#Cartier Nail Bracelet
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goodreplicawatchsitesr688r · 2 months ago
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How to Tell a Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet: A Comprehensive Guide
The Cartier Nail Bracelet is a stunning piece of jewelry that has captured the hearts of fashion enthusiasts and collectors alike. However, with its popularity comes the unfortunate rise of counterfeits. Knowing how to differentiate between a genuine Cartier Nail Bracelet and a fake is crucial for any potential buyer. In this article, we will provide you with essential tips on how to spot a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet, ensuring your purchase is authentic.
1. Examine the Craftsmanship
One of the first indicators of a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet is the quality of craftsmanship. Cartier is renowned for its meticulous attention to detail and high-quality materials. When examining the bracelet, look for:
Smooth Edges: Genuine Cartier pieces have perfectly smooth edges. If you notice any rough or uneven edges, it's likely a counterfeit.
Weight: Authentic jewelry has a certain weight to it due to the materials used in production. If the bracelet feels overly light, it may be a fake.
2. Check the Hallmarks
Cartier provides specific hallmarks on their jewelry, which can help you verify authenticity. Look for:
Cartier Logo: The name 'Cartier' should be engraved clearly on the inside of the bracelet. The font should be elegant and not overly bold.
Serial Numbers: Genuine pieces will have a unique serial number. This number is often found near the hallmark. You can contact Cartier for verification if you have doubts.
3. Inspect the Material
Cartier uses high-quality materials like 18k gold, rose gold, or platinum for their bracelets. Here’s how to check the material:
Color Consistency: Authentic gold will have a consistent color. If you see any discoloration or variations, it’s a sign of a fake.
Magnet Test: Gold is not magnetic. If a magnet sticks to your bracelet, it’s likely not real gold.
4. Assess the Design
The design of the Cartier Nail Bracelet is iconic, and fakes often have subtle differences. Pay attention to:
Shape and Size: The bracelet should have a perfect nail shape. If the proportions seem off or the design lacks finesse, it could be counterfeit.
Finish: Authentic bracelets have a high-quality finish that reflects light beautifully. If the surface appears dull or has visible flaws, it might be fake.
5. Compare Prices
Another red flag when purchasing a Cartier Nail Bracelet is the price. If you come across a deal that seems too good to be true, it probably is. Authentic pieces typically retain their value and are priced accordingly. Be wary of:
Significantly Low Prices: If the bracelet is being sold at a fraction of its retail value, it’s likely a counterfeit.
Unverified Sellers: Always purchase from reputable sellers or authorized dealers.
6. Purchase from Reputable Sources
To ensure you are buying an authentic Cartier Nail Bracelet, it’s best to purchase from reputable sources. Consider:
Authorized Dealers: Always opt for authorized Cartier retailers or boutiques.
Online Platforms: If buying online, ensure the website is reputable. For instance, Luxe Replica Watche (https://luxereplicawatche.io/) offers a range of high-quality replica watches and jewelry. While we focus on replicas, we emphasize the importance of awareness in authentic pieces.
Conclusion
Buying jewelry, especially luxury pieces like the Cartier Nail Bracelet, requires careful consideration and knowledge. By following these tips, you can avoid falling victim to counterfeit products and ensure that your purchase is authentic. Remember, if you ever have doubts, consult with a professional jeweler or reach out to Cartier directly. Stay smart, and happy shopping!
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trexalicious · 5 months ago
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Why is Rachel wearing her Cartier Just Un Clou necklace on repeat this year? We know she uses jewelry to send messages and I think the message she's trying to convey to set up her 2025 divorce narrative is: she's a martyr...poor thing! It's also from the same designer as the Cartier Love Bracelet Trevor gave her (that she's never taken off)...
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pleasures · 1 year ago
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victoria-blanc · 2 months ago
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mensapwatchreplicat780k · 2 months ago
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How to Spot a Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet: A Complete Guide
The Cartier Nail Bracelet is an iconic piece of jewelry that combines elegance and edgy design. However, with its popularity comes a surge of counterfeit versions that can be difficult to distinguish from the real thing. In this article, we will explore the key features to look for when identifying a genuine Cartier Nail Bracelet, helping you make informed purchasing decisions. Whether you’re buying from a retailer or looking to score a deal online, knowing how to spot a fake can save you time and money. For quality replicas, check out Luxe Replica Watche.
1. Examine the Materials
The first step in identifying a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet is to examine the materials used. Genuine Cartier jewelry is crafted from high-quality metals such as 18k gold or platinum. A fake bracelet may be made from inferior materials like base metal or gold-plated alternatives. To check this, look for:
Weight: Authentic pieces feel substantial in your hand, while fakes often feel light and flimsy.
Color: Real gold has a rich hue, while fake versions may appear overly shiny or dull.
2. Look for Hallmarks and Stamps
Every genuine Cartier piece is stamped with specific hallmarks that indicate its authenticity. Look for:
Cartier Logo: The logo should be crisp and clear, not smudged or poorly executed.
Metal Mark: Authentic pieces will have a stamp indicating the metal content, such as \"750\" for 18k gold.
Counterfeit items often lack these stamps or have poorly executed imitations.
3. Assess the Craftsmanship
Cartier is known for its impeccable craftsmanship. When inspecting a Cartier Nail Bracelet, check for:
Smooth Edges: Genuine bracelets have smooth, rounded edges without any sharp or rough spots.
Consistent Finish: Look for a uniform finish throughout the bracelet. Fake jewelry may show inconsistencies in polish or texture.
4. Check the Clasp Mechanism
The clasp on a Cartier Nail Bracelet is designed to be secure and easy to operate. When examining the clasp, consider:
Functionality: A genuine bracelet will have a smooth functioning clasp. If the clasp feels stiff or difficult to operate, it may be a fake.
Design: The clasp design should match the official Cartier specifications, which can be verified on the Cartier website.
5. Analyze the Price
While everyone loves a good deal, if the price of a Cartier Nail Bracelet seems too good to be true, it probably is. Authentic Cartier bracelets are luxury items that come with a price tag to match. Be cautious of significantly discounted items, especially from unverified sellers.
6. Purchase from Reputable Sources
One of the best ways to ensure that you are buying an authentic Cartier Nail Bracelet is to purchase from reputable sources. Always opt for authorized retailers or trusted online platforms. For those interested in high-quality replicas, visit Luxe Replica Watche, where you can find exquisite replica pieces that emulate the luxury of genuine Cartier without the hefty price tag.
Conclusion
Spotting a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet can be challenging, but by examining the materials, hallmarks, craftsmanship, clasp, and pricing, you can make informed decisions. Remember that purchasing from reputable sources is crucial. Whether you’re looking for the real deal or a high-quality replica, Luxe Replica Watche offers a range of options that ensure elegance and sophistication.
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replicasportwatchesr940z · 2 months ago
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How to Spot a Fake Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet: A Comprehensive Guide
The Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet is a stunning piece of jewelry that adds a touch of luxury to any outfit. However, with its popularity comes the unfortunate rise of counterfeit versions. If you're considering purchasing this iconic bracelet, it's essential to know how to differentiate between a genuine piece and a fake. In this article, we will guide you through the key indicators to spot a fake Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet, ensuring that you invest in a piece that reflects true craftsmanship and luxury.
1. Examine the Quality of the Metal
One of the first things to check when assessing the authenticity of a Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet is the quality of the metal. Authentic Cartier jewelry is made from high-quality materials, typically 18k gold or platinum. A fake bracelet may look shiny but will likely be made from inferior metals. To test the quality, look for:
Weight: Genuine Cartier pieces have a substantial weight due to the quality of the materials used.
Color: The gold should have a rich, warm hue, while silver should exhibit a bright, polished finish.
2. Look for the Hallmark
Cartier jewelry is stamped with a distinctive hallmark that indicates authenticity. This stamp typically includes:
The Cartier logo
The metal type (e.g., 750 for 18k gold)
A serial number for identification
Inspect the inner part of the bracelet closely. A fake might have a poorly executed or missing hallmark. If you have doubts, consult with a professional jeweler to verify the markings.
3. Check the Craftsmanship
Cartier is renowned for its exceptional craftsmanship. A real Twisted Nail Bracelet will exhibit precise detailing and a flawless finish. Here’s what to look for:
Seamless Design: The connections where the bracelet twists should be smooth and seamless.
Polished Edges: Authentic bracelets have carefully polished edges without any rough spots.
Symmetry: The nail design should be perfectly symmetrical; any irregularities can be a sign of a counterfeit.
4. Analyze the Price
If a deal seems too good to be true, it probably is. The retail price for a genuine Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet typically ranges from $1,000 to several thousand dollars, depending on the model and materials. If you find a similar bracelet priced significantly lower, it’s likely a fake. Always research the current market price before making a purchase.
5. Purchase from Reputable Sources
To minimize the risk of buying a fake, always purchase from reputable sources. Luxury jewelry should be bought from authorized Cartier retailers, established second-hand stores, or trusted online platforms. One such reputable online store is Luxe Replica Watche, which specializes in high-quality replica watches and jewelry. They provide detailed descriptions and authenticity guarantees, allowing you to shop with confidence.
6. Seek Documentation
When buying a Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet, ask for original purchase documentation, including a receipt and any certificates of authenticity. This paperwork can help verify that the bracelet is genuine and provide peace of mind in your investment.
7. Consult an Expert
If you’re still uncertain about the authenticity of a Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet, consider consulting an expert. Professional appraisers or jewelers can provide insights and evaluations based on their experience. This step can be particularly useful if you’re considering a high-value purchase.
Conclusion
Investing in a Cartier Twisted Nail Bracelet is a decision that should be made with careful consideration. By following the tips outlined in this guide, you can effectively spot a fake and ensure that you’re purchasing an authentic piece of luxury jewelry. For those looking to explore high-quality replicas or authentic pieces, check out Luxe Replica Watche, where you can find a curated selection of luxury items.
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Cartier
Twisted Nail Bracelet
Jewelry Authentication
Luxury Jewelry
Fake vs Real
Luxe Replica Watche
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How to Spot a Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet: A Comprehensive Guide
The Cartier nail bracelet, formally known as the Cartier Juste un Clou, is a stunning piece of jewelry that has captivated fashion enthusiasts around the globe. However, with its increasing popularity, the market has seen a rise in counterfeit versions. Knowing how to spot a fake Cartier nail bracelet is essential for any buyer looking to make a wise investment. In this article, we'll guide you through the key indicators to identify genuine Cartier jewelry and help you avoid costly mistakes.
1. Check the Quality of Materials
One of the first things to assess when verifying the authenticity of a Cartier nail bracelet is the quality of the materials. Authentic Cartier pieces are crafted from high-quality metals such as 18k gold or platinum. If the bracelet feels lightweight or has a cheap finish, it’s likely a counterfeit.
2. Inspect the Finish and Craftsmanship
Cartier is known for its meticulous craftsmanship. Inspect the bracelet for any uneven surfaces or poorly executed details. A genuine Cartier nail bracelet should have a smooth finish, with no visible seams or rough edges. Pay special attention to the nail head; it should be perfectly shaped and polished.
3. Look for Hallmarks and Engravings
All authentic Cartier jewelry pieces are engraved with specific hallmarks. Look for the following:
Cartier Logo: The logo should be clear and well-defined.
Metal Mark: Authentic pieces will have a stamp indicating the metal content, such as '750' for 18k gold.
Serial Number: Each genuine piece has a unique serial number. You can check this number with Cartier for verification.
4. Examine the Packaging
Cartier takes pride in its packaging. A genuine bracelet will come with a high-quality box, often accompanied by a certificate of authenticity and care instructions. If the packaging seems flimsy or unbranded, it’s a red flag.
5. Purchase from Reputable Sources
When looking to buy a Cartier nail bracelet, always opt for reputable jewelers or authorized retailers. Websites like Luxe Replica Watche offer a range of luxury replicas that can provide a stylish alternative without the hefty price tag. If you decide to purchase second-hand, verify the seller's credibility and ask for proof of authenticity.
6. Compare Prices
If the price seems too good to be true, it probably is. Authentic Cartier nail bracelets can be quite expensive due to their craftsmanship and brand value. If you find a deal that’s significantly lower than the retail price, exercise caution.
7. Trust Your Instincts
Finally, trust your instincts. If something feels off during your purchasing process—whether it’s the seller’s attitude, the product’s appearance, or the price—don’t hesitate to walk away. It’s better to be patient and find a reputable source than to rush into a purchase that you might regret later.
Conclusion
Spotting a fake Cartier nail bracelet requires careful observation and an understanding of what to look for. By following the tips outlined in this guide, you can ensure that your purchase is genuine and worth every penny. For those interested in high-quality replica watches and jewelry, consider browsing Luxe Replica Watche for exquisite pieces that mimic the luxury you desire without the extravagant cost.
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Cartier
Nail Bracelet
Jewelry Authentication
Luxury Replicas
Luxe Replica Watche
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How to Open a Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet: A Comprehensive Guide
Cartier is synonymous with luxury, and their nail bracelet is a timeless piece that adds sophistication to any outfit. However, not everyone can afford the genuine article. If you're considering a replica, such as those available at Luxe Replica Watche, it’s essential to know how to properly open and handle it. This guide will walk you through the process of opening a fake Cartier nail bracelet, ensuring that you do so with care and style.
Understanding the Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet
Before we dive into the opening process, it’s crucial to understand what you’re dealing with. A fake Cartier nail bracelet may not have the same quality materials as the original, but it can still be a fantastic accessory that adds flair to your wardrobe. Many replicas are designed to mimic the look and feel of the real thing, making them an attractive and budget-friendly option.
Gather Your Tools
To open your fake Cartier nail bracelet, you might need a few tools for a smooth and effortless experience:
Soft Cloth: To prevent scratches.
Jewelry Pliers: For more stubborn clasps.
Gentle Hands: Sometimes, all you need is a little finesse.
Step-by-Step Process to Open Your Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet
Now that you have your tools ready, let’s go through the steps to open your bracelet:
1. Inspect the Clasp
Before attempting to open the bracelet, take a moment to inspect the clasp. Most fake Cartier nail bracelets feature a simple hinge mechanism or a screw-style closure. Familiarizing yourself with the clasp type will make the opening process easier.
2. Use a Soft Cloth
Lay the bracelet on a soft cloth to prevent any scratches on the surface. This is especially important if your bracelet has a shiny finish, as you want to maintain its appearance.
3. Identify the Opening Mechanism
If your bracelet has a hinge style, look for the small button or lever that releases the clasp. If it’s a screw-style, locate the small screw that needs to be turned. Most fake Cartier nail bracelets are designed to mimic the original, so the mechanism should be similar.
4. Gently Open the Clasp
For hinge-style bracelets, gently press the button or lever to release the clasp. If you have a screw-style, use your jewelry pliers to carefully turn the screw counterclockwise. Be cautious not to apply too much force, as this can damage the bracelet.
5. Remove the Bracelet
Once the clasp is open, carefully slide the bracelet off your wrist. Always handle it gently to avoid bending or cracking the material.
Maintaining Your Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet
Now that you know how to open your bracelet, it’s essential to maintain it to keep it looking great:
Store Properly: When not wearing your bracelet, store it in a soft pouch or the original packaging to prevent scratches.
Clean Regularly: Use a soft, lint-free cloth to wipe down your bracelet after each wear.
Avoid Moisture: Keep your bracelet dry and avoid exposure to water or perfumes to maintain its finish.
Why Choose Luxe Replica Watche?
If you’re looking for a high-quality fake Cartier nail bracelet, look no further than Luxe Replica Watche. Our e-commerce site specializes in offering top-notch replicas that not only look great but also feel durable. With a wide selection of luxury replica accessories, you can find the perfect piece to complete your look without breaking the bank.
Conclusion
Opening a fake Cartier nail bracelet doesn’t have to be a daunting task. With the right tools and a little patience, you can enjoy this stunning accessory while maintaining its quality. Remember to shop smart and choose reputable sources like Luxe Replica Watche for your luxury replica needs. Happy accessorizing!
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perfectwatchesreplicaso524d · 2 months ago
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How to Tell a Fake Cartier Nail Bracelet: A Comprehensive Guide
When it comes to luxury jewelry, few pieces are as iconic as the Cartier Nail Bracelet. This stunning piece symbolizes elegance and sophistication, making it a coveted item among fashion enthusiasts. However, with its popularity comes the risk of counterfeits. In this article, we’ll explore how you can tell a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet from the real deal. Plus, we will introduce you to Luxe Replica Watche, an online store specializing in high-quality replicas.
Understanding the Cartier Nail Bracelet
The Cartier Nail Bracelet, also known as the Juste un Clou, is a part of Cartier's renowned love collection. Crafted in the shape of a nail, it is available in different metals, including yellow gold, white gold, and rose gold. The authenticity of this bracelet is crucial not only for its aesthetic appeal but also for its value. Here are some key indicators to help you determine if your bracelet is authentic or a counterfeit.
1. Check the Hallmarks
One of the most reliable ways to verify the authenticity of a Cartier Nail Bracelet is by checking for hallmarks. Authentic Cartier pieces will have the Cartier signature, along with a stamp indicating the metal type (e.g., 750 for 18k gold). These marks should be clear and precise, not blurry or poorly stamped. If the hallmark is missing or looks suspicious, it is likely a fake.
2. Evaluate the Craftsmanship
Cartier is known for its impeccable craftsmanship. Take a close look at the bracelet's finish. Authentic pieces will have a smooth, polished surface without any visible flaws or rough edges. The nail head should be well-defined, and the overall construction should feel sturdy yet comfortable to wear. If the bracelet feels flimsy or has rough spots, it’s probably a counterfeit.
3. Inspect the Weight
Genuine Cartier jewelry is made from high-quality materials, which means they tend to be heavier than their fake counterparts. If you have access to an authentic Cartier Nail Bracelet, compare the weight. If the bracelet you are examining feels significantly lighter, it’s a red flag.
4. Look at the Packaging
Authentic Cartier bracelets come with high-quality packaging. Ensure that the box is sturdy and features Cartier's signature logo. Inside, you should find a pouch and a certificate of authenticity. If the packaging looks cheap or lacks the necessary components, it may indicate that the bracelet is a fake.
5. Examine the Pricing
While it’s tempting to snag a deal, be cautious of prices that seem too good to be true. Authentic Cartier Nail Bracelets typically retail at a premium price. If you find a bracelet being sold for a fraction of its market value, it’s likely a counterfeit. Always do your research and compare prices from reputable retailers.
6. Purchase from Reputable Sources
To avoid the risk of buying a fake Cartier Nail Bracelet, it’s crucial to purchase from reputable sources. If you’re considering a replica for style reasons, visit Luxe Replica Watche. They offer high-quality replicas that look stunning and are affordably priced, allowing you to enjoy the luxury look without breaking the bank.
Final Thoughts
Owning a Cartier Nail Bracelet is a dream for many jewelry lovers. However, it’s essential to ensure you’re purchasing an authentic piece to enjoy its beauty and value fully. By following the tips outlined in this guide, you can confidently distinguish between a real and a fake bracelet. If you’re looking for a fashionable alternative, check out Luxe Replica Watche for exquisite replicas that won’t disappoint.
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Tags: Cartier, Nail Bracelet, Juste un Clou, Luxury Jewelry, Fake Cartier, Authenticity, Luxe Replica Watche, Fashion Accessories
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poguehearted77 · 2 months ago
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Pink Silk
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Summary: Where Rafe is a prisoner in his own mind and can't stop the filthy flashbacks he gets of the time you shared together.
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Rafe's body aches before his eyes even have the chance to open. The expensive sheets are strewn across the bed and covering his bare lower body. Eyes still close, as if second nature his brawny arm reaches over to the other side of the bed where you once were.
Feeling the cold, vacant mattress under the palm of his hands was enough to haul him out of his partial state of slumber. His eyes fluttered open, squinting under the bright rays of light that peaked through the gaps of the flowing drapes that danced with the warm summer breeze.
You were gone, already left for work, he presumes. He supposes he may as well follow in your footsteps. He prepares for the day, looking over his shoulder to take one last glance at the ruined bed. Getting a vivid memory of the way he had your face buried in the sheets, blabbering incoherently as he pounded you from behind.
A sinister grin stretches across his lips as he steps into the shower. Hissing at the hot water rolls down his back grazing over the little cuts that trailed all along it thanks to you. With a hand against the wall, he's reminded of how sinful you sounded in his ear when he had your legs wrapped around his waist, hips snapping against yours mercilessly while your nails dug into the flesh on his back.
Against his own volition, he feels his dick slowly stiffening up with every recount. He takes care of it before he finishes his shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and you still plaguing his mind he texts you. He spontaneously decided he'd take you out for lunch, to which you eventually replied with a pink heart and a thumbs up.
You'd never been a great texter, but in all fairness, neither was he. You both didn't have time to overthink little texts, you felt emojis said everything you needed to say while Rafe hardly used them and opted for unintentionally sassy abbreviations instead.
You still remember his response to your invite to your aunt's wedding. "k."
-
Rafe walked into the Hamilton Hotel, just one of the hundreds of hotel chains that your family owns. The elegantly patterned marble floors shine bright off the reflections from the chandeliers that hang down from above.
"Cameron!" Rafe's head snaps up to the source of the deep voice calling him. He pockets the small gift he'd brought for you and approaches your father who had just finished talking lecturing the receptionist.
"How are you, Mr. Hamilton?" Rafe is polite, accepting the shake of hands your father offered. "Better now that there's some competence around. I couldn't be happier that my daughter found a man like you, raised right like a true gentleman." Rafe's cheeks heat up at the praise but his body burns from the thoughts they trigger.
"I know my Y/n is in good hands with a respectful young man like yourself." Rafe gulps, mind replaying the way he did in fact have you in his hands last night and bent over his lap. Oh, and he was the farthest thing from respectful. The bruises on the inside of your thighs were a testament to it, and perhaps the slight limp you had as you were making your way over to them right now.
"Daddy," You smile, referring to your father but both heads turn to you. The blood drains from your face as you realize Rafe had just publicly reacted to that title in front of your father. Thankfully, he didn't notice and Rafe looks away.
Your dad hugs you before bidding his farewells and walking off. You look to Rafe with a look of disbelief and the two of you snicker like little kids. "I brought you somethin'" Rafe pulls out a small box from his back pocket.
A small grin stretches over your lips, "What calls for the occasion." Your boyfriend shrugs, "Jus' felt like it." Your surprise is genuine as the box slides open to reveal a Cartier bracelet. "Rafee," You pout, letting him put it on you, adding to the small stack of high-end jewellery that adorned your wrists.
"You're so cute," You smile, gently stroking his cheek with your right hand. Rafe leans into it, one of his arms slinking around your waist. His hand resting on the small of your back, subtly adorning the material of your baby pink dress. "Is this new?" He asks and you shake your head.
The other guests around were regulars and far too familiar with the high-profile couple who looked like they always needed to get a room (and you did). However, the older clients always thought you two were the cutest, reminding them of their younger selves.
"So you won't mind if I tear this off you later?" A laugh bubbles out of you and you push him away, "I'll think about it. If you buy me another one, you might have yourself a deal." You'd already begun to walk out the door, your walk enchanting and Rafe couldn't peel his eyes off you.
"I'll buy you the whole store." He promises from where he stands, legs frozen as he admires you from behind. "You coming or what? We've only got an hour." You beckon and that's all it takes to have him springing after you.
Unsurprisingly, the majority of the hour was put to good use in the back of Rafe's truck, and he kept true to his word and got you both something quick to eat afterward.
Promising a shopping spree for you after work as he couldn't help himself and accidentally tore the strap of your dress.
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fear-is-truth · 2 months ago
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patrick bateman x fiancée!reader | nsfw. mdni
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you’re kneeling on the polished oak floor, jerking off your fiancé as he studies your hand, captivated by the engagement ring he’d bought for you. his thumb slides over the warm, polished 18k rose gold of the cartier panthère ring, and you can see patrick’s face contort slightly when you swiped your thumb over the bulbous tip, admiring the rosy shade of pink. you make a mental note of the colour, perhaps you can buy some nail polish of the exact shade.
“this isn’t just any ring,” patrick mumbles suddenly, as if justifying his choice to himself. “it’s designed by aldo cipullo—the same guy who created the love bracelet. only the best, obviously.” his voice trails off, noting the way the delicate pavé diamonds sparkle against your skin, then looks back up at you, cheeks flushed.
“two carats of vvs clarity diamonds, high colour… princess cut. they don’t make them like this anymore,” he rambles on, tongue poking out between parted lips. “each one’s hand-finished in their paris atelier. it cost… twenty-five grand. minimum,”
“thank you, patrick. they’re beautiful, i love them,” you say as you gently squeezed the head, a droplet of clear liquid oozed from the slit — glistening like the diamonds you’re wearing. his cock twitches in your hand and patrick frowns. “these trousers are ermenegildo zegna and they cost nine hundred and fifty dollars. don’t get them dirty.”
“… of course, patrick.”
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rafesgoldrings · 2 years ago
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One Hell of a Night
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Warnings: smut, oral (m + f receiving), Topper and Kelce jerk each other off, drug usage, two in one hole, language, brief mention of choking and face slapping, teensy bit of degradation, foursome, slight groping from the boys, Rafe does a line off the readers tits because it’s me, this is literally just pure filth
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem Kook!Reader, Topper Thornton x Fem Kook!Reader, Kelce x Fem Kook!Reader, slight Kelce x Topper
Summary: It’s strictly platonic between you and the three kook boys to anyone else, but when you’re alone it’s a totally different answer. A daunting game of cat and mouse lands you in an interesting position one Friday night.
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If anyone asked you, the friendship between you and the three kook boys that dominated the island was strictly platonic. There was absolutely nothing else there, not when you took turns sucking their cock. Not when they were knuckle deep in your cunt. Not when their cum was coating every inch of you. Just a couple of friends helping friends to relax. But to you four? There was something there, pure animalistic desire to tear each other apart. Each one of you playing a daunting game of cat and mouse.
You’d wear the shortest golf skirt you owned when you went to play with them. They would wear the tightest shirts they owned, flexing their well defined muscles every chance they got. Your freshly painted nails would slowly trail up one of the boy's thighs, dangerously close to his cock, another boy's hand would disappear into your skirt, and the final boy would have his hand ‘innocently’ around your shoulder groping your tits. Each one of you eager to see who broke first, to see who gave into their desire.
It was usually always you. One look at their cocky smirks as their fingers danced a well choreographed dance inside your cunt and you were done for. You’d always ended up pleading for them to just stop the teasing and have their way with you. That exact same scenario is how you ended up in your current situation.
Rafe invited the three of you to his place to hang Friday night. Wheezie was at her friends house for the weekend, Sarah was out with those grimy pogues, Ward and Rose away for some business thing, which left the house all to himself. He’d told you he managed to secure a gram of coke from Barry and some alcohol, all you needed to do was bring your pretty ass over there with Topper and Kelce. Knowing it would just be the four of you, you put on a tiny skirt and crop top that was perfectly cut to show off your tits. The Cartier bracelet Rafe bought you, Chanel necklace Topper bought you, and Hermès ring Kelce bought you proudly on display. You’d put on the perfume you knew drove them crazy, sliding on your sandals and getting in your Jeep to head over to them.
You should have known it was a Trap, as soon as you walked in you should have known. None of the boys had their shirts on, passing around a half smoked joint and legs spread. Their hungry eyes staring you down the second you walked in the door like they were predators and you were the helpless prey. They paid extra close attention to your tits that were practically uncovered by the small piece of fabric you called a shirt, their adam’s apple bobbing as they swallowed harshly.
“Why don’t you come sit princess” it wasn’t a question, Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap, discarding the joint and smirking at the squeal you let out from the sudden collision.
He already had lines laid out on the table and passed you a rolled up hundred dollar bill insisting you go first. The small skirt (and no panties) left little to the imagination as you bent down to the table, Rafe jerking his thigh up and hitting your cunt in the perfect way. You swallowed the whimper that threatened to escape your lips, covering one nostril before placing the bill inside the other and snorting a single white line off the table relatively quickly.
“Woah pretty girl, you’re so desperate tonight” Topper cooed, his eyes full of lust and mischief as the other two let out a small laugh.
“Awe come on guys, sweet girl just wants to make sure we don’t take it all before she gets her high. Isn’t that right baby?” Kelces hand rubbing your knee and the small amount of coke in your system made it hard to get out a complete sentence.
“Y-yeah, you guys always take it” you pouted, bending back down and doing two more lines before Rafe plucked the bill from your hands.
“That’s enough now.” he never let you overindulge like they did. He knew exactly what it did to you and while letting you snort any of the blow was bad, he’d rather you do smaller amounts with them.
A small hmph escaped your lips, arms crossed as you leaned back against Rafe’s chest. They could do all the coke in the world but you do three lines and it was the crime of the fucking century. You felt large fingertips grip your jaw firmly and turn your head towards them, Rafe’s blue eyes darkened as he spoke to you.
“Lose the fucking attitude and be grateful I allow you any princess. Don’t make me bend you over the table and slap your ass until it’s black and blue to teach you manners.” you knew he meant it. He’d done it once before when you wouldn’t stop bitching about everything one night, your widened eyes never left his as you nodded.
He whispered ‘good girl’ and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he smirked, glancing at the table and your tits.
“Take your top off” the others quickly joined in agreement.
So, slowly, you began peeling it off. It’s not like they hadn’t seen your tits before, half the time you didn’t bother wearing a bra and changed in front of them because they’d touched and marked them plenty of times in the past. Topper passed the bag to Rafe who then instructed Kelce to push your tits together. You felt him press against your back, arms wrapping around your front and pushing your tits together with his hands, before Rafe poured some of the white powder between them. He covered one nostril and snorted it all away, lightly licking them to ‘get the rest’ off.
By this time, the drugs had kicked in. Your eyes holding a glazed over look, pupils dilated, cunt throbbing as you watched them. You began grinding into the couch, desperate for something, whining loudly and attracting all three boys' attention to you. Each one stared at the wet spot you’d made, eyes matching yours but with a bit more lust swimming around. Giving each other a knowing look, they listened as you begged for them to touch you. To use you as they pleased and make you cum
“Fuck princess, okay”
“That’s our good girl”
“So fucking pretty when you beg baby, we’ll take such good care of you”
Rafe had your legs spread apart, hands grabbing your tits and pulling at your nipples while Topper fucked your face. Kelce had his cock buried inside you, fucking you so hard that you swear your cervix was actually bruised. You couldn’t think clearly, eyes rolling back from the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were currently experiencing from both your high and being used this way, a harsh slap to your inner thigh bringing you back to reality. Your eyes were full of tears from the combination of your favorite boys using you like their personal toy, Topper was all the way in the back of your throat using it like it was nothing but a hole made to take his cock.
You knew they were both close, they went harder, each thrust more sloppy than the previous. Their moans getting louder and more broken until they couldn’t form words, only cries of your name. Their thick seed filled both of your holes at the same time and you swore you died right then and there. You could feel your cunt get stuffed full and loved it more than anything, especially knowing it was from one of your favorite boys. Rafe’s cock was pressed against your back, rock hard, leaking precum, and desperate for the same attention the others just got.
The two of them would pull out, each one with a proud look on their face when you whimpered at the sudden empty feeling and swallowed Topper's load, giving Rafe the opportunity to move in front of you. Groaning at the sight of your hole leaking out the mixture of yours and Kelce’s cum, he slowly bent down till he was eye level with your cunt. His lips quickly attached to your clit and then your tight hole. Moaning against you at the taste of his best friend's release with yours mixing together on his tongue. Your hands flew to his hair and held it with a tight grip, legs trembling from the previous orgasm you just had.
“D-don’t stop. P-lease” it came out broken, sounding pathetic enough for the two boys to laugh and mockingly frown at you.
You snapped your head in their direction and rolled your head back, eyes screwed shut and toes curling when you saw them stroking the other's cock. It was all too much for you, Rafe’s tongue working its magic on your abused cunt, the other two pleasuring each other while they watched you fall apart yet again. You swear to god Rafe was tracing his name against your cunt when you finally came. That rubber band in your belly finally snapping as you grinded into Rafe’s face, riding out your orgasm to the best of your ability in your drug altered state.
“Such a goood fucking girl baby. Oh my god” Rafe moaned out when he finally detached his mouth from your cunt, licking his lips clean and groaning at your taste.
“Taste so fucking good baby” he pulled you into a rough kiss, hand wrapped around your throat, allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue.
Your head moved up when he went to pull away from the kiss, lips still attached to his until he pushed you back against the bed. Topper and Kelce had managed to get each other off at some point during your orgasm and the thick white ropes covered their abs. They’d both walked to join Rafe in front of you before speaking up.
“Since Kelce got to fuck that pretty cunt of yours baby, Rafe and I want to try something while Kelce fucks your mouth”
“Do you trust us baby?” Even while high, they each made sure you were okay with whatever they were doing.
“Of course” your voice came out small, too fucked out, high, and tired to speak much louder.
“Okay baby. You’re going to take Rafe and I inside that tight cunt of yours…at the same time. You think you can handle us both baby?” that certainly woke you up, eyes shooting open as wide as they could go and sitting up on your elbows.
You looked between each boy, trying to see if they were serious. When there was no indication that they weren’t, pure desperation on Rafe and Toppers faces, you nodded your head.
“Fucking hell princess, you’re so perfect.”
“If it’s too much, you tell us okay?” they both spoke at the same time, you again nodded at them.
They flipped you to your stomach before pulling you up, wanting you on all fours. Once you were in position, Kelce walked over and slid his cock in your mouth. Rafe slid his cock inside you, groaning at how tight you were and the way your cunt clenched around him reactively. He thrusted into you a few more times before making sure you were okay with this. Once you gave him a thumbs up, mouth too full of cock to answer verbally, Topper joined him. He slid his cock in, letting out a loud groan at the feeling of your tight hole and his cock rubbing against Rafe’s inside you, slowly until it was all the way in. You were so lost in pleasure, moaning non stop around Kelce's cock, that you forgot to suck him off. He slapped your cheek to bring your attention to him “Just because you’re taking two cocks inside your cunt at once like a little whore doesn’t mean you stop paying attention to me. Now fucking suck princess, make me proud”
You bobbed your head up and down, trying your best to keep your attention on him while Rafe and Topper fucked into you at the same time. The room full of pornographic sounds, just moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls.
“I hope you know baby, we aren’t done with you. We’re going to ruin you to the point you’re just a drooling, babbling, trembling cock hungry whore. This is just the beginning” Rafe moaned into your ear, gripping your hair and pulling you up to his lips.
This was going to be one hell of a night.
Tag List: @sweetestdesire @cherryniceties @dreamingwithrafe @congratsloserr @fulla02reads @madelynie @xyzstar (I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be tagged since this includes Kelce so just let me know!) @outerbankspov
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mrs-trophy-wife · 2 years ago
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rottingcorps3s · 11 months ago
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"Daddy Issues" - J.P.
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John Price x f!reader
Rating: 16+ (no smut, just cute) Word Count: Like 800?? Notice: Hey Alexa, please play “Daddy Issues” by The Neighborhood. I feel as if the title is self explanatory. A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve posted! Had a few ideas I wanted to get out so I decided to write this while I waited for Skyrim to download lol This was written on mobile and not proofread. Might make multiple parts of this, might not. But hope you enjoy!
His grip was tight on your hand. His fingers having completely engulfed your own as he pulled you through the crowd of people. His other hand holding onto the few shopping bags you had accumulated throughout the day.
John was an older man, not much older, but still older. You didn’t mind, obviously, but other people seemed to. It was evident in the stares from strangers that would linger just a second too long.
Is that your dad? You’d heard a hundred times over.
Is she your daughter? They’d ask John, a defeated look crossing his eyes.
When people realized that the two of you were in fact a couple, it tended to sour their mood. Seeing a younger woman with an older man their mind immediately went to Sugar Daddy. Which was far from the truth…kinda.
Did John spoil you? Definitely. Who wouldn’t want to? The multiple Cartier bracelets you owned, the 24k gold necklace that sat delicately against your sternum and the fact that your nails were always done every 4 weeks were proof of his generosity to you.
But your relationship was so much more than that. To him, you had done more for him than he’d ever be able to pay you back for. Your warm touch and inviting smile was all he needed to be satisfied, but you had gone further beyond that.
Since you had entered his life, not a day went by where he wasn’t thankful. Making sure he always had a hot meal waiting when he returned from deployment no matter the time of night. A hot bath already prepared by the time he was done eating. Your warm embrace waiting for him in bed as he washed away the horrors of war.
God forbid he spoils his woman a little.
You felt it happen a few blocks back, your shoe having slowly dragged your sock down the back of your heel and under your foot. It was driving you crazy, but the car was only a few blocks away. John could tell something was wrong as you seemed to lag behind him and stumbled every couple steps.
You had been looking into the window of one of the shops you passed by, seeing if anything interesting caught your eye before you were met with the solid chest of your boyfriend. You looked up at him and met his gaze, his eyebrows raised and a questioning look in his eyes.
“Are your shoes hurtin’ you?” he asked, pulling you off to the side to avoid being trampled by people.
You looked down at the shoes you were wearing, they were a simple pair of white sneakers. A pair John had bought you.
“No,” you said simply, a small smile forming on your lips as you admired him for a moment.
“You keep tripping over yourself?” he said as more of a question.
“My sock rolled under my foot, but I was just gonna fix it in the car.” You said simply.
His eyebrows furrowed as he listened to you, his eyes scanning your form and ultimately landing on your shoes. He paused for a moment, your gaze having wandered back to the window of the shop, waiting for him to start leading the way once more.
He let out a small sign before moving the bags he was holding further up his arm and got down onto one knee in front of you. His knees popping as he did.
You looked down at him with a questioning gaze before he gripped the back of your calf and set your shoe on his knee. You quickly gripped onto his shoulder as you used it to balance yourself. He made quick work of untying the laces and slipped your sneaker off. His hands felt ice cold against your feet as he gently pulled your sock back over your heel.
For as big as John was, he was extremely gentle. His fingers were calloused over and rough, but his touch was the complete opposite. He was nothing but gentle, and caring, and soft with you (unless you requested otherwise).
You felt your face heat up from the interaction, a deep red blush covering your cheeks as he slipped your shoe back on and tied the laces. He set your foot back down on the ground before grabbing ahold of the other one and doing the same thing.
People were staring, you both knew that, but it was such a sweet gesture that you completely blocked out the existence of everyone else around you. John stood back up once your other shoe was on, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before he turned back around and continued to the car. Your hand still gripped tightly into his own.
You had a huge smile plastered across your face as you pushed yourself into his side. Your other hand holding onto his bicep, your nails gently digging into them.
“Thank you…” you said appreciatively. John smiled in response.
“Anything for you, love.”
(someone please stab me, I love John so much)
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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year ago
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Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER TWO | 18+
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«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
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THE MATCHMAKER MEETS HIS MATCH
“Ruin me, please.”
«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»
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Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, brief mentions of virginity loss, heavy drinking, Hyunjin is delulu, heavy dom/sub dynamics: dom!reader, sub!Han Jisung (yes, there's Jisung smut in a Hyunjin story SUE ME), degradation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, drunk sex (both are consenting parties), semi-public sex (?) Word Count: 15.1k
P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡
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“And now, here’s what we really want to ask you, Dr. Hwang: are you single?” 
The interviewer swivels her head to look at Hyunjin, her Botox-enhanced mouth spreading into a wide, magenta-lipsticked smile. Hyunjin barely registers her question, distracted by her disturbing resemblance to a vulture, with her beady eyes, hooked nose, and razor-sharp nails clutching a microphone like talons grasping prey. Her garish pea-green pantsuit and cat-eye glasses, combined with a frizzy blonde perm, remind him of that creepy reporter from Harry Potter, absolutely not helping his currently depleted Zen levels. 
He can already feel a sweat breaking out on his neck, permeating his satin button-down and threatening to ruin the outfit he had chosen this morning. Usually, picking out what to wear is one of Hyunjin’s favorite parts of the entire day; breathing in the Coco Noir scent of his walk-in closet is like Hyunjin’s own expensive version of aromatherapy. Today, however, it felt like a chore; It took him forever to find the perfect accessories to tie everything together, before he finally settled on his new gold Cartier earrings and the matching Juste un Clou bracelet. Hyunjin knows he looks amazing in his tastefully vintage yet sleek ensemble. He looks every bit the title of a sexy savant, one that he so rightfully carries. He looks ready to slay an interview on California’s most popular talk-show, The L.A. View. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t feel it. 
It could have been the coffee that he had hand-pressed for himself this morning, his usual brew of arabica beans imported from the misty slopes of Guatemala. But then again, the coffee brought a much-needed buzz that Hyunjin needed to drag himself out of bed, no matter how temporary. More likely, it was the margarita that he’d downed in the car that was sent to pick him up and bring him to the studio to tape the interview. Tequila always makes Hyunjin’s stomach turn. Or maybe—
“Dr. Hwang?”
Hyunjin snaps out of his reverie, plastering a charmingly mysterious smile onto his face. One, two, three… work that charm. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sharon?”
The audience oohs beneath the dimmed stage lighting, and Sharon turns red, a shade visible even under the lurid bronzer that’s caked onto her face. Hyunjin would really love to book Sharon an appointment at HWASA Skincare and Cosmetics, his go-to beauty consultant whenever he’s visiting Seoul. The founder and CEO, his old friend Hye-Jin, would personally host her just so that Hyunjin could be relieved of the horrible bout of trypophobia he’s getting right now, staring into Sharon’s cavernous pores.
“Oh, stop it!” Sharon giggles, clapping her hands together. “There definitely must be a lucky lady in your life. You’re the Love Doctor. And not to mention, but very handsome.”
Sharon winks over exaggeratedly at the camera, and Hyunjin has to hold himself back from cringing away when she palms his shoulder, eyeing him hungrily. He can’t blame her, of course; the sleeves of his shirt squeeze his arms in such a way that his toned biceps are shown off— thank you very much, Better Body Pilates. But he needs his personal space. Out of everything, he hates when people treat him like some sort of an animal at the zoo, petting and prodding at him. He sees himself as more of the Mona Lisa, a masterpiece to be marveled at, not touched. His Zen is important, after all. 
Still, Hyunjin just shoots her a disarming smirk, crossing one Valentino-clad leg over the other. “The only lady in my life is Princess Diana. But I’d say I’m the lucky one.”
Both Sharon and the audience members aww, utterly captivated by Hyunjin when he pulls out a small Polaroid of his puppy from his breast pocket, holding it out so that the cameras can zoom in on it. As expected, his answer seems to have satisfied Sharon’s invasiveness, but beneath his beaming expression hides the building tension in his chest. 
What Hyunjin said is the partial truth; he may not currently have a significant other, but did he have someone in mind, when romance is in question? Yes. Is said person completely off-limits? Also yes. And would his reputation be completely tarnished if that very classified information got out? Yes, yes, and yes.
“Thank you so much for sitting down with us, Dr. Hwang,” Sharon says, thrusting out her hand for Hyunjin to shake it. Ever the professional, he accepts it like a champ. “And that’s all for now, folks! Stay tuned to watch my little chat with Meghan Markle about her ex-royal lifestyle. The teapot is boiling!”
The cameras cut and Hyunjin quickly excuses himself, waving to all of the people wistfully gazing after him. He enters the little hallway behind the filming room and breaks into a run very unlike himself, practically having to swerve around crew members and stage equipment. As soon as he’s locked away inside his dressing room, Hyunjin slides off his patent leather loafers and falls back onto the couch.
It’s been exactly three months since he first set eyes on you, kickstarting his unsavory fantasies and therein, digging himself into an early grave. And maybe it would have been okay, because as a male, sometimes he’s inclined to think with his dick. It’s a biological reaction that he can’t control. But it’s not, though, because the constant image of you printed like a tattoo on his mind has been interfering with his life and sense of normalcy. It’s a feeling that’s only grown in magnitude, especially now that with your weekly sessions, you’ve rapidly blossomed into the strong, confident woman that he always knew you were. So it’s not the fact that he’s horny— well, not the only fact— it’s that he might have feelings for you. Feelings that could get him into trouble, bigtime.
And the list that you wrote for him a while back definitely didn’t help. Hyunjin sits up, reaching for his notepad that he left on the little coffee table in front of the couch. He leafs through the pages, before pulling out the small slip of paper that he saved. Reading over the words for what feels like the umpteenth time, Hyunjin involuntarily smiles to himself. This time, it’s genuine.
The first thing that I don’t absolutely hate about myself is my imagination. I’ve been restricting myself a lot, lately, because I hated the thought of coming up with new ideas just to never bring them to life. It’s probably my post-Jisung and ITEM Tech trauma. But I felt kind of inspired by our first meeting today. I have a lot of great ideas, and I think that one day, I have the potential to beat Jisung’s ass and make a better company than his.
My fucking patience. You know, you might think otherwise, because it may seem like I have the patience of a single mom at a birthday party. But today proved differently. My friend/coworker Minho and his wife invited me over for dinner, which would have been fine, except they’re one of the most disgustingly perfect couples ever. They can’t go two minutes without giving each other a sappy ass look or holding hands or singing a song or something. And then Minho’s wife asked me if I wanted some ice cream, like she and her man weren’t just all over each other a millisecond ago. I just smiled and nodded. You can say I have the patience of the saint, now.
I like how I’m perseverant. For example: this. I could have given up after the first two days and ditched this piece of paper. But I didn’t. I want to be better. I’m very perseverent. Okay, my hand hurts. I’m putting down the pen for today.
My resilience. For the billionth time in my life, my boss made me want to drive out of work and jump into a lake. Long story short, Mark Lee is the worst motherfucker to ever exist (well, after his bestie Park Jisung. My boss and ex-boyfriend are friends. FML). But after one of his daily rants about how I’m not up to mark for some random reason, I walked out of his office and into the office kitchen. I got a Sprite from the fridge, crushed the full can with my bare hands, and then proceeded to calmly clean up the spilled soda before going back to work. I deserve a medal for my healthy anger management technique of smashing things and then bouncing back like a friggin’ spring.
The only home cooked meals I can really stomach are the ones that Minho shares with me at work. You know, he’s really such a menace. When I moved into my current apartment, he got me a cutting board as a gift, knowing damn well I don’t cook. But nowadays, I’ve been slowly getting more comfortable in the kitchen. I still don’t think I trust myself in cooking, but I’m kind of a really good baker, I’m realizing. Today, I made brownies. I’m eating one right now, and I guess I don’t hate that.
I am very patient, Part 2. My dumbass cousin, Yeonjun, called me up to hang out. Knowing him, that means me buying him a crap ton of expensive food. And he’s pretty loaded, too. I think he just loves pissing me off. First, he wanted pizza. That would have been fine, if we hit Domino’s or something, but he made me take him to this ridiculously upscale restaurant downtown. Their damn pizzas had caviar and truffles on them! Like, what the fuck happened to good old pepperoni? And as if that wasn’t enough, he then started complaining that he wanted fucking dessert too. So he ordered this fruit charcuterie board that cost another fortune. On the way home, I had to get him an $8 boba because “the cheese made him thirsty.” His metabolism is amazing. I’m kind of jealous. But anyway, I’m practically Mother Teresa at this point, because dealing with Yeonjun is no easy task. He’s lucky I love him.
Fundamentally, I think I’m a good person. And I think I deserve to be happy. There. Seven things, seven days. I’m done now. See you tomorrow.
Hyunjin sighs, sliding the paper back into his book and setting it inside his little Prada bag. This tiny scrap of paper had him seeing stars, when he first read it in the office, in front of you. There’s just something about you that he couldn’t and still can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s how delightfully pugnacious you are, or that comically angry tone you approach the world with, no matter what. And he had to bite his tongue too, because there’s no way you came up with just seven things, not when Hyunjin felt like he could give a whole recitation on your very attractive qualities, just after meeting with you once. You’re unintentionally hilarious. Real. Tough. Inquisitive. Also, you’re simply the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
You’re like an impossible puzzle to him; all the pieces are there, and yet, he can’t seem to put you together. Or rather, he can’t seem to figure out how to get his own shit together and finish the damn puzzle. Because he’s oh-so down bad, and he knows it. 
“Dr. Hwang? Are you in there?”
Hyunjin stands up immediately, locking away his daydreams about you and brushing off his trousers. He quickly smooths back his artfully slicked wolf cut and opens the door for Wonyoung to step inside with her trusty tablet. Momentarily, Hyunjin is sidetracked by her outfit, a stylish mini paired with a silky lilac bomber jacket— because where the fuck are those heels from— before he remembers himself.
“What’s up?” Hyunjin nonchalantly flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes, trying not to seem like he wasn’t just having a panic attack on that stupid couch just five seconds ago.
Wonyoung taps on the screen of the tablet for a few seconds, before looking up. “You have an appointment with your personal trainer in twenty minutes. You’re running late. And then at four, you need to get back to SeoulSpark for a meeting with a client. Here’s your change of clothes. I’ve already called a car for you.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Hyunjin accepts the gym bag, before jerking back in dreadful realization. “Wait. Which client do I have to meet with today?”
Wonyoung gives him a strange look. “Miss Y/L/N. Hey, are you alright, Dr. Hwang? You always stay on top of all of your engagements, but you haven’t been yourself lately.”
At the mere mention of your name, Hyunjin literally wishes he could melt into a puddle right then and there. Of course he hasn’t been himself, not when you waltzed into the office and wreaked havoc on his very humble life— for example, yesterday, he forgot to wear his Versace pajamas to sleep, and not his Fendi ones. Hyunjin knows that Saturdays are strictly for Versace; he promised Donatella years ago at the Met Gala. This is all your fault— how can it be poor Hyunjin’s, when he’s just a mere mortal cowering in your goddess-like presence? 
“I- I’m okay, Wonyoung. I, uh, just ate some bad sushi.”
“You ate bad sushi every day for the past three months?” Wonyoung suspiciously raises an eyebrow at Hyunjin. She isn’t buying it, unfortunately. 
“Uh-huh. It’s a terrible addiction that I’m trying to break. My raw seafood intake is off the charts. Guess I’m not perfect after all,” Hyunjin babbles, adding onto his already horrendous lie. 
Wonyoung still doesn’t look convinced, but Hyunjin flounces out of the room before she can say anything else and uncover his deep, dark secret: you. Besides, his ride is waiting outside and his quads really need working.
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“See you later, Changbin.” Hyunjin waves to his trainer as he grabs his belongings and exits the gym after a grueling workout. Usually, he prefers more low-impact routines, like aerial yoga or cycling around Marina del Rey. But because he’s been skimping out so much these days, Changbin made him do an endless round of jump squats before beating his ass in boxing. 
Hyunjin presses his fingers to his aching back muscles, sore with both exhaustion and worry. The slim hands of his Rolex alert him to the fact that there is only one more hour before he must face you, and he is nowhere near ready. He’ll just have to skip the sauna today. Quickly, he gets into the car standing for him by the curb, slipping on his Gucci shades and sliding down below the window in the backseat, like a celebrity escaping a paparazzi cloud.
As soon as he gets back to Oasis, the opulent complex that houses his beloved penthouse, Hyunjin practically flies into his bathroom and locks the door. Without even bothering to set his eucalyptus shower steamer, Hyunjin cleans himself up as much as he can, scrubbing off the sweat and grit of the gym from his skin. 
Once he’s finished, he gets dressed and sits down in front of his bedroom mirror that’s designed to look like a Hollywood-style vanity. Taking a deep breath, he inspects his face for any signs of something off. Nope. He looks as dewy and fresh as a pink rose petal, minus the slight red rings under his eyes, which are the courtesy of many, many sleepless nights over you.
Hyunjin, however, is incredibly proud of himself for getting to the office with fifteen minutes to spare, therein being able to fit in a little solo pep talk in the car. His third outfit of the day is a show-stopping black Celine suit, practically designed to make heads turn. It definitely isn’t to impress you with his impeccable style— no, he did it for himself, obviously. That’s the only reason. And it’s a little extravagant, even for Hyunjin, but then again, he’s never been known for his subtlety. 
His post-workout clarity gives him hope that everything will go back to normal, before you. All he needs to do is focus on himself. Everything else will pass, eventually. At least, that’s what Hyunjin keeps telling himself to believe, right before he crashes headfirst into you in the hallway outside of his office.
“Hey, Hyunjin!” Grinning, you hold out a small gift box tied with a sunny bow, which is coincidentally the exact same yellow as the dress you wore when Hyunjin first met you. Today, you’re sporting salmon-colored shorts and a cream blouse with an adorable sailor collar, and Hyunjin immediately has to tamp down the urge to whisk you away to go on a private boating vacation on a yacht in St. Barts. God, you really have amazing style.
Hyunjin swallows roughly and takes the box, trying to look more excited about it than how utterly taken with you he is. “Afternoon, darling. What’s this?”
You reach your hand over to where the box rests in Hyunjin’s hands, toying with the bow. Hyunjin automatically feels himself internally hyperventilate at your proximity that’s too close for comfort. 
“Mango cheesecake. I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe for a while now, and I think it finally turned out really well.” You break into a bright smile that makes Hyunjin’s brain short circuit. “I want to thank you for all of your help, besides me being less-than-cooperative sometimes. Coming here has really changed my perspective on things, and for the better.”
Hyunjin clutches the box to his chest. He had always suspected that you are the sweetest, under your stormy exterior, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to get a taste and confirm the truth for himself. Nevertheless, he’s both touched and now even more delusional, because you spent time on him, making something to give him. “Darling, you shouldn’t have.”
You pout in response, and Hyunjin grasps the box even tighter, nearly crushing the contents in an effort to get a grip on himself. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”
Hyunjin grins, feeling himself relax a little. That’s one more thing about you— you have this contradicting ability to induce both calmness and anxiety into him, another kind of black magic that you definitely harbor in your bewitching eyes. “Well, thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”
You look away shyly and gesture towards Hyunjin’s office. “Should we head in?”
Smiling to himself, Hyunjin steps ahead to open the door for you as you duck your head and scramble in, folding yourself onto the sofa that you both are now well-acquainted enough to often share. After setting his velvet tote bag onto his desk, Hyunjin sits down beside you, holding out a glass of mango juice to you, a drink that you now frequent whenever you meet. Plus the cheesecake? You really must love mangoes.
As you sip on your juice, Hyunjin decides to take the reasonable course of action available: ask you about your day, not if you’re available next Friday night at six. “How have you been? I’m sorry I couldn’t see you last week.”
You shrug, waving off Hyunjin’s apology like it’s nothing. It isn’t, though; he would rather have spent time with you than having to fly to Shanghai for some brand endorsement deal that his agent made him take. “Don’t worry about it. And I’ve been good. Evidently, in a much more agreeable mood these days. It’s certainly a step-up from the grumpier me, isn’t it?”
“I like you however you are,” Hyunjin blurts out without thinking, before freezing in realization. In a better world, he would have had the sense to at least clamp his hand over his mouth before he could say something stupid, but unfortunately, he’s stuck here. He wills the stammering, bumbling idiot that he turns into when you’re around to disappear, to be replaced by his usual, suave self. It doesn’t quite work, because he feels a furious blush building on his neck.
You’ve also turned a light shade of pink, and Hyunjin prays to God that you can’t see through his bullshit. “Because I’m your client. You accept me however I am.”
Hyunjin has to mentally stab himself with a fork as a reminder that he cannot, under any circumstances, disagree, although he really, really wants to. You could never be just a client to him. You’re too precious to him for that title. Yet, he keeps a straight face as he nods, disgusted with what he’s about to say. “Exactly. You’re my client.”
You down the rest of your drink, setting the glass down on the coffee table. “Anyway, you emailed me that you had something special planned for today. What is it?”
“Right.” Hyunjin clears his throat, getting up from the sofa to make his way over to his desk. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out the thick binder he’s been dreading using with you for a while now. It weighs his hands down like an unpleasant secret as he sits back down next to you. 
“What’s this?” You inquire, leaning in closer to Hyunjin. The movement allows the sugary scent of your vanilla perfume become even more prominent to Hyunjin, which is definitely not helpful right now. Hyunjin stares down at the binder, adopting a robotic tone that won’t betray his thoughts.
“We’ve worked on just you for the past few months, and now it’s time. You’re finally ready to explore dating.” Hyunjin opens the binder, trying to ignore the sour taste of the words on his tongue. “And as I’ve told you before, SeoulSpark has an incredible matchmaking service that caters to everything you desire in a potential partner.”
“Cool! How does it work?” 
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices your shorts ride up slightly, further exposing the soft skin of your upper thigh. Think of the fork, Hyunjin. Think of the damn fork.
“Well, I’ve already compiled a number of candidates in our database whose profiles complement yours. We’re going to be setting up a time when you can speed date them.” 
You quirk your eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is to Hyunjin. “Speed dating? That’s…”
“I know, I know. It might seem weird at first, but that’s why we’re doing it the SeoulSpark way, to reduce awkwardness and make it really worth your time. We’ll go over the candidates briefly, and weed out the ones you really don’t want to see.” Hyunjin opens the binder, going to the profiles. “But I won’t tell you their names, so we can maintain at least a small element of surprise.”
Your eyes widen as you take in the first candidate’s picture, and Hyunjin has to fight the burning jealousy in his chest. “Wow. He’s handsome.”
“Swipe left or right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” Hyunjin turns to the next page. “What about him?”
“Uh, left. He reminds me of my uncle. No thank you.”
Hyunjin stifles his smile as he continues flipping through the profiles, noting down your answers. He tries to enjoy your unfiltered reactions and not think about the fact that one of these lucky bastards could be your future husband. Finally, he gets to the last candidate.
You frown. “He looks kind of like a chipmunk. A quokka, maybe.”
“So is that a left?”
“I’ll say right. He seems like he’d be interesting.” You shrug, your eyes glittering with mischief. “Actually, I’m kind of excited now. Some of these guys are lookers.”
Hyunjin laughs in spite of himself, shutting the binder and standing up. “I’ll email you the details of the event by next week, when we’ll be holding it. ”
You nod, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear— oh, how Hyunjin wishes he could just casually do that for you. “Got it. I’ll make sure to look dazzling.”
“Darling, you always look dazzling.” Hyunjin smirks in self-satisfaction when you flush at his quip. It’s not exactly a reaction that’s foreign to him, but seeing you like this, all cute and bashful, is new. And it’s a look that’s very attractive on you. Hopefully, you attribute the flirting to Hyunjin’s naturally charming personality, not the fact that he’s impossibly gone for you. Not that the truth would make a difference, however. You’ll never be his.
“Thanks, Hyunjin.” You get up from your seat, letting Hyunjin walk you out, like he always does. “I feel like you have a vision going on for this matchmaking event.”
“Oh, I always have a vision.” Hyunjin chuckles, opening the door for you. “We’re considering a tropical theme, or a garden party, maybe. Or something glamorous. Kind of like prom, but without the bad music and horny teenagers, you know?”
You shrug. “Actually, I never went to my high school senior prom. But all of these ideas sound incredible.”
He pauses, his eyes widening. “You never went to prom?”
“There was this guy.” You look uncomfortable, but before Hyunjin can assure you that you don’t have to tell him about it, you decide to continue. “I wanted to go with him, but long story short, he rejected me. And I didn’t really have any friends I could go with either. I could have gone on my own, but I wasn’t brave enough. It’s one of the things that I did when I was younger that I regret now. I guess it just speaks volumes about how I hold myself back a lot.”
Hyunjin frowns. “Who in their right mind would reject you?”
“My first love, apparently. And a bunch of others.” You sigh, fiddling with the little bow on your sleeve. “But whatever. I’m going to find a real man.”
“They’re idiots. And prom isn’t even all that.”
You snort. “Says you. I’ll bet you were the kind of guy who got invited by all of the girls to be their date to prom, even if you weren’t even a senior yet.”
“Exactly. I would know precisely that prom is overrated as fuck.” Hyunjin gives you a smile. “Maybe we’ll just go with the garden party.”
You stay quiet for a moment, as if thinking something over, before looking directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Shame. I think I would’ve liked to see you in a tux.”
And with that, you turn around and leave, as Hyunjin just stays rooted on the spot, dumbfounded. Because how can you just so easily shoot an arrow straight into his heart and walk away? You’re a threat to society. You’re a wicked enchantress. You’re the bane of Hyunjin’s existence, and yet, he wants you to come back and string him along like a fucking bow. The dilemma is clear: Hyunjin absolutely cannot just move on from you. This is an extremely deafening cry for help.
“Wonyoung?” Hyunjin croaks, as he steps back inside and collapses onto his chair.
Hyunjin’s loyal secretary sticks her head into the room, her glossy locks tumbling over her shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Hyunjin makes a mental note to ask her later about her hair care routine. “Yes, boss?”
“Call Dr. Kim for me, please. I don’t feel so good.”
“Of course. I guess the bad sushi really got you this time.”
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“Strep throat? Negative. Flu swab test? Negative. Every single other test you made me administer for you? Ditto.” 
Hyunjin aggressively rubs his palms over his face. “Is there anything else, Seungmin? Are you sure there is absolutely nothing wrong with me? Should we do anything again?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, setting his clipboard down on the bench space next to him. “It’s Dr. Kim. And I did a Barium Swallow test for you, Hyunjin. You don’t just do those for any idiot who walks in begging to be examined for no apparent ailment. Took thirty minutes and nothing at all. Chief resident would be on my ass if she knew.”
“You’d think we haven’t been best friends since our Stanford days,” Hyunjin says. “There is something wrong with me.”
Hyunjin stares down at the upper right leg of his pants, picking at a small loose thread. He’s never seen one appear in his clothing ever since he was eighteen and quiet being so fashionably challenged, but instead of disgust, he feels a strange sense of solidarity. Just like the thread, he feels out of place; confused and lost, even though he’s standing right in the middle of half of the world’s dream. But wanting someone who he can never have isn’t a dream, surely, and neither is the phantom pain in his abdomen, the one that Dr. Kim claims doesn't exist.
“‘Our Stanford days’ were literally only three years ago. And I was in med school while you were getting a PhD in the study of crazies. I knew there were a couple screws loose up there,” Seungmin scoffs, tapping his temple in flourish punctuated with impudence. “I should have known better than to befriend your ass.”
“Seung-min, you’re lying,” Hyunjin retorts, emphasizing the syllables of his friend’s name. “I swear, I’m sick.”
Seungmin groans, fed up with Hyunjin’s stubborn mindset. “You’re twenty-eight years old and have your own booming practice. Hell, you wear head-to-toe designer, even underwear— yes, I saw the Gucci briefs in your bag, that one time you made me go shopping with you. Meanwhile, I’m a stressed, overworked, and underpaid surgery resident who has to listen to his rich and famous best friend complain that he’s not feeling well. Oh, poor baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying! I’m trying, okay?” Hyunjin finally explodes, throwing his hands up in the air. Usually, he maintains that peaceful temperament that puts up with Seungmin’s attitude. Not today, however. “Honestly, Seungmin, you want to know what’s wrong with me? Her. She’s all over me, inside and out! Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of her. Everywhere I go— her. And you know what? It’s not all in my head. It’s not a fucking crazy case. I physically feel myself wanting to throw up every five fucking minutes. I have a horrible headache that won’t go away, no matter how long I rot in my bed. I’m sore all over and I just want to go home!”
Hyunjin’s best friend just glares at him in shock for a good few seconds, watching as he pants from the ferocity of his words. And then he recovers, smoothing his face over into that signature judgemental expression, because he’s Kim Seungmin. “I should’ve known this was about a girl.”
Hyunjin sighs. Thankfully, no one overheard his rant, because this is Seungmin’s lunch break and whenever Hyunjin insists on an emergency meeting, Seungmin brings him over to this empty corridor tucked behind the equipment storage rooms, where no prying eyes wander. 
“It’s not just any girl, Seungmin. It’s the girl. She’s… all I do know is that she’s my client who walked into my life three months ago and proceeded to destroy it. She came in like a tropical storm and now she smiles at me like the fucking sun. She confuses me and makes me forget random shit and she doesn’t even know about any of it. And all I want to be is hers, even though I can’t be.”
Seungmin doesn’t say anything, before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes his body shake with impact. “You… are… acting… so stupid.”
And this only makes Hyunjin even more frustrated. “Well, that’s the whole damn point! I’m not stupid, but I’m obviously acting it! I don’t know what to do, Seungmin! Help a brother out!”
After he calms himself down, Seungmin sighs loudly and wipes the traces of any tears caused by amusement of Hyunjin’s plight. “I’m not an expert in this, Hyunjin. But to be honest, it seems to me that you’re falling for her, and you’re just in denial.”
Hyunjin feels nothing short of horrified. “But… I can’t be. Are you sure?”
“Aren’t you the friggin’ Love Doctor or some shit? How the fuck am I supposed to be sure?”
But Hyunjin barely hears Seungmin, getting off the bench to pace back and forth in the little hallway. He can’t be falling for you, because— he just can’t! The plethora of problems that would arise from him falling in love with you are fucking endless, the worst being that you could end up negatively impacted. And all because your stupid, idiotic dating coach couldn’t keep his stupid, idiotic feelings in check. He would rather give up his beloved Versace brand deal than ever see you hurt, and that’s really saying something.
Seungmin tries to get to Hyunjin again. “Or maybe you’re not falling for her. Maybe you’re just horny.”
Hyunjin whirls around, side-eyeing Seungmin with disgust. “The hell you mean?”
“When’s the last time you, you know? Got some?”
“You put it so eloquently.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “And it’s been ten months.”
“See? That’s definitely it. You need to get laid, and you’re taking your sexual frustration out like this. You’re always the one lecturing everyone else on having healthy sex and love lives and shit, but really you’re a hypocrite. Tell me, why are you such a hypocrite, Hyunjin?”
Hyunjin crosses his arms, irritated yet able to see Seungmin’s point. He had his share of relationships, enough to augment his experience and research in the whole field. It’s not like they all ended badly, though— quite the opposite, really. The majority of them were amicable splits, or awkward conversations, at the very most. The only notably sour memory is Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend from ninth grade, the one who broke up with him in a fit of jealousy when another girl confessed her love for Hyunjin. But then again, all high school relationships are basically doomed to crash and burn.
Hyunjin was careful to never get into anything too serious anyway, because his only love would be his job; he broke up with his last girlfriend— which might be a strong word for someone who merely considered him a wine-and-dine booty call— because he just didn’t feel that same spark with her that he felt when running his business. And he didn’t think he had that capacity to feel it anywhere else, but that was all before you.
“I don’t know, Seungmin.” Hyunjin looks down glumly at the concrete flooring, his body completely exhausted of all of the fight in him
The look in Seungmin’s eyes softens as Hyunjin slumps back into his seat. “Don’t you think that you’ve been so busy thinking about helping other people with their loves that you’ve completely neglected yours? When are you going to stop being so goddamn perfect and care for yourself?”
“But I do care for myself! Why else would I have a fourteen-step skincare routine and Gucci boxers?” Hyunjin protests, stalling more than really arguing. He just doesn’t want to admit to what’s really bothering him.
Seungmin rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He should get back to rounds; lunch will be over soon. “That’s not self-care, that’s called being fucking weird. And I’m talking about your head. You have this illusion up there that in order to help others, you need to be flawless. Get out of it, man. Whether you want someone to have a one-night stand with or have your freaking children, you need to be open and pursue it. Life is messy and unpredictable, even for neurotic perfectionists like you. It’s okay to be horny. It’s okay to be in love. It’s okay to be you.”
Hyunjin ponders over Seungmin’s advice, before looking up. “I hate when you’re right.”
“I know.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you ‘fine’ me, dumbass. Go put on your Armani shit and get going, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t Mission Impossible. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.” Seungmin shakes his head, dusting off his scrubs. He leans forward to tighten the laces on his special work sneakers; the clock is really ticking down now.
Hyunjin gives Seungmin a withering look. “I wear Versace on my missions.”
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“Welcome to SeoulSpark’s third biannual company-wide Matchmaking Event!”
The small crowd of hopeful singles crammed into the gazebo politely claps as the speaker looks down at all of you from his perch on the little elevated platform, like some kind of an all-knowing benefactor. 
“Thank you everyone. You can call me Jin, and I’ll be your emcee and operations director on this fine afternoon.” He beams. “And can I just say, you people look so good today? Obviously not as much as me, but still.’”
A scattered collection of horribly faked laughter ripples throughout the gathering, and you have to resist rolling your eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jin does actually serve as great eye candy, you would’ve already been putting on your sunglasses and trying to fake being awake. 
“Dr. Hwang will be here in a few moments to intro, and then we’ll get on with it!” Jin states, continuing his unnecessary theatrics. “But while we wait, can someone answer this question: what do you call an ice cream that parties too hard?”
Before the inevitable awkward silence can ensue, some bored-looking man who stands a little further away from everyone else pipes up. You recognize him as the very first candidate whose picture Hyunjin had presented to you— the hot one— except now, his short, preppy haircut has grown out into a wavy mullet. “Just say it.”
Jin looks temporarily taken aback by the man’s unfiltered attitude, before correcting his expression back into a winning smile. “It is out of CONE-trol! Get it? Because of the ice cream cone? Isn’t that funny?”
There isn’t a single person in the crowd who looks impressed, least of all mullet-guy. “No. And it still wouldn’t be funny even if I was seven years old and actually liked horrible dad jokes.”
There’s a bite to his tone, and Jin seems to have taken it personally. Jin clears his throat, stuck while clearly trying to think of something to say, when relief comes over his face as he looks directly at you. “There he is! Dr. Hwang: the man of the hour.”
You turn around so fast that you nearly get whiplash, and of course Hyunjin is right there, towering over you like some sort of gorgeous sunflower. Fuck— you knew you smelled that stormy jasmine in the air, but you passed it off as just your imagination. And because there are so many people packed into this tiny pavilion, your bodies are practically pressed together as everyone else cranes their necks to get a load of the Love Doctor. 
“It’s so good to see you, darling. You look stunning,” Hyunjin says to you, in a way that seems so genuine that your baby blue gingham sundress from Target doesn’t feel so childish anymore, like you thought after seeing all of the other ladies’ stylish getups.
“Thanks.” You blush, averting your eyes. The last time you met up with him, your bolder alter-ego possessed you for a second and threw a flirty one-liner at Hyunjin, when you realized yourself and walked the hell away, before you could gauge his reaction. “You look very stunning yourself as well.”
And he truly is, as always, dressed in another quirky yet stylish look: a high-neck jacket and camel cargos, complete with a chain link shoulder leather bag. The thick gold crosses dangling from his ears don’t look gaudy, instead bringing out a youthful glow in Hyunjin’s skin. God, you really love a man who can dress.
“Everything alright, Dr. Hwang?” Jin calls out, breaking you out of your trance.
“Yes, Jin. I’ll be up in a second.” Hyunjin doesn’t take his eyes off of you, just serenely blinking like he has all the time in the world. “I absolutely adored your mango cheesecake, darling. You have to tell me about the recipe later.”
He shoots you one last disarming smile, before heading up to the platform, and you’re left to longingly stare after him like a dessert enthusiast on a sugar-free diet. You watch him take the mic from Jin, who dramatically holds out his hands towards Hyunjin when backing off of the platform. 
“Hello!” Hyunjin chirps, and really, the wind is a paid actor here, breezing in and perfectly tousling his midnight mane. 
This time, the audience’s response is more authentic, everyone responds in their own greetings out loud. You can’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight; your crush really is so charismatic.
“So, we’ve already explained how today’s going to work in the emails that were sent out to all of you a couple days ago. But to debrief: we will be having fifteen six-minute speed dating rounds today, each held at one of the designated tables,” Hyunjin explains, gesturing to the space surrounding the gazebo.
For the matchmaking event, SeoulSpark booked out Cafe Fiorella, a posh little eatery nestled in the heart of Vista Hermosa Natural Park’s dusty garden trails and meadows. Hyunjin and his planners did an outstanding job of organizing everything, and even you can’t help but note how impossibly romantic it is— for a speed-dating gig, at least. There are dainty bistro tables set up in the grassy outdoor dining area and nestled on top of them, multiple tiered platters loaded with hors d'oeuvres and decorative blossoms. You don’t even want to think about how much this would have cost.
“Before each round, you will all get a text providing you with the number of your table, where you will be able to chat with your partner, one of the candidates that corresponded with your profile.” Hyunjin catches your eye, and you feel yourself heat up. Focus. “After every round, take note of who you want to see again, and at the end, we’ll give you a form to fill out and submit. When you have your next appointment with us, we’ll let you know who you’ve matched with. Any questions?”
No one raises any, probably because they’re too self-conscious to ask in front of their potential partners, which leaves Hyunjin to just nod. “My team and I will be present as chaperones, just making sure everything is going smoothly. And I’d also like to thank our Dr. Jeon’s brother, Mr. Kim Seokjin, for volunteering to time and emcee the event!”
“Oh, Hyun. Always so formal. Call me Mr. Worldwide Handsome instead!” Jin calls out from the back. He does an exaggerated little bow and you— along with many other attendees— have to stifle a laugh. What a cheeseball. 
Hyunjin just smiles graciously, eyes crinkling with mischief. “Let’s get the party going!”
The up-tempo, raunchy sound of girl rap blasts out of speakers that you didn’t even know existed, scaring the shit out of you momentarily. You have no doubt at all that the afternoon’s garden party beats were compiled by your eccentric Love Doctor, before you start to subconsciously sway— and mentally twerk— to “Body.”
“Ladies and gents, this is just in with Jin! Make sure to find your seats in the next five minutes, and we’ll start the clock!”
Your phone chimes with your first table assignment of the day, and you make your way over there, dodging the throngs of men and women antsy to discover their matches. You sit down at your table, trying to ignore the nervousness building in your chest. With the presence of Hyunjin, his beautiful self lingering somewhere barely a few feet away from you, you’re not sure you can give today your best. And for the first time— it’s not you. It’s the fact that you have feelings for your unsuspecting charmer, and deep inside, you can’t fight the thought of not being able to get over him. 
But a lively ambiance courtesy of Megan Thee Stallion doesn’t fit the deep, contemplative mood, so you resort to pushing away your qualms and blankly gazing out at the high rise views while waiting for your partner. If this doesn’t work out, at least you can say you had a nice time humming to lovably NSFW music and raiding the appetizers. 
“Beefing with you bitches really getting kinda boring—”
“You know, I kind of vibe with this shit.” Mullet-guy from earlier plops down into the chair across from you. “Don’t tell Mr. Worldwide Handsome that, though. I’ll never give him the satisfaction.”
You giggle at the comically blank expression on mullet-guy’s face. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Jin would’ve added the EDM remix of “Savage” to the playlist.”
Mullet-guy doesn’t smile, but you catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m Yoongi.”
“Y/N.” You carefully take a mini slice of flaky herbed pastry off of the stand and place it on the china plate in front of you. Now that everyone has settled down, the music has been turned down to enable better conversation. “Maybe I’m being blunt here, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type of guy to go to a speed-dating event.”
“Well, what kind of guy do I strike you as?” Yoongi asks, settling back comfortably into his chair. If it was anyone else talking, you would have thought they were flirting with you. But not with Yoongi— you can’t quite put your finger on it, but he feels incredibly familiar to you. This could be just another regular talk with a good friend.
You make a show of taking in his beat-up leather jacket and the silver stud in his left ear, all add-ons to his roguishly handsome aesthetic. “Wannabe SoundCloud rapper meets Fuji Kaze, except with an even worse fashion sense.”
Most people would have already shrank away from your sarcastic sense of humor, but Yoongi claps back. “I could say the same for you. Don’t tell me you’re actually going for The Stepford Wives with that dress. You even have the Mary-Jane shoes.”
“These are discounted flats from Old Navy, don’t even. And I’ll bet your emo ass was stuck in Hot Topic since grade school.”
Yoongi bursts out laughing. “Okay, you win. But you’re not wrong though— I am a rapper, of sorts.”
You lean forward. “Really?”
“Of sorts— I haven't had much time to really get into it and improve myself, ever since I started my own record label last year, D-2 Music,” Yoongi says, picking at his peach scone. “Managing other artists is my focus these days. Been writing my whole life, though.”
“What do you like to write about?” You take a bite of your pastry, savoring how it nearly melts in your mouth. Maybe this thing isn’t that bad; good food and good conversation. Besides, this Yoongi is totally intriguing to you.
“Dreams, depression, obsession.” Yoongi steadily holds your gaze, and you don’t look away.
“Refreshing.”
“I get that a lot.” Yoongi takes a sip of his mimosa, before making a face and putting it back down. 
“No, but seriously. I hate pretending, most of all. Perfection doesn’t exist, and a lot of people can’t get a grip on that.” You shrug, wiping your mouth with one of the provided lavender napkins. “It is refreshing that you don’t seem to give a crap about others.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi smiles, and you think it’s a good look on him. It doesn’t fade even after what he says next. “We’re not going to be a match, are we?”
In that moment, you can confidently say that you are both the same exact person, and while it feels so good to finally speak with someone who might remotely understand exactly what you are, you know it can never be a sustainable relationship. The two strong-minded pessimists that you both are would only clash or just further bring each other down, in the end. So you return his smile, not a hint of sorrow in it. 
“Probably not.” Both of you clink your champagne classes together and drink on it, before collectively gagging at the taste.
“Time’s up, people! Please bid your partners adieu and get on to your next table!” Jin’s voice breaks out through his microphone, and immediately, the music resumes as the frenzy starts all over again.
You stand up, smoothing out your skirt and looking over at Yoongi, who stays seated, taking his own time finishing his scone. “Catch you later, Hot Topic.”
“Likewise, Mary-Jane.” Yoongi snickers, tilting his head up in a casual goodbye. 
You make your way to your new assignment, and as you approach, you remember him. The next person sitting there is the final candidate that Hyunjin had shown you, the one with the rather squirrely look to him. You have to admit, however, that he isn’t bad-looking, with wavy brown bangs falling into his eyes and a soft smile painting his features. He looks simple, a pretty boy waiting for a girl. You feel like you’re reading a picture book with a happy ending, because there are no puzzles to stay sleepless over. You see the bistro table becoming a kitchen counter, frequented for coffee talk and family dinners— there is no smoke-cracked glass desk that costs more than your entire salary. And you’re not Pygmalion sculpting Galatea, the gender bended Grecian rendition of the Hyunjin who plagues your thoughts; instead, you can see the elementary construction paper dotted with finger-painted sunny skies.
“Hi,” you greet, dragging out your chair and locking eyes with the stranger. Strangely, you don’t feel that telltale thump of your heartbeat in your panting chest— you sense a steady rhythm, and perhaps you could get used to it. Think: the picture book over the puzzle. You like staying in check and control— Hyunjin doesn’t allow you that power, no matter how unknowingly he keeps it for himself. 
“Hi,” he responds. “I, uh, thought you had a nice smile in your picture. It’s even better in real life.”
You stay unfazed; compliments don’t affect you much— when they come from anyone but Hyunjin. Still, it’s a cute try, and you decide to dig in deeper. To you, directness is key— again, when dealing with anyone but Hyunjin. 
You slide your finger down the damp side of your champagne flute, tracing a haphazard shape in the water drops. The man falls quiet again, and you don’t bother saying anything else, just taking him in. You don’t have much experience with conversation loaded with romantic intent, and this holds true even with your infamous ex-boyfriend.
Park Jisung had spied you at a holiday festival on your college campus, and then proceeded to ask you out. It was pretty unceremonious, to say the least, and thinking in hindsight, you can’t remember a time when he actually tried to get to know you. You were so enamored with him that you didn’t bat an eye, not even when he insisted on having sex with you on your very first date. And it was also your very first time, actually— but you didn’t question it. And the sex? It was over in less than five minutes and he left right after he finished, but it just felt nice to be wanted, for once. 
In the following months, you realized that when he wasn’t sleeping with you, Jisung was in his own world. You barely existed to him, while you memorized his Chipotle order and silently bought new soap for him when it ran out. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he just wanted a warm body in his bed to replace the other ones he’d fucked with all day. 
“You should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away on a regular basis,” the man blurts out, snapping you out of your depressing Jisung-reverie.
You bite back a snort— looks like Mr. Worldwide Handsome has new competition for the corniest person at this place. “Thank you.” 
He coughs, no doubt embarrassed by his poorly executed pick-up line. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Pretty people make me nervous.”
“You’re pretty too.” You shrug nonchalantly as the man blushes. “What’s your name?”
“Han Jisung.”
You nearly throw the champagne in his face. “Come again?”
“Jisung. My name is Jisung.”
You clench your fists under the table, trying not to break something. Of all the people in this world— of all the fucking names in this world— you just had to get set-up with a guy who shares the same name as a monster who did nothing but hurt you. What the fuck, universe? You glance at your phone screen peeking out of your purse— there are still four minutes left in this stupid round. 
“Hey, is everything good?” 
“Why wouldn’t it be?” You look up, giving him a venomous smile. Screw the picture book. “What do you like to do in your free time, Han Jisung? Don’t tell me you like to day-drink and play beer pong.”
“I’m not really a drinker. And you can just call me Ji-”
“Tell me, Han Jisung, is your zodiac sign Aquarius? And do you work in tech? Do you work for SM Tech? Do you?” You inquire without a break, gulping down your glass before refilling it with more of that horrendous champagne. The angel on your shoulder implores you not to project your ex-boyfriend’s personality onto the poor sucker sitting in front of you, but the devil whispers a different tune. You decide to follow the latter’s advice; raging hellfire is always more fun.
Han Jisung looks bewildered, but answers your question anyway. “Um, I'm a Virgo. I do work in tech, but with JYP Electronics.”
“Wonderful.” 
“Anyway… I never got your name,” Han Jisung tries, visibly shaken by your suddenly aggressive line of questioning. 
You scowl at him. “That’s because I already made the mistake of trusting someone like you, Han Jisung.”
There’s still a few seconds left in the round timer, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Your social battery has been exhausted, and all of the progress you’ve made in a long time has gone to dust in a mere five-minute parameter. You grab your bag and stalk away from the table, leaving Han Jisung staring after you, openmouthed and utterly perplexed by the unmerited hostility. But screw him— you can’t even live for a day without being reminded by your douchebag ex who traumatized the fuck out of you.
In your fury, you barely notice the rolling cart of lunch items that accidentally rams into your side. Bowls of pesto pasta fly off the cart, the roasted cherry tomatoes arching in the air in perfect semi-circles before splattering onto the pristine grass. The restaurant staff immediately attends to the mess, while the other guests just glance carelessly at the mess before continuing onto the next round. You rub your hip as Hyunjin rushes over to you.
“Darling, are you alright?” Hyunjin drapes his arm around your shoulders, gazing at you with concern. You melt into his touch for a moment, the frustration simmering with the longing inside of you. “Where were you going?”
You back away from him. “This was a bad idea. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”
He frowns, stepping closer to you. “But—”
“Han Jisung?” You interrupt, more animosity in your tone than you intend for there to be. “You knew his name when showing me his profile.”
Hyunjin’s eyes widen in both remembrance and regret. “Oh my god. I didn’t realize— I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Even taking into account how you feel right now, you don’t want to take it out on Hyunjin. Never. “It’s not your fault. But I’ll be on my way.”
Ducking your head, you turn and walk away, furiously blinking the tears away. A small part of you wishes Hyunjin would call you back, hug you close to him and ask you to stay. But he doesn’t, because he knows his boundaries. It’s you who doesn’t know their place, because regardless of the smarting pain inside of you, you want Hyunjin to bandaid your emotional damage. 
And as you pick up your pace, you realize that maybe you really are doomed to be Pygmalion, yearning for someone who no one else can even compare to, someone who’ll never be yours. No matter what sorts of grotesque demons haunt you, the most sinister of them all is the off-limits adonis who disturbs your heart even when you’re still reeling from the previous break. Han Jisung’s sunny skies woke you up from your dreams— Galatea is a fucking statue, art that will never come alive. 
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“Well, that was a colossal disaster.” Hyunjin covers his face with his palms and shrinks into the buttery leather upholstery of his seat. 
Wonyoung glances over at him as the car starts up. “What do you mean? I think it went great. I saw a sickening amount of flirting going on. Pretty soon, you’ll be officiating a bunch of weddings.”
Hyunjin groans, shaking his head. “But did you see the way Y/N left, Wonyoung? The whole Jisung thing? God, I screwed things up colossally.”
“It’s not your job to remember the names of all of your clients’ ex-boyfriends. It was an honest mistake that we both overlooked.”
“Still.”
“Dr. Hwang, I feel like there’s more to this than you’re letting on.” Wonyoung crosses her arms. “Since when did you get so worked up over a client— over anything?”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes like a petulant child. “I’m not getting worked up.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not.”
“Sure.” Wonyoung looks back down at her tablet, tapping away at the screen. “I’m already seeing so many matches.”
“Nice.” Hyunjin looks out the window pointedly. “It’s always fucking raining these days.”
“Dr. Hwang.”
Hyunjin ignores Wonyoung, just leaning forward to instruct the cab driver. “Actually, can you drop me off at The North End? Thanks.”
“Seriously. What is going on?” Wonyoung presses once more. “You can’t just go drinking now, not like this.”
“I’ll be fine, Ms. Jang.” Hyunjin doesn’t meet her eyes as he gets out of the car, placing a few bills covering the whole cab fare into her hands. “Get home safe.”
Before she can protest, Hyunjin closes the door and lets the drizzle envelop him, effectively ruining his new logo-motif jacquard set. But he doesn’t give a fuck as he steps into the bar like a shivering stray cat, because the stench of liquor and greasy peanuts is strong enough to incapacitate his inner fashion police. 
“Bourbon, on the rocks,” Hyunjin orders glumly, looking down at his phone screen, a shot of Princess Diana on her birthday last year. She looks absolutely precious in that fluffy pink tutu that he dressed her in, a sight that never fails to make Hyunjin melt. Today, however, not even his adorably stylish puppy can cure him. He downs the whiskey the bartender sets in front of him, wincing at the burn he so rightfully deserved.
When you stormed out of the party just barely two hours ago, it took every fiber of Hyunjin’s being to not run after you. He’d wanted to ditch everyone and just kiss it better for you. He’d take you back to his apartment, run you a bath, cook you a comfort meal, and massage all of your sore spots. And then he’d cuddle with you on the couch, holding you while you fall asleep in his arms. But his stupid common sense held him back, rooting him to the spot like a big, dumb boulder. 
After speaking with Seungmin, he realized how precisely he’s gone for you. And it obviously wouldn’t end well, so he decided that distance— complete professionalism— would be the way to go. Last night, he’d tried a crapload of healthy methods to try and fix himself, from watching porn to reading porn to even listening to porn on some sketchy podcast— anything to distract him from the thought of you. But nothing worked, because he wasn’t horny. No, he had an emotional boner— the worst kind of boners. In the end, he’d realized that the only way to move on from you would be get his ass out there and find someone else,a rebound— which is what he’d been dreading all along.
Therefore, he’d turned around like a fucking moron and went back to the party, listlessly floating around like a trash bag discarded on the highway. And now, he’s at some bar with high end cocktails that are just a pretentious way of saying “fuck me” to strangers.
“Hey there handsome, need company?”
Hyunjin looks to his left, where the sultry voice has originated from: a young woman— a pretty one, too. She’s wearing the kind of tight, black dress and matching coy smile that can only mean she wants one thing. Luckily, Hyunjin’s on the same page as her.
“What’s your name, darling?” Hyunjin asks her, ignoring the guilt inside his chest. That term of endearment was once reserved for you, and only you. He’d have to get over the sting of that too.
She sits down next to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and exposing the smooth skin of her neck. “Lisa.”
“Lisa,” Hyunjin repeats, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Tell me, what do you do?”
“I’m hoping it’ll be you tonight.” Lisa smirks at him, raising an eyebrow seductively.
Well. That was fast.
Hyunjin chuckles, trying not to think of the nausea rising in his stomach. He accepts the drink from the bartender, clinking his glass against Lisa’s, meeting her darkened eyes over the rim.
“I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”
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You haven’t watched trashy Youtube videos in months, thinking you’d left that disgusting habit behind, and yet, here you are, watching said trashy Youtube videos. Today, it’s a shotgun wedding getting upstaged by one of the bridesmaids proclaiming her love for the groom. You feel an old chips packet somewhere inside the bedsheet hollow you’ve burrowed yourself into, the crumbs poking into your back like unwanted intruders. However, you just try to ignore the nasty feeling and slump into the mattress, pulling the bedcovers up so they cover your chin. 
It’s been almost a full week since the matchmaking debacle that you absolutely made a spectacle of yourself at. You’ve spent the entire time drifting off to work, getting yelled at by Mark for no reason at all, and then coming home and lazing around. At this point, your gym membership must be a mere accessory, and the nearby 7-Eleven that you frequent for junk food is practically your second home. Fuck— you’re disgusted with yourself.
Resorting to self-destructive yet containable activities has always been your go-to for whenever you’ve been down— you’ll let yourself be fine with the world falling apart as long as it’s inside the confines of your humble abode. For months, however, you’d truly believed that you were past it. Hyunjin’s presence in your life inserted a certain desire inside of you— not to be better for him, but to be better because of him. Hyunjin opened your eyes to the real beauty of living, of having passion for any trade and a lust for happiness. That kind of positive outlook kept you climbing up that hill, no matter how arduous it was to maintain good spirits for the majority of the time. But as soon as a crisis hit, you bailed on your trek and fell back down the cliff.
You feel truly guilty as well, an emotion that usually got lost in the web of pity and hatred that you spun yourself into whenever you know you’ve done something wrong. Han Jisung didn’t deserve to be subjected to your outburst, you know that— that should have been reserved for the person who actually wronged you. You never actually got the chance to confront Park Jisung, not after he walked out like he didn’t just fucking break you. Deep inside, you know that you take out that inky mixture of unresolved frustration and regret on every single person who dares trigger you, even if it’s unintentional. Han Jisung was one such unfortunate target today.
A small chime alerts you to a new message, and you tear your eyes away from your laptop, reaching for your phone on your nightstand. In the notifications on your home screen, you see that it is not an email from Hyunjin like you’d unrealistically hoped for— instead, it’s a text from Yeonjun, your cousin who’s a constant thorn in your fucking side.
Yeonjun: hmm i’m thirsty :P
You: no yeonjun, i will not take you out for drinks.
Yeonjun: pretty pls w a cherry on top
You: fuck off
Yeonjun: u seem upset :(((
You: i’m having adult problems, yeonjun. leave me alone.
Yeonjun: well then i will help you with ur adult problems
Yeonjun: u know, i’m an adult too OMG
Yeonjun: come on, when have i ever not given u great advice?
Yeonjun: i missed my fucking calling in therapy. i woulda been an excellent shrink.
Yeonjun: i’m an amazing cousin who always is there for u. y/n i lysm, u know that?
Yeonjun: u know what else i love? Vodka. 
Yeonjun: but i love u too <3
You: Yeonjun, stop fucking spamming me or I’m not coming.
Yeonjun: YAYY!
With a defeated sigh, you shove the blankets to the side, the cold air conditioning gripping your body like a vice. But begrudgingly, you have to admit that it feels refreshing to get out of your sweaty hideout and step into the shower, cleaning yourself up as much as you can on the outside— the inside issue can be attended to with the drinks.
A half hour later, you find yourself in a skeevy dive bar on the Westside, doing shots with your cousin, because even though he irritates you to the core, he’s all you have. You really could use that drink, anyway. But no amount of alcohol seems to mask the way your heart hangs heavier than the full moon outside. In fact, the liquid courage just manifests your sadness even more, leaving you a sniveling mess on the bar counter.
“And, he was actually really cute, you know? But I could never date him,” you sniffle, after downing your fifth drink. “It’s just, I just can’t deal with any reminders of Jisung.”
Yeonjun knocks back his vodka. “I take it back. If therapy means dealing with saps like you, I’d rather die.”
You frown at him. “It’s better than being a failing TikTok influencer. When’s the last time any of your thirst traps got views?”
Yeonjun shrugs, unbothered by your jab; he’s as used to you as you are to him. “You could’ve at least hooked up with him, if he was that cute.”
You swirl your straw in the melting ice as you get on your phone, pulling up the follow-up email in which Hyunjin had sent you online scans of the candidate profiles. Yeonjun looks over your shoulder and whistles as you zoom-in on Han Jisung’s picture. “But I’ve only ever slept with Jisung before. I may be a scary bitch, but I’m not bold enough for that.”
“At least you’re self-aware,” Yeonjun cackles. “Well, it’s only a better reason to have a one-night stand. Do you really want to give your trash ex-boyfriend the power of being the only person to have had sex with you? That’s kind of sad.” 
Yeonjun makes a face, shivering in disgust, and you sock him in the elbow in retaliation. “For someone so bitchless, you really have such strong opinions about me and my love life.”
“Who says I’m bitchless?” Yeonjun grins deviously. “Besides, you’re the one who told me all this crap in the first place.”
You glance up at the ceiling, feeling an indescribable sense of loss. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind a one-night stand, though. I guess getting laid is something I kind of need right now. I need to stop letting Jisung control every aspect of my life.”
“Well, if you’re not averted to the idea, a person of interest just walked in.”
You whip around to look at the door, and of all people, Han Jisung from the matchmaking event walks in. He doesn’t notice you at the counter, just making his way over to one of the booths near the entrance and sitting down in solitude. The waiter takes his order and walks away, leaving him to put on his headphones in wait.
“I think I must be living in a social experiment.” You groan and look over at Yeonjun. “Hell if I’m sleeping with him.”
“Did you or did you not just say that you don’t want to let your ex control your life?”
You stare at Yeonjun. “I can sleep with someone else. He’s probably too scared of me anyway. I kind of verbally-knifed him the other day.”
“Please. Everything about that guy screams ‘degrade me.’ He probably liked that shit. You might as well use him as a punching bag again— this time, more productively.” Yeonjun waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.
“The fuck do you know about productivity?”
“Nada. But I do know a lot about getting a fix when needed.” Your cousin winks at you, producing a packet of condoms out of nowhere and slapping it into your palm. Before you can react, Yeonjun is already slinking off to go and flirt with a pretty girl sitting by herself on the other end of the counter. And alas, you’re left alone again. With a packet of XL condoms— Yeonjun sure is optimistic.
You glance over at said person of interest, who is currently immersed in whatever song that’s got him bopping his head to the beat, eyes closed as if in a dreamy trance. He’s not your type, for sure. But the thing is, you don’t even know what your damn type is at this point— if it wasn’t for Hyunjin’s ability to make you feel inappropriate things so vividly, you’d have thought you had fucking cobwebs down there. Speaking with Yeonjun really was a reminder that you’re still young, after years of both an emotional and physical dry spell. Emotionally, you might not be ready. Physically, however, there’s an opening, and you know it.
When you were dating Park Jisung, sex was always initiated by him. It was always for himself too, because he never cared about making you feel good. But you didn’t see it as a red flag, since you were so in love with him. You just followed him around like an innocent, lovesick puppy that was eager to please. And in the end, even that wasn’t enough.
Your first orgasm— and first experience with a deeper kind of desire— was alone, some time after your relationship ended. It was a quiet night, and you’d just fallen back onto the couch after another long, uneventful day at work. You flipped through the TV channels before settling on a network that was playing The Notebook, and despite its fame and reach, you’d never watched the movie before. Everything was normal until the main characters started kissing each other in the rain, a scene that would remain something you’d download and revisit many, many times when you were locked away in your room.
You’d never seen that level of lust before. You’d never felt it directed towards you or ever even experienced it when you discovered porn in your teenage years. Yet, these two people seemed to want each other on a whole other level, risking everything— their home, their reputation, their love— for something you’d always thought would be over in two minutes. And as your hand undid the button of your jeans and slipped down even lower, you realized just how wrong you were.
In the years that followed, you learned to become so much more comfortable with your sexuality. Hell, you have a drawer dedicated to storing your sex toys and on nights that you’d had too many glasses of wine, you wind up writing filthy erotica just for fun. However, you’d never actually considered having sex outside of a committed relationship, not until now. And in complete honesty, you really are curious about if Han Jisung is as subby as Yeonjun insinuated— if that proves to be true, you wouldn’t mind taking your pent-up Jisung-frustrations out on him. Productivity, and all. 
You slap your payment down on the wooden counter, shaking it slightly, before marching towards Han Jisung’s table. 
“Hey,” you start, but Han Jisung doesn’t notice you. “HEY!”
Han Jisung’s eyes fly open as he jerks in his seat and pulls off his headphones. At the sight of you approaching him so determinedly, he eyes you with both wariness and renewed interest, and you have to keep yourself from sighing exasperatedly at his hesitant desperation. You’re here for a reason, after all.
“Oh, hello. Y/N, right? I asked Hyunjin for your name after you left.” He gives you a nervous smile, brushing the bangs off of his forehead. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say—”
“I’ll get to the point, Han Jisung.” You cut him off, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. It’s like he’s never in his life encountered a woman who knows what the hell she wants. “I want to have sex with you. What do you say?”
For a good minute, he says nothing, just gaping at you, shocked. And then he does a double-take, looking you up and down as if checking to see if you’re real. 
“Is this a ploy to kidnap me and steal my organs, or something? Because when I last saw you, I got the impression that you severely disliked me.”
“No, I’m not going to steal your organs. The truth is complicated,” you scoff. “But you’re hot, and I’m over everything else, at least for tonight. Are you up for it?” 
You stare Han Jisung down, making him shift in his seat. He scratches his nose and blinks at you like a trembling mouse. “I… wait. You think I’m hot?”
What an idiot. Good thing he’s pretty.
“Is that a yes?”
“Fuck yes.”
With no warning at all, you grasp his hand, pulling him out of the booth while he scrambles to grab his belongings and shove them into his pockets. You feel his gaze on the back of your neck as you drag him through the bar, walking with your chin pointed up with purpose. You wind your way between the tables expertly, but this Jisung stumbles, making you glare at him over your shoulder.
“Watch your step,” you snap.
“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at the floor as you barge into the bathroom in the back of the building, tugging him inside with you. “Wait, are we not going to your place, or—”
“Stop asking so many fucking questions, Han Jisung.” You slam the door behind you both and click the metal latch in place, leaving you both locked in the tiny room. It isn’t so cramped that there isn’t any space for movement, but it’s small enough to force you both into facing each other in a charged silence.
You eye Jisung from head to toe, taking in his baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. He clears his throat, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “So, um, do you really have to call me by full name? Don’t you think that’s a little formal, considering what’s about to happen?”
You roll your eyes, your mind going back to the other Jisung you know. Never— there must be something to differentiate the two. You take an intimidatingly emphasized step towards him, backing him up against the wall. “No. I don’t think that’s too formal, Han Jisung.”
“But—”
“Shut the fuck up.” You trace your eyes down his body once more, gaze landing on the noticeable bulge in his pants. Bless Yeonjun— how right he was, for once. You look up, giving Jisung a mean smile. “Are you actually getting turned on right now?”
“Uh, wow—” He squeaks, as you reach your hand out and place it on his warm thigh, tracing it up his limb at a painful pace both dedicated to your desire to tease and be cautious.
“I asked you a fucking question.” You retract your hand right before it reaches its destination, glowering at him. “Answer me.”
“Just, um. I…” Jisung stammers, closing his eyes before opening them again, as if preparing himself. The honeyed tone of his skin exposes a light blush and therefore, his answer. “Ruin me, please.”
That’s all the permission you need before you’re placing your hands on Jisung’s surprisingly toned shoulders, roughly turning him around and swapping places with him, so that now you’re the one with their back to the wall. 
“Han Jisung…” You speak slowly, punctuating your words with the kind of loathing that has Jisung panting like a dog waiting for a treat, eyes wide with anticipation tinged with delicious fear. “If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, I’ll see about giving you a reward.”
“Oh my god.”
“Take off your clothes.” 
Jisung nearly trips over his own two feet trying to wrestle the suddenly irksome swaths of fabric off of his body, tossing the garments onto the gross bathroom floor like he doesn’t give a fuck about getting a staph infection later. When he’s fully stripped, you trace your eyes over him in your own leisure, reveling in the way he shivers when you do. Your gaze washes over his defined abs, dipping even lower until you reach his hardened cock, flushed a pretty pink and glazed with pre-come— the condoms would come in very handy, after all.
Seeing him bared to you and your mercy rouses you up like you never thought it would; you never thought that feeling wanted yet being in control would work you up so much, but it does, and you love it beyond reason. 
“You’re really something else. Getting off on me being so mean to you.” With a sadistic smirk, you cross your arms. “I bet you thought about me even after I ditched your ass at the party, didn’t you?”
“I— I did,” he admits, with a nervous giggle. “You’re so fucking hot, I just couldn’t help it. Seriously. I’m sorry if— mmph.”
You interrupt his rambling by winding your hand into his soft hair and forcing him closer to you, meeting his soft lips in a harsh kiss, one that has him moaning shamelessly into your mouth. You kiss him deeply, like you want to punish him for it, like you want to both hurt him and make him beg for more. Jisung’s lips are small but full, moving against yours in a sloppy yet heated exchange, fighting for more in an unwinnable battle; he tastes like brandy, strawberries, and the promises of a good time, and you’re drunk on it.
“You’re disgusting, Han Jisung,” you spit out, prompting a whimper from Jisung. “Get on your fucking knees.”
He wastes no time dropping to his knees and letting you lead the way, fully submitting to your tantric commands. Quickly, you clutch at his hands and direct them to where they should be, tilting your head back against the wall as Jisung satisfies your wishes. With an eagerness that doesn’t even compare to your own, Jisung loosens the knot on the elastic band of your skirt, not bothering to untie it fully before he’s tugging the skirt up so that it’s bunched around your waist. 
And without you even demanding him to move faster, he’s pushing your panties aside and attaching his greedy mouth to your cunt. You nearly jerk away at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure; your ex-boyfriend never went down on you, and oh, how profoundly you’ve missed out. But you’ve researched enough to know exactly what you want.
Jisung’s eyes flick up to where you’re looking down and showering him with breathy sighs, spurring on his performance. When you shoot him a warning glare, he goes back to completely making-out with your cunt, easily spreading you apart with two of his fingers so he can focus on your throbbing clit. Jisung uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh gently, rubbing circles into the smooth skin as he works.
He delves deeper into your pussy when you run your hands through his silky hair, lapping at your arousal like it’s honey and he’s been starving for days. “You taste so good…”
Immediately, you yank back his hair and hold him in place as you start to grind onto his pretty face. “I don’t remember saying you could fucking talk.”
Jisung groans, taking every insult you hurl at him in such a measured but unbridled way. He makes up for his lack in precision with his enthusiasm, suctioning his mouth around your tender clit and swirling his tongue in patterns that have gotten you seeing the fucking stars. He lets you use him entirely, body going slack as he helps you ride out your high. The obscene sounds of Jisung slurping at your cunt fill the room as you come, gripping his head between your thighs as you feel that beautiful wave of euphoria fall over you. You pat Jisung’s shoulder in silent instruction, and he rises, cupping the sides of your arms and running his hands down them gently, soothing the way you quiver at any touch. 
“Are you okay?” Jisung whispers, making you open your eyes in surprise. Your ex-boyfriend never once checked up on you, not even when you were clearly in discomfort that first time he made you his own. This complete stranger however, one that you have been anything but gracious with, inspects your face with concern. A strange feeling of warmth spreads throughout your body as you nod your head.
“I’m good. You did well.” You grasp the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head so that all you’re standing in now are your skirt and basically ruined panties. You didn’t bother with putting on a bra before you left the house, and now, you’re thankful for the decision that was ultimately a byproduct of your laziness; Jisung gazes at your body with utter reverence, like just the sight of your tits has blessed his entire life.
“Please…”
“Please what, Han Jisung?” You bite your lip, both amused and flattered by how desperate he is for your pussy. “Use your words.”
“Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Jisung whines sadly, clearly on the verge of tears. His cock is now rock-hard, flush against his stomach, and it turns you on so much to know that eating you out has reduced him to such a pathetic mess. 
“Yes, you have…” you murmur, before jutting out your hand to hold his chin tightly. “Spit.”
Without a single protest, he obeys, a single string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand, before you’re reaching down and palming his cock. He lets out a gasp as you wrap your fingers around the base, spreading the dampness and pumping a few times for good measure, as if the mixture of his spit and your own arousal coating your pussy isn’t lubrication enough. 
You take the condoms out and help Jisung slide one onto his cock, chuckling when he places his hand over yours to help quicken the process. And then you’re finally guiding him into your entrance, circling one leg around his body and caging him into your fantasies. 
“Fuck—”
Jisung enters you as you both collectively moan out loud, him at how tightly your cunt clenches around him and you at how wonderfully his dick curves into you, hitting your sweet spot inside each time. Jisung cups your face as he kisses you again, but this time, it’s slower and more drawn-out, a vast juxtaposition to how rigorously he thrusts into you. You drag your nails down his back in a way that’s sure to leave marks for days to come, but he just increases his pace on your aching pussy, lost in pleasure. 
You grip Jisung’s ass and squeeze at the flesh, eliciting a throaty groan from him as your sweat combined creates a sticky layer between your bodies. Your breasts are pressed against Jisung’s chest, and he ducks his head to attend to them, licking and sucking at your sensitive nipples. The heightened attention goes straight to your sweet pussy, making you buck your hips as you hold him even tighter. 
“Oh god— I’m fucking— I’m gonna come—” Jisung chokes out, his movements now erratic and even more rushed, if possible.
“Not yet.” You just laugh cruelly, shaking your head. “You’re going to wait. I’m first.”
“I— I don’t think I can—”
“Suck it up like the little bitch you are, and make me come again,” you snarl, digging your nails into the arch of his ass.
He cries out, and for a brief lapse in time, you think he will not be able to outlast you, but then he slides his hand down, rubbing frantic circles onto your clit. The attempt to get you off a second time works, and the orgasm washes over you like a cool breeze in the summertime. You can’t help what escapes you next.
“HYUNJIN!”
“Did you just—”
You clench your jaw and give Jisung a menacing look, warning him of a topic that should not be broached under any circumstances. Luckily, your harsh expression just seems to spur Jisung on even more, and he follows you into ecstasy not long after, squirming in your hold. When he finally finishes, hot spurts of him coat your pussy and trembling thighs.
For a moment, Jisung slumps against you limply, and you let him, enjoying that blanket of heat and protection against your exposed skin, another gift you’ve never been given before. But then you remember that’s all he is to you— a body that has warmed you up for one night. You don’t feel guilty though, because you never did offer more than you could actually give. 
You pat Jisung’s back, prompting him to draw back and give you a fucked-smile. His bangs are plastered against his forehead in a sweaty mess, and his skin is tinged pink from his great efforts to please you. It’s a sight that you’ll be tucking away in your memories for any future lonely nights. 
After putting your blouse back on, you walk over to the sink as Jisung just stays leaning against the wall. Wetting a paper towel with some water, you run it between your thighs and clean up the remnants of Jisung’s come smeared there. And then you pull your skirt down and help Jisung, because no matter how you don’t see him as more than a fling, he is still significant to you. He’s the first person to make you come and show you that physical care that you’ve been craving for so long, and that amounts to something. Besides, you’d never just toss someone aside after using them so intimately, not like your ex did with you.
You get a fresh towel for Jisung, placing it against his forehead to cool his heated skin while assisting him in putting his clothes back on. When you both are completely dressed, you place a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips and give him a small smile, before turning for the door.
“I’ll be on my way now, Han Jisung.”
Jisung leaps forward quickly, grabbing your head before it can reach the doorknob. “Hey, I know you said this was just a one-night, but can’t we maybe get dinner or something?”
“Jisung.” The plain name is still sour on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “We aren’t going to work. This isn’t going to happen again.”
“Wait. Are you just, like, crazy edging me right now?”
Shaking your head, you let out a tired laugh. “No, I’m not. Look, I think you’re a really nice guy. I’m sorry for how I treated you at the party last week. You definitely didn’t deserve that, and I definitely still need to resolve my own issues. I’m sure there’s some other sexy lady out there just waiting to dom your pretty face off. You deserve better than me.”
You leave Jisung speechless, finally getting out of the bathroom. You have a very important meeting tomorrow, one that you absolutely cannot miss. Besides, he really does deserve better than you, someone who definitely doesn’t make his whole life an enigma. Someone who doesn’t have the same impact on him as Hyunjin does on you. 
And in your post-coital clarity, you also finally accept that there will be no compromising with your feelings for Hyunjin. You’re falling in love with him, so much that even when another man is balls-deep in you, he’s all you can think of. It’s so profound that it hurts, the thought of never being able to fuck him into oblivion like you just did with Han Jisung. You can never have those nights with him in dirty bathrooms, or the ones tangled up in bedsheets for hours at an end. Late night conversations about the banalities of life and playful interviews about where he buys his amazing clothing will never be yours. You’re playing a dangerous game, ignoring your feelings like they’re a hazy insect that will eventually buzz away. Because you know they won’t. They’ll come back to sting you.
As you beeline for the bar exit, you run straight into Yeonjun, who seems to have been waiting for you all along. And by the looks of the Cheshire grin on his face, he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.
“I knew his dick was big.”
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
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“So… want to talk about last week?”
“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug, toying with the hem of your dress. It’s green, a new look from the various shades of pinks that you donned whenever visiting Hyunjin. The change doesn’t feel refreshing— really, it’s restricting and strange, somehow. Like it doesn’t belong on you.
Hyunjin sighs, getting up from his fancy chair to sit down next to you. So understanding, so caring, so gentle. Everything you don’t deserve and that you will never have. “Darling, please. Open up to me.”
You snap, looking at him directly. “I had sex with Han Jisung.”
Closing your eyes, you lift your up palm, effectively silencing whatever you know that Hyunjin was about to say. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. You have to mend the cracks before you break completely. Again. It’s now or never, no matter how much it will hurt you to do so.
“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”
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«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
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AUTHOR'S NOTE Here she is!! We're 2/5 of the way there 💪 Thank you for all of the love for this series! And again, I apologize for the atrocious wait-time. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t really mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy
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TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***
If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!
NETWORKS @kflixnet @k-films
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©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.
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violetpixiedust · 1 year ago
Text
based on this sinful gif set of joe keery ౨ৎ
making out with older!businessman!steve in his study, straddling his lap as he sits atop his herman miller chair, the mahogany door to the cozy room is locked shut. his facial hair is slightly grown out, longer than usual. dusting across the mature angles of his jaw and upper lip like flecks of bronze and gold, illuminated by the amber light of the emerald desk lamp. you giggle softly as the coarse hairs tickle you when he nuzzles the angled bridge of his sun-kissed nose against the perfume scented crook of your neck, large hands splayed behind your back as he pushes you closer to him. the gritty scent of tobacco and aged whisky envelopes you as he sighs hungrily, intoxicated, before his pearly teeth sink into the silky skin of your racing pulse point. he had been imaging the delicious jump of your heartbeat between his canines all throughout the charity gala he had hosted earlier that night- before he came home to you. all throughout his speeches, various introductions, countless firm hand shakes, one too many toasting’s of champagne. a soprano gasp tears through your bared throat, manicured fingers running up the rogue buttons of his patterned dress shirt, before meeting the smattering of curly chest hair from where it peaks out between his wide open collar, decorated with a gold chain that glints with every breath he takes. steve’s raspy grunt echoes between you two as your acrylic nails rake between the long, glossy strands of his chestnut / silver hair, scratching his scalp idly before playfully tugging on the thick roots at the nape of his neck. his large, calloused hands reach below your pleated skirt, squeezing the petal soft skin of your behind that escapes from the lacy panties you were gifted last week, relishing in your responsive squirm. steve had bought them for you while he was away on business, along with another twenty pieces just like it. baby pink and handmade in italy. you moan melodically, and steve swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. beating the endless symphonies he’s had to sit through in his fourty-five years around the sun by a landslide. his muscled forearms are on display, sleeves rolled up below wrinkled elbows. the bracelet he had gifted you for your most recent birthday, a delicate 14k gold piece encrusted with your birthstone, meets the genuine leather strap of his classic cartier watch as he lifts your hand in his, placing a firm kiss to the pulse of your wrist. a searing gentleness. a trembling moan escapes your strawberry chapstick coated lips as one of his long pointer fingers outlines the expensive panty hem that showcases the delightful curve of your bum, tracing the line all the way down to where it hugs just outside of your trembling mound. his slightly chapped lips pull up into a wicked smirk, before they smother your sweet sounds in a bruising kiss. the elder man unconsciously rolls his starchy dress pant covered crotch against your ever slicking heat, almond toned eyes practically rolling back into his skull at the delicious friction. your tongues meet. the tangy taste of lavender honey that emits from your mouth prompts him to sigh longingly, his wedding ring cold against your cheek as his left hand cups your angelic face. you languidly pull away from his dominating lips, a trail of saliva connecting you two as steve moans breathily at the sultry sight, attempting to torturously roll his hips up into yours once more. your plush pout forms a perfect ‘o’ shape much to his carnal longing, letting the soft wetness of your tongue brush the underside of his ring finger, before you enclose your mouth around the thick digit skillfully. you watch with glazed doe eyes as the almond ring of steve’s iris’s disappear within the blown ink of his pupils at your sinful actions. with a sharp ‘pop’ the gold band comes loose, sliding up his finger with the tight force of your warm little mouth, dizzying him with desire as you carelessly drop the offending piece of jewellery atop the imported carpet below you two. forgotten for now. you were only the babysitter after all… :)
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