunjin will likely be here a few days and you need to establish that you won’t back down again, you can fight fire with fire.
So you straighten up and look him dead in the eyes, “No. When Minho fucks me he pulls my hair and slaps my ass and calls me his gorgeous little slut while his cum drips out of my mouth.”
Hyunjins mouth turns into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen and his eyes go wide as he points to you, “Now that is a goddamn page turner.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes as you stand up and straighten yourself out, “Okay, storytime is over, I’m going to get a little sleep. Try to rest. I’ll make you some breakfast in a bit.”
“Okay,” he nods and settles back into the mattress, as you go to switch the lights he looks at you, his head cocking to the side a bit, “Do you like that though? The rough and ragged and dirty stuff?”
You shrug, “Sometimes, I guess. Sometimes though…I don’t know… I think I’d like someone to whisper how much they love me, it sounds nice.”
He nods, then looks back up at you, “I’m sorry, I won’t comment on you and Lee anymore.”
“See you later Hyunjin.”
Too tired to even attempt walking up the stairs you drag yourself over to the sofa and collapse.
Seungmin sits in his recliner nearby and blinks at you.
You point to the blanket folded over the back of his chair, “Will you hand-,”
He balls up the blanket and throws it, pegging your face with a smirk. You shoot him a death glare before covering yourself up and sinking into the cushions. You try not to think about his earlier comments regarding Minho. You try not to think about Minho. You especially try not to think about dirty talk with Hyunjin, or how it stirred something within you that you absolutely must not allow to grow.
Endnotes:
1. Tentatively tagging my Minho lovers - @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @simpforleeknaur @moni-logues - because Minho will be centric to the story. However, if you do not want to be tagged for any reason just DM me and I’ll remove you, no worries at all 💙🥰 Alternatively, if you’re seeing this and want to be added to the tag list just let me know somehow!
2. As usual, here’s your virtual smooch for making it this far. Mafia is soooo far out of my wheelhouse and honestly even though this chapter is super unbeta’d - I may have future chapters looked at bc I’m not really sure I’m hitting the mark. Any feedback on it would be swell, just be gentle with me 😂👍
Way more fun than a dog burp for sure 😂😂 sorry you got called out boo 😉 but also thank you for reading.
My dog Penny also says thank you
Hard to Handle
Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader
Genre: Romance. Smut. Really, just smut. Also F2L.
Summary: You’re starting to want a little more from your FWB buddy.
Warnings: Explicit Language. Explicit sexual acts (oral, protected penetration). FWB situation. There is alcohol being consumed but not an amount that would inhibit or impair judgment or decisions.
A/N: A few nights ago I had a dream I played Jenga with Jk in his apartment 😂 it was NOT spicy at all bc my unconscious mind is boring, so let’s fix that. Also let’s give it a better ending than me waking up to my dog burping in my face.
WC: 2k
You’re sitting around Jungkooks dining room table, two beers in and hoping to lose at Jenga, which is a terrible game to play with drunk people, by the way. You didn’t really want to go out tonight, didn’t want to put on anything cute or put makeup on your face, but Jungkook reminded you that it’s been over a month since you’ve seen any of your friends in person. You’re overdue for socializing to meet basic human emotional requirements. Fair point.
Your phone goes off in your pocket, which you find odd, because everyone you know that would be texting you after midnight is sitting at this table.
JK: Everyone is going to start scattering soon.
You read the message then look over at him bewildered, shrugging your shoulders.
Me: Okay…and?
JK: Stay here tonight.
You look back over at him, he’s staring at his blocks, pretending to organize them but you can see the corners of his mouth slip into a mischievous smile.
Me: IDK. We probably shouldn’t keep doing that.
JK: Uh. Hard disagree. I feel like we should absolutely keep doing that. Over and over. A lot.
Me: You need a girlfriend dude.
JK: Maybe. You up for the job? I’m pretty hard to handle.
Me: Don’t joke about that shit. I don’t care to stay with you sometimes but I don’t want to start joking about being more, then it’s going to get confusing and I don’t want to deal with that.
JK: Right. Sorry. Zero confusion. Will you stay with me tonight so I can make a mess of you?
Me: …Yes.
Me:...Assuming we’re not still playing this damn game at 6AM. Jin could do this shit all night.
JK: Oh, I got you. Watch this…
“I gotta piss,” Jungkook says, standing up a little too quickly, his hip catches the edge of the table and the tower collapses with the devastating sound of blocks hitting the table and floor.
“Yah!!” Jin howls, “Look what you did!”
“Shit,” Jungkook tsks, “Sorry guys.”
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. The rest of the group moans and groans, but finally Namjoon stretches, looks at his phone and plants the seed, “It’s late, I need to get going.” Just like that, the table erupts with similar sentiments, and even Seokjin who sits and pouts for several moments, stands and starts grabbing up his things.
“Do you want a ride home, ___?” Yongsun asks.
“Uh, nah,” you shrug, “I’ve got a ride already.”
She grins, “I bet you do. Talk to you later.”
You feel the tips of your ears get hot and force a quiet laugh. Your friends aren’t stupid, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided to make a comment on why you always seem to stick around Jungkooks house after one of his little gatherings.
Jungkook follows everyone out into the hall to bid farewell then shuts the door softly and twists the lock. He turns and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds in the middle of his living room.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you into him, nuzzling the side of your face with his nose.
“Everybody knows what we’re doing,” you say softly, fingers already twisting into the hem of his shirt.
“Does that bother you?” he asks, hands slipping under your blouse, squeezing the small of your waist. His hands are so fucking warm.
“Kind of…no…I don’t know,” you answer.
“It doesn’t matter if they know we fuck sometimes, it’s not like they care, it’s not like they’re judging us,” he says, his lips start roaming the side of your throat.
“I know, I don’t know why it bothers me,” you lie. You do know why it bothers you. It bothers you because eventually someone’s going to ask what’s up, and the answer is that you want to completely fuck up this friendship. It didn’t start out like that. It started the way most arrangements like this start, he was single, you were single, and you were left alone in the same room.
It’s only been the last two or three times this has happened where you got stuck on it. Thinking about it days, even weeks after the sex, daydreaming about it. Wanting to ask him to go out just so you could hold his hand, just so you could be with him. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you started to fall for Jungkook, but it was getting harder and harder to deny it.
“If you don’t want to then let’s not,” he pulls away from you, lacing his fingers in yours as he places his forehead against your own.
“I do want to,” you tell him, and that certainly isn’t a lie. Now’s not the time to have an internal battle with your logical side, so you grab his shirt hem and pull it off, then shove him down onto his sofa.
“Strip,” he points to your body as he unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper of his jeans. You watch as he shimmies them down his hips, until the base of his cock where his pubic hair gets thicker is barely showing. You’re pretty sure you were wet to begin with, but if not you certainly are now. You can feel it pooling between your thighs.
You remember your instructions and begin removing clothes piece by piece until you’re fully naked.
He curls his finger and beckons, “Come here pretty girl.”
You crawl onto him, straddling his lap. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls, tilting your head back so he can suck and lick where he wants, which starts with your neck then dips down to your chest.
“Koo…” you groan as he gently licks at your nipples, leaving wet trails and kisses between them.
“I know,” you can feel him smile against your nipple, he blows cool air against you and you instinctively grind your hips against him. “How wet are you, hm?”
He licks the pad of his middle and index fingers, then reaches between your legs, swirling them through your slick.
“Please…” you beg.
He pops his fingers back into his mouth, “So good, you taste so fucking good. Lay down.”
You fall over onto the couch and he rids himself of his remaining clothing then perches himself between your legs. He grabs one ankle and nips at your calf before propping your leg on the back of the couch. He slides your other leg off the cushion with his knee so you’re spread wide for him.
“Say please again,” he draws his tongue across his lip, wiggling the silver and black stud. “It’s so fucking hot.”
You smile shyly, “Please Koo?”
He narrows his eyes playfully and drags the back of his knuckle up your slit, you writhe on the cushions with a gasp.
“More specific,” he teases. “Tell me you want me to fuck you with my mouth.”
“Fuck,” you whine, “Please fuck me with your mouth, fucking please Jungkook.”
He chuckles, lowering himself onto his stomach. He drags his tongue down the inside of your thigh, slow and wet, then up the other leg. He’s teasing you, planting sloppy kisses everywhere except where you want him to. Finally you’ve had enough, you bury your hands in his hair and guide him to your center.
“Impatient much?” he jokes, flicking his tongue over your clit.
“It’s been a month, give me a break,” you breathe.
He pauses and looks up at you, “You haven’t…since the last time you and I?”
You want to tell him you haven’t been with anyone since you started this whole fling, not just since the last time. That might be too much information though, so you just shrug and nod your head.
He seems to contemplate this a moment, but then that mischievous smile returns, “Well let me help you out.”
He doesn’t hold back or tease this time and you lay your head back onto a throw pillow, rocking your hips in time with his expert tongue and listening to the wet noises and little moans he’s making.
“Like that…right there,” you pant. “Oh fuck…”
He sweeps his tongue over your entrance, slowly sliding your wetness up to your clit where he softly licks and sucks, sending you over the edge. You grip the edges of the couch as your body shudders and your breathing becomes uneven.
Jungkook sits up on his knees, eyes dark, cock throbbing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his arm.
“One second,” he pants, skulking off through the house, leaving you breathless and hot.
When he comes back he chews the corner off a condom wrapper, spitting the tiny piece somewhere in his living room. You grab his arm and drag him down. Wrap your arms around him, kissing and sucking his shoulder as he rolls the latex down his length and pulls your leg over his lap.
“Ride me,” he growls, gripping the sides of your ass so hard you’re sure there will be bruises. Good.
You lower yourself down on him, pausing when he’s flush inside. You wonder if you’ll ever get accustomed to the delicious stretch of him inside you and hope that never happens.
He smacks your ass with his palm, then grabs your hips, dragging you back up his length then slamming you back down.
“Fuck,” he groans, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Feel good?” you ask, taking his mouth with yours.
He nods, “mmhmm, keep going, feels so good baby.”
You kiss him once more then brace yourself on his shoulders, finding a rhythm between bouncing and grinding that makes your insides vibrate and has him coming undone beneath you.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you pant.
“Good, keep going,” he smiles. He starts meeting your bounds by thrusting himself up hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the room, your whimpers and his moans occasionally overpowering the noise. You can feel the pull, and you bounce harder, faster, chasing it until it explodes.
Once Jungkook feels you spasm around him he holds you still, burying himself inside you while he reaches his own high.
He grabs your chin gently with his fingers and pulls you into a kiss, tongue gently pushing against yours.
“What if I wasn’t joking?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.
Your heart jumps inside your chest, “What do you mean?”
He pushes some of your hair off your face, “Earlier when I was texting you about being my girlfriend, what if I wasn’t joking?”
“Is that…do you want that?” you press.
“I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t,” he laughs.
“What about being friends for so long? Would that be weird, to change it?” you point out.
He shrugs, “I think being friends lays a pretty good foundation, why? Do you not feel the same way?”
You shake your head and laugh, “No, I feel the same way. I’ve been freaking out over how I feel about you for months Koo. I’m just blurting out all the questions I’ve been keeping to myself.”
“You could’ve said something,” he laughs with you. “You’ve always been like that, gotta hash out all the answers and outcomes in your head before you bring anyone else in.”
“What can I say,” you shrug, “I’m hard to handle. You think you’re up for the job?”
“Most definitely, pretty girl.”
Endnote:
1. This is very unbeta’d because it’s just for fun and so very unserious. So there’s that. Also I’m very out of practice writing smut so also that. Ok thanks 💜 if you made it far enough to read this I’m giving you a virtual smooch 😘
Omigawshhhh I LOVE your Safe story so far - I am such a simp for mafia stories I cannot HELP it and I am invested 😅 also I’m a nurse and I seen where you said you relied on Google but really you aren’t very far off at all on how to treat a stab wound outside a ED, I was impressed!! Blood loss is complicated because there’s so many different levels of severity some just need a saline bag some have to have a transfusion etc etc but it was a pretty good depiction of what should happen. It’s a great story so far!! Can’t wait to read more.
ANON!! This is such a relief because I second guessed pretty much every syllable of that entire sequence of events lmao. I used to work at a Uni and every year we would have state police and EMS come in and give us a very basic training on giving first aid to trauma victims in case anything bad ever happened so I tried to use a bit of what they taught us in addition to the things I Googled (things I had a very hard time comprehending lmao) so it means a lot that you say this!
Also thank you so so much for reading, I'm glad you're excited for more <3 <3 <3
It did originally start from the beginning but I decided it would be more fun and easier (on me lol) to skip the awkward, quiet, how it started stuff and just jump straight into how it’s going.
Also, at the risk of spoiling my own shiii - there is this giant blank space between scenes in a later chapter where I have been going back and forth and back and forth over a lil throuple bit. I literally cannot decide and will probably hit you up for your opinion on the matter bc I think you need more info and I need halp 😂😂😂
But thank you for reading it, I appreciate it 🥹🫂
Safe.
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Me not knowing a single thing about medicine and relying on Google to give me accurate-ish information and the hope that I'm kind of explaining it correctly but knowing I'm probably not, so apologies to any reader who may work in medicine and is rolling their eyes at me lol. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 6k
AN: I have never ever in my life written a mafia fic, at least nothing I’ve ever posted or kept so…good luck. Additionally, this fic was originally all one doc which ended up being too much to handle, like Tumblr would not even try to meet me halfway. So I decided to break her up into chapters which I will post routinely until she's over. No idea how many chapters bc I’m still deciding on how to separate some of the later parts of the story…so hang tight with me.
-PART ONE-
It’s the blare of a phone ringing that wakes you in the middle of the night. You pull yourself to the edge of the bed and look at the two phones that lay on your bedside table. One is personal, in a shiny black case that in truth, hardly ever rings or blips anymore. The other is a silver phone, caseless, a little worse for the wear and the screen is illuminated with an unsaved telephone number. This particular detail doesn’t really matter, there’s only a few people who would be calling it, and they cycle through burner phones so often there’s no point in saving anything.
“Hello?” your voice is scratchy from sleep.
“We’re ten minutes out,” Changbin says urgently, skipping greetings entirely. You sit up and throw your feet over the edge of the bed.
“Who is it and how bad?” you ask, flitting around your bedroom switching lights on and grabbing a hair tie.
“It’s Hyunjin, and I don’t think he’s going to die but I can’t stop the bleeding,” Changbin grunts.
“Gun shot?” you assume, already downstairs and clearing the dining table, wondering what kind of trauma you need to prepare for.
“Stabbed.”
“Fuck,” you stop. Possibilities like artery and organ punctures start spinning around your head. You pray it’s not abdominal, but you know these men too well so you don’t ask, because you’re sure you already know the answer.
“We can’t take him to an ER, ___, his face is on every list in the city. You know they always keep informants in the emergency departments, we can’t take him there,” Changbin urges and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
He’s correct. When Lee Minho, crime lord and your current employer first found you, you were working the night shift at the emergency department. You knew that because of the high crime rate in the city, many of the staff who sat at the check in and triage stations were also paid police informants, ready to dial up the officers to run any names or faces that looked sketchy, had a shady story, or came in with GSWs, or similar combative injuries.
“Okay. Okay, keep direct pressure on the wound and I mean a lot of pressure Changbin, it’s going to feel like you’re hurting him but trust me, lots of pressure. I’ll prep the dining room,” you tell him.
You take a deep breath and think. You start a pot of boiling water and lay out some clean towels on the counter. Then fly around the room opening drawers: Gloves, scissors, gauze, bandages, wound packing strips, disinfectant, antibiotics, stitch kit, and the silent prayer that no arteries, or internal organs have been compromised because you are not a surgeon and you will have to send them out to a hospital, which is more time wasted and gives Hyunjin a significantly lower survival chance.
You weigh a clean sheet down over the table just as you hear tires squeal into the driveway outside. You run to the door and unlock it, propping it open so they can carry him in.
“It’s bad ___, he’s out cold,” Felix grunts breathlessly as he and Changbin carry an unconscious Hyunjin into the room. All three are covered in blood and you don’t bother asking if it’s Hyunjins, theirs, or someone else's. The two of them are walking, conscious and breathing, so it doesn’t matter at the moment.
“Okay, it’ll be okay,” you blather in a much higher tone than you mean to.
You don the gloves and grab the scissors, cutting up the seams of Hyunjins black satin shirt, soaked with blood. Changbin keeps his hand pressed to Hyunjins left side, a balled up tee shirt gripped in his shaking fist.
“Bin,” you say softly, “I need to cut the shirt away, okay? When I say three I want you to pull your hand off,” you explain and he nods, “Felix, I need you to bring the pot of water and those clean towels from the kitchen in here for me,” you instruct.
You look at Hyunjins sweet face, ghastly pale, and lips several shades lighter than what they ought to be. He’s clearly lost a lot of blood and you briefly think of a transfusion, but have no way of performing one - most of these men have no idea what blood type they are anyway but even if they did you don’t have the means to do it.
“Okay,” you breathe deeply once the shirt is mostly gone, the scent of iron and copper floods your nose, “One…two…three.”
Changbin pulls the balled up, blood soaked cloth from the wound and you watch as the thick, red substance trickles out while you finish off the shirt. You hear Changbin gasp and curse under his breath.
“It’s okay,” you say, “That’s a fairly good sign, see how it’s a slow trickle and not a burst or spurt? That’s a good sign,” you repeat for him, grabbing a handful of gauze to press into the wound.
Changbin nods and backs away.
“No, no,” you stop him, “Go wash your hands, put some gloves on and come back here, Felix, you do the same. Quickly.”
The two men disperse to do as they’re told and you hold the gauze in place with one hand, wetting a towel to clean off the area with the other so you can see what you’re working on better. It’s on his left side, above his hip in the small of his waist. That significantly decreases the number of organs possibly punctured. Left kidney, lung, and/or possible intestinal damage - none of which are good news, but that will make it easier to look for tell tale signs, which as of right now you don’t see.
Changbin and Felix return, gloved up and ready to assist as you work diligently to stop the bleeding by packing the wound.
“How long was the blade?” you ask as you work. You stick your fingertip into the open flesh to feel it out. This seems to perk your patient up, Hyunjin jerks up on the table, screaming in agony and cursing the room. The good news is the wound isn’t as deep as you feared.
“Hold him down!” you yell and both men scramble to steady him. “Changbin? The knife?”
“Um,” Changbin shakes his head, “Small, smooth, no more than ten centimeters I’d say.”
Hyunjin gasps and goes eerily still on the table.
“___?” Felix cries, you can hear the fear in his voice.
“It’s okay, he’s responding to pain and that’s good, but he’s going to slip in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss,” you explain but you still see the fear on Felixes face, “Why don’t you tell me what happened Felix?”
He looks at you, eyes wide with fear and you give him a shaky but reassuring smile and a nod of encouragement, “We were ambushed. It was just supposed to be a collection run, so only the three of us went. As soon as we walked into their storehouse bullets were flying. Hyunjin knocked the gun out of the guys hand and he pulled a blade out of his boot as a backup,” Felix adds, “He stabbed Hyunjin but he got in one last punch that knocked the bastard out cold,” he smiles proudly.
“Was Hyunjin significantly taller than the man?” you wonder.
“Definitely,” Changbin nods, “Why does it matter?”
“Because it appears that the man stabbed into his side at a difficult upward angle, which prevented it from going in deep. That’s good, because that means it probably bypassed any of his organs. Felix, bring my stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff please, over on the end table.”
Felix runs over and you cautiously release the gauze. To your relief the bleeding seems to have at least slowed to a manageable rate.
You stuff the stethoscope in your ears and try to ascertain some vitals now that he seems stable(ish). His heart rate is lower than normal, but his lungs sound clear. Pupils are responding to light slowly but normally, and his blood pressure is low but stable. You grab his hand and press on his fingernails, O2 seems fine.
“What now?” Felix asks.
“I’ll need you two to lift him up a bit, I’ve got the wound packed but I’ll need to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep the packing in place, then, in an hour or so, if we’re lucky the bleeding will have stopped completely and I can clean him up and stitch it,” you say shakily.
The boys do as they’re told and you carefully wrap the bandage around him, making sure the wound is secured.
A knock pounds at the door as you lay him back down on the table, the three of you exchange glances and Changbin pulls the 9mm from his strap and makes his way toward the door with Felix tiptoeing behind as backup.
“It’s me,” a voice hollers from the other side and your little trio breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Lee Minho, obviously coming to check on one of his best.
Changbin opens the door and sweeps the front yard with his eyes for good measure before closing up again.
“How is he?” Minho stands over Hyunjins still body as you discard your gloves in a nearby bin.
“He’s lost quite a lot of blood, if we were at the hospital I’d imagine they’d call for a transfusion, which is impossible here - but if I can get him stable, he might pull through the blood loss thing. The wound wasn’t as deep as I thought it would be, but it’s quite a bleeder, so right now my primary focus is to make sure it’s completely stopped before sewing him up,” you explain.
Minho nods, and you watch as he quietly assesses the situation, considering his next move. You don’t know Hyunjin as well as some of the others. You do know he’s careful, cautious and very good at his job. The fact he was nearly bested this evening has you surprised, so you can only imagine the shock of the man standing in front of you. Minho taps his finger gently against his lips, then drags his hand across his mouth in frustration.
“I want retaliation for this,” he says quietly, darkly.
“Absolutely,” Changbin nods, “The motherfucker who did this has numbered days.”
“Find him,” Minho commands, “Find everyone who was there, I don’t care if you have to go to their homes where their god damned kids sleep, you find them, I want intel on them all, and we’ll go over it together. We’ll figure out who we can use for information, and who we’re going to,” he stops himself then and looks at you gently, “Well, who won’t be of any value to us.”
You appreciate the attempt at guarded candor, but you already know he means to murder them all. Knowing Minho, and how he probably feels he’s been screwed over tonight, he’s going to kill the valuable ones too - once he knows what he needs to know.
“I’m going to go wash up,” you say softly, “He should be alright for now. I’ll check him after I’m done. If anything happens just yell.”
When you’re safely closed off in the bathroom, you take the first calm breath since the phone rang, waking you from a dreamless sleep. You stare at yourself in the mirror and realize in addition to being covered in blood, you also still wear the black silk nightgown you wore to bed. You scoff, looking down at yourself, the lace hem falls across the top of your thighs, sticking to the skin with blood, and one thin strap hangs off your shoulder. You look like a dumpster fire. Your hair is in shambles as well. You start to take it down and decide to toss the nightie in the trash when the door to your bathroom opens. Minho.
“I sent Felix and Bin off, I need them to cool down a bit, they’re pretty keyed up,” he says, playing with the bottles and boxes on your bathroom vanity. “I’ve sent for Seungmin to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while as protection, I’ll stick around until he arrives of course.”
You clear your throat, “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he whispers. He moves to stand behind you and you stare at each other in the reflection of the mirror. He takes two fingers and caresses your arm, hooking the rogue strap of your nightie and pulling it back into place on your shoulder. His other hand roams your figure, over your breast, down your ribs and waist, and stops on your hip as he gives it a gentle squeeze - never once taking his eyes off yours in the mirror. You say nothing, you don’t move.
“You look like a scared animal,” he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your hair off your neck, exposing it. His lips move in, his breath on the delicate skin, and he looks at your reflection once more, “Hm?”
You realize he’s asking for permission and you nod. His lips land right under your ear, his fingers spreading across your throat to gently pull you into him. You don’t stop the soft breath that escapes your lips and your hand flies to cover his as he continues to rub and squeeze your hip.
You’ve almost lost yourself in him, when you open your eyes and realize he’s spreading the blood on your arm around.
“Wait,” you gasp and jump away.
“What?” he frowns, and you see the flicker of rejection flash in his dark eyes, but he decides to suppress any reaction to it.
“You’re getting blood all over you,” you point to his hand, “I really do need to wash up and check on Hyunjin. I’ll need to monitor him constantly tonight to make sure there’s no change,” you say politely.
“Are you that scared of me, Kitten?” he asks, leaning over your sink to rinse Hyunjins blood away.
“I’m not scared of you Minho,” you tell him, and it’s mostly true, kind of. “You’ve been in my bed enough times that I think you know I’m not scared of you.”
“Yet you always send me away after,” he sighs, shaking the excess water from his hands. “It makes me wonder if maybe you only let me into your bed because you think you don’t have a choice, you know, due to our arrangement,” he motions broadly at the room.
You can easily see how he’d come to that conclusion. When you accepted his offer you went very swiftly from working your ass to the bone, on no sleep, in a shoebox of an apartment, with debt up to your eyeballs straight to having everything paid off, a credit card with essentially no limit, a huge, beautiful house on the edge of the city bought and paid for, and anything your heart desired. All of it was taken care of by him. So, yes, you could see how one might think you allow him to do whatever he wants just to keep things copacetic for him.
“Do you want honesty?” you ask, reaching into the shower to adjust the water.
“From my employees? I demand it, yes,” he nods. Well, there it is, you think. He looks at you as an employee, and you also look at him as your employer. The situation is so beyond wildly fucked that you’ve truly got no idea what you’re doing or why.
“I let you into my bed because I’m lonely, and you make me feel…not alone,” you tell him. “It has nothing to do with our arrangement. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”
“Good,” he nods, “but why are you lonely? You’re not my prisoner, you are free to come and go as you please, with the caveat of you being available when I need you, and for you to keep what you know and have seen to yourself.”
“I know that,” you allow your nightgown to fall to the floor, “What I don’t know yet is how to compartmentalize my normal life with this life, how to live them separately. How to be normal out there, and business here. So until I do, well, you don’t seem to mind my using you for human connection.”
“That’s understandable and I don’t mind at all,” he licks his lips as you slide your panties down and off your legs, “I know this was a big change for you, and I understand that what I ask of you is taxing, that what you see and hear is sometimes unfathomable.”
You cross over to him, naked, skin streaked with another persons blood, “Thank you for understanding,” you say, and kiss him, pulling him into you by his collar. His fingers slide down your stomach and slide between your slick. You whimper into his mouth as he pulls away.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them with a grin, “Wash up Kitten, but next time you don’t have one of my men bleeding on your dining room table, you’re mine.”
You wait for him to close the door before you step into the water. You watch the white floor of the shower turn into red swirls being pulled down the drain. You scrub and scrub your skin until it feels raw, wash your hair in case any blood made its way up there to dry out in the strands. You dry off, moisturize and put on comfortable clothes - a pair of old scrub pants and a tee shirt you don’t care about. You pull your wet hair tight out of your face and then pick up your ruined night dress, tossing it into the bathroom trash on your way out the door.
When you return downstairs you see Seungmin sitting in a recliner in the living room, scrolling his phone. Hyunjin continues to lay still on the dining table, and you walk over to check his vitals again, catching Seungmins attention.
“Good evening,” he nods stiffly and you give him a wry smile.
“Where did Min- Where did Mr. Lee go?” you ask him as you wrap the BP cuff around Hyunjins arm.
“He left. You don’t need to know where,” he answers you with an uninterested cadence, not looking up from his phone.
“Right,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Of course.”
Hyunjins blood pressure is back to normal, albeit a tad low, but well in the realm of being acceptable. Resting heart rate has returned to the low 70’s, which is also a good sign. You finger the bandage at his side and it’s a relief to find that so far, no blood has seeped through the packing. That is indeed very good progress.
As you fix his bandage back a hand flies up, landing over yours and you jump, looking up just in time to see his eyes flutter open.
“Hey there,” you say softly, “How do you feel?”
“Like I got stabbed in a back alley,” he chuckles and lifts his head but immediately winces at the pain and collapses back onto the table with a painful sounding thud.
“Be very still,” you place your palm against his stomach softly. “You did get stabbed in a back alley and you’re far from ready to move around.”
“Changbin and Felix?” he rasps.
“They’re fine,” you answer, “They brought you here but Mr. Lee sent them home for the night, they were both very worried about you.”
“But they’re fine?” he looks at you seriously and you nod.
“Totally fine Hyunjin.”
He shakes his head, “Those motherfuckers have to be the dumbest in the entire country. We weren’t even there for any rifts, we just needed to collect the monthly gun sales. I knew when we walked in something was off, everyone felt so nervous, I should’ve turned tail and gotten Bin and Felix out as soon as I felt it.”
“She doesn’t need to know any of this, you ought to keep your mouth shut,” Seungmin calls from the living room.
Hyunjin smirks, “Why’d they send the mean, strict grandpa? I almost died, I at least deserve Jeongin or Jisung.”
You say nothing, but suppress a laugh and shrug your shoulders.
Hyunjin wiggles around feeling his pants pockets and produces a square brass cigarette case.
“Got a light Doll?” he places one between his lips and you walk to the kitchen for a lighter.
“As your primary care professional, I don’t really recommend this right now,” you say dryly, but light it for him and allow it.
“I’ve been a good patient though,” he sticks out his lower lip and you roll your eyes.
“I suppose,” you say.
“So when can I get out of here?” he asks between puffs.
You scoff, “Well. If we were in a hospital and I could send you for bloodwork and images and definitively rule out any organ damage, I could send you home a lot sooner. As it is,” you think for a moment, trying to be both medically practical but also realistic to what Minho will expect. “As it is, I need to watch you for at least three days. I’ll need to monitor your wound, obviously, but also any sign of infection like swelling or fever. If that happens it could be because the blade nicked something it shouldn’t have, like your intestines for example, or that the wound itself is trying to go septic.”
“Ew,” he grimaces.
“Exactly.”
“And will I have to bunk on this very nice, but extremely uncomfortable table during that time? Not gonna lie Doll, I’m getting pretty stiff, and not in the fun way,” he jokes.
“No,” you laugh, “Seungmin and I will help you to the guest room in a bit. First I’d like to unpack your wound, make sure the major bleeding stopped, and stitch you. Then I’ll clean you up and put a new bandage on, after that you can go to a real bed.”
“Stitches huh?” he blows out a big puff of smoke. “Is that, uh…you know, going to hurt?”
You grin, “Well, it won’t feel amazing, but it probably doesn’t hurt any worse than getting stabbed, and now we know you can handle that.”
“Right,” he chuckles.
“I’ll try and see if I have any more topical anesthetic in my supplies,” you pat his leg sympathetically.
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“Fuck! It hurts…” Hyunjin grumbles, you pause your needle as he flinches and bites down hard on his bottom lip.
“I’m sorry, I’m almost done,” you tell him, going back to it, “aside from me sewing you up, how do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” he says shakily, you can see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and forehead, see his fingers shaking between weak grips on the edge of the table.
“Cute, acting tough like that,” you click your teeth, “Now, how about you tell me the truth? I can’t treat you properly if you’re not honest about your symptoms.”
He looks down at you, despite his current state, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.
“I feel like shit, there, you happy now?” he pouts.
From the corner of the room Seungmin sighs, “She needs you to be specific, idiot.”
“Why are you speaking?” Hyunjin snaps at him and you see Seungmin stiffen, face defiant, but you notice he sinks lower into the recliner and goes back to his phone.
“He’s right,” you say quietly, finishing up the stitches, “I need to know if anything’s hurting, burning or itching from head to toe,” you stand up and help him lie back down on the table, carefully holding his head in your hands. This brings your faces closer together, closer than you’d ever been to Hyunjin, and you can’t help but notice the sweetness of his face, the wild innocence of his dark eyes. He meets your gaze with the same intensity and you have to look away.
“So how about it?” you clear your throat, “How are you really feeling?”
“My head is pounding, I feel like I could drink ten gallons of water, my side is burning where you just sewed my guts back in, and I feel like I couldn’t lift a feather without passing out. That good enough for you sweetheart?” he half laughs, then winces.
“Yes, actually,” you quip, “The headache and weakness are both from the blood loss, I’ll get you some pain meds, and you can slowly start to drink some ice water for the dry mouth, I also want you on antibiotics, and Seungmin can help me get you to bed so you can rest.”
You gesture to Seungmin, “I went ahead and pulled the covers down, I just need you to help me get him on the bed,” you instruct.
Seungmin saunters over and Hyunjin reluctantly puts his arm around Seungmins neck, “Ouch! Fuck!” he cries and you look up from where you’re putting his feet on the floor.
“Maybe support the side he doesn’t have a stab wound on boys?” you point to Hyunjins right side.
“Right,” Seungmin grumbles.
Getting Hyunjin from the dining room just down the hall to the bedroom proves to be quite difficult, despite the trip only being maybe twenty, twenty-five steps. The journey takes every bit of his energy and when he hits the mattress with a painful sounding thud he’s out again.
“Is he going to make it?” Seungmin stands back and somehow looks both concerned and unbothered by Hyunjins pitiful state.
“Yes,” you nod, “He needs to rehydrate, and rest. When he wakes up I’ll get him some pain medication, start some antibiotics, and get some fluids in him. Will you run down to the store and get a case of some kind of sports drink? He’ll need the sodium.”
“No.”
“Pardon?” you turn to Seungmin.
“My orders aren’t to do your shopping, my orders are to stay here and protect the safe house,” he answers seriously.
“For fucks sake Seungmin,” you sigh, “loosen up. I’ll grab my keys and be right back,” you tell him, “but if he wakes up and needs something urgent you’re on your own and whatever happens will be on you.”
“Then I’ll deal with it. Just because you fuck the boss doesn’t make you the matriarch of the organization,” he says flatly.
You freeze, your mouth setting into a tight, defensive line. You fight the urge to slap him, you know that he’ll hit you back and his fist most definitely packs a bigger punch.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Hyunjin says weakly from the bed, Seungmin nearly jumps out of his skin.
“It’s the truth,” Seungmin challenges softly.
“That’s not how you talk to someone who does so much for us, and besides I’d hate for that nasty remark to get back to Minho, you won’t be doing protection details for a while, I guarantee you that,” Hyunjin threatens.
Seungmin huffs and starts to stalk out of the room.
“You’re forgetting something,” Hyunjin says, weakly lifting a finger and pointing at you. “Apologize.”
Seungmins eyes narrow with rage, “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth.
“It’s fine,” you sigh, knowing he doesn’t really mean it and also knowing that you don’t really give a shit if he does or not. “I’m going to get some things for Hyunjin, you boys play nice.”
You don’t give either of them the opportunity to respond, you just head for the door. You wait until you’re in the privacy of your own car, well, Minho’s car, before you cry.
Seungmins words cut deep, both embarrassing and insulting. You hadn’t really thought about anyone noticing that sometimes Minho slips away upstairs to your bedroom and because of that oversight you’d never really thought about how it would feel for others to know, and to comment on it. It feels lousy, turns out. It makes you feel cheap, and it makes you feel wrong.
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It’s almost daylight before Hyunjin wakes again. He slept through almost every vital check, and at the most would only stir in his sleep when you put the cuff around his arm or the cold stethoscope against his chest.
“What are you reading?” his voice pulls your attention from the page and you wiggle around in your seat, joints and muscles stiff from hours of sitting.
“It’s just a silly romance novel, nothing life changing,” you tell him, setting the book down. “Here, you need to drink,” you hand him a cup of blue Gatorade, a bit watery from the melted ice.
Hyunjin attempts to sit up but winces, “Never really thought about how much I use these muscles,” his smile is twisted with pain, but you’re impressed with his positivity.
“Here,” you stand up and reach around to fluff his pillows up so he’s propped. “How does that feel?”
“God you smell good,” he says softly, his nose centimeters away from your sternum, right between your breasts.
“Thanks,” you sit back down quickly.
Hyunjin watches silently, sipping the blue beverage as you make a ruckus on the side table shaking pills out of bottles.
“What’s all that?” he asks.
“Your meds, since you’re up and lucid I want you to go ahead and take some,” you tell him, handing him two pills to take.
“Can I at least know what I’m taking?” he chuckles, rolling them around his palm.
“The smaller white one is an Oxycodone, for the pain, and the big one is Cephalexin, an antibiotic just in case,” you explain.
He tosses the Oxy back onto the table and pops the antibiotic into his mouth. Off of your stare he shrugs, “I don’t take pain killers, used to have a bad problem with pills.”
“Oh, well, it’s mainly just Acetaminophen, I think this one is 800mg and only 200mg of oxy. I think wherever your boss gets my drugs - they keep the hard stuff. I’d like you to take something, for your head and for the wound, but if you don’t want to I can’t make you obviously,” you say, standing up.
“I’m fine sweetheart,” he lays his head back down on the pillows, and puts the empty cup on the table. “I like a little pain,” he winks.
“Suit yourself,” you grab your book and start out of the room.
“Hey, where are you going?” he calls.
“Just giving you some privacy to rest,” you shrug.
“Read to me,” he gestures towards your chair.
“You’re kidding?” you snort.
“I’ve slept all night, and I’m bored,” he pouts, “Please?”
You huff and plant your ass back into the chair, deciding not to point out that he may have slept all night but you haven’t.
“You really want to sit here and listen to my silly romance?”
“Absolutely.”
You sigh and open your book to the page you dogeared a few moments ago. To be frank you can’t remember what was happening, you’d zoned out and the words weren’t exactly sticking. You scan the page to find anything familiar.
You freeze. Oh good Lord.
“Why are you blushing?” he laughs.
“I just…it’s…it’s sort of at a spicy part,” you squirm.
“Nice, lay it on me,” he grins.
“Jesus…” you shake your head and clear your throat.
“...Scooping her into my arms, I lavish kisses on her mouth and neck. We strip each other bare, our love making frenzied. I make sure she orgasms before me, holding back until her body achieves its release. Right before I come I whisper “I love you” between each breath before my mind goes blank with pleasure. As we lie across my-,”
“That’s it??” Hyunjin scoffs.
“What’s it?” you look up at him.
“That’s supposed to be spicy? That’s barely salted!” he chuckles.
“Well, I suppose it’s meant to not be super detailed, leave a bit to the imagination,” you answer.
“That’s lazy,” he shakes his head.
“Well what would you have written then?” you challenge, closing the book and crossing your legs.
“I don’t know, I’m no writer,” he falters, “but I would’ve written something about how she feels, how it feels to push into her - tight and wet and warm. What she tastes like - from her lipstick, to her skin, to her cunt.”
You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.
“They could’ve at least described her noises, how playing with her in different ways makes her sound different, what her tits look like when I’m fucking her, bouncing fast or slow. I don’t know, something with a little actual spice,” he shrugs.
“Well write a book then,” you say before he can go into any more detail.
“I’m just saying, they could’ve painted a better picture, fucking is supposed to be fun, that sounded boring as hell,” he scoffs, “Who ever actually whispers “I love you” when they’re fucking?”
“I don’t know, I guess people who love each other,” you grumble.
“Yeah? Is that what Boss man says to you?” he teases. It’s not the same menacing tone that Seungmin had taken with you concerning Minho, and you can tell by the lightness of Hyunjins eyes he doesn’t mean anything by it, but God, these men. They all need to be lined up and slapped across the face. You’re sick of it. Sick of the power struggle. In every situation, in every conversation they have to feel like they’re holding the power. You let Seungmins comments roll off your back and ignored them like a coward earlier, but Hyunjin will likely be here a few days and you need to establish that you won’t back down again, you can fight fire with fire.
So you straighten up and look him dead in the eyes, “No. When Minho fucks me he pulls my hair and slaps my ass and calls me his gorgeous little slut while his cum drips out of my mouth.”
Hyunjins mouth turns into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen and his eyes go wide as he points to you, “Now that is a goddamn page turner.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes as you stand up and straighten yourself out, “Okay, storytime is over, I’m going to get a little sleep. Try to rest. I’ll make you some breakfast in a bit.”
“Okay,” he nods and settles back into the mattress, as you go to switch the lights he looks at you, his head cocking to the side a bit, “Do you like that though? The rough and ragged and dirty stuff?”
You shrug, “Sometimes, I guess. Sometimes though…I don’t know… I think I’d like someone to whisper how much they love me, it sounds nice.”
He nods, then looks back up at you, “I’m sorry, I won’t comment on you and Lee anymore.”
“See you later Hyunjin.”
Too tired to even attempt walking up the stairs you drag yourself over to the sofa and collapse.
Seungmin sits in his recliner nearby and blinks at you.
You point to the blanket folded over the back of his chair, “Will you hand-,”
He balls up the blanket and throws it, pegging your face with a smirk. You shoot him a death glare before covering yourself up and sinking into the cushions. You try not to think about his earlier comments regarding Minho. You try not to think about Minho. You especially try not to think about dirty talk with Hyunjin, or how it stirred something within you that you absolutely must not allow to grow.
Endnotes:
1. Tentatively tagging my Minho lovers - @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @simpforleeknaur @moni-logues - because Minho will be centric to the story. However, if you do not want to be tagged for any reason just DM me and I’ll remove you, no worries at all 💙🥰 Alternatively, if you’re seeing this and want to be added to the tag list just let me know somehow!
2. As usual, here’s your virtual smooch for making it this far. Mafia is soooo far out of my wheelhouse and honestly even though this chapter is super unbeta’d - I may have future chapters looked at bc I’m not really sure I’m hitting the mark. Any feedback on it would be swell, just be gentle with me 😂👍
Katie!! Thank you thank you thank you. Honestly I didn't even realize how sticky sweet I made Hyunjin until I was re-reading and was like, man, I was craving sugar evidently lmao. There is more sweetness to come, and Minho...well, maybe we just need to understand him better........teehee.
I love you. Thank you for always reblogging my silly little stories, you are such a gem, and you are totally my Tumblr Comfort Person if that makes any sense at all <3 <3 <3
Safe. (Part Two)
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 6.5k
Read Pt. One Here
- PART TWO -
When you wake up this time, unlike the previous evening, you’re on the couch in the living room. You hear whistling and dishes clanking from the kitchen, and the roar of a load of laundry going. You sit up and rub your eyes. You know Hyunjin isn’t feeling well enough to be bustling about your kitchen and Seungmin would never. So, you’re not surprised to see Han Jisung floating around the kitchen, putting things where they don’t go, while he flip flops between whistling and singing random songs.
The scent of coffee is in the air, and that takes precedence over other thoughts. So you lift your stiff body off the couch to greet him.
“Where did my best buddy go off to?” you joke dryly as you grab a mug from the cupboard.
“Oh! Good morning, uh…Seungmin? He and I switched out shifts, I didn’t figure you cared so we didn’t wake you up,” Han explains, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder.
“Thank you for cleaning,” you look around. He’s cleaned everything from last night, the counters, the floors, the sheet you put over the dining table is in the laundry, along with some bloody towels and clothes. The kitchen and dining area look like a normal house again, and not a surgery center.
“Eh,” he shrugs, pouring himself a refill, “I assumed it was a hard night if you passed out on the couch, just wanted to help. Um…how is he?” Jisung asks.
“Let’s go see, besides, he needs to eat here in the kitchen, needs to walk around so that wound doesn’t start healing in the wrong position,” you say, then take a big gulp of coffee before setting it down on the counter.
Hyunjin is awake when you and Jisung walk into the room, he’s got his tongue tucked between his teeth and he’s concentrating hard on an open notebook, a simple #2 pencil seems to be possessed by something as he drags it across the page. For several seconds he doesn’t even seem to notice anyone has walked into the room until Jisung runs into the chest of drawers near the door.
Like a shot, Hyunjin snaps the notebook closed and his face goes from wild concentration to that cool, unbothered demeanor you’ve grown accustomed to with him.
“What are you drawing?” you can’t help but wonder.
“I just like to doodle, it’s nothing,” he says a little too quickly and you get the feeling he doesn’t want you to see his work, fine, you’re not here to argue.
“Up you go,” you stand by his bed and beckon him with your fingers. “We’re going to go eat at the kitchen table, you need to walk around.”
“Uh, pardon? Was it not you that sewed my damn side back together last night? Can’t you just bring it in here?” he asks.
“You have stitches Hyunjin, there are women in hospitals all over the world right now who just had seven layers of their guts sliced open, a literal human being dragged out, and then those guts stitched, cauterized, and stapled back together - and they have to get up and walk as soon as the spinal block wears off - so get your ass up, go sit at the table, and I’ll make you some breakfast,” you instruct, patting the side of his face with a smug smile.
“You’re kind of mean, you know that?” he half smiles.
“I know,” you wave as you walk back to the kitchen.
“Seven fucking layers? I didn't even know there were seven layers…” you hear Jisung whisper as he assists Hyunjin out of bed.
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Later in the afternoon Minho pays another surprise visit. You think he must favor Hyunjin, he’s never been this diligent on checking in. Or, maybe he wants to make good on his promise to make you his when there wasn't a man bleeding out on your table. The thought gives you an unhealthy excitement.
“You’re alive!” Minho grins and gives Hyunjins shoulders a shake.
“Yes sir,” he nods, “Gonna take more than some bitch ass blade to take me out.”
“Of course,” Minho smiles, then looks at you, “You did wonderfully love. He looks right as rain.”
“Well, I’d still like to monitor him for infection, though I do have him started on antibiotics, but yes, I think he’ll be back to normal in a few days,” you report.
“Good! Then you’ll both join me this coming Saturday evening,” Minho casually goes to the fridge and plucks a water out.
You and Hyunjin look at each other quizzically. You’ve never been asked to do anything aside from bandaging Minho’s guys.
“You mean me?” you ask, looking around. Jisung is upstairs taking a nap, so there are no other people in the room.
“Yes, I mean you,” Minho confirms. “This Saturday I’m hosting a meeting of sorts with some of our associates. Specifically, I want to ensure they’re on our side of things. The intel on your attack leads to Kim Taehyung. I guess those guys that attacked the three of you were planted there by him. I’ve had just about enough of the Kim organization pushing back lately, after we’ve been so generous in letting them live and operate around the gun sales - but the attack on the three of you last night - in addition to him selling to our clients, that was the last straw,” he explains. “I plan to obliterate their ops, and make sure Kim Taehyung never sees another daylight.”
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, you have no idea who Minho is talking about but the visions of all the ways this Kim Taehyung is going to pay for what he’s done is overwhelmingly gruesome.
“Anyway,” Minho clears his throat, “Saturday at the Casino, I’ll make sure our business partners and associates are all on the same page, if not then I’ll assume they’re enemies now, but in order to keep the tension down I’d like it to be casual - which is where you come in darling,” Minho looks at you.
“I don’t understand…you need first aid on site or?”
Minho laughs, “No love, I want you there as my date, so to speak, I’ve told the others to bring their wives, mistresses, whomever - it’s a party, and I want to keep it light, I’ll look less uptight if I’ve got something to occasionally hold my attention,” he smiles, then looks at Hyunjin, “I’m sure Kim will have some of his guys planted around the casino and I want them to see you there Hwang. I know they targeted you because of your reputation as my best, and they need to know it was barely a scratch.”
Hyunjin nods, “Of course.”
“Good, then it’s settled.”
You say nothing, still too stunned to speak. You don’t really want to go to his Casino. You don’t want to be seen as his…anything. You feel like you’re being debuted as something you never agreed to, and you’re also sure if you bring it up he’ll brush it off as nothing, that you’re reading too much into his invitation or worse, he’ll be livid for your insubordination. You don’t like this, you didn’t agree to dates, or public appearances. When Minho approached you in the hospital parking lot that morning all those months ago, the parameters were clear: He’ll pay you and keep you supplied with medical necessities if you tend to he and his men. Period.
And yet. On the other hand, you can’t quite explain the flicker of giddiness in your stomach at the thought of having a night out with him. It’s exciting and yet simultaneously makes you hate yourself.
This is your fault. You never should’ve fallen for that face, that misleading smile that conceals the evil within, that makes you think he’s harmless. He’s not, and you climbed into bed with him literally and figuratively, you’ve done this to yourself. You know you’re in too deep even as he looks at you now from across the room and motions up the stairs with his eyes, the excitement pools immediately between your legs and you get up and lead the way, not caring your house is occupied with two other people, not caring about Saturdays Casino night, only caring about feeling good. You’re in too deep, and you don’t think you can pull yourself out.
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“So, about Saturday,” you say, pulling the sheets up under your arms, concealing your nudity.
“Hm?” Minho is just out of the shower, he wraps a towel around his waist and sits back down on the bed, picking his phone up to check it.
“I’m just a little concerned…” you trail off, not sure what to say or how to say it.
“If you’re worried about what to wear, don't be,” he says casually without looking up from his phone, “I’ll send Christopher over with dress options and accessories that afternoon for you to choose from.”
“That’s not really what I’m worried about, but that’s nice of you,” you say.
“Then what?” he finally looks over at you.
“It’s just…It’s just that surely there’s someone else you’d rather have with you than me, I’m just for emergencies you know? Medical emergencies,” you clarify.
He laughs dryly, “You said you felt lonely here, that you’re not sure how to act normal when you’re not with us, so I figured I’d take you out into our world, that way you don’t have to worry about how to act or not act. It’ll be fun, you’ll get to dress up, have drinks, eat delicious food, and play some games if you’d like. Why are you concerned?” he looks genuinely confused and closing in on irritated.
“People are going to think we’re together,” you blurt, “I mean Seungmin already - ugh, it doesn’t matter, but I just want us both to be clear about things, about this,” you gesture towards the bed.
“I see…” Minho says tightly, “So, you don’t want to be seen with me, is that what I’m getting from this?”
“It’s not that! I mean if you want to whittle it down, completely ignoring all context and nuance then fine, but what I’m actually saying is that I’m just a nurse, when we made this arrangement you never said anything about going to Casinos or being on your arm to keep things casual amongst your associates. You told me that you’d pay me to take care of any injuries your guys get and that’s the position I accepted. Then we started fucking each other, and now we’re going to be playing a couple at your Casino and that’s…a lot,” you explain.
“Right,” Minho looks half amused, half pissed as he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself. You watch in silence as he flits around the room without a word and you grow increasingly nervous. It’s as if the very temperature in the room has dropped.
“Can you say something, please? It’s not my intention to hurt you-,”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Me coming up here and fucking you a couple times a week is perfectly fine, but suddenly I ask you to do me a favor - which is just to spend an evening out with me at a fucking Casino for God’s sake - and that’s the line you draw? That’s too much?” he looks at you, and you’ve never seen him look that way before, not at you. It chills you.
“I just-,”
“Stop talking,” he sighs, “You’re prettier when you don’t talk.”
Your eyes widen at his words.
“What? This is what you expect of me, correct? The big, bad, wolf? Fine. So here’s how it works now - I tell you where to be and when to be there, and you’re there. I enjoy fucking you, very much, but at the end of the day you can just be my employee. Now, back in the hospital I’m sure that comes with boundaries and scopes of responsibilities but here, all it comes with is: I tell you what to do and you do it. There is no HR complaint box, there’s you getting in the car I’ll send for you Saturday, and smiling and pretending like you’re having the time of your life while I assess the people in attendance to see if I’m going to allow them to live and operate their organizations peacefully in this city, or if I’m going to have a very bloody few months on my hands.”
You shake under the covers, fight the tears that are burning your eyeballs.
“Do you understand? Have I made myself unclear in any way?” he asks.
You shake your head.
“Words please,” he stares into you.
“Yes. I understand,” you answer, hoping he doesn’t see the way your chin wobbles.
“Good. Then from now on we don’t have to flirt around what we are or aren’t, since that’s so fucking important to you suddenly. You’ll know exactly where you stand,” he heads towards the door, “Oh, and before you get any bright ideas about running back to your miserable life at the hospital, try to remember you don’t walk away from this life. You don’t walk away from me. There’s not a hospital on this planet that will hire a nurse who sells controlled drugs out of her house.”
“I don’t sell-,”
“Oh don’t you?” he slowly walks back over and leans down close, “Because the cops on my payroll who will turn this house upside down if I ask them to, will write a report that says differently - think of the pharmacy you’ve got going on down there, my goodness. Jail time won’t suit you Kitten, so be a good girl,” he grabs your chin and kisses you hard on the lips.
You watch in absolute horror as he opens the door and steps out, your face hot and wet with tears, jaw clenched so tight in fear that you feel like your teeth might break.
“See you soon baby.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“___?”
You hear Hyunjins voice softly call through the closed bedroom door before he gently opens it.
“What are you doing in here?” you demand, not bothering to roll over to look at him.
The room is dark, you’ve laid in the same spot, naked, all day. Your pillow is damp with the tears you’ve shed between cat naps. You’ve no idea what time it actually is but his wound needs to be cleaned and the dressings changed. He’s probably also not had any more medication, and you’ve no idea what his vitals look like but you imagine he’s still dehydrated and weak from all that blood he lost.
“I haven’t seen you all day, I just…I wanted to make sure you were alright I guess,” he says, and you can hear his uneven steps hobbling towards the armchair in the corner of your room.
“You shouldn’t have walked up the steps, you’ll put too much stress on the wound,” you say flatly, though you can’t seem to find it within you to care.
“I’m turning this light on,” he says.
“Don’t! I’m not dressed,” you say, your chest flooding with shame and humiliation, a fresh batch of tears start flowing.
“Hey,” he stands up again and you hear him grunt, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you sob, which only makes more tears because how pathetic is it to say I’m fine when you’re clearly not? “Just go back downstairs - I’ll be there in a minute okay? Please Hyunjin…”
“Okay,” he says softly, “but if you’re not down there within the hour I’m coming back up here and annoying the shit out of you until you get up and eat something.”
“Fine.”
When you come down into the kitchen you say nothing to the two men who sit at the table. Jisung still seems to be on duty and is enamored with some game that’s too loud on his phone. Hyunjin on the other hand, you can feel staring at you as you make your way to the fridge and grab a yogurt.
You eat it standing over the sink, your back towards the men.
“What have you had to eat or drink today?” you ask Hyunjin as you toss the spoon into the sink, the half eaten yogurt into the garbage.
“I’ve eaten, and I’ve been drinking the gatorade and water back and forth. I’m fine,” he says with an emphasis that implies he knows you are not fine.
“Good, let’s go to your room and take a look at that wound, I’ll get your vitals too for good measure, then I’m going to bed,” you tell him.
At this Jisung looks up from his phone, “Haven’t you been asleep all day?”
“Well, considering I didn’t really sleep last night, and honestly the fact that you people keep me from sleeping most nights, I figured I’d fucking play catch up Jisung. Is that okay with you?” you snap.
“Yeah, jeez,” he huffs, “Sounds like you need it.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“Ouch,” Hyunjin winces as you peel the bandage off his stitches.
“The wound looks good, it’s a little sticky but that’s normal. Tomorrow we can have you leave the bandage off, let the air get to it,” you say.
“What happened?”
“You got stabbed in a fight,” you answer as if you don’t know what he’s really asking.
“When Lee left and you didn’t come back down I figured you were just taking some time, and then an hour passed and I thought you were just napping or something, but then the whole day went by and I thought he…” Hyunjin trails off.
“Killed me?” you finish for him, hyper focusing on carefully opening the clean bandages.
“I mean…I know that doesn’t make any sense, but yeah, kind of,” he nods.
“Well, I’m not dead,” you say.
“I can see that. Did he… do something else…” he trails off again and his dark eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks back down.
You know what he’s implying and it makes you feel sick. You’ve never done anything nonconsensual with Minho, but that was before his fucking second personality showed up.
“The only thing that happened in that room was me being made painfully aware of what I’ve really gotten myself into Hyunjin.”
“What have you gotten yourself into?”
You sigh, your fingers faltering over his skin as new tears make their way down your cheek, “You know. You know exactly,” you sniff.
Hyunjin takes the pad of his thumb and wipes some of the tears away.
“Seeing you cry kills me,” he says softly, “When we first started bringing the guys here, I thought you were this tough, bitchy Nurse Ratched type, you’d tell us all what to do, what to get, make us tell you what happened like fifty billion times. Then I realized what you were really doing.”
You sniff and wipe your tears with the back of your hand, “What are you talking about?”
“You make us do all those things, you talk us through everything so we won’t freak out. You’re tough, I’m not saying you aren’t,” he laughs, “but you’re sweet to us, to every patient you’ve ever had probably. Like last night when Felix and Bin were freaking, and you asked them about the knife and what happened and made them part of it so they had something to do - that was intentional.”
“You heard all that?” you wonder.
“Well yeah, some crazy nurse had her finger in my guts, I wasn’t taking a snooze,” he smiles.
You laugh through your snot and tears and he smiles.
“I guess my point is that I don’t know what Lee said to you upstairs, but I do know what you’ve gotten into because I’m in it too, in the thick of it. I’ve killed people ___, but you, you heal them. So if there’s even a shred of goodness in any of this, it’s you. You are the good, and I don’t want you to forget that.”
You smile and look up at him, “Why are you being so nice, hm? I think the entire time I’ve worked for Lee you and I have spoken maybe three times in passing.”
Hyunjins smile falters a little as he looks down at you, “Just because you’re always too busy to notice me doesn’t mean I don’t notice you,” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear then clears his throat, “And I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. Okay? Forget whatever Lee said to you, we all get chewed out from time to time when he’s in a bad mood but that’s just part of the business. I’ve got your back, okay?”
You nod, and because you need the extra confirmation you look at him, “Promise?”
“I promise.”
You tape his new bandage on and squeeze his hand, “Thank you Hyunjin.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
You sleep all night, it’s the first night in a long time that you’ve slept well. Surprisingly. Minhos words haunted you. He had been like a light switch going from light to dark. You had known from the get go that Minho was dangerous, you weren’t that naive, but he’d never made you feel like you were in danger. Well, that certainly was no longer the case. Maybe you slept so well because now there’s no confusion, no guessing about where things stand. He’d said that you weren’t his prisoner, and maybe you weren’t locked up or chained, but in every way that matters you are most definitely his prisoner.
When you walk down stairs you’re disappointed that Jisung is gone, you owe him an apology for snapping at him. Instead Seungmin is back, making a mess in your kitchen and not caring to clean it.
“Are you really necessary?” you groan, smacking his arm and shooing him from the kitchen.
“Meaning?” he frowns.
“Is the security detail necessary? I mean, nothing has happened this entire time and I’m getting tired of you all tracking your shit all over my house,” you gripe as you pour yourself some coffee.
“It’s not your house, is it?” Seungmin sneers, sitting down at the table with the breakfast he helped himself to.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” you smile as you sit across from him.
“And you-,”
“Shut the fuck up!” Hyunjin whines sleepily as he walks into the kitchen from the guest room. He’s getting around better. His hobble from yesterday has turned into a minor limp today.
“Minho says he’s been texting you with no response,” Seungmin chastises Hyunjin before his butt hits the chair at the table.
“My phone’s in the room,” he whines, bracing himself to stand back up.
“I’ll get it,” you say.
You see the phone on the bedside table and walk over to it, Hyunjin has left the notebook he’d been sketching in yesterday on the bed, wide open. You feel bad for peeking, considering he didn’t seem like he wanted anyone to see his drawings, but you can’t stop yourself from looking down at the page.
To your surprise, he’s drawn you. You pick up the book and stare at the lines. It’s good, really good actually, and you start flipping through the pages. Most of them are of you. Standing over the dining room table, sitting on the side of his bed, smiling, sad…he’s drawn you at least ten ways and all of them make you feel so…seen. If anyone ever asked you to describe yourself, you’d never be this kind. Never this beautiful. Never this vulnerable. Is this how he sees you?
“Like them?” Hyunjin asks from the doorway and you drop the notebook back onto the bed.
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve asked to look.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugs, “It’s not that I’m violently opposed to people looking. I mean, Jisung brought it to me yesterday while you were sleeping and I know he snuck a peek. It’s just…” he trails off.
“Personal?”
“Yeah.”
“May I?” you pick the book back up slowly and he nods, limping to the chair nearby and sitting down.
“These are so good Hyunjin, truly,” you tell him as you flip through more images.
Hyunjin seems to have drawn everyone around him to perfection. They could be black and white photographs. There’s Seungmin, whose grumpy, distanced demeanor is so well captured you giggle. Felix's angelic, ethereal face with every freckle included. Changbin’s thoughtful expression that he always wears, like he’s constantly planning his next steps. Jisungs sweet smile. Even Minho, whose eyes are just as dark and wild on the page as they are in real life. Then there’s pages of you, more than the others and you feel your face heat.
“You draw me a lot,” you state quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Like I said sweetheart, just because you’re always too busy to notice me doesn’t mean I don’t notice you. I like drawing you, it relaxes me,” he chuckles. “The lines of your profile, the way your hair falls in your face when you’re working, the expression you wear when you're worried about us,” he looks at you, “I love watching you. You’re so beautiful.”
“I didn’t realize…” you say softly, suddenly at a loss for words, as you place the book gently back on the bed.
Hyunjin licks his lips and shrugs, “That’s understandable, I mean, Lee demands most of your attention since you’ve been around, and when he’s not here you’re usually elbow deep in blood so I just keep my distance.”
At the mention of Minho you’re reminded of the reality of your situation and you take a breath, picking up Hyunjins phone as you originally intended. You walk it over and gently hand it to him, his fingers envelop yours for a moment and he looks up at you wantingly. You remove your hand from his as gently as you can and lay it on his shoulder giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t look at me like that, okay?” you say softly.
“Why not?”
“It makes me want to kiss you,” you say shyly.
“Would that be so bad?” he half smiles and you screw your eyes shut.
“I’m not a whore for you all to pass around,” you say stiffly.
“No, you’re not, is that really the impression you got from everything I just said? That I think you’re the resident whore, here for our pleasure?” he frowns.
You sigh, “No, I’m sorry I just…” you grab his hand again, “I’m scared of him, Hyunjin. Terrified. I’m scared to do anything that will make him angry.”
“He doesn’t have to know, and I’ll protect you,” he whispers, his fingers tracing lines down your arm, he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.
“He knows everything, eventually, and you and I both know he’s the only person you can’t protect me from,” you pull away again and this time leave the room.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
Later that evening you sit in the living room with Seungmin and Hyunjin watching some horror show on Netflix. You’ve not paid a bit of attention to it, though Seungmin is hooked from his favorite recliner. Every few moments you look over to the other side of the sofa and see Hyunjin looking back at you in the darkness, playing with his bottom lip and looking like he wants you so badly it makes your insides clench. You’ve never been so grateful to have Seungmin sitting in your living room, because you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t crawl over to Hyunjin and take his lips with yours if Seungmin wasn’t there.
Suddenly your phone rings and movie night comes to a screeching halt.
“Hello?”
“Jeongin got shot!” Jisungs voice cries into the speaker and Seungmin and Hyunjin both stiffen up.
Jeongin is the baby, and the other men treat him like their pet. They love him, from what you’ve observed, and you know your every move is going to be watched like a hawk.
“Where?” you ask, standing up to flick lights on in the kitchen.
“At some assholes house, we were there to ask some questions about what happened to Hyunjin and-,”
“Where on his body, Jisung?”
“Shoulder, in his shoulder,” he answers.
You breathe a sigh of relief, you can handle a shoulder.
“We’ll have everything ready, come quickly,” you say, then hang up the phone and get back to work.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“You’re not to use this arm for several days, you hear me?” you look at Jeongin who looks way too proud to have gotten his first gunshot wound.
“Yeah, I hear you,” he smiles, a little dopey from the pain pill you gave him.
“You’re lucky I was able to pry that thing out of you whole,” you remind his smug ass.
“Mmhmm,” he yawns.
“Someone drive this kid home so he can sleep,” you laugh. Jisung rushes to Jeongin to help keep him upright.
“I’ll drive them home,” Seungmin offers.
“Make sure to remind him not to sleep on that side, and keep his arm in the sling while he’s up and about,” you tell them as Seungmin and Jisung help Jeongin out the door.
“Thank you sweet princess,” Jeongin grins like a doped up disney character and blows you a kiss from across the room.
The door shuts and you start cleaning up the mess. It was pretty clean, so not as much blood as there was with Hyunjin just a few days prior. You toss the sheets into the wash, and get rid of the bullet you pulled out of Jeongins shoulder. Everything else goes into a steamer for sanitation.
“You did good, taking care of the kid,” Hyunjin says walking into the kitchen. In the rush of things you’d almost forgotten he was here, almost forgotten about the suggestive things he’d said to you earlier. Now you’re alone with him.
“It was an easy one,” you shrug, not turning around, instead you start on some dishes left over from supper.
“I locked up,” he says, voice getting closer, “checked the perimeter outside, we’re all good.”
“Thank you,” you slightly turn your face and give him a soft smile.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, you can feel him behind you as you splash suds around the sink, you can feel his body heat against your back.
You turn to face him, drying your hands on the side of your shirt, “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never had the chance to be alone with you,” he shrugs.
“We shouldn’t be close like this…” you whisper.
“Why not? Don’t you feel something here? Because I do, and maybe it’s just the stupid crush I’ve had on you since you started, but it feels deeper than that,” he whispers back, his hand falls gently on the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly close.
You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder, “I’m so turned around I don’t know what I feel, or what I want, or what to do with myself.”
“Then let me help you not feel so turned around,” he says, he lifts your chin up with his fingers and brushes his lips over yours softly.
It starts so slow, so soft it feels like kissing a ghost. His lips roll against yours with more and more pressure, your back pressed against the kitchen cupboards. You let your arms wrap around him, being careful not to hurt him where he may be sore and his hand gets buried in your hair, his thumb tracing gentle lines over your cheek as he anchors you to him.
His tongue darts out and you meet it with your own, his urgency more palpable now, his body pressed harder against yours. He makes a soft noise into your mouth and you melt, not a moan, but a plea. It’s not until he attempts to lift you up onto the counter that your eyes pop open and you pull away.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” you remind him breathlessly.
“I don’t care,” he smiles, pressing himself against you again, capturing your mouth once more.
You wrap your arms around him again, but then a familiar pounding hits the front door.
“Minho.”
You both say it simultaneously and leap apart.
To be safe, Hyunjin picks up his gun from the side table before he opens the door, you’ve come to recognize this as standard protocol with them anytime someone opens a door. You wonder if they do this everywhere, or just at the safe house, it must feel ridiculous to have to open your own door armed.
“Where is he? Is he alright?” Minho brushes past Hyunjin and comes in, looking for Jeongin, “I came as soon as I saw the text. I was in a meeting.”
“He was shot in the shoulder, I pulled the bullet out whole, patched him up, gave him something for the pain and sent Jisung and Seungmin to drive him home and get him settled. He’s fine,” you report.
Minho sighs with relief and nods, “Good, thank you.”
The room goes silent, the only noise is Hyunjin sitting down on the creaking couch. You’ve got no idea what to say to Minho, the mere sight of him makes your skin crawl, makes you angry, but most of all makes you scared. You ball your fists up in case your fingers start to tremble.
“I uh, I owe you an apology,” he looks at you, closes some of the distance between you but not close enough to scare, “The things I said yesterday, I think I was a little too harsh with you, I hope you can forgive me Kitten.”
He touches the side of your cheek gently and you fight every fiber of your body not to recoil, afraid he’ll take it personally and hurt you.
“Of course,” you manage, though your voice sounds shaky, breathless. So you clear your throat and look at him directly, steeling your nerves, “Forgotten.”
He smiles and pulls you into him, resting your head snug between his neck and shoulder and you wrap your arms around his waist. Looking beyond into the living room Hyunjin stares at you, your eyes locked in a knowing glance, a sad smile on his face.
“Good,” Minho says gently, then kisses your cheek. He heads towards the living room to sit with Hyunjin while you finish what you were doing in the kitchen.
“How are you feeling, then?” he asks.
“Sore,” Hyunjin shrugs, “Don’t feel much else.”
“How about I drive you home tonight?” Minho suggests and you drop the plate you were scrubbing into the sink with an annoyingly loud crash.
“Oh, I…uh,” Hyunjin looks in your direction, “If the doc gives me the go ahead then sure.”
“Darling? What do you think? I feel like Hyunjin would rest better at home, in his own bed, can you get anything he needs to take with him?” Minho asks.
“Um, sure,” you nod, not really having a better reason and not good enough at lying to think of anything. “He’s been on antibiotics more than 24 hours and there’s no sign of infection or any other issue. The wound will be sore for several more days but you can treat that with Acetaminophen or Ibuprofen. I’ll get your antibiotics and some clean bandages,” you smile. “Oh, but you will need to come back in about a week so I can remove the stitches.”
You gather up Hyunjins things, his antibiotics and stuff he’ll need to treat himself at home. You feel robbed of time with him and it makes you feel ridiculous. You know this is probably for the better. Minho was very plain with you in that he’s not your boyfriend, but all the same, something tells you he doesn’t share well. All Hyunjins crush will achieve is both of you dead or at least very fucked up. Besides, you don’t know what you feel, you’ve not had a spare moment in the last few days to slow down and work yourself out - such a thing will probably take a lifetime you think.
“Here’s a bag of everything,” you hand it to him back in the living room, “I want you to continue the antibiotics twice daily until this bottle is empty. Try to let your stitches air out when you can, but keep a clean bandage on when you sleep, or if anything is going to be rubbing against it. Okay?”
“Got it doll,” he nods, “I’m going to go grab my stuff, be right back.” You watch as he skulks off to the guest room, leaving you alone with Minho.
“I really am sorry, ___,” he wraps his arms around you from behind, “I hope you know I’d never harm or hurt you unless I had to.”
You could pick apart that sentence for a year and still not unpack all the things wrong with what he just said. You want to snap at him, push him off you, but now you know what devil lies under that surface of sticky sweetness.
“Stop apologizing,” you force a smile, “You’ve been under a lot of stress these last few days, and I shouldn’t have even said the things I said. You’ve been good to me Minho, let’s just put it behind us,” you lie to the best of your ability.
“I don't deserve you,” he brushes some hair out of your face and kisses you softly. You try not to think about Hyunjins lips on you just moments ago. “Christopher will be here around one or two in the afternoon tomorrow with your dresses, wear something pretty for me, yeah?”
You nod and smile as Hyunjin walks back into the room, a bag of his personal effects over his shoulder.
“Thank you for everything ___, I owe you,” he smiles and pats your shoulder as he and Minho make their way out the door. You lock it behind them then turn to face the house you’ve been living in for the last few months. You’re alone again.
You couldn’t sleep if you wanted to, so you decide to go strip Hyunjins bed and toss the sheets in the wash. When you pick up the pillow to remove the case you see a folded piece of paper underneath. You recognize the sheet from his sketchbook and frantically unfold it.
It’s a sketch of you, with a note.
This one is my favorite so far. You’re the good in this shit show we’re stuck in, don’t ever forget that beautiful. Love, Hyunjin.
Endnotes:
1. Taglist: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict @simpforleeknaur @the-sweetest-rosie @hyunjinhoexxx @aeri-skzver @mbioooo0000 @seungminindabuilding @moni-logues @shioriyametho - if your @ is in bold then I couldn’t tag you for whatever reason - if you need to adjust settings go do the thang or if I need to do something let me know (I am not technologically competent).
2. Eeek! Part two. I am always so nervous to do multi-chap fics bc I worry people won’t like the direction I’m going and that it will effect my decisions lol also I just typically like working with smaller worlds BUT this fic has thus far been a fun little ride, so I hope you all like it. More to come soon, and as always here’s your virtual smooch😘
Ahhh, thank you. I'm glad you are still liking it love <3
Safe. (Part Two)
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 6.5k
Read Pt. One Here
- PART TWO -
When you wake up this time, unlike the previous evening, you’re on the couch in the living room. You hear whistling and dishes clanking from the kitchen, and the roar of a load of laundry going. You sit up and rub your eyes. You know Hyunjin isn’t feeling well enough to be bustling about your kitchen and Seungmin would never. So, you’re not surprised to see Han Jisung floating around the kitchen, putting things where they don’t go, while he flip flops between whistling and singing random songs.
The scent of coffee is in the air, and that takes precedence over other thoughts. So you lift your stiff body off the couch to greet him.
“Where did my best buddy go off to?” you joke dryly as you grab a mug from the cupboard.
“Oh! Good morning, uh…Seungmin? He and I switched out shifts, I didn’t figure you cared so we didn’t wake you up,” Han explains, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder.
“Thank you for cleaning,” you look around. He’s cleaned everything from last night, the counters, the floors, the sheet you put over the dining table is in the laundry, along with some bloody towels and clothes. The kitchen and dining area look like a normal house again, and not a surgery center.
“Eh,” he shrugs, pouring himself a refill, “I assumed it was a hard night if you passed out on the couch, just wanted to help. Um…how is he?” Jisung asks.
“Let’s go see, besides, he needs to eat here in the kitchen, needs to walk around so that wound doesn’t start healing in the wrong position,” you say, then take a big gulp of coffee before setting it down on the counter.
Hyunjin is awake when you and Jisung walk into the room, he’s got his tongue tucked between his teeth and he’s concentrating hard on an open notebook, a simple #2 pencil seems to be possessed by something as he drags it across the page. For several seconds he doesn’t even seem to notice anyone has walked into the room until Jisung runs into the chest of drawers near the door.
Like a shot, Hyunjin snaps the notebook closed and his face goes from wild concentration to that cool, unbothered demeanor you’ve grown accustomed to with him.
“What are you drawing?” you can’t help but wonder.
“I just like to doodle, it’s nothing,” he says a little too quickly and you get the feeling he doesn’t want you to see his work, fine, you’re not here to argue.
“Up you go,” you stand by his bed and beckon him with your fingers. “We’re going to go eat at the kitchen table, you need to walk around.”
“Uh, pardon? Was it not you that sewed my damn side back together last night? Can’t you just bring it in here?” he asks.
“You have stitches Hyunjin, there are women in hospitals all over the world right now who just had seven layers of their guts sliced open, a literal human being dragged out, and then those guts stitched, cauterized, and stapled back together - and they have to get up and walk as soon as the spinal block wears off - so get your ass up, go sit at the table, and I’ll make you some breakfast,” you instruct, patting the side of his face with a smug smile.
“You’re kind of mean, you know that?” he half smiles.
“I know,” you wave as you walk back to the kitchen.
“Seven fucking layers? I didn't even know there were seven layers…” you hear Jisung whisper as he assists Hyunjin out of bed.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
Later in the afternoon Minho pays another surprise visit. You think he must favor Hyunjin, he’s never been this diligent on checking in. Or, maybe he wants to make good on his promise to make you his when there wasn't a man bleeding out on your table. The thought gives you an unhealthy excitement.
“You’re alive!” Minho grins and gives Hyunjins shoulders a shake.
“Yes sir,” he nods, “Gonna take more than some bitch ass blade to take me out.”
“Of course,” Minho smiles, then looks at you, “You did wonderfully love. He looks right as rain.”
“Well, I’d still like to monitor him for infection, though I do have him started on antibiotics, but yes, I think he’ll be back to normal in a few days,” you report.
“Good! Then you’ll both join me this coming Saturday evening,” Minho casually goes to the fridge and plucks a water out.
You and Hyunjin look at each other quizzically. You’ve never been asked to do anything aside from bandaging Minho’s guys.
“You mean me?” you ask, looking around. Jisung is upstairs taking a nap, so there are no other people in the room.
“Yes, I mean you,” Minho confirms. “This Saturday I’m hosting a meeting of sorts with some of our associates. Specifically, I want to ensure they’re on our side of things. The intel on your attack leads to Kim Taehyung. I guess those guys that attacked the three of you were planted there by him. I’ve had just about enough of the Kim organization pushing back lately, after we’ve been so generous in letting them live and operate around the gun sales - but the attack on the three of you last night - in addition to him selling to our clients, that was the last straw,” he explains. “I plan to obliterate their ops, and make sure Kim Taehyung never sees another daylight.”
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, you have no idea who Minho is talking about but the visions of all the ways this Kim Taehyung is going to pay for what he’s done is overwhelmingly gruesome.
“Anyway,” Minho clears his throat, “Saturday at the Casino, I’ll make sure our business partners and associates are all on the same page, if not then I’ll assume they’re enemies now, but in order to keep the tension down I’d like it to be casual - which is where you come in darling,” Minho looks at you.
“I don’t understand…you need first aid on site or?”
Minho laughs, “No love, I want you there as my date, so to speak, I’ve told the others to bring their wives, mistresses, whomever - it’s a party, and I want to keep it light, I’ll look less uptight if I’ve got something to occasionally hold my attention,” he smiles, then looks at Hyunjin, “I’m sure Kim will have some of his guys planted around the casino and I want them to see you there Hwang. I know they targeted you because of your reputation as my best, and they need to know it was barely a scratch.”
Hyunjin nods, “Of course.”
“Good, then it’s settled.”
You say nothing, still too stunned to speak. You don’t really want to go to his Casino. You don’t want to be seen as his…anything. You feel like you’re being debuted as something you never agreed to, and you’re also sure if you bring it up he’ll brush it off as nothing, that you’re reading too much into his invitation or worse, he’ll be livid for your insubordination. You don’t like this, you didn’t agree to dates, or public appearances. When Minho approached you in the hospital parking lot that morning all those months ago, the parameters were clear: He’ll pay you and keep you supplied with medical necessities if you tend to he and his men. Period.
And yet. On the other hand, you can’t quite explain the flicker of giddiness in your stomach at the thought of having a night out with him. It’s exciting and yet simultaneously makes you hate yourself.
This is your fault. You never should’ve fallen for that face, that misleading smile that conceals the evil within, that makes you think he’s harmless. He’s not, and you climbed into bed with him literally and figuratively, you’ve done this to yourself. You know you’re in too deep even as he looks at you now from across the room and motions up the stairs with his eyes, the excitement pools immediately between your legs and you get up and lead the way, not caring your house is occupied with two other people, not caring about Saturdays Casino night, only caring about feeling good. You’re in too deep, and you don’t think you can pull yourself out.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“So, about Saturday,” you say, pulling the sheets up under your arms, concealing your nudity.
“Hm?” Minho is just out of the shower, he wraps a towel around his waist and sits back down on the bed, picking his phone up to check it.
“I’m just a little concerned…” you trail off, not sure what to say or how to say it.
“If you’re worried about what to wear, don't be,” he says casually without looking up from his phone, “I’ll send Christopher over with dress options and accessories that afternoon for you to choose from.”
“That’s not really what I’m worried about, but that’s nice of you,” you say.
“Then what?” he finally looks over at you.
“It’s just…It’s just that surely there’s someone else you’d rather have with you than me, I’m just for emergencies you know? Medical emergencies,” you clarify.
He laughs dryly, “You said you felt lonely here, that you’re not sure how to act normal when you’re not with us, so I figured I’d take you out into our world, that way you don’t have to worry about how to act or not act. It’ll be fun, you’ll get to dress up, have drinks, eat delicious food, and play some games if you’d like. Why are you concerned?” he looks genuinely confused and closing in on irritated.
“People are going to think we’re together,” you blurt, “I mean Seungmin already - ugh, it doesn’t matter, but I just want us both to be clear about things, about this,” you gesture towards the bed.
“I see…” Minho says tightly, “So, you don’t want to be seen with me, is that what I’m getting from this?”
“It’s not that! I mean if you want to whittle it down, completely ignoring all context and nuance then fine, but what I’m actually saying is that I’m just a nurse, when we made this arrangement you never said anything about going to Casinos or being on your arm to keep things casual amongst your associates. You told me that you’d pay me to take care of any injuries your guys get and that’s the position I accepted. Then we started fucking each other, and now we’re going to be playing a couple at your Casino and that’s…a lot,” you explain.
“Right,” Minho looks half amused, half pissed as he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself. You watch in silence as he flits around the room without a word and you grow increasingly nervous. It’s as if the very temperature in the room has dropped.
“Can you say something, please? It’s not my intention to hurt you-,”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Me coming up here and fucking you a couple times a week is perfectly fine, but suddenly I ask you to do me a favor - which is just to spend an evening out with me at a fucking Casino for God’s sake - and that’s the line you draw? That’s too much?” he looks at you, and you’ve never seen him look that way before, not at you. It chills you.
“I just-,”
“Stop talking,” he sighs, “You’re prettier when you don’t talk.”
Your eyes widen at his words.
“What? This is what you expect of me, correct? The big, bad, wolf? Fine. So here’s how it works now - I tell you where to be and when to be there, and you’re there. I enjoy fucking you, very much, but at the end of the day you can just be my employee. Now, back in the hospital I’m sure that comes with boundaries and scopes of responsibilities but here, all it comes with is: I tell you what to do and you do it. There is no HR complaint box, there’s you getting in the car I’ll send for you Saturday, and smiling and pretending like you’re having the time of your life while I assess the people in attendance to see if I’m going to allow them to live and operate their organizations peacefully in this city, or if I’m going to have a very bloody few months on my hands.”
You shake under the covers, fight the tears that are burning your eyeballs.
“Do you understand? Have I made myself unclear in any way?” he asks.
You shake your head.
“Words please,” he stares into you.
“Yes. I understand,” you answer, hoping he doesn’t see the way your chin wobbles.
“Good. Then from now on we don’t have to flirt around what we are or aren’t, since that’s so fucking important to you suddenly. You’ll know exactly where you stand,” he heads towards the door, “Oh, and before you get any bright ideas about running back to your miserable life at the hospital, try to remember you don’t walk away from this life. You don’t walk away from me. There’s not a hospital on this planet that will hire a nurse who sells controlled drugs out of her house.”
“I don’t sell-,”
“Oh don’t you?” he slowly walks back over and leans down close, “Because the cops on my payroll who will turn this house upside down if I ask them to, will write a report that says differently - think of the pharmacy you’ve got going on down there, my goodness. Jail time won’t suit you Kitten, so be a good girl,” he grabs your chin and kisses you hard on the lips.
You watch in absolute horror as he opens the door and steps out, your face hot and wet with tears, jaw clenched so tight in fear that you feel like your teeth might break.
“See you soon baby.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“___?”
You hear Hyunjins voice softly call through the closed bedroom door before he gently opens it.
“What are you doing in here?” you demand, not bothering to roll over to look at him.
The room is dark, you’ve laid in the same spot, naked, all day. Your pillow is damp with the tears you’ve shed between cat naps. You’ve no idea what time it actually is but his wound needs to be cleaned and the dressings changed. He’s probably also not had any more medication, and you’ve no idea what his vitals look like but you imagine he’s still dehydrated and weak from all that blood he lost.
“I haven’t seen you all day, I just…I wanted to make sure you were alright I guess,” he says, and you can hear his uneven steps hobbling towards the armchair in the corner of your room.
“You shouldn’t have walked up the steps, you’ll put too much stress on the wound,” you say flatly, though you can’t seem to find it within you to care.
“I’m turning this light on,” he says.
“Don’t! I’m not dressed,” you say, your chest flooding with shame and humiliation, a fresh batch of tears start flowing.
“Hey,” he stands up again and you hear him grunt, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you sob, which only makes more tears because how pathetic is it to say I’m fine when you’re clearly not? “Just go back downstairs - I’ll be there in a minute okay? Please Hyunjin…”
“Okay,” he says softly, “but if you’re not down there within the hour I’m coming back up here and annoying the shit out of you until you get up and eat something.”
“Fine.”
When you come down into the kitchen you say nothing to the two men who sit at the table. Jisung still seems to be on duty and is enamored with some game that’s too loud on his phone. Hyunjin on the other hand, you can feel staring at you as you make your way to the fridge and grab a yogurt.
You eat it standing over the sink, your back towards the men.
“What have you had to eat or drink today?” you ask Hyunjin as you toss the spoon into the sink, the half eaten yogurt into the garbage.
“I’ve eaten, and I’ve been drinking the gatorade and water back and forth. I’m fine,” he says with an emphasis that implies he knows you are not fine.
“Good, let’s go to your room and take a look at that wound, I’ll get your vitals too for good measure, then I’m going to bed,” you tell him.
At this Jisung looks up from his phone, “Haven’t you been asleep all day?”
“Well, considering I didn’t really sleep last night, and honestly the fact that you people keep me from sleeping most nights, I figured I’d fucking play catch up Jisung. Is that okay with you?” you snap.
“Yeah, jeez,” he huffs, “Sounds like you need it.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“Ouch,” Hyunjin winces as you peel the bandage off his stitches.
“The wound looks good, it’s a little sticky but that’s normal. Tomorrow we can have you leave the bandage off, let the air get to it,” you say.
“What happened?”
“You got stabbed in a fight,” you answer as if you don’t know what he’s really asking.
“When Lee left and you didn’t come back down I figured you were just taking some time, and then an hour passed and I thought you were just napping or something, but then the whole day went by and I thought he…” Hyunjin trails off.
“Killed me?” you finish for him, hyper focusing on carefully opening the clean bandages.
“I mean…I know that doesn’t make any sense, but yeah, kind of,” he nods.
“Well, I’m not dead,” you say.
“I can see that. Did he… do something else…” he trails off again and his dark eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks back down.
You know what he’s implying and it makes you feel sick. You’ve never done anything nonconsensual with Minho, but that was before his fucking second personality showed up.
“The only thing that happened in that room was me being made painfully aware of what I’ve really gotten myself into Hyunjin.”
“What have you gotten yourself into?”
You sigh, your fingers faltering over his skin as new tears make their way down your cheek, “You know. You know exactly,” you sniff.
Hyunjin takes the pad of his thumb and wipes some of the tears away.
“Seeing you cry kills me,” he says softly, “When we first started bringing the guys here, I thought you were this tough, bitchy Nurse Ratched type, you’d tell us all what to do, what to get, make us tell you what happened like fifty billion times. Then I realized what you were really doing.”
You sniff and wipe your tears with the back of your hand, “What are you talking about?”
“You make us do all those things, you talk us through everything so we won’t freak out. You’re tough, I’m not saying you aren’t,” he laughs, “but you’re sweet to us, to every patient you’ve ever had probably. Like last night when Felix and Bin were freaking, and you asked them about the knife and what happened and made them part of it so they had something to do - that was intentional.”
“You heard all that?” you wonder.
“Well yeah, some crazy nurse had her finger in my guts, I wasn’t taking a snooze,” he smiles.
You laugh through your snot and tears and he smiles.
“I guess my point is that I don’t know what Lee said to you upstairs, but I do know what you’ve gotten into because I’m in it too, in the thick of it. I’ve killed people ___, but you, you heal them. So if there’s even a shred of goodness in any of this, it’s you. You are the good, and I don’t want you to forget that.”
You smile and look up at him, “Why are you being so nice, hm? I think the entire time I’ve worked for Lee you and I have spoken maybe three times in passing.”
Hyunjins smile falters a little as he looks down at you, “Just because you’re always too busy to notice me doesn’t mean I don’t notice you,” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear then clears his throat, “And I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. Okay? Forget whatever Lee said to you, we all get chewed out from time to time when he’s in a bad mood but that’s just part of the business. I’ve got your back, okay?”
You nod, and because you need the extra confirmation you look at him, “Promise?”
“I promise.”
You tape his new bandage on and squeeze his hand, “Thank you Hyunjin.”
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
You sleep all night, it’s the first night in a long time that you’ve slept well. Surprisingly. Minhos words haunted you. He had been like a light switch going from light to dark. You had known from the get go that Minho was dangerous, you weren’t that naive, but he’d never made you feel like you were in danger. Well, that certainly was no longer the case. Maybe you slept so well because now there’s no confusion, no guessing about where things stand. He’d said that you weren’t his prisoner, and maybe you weren’t locked up or chained, but in every way that matters you are most definitely his prisoner.
When you walk down stairs you’re disappointed that Jisung is gone, you owe him an apology for snapping at him. Instead Seungmin is back, making a mess in your kitchen and not caring to clean it.
“Are you really necessary?” you groan, smacking his arm and shooing him from the kitchen.
“Meaning?” he frowns.
“Is the security detail necessary? I mean, nothing has happened this entire time and I’m getting tired of you all tracking your shit all over my house,” you gripe as you pour yourself some coffee.
“It’s not your house, is it?” Seungmin sneers, sitting down at the table with the breakfast he helped himself to.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” you smile as you sit across from him.
“And you-,”
“Shut the fuck up!” Hyunjin whines sleepily as he walks into the kitchen from the guest room. He’s getting around better. His hobble from yesterday has turned into a minor limp today.
“Minho says he’s been texting you with no response,” Seungmin chastises Hyunjin before his butt hits the chair at the table.
“My phone’s in the room,” he whines, bracing himself to stand back up.
“I’ll get it,” you say.
You see the phone on the bedside table and walk over to it, Hyunjin has left the notebook he’d been sketching in yesterday on the bed, wide open. You feel bad for peeking, considering he didn’t seem like he wanted anyone to see his drawings, but you can’t stop yourself from looking down at the page.
To your surprise, he’s drawn you. You pick up the book and stare at the lines. It’s good, really good actually, and you start flipping through the pages. Most of them are of you. Standing over the dining room table, sitting on the side of his bed, smiling, sad…he’s drawn you at least ten ways and all of them make you feel so…seen. If anyone ever asked you to describe yourself, you’d never be this kind. Never this beautiful. Never this vulnerable. Is this how he sees you?
“Like them?” Hyunjin asks from the doorway and you drop the notebook back onto the bed.
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve asked to look.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugs, “It’s not that I’m violently opposed to people looking. I mean, Jisung brought it to me yesterday while you were sleeping and I know he snuck a peek. It’s just…” he trails off.
“Personal?”
“Yeah.”
“May I?” you pick the book back up slowly and he nods, limping to the chair nearby and sitting down.
“These are so good Hyunjin, truly,” you tell him as you flip through more images.
Hyunjin seems to have drawn everyone around him to perfection. They could be black and white photographs. There’s Seungmin, whose grumpy, distanced demeanor is so well captured you giggle. Felix's angelic, ethereal face with every freckle included. Changbin’s thoughtful expression that he always wears, like he’s constantly planning his next steps. Jisungs sweet smile. Even Minho, whose eyes are just as dark and wild on the page as they are in real life. Then there’s pages of you, more than the others and you feel your face heat.
“You draw me a lot,” you state quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Like I said sweetheart, just because you’re always too busy to notice me doesn’t mean I don’t notice you. I like drawing you, it relaxes me,” he chuckles. “The lines of your profile, the way your hair falls in your face when you’re working, the expression you wear when you're worried about us,” he looks at you, “I love watching you. You’re so beautiful.”
“I didn’t realize…” you say softly, suddenly at a loss for words, as you place the book gently back on the bed.
Hyunjin licks his lips and shrugs, “That’s understandable, I mean, Lee demands most of your attention since you’ve been around, and when he’s not here you’re usually elbow deep in blood so I just keep my distance.”
At the mention of Minho you’re reminded of the reality of your situation and you take a breath, picking up Hyunjins phone as you originally intended. You walk it over and gently hand it to him, his fingers envelop yours for a moment and he looks up at you wantingly. You remove your hand from his as gently as you can and lay it on his shoulder giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t look at me like that, okay?” you say softly.
“Why not?”
“It makes me want to kiss you,” you say shyly.
“Would that be so bad?” he half smiles and you screw your eyes shut.
“I’m not a whore for you all to pass around,” you say stiffly.
“No, you’re not, is that really the impression you got from everything I just said? That I think you’re the resident whore, here for our pleasure?” he frowns.
You sigh, “No, I’m sorry I just…” you grab his hand again, “I’m scared of him, Hyunjin. Terrified. I’m scared to do anything that will make him angry.”
“He doesn’t have to know, and I’ll protect you,” he whispers, his fingers tracing lines down your arm, he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.
“He knows everything, eventually, and you and I both know he’s the only person you can’t protect me from,” you pull away again and this time leave the room.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
Later that evening you sit in the living room with Seungmin and Hyunjin watching some horror show on Netflix. You’ve not paid a bit of attention to it, though Seungmin is hooked from his favorite recliner. Every few moments you look over to the other side of the sofa and see Hyunjin looking back at you in the darkness, playing with his bottom lip and looking like he wants you so badly it makes your insides clench. You’ve never been so grateful to have Seungmin sitting in your living room, because you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t crawl over to Hyunjin and take his lips with yours if Seungmin wasn’t there.
Suddenly your phone rings and movie night comes to a screeching halt.
“Hello?”
“Jeongin got shot!” Jisungs voice cries into the speaker and Seungmin and Hyunjin both stiffen up.
Jeongin is the baby, and the other men treat him like their pet. They love him, from what you’ve observed, and you know your every move is going to be watched like a hawk.
“Where?” you ask, standing up to flick lights on in the kitchen.
“At some assholes house, we were there to ask some questions about what happened to Hyunjin and-,”
“Where on his body, Jisung?”
“Shoulder, in his shoulder,” he answers.
You breathe a sigh of relief, you can handle a shoulder.
“We’ll have everything ready, come quickly,” you say, then hang up the phone and get back to work.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“You’re not to use this arm for several days, you hear me?” you look at Jeongin who looks way too proud to have gotten his first gunshot wound.
“Yeah, I hear you,” he smiles, a little dopey from the pain pill you gave him.
“You’re lucky I was able to pry that thing out of you whole,” you remind his smug ass.
“Mmhmm,” he yawns.
“Someone drive this kid home so he can sleep,” you laugh. Jisung rushes to Jeongin to help keep him upright.
“I’ll drive them home,” Seungmin offers.
“Make sure to remind him not to sleep on that side, and keep his arm in the sling while he’s up and about,” you tell them as Seungmin and Jisung help Jeongin out the door.
“Thank you sweet princess,” Jeongin grins like a doped up disney character and blows you a kiss from across the room.
The door shuts and you start cleaning up the mess. It was pretty clean, so not as much blood as there was with Hyunjin just a few days prior. You toss the sheets into the wash, and get rid of the bullet you pulled out of Jeongins shoulder. Everything else goes into a steamer for sanitation.
“You did good, taking care of the kid,” Hyunjin says walking into the kitchen. In the rush of things you’d almost forgotten he was here, almost forgotten about the suggestive things he’d said to you earlier. Now you’re alone with him.
“It was an easy one,” you shrug, not turning around, instead you start on some dishes left over from supper.
“I locked up,” he says, voice getting closer, “checked the perimeter outside, we’re all good.”
“Thank you,” you slightly turn your face and give him a soft smile.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, you can feel him behind you as you splash suds around the sink, you can feel his body heat against your back.
You turn to face him, drying your hands on the side of your shirt, “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never had the chance to be alone with you,” he shrugs.
“We shouldn’t be close like this…” you whisper.
“Why not? Don’t you feel something here? Because I do, and maybe it’s just the stupid crush I’ve had on you since you started, but it feels deeper than that,” he whispers back, his hand falls gently on the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly close.
You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder, “I’m so turned around I don’t know what I feel, or what I want, or what to do with myself.”
“Then let me help you not feel so turned around,” he says, he lifts your chin up with his fingers and brushes his lips over yours softly.
It starts so slow, so soft it feels like kissing a ghost. His lips roll against yours with more and more pressure, your back pressed against the kitchen cupboards. You let your arms wrap around him, being careful not to hurt him where he may be sore and his hand gets buried in your hair, his thumb tracing gentle lines over your cheek as he anchors you to him.
His tongue darts out and you meet it with your own, his urgency more palpable now, his body pressed harder against yours. He makes a soft noise into your mouth and you melt, not a moan, but a plea. It’s not until he attempts to lift you up onto the counter that your eyes pop open and you pull away.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” you remind him breathlessly.
“I don’t care,” he smiles, pressing himself against you again, capturing your mouth once more.
You wrap your arms around him again, but then a familiar pounding hits the front door.
“Minho.”
You both say it simultaneously and leap apart.
To be safe, Hyunjin picks up his gun from the side table before he opens the door, you’ve come to recognize this as standard protocol with them anytime someone opens a door. You wonder if they do this everywhere, or just at the safe house, it must feel ridiculous to have to open your own door armed.
“Where is he? Is he alright?” Minho brushes past Hyunjin and comes in, looking for Jeongin, “I came as soon as I saw the text. I was in a meeting.”
“He was shot in the shoulder, I pulled the bullet out whole, patched him up, gave him something for the pain and sent Jisung and Seungmin to drive him home and get him settled. He’s fine,” you report.
Minho sighs with relief and nods, “Good, thank you.”
The room goes silent, the only noise is Hyunjin sitting down on the creaking couch. You’ve got no idea what to say to Minho, the mere sight of him makes your skin crawl, makes you angry, but most of all makes you scared. You ball your fists up in case your fingers start to tremble.
“I uh, I owe you an apology,” he looks at you, closes some of the distance between you but not close enough to scare, “The things I said yesterday, I think I was a little too harsh with you, I hope you can forgive me Kitten.”
He touches the side of your cheek gently and you fight every fiber of your body not to recoil, afraid he’ll take it personally and hurt you.
“Of course,” you manage, though your voice sounds shaky, breathless. So you clear your throat and look at him directly, steeling your nerves, “Forgotten.”
He smiles and pulls you into him, resting your head snug between his neck and shoulder and you wrap your arms around his waist. Looking beyond into the living room Hyunjin stares at you, your eyes locked in a knowing glance, a sad smile on his face.
“Good,” Minho says gently, then kisses your cheek. He heads towards the living room to sit with Hyunjin while you finish what you were doing in the kitchen.
“How are you feeling, then?” he asks.
“Sore,” Hyunjin shrugs, “Don’t feel much else.”
“How about I drive you home tonight?” Minho suggests and you drop the plate you were scrubbing into the sink with an annoyingly loud crash.
“Oh, I…uh,” Hyunjin looks in your direction, “If the doc gives me the go ahead then sure.”
“Darling? What do you think? I feel like Hyunjin would rest better at home, in his own bed, can you get anything he needs to take with him?” Minho asks.
“Um, sure,” you nod, not really having a better reason and not good enough at lying to think of anything. “He’s been on antibiotics more than 24 hours and there’s no sign of infection or any other issue. The wound will be sore for several more days but you can treat that with Acetaminophen or Ibuprofen. I’ll get your antibiotics and some clean bandages,” you smile. “Oh, but you will need to come back in about a week so I can remove the stitches.”
You gather up Hyunjins things, his antibiotics and stuff he’ll need to treat himself at home. You feel robbed of time with him and it makes you feel ridiculous. You know this is probably for the better. Minho was very plain with you in that he’s not your boyfriend, but all the same, something tells you he doesn’t share well. All Hyunjins crush will achieve is both of you dead or at least very fucked up. Besides, you don’t know what you feel, you’ve not had a spare moment in the last few days to slow down and work yourself out - such a thing will probably take a lifetime you think.
“Here’s a bag of everything,” you hand it to him back in the living room, “I want you to continue the antibiotics twice daily until this bottle is empty. Try to let your stitches air out when you can, but keep a clean bandage on when you sleep, or if anything is going to be rubbing against it. Okay?”
“Got it doll,” he nods, “I’m going to go grab my stuff, be right back.” You watch as he skulks off to the guest room, leaving you alone with Minho.
“I really am sorry, ___,” he wraps his arms around you from behind, “I hope you know I’d never harm or hurt you unless I had to.”
You could pick apart that sentence for a year and still not unpack all the things wrong with what he just said. You want to snap at him, push him off you, but now you know what devil lies under that surface of sticky sweetness.
“Stop apologizing,” you force a smile, “You’ve been under a lot of stress these last few days, and I shouldn’t have even said the things I said. You’ve been good to me Minho, let’s just put it behind us,” you lie to the best of your ability.
“I don't deserve you,” he brushes some hair out of your face and kisses you softly. You try not to think about Hyunjins lips on you just moments ago. “Christopher will be here around one or two in the afternoon tomorrow with your dresses, wear something pretty for me, yeah?”
You nod and smile as Hyunjin walks back into the room, a bag of his personal effects over his shoulder.
“Thank you for everything ___, I owe you,” he smiles and pats your shoulder as he and Minho make their way out the door. You lock it behind them then turn to face the house you’ve been living in for the last few months. You’re alone again.
You couldn’t sleep if you wanted to, so you decide to go strip Hyunjins bed and toss the sheets in the wash. When you pick up the pillow to remove the case you see a folded piece of paper underneath. You recognize the sheet from his sketchbook and frantically unfold it.
It’s a sketch of you, with a note.
This one is my favorite so far. You’re the good in this shit show we’re stuck in, don’t ever forget that beautiful. Love, Hyunjin.
Endnotes:
1. Taglist: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict @simpforleeknaur @the-sweetest-rosie @hyunjinhoexxx @aeri-skzver @mbioooo0000 @seungminindabuilding @moni-logues @shioriyametho - if your @ is in bold then I couldn’t tag you for whatever reason - if you need to adjust settings go do the thang or if I need to do something let me know (I am not technologically competent).
2. Eeek! Part two. I am always so nervous to do multi-chap fics bc I worry people won’t like the direction I’m going and that it will effect my decisions lol also I just typically like working with smaller worlds BUT this fic has thus far been a fun little ride, so I hope you all like it. More to come soon, and as always here’s your virtual smooch😘