#friend = late stage alcoholic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaslayer · 11 months ago

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crimson (cs) | one shot.

—summary: life has always revolved around the club, the money, the clients— that is, until a first-time experience changes everything for san, for you; causing lines to be blurred, boundaries that are crossed. he didn’t think he’d get wrapped around your finger, falling deep into your spell. after all, he did become your number one client.

—pairing: choi san x stripper!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, nightclub au | smut, angst

—word count: 21.8k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language, heavy on the night club/strip club setting, lap dances, oc doesn’t remove her clothing by choice but is a little more hands on with her clients at the club, alcohol consumption/intoxication, san’s got some baggage with his ex, mentions of a toxic past relationship, mentions of severed relationships with loved ones, protected/unprotected sex, praising, making out, one shower together hehe, missionary, doggy style wooof, cowgirl, sprinkle of spit play, clit play, breast play, mentions of marking, ass slapping, mentions of men getting touchy at the club, fighting (some pushing and a few punches), arguments, flashback scenes, not all ateez members are present - only mingi, san, wooyoung, hongjoong and jongho

—on rotation: agora hills - doja cat | anywhere - 112 | all night long - thuy & lil kev | IT’s you - wooyoung, san & yeosang

He became your number one client.

Quick.

You remember the first time he stepped into the club with his friends, eyes roaming the floor until they landed on yours. You hadn’t expected the group to walk in when they did— the club being pretty dead lately, with the usual, familiar men walking in to let off some steam, to get their fix. You could tell it was the first time they’d ever walked into a strip club with the way they paused near the entrance, not really knowing where to go or how to get settled from there. One of his friends took the lead and walked towards the main stage, his hesitancy obvious with how stiff and awkward he was as he sat on one of the velvet chairs closest to the stage. You hadn’t really paid much mind to them at first, especially him. You had been busy on the other end of the stage, but his eyes had been glued on you the entire time.

That solely piqued your interest.

He sunk into the chair comfortably, manspreading as his hands rested on his legs. He stared at you with his cat-like eyes, almost pleading for you to come closer and entertain him while his friends were busy tossing bills at your coworker on the right side of the stage.

He didn’t budge.

You strutted over, initially planning to tease him a bit; play around, work with his ways to give him something to remember. Little did you know that taking the first leap, giving him that attention, was going to change everything between you and this stranger.

Everything.

▹ FLASHBACK

You step in front of the pole, sliding down until you get to a crouch– making sure your legs are spread enough for him to see the itty bitty fabric from your bodysuit barely covering your parts. You can see him subtly bite onto his bottom lip as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You get a little closer, getting onto your knees to crawl towards him; ass posted up in the air while you keep your eyes glued onto him. You’re close enough to the point where he can slip a few dollars into the v-neck of your bodysuit.

And he does, adorning that pretty smirk of his; pearly whites peeking through those pink, plump lips.

“Atta boy!” You hear one of his friends yell. “San’s finally enjoying himself!”

“Dude’s got heart eyes. Look at him. Mesmerized as shit.” Another of his friends laughs before continuing to shower the right side of the stage with bills.

San was his name.

San.

“Gorgeous.” You hear him mutter as you continue to work the stage, eyes glued onto him with every move— every twirl, every dip, every roll, you make. His eyes are taking note of every detail, every tattoo that lines your arm, down to your hip and thigh. Because he wants to study you, all of you.

“It’s his birthday, give him something special!” You glide down the pole before stepping off the stage to greet the men sitting around. It was a normal routine for you, a way to initiate flirty conversations and take men back to a VIP booth for lap dances— lap dances that could easily earn you rent in one night.

A few of your regulars are sitting around, waiting for some kind of touch, attention. Which, you easily give through running your hand down their chests, whispering sweet nothings as they tuck a few more dollars under your bodysuit.

Throughout all of this, San is still focused on you.

So, you make your way back to him; his friends are still loudly proclaiming he’s the birthday boy that needs a little gift tonight. And lucky for him, you’re feeling rather generous— especially with the way San buckles around you, pleading, begging, for more of your attention since he walked through the door.

“Is it really your birthday?” You crouch in front of him, hands traveling up his thighs while you lick your lips and bite onto your bottom lip.

“Yeah, it is.” He swallows the lump in his throat when your hands brush against his belt.

“Please give him a private dance.” The same friend from earlier says. He has short black hair with a mole underneath his eye, black button-up exposing his honey skin underneath. He slips you a few hundred bills, a smirk plastered on his face when you meet his gaze. You gladly take the money and stuff it into your bodysuit, grabbing San’s hand as you lead him to the VIP area.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You come to a strip club on your birthday and try to deny a lap dance? That your friend paid for? Odd.” You tease as you push him against another velvet couch. The VIP booths are off to the side of the club, with red mood lights and cringy, dark red velvet curtains draping the front to provide privacy. The booths are small, intimate; just enough space for you to work the pole and be all up on San.

“I mean, I just—” He chokes on his words as he plops onto the couch. “You’re a busy woman, it seems.”

“I am.” You straddle his lap. “But, I can make time for birthday boys, too.”

“That’s nice to know.” His eyes carefully watch your every move. Your hands travel down his neck, down to his tie— tugging on it as you start to bodyroll against the music, against him, making sure San feels you. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. You watch as he reaches, but prevents himself from touching your thighs; afraid he’d be crossing a line even though, technically speaking, those lines have been blurred since he walked into the club.

“It’s okay, San.” You reassure him with a whisper, lips almost grazing his ear. His eyes meet yours just as you pull back and bounce on him a bit, hands caressing up and down his chest. You continue to work him slowly, taking your sweet time to make San feel appreciated, to make San feel like he’s had the best birthday in years.

“You know my name?” He says, hands comfortably coming up your body, giving your breasts a squeeze. His hand runs up your neck, to your jaw— gently forcing you to keep eye contact with him as you continue to dance on him. He’s entranced by you that he doesn’t really know what else to say, or how to react. But god, do you feel amazing on him. That body, too?

Heavenly.

“Your friends have been yelling it all night.” You stand and straddle him in the opposite direction, legs wrapped around his torso as you lean forward and bounce on his dick a little more. San can’t help but run his hands down your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you come back up and pry yourself off of him to head to the pole in front of him.

“Fair enough. What’s your name then, beautiful?” You look at him, ignoring the question at first. But, San feels a little different than your usual customers, feels a bit more personal even though you don’t know anything about him nor does he know anything about you. It’s the way that he looks at you, focused on your face, your every move. It’s the way that it’s a room full of dancers and he’s stuck on you. Most men are in the club to fill a void; seeking for quick satisfaction, something that’ll eventually blow over until the next visit. But, it’s nothing more than that. You are nothing more than a dancer, nothing more than a face on stage— someone who collects their bills and runs.

But to San, you feel different.

Before you look into him too deeply, you quickly snap out of it and begin to twirl around the pole, doing your usual pole routine when you’re in the VIP booth. You fall into a split, hand coming down from the pole, down to your body.

San follows.

“My name?” You repeat, and San nods.

“Is that not a normal question here?”

“No one ever gives out their real names here.” You chuckle.

“Then, what’s your stage name?” Time passes when you’re dancing. Usually, you give them 30 mins tops, 45 mins if they keep sending big bills your way. But, you never try to spend more than that with the same person. Not in this community. With the hundreds San’s friend handed you, you would’ve stopped at 15 minutes if this were anyone else.

You’re closing in 20– probably will be 30 when you blink— but you don’t really wanna stop giving San this attention. He’s attractive, fitting his button-up and slacks in all the right places. He has black short hair, a few strands draping over his forehead, a pretty Rolex sitting on his wrist. You think he could handle you if you gave him the chance, and the thought is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“Crimson.” He smirks, running his finger across his bottom lip while he continues to watch you bounce your ass on the stage. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on— the bodysuit doing your body wonders as it makes his mind wander to the unknown.

To what you would look like naked, to have you underneath him, to have you calling his name.

He’s been glued to you from the start and he’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

“Crimson.” He repeats, the stage name dripping off his tongue like water. “Are you here every night?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You twirl with a smirk on your face.

“Come on, don’t do that.” He leans back, head resting against the couch as his hands rest on his thighs.

“Why would it matter?”

“I wouldn’t wanna come back if you weren’t here.” You giggle, stepping away from the pole and slotting yourself back in between his legs at a crouch.

“There’s plenty of other amazing dancers, you know? I don’t make the club.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But, it’s not them I’m asking about.” Your hands travel back up his legs, your face inches away from his dick. You swear you hear him hiss a bit the minute your face glides over, planting small, chaste kisses against his clothed stomach right above the belt.

“I’m here 4 days a week.”

“What days?” You stand, bending to whisper in his ear. His hand comes up to graze your thigh and hip, shivers shooting down his spine when you respond with:

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” Because now, San takes it as a challenge and he’s determined to figure out which nights you’re here. Initially, he agreed to this whole thing thinking it’d be a one-and-done— a birthday done differently after all these past years only to become an after-thought as time goes on. But now, he wants more of you, all of you; wants to keep seeing you, feeling you, touching you, seeing you dance for him and him only.

He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

You look at him once more, tipping his chin with your finger before dipping forward. You only give him enough so that the tips of your noses brush against each other, enough to tease but not please the birthday boy on his special night.

“See you soon, Sannie. Happy birthday.” You whisper before turning on your heels and leaving him in the VIP booth to return to the stage. San has to gather himself for a minute, loosening the buttons on his shirt and his tie and adjusting his pants before heading back out to his friends.

“So?! How was it?” Wooyoung leans over on the chair right after he greets another dancer making her rounds across the floor.

“Good.”

“He’s red in the face.” Mingi laughs. “It was more than good.”

“Say thank you for the best birthday ever, Wooyoung.” Wooyoung teases and San can’t help but shake his head. He’s still lost in thought, eyes subtly scanning the room to find you but you are busy taking new customers into the VIP booth. The room feels hot, and he wishes he could be in the VIP booth with you, alone. He truly wished it never ended. “Let’s head to the bar and get more drinks.” San shrugs and follows along, the 4 of them heading into the bar where the music is louder, and other dancers are flooding the area.

As the night goes on, you’ve finished tending to your regulars— already knowing what they want, what they need, but making your boundaries clear every time they try to step over the line and take advantage of your generosity tonight. By the end of your shift, it’s 3am and you’re exhausted. Your feet are hurting from the platform heels you’re sporting. It’s crazy how after all this time as a dancer, you still aren’t used to the heels you have to throw on, excited to dip your feet in a hot, lavender foot bath when you get home. You change back into your casual sweats and matching hoodie, throwing the hood over your head as you bid farewell to your coworkers and step out the back door into the cold, crisp night. When you cross the alley to get onto the main road, there are a few gentlemen standing around, some smoking their cigarettes while chatting with their friends.

Usually, no one causes you trouble. From time to time, your usuals are drunk and babbling nonsense about how they wish they could take you home, show you ‘a new world.’ But, no one ever gets handsy, no one ever forces themselves on you. For the most part, they know what this is, they know at the end of the night this is nothing but a temporary fantasy— one you fulfill for a specific time frame before the new day dawns and things go back to normal, to routine.

Tonight, it’s a bit different.

“Yo, isn’t that the dancer?” You hear a familiar voice as you cross through the alley, passing by a big group on your way. They seem to be tending to a friend who has gotten sloppily drunk, yacking their brains out off to the side of the club.

“Aye cutie, going home already? Wanna give the birthday boy more love?” Another friend questions after he pulls the cigarette from in between his lips and exhales. “Bro, Mingi. Hurry up and get your sloppy ass together. It’s fucking cold.” He scolds their incredibly drunk friend afterwards.

“Hongjoong.” You hear San call for his friend. You do nothing but give them a simple look as you continue to walk on, trying not to feed them any attention. As attractive as San is, you are too tired to deal with this right now. After all, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“What, it’s a simple question. You never know, she might be down.”

“Sorry.” San apologizes on his behalf, his eyes red and glazed from the alcohol.

“Not down?” Hongjoong asks again, his eyes now glued onto you.

“No, I’m not.” You respond, walking backwards to maintain eye contact.

“Aw, why not?” Honey-skin with the black-button up chimes in. “He’s single. He could use it.”

“The fuck? Not helping.” San looks at his friend and taps him on the chest, making him bust out into a loud laugh.

“I don’t do that. Nothing beyond the club. Sorry to disappoint.” You smile at them before walking off onto the main street.

“Can he at least escort you home?!” They call out as you cross the street, making you roll your eyes as you continue the journey home all by yourself.

▹ END

Since then, there’s been a new addition to your regulars. One particularly more intriguing than the rest. You didn’t really believe Mia when she told you the familiar face came on your days off, asking the bartender if you were dancing tonight. He came, and he came, until he figured out the exact 4 days you worked. To say you were surprised would be an understatement because why on earth was San actually looking for you?

Why was he actually trying to figure out your schedule?

Did he really want to see you, or were you just his favorite dancer? Was he too shy to get close to the other dancers [at a strip club]?

It’s been a couple of weeks and San still comes. But, you’ve pushed the questions to the back of your mind; taking his visits with a grain of salt. You weren’t sure you’d pry anyway, afraid you’d be reading into this too much. After all, you are just a dancer.

What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“Babe, your man is here.” Mia peeks into the dressing room, her head popping in from the doorway.

“He is not my man.” You give her a look, but she giggles and smirks before turning.

“Hurry that ass up, he seems anxious.” She calls out just before she heads back out to the main floor. You roll your eyes, dabbing more lip gloss on your lips before heading back out onto the floor. As promised, San sits in that same chair you met him during his first night at the club while Wooyoung [you’ve come to learn] lingers near the stage. Wooyoung is already entertaining another dancer, taking every opportunity to slip a few bills underneath her bikini top.

To tease San a bit, you come up from behind up, trailing your hands down his chest while your lips ghost his ear. He turns slightly just for some sort of confirmation, though he’s already studied your body— down to the way you move, the way you tease.

“San.” You call his name. “Should I still be surprised that you’re here again?”

“You tell me.” He smirks, that pretty smile of his slowly becoming a weakness for you. “I’m just here to get my fix.” He winks, even though he really just wants to see you and be alone with you again.

“Get in line.” You tease. San immediately holds up a few bills, eyes darting from yours to your cleavage in that incredibly tiny silver bikini top you have on.

“Should I?” He subtly bites onto his bottom lip as he slips the money right into your top. You playfully roll your eyes and lead the way to a VIP booth, San undoing his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves just about halfway up his forearm. Truthfully, yes, it’s been a long day [week, even] and he’s needing a release; wanting to let out some steam. But, he’s also excited he could do that with you and only you. He watches your hips sway as you walk and wait for him to enter the booth, shutting the curtain close so that it’s just you and him underneath the red mood lighting.

You step onto the stage; twirling around the pole before you bounce your ass on the stage. San watches intently, eyes glued to your bottom half when you spread your legs and show him how much those bottoms aren’t doing shit for you.

He is so, so curious.

He takes note of every detail of your body, studying it over and over again like a book. And god, he wants to do everything and nothing all at once— stuck between wanting to get his hands all over you and doing nothing just to admire your pretty face, your figure. San felt like maybe this was just a phase, a new, exciting experience in his life that’ll soon fizzle out.

But when San looks at you, he can’t agree. He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

He leans back onto the couch, his head resting against the edge as he manspreads. He licks his lips while watching your hands travel down your chest, your stomach.

“Why are you so far?” He questions, motioning for you to come closer. Your bikini top and bottom are still driving him crazy, and he’s certain he’ll lose his shit once you sit on his lap.

“So eager tonight?”

“Just been a rough week.”

“I’m sure, as with everyone else here.”

“Am I just everyone else?” You let out a small chuckle, straddling his lap. His hands immediately come up to cup your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you start to work your hips on him. He’s gotten pretty comfortable by now, though San still shoots you a look as if it’s his way of asking for permission first. You appreciate the little things, and San most definitely isn’t just like everyone else. But, as with any defense mechanism, you resort to a guarded response:

“I mean, you’re here at ungodly hours tipping girls for a dance.” He lets out a small laugh, strong hands now at your hips.

“Mm, I really only come for my favorite though. You might know her?” He jokes, his face only inches away from yours.

“Do I?” You follow along with his teasing. The strap to your bikini top falls off your shoulder and San’s eyes follow; the small room feeling 10 degrees hotter, pants a little tighter.

“Mhm.” He hums, his finger tracing a line up your leg. “She has tattoos just like this lining her thigh—“ He moves it up to your hip. “Up her hip.” His thumb comes up to your lip. “Pretty lips just like that. Long lashes. Prettiest smile I’ve seen.” His face moves towards your neck, lips grazing the surface below your ear. “Mole on the neck.” You subtly bite onto your bottom lip. San’s hand brushes up against your breast before he touches the small mole on your neck.

“Sounds like a lot of the girls around here.”

“Mm, but the one I’m thinking of goes by the stage name Crimson.” You continue to tease, bounce on him a little more, shake ass a little more. Your eyes linger on him a bit longer than you’d like, and you find yourself retracting. To him, the room is probably degrees hotter— for you, it’s starting to feel suffocating.

“She’s nothing but a ‘lil dancer, San.” You whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the surface before you hop off his lap. San is a little confused at the sudden change, but you feel like you’re reading too much into this, too much into San.

This isn’t supposed to be anything but business.

Why would San ever want you in that way? Most of this is to fulfill a want, a need, a fantasy. San is most likely saying this to get what he wants, to take charge and lead you on.

Though, at the end of the night, you are nothing but a face, a dancer. He wouldn’t think about you past the club. That is where this ends, regardless.

You give San one last look before you brush past the curtain, returning to the stage closest to the bar. Wooyoung is getting dragged to a VIP booth, his other friends now standing and gathering around the stage to get up close and personal to the girls currently on there. You make a beeline to the stage near the bar, the area being a little more dead than the main stage room.

Right before you hop on stage, Mia is delivering drinks to a few men off to the side of the room. She shoots you a look, following after handing over the drinks.

“Why are you rushing? Did something happen?” You wait for the bartender to hand you some water.

“Nothing happened.” You sip a bit to shake off your thoughts, your feelings.

“You sure? I’ll beat someone’s ass if you need me to and call security to toss them out.”

“I promise.” You look at her and squeeze her arm. “I’m just gonna stick here for the rest of the night, though. Need a change of pace.” She nods.

“Alright, if you say so. I’m still onto you.” She says, leaving you to help the bartender with delivering the drinks.

For the rest of the night, you continue to dodge San and his friends until the end of your shift. You don’t usually leave through the front doors of the club, but tonight, you sneak out and rush across the street with your hood up. You can hear San and his friends as they leave, causing you to pick up the pace of your steps— hoping you’ll avoid being caught.

But, San sees you, anyway. His eyes can’t help but watch for a few seconds more before he’s returning his attention back to the boys. He felt the shift earlier, and he picked up on the way you continued to hop from stage to stage— seemingly avoiding their group. He’s not sure what happened, or why he feels like you’ve suddenly got your guard back up around him. It’s something about you, and San knows it shouldn’t be that serious. This became a fun little past-time for him and his boys. But every time he’s left the club recently, he leaves a little bit more attached to you.

Because yes, you know how to work your magic in there. It’s no fucking joke. He gets a taste of you on stage, in the booth, and it blows his mind. But other than that, it’s the way you return the same look, the same touch. There’s something else, more to you than the surface, and he’s curious to find out.

It shouldn’t be that serious, but for San, it is.

“What’s wrong?” Jongho pushes a small coffee your way, cocking a brow when he sees how checked out you seem today.

“W-what?” You look at him, finally pulled out of your daze. “Oh, nothing.” You grab the cup and take a sip, giving him a tiny toothless smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He sets his coffee onto the side of the cart, helping you unbox a few albums that arrived today and needed to be restocked on the shelves. “So, really. What is it?” He asks, eyes still focused on restocking. Jongho has been one of your closest friends— probably the only closest, genuine friend that stuck by your side since you were younger. He still keeps in touch with the group you grew up with since middle school, but lots of those relationships have been severed after you started dancing at the club. Jongho was the only one who didn’t see you any differently, nor did he take the job as anything bad. He always knew you were passionate about dance and he understood you when times got tough; strapped on cash and needing a quick fix that would help you get by. It was a bit of a risky, somewhat dangerous step, but who was Jongho to control your life? You already didn’t have a great relationship with your parents, so the least Jongho can do is support you and be your pillar if no one else would be. He knew you could make your own decisions, and only you knew yourself best. He knew you’d take care of yourself, whatever that looked like.

Jongho was the manager at this small, quaint music shop in the city. Though, the city you lived in wasn’t entirely huge compared to others. It still had its old-school touch of wooden, soft decor with a rage of vintage to mainstream albums and art throughout the shop. The owner was a middle-aged man who used to play in a band back in the days, now retired and trying to stay in touch with his roots through the shop. Jongho had worked here for years before stepping into the full-time manager position and helped bring you on, especially during the time you needed it the most.

You really appreciate Jongho, and you’re glad you at least have him.

“Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve just finished school.”

“You did. High school?”

“College.” Jongho shrugs when you respond and give him a look.

“If it wasn’t what you wanted to do at the time, then why force yourself? Besides, it’s never too late. You can always go back to school.” He turns to you and places a hand on his hip. “Why are you thinking about this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t really know. What if they were right? What if I’m not good for anything besides being a stripper? What if I’m just that?”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Jongho tosses the empty box aside, triggering you to get it together and start doing your job. “You’re smart, talented, and passionate about a lot of things. Especially dance. Just because you work at a club doesn’t make you less of a person, Y/N.” He says in that usual serious tone of his.

“Thanks.” You poke your bottom lip out as you arrange the albums and start tagging the price stickers onto them.

“Who is it?” You sigh, already knowing Jongho won’t leave it alone until you finally tell him the truth about why you’re suddenly questioning your life.

“It’s the same guy I told you about. The birthday boy.” Jongho does a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

“He’s still showing up with his friends?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. And he always looks for me. Asks for me. Doesn’t pay attention to any other dancer there.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“We know nothing about each other. He knows my stage name, he knows my club persona.” You sigh. “That’s why it made me question life. It’s dumb, I know.” You purse your lips together as you shove the albums into the shelf and move onto the next task.

“Well, there has to be a reason why he keeps coming back for you and only you. Maybe he wants to know you, outside of the club and that whole persona thing.” Jongho shrugs. “Never say never.”

“He’s a businessman of some sort. Suited up all the time. He must work for a really good company. Probably has a family that is well off.” You shake your head and make your way back to the front. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Why don’t you ask—“ At this point, just as you settle at the register with Jongho, a few people enter the shop. You whip your head towards the entrance when you hear some laughter, only for your eyes to widen.

“Oh, shit. Jongho!” You whisper harshly. “What the hell is he doing here?!” He looks over your shoulder as San and Wooyoung walk in, Wooyoung instantly making a turn to head to the vinyl collection.

“Is that birthday boy?” You nod with a worried expression on your face. San is about to walk past the register when he furrows his brows at the small commotion happening behind the counter, turning his attention towards you and Jongho.

“Too late dude, he’s right there.” Jongho blocks you from leaving. “It’d be too obvious now, just take it like a fucking champ and say hi.” He says through gritted teeth. “I gotta walk around anyways.” He turns to San enthusiastically. “Hey, welcome in.”

“Hey.” San looks at the both of you, his brows still furrowed when his eyes land on your face.

“Hi. Let me know if you need help.” You try to scurry off, but San stops you.

“Woah, wait. You’re—“

“Don’t say it outloud here.” San’s lips form into the shape of an ‘o’ before nodding. He can’t help but glaze over your features and how naturally beautiful you are– the sun hitting your skin perfectly. You never packed on the makeup heavily on stage, but you did still have a face on every time you worked at the club. He subtly nibbles onto his bottom lip, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

“You work here, too?”

“Makes up for the days I’m not there.” He nods.

“Well, hi.” He gives you a small smile.

“Hi.” You tilt your head. “I’ve never seen you around this part of the city. Ever.” He snorts a bit.

“We’re never usually on the outskirts, but Wooyoung was adamant about getting vinyls for his new record player. You guys are the only shop that has a good collection.” You nod, San stepping aside when a customer unloads their basket onto the counter. He lingers around, watching how delicate you are handling the merchandise and how big your smile is when helping the customer. As expected, you’re very different from the club— you seem more relaxed, laid back. Sweet. Happy.

“So, are you just gonna stand there and wait for Wooyoung?” You chuckle after wrapping up the transaction and handing the customer their bag, bidding farewell as they head out of the store.

“I don’t really need anything so, yeah. I guess so. I’d rather talk to you, anyway.” You give him a look and take the sticker gun in your hand, walking away from the counter when a coworker comes back from break to relieve you.

“I’m working.” You head back to the floor, San following behind.

“I know.” He watches as you begin to sort through another shipment. “Are you gonna tell me your name now that we’re outside of the club?”

“Why do you wanna learn my name so badly? And why are you always at the club? Don’t you have like.. other things to do? A girlfriend or someone to entertain?” You shiver at the thought. God, you hope not. Especially with how he’s been lately. But, men are trash and you wouldn’t expect any less.

“Because I do? You’re not just someone from the club.” You look at him briefly before looking back down at the stack of albums. “And no, I don’t have someone to entertain. I wouldn’t be there often if I did.” Touché. “We just had fun on my birthday. It’s a good way to let out some steam after busy days.”

“Hm.” You hum.

“I like seeing you there.” He casually says, making you pause in your actions before continuing.

“I don’t make the club, San.”

“You make it for me. Or else I wouldn’t be going.” You look at him again with a hand on your hip. He has a small smirk plastered on his face and you can’t help but notice how attractive he looks under the daylight— smooth honey skin, hoodie over his head, soft black hair teasing his forehead. Your eyes linger on him for a lot longer than you’d like, having to force yourself to snap out of it when you realize [again] that San wouldn’t want you in that way.

“What are you trying to do here?” You cock a brow up just before you start working on the CDs in front of you, marking them down and adding new price tags to the back.

“Get to know you.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” San continues to smirk, leaning against the shelves.

“Y/N, take your break in a few minutes.” Jongho says coming down the aisle before giving San a small, pursed smile.

“Yeah, Y/N.” San chimes in and teases. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“You ready? I found what I needed—“ Wooyoung comes from around the corner, pausing mid-sentence when he realizes San isn’t alone. “Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Your eyes dart to Wooyoung and he smiles. “Wow, you’re really pretty in the daylight—“ San taps him on the chest. “What, I’m just saying! It’s hard to really see faces in the club lighting. Besides, I don’t get the privilege of having private—“

“Okay, that’s—yeah.” San cuts him off and scratches at his head. “Really sorry.”

“You ready?” You let out a sigh before asking Wooyoung. “I can ring you up at the other register before I head to break.”

“Yeah.” You lead them to the smaller checkout stand at the end of the aisle, scanning Wooyoung’s items and bagging up his things as he pays. Throughout the entire time, San is still watching you; subtly biting onto his bottom lip when he can’t help but think of the nights at the club, being intimately close with you— seeing you in a different light than this.

Which, he’s trying not to. He just can’t help it. You are beauty in its purest form, and he wishes he could know more about you.

And you don’t fail to notice.

The look San has in his eyes is different from what you’re used to seeing at nighttime. It makes you nervous from the butterflies you feel, the curiosity running through your veins— even if the other thoughts in your mind say otherwise.

“Guess we’ll see you around?” Wooyoung smirks before walking out of the shop first.

“See you soon, Y/N.” Just before San walks out, you shut off the part of your brain that keeps spewing negativity and all these other ‘what if’s.’

“W-wait.”

“Hm?” He hums, his hands in his pocket as he cocks a brow up. You begin to scribble your number down on a random receipt that was left behind, pushing it over to San shortly afterwards.

“Don’t ask for free dances or anything though, I’ll block you.” San chuckles before grabbing the receipt and tucking it into his pocket.

“Don’t want that, now do we?” He winks before stepping out of the shop.

“Cute.” You glare at Jongho and hit him on the arm. “Ouch, what!”

“Why would you say my name around him!”

“You act like he wasn’t gonna find out one way or another, the dude definitely has googly eyes over you.” He crosses his arms and smirks. “Besides, you slipped him your number.”

“Ugh.” You continue to glare at him. “I’m going on my break.”

“So you can text San, hm?” You mouth out a quick ‘fuck off’ before turning on your heel and heading to the break room. The entire scenario hadn't been processed in your mind until now, unsure if giving your number to San was a good idea or not.

You didn’t wanna get attached to him. Not him, of all people. Though, you know you will, and that’s why it feels like a bad decision.

A decision you think you might regret.

The thought blows over when you get home that night, exhausted from your work day and the commute. You hop in the shower and whip up a teriyaki chicken rice bowl with some veggies. You plop onto your couch and turn on the TV, picking up on where you left off on the last episode of the series you were watching. Barely 7 minutes in, a call comes through on your phone, your eyes widening at the name flashing across the screen. Just as you briefly debate on answering the call, your hands are already moving towards the phone; swiping right to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” San says on the other line so nonchalantly, as if you two had been talking for years.

“Hi?” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. “What made you call?”

“I just wanted to talk to you and ask how the rest of your day at work went.”

“Oh.” You shrug as if he can see you. “It was alright. Nothing too bad.”

“Yeah? Nobody get on your nerve throughout the day?”

“I also work at a strip club. I think the music shop is very mild when it comes to that.” You joke, making San laugh a bit on the other line. “How was the rest of yours?”

“Good. Wooyoung and I just grabbed something to eat before he brought me home.”

“Where’s home for you?”

“Probably 20 minutes away from the city.” He responds just as you hear dishes clinking in the background. “Did you eat already?”

“I am right now.”

“Oh shit, sorry. Do you want me to call you later? Or, I guess, I can just text you?”

“It’s okay, San. I don’t mind.”

“Mmkay. Just checking.”

“I know you just saw Wooyoung, but you guys aren’t hanging out with the rest of your friends tonight?”

“Believe it or not, we like taking breaks from each other.” He laughs a bit. “No but, Mingi, the really tall one, has a date or whatever tonight.”

“Or whatever?” You laugh.

“He’s weird about these things. Says it’s a date when we all know he’s not really ready to date seriously.”

“Mm, one of those guys. You like that, too?”

“Definitely not. If I really like someone and we hit it off, I’ll pursue them to no end.”

“Mhm.” You find yourself teasing him more. “Cute. Have you guys known each other for long?”

“Me and Wooyoung grew up together. Our parents are close, too. We met Hongjoong and Mingi in college.”

“That’s sweet.”

“What about you, Y/N? What about your friends? Tell me more about yourself. I meant it when I said I wanna get to know you.” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, even though every bone in your body is telling you to continue keeping your guard up.

“Ah, did you? Cause it definitely sounded like a line.” You snort.

“It’s not just a line. Seriously.”

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have an interesting story.” You poke at your food before taking a small bite.

“Don’t say that. I find you interesting no matter what.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll say it later, too.” He reassures you.

“I– I don’t know. I’m not close to my family after the decisions I’ve made, and friends left my side especially after I started working at the club more. Jongho is really the only person who has stayed by my side since we were younger.”

“I’m sorry. Why aren’t they your friends anymore?”

“I guess they just think I’m dumb for not going to school and for settling at the club.”

“I mean, that’s not really fair? It’s not dumb if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t think I’d take dance that seriously.”

“You’re really good at it.” You chuckle hearing his response. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Wish I could tell you. My family is in the same boat. My older sister graduated from college and started her own lab after finishing her postdoctoral appointment. Imagine how much my family looks down on me. I struggled for awhile and Jongho helped me out a lot.”

“I’m glad you at least have him.”

“I am too.”

“What else do you like to do?”

“San, are you sure you don’t have anything else to do tonight?” He laughs. “What about your family?”

“Swear. My family is fine, they’re doing their own thing.”

“Do they live around here too?”

“Nope, maybe an hour or so away? I have an older sister too, but she’s overseas right now. She’s in the fashion industry.” He lets out a small sigh. “I genuinely wanted to call you and talk to you after seeing you today.”

“You’re such a mystery.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You just are. I see you at the club a couple of times, then I see you at the shop. Now we’re on the phone. It’s just funny how things play out.”

“Nothing mysterious about it. Maybe it’s just meant to play out that way.”

“What’s meant to play out that way?”

“Us.” You pause. Mainly because you couldn’t believe this is how things were meant to play out with San. Why was he everywhere and nowhere at the same time? Why was he calling you and trying to get to know you? And what if it was meant to play out this way? It could either mean two things— one, San was meant to play some sort of good in your life.

Or two, San was meant to break your heart and teach you yet another lesson in this crazy universe.

You weren’t sure what to think of it all, if you were even ready to figure out what all of this meant.

But, at this moment in time, all the regrets and thoughts continue to brush over your head because you like hearing San’s voice and you like talking to him outside of the club. You are intrigued, and you can’t say you aren’t keen on finding out what this is.

So, you continue to talk to San. 30 minutes turns into an hour; slipping into bed with San still on the other line. It’s easy to talk to him and you like that he initiates most of the conversation. He doesn’t judge you and he doesn’t pressure you into talking about things you don’t feel comfortable diving into right now. He doesn’t put the focus on himself much and he listens. You find yourself giggling, tossing and turning under the sheets— thoughts exploring uncharted territories.

San almost feels like a bad decision; a decision you think you might regret.

For tonight, you’ll take it. You’ll take this for what it is, and you’ll take San for who he is. You’ll find out what his role is in your life and why this is playing out the way it is for the both of you.

Maybe he is good.

Maybe he is a heartbreaker.

Or maybe San is meant to be San, a passing moment in your life that eventually just ends.

Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. Even if it's something you might regret later on.

“Can I tell you something Y/N?” He asks just as you feel the exhaustion hitting your body.

“Mhm?”

“You’re really beautiful. I like seeing you, especially on stage. You know how to drive people crazy.”

San continues to text and call you, just to ask if you’re doing okay— to let you know he always looks forward to seeing you. Small smiley faces, goodmorning’s and goodnight’s, dropping by with food or just to say hi at the music shop; you can’t help but feel the butterflies in your tummy grow when it comes to San.

You’re not sure if you despise it or not.

Jongho says you should just see where it goes and tries to reassure you by telling you what’s meant to be, will be, and that you shouldn’t read too much into things right now.

Keep doing you as you have, and continue to move forward.

But, it’s a lot easier said than done. Especially when you don’t understand what San wants out of you. He’s respected your boundaries through text, not asking for free dances or nudes, only keeping it brief to check in on you sometimes. Yet, at the club, he’s handsy. He’s vocalized how much he wants you and how much he wishes he could know more about you outside of the club.

San is an enigma.

You count in your head as you slowly take steps forward on stage, trying your hardest not to get distracted.

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Fall into the splits.

Five, six.

Bounce.

You get back onto your fours, shaking ass for the men lined up near the stage constantly tossing bills your way and shoving it under the ties of your bikini bottoms. It isn’t long before the main stage is where the most activity is happening— the club incredibly busy tonight with tons of celebrations. You’ve just stepped out of a VIP booth, your client paying you more than you could ask for by simply requesting if you could just work the pole for him. You gladly oblige, making it one less man to give a lap dance to before your shift is over.

Besides, you can’t help but think of San.

And the moment you start to think about him, is the exact moment you find him lingering in the club with his boys— eyes scanning the stage and room before they finally find you near the VIP booths. It’s been a minute since they’ve stopped by. San has mentioned that he and his friends have just been swamped at work and that he can’t wait to let some steam out soon. He’s in all black tonight; black fitted slacks, boots, a black-button up with his chest partially exposed. He’s got a silver chain around his neck, and god, does the sight immediately do things to you.

They order a round of drinks before San finds himself at one of the seats next to the stage. He’s entertaining the crowd a bit, joining in when your coworker steals the stage and grabs the attention from the men around you. You don’t mind because it gives you the opportunity to slip away and take a breather, maybe run for a quick water break before you sway your hips in San’s direction.

And sure enough, he’s been waiting. Like he always is.

Just as you sweet talk your way through the crowd and grab a few extra tips for it, San gently wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. He smirks at you, eyes glazed over from all the alcohol he’s already downed.

“Mm, I’ve been waiting.” He says. “Can I have you?” The question sends shivers down your spine, his touch against your hip electrifying.

“Depends.” You tease as he slips a few bills into your bra. “Can you handle it tonight? You’re pretty drunk.”

“Can always handle you, babygirl.” He says in your ear. You instantly stand to your feet and grab his hand, leading him to one of the free VIP booths. As soon as you pull the curtains close and try to work your way over to the pole, San pulls you back onto his lap— hands caressing your sides as you fix your position and properly straddle him. “Need you here, not there.”

“Thought you liked watching me work the pole.”

“I do, but not as much as I like watching you on me.”

“You’re incredibly suave tonight, what’s gotten into you?” You giggle, feeling San’s hands grope your ass.

“Just missed you.”

“We’ve been talking quite a bit.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as seeing you.”

“You just missed the club.”

“Nah. You.” He corrects you. Something about San is different tonight, but you can’t say you dislike it. He’s a little more straightforward, a little more bolder, a little more open about his want— his need— for you. Especially when he caresses your tits; palm gently gliding over before giving your nipples a good pinch. Especially when his lips ghost over your neck, jaw, finally finding its way to your ear. Especially when he whispers about how pretty you look and how he wishes he could kiss you.

“Who said you couldn’t?” He pauses for a moment to look at you, really look at you, before taking his hand to your cheek and bringing you down to his lips. The way your lips crash is intense, full of lust.

Want.

Need.

A craving to be fulfilled.

The kiss easily turns wet, sloppy; San’s hands digging half crescents into your hips as he guides you to work your hips against him. He lets out a shaky breath in between, lips now traveling down to your jaw, neck.

“Fuck.” You hear him groan against your skin, right before his tongue glides against the surface; nibbling and sucking gently to soothe the mark.

“San.” You call his name as he continues down to the base of your neck, collarbone— lips now pressed against your inner breast. Part of you feels so, so good in San’s arms. But the other half feels so incredibly conflicted about the whole situation solely because San is an enigma. You aren’t sure if it’s enough to sway you away. Reality hits when the crowd outside roars in cheers, pulling you away from the sweet daydream, the sweet fog that temporarily clouded your vision. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you gently pry him away and push him back. “San.” You repeat.

“Yeah?”

“We shouldn’t.” He licks his lips, eyes still glued onto yours. Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight back, no. Instead, he kisses you one last time— lips locked until one of you pulls away first. You hop off his lap and walk off towards the curtain, giving him one last look before leaving him alone. “See you out there, okay?” Is all you manage to say. San knows better than to do this here, of all places, but he can’t seem to help himself. He’s stuck on you, has this pull to you, and he wants it all. He doesn’t fight though, because he should be doing better. This probably looks all wrong and confusing to you and he doesn’t mean to do that. He’s just no good at this, no good at approaching you— you, so sexy and so independent.

It’s something about you, and he’s losing his mind.

“Shoot your fucking shot already.” Hongjoong comes around the corner from the bathroom, running into San as he exits the VIP booth.

“What?” He asks, still a bit discombobulated after the short but intense session in the booth.

“Your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Shut up.” He says, forehead furrowed. “We come to the club and all you do is look for her. Can’t tell me there isn’t anything more to it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just do it. What do you have to lose? You’re not getting any younger.” Hongjoong snickers, but it quickly fades when San’s expression hasn’t changed. “You’re just trying to fuck, right?” San finally meets his eyes but he doesn’t say anything, and it kinda freaks Hongjoong out. “What the fuck, San?”

“What?”

“You actually like her? You can’t be serious. I thought it was just a one time thing–”

“What the fuck does it matter?” San lets out a small chuckle to play off the whole thing, but frankly, he’s trying his hardest to not let Hongjoong ruin his mood. “Look, I’m not trying to think about this here. Ready?” He nods towards the bar, finding Mingi and Wooyoung amongst the crowd.

For the rest of the night, you do what you do best— deflect and avoid. You’re not sure how long you can keep doing this around San, especially every time you have an encounter with him. You start questioning yourself so much that it gets to you, that the reality of the situation starts dawning on you even though you have no foundation to back things up. But, you’d like to think that you haven’t fallen too deep; you could still swim up to the surface if you needed to, and you’d like to keep it that way.

However, that feels like a far reach when your shift ends. You feel like you’ve escaped for the umpteenth time until you realize you really haven’t, and that maybe, San was always going to be an enigma you were meant to figure out.

“Y/N.” You hear a familiar voice call for you as you walk down the street. You’re still walking at a steady pace, but the steps behind you seem to be catching up fairly quickly. “Y/N—” You turn and place your hand over his mouth, making San furrow his brows at you.

“We’re still nearby. I’d like it if you didn’t go yelling my name around like that.” He chuckles as you let him go, continuing your walk home.

“Some people should know your name by now, right?”

“And the majority that don’t?” You look at him. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“Sorry, beautiful.” You playfully roll your eyes, trying to keep your guard up.

“What’re you doing, San?”

“Walking you home.”

“What about your friends?” You pause in your steps, creating enough distance between you and the club by now.

“They can handle their own.” He shrugs. “Let me walk you.”

“Then, what?”

“Then at least I know you’re safe and sound.” You let out a breath before continuing to walk with San. You aren’t gonna lie— having San’s company makes you feel ten times safer, and you feel comfortable having him alongside you. Usually, you rush your walk just to get home in one piece. Tonight, you can finally enjoy the crisp, night time air for a bit longer.

Tonight, you can finally enjoy the stars for a bit longer.

Tonight, you can enjoy San for a bit longer.

“San?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you get tired of going to the club?” He shakes his head and laughs.

“Not really. It’s kinda fun. Beats going to a regular club.”

“Can I ask?” He nods. “What do you do for work?”

“I just work for a tech company in their finance department.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know tech guys liked strip clubs so much.”

“Change of scenery.” You chuckle, easing up a bit in San’s company. “Is this your usual walk home?”

“Mhm. It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, but it’s also like.. 3am.” San looks down at you. “Why don’t you just take an Uber home or something?”

“Why, when it’s within walking distance?”

“Safety reasons. You don’t feel scared?”

“Not really. I’ve done this walk for years now.”

“Why don’t I just bring you home from now on?” You laugh.

“Even if you don’t go to the club?”

“Especially when I don’t go to the club.”

“That’s too much work. I can’t ask you to do that. Plus, you work a regular 9-5 I’m assuming.”

“But, I’m offering? I don’t really trickle in right at 9 for work, as long as I make my 8 or so hours for the day. Plus, I can work from home sometimes.” You don’t say anything, so he quickly follows up with: “I know the walk is close, but it makes me feel weird about letting you be out here this late after work.”

“Hm.” You look at him.

“Let me.”

“Hey, just so we remember this— you offered and put that out on the table. Not me.” He laughs.

“Got it, your honor.”

“Are you not cold?”

“No. The cold is helping a lot right now.”

“How drunk were you today?”

“Pretty drunk.” He laughs. “It’s been a very long couple of weeks. I probably sound like a broken record but there’s no better way to put it. Lots of deadlines to meet with little time to prep.”

“Ah, the surprise deadlines. I’m sure it went fine, right?”

“Yeah, sure. After all the stress they put me through first.” San snorts.

“It’s done now. You made it.” You turn the corner and continue to walk down the path until you reach your building— a small, quaint building in the middle of the residential area. You lead San to your door at the far right corner of the building. “Welp, this is me.” You turn to look at him and he gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

“Cute.” You awkwardly fiddle with your fingers, feeling bad about turning San away. A part of you genuinely wants his company outside of the club and he seems to want the same, too.

“D-do you wanna come in, by any chance?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I am.” You turn to unlock the door. “Sorry if it’s super small and not aesthetically pleasing to look at.”

“Y/N, don’t apologize.” He steps in and steps out of his shoes, eyes wandering around your tiny studio. “It’s nice. I like the plants.” He eyes the plants near the shelf that blocks off your bed from the couch, TV and ‘living room’ area.

“Thanks. I try to take really good care of them.” He chuckles as he plops onto the couch.

“It’s a cozy space. It’s perfect for you, no?”

“I like it. I’ve been here for the past year and a half or so? Jongho’s aunt is the landlord and he did a lot to convince her to let me have this place for decent rent.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. He was probably tired of me.” You grab two water bottles from your fridge. “I lived with him for a long time. We shared rooms.”

“He’s a really good friend.”

“He is.” You stand near him and hand him the water bottle. “Make yourself at home, I’m just gonna take a quick shower.”

“Can I join?”

“Do you wanna be tossed out?” He laughs.

“Kidding.” He pulls out his phone and begins to scroll through his social media. “I’ll wait patiently.” You grab your shirt and shorts before running into the bathroom to take a quick body shower, excited to rinse off the night from your skin. It only takes you about 15 minutes to fully get ready for bed, San still waiting patiently on your couch. His eyes shift from his screen to you—

Slowly ogling your body,

Down to your legs.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You plop next to him, watching as he lets his head rest on the back of the couch. “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go home and get rest.”

“Do you want me to go home?” He looks at you and you aren’t really sure how to answer the question. Yes, you do, so San can rest.

But no, you don’t, because you like having him here.

You can’t help but remember the events that transpired earlier at the club and what it would feel like to have his lips on you again—

“No, not really.”

“Good, cause I wanna keep you company for a little longer.”

“San?”

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“When you kissed me earlier—” You lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat. “Did you kiss me because you were drunk at the club, or because you genuinely wanted to?”

“I told you I really wanted to.” You sit and look at him, unsure of how you feel about his response. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know, San. I can’t read you.”

“You don’t have to.” He sits up, his face only inches away from yours. “It’s okay to tell me you don’t believe me, Y/N. I’d rather you be honest than not.”

“Then, no. I don’t.” He lets out a tiny, breathy laugh, a small smirk perked up on the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough.” He says lowly, eyes scanning your lips, your face and all its features. “Then, will you give me another chance to show you so you do believe me?” His thumb gently caresses your chin before grazing over your bottom lip. “Hm?” He hums. You nod, giving him leverage to dip down further, lips locked with yours for another soft, passionate kiss. It quickly deepens when San slips his tongue in; his fighting for dominance against yours. You find yourself hurrying to position yourself onto his lap, hands grabbing at his shirt. He gently nibbles on your jaw before making his way back down to your neck, no longer hesitating to suck on certain spots to leave his mark. His hands make their way up your shirt, palming at your tits while you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s get this off, baby.” The petname sends shivers down your spine, making you easily oblige to his request.

You shed off his shirt just as he tosses yours to the side, mouth instantly latching onto your perked bud. His tongue moves in a circular motion, pulling back with a pop before moving onto the next. You let out a moan when he flicks around your nipple, sucking gently before trailing his lips a bit further down.

“Hold onto me. Need you on the bed.” He huskily says as you wrap your arms and legs around him, San’s hands coming down to grip your ass. He takes you to your bed, wasting no time to get rid of the rest of the clothing sitting on your bodies. Everything feels so intimately rushed with San because there’s so much desire, so many thoughts and cravings to be fulfilled. He continues to kiss you, slipping two digits into you to test the waters— to see how wet you are, how tight you are. “Jesus.” He mumbles against your lips.

You are dripping.

“Sannie.” The nickname accidently slips from your lips again, making him smile against you.

“So cute when you say my name like that.” He lets out a breath. “You’re so wet for me. Think you can take me now?” He’s pumping himself and the sight makes you drool. He’s perfectly built— toned abs and biceps, skin dipped in honey, a perfectly thick cock. You nod, eager to get a taste of San, eager to see what he’ll do to you.

“Need you.”

“Oh, you do?” He has that smug smirk on his face just as positions himself at your entrance. “Shit, I don’t have a condom—”

“Here.” You quickly dig through your nightstand and grab a condom you got last week. Dude who tipped you off thought he was slick by throwing a condom in there, thinking he could get some.

At least it came in handy to your liking.

San quickly rips the packet open, throwing the condom on before lowering himself back down onto you. You let out a broken moan when he slips himself in, slowly burying himself to the hilt. His breath is hot against your neck, the both of you releasing shaky exhales while you get used to the feeling. He begins to rock his hips at a slow, steady pace; mumbling curses against your skin as he adjusts to your walls sucking him in.

“God, you feel so good— fuck, Y/N. You’re so hot.” He grunts, his thoughts running wild about seeing you at the club, getting his lap dances.

To this.

Everything about you drives San wild and he’s not even sure how he can explain the feeling. So sexy, so independent; attitude on na-na while worrying about yourself and yourself only.

San starts to fuck you faster, hips pounding against you and echoing in the studio. You’re both probably a bit too loud for your neighbors right now, but you truly could care less. San was driving himself into you at a delicious pace, hitting you in all the right spots.

“San.” You call his name, hands tugging at the hair sitting on the nape of his neck. “Like that— like that.” You whimper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He sits up to pound against you at a different angle, hands at your thighs to spread you completely open. He loves seeing the way your slickness coats his cock, his head tilting back in immense pleasure. “Wanna cum for me, pretty girl? Wanna cum all over this dick? So good for me.” He praises, and praises, thumb coming down to work your clit.

“Oh, god.” You moan, hands gripping at the sheets as you feel yourself tipping over the edge the more San fucks into you, the more he rubs at your clit, the more your hips match his movements. You have never been this turned on by someone— at least, not in a very long time. San is so, so attractive. He is suave, and he knows what he’s doing with you. “So close.” San continues to praise you, telling you how beautiful you look underneath him.

How pretty you are.

How badly he wants you.

How you always drive him crazy.

And if it wasn’t for the constant praising, if it wasn’t for the way his hips worked so well against yours, if it wasn’t for the way San was skillfully rubbing at your clit— you wouldn’t be close to unraveling so quickly.

“San, I’m—“ You barely make out before you come undone beneath him, mouth slacked open as a silent moan leaves your lips; body trembling in his grip. This gives him momentum to drive his hips into you faster, harder; uncoiling shortly afterwards.

“Shit, Y/N. Feels too good.” San groans, unloading into the condom. His hands tightly grip your thighs as he gives it one, two more thrusts before coming back down from his high.

Everything feels so beautiful, yet intimately rushed. So, so good yet equally so, so bad for you.

Before you can even say anything, San lowers himself to give you a kiss on the lips. He kisses you for awhile before slipping himself out and grabbing a napkin to wrap the condom in. He quietly takes another few napkins to help clean up, wiping you gently before moving onto himself and plopping onto your bed next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes closed as he regulates his breathing.

“Mhm.”

“Good?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles at your response, pulling you into his arms while you pull the sheets over the both of you. “Definitely worn out, though.”

“Yeah, same.” He kisses the top of your head. “Mind if I crash here for a bit? I don’t mind leaving too, if it makes you uncomfortable. Just let me know.”

“No, you’re good. I don’t mind, San.”

“Was hoping you’d say that.” You chuckle, adjusting your position to comfortably lay on San and fall asleep on his chest.

This is when you start to regret ever giving San the attention, your number, everything.

Because now that you know him a little more, San has become your kryptonite.

After that night, you woke up to an empty bedside— almost no signs of San entirely in your studio. Though it made your heart clench a little bit, part of you knew you wouldn’t be waking up to him.

For work, for other reasons.

Other reasons being that maybe, he really just did want you the one time. And the thought lingered for a little longer when he took awhile to text you that day, your mind running through all the worst possible scenarios during the hours.

▹ FLASHBACK

You slept like a baby after what felt like years, warmth of the sheets still engulfing you as your eyes flutter open. The sun leaves a trail down your sheets, everything quiet; still. When you turn, you find that San is gone— the dip on that side of the bed long gone, his clothes gone, waterbottle gone.

It was like he was never here in the first place.

Your clothes are set neatly off on the edge of the bed instead of the floor. And god, it feels kinda lonely without San. It’s your first telltale sign of attachment, though you know you shouldn’t be at that point after one intimate night with him.

But, it’s hard.

You check your phone and there aren’t any new texts besides Jongho and his need to send you random Instagram reels or TikToks. You lay in bed for a bit longer, letting out a soft sigh when you catch yourself wondering about San in that way. You shut your eyes for a little more, hoping you’ll be able to shake off the ‘what if’s’ with a couple of more hours of sleep.

Meanwhile, San tiredly walks into the office a bit past 10am, hopping straight into his first meeting of the day. It lasts an hour before he’s finally able to walk to the kitchen to grab his first [and much needed] cup of coffee.

“What the fuck happened to you last night, Mr. Suave?” Wooyoung comes beside him, waiting to get his cup of coffee refilled.

“I walked Y/N home.” San smirks.

“Yeah, obviously.” Wooyoung slightly glares at him. “You’re not slick, dumbass. You fucked, didn’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Wow, I’m your bestfriend and you’re asking me that question?” Wooyoung lets out a little ‘pfft’ before playfully shoving San aside to finally get his refill. “I’ll take that as a yes. What’s the deal with you and Miss Crimson, anyway?”

“I like seeing her.” San shrugs. “I like her company.”

“You barely know her outside of the strip club.”

“I believe that’s the point of getting to know her.” San says in a very matter-of-a-fact tone.

“Dude, I didn’t think you’d actually go for her.” San raises his brow.

“Why is everyone saying that? What’s so wrong about it?”

“Nothing! I really just thought you were trying toot it and boot it.”

“Hm.” All San can do is hum while he stirs the stirrer around in his cup.

“But what about Noelle? You guys have that weird, toxic ex relationship thingy going on.” Wooyoung almost visibly shudders at the thought of their complicated relationship. So much back and forth, lying, getting in each other’s beds just to fulfill a need even though they don’t mean it for shit.

Yeah, toxic.

“Yeah, no. I’m done with that.”

“Mm, but you’ve said that before. You mean it? Like you’re actually over her because you genuinely like Y/N? Or, you’re done with it until you cave again?”

“I’m done with it.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Wooyoung takes a sip of his coffee. “I saw her texting you again.”

“I’m trying to tell her it’s done with.”

“Don’t see the urgency though, Mr. I-like-Y/N-and-I-enjoy-her-company. Out here breaking hearts in true Choi San fashion.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung laughs, leaving him in the kitchen. San sighs to himself, a little tired, stressed even, about the whole Noelle situation. Truthfully, Wooyoung is right. Him and Noelle have too much history, too much baggage. Too much of that toxic shit. San is partially to blame because he does crawl back to her, he does cave pretty easily. And it’s not even because San wants to get back with her, no. He knows they can’t work out. All they do is bring out the worst in each other.

But, Noelle is the only thing he’s known for awhile. She fills his void pretty well because it’s familiar territory.

He’s done with it, though. He swears. He’s confused and not entirely sure where he sees this going right now, but you are intriguing. He sees you and his curiosity skyrockets. He wants to know more about you, and after last night, he feels like he can’t get enough of you. He wants more, and he’ll continue to show you that.

▹ END

“Yo.” Jongho’s eyes are barely peeking over the screen on the FaceTime call.

“What’s up?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Just hanging out. Eating some lunch.” You continue to poke at the salad you made. “How’s work?”

“Good, I guess. I’m grabbing some food right now from the shop down the street. How’s loverboy been?”

“Would you stop calling him that?”

“Well, what else is he, Y/N?” Jongho laughs a bit.

“Not my loverboy.”

“Says you even though he drops by to bring you food and calls you nonstop.”

“He doesn’t call me nonstop.”

“Sorry, once a day.” He gives you a look. “Have you seen him lately?”

“No. He went to the club once last week. Said he’s been busy again with work. I feel like it’s something else, though.”

“Mmm.” Jongho hums. “You’re overthinking.”

“I’m not.”

“I can hear you from here. What is it?”

“He’s just been kinda weird lately.”

“Distant?”

“Yeah. Maybe it is just work.”

“He’s probably just got way too much on his plate.”

“I shouldn’t even be thinking about it like this too much.” You finish up your salad. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Mm, okay. Well. Are you doing your usual shift at the club later?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s it been? Wanna hang out tomorrow before your shift?” He slightly pushes the phone away after placing his order and paying at the cashier.

“It’s the same old.” You sigh. “I’m down for that though.”

“Okay. I’ll come get you.”

“Jongho.”

“Yeah?”

“Seeing San makes me question myself. I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“In what way?”

“I just feel ashamed. It makes me wanna look for a different job and leave the club.”

“Well, okay. Are you still happy at the club, or do you wanna do something else?”

“I’m happy but I feel like I could do better.”

“Because of San or because of you? Kinda important to differentiate. If you’re still happy but feel like you could do better for you, then great! But, if you wanna do better just to impress San and do it for him, then no.”

“I feel so stupid. I mean, he drops me off at home. We see each other from time to time–”

“Have sex with each other from time to time–”

“Jongho!”

“What?” He laughs.

“You’re in public!”

“So?! It’s natural human behavior. My god.” He laughs a bit more. “I’m not wrong though.”

“It’s so dumb. I don’t even know what this is. Probably not even something to be questioning my life like this.”

“Has San ever said anything to make you feel that way?”

“No. In fact, he’s supportive about everything and didn’t make me feel terrible about my past decisions.”

“Then you’re overthinking again.” He thanks the staff before grabbing his bag of food. “Y/N, what did I tell you? Just let things be. Don’t make any rash decisions or start assuming things if everything is fine.”

“But is everything fine?”

“It sounds like it to me. He seems like a nice guy. You might wanna have that conversation about what you two are later on if things really haven’t progressed yet, but otherwise, I truly think he’s a nice guy and he’s probably just busy.”

“Jongho–” Suddenly, a few knocks come to your door, throwing you off guard mid-call.

“Guess that’s my cue to go. Text me about tomorrow.”

“Alright.” You say right before ending the call. You set your bowl aside in the kitchen before looking through the peephole on the door. To your surprise [or not], San is standing there on his phone with a small bag in hand.

“Hey.” You say, as you let him in. He smiles, but San doesn’t respond right away with the same enthusiasm. Instead, he shifts his attention to the text that came through on his phone before tucking it away and smiling at you.

“Hey. Sorry.” He hands you a small bag. “I bring pastries.”

“Mm, more pastries.” You tease with a giggle. “Thanks. What brings you here?”

“Sorry, I meant to text you but I forgot. I just wanted to see you since I haven’t been able to for a bit.” He kisses you on the cheek before making his way to your couch.

“Work’s been crazy, hm?” He sighs and leans his head back.

“Uh, yeah. It has been. But, it’s finally the weekend and I can kick back for a bit.” His hand comes up to run your back while you dig through the pastries he bought. “Did you eat already?”

“Mm, yeah. I just made a small salad. I’m not too hungry. Was on the phone with Jongho for a bit.”

“I see. You should eat a little more before your shift.”

“I will.” You look at him. “Are you guys going to the club tonight?” He nods.

“Mingi said he needs it.” You chuckle.

“Do you need it, too?”

“Kinda, but I’m here with you already and I get you all to myself.”

“You do that at the club, too.” You tease.

“Can’t help it.” San quietly looks at you while his arm is loosely around your waist. You observe him for a bit, trying to see if you can read into him or find any obvious signs of what else has been stressing him lately. He’s the same, except more tired, not as talkative or playful like he usually is. Your gut tells you it’s something deeper than work and you’re not sure how you’ll figure him out.

“San.”

“Mhm?”

“You sure it’s just been work stressing you out?” He leans forward to meet your gaze with a small smile.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t really been myself lately.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I missed you, though. I really missed you.” His finger is tracing soft circles against your hip. He dips forward to place a gentle kiss right below your earlobe, his soft, pink lips sending tingles down your spine. You shouldn’t be buckling this fast around San, but god, does he have you wrapped around his finger. He places a kiss at the corner of your lips and you instantly feel like jelly.

You missed him, too.

And you want him. Badly.

Before you know it, San is sitting up against the wall, watching you bounce on his dick like the good girl you are. He’s watching through hooded eyes; glued to the way your tits bounce, the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way you moan for him like all of this was made for you and you only.

“Fuck.” San groans, hands on your hips to guide you and slam you down onto his length. “You know how to ride me so well.” He watches as you begin to roll your hips against him, taking more control while riding him; it's pure ecstasy. Your moans, your movements, everything about it is just.. addicting.

You have such a captivating presence, and San can't help but lose himself in you.

“Baby, if you keep working me like that, you’ll make me cum.” He moans, head resting back against the wall. Your hand rests on his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze as you feel yourself bubbling with pleasure. Your clit is rubbing against him deliciously, and you can’t help but sit back and ride him at a different angle.

“Sannie.” You moan loudly. “Ohhhhshit.” Your words melt together when you suddenly feel yourself unraveling quicker than expected. “I’m cumming— fuck, fuck, fuck—“ You repeat like a mantra, hips working sloppily against him as you come undone; the sounds bouncing off the walls nothing short of pornographic.

“That’s my good girl.” San loves watching the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way you moan loudly, the way he could hear how wet you are. Once you’ve come down from your high, San wastes no time getting you on your fours— face down, ass up. He gives your ass a good knead, spitting onto your pussy before lining himself back up at your entrance. He pushes himself in and works at a steady rhythm, giving your ass a good smack. You let out another moan, tears pricking your lids at how sensitive you’re feeling right now. He’s fucking into you so good, your ass is clapping against him. “You look so good like this, baby. You like it when I fuck you like this, hm?” He gives your ass another smack, cheek red from the impact. “Does it feel good?”

“So good, San.” He moans loudly as he continues to piston into you.

“Your pussy was made for me.” He groans. “Whose is it, Y/N?”

“Y-yours.” You choke, cheek digging deep into the mattress.

“Louder, babygirl. I can’t hear you.”

“Yours!”

“There you go.” He grunts, ass feeling numb from San fucking into you. The way he’s driving into you and hitting your spot at this angle feels so good, you feel the pleasure bubbling in your pit again. You raise yourself up a bit to rub at your clit, pushing your orgasm forward as San’s movements begin to get sloppy. “Shit, Y/N.”

“San, cum for me.” You egg him on as he begins to pant. Hearing him praise you and call your name pushes you over the edge once more, hands gripping at the sheets while you shudder from the second orgasm taking over. San quickly pulls out and unloads onto your ass, back.

“God.” He huffs as he gives himself one last pump and pants heavily. “So good for me. You okay, pretty girl?” His hand comes up your back, leaving a random trail of kisses along the way.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath.

“Let me clean you up. Don’t move.” He quickly runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes. “Gonna be kinda cold. I’m sorry.” He apologizes in advance before taking a wipe to your back.

“That feels kinda nice.” San chuckles, allowing you to lay back on your bed first before slipping in next to you post-cleanup.

“You feel nice.” You laugh, laying your head on his chest while he grabs his phone.

“So, what time are you guys heading to the club tonight?”

“I don’t know. Probably between 9-10pm?”

“You know there’s an event tonight, right?”

“I heard.” San laughs. “Some male dancers are guesting at the club?”

“Yeah. They’ll be on the second stage, though.” San nods, a few texts coming into his phone. You can’t help but glaze over the previews, back to back texts coming in from a ‘Noelle.’ The messages aren’t too lengthy, but she is texting him quite a few times and the previews alone are enough to make your stomach twist and turn.

It’s making you anxious, and for some reason, your gut tells you this Noelle is significant to San.

He’s not trying to pay attention to it right now though, and it’s probably just because he’s in your company post-sex. He briefly looks at the messages at the top, thumb coming up to swipe them away.

“Is it just you guys?” You ask, wondering if San would open up to you otherwise.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure. Unless Mingi invites other people.”

“Mmm, okay.”

“I’m excited to see you on stage again.” He looks down at you with a smirk.

“Yeah right.”

“Swear. Everyone knows I’m only there for you. It’s kinda nice to show it off.”

“Show what off?”

“That you’re mine.” He winks, making your heart melt into a puddle. You hate that San gives you these signals, but there hasn’t been much to it besides seeing each other occasionally outside of the club and fucking each other’s brains out.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Who said I didn’t mean it?!” You shake your head and turn to your side, now going through your own phone. San gives you a kiss on the shoulders, hand coming up to rub your arm while he continues to plant random kisses at the nape of your neck, below your ear, jaw.

“Sannie, what are you doing?” You giggle, ticklish from the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Kinda want you again.”

“Are you serious?” You turn to look at him and he smirks.

“Can’t help it. You drive me crazy.” His hand comes down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Wanna keep taking care of you.”

“Do you, now?” You tease, letting San continue to kiss you; hand coming down and ghosting your clit. You decide to let San have you once more before he’s struggling to part from your lips, even as he’s about to head out the door.

You blush watching him leave, excited to show off and see him tonight.

The night comes rather quickly because the club is incredibly packed with all sorts of people making their way in to see all of the dancers. You’re having to entertain on stage, deliver drinks and give a few private dances. It’s nothing beyond what you’re already used to doing, but the clientele is booming tonight and you’re constantly moving around all ends of the club.

It’s a little past 10pm when you catch wind of Mingi, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung. And for a minute, your eyes light up. San immediately plops onto a chair, legs spread as he smirks. He gestures for you to come over with his finger and lightly taps his lap, making you giggle to yourself while you continue to perform a few tricks on the pole.

“Gorgeous.” San eyes the high-cut bodysuit sitting on your body, showing off all your curves beautifully.

“You made it.” You crouch down in front of him, hands trailing up his legs.

“Of course, why would I miss out some more?” He winks, stuffing a few bills in the slit of your bodysuit while you stand lean towards his ear.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“You?” You laugh.

“Cliché.”

“Kidding, baby.” He bites onto his bottom lip. “Can we get shots of whiskey?”

“All four of you?”

“Yes please, pretty lady.” Hongjoong smirks. “Bodysuit looks good on you.”

“Openly hitting on San’s woman is crazy.” Wooyoung laughs loudly.

“Just complimenting her.”

“Yeah, keep it up.” San teases Hongjoong.

“Thank you. I’ll be back.” You smile at Hongjoong before stepping over to the bar to grab their shots. At this point, it feels like everything happens so quickly; the following moments, the rest of the night— all a blur. When you return to the four, they’ve added a few more to the group. And this time, it’s a group of 5 girls— one that is in a heated conversation with San off to the side. You slow your pace, watching as she clings around his waist, but he gently shoves her off and shakes his head. He heads back to his seat and she welcomes herself on his lap, ignoring everything that he had just done to her moments ago. San doesn’t seem entirely pleased being that he’s been trying to distance himself from her, but to no avail— you’ve already returned and he panics.

“Here.” You hand them their drinks, handing San’s last.

“Noelle, seriously. Can you please get off my lap?” Noelle. You can’t help but feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, though you’re trying your best to brush it off in the heat of the moment.

“You’re such a killjoy.” She whines, sitting on the edge of the chair.

“Thank you, love.” His look is unreadable when he reaches for his glass and so is yours. But, San knows you saw everything and he knows it all looks wrong. It, all of this, must seem so fucked up to you right now and he wishes he could just pull you aside to clear up the air.

“Thank you, Miss Crimson.” Mingi raises his shot glass to you.

“Is that the stripper San is into?” You overhear one of the girls ask, followed by a:

“He’s not serious, right? Her?” Noelle scoffs and you subtly roll your eyes, getting ready to head back to the bartender. You weren’t gonna let this girl get to you. Not today.

“Have a good night.” Is what you tell Wooyoung in passing, making him flash San a look shortly afterwards.

“Don’t think she’s too happy about Noelle being here.”

“I didn’t know they were actually coming either.” San glares at him, trying his best to shake off Noelle and continue to create some distance. He truthfully didn’t think Noelle and her friends were coming along. Mingi had briefly mentioned the event to them, sliding in a stupid joke about how much San loves coming solely because of you. She didn’t take it lightly, hence why she decided to come along even though their initial plan was to head to the regular club down the street.

When San sees Noelle, he’s pretty irritated. The last time she was texting him, she was blowing up his phone about shit from the past and their relationship. Quite frankly, he no longer has energy to deal with her and he’s tired of the back and forth. He doesn’t wanna start any issues tonight since it seems too late to brush them off and he doesn’t wanna dampen the mood. He knows how clingy she gets and he knows how she can act when she feels him slowly slipping from her grip, especially if they’re together in person. The last thing San wanted to do was upset you, nor did he want you to think of him as an asshole who only wanted you for one thing.

That was not his plan.

He knows you’re not happy and he knows he fucked up for even trying to brush this off, for hiding Noelle when he had no reason to.

“You aren’t actually into the stripper are you?” She questions San and he furrows his brows.

“It literally isn’t any of your business.”

“Wow, so you are? I came out tonight, hoping we could—”

“Oh god, enough of that shit. Not here.” Wooyoung sighs. “Let’s go enjoy ourselves, that’s the whole point of tonight, right?” Wooyoung tries to push his bestfriend to the main stage, leaving the girls to enjoy the men on the second stage. You’ve continued to deliver a few drinks around the other room before stepping back onto the main stage. In your peripherals, you can see San eyeing you; almost pleading for you to swing by his way.

Except, you don’t, and you start to entertain a few men on the other side of the stage. San feels his blood boil a little when he sees you giving your attention to another man, knowing full well you were doing this on purpose.

And you were. You weren’t exactly sorry about it.

Because you didn’t have time for this bullshit, and your job still needed to get done. At the end of the day, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

The reality is hitting you more and more tonight.

It makes you feel stupid for having thought otherwise, for letting the possibility live longer than it should’ve.

You’re not sure if you have time to entertain someone who has all that baggage.

San comes around to see you in better view, watching as you crouch down with your legs cocked open; swiping two fingers across your tongue before running it over your [barely] clothed pussy. San clenches his jaw when the man in front of you leans forward with a huge smirk on his lips, holding a roll of bills in his hand.

“Uh oh.” Wooyoung instigates. “I told you so. In true Choi San fashion.”

“Stop that.” Wooyoung shrugs.

“Noelle’s here, hoping she could be the one to go home with you tonight. And that one—“ He points at you over his glass. “Thinks you’re toying with her emotions. Pick a fucking battle.”

“I already told you I was done with the whole Noelle thing. She doesn’t get it for whatever reason.” San slightly groans and clicks his teeth. “Why did Mingi invite them, anyway?”

“I don’t know? I can’t control that boy’s mouth. Besides, you know he’s been trying to get with Donna after those dates didn’t go well.” San sees you dip into a private booth with the guy, shutting the curtains closed without looking his way. He takes a sip of his drink, stepping closer to the stage to try and enjoy himself– ignoring the possibilities of what’s going on behind that curtain.

The club feels suffocating, and he wants out.

Especially when you seem to be taking your time in the booth.

“You wanna head out? Noelle and the girls wanna head down the street now. Said they’re bored of the guys already.” Mingi asks, pointing at the girls getting ready to head out to the next club down the street.

“Already?” Hongjoong cocks a brow up. “We literally just got here.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re over it.”

“I mean, whatever. Just don’t ask me to leave the other club hella early.” Joong rolls his eyes. “Whose bright fucking idea was to invite them anyway?” He glares at Mingi.

“Sorry! I wanted to be nice and extend the invite. I didn’t think they’d be over it so quickly.”

“Right, you wanted to be nice and get into Donna’s pants.”

“Do you wanna stay back?” Wooyoung asks in San’s ear, but all San can do is shrug. “We don’t have to go with them.”

“Let’s just go, I’ll never hear the end of it if we stay back.” Wooyoung simply looks at him in return.

“Let’s go!” Mingi yells. San subtly looks back to try and see if you’re out of the booth, but Mingi is already shoving him towards the door– towards Noelle and her friends.

“Choi San, hurry up!” Noelle whines as she waits for him.

“Noelle, you don’t have to wait for me. You can go with your friends.”

“Why are you acting so mean tonight?” She tugs on his wrist, but he snatches it out of her grip. “It definitely can’t be about her, right?”

“Go have fun with your friends and I’ll worry about my own.” San doesn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but he’s truly tired of the back and forth between Noelle. He hates that she acts this way, and he hates that she’s here. He feels like the night has gone to waste because he won’t be able to fully enjoy himself.

On top of that, you’re livid with him.

Speaking of you— You’ve kept yourself close to the pole even though your client has asked you for a lap dance. Once, twice, maybe even thrice. He’s attractive, but your mind is glued to San and how terrible this night ended up playing out for you. Luckily, the client doesn’t seem to fight much against it; as long as he gets his fix of you somehow, he’ll take it. Tonight’s one of those nights where you’ll stay for the full 45 to get the extra money, to hide away from the rest of the crowd.

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Invert and lean back.

Five, six.

Gently fall into the splits.

Seven, eight.

Bounce your ass on the stage.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He says, gently palming himself through his pants, forcing you to mask the disgust you feel watching him openly do that. Though, you’ve seen worse and you’ve trained yourself to have the thick skin needed in this industry. Right now, it hits differently. Because of San, because of Noelle.

Because of everything.

“You sure you can’t come down here and get on daddy’s lap? I think I’ve slipped you enough money to at least get a lapdance.”

“Sorry, not doing that tonight, love.”

“Aw, why not? Not even for me?”

“Not for you. Or them.” You say, bending over to at least give him a peek of what he wants.

“You sure you’re not saving it all for someone else?”

“Nope.”

“Gonna have to come back on a better night then.” He bites his bottom lip. “You’re my favorite. I swear you drive me crazy.” The statement is enough to trigger San’s voice in your head, causing you to rush through the last bit of your pole dance before thanking the man for his time and tip.

When you step out of the booth, you no longer see San and his group and it instantly makes your heart clench. You didn’t know what to expect tonight, but you definitely didn’t expect San to leave so quickly with his friends—

With Noelle and her friends.

Now, you’re back to square one. You feel like a mere distraction, something that temporarily fills the void; nothing more, nothing less. You quickly head to the back to get some air and a moment to yourself, finding a few texts from San:

san: Y/N, i’m sorry. i didn’t know they were coming. mingi just invited them and didn’t really say anything about it.

san: i know you’re probably wondering about her and i can explain. it’s really not what it looks like.

san: let me know when you’re off? i wanna take you home still.

san: i wanna talk to you and see you. please.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you shut off the phone and ignore the texts. Even if you wanted to answer back, even if it fucking pains you to re-run through those texts, you keep your head up and throw on a brave face for the rest of your shift.

San is still your kryptonite, and you aren’t sure where to go from here.

You need to leave quickly enough to avoid running into San tonight.

Guess you’d be taking your usual walk alone.

You managed to dodge San and his friends on your way home that one awful night, ignoring his calls even as you’ve gotten comfy and tucked in your bed. San continued to blow up your phone into the next day until he realized you weren’t gonna answer him anytime soon.

And it sucked.

But, you needed to hold your ground. You needed to go back to the Y/N who worried about her own, the Y/N who didn’t let anything faze her even if she was hurt by loved ones, by friends.

You needed to go back to the Y/N who kept it real with herself and was proud of how far she’s come despite the ups and downs.

You hadn’t seen San come to the club, and it was probably his way of giving you the space that you indirectly asked for. And indeed, you needed this.

You needed to go back to the old Y/N and reprioritize.

“Hey baby.” Mia says, hand on the small of your back as you dab a bit of lip gloss onto your lips.

“Hey.”

“How’re you doing?” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“I’ve seen better days.” You let out a chuckle.

“You haven’t texted him back?” You shake your head.

“No. I don’t really know what to say. I just feel kinda dumb. Maybe we were just meant to be a thing in passing.”

“Don’t say that. I know he had some feelings for you, and I know the situation was unique. But, nobody would go through all that effort if it didn’t matter to them.”

“Mm, yeah, He just has some baggage he has to deal with and I don’t think I have time or energy for that.”

“For all you know, it could just be her.”

“But, why hasn’t he officially let her go then?” Mia pouts a bit.

“I think he’s over it. He didn’t seem all that interested in her at all.” She nods. “Talk to him, hun. Let him explain. It might just be a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She gives you a reassuring smile.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, babe. Thanks.” You give her a toothless smile, letting out a small squeal when she slaps your ass.

“Now get out there and do your thing, the clients are waiting.” You chuckle and shake your head, taking one last look in the mirror before you head out to the main stage. You strut your way across the floor, doing your usual sweet talk with a few of the men lining the stage. You take the stage for a bit and do your usual routine, letting them slip their bills wherever they can under your gear, or shower the stage with a few more extra tips. Just as you were getting into the swing of things, you catch San walking in by himself. You almost lose track of your thoughts, distracted by how good he looks. He’s sporting simple slacks and a gray-striped button up with chelsea boots, rolex on his wrist. He looks around the club before his eyes land on yours, and you suddenly feel like you’ve lost the ability to move, to dance.

▹ FLASHBACK

“I’ve never seen you this sulky. It’s kinda annoying.” Wooyoung plops next to San on the couch, watching as he slouches and lazily texts back on his phone.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m assuming she’s not answering your texts or calls yet?”

“Nope.”

“Down bad.”

“Are you here to help or to get on my nerve?” San glares at his bestfriend.

“Why don’t you just go see her?”

“I don’t wanna cross boundaries and be in her space, especially if she’s already not answering my texts or calls.”

“Maybe this is what she needs, though. She’s probably still assuming shit about Noelle. Which, by the way, I hope you ended it. For real.”

“I did. That’s why she was hella upset during the last half of the club and I left.”

“I thought you left to go after Y/N. Where exactly did you go?”

“I mean, partially. I was gonna go after her and bring her home, but I was too late. The other half of me was pissed off because Noelle kept crying and trying to gaslight me. I told her I didn’t wanna do this anymore. Was tired of it. I told her we just don’t work and it’s time for us to move on.”

“‘Bout time you realized.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I know you have love for her and I know she meant a lot to you, but that girl is crazy. You continued to feed into it, too.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Just go see Y/N, dude. You look terrible.” San flips him off. “I mean it. If you want shit to change, then keep taking initiative.”

“I just don’t wanna scare her off. I already fucked up enough with this whole Noelle thing.”

“Damn, what did Y/N do to you?” Wooyoung laughs. “I truly didn’t think you’d end up finding your boo thing at the strip club. I’d like another thank you if this all goes well.” He smirks. “Thank you Wooyoung for making us go to the club on my birthday.” He says in a sing-song tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” San sighs. “I’ll probably head to the club tonight and try to talk to her.”

“Want me to come? Moral support.” He shakes his head.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be good.”

▹ END

You quickly head off the stage and head to the bar, switching gears to take a break from the stage. You scurry along, hoping you aren’t making it too obvious that you’re trying to deflect and avoid San yet again.

But, he knows.

“Y/N, hey. Wait.” San says as you brush past him, hand gently coming to your wrist. You wiggle out of his grip, giving him a look as you continue on to the next room. “Y/N.” He continues to call, hurriedly following after you. “Y/N, please.” He says as he comes to your side while you gather a few drinks onto your tray.

“San, what? I’m working.” You respond, still keeping your attention to the drinks.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Because.”

“Because, what? I didn’t mean to leave early without saying anything to you that night. I wanted to come back and take you home.”

“Oh, but Noelle didn’t let you, right?”

“Y/N, please don’t do that. That’s not even what happened—” San has his hand around your wrist again, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out.

“Aye, come on, my guy.” An unfamiliar man from the crowd comes in between you and San, ripping his hand away from your wrist. “Care to share? Stop being so selfish and gatekeeping her—”

“The fuck are you?”

“I see you come into this club with your friends, acting all high and mighty. You heard what I said.” He steps closer towards San. “Stop being so fucking selfish with her, hm? She’s for the crowd, baby’s meant to be shared—” The man suddenly slaps your ass and it turns a switch on for San. San pushes him away, causing the other man to lose his footing before attempting to swing at him.

“Stop that!” You try to yell, hoping it’d somehow break them apart. San is quick to dodge the first swing, but he gets unlucky with the second. San is quick to regain his composure, throwing a punch to him and causing him to fall to the ground. He towers over him and continues to lay a few more punches while you yell at security for assistance. “Quit it! San, stop! Stop it!” You repeat, prying him off of the man on the floor. “San!” You grip his bicep and pull him back.

“Fucking idiot.” San spits, hand coming to his jaw to ease the soreness.

“Get them out of here!” You tell security and San furrows his brows at you.

“Y/N—”

“Out. Now!” You repeat yourself, following after security as they get their hands on both San and the other guy, escorting them out of the club. One shoves the other man through the front entrance, while the other shoves San out of the side entrance. You’re already following behind, signaling for security that it’s okay for him to leave you alone with San. He gives you a curt nod as he walks around the corner— giving you enough distance that allows privacy, but also allows him to step in if necessary. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I wasn’t gonna let him talk about you like that, Y/N. Don’t ask me that fucking question.”

“It’s my job.” You remind him. “I meant what are you doing here?! Why did you come here, San?”

“I came here to talk to you!” His tone raises. “You aren’t answering my texts or calls, and all I wanna do is make this right. What do you expect me to do?”

“Let it go.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, San. What is it to you, anyway?”

“Are you serious?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “If you would just give me one second to talk to you—“ He pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Y/N. All I want to do is talk to you and explain. I don’t wanna leave things like this.” He lowers his voice and steps closer to you.

“Then talk.” You cross your arms and shift your weight from one foot to another.

“Y/N, me and Noelle are done with. We’ve been done with for awhile. She’s my ex and we’ve gone through some shit but it’s over with.” He lets out a breath, the air cold and crisp against your skin. “Mingi invited them that night, and I just didn’t wanna cause any issues between us and ruin the night. She threw herself on me and I had been asking her to stop. I didn’t ask her to do that, nor did I want to entertain it. I shouldn’t have left with them though, I knew how that would look, too. I’m sorry. I promise you it meant nothing. I even told Noelle she needed to move on that night. I came back to the club, but you had already left.”

“San.” You shake your head. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why me?”

“Y/N, I really do like you.”

“But, that’s the problem. You don’t even see the issue with this.”

“What issue?!

“Us! That’s the fucking issue, San! We come from such different lives, does that not bother you? We’ll never be on the same page, we’ll never work.” San furrows his brows, trying his hardest to take the blow even though it hurts to.

“Why would you say it like that? I don’t care about how different our lives are. That doesn’t matter to me–”

“It does to me!”

“Why?! I don’t care what people think and so shouldn’t you! Wouldn’t we be enough?”

“It’s so easy for you to say because you don’t know what it’s like to be on my side of things.”

“Then, let me know!” San raises his voice before running his hand through his hair. “Y/N, I would never take advantage of you. Never in my mind did I ever think of you that way. Why won’t you let me be here for you?”

“Because San, you had me thinking I was stupid. I felt like you were here for one thing, and it made me question everything about myself, my life. I hated feeling that way. I even compared myself to Noelle at one point.”

“She’s nothing to me! I’m sorry for having hid that from you, but I didn’t think much of it at the time since the whole thing caught me off guard. She means nothing to me, and we’re done with. I’m sorry.” For some reason, you are torn. You want to believe San, and there is a small part of you that does. However, you still can’t get over the fact that he still kept her close for lord knows how long. What if he was balancing you both at the same time? How could you know he was for sure over her and that this wasn’t just a phase?

“What if this is just a phase to you, huh? What happens when you realize how much we don’t work? That we’re just too different? That maybe she or someone else is a better fit for you all along.” Your bottom lip trembles and even though you try to hide it, San catches on. “This is my life, and it won’t change for awhile.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth and choosing how I should feel. That’s not how this works. I caught feelings for you, Y/N. Genuinely. None of our differences mattered to me, and it won’t ever. I’m sorry you felt that way and that was never my intention.” San says calmly, but god, is he terrified right now. He is anxious. Nervous. Scared. And as much as you wanna cave, you remember you are outside of the club in the freezing cold.

Arguing with San.

“San, you know what? This is enough.”

“Y/N.” He pleads through his tone.

“Please just go home.” You point at the side door before nervously rubbing at your sides. “We should talk about this another time. Not here.”

“O-okay, so are you gonna answer my texts or calls then?”

“I’ll text you, okay?” You look at him with some remorse. Right now, you don’t think you’re ready to talk to him and you probably need to sort out your thoughts before the next time. Or else, you’ll continue to try blaming him, the situation. You’ll continue to deflect, you’ll continue to let San’s words brush over your head because you aren’t used to this genuine attention— these genuine feelings, genuine intentions.

San doesn’t say anything else, but his expression makes your heart break more. You let out a sigh before turning on your heel to get back into the club and finish your shift. As soon as the door shuts and acts as a barrier between you two, a few tears escape your lids. You quickly brush them away and shake off the feelings, storming out onto the main stage to finish your night strongly.

You need Jongho.

“This fucking sucks.” You tuck your knees to your chest as Jongho sighs and pours you another shot of tequila.

“Why don’t you text him, Y/N? Just talk to him.”

“I’m kinda scared. And nervous.” You take the shot with him.

“Why? He’s literally waiting for you to text him. You’ve just been big sad over him too, don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘hey, can we talk?’ maybe?” Jongho gives you a look before shaking his head. “I love you, but dude. Get it together. You should just talk to him and stop putting yourself through this. You obviously like the guy and he feels the same way. The whole thing with his ex was just a misunderstanding, too. What exactly are you trying to put off?”

“I think I’m just scared. You know how it was with my ex. He wasn’t nice and also made me feel ridiculously stupid and incompetent for my decisions. Even after the break up.”

“Yeah, but he’s your ex for a reason. San is not the same person.” Jongho pours you another shot. “I understand you’re scared. But, you can’t shield yourself off from everything forever. I truly think he’s a genuinely nice guy.”

“Plus, I worry about him too. How would his friends feel about us being serious? His family, his sister?”

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine. San isn’t even worried about that, nor does he seem to care. It doesn’t matter where you come from. They should be able to see what kind of person you are and the heart you have.”

“Mm, yeah. I just worry too much. I don’t want my life to bleed into his and ruin the shit he’s built for himself.”

“It won’t. Jeez, you aren’t a criminal Y/N. You’re great at everything you do and you’re incredibly talented. You have a lot of qualities that could take you far.” There’s another pause, enough for you and Jongho to take the last shot to the neck before you pull out your phone and click on San’s text thread.

“Fuck it.”

“Exactly.” He sips on some soda to wash down the tequila burn. “By the way, I’m never talking about you that way again.” Jongho visibly shudders, making you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

you: hi, sorry for the random text. can we talk?

You toss your phone aside and dig your face into your hands, nervous about the text back. Granted, it’s only been close to a week and a half after the whole thing went down at the club. Time moves so fast that part of you felt terrible for making San wait in general. But, it should be a testimony to how he truly feels about you.

“What if he’s over it?” You groan into your hands.

“Then at least you know, right? You can close that chapter and move on.” Jongho takes a bite of his chicken. “Highly doubt it though.” At this point, the phone dings behind Jongho and he’s quick to grab it for you— flashing you San’s name on the screen.

“Fuck.” You whine.

san: hey. don’t apologize. of course we can. should i swing by your place soon?

“I’ll drop you off in a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re good? I can ask him to pick me up.”

“Actually, yeah. Ask him.” You chuckle as Jongho pours another shot for himself.

you: yeah, but i’m at jongho’s. do you think you can pick me up?

san: yeah i can, love. just send me the address.

“He always gets so sweet. I can’t do this.” You send San Jongho’s address.

“Yes you can!” Jongho responds. “Here, drink.” He pushes your water glass towards you. “So you don’t feel like shit later.”

san: on my way. 20 mins.

“Thanks for the food and drinks. For letting me be a crybaby. You know, the whole nine.” Jongho chuckles and nudges you on the arm.

“I got you, dude. You’re my bestfriend. I won’t let you go through these things alone.”

“I guess I’ll keep you updated?”

“Take your time. And just be honest with him, alright? Be straight up about how you feel with everything.”

“I will.”

When San arrives a bit after 20 minutes, you grab your things and bid your bestfriend farewell. You feel nervous, palms sweating the more you fiddle with your fingers and head down the steps to San’s car. Once you catch wind of him, you pause in your steps just to give yourself a tiny breather before committing and approaching his passenger door. He’s in a black shirt and sweats, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey.” You say as you climb in, San giving you a small smile.

“Hey. You good to go?” You buckle your seatbelt and nod, allowing San to drive off to your studio. “Did you work at the shop today?”

“Mhm, I worked an earlier shift to get off at the same time as Jongho.”

“You guys just hung out?”

“Yep. Drank, ate some food. Talked about some things.”

“Some things?”

“You.” You give him a look and he nods.

“Fair enough.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Work. I’ve been working from home lately since there isn’t much requiring me to come into the office.”

“Been busy?”

“Yup, but I’ve seen worse days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He lets out a small chuckle as he continues to drive on. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet, but nothing feels weird or awkward. It’s surprisingly a comfortable silence and it’s probably due to the fact that you two have missed each other even though you’re both still trying to gather your thoughts.

When he pulls up into a spot on the street, San shuts off the car and immediately runs to your side to help you out. He follows behind as you lead the way, quietly unlocking your door and tossing the keys off to the side. San sits on your couch and lets out a sigh, watching as you plop next to him after grabbing some water.

“Want anything else to drink?”

“I’m okay.” He gives you a small smile. You turn to face him, a leg tucked under the other that’s swung over the edge of the couch.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course.”

“Can we talk about what’s been happening? I just really need you to be honest with me, that’s all I ask.”

“I’ll always be honest with you, Y/N. It was never my intention to make it seem otherwise.”

“Well, after everything, I did feel pretty stupid. You knew I was already doubting myself after I lost my family and friends because of my decisions. For a second, I felt like you tricked me and that I was stupid not to realize you only wanted me for one thing.” San shakes his head, but he continues to let you talk. “I started questioning myself more and I hated the feeling. I knew I couldn’t be enough for you, or that I was completely different from girls in your past. And it felt terrible. I couldn’t help but jump to conclusions that night because who am I compared to her? I’m living such a different life and I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you realized that.” You shrug. “Anyway, I felt shitty because I genuinely had feelings for you even though I was scared. I still am, especially because I don’t know if this is just a phase or what.” You feel the tears pricking your bottom lids again but you do your best to prevent San from catching on. You look down at your hands, fiddling with your sweater sleeves. You feel San shift closer to you, his hand coming up to your cheek.

“Can you look at me please?” Your eyes shift back up to him, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach the moment you two lock eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He says softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I really didn’t mean to. That whole thing Noelle—” He sighs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a ride with her. But meeting you and getting to know you made me realize how much I didn’t wanna be stuck in that anymore. It made me realize how much I craved normalcy with someone, something that doesn’t have to be so sad and toxic all the damn time.” He lets out a breath. “I know it sounds dumb that it took me all of this to realize, but I mean it. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels good.” He does a subtle nod. “I feel happy and good around you.”

“San, you just scare me.” A few tears stream down your cheeks and San is the first to catch them; gently wiping it away while he keeps his eyes locked onto yours. “Our lives are so different, I can’t help but worry about how this is gonna make things turn out in the future. Your family, your friends—”

“My friends are fine, they know how I feel about you. And my family knows they can’t dictate everything about my life. You—” He pauses. “Y/N, you aren’t any different just because of what you do. What matters is the kind of person you are, how you genuinely make me feel. None of that matters.”

“You know it isn’t gonna be that easy.”

“So be it. I know you’re scared, but I’m with you on this.” He runs his other thumb across your lip. “We can figure this out, okay? We can take this slow and figure it out together. I’ll stop heading to the club with the guys and be there for you in many other ways. Just know that I’m gonna support you no matter what, I’m not like everyone else. Fuck all of them.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. You can’t help but lean into his hand and let out a shaky breath, kissing the palm of his hand before returning your gaze on him. His smile grows, making him plant an eager kiss on your forehead, to the tip of your nose.

Lips.

“Are we okay?” He whispers against your lips and you nod. “Can I have you then?” He whispers against your lips in between another kiss. “Make it up to you?” Another kiss. “Show you how I really feel?” You nod, giving San leverage to scoop you into his arms and carry you to your bed. He gently lays you down and is quick to shed off your clothes, admiring every inch of you. San tosses his glasses onto your nightstand before placing random trails of kisses along your body, kissing every scar, every curve, every tattoo; everything about you still continues to drive him crazy. Today, San takes his time. Though he’s eager to show you how you make him feel, he decides he’s gonna take his time with you.

Even when he laps at your pussy, your clit, making you cum within minutes of being positioned in between your thighs.

Even when he rocks his hips into you— it’s a slow and steady pace, enough to make you feel every inch of him.

Even when he sits back onto his knees, letting you ride him.

His hands run up your sides while your hands are tangled in his hair, rolling your hips against him steadily, slowly, letting him feel every inch of you. He moans against your neck before placing wet kisses on the surface, hands now gripping tighter as he feels himself nearing his high. Everything is so intimate, so raw, so close— San can’t keep his lips off of you and hearing your moans bounce off of the walls adds to the pleasure. Your clit is rubbing deliciously against him, causing you to bite onto his bottom lip before tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He groans in between open-mouthed kisses. “Be my good girl and cum with me.” You furrow your brows in pleasure, hands gripping his jaw as you continue to deeply kiss him, your climax heightening at your gut.

“Sannie.” You whine, unable to form any thoughts.

“You know how to fuck me so well. You’re perfect.” He hisses, the pleasure almost feeling too intense with how much he’s having to hold back. You start to rock your hips at a messier pace when you feel yourself climbing, moan loudly and gripping the ends of San’s hair when you finally come undone. He almost whines when he feels you twitch against him, hissing at how good you feel wrapped around him. San quickly lays you back and pounds into you, releasing his seed and painting your walls white.

The both of you stay stationary for a second, panting and regulating your breathing once you’ve come back down from cloud nine. San brushes the hair away from your face and adoringly looks into your eyes, placing a kiss on your lips before slowly sliding himself out of you.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” He jogs over to your bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting for the water to reach a perfect temperature before grabbing you.

While in the shower, San makes sure to lather your body with soap, giving your back and shoulders a good massage before rinsing off. You follow suit, giggling when you plop a few bubbles on his nose and cheeks. The best thing about the shower is that San doesn’t pressure you for more, no. He showers you with kisses, surely showing you just exactly what you mean to him through the action alone.

After the shower, you climb into bed with San, letting him take you into his arms while you turn on some music to softly fill the background. He gently strokes your hair, and hums along, keeping you close in his warm embrace.

“San.”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I want to do in the future?”

“What’s that?”

“I wanna own my own dance studio and teach. Help people grow their confidence and embrace their sexiness.” San chuckles. “You know? People get shy about these things or hide because they feel like they can’t dance or be sexy.”

“You’d be an amazing teacher for that.” You giggle.

“Hopefully one day.”

“We’ll make it happen. No matter how long it takes, hm?” He hums. “I got you.” You look up at San and stare at the galaxies he holds in those beautiful, brown orbs. What you did to deserve someone like San, you’ll never know— but you’ll take it as a gift from the universe; a gift that shows how proud the universe is of you for never giving up and for staying true to yourself.

For once, everything feels right. Everything seems to be where it should be. Everything in your life, as it is now, is what’s meant to be. And out of all the changes the universe has brought you, you’re at least thankful for this; for that moment San walked into the club, for the moment you took the first leap.

“You got me?” You tease and he nods.

“I got you.”

▹ taglist: @itsvxlentine @vantediary @certifiedmoa @asjkdk @bintificreads @frobin4ever @persphonesorchid

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suempu · 8 months ago

Text

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

#alien stage #ivan x reader #alien stage x reader #x reader

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stevesgother · 2 months ago

Text

I Don't Want You Like A Bestfriend - S.H

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.3k

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, reader not liking large gatherings, swearing, alcohol (reader works at a bar). As always, let me know if I missed anything!

AN - Part 2 of the Dress mini series! This could technically be a standalone fic, but for the full context I would recommend reading part 1 :)

Dress Series - Pt 1, Pt 2

December 1987

2 bowls of popcorn and 4 movies later, you’re laying on opposite ends of your twin bed with your best friend; gossiping lazily with droopy eyelids.

“I cannot go to their wedding without a date, Rob.” looking at her exasperated, “That’s like, totally embarrassing! Steve’s gonna have this Madonna-ey, bombshell blonde and with giant boobs and I'm gonna bring who? My cousin? Not happening.” You say with finality.

“Well forgive me,” Robin deadpans. “I only know like,” She gestures dramatically, trying to count in her head, “7 boys!”

May 1985

Immediately upon opening your eyes, you’re met with the blinding pain of your too big brain bouncing around inside your skull and a foreboding sense of dread upon recalling the way you behaved the night before.

You could only remember bits and pieces of the wretched night, but you were humiliated nonetheless. Had you said something you shouldn’t have? Your stomach churns at the thought and briefly you fear you might yak again.

A few weeks later, you were walking the stage, diploma in hand. Steve had broken up with Nancy Wheeler the week following prom. Feigning some bullshit about him leaving for college; not wanting to do long distance. Those cliche, overused excuses that everyone knows loosely translate to “I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve didn’t even get into tech, unbeknownst to Nancy. He was dodgy when you asked him about their breakup. “I just felt like we didn’t make sense anymore, you know? But it-” he sighed, ��it’s just, it’s not like I could say that to her.”

You didn’t want to push the subject further, despite your bewilderment. Part of you felt desperately guilty at the idea that you may have been the catalyst for what happened to their relationship. You didn’t dare ask, though. Maybe you didn’t want to know, or maybe you just didn’t want to make it about yourself.

December 1987

The Wandering Dog was especially busy tonight. Folks trying to escape their in-laws for a few hours during the holiday season, college kids home for break trying to get wasted; and all of it was your problem. The pay was nice, you made good tips bartending. Right as you watch someone knock over an entire tray of drinks, a familiar head of hair makes its way to sit in front of you at the bar. Distracting, but not enough to suppress the groan that leaves your throat when it dawns on you that those drinks are your mess to clean up later.

“Steve-o,” you force a smile at him, “what can I do for ya on this..lovely evening?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite lady without needing a reason?” He lilts.

You try not to let on how flustered you feel at his usage of ‘favorite lady’.

“You hate this bar, you’re also technically banned-” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand “Still? Seriously? It was one time-” Your turn to interrupt, “No actually, year prior? That was your first warning.” You’re met with a roll of the eyes, forgetting how utterly sassy he’s become in the last few years. You can’t decide whether you love or hate the development.

“I actually uh,” he runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit, “I wanted to ask you something,”. You look at him quizzically, unable to pinpoint what's caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Okay…” you draw out the last syllable, more confused than unkind. “Spill it Hairspray, you’re kind of freaking me out.” you give an awkward chuckle. Your friendship is hardly what you’d consider serious. Sure, you’ve had your share of late night, existential conversations; but you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve made the other actually nervous.

He clears his throat, “sorry yeah, sorry. I was wondering uh, ifyouwouldbemydatetojoyceandhopperswedding.”

The rest of his sentence comes out as one jumbled word. You do a double take when you finally process what he’s asking, and you choke a little on the Coke you were sipping. “What?-”

“-As friends!” he blurts loudly as his hands shoot out in front of him in a defensive gesture, “obviously, as friends. That’s- what I meant.” his words lose confidence every time he opens his mouth.

You stare for a little too long, mouth hanging open like a trout. “You don’t..already have a date?” You hope he doesn’t take offense to the inquiry. Steve Harrington can most certainly find a plus one to a simple wedding.

“Yeah I- something like that,” his mouth opens like he’s going to explain further before deciding against it; settling on a lopsided smile instead. He’s terrified he’s blown his cover. If he had given any effort at all to the endeavor, surely he would’ve been able to find a date. Fancy car, rich parents, million dollar smile and his infallible charm. The problem was that he didn’t want to go with another Heidi. Another Jessica. Another Stacy.

He wanted to go with you.

Even if it meant just as friends. You two were just friends.

Joyce and Hopper’s wedding was at Pokagon State Park, and the drive up was less than stellar. 3 hours stuffed inside a cramped BMW with Robin, Eddie, and Vickie. You were fortunate enough to be riding shotgun next to Steve for the trip, Eddie muttering something about ‘date privilege’.

When you arrived at the cabin you’d be sharing with your 4 friends, you were a little mortified. There was a room for Vickie and Robin, and Eddie claimed the pullout couch almost immediately. This leaves one more room. With one bed. For you and Steve Harrington. It’s possible Joyce may have misinterpreted the reality of your situation when booking the rooming accommodations.

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it. You guys had had sleepovers before, but almost never in the same bed. His house had a plethora of guest bedrooms, and your father would be found dead before he let a boy sleep in your room, even at the ripe age of 20.

We’re adults, you think. We can be mature about this.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it before you’re being stuffed by Robin into a too tight, wine red bridesmaid dress.

“I feel sick,” you say, groaning. “Do not barf on me,” she warns with a stern look, though you can tell she’s not really annoyed. “I really like these shoes.” Despite the itchy fabric of the dress and the obnoxiously loud color, you do look breathtakingly beautiful. Red has always been your color.

“Hey dingus! Stop gawking and zip me would you?” Robin lightly kicks you with her bare foot, taking you out of your own head. When you exit the bathroom, you’re immediately met with the 2 boys. Even Eddie, who you don’t believe you’ve ever seen not in ripped jeans, cleans up nice.

Steve looks…strapping. Not handsome in the boyish way you’re used to. He’s all slicked hair, cufflinks and well-pressed wool. He meets your gaze and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly. An arm is offered to walk you to his car. He smells like cinnamon and cedar, woodsy and spice. He opens the passenger door for you and God, he’s a gentleman.

It’s going to be a long night.

The venue was terribly charming. Floor to ceiling windows highlight the snow falling outside in big, fat flakes over the water. The room was lit entirely by yellow string lights, casting a permanent warm hue over the lodge.

On a table clad in lace, there were 5 notecards scribbled on in cursive ink. The one that adorned your name was directly adjacent to one that read Steve Harrington. They were paired with party favors wrapped neatly with a white silk bow.

Steve wanted to pull out your chair for you. He wanted to sit beside you with his hand in yours. Hell, he would’ve bought you a corsage if he thought it appropriate. A death by a thousand cuts; he was again reminded of the fact that you were not his, and he was not yours.

You were unable to identify the source of the nagging anxiety you felt. You were never partial to big gatherings like this, but the unease you were experiencing now was different. All you could do was relax, and try to enjoy the reception. Try not to pay mind to the stark, masculine presence sitting beside you.

The newlyweds’ first dance was to the beloved ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ By INXS. You think about how remarkably fitting a song it was for them and everything they had endured together. The restlessness you had previously felt started to steadily fade after that; laughing and chatting with your friends. It started to feel..normal, for a while.

Just then, like some sick esoteric joke, you hear the unmistakable beginning notes of ‘I’ll Be Over You’ by Toto. When you turn to your left, Steve has a poorly concealed, shit-eating grin on his face.

In the most sober tone he can muster through his unseriousness, he asks, “Can I have this dance?” while extending his hand to you. He prays you don’t notice it trembling slightly. It’s the undeniable corniness of his request that manages to strangle a laugh out of you.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With one hand delicately placed on your hip, he threads the other one with your own fingers as he starts to sway. You clumsily try to match his rhythm; so nervous that you’re becoming uncoordinated. His chest is nearly touching yours, and your noses are a hairsbreadth apart. It feels profoundly intimate.

'as soon as forever is through, I'll be over you.'

He leans his head down so his lips just brush your ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

You scoff, unconvincingly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You know he can see right through you. It’s fruitless to try and deceive him.

“You just seem,” he gives your waist a small squeeze, “a little tense.” You swallow hard.

“Just say the word and I'll take you home.” ‘Home’ meaning back to the cabin. Not the comforting safety of your own bed back in Hawkins. You appreciate his earnestly either way.

“I know, Steve.” you lilt, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment with a teasing tone. You rest your head against his shoulder, if only so you don’t have to keep holding his all-consuming gaze.

Despite the thermostat being set at a comfortable 75 degrees, you were still shivering slightly. You always ran cold. You stood in front of a dusty vanity mirror trying to extend your arms behind your back far enough to unzip this godforsaken dress.

You felt him more than you saw him. Steve’s presence displaces the air in the room as one does to water when they sink down into a steaming bath: noticeably, and comfortably. You pay him no mind as you continue to struggle with the zipper. Mulling around the same room; busy with your separate tasks, this was familiar to you. Not often did you have to acknowledge the other for them to know you were grateful for their company.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks, slightly amused as he saunters over to you.

You hesitate for a moment before looking over your shoulder and offering him a shy smile, “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” You know he doesn’t.

His scent envelopes you like a thick fog when he approaches you. His calloused fingers pinch the clasp and pull it down its tracks slowly. The sound is piercing in the quiet of your shared room; your senses dialed up to 11. You can feel his warm, freshly minty breath fan over your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Your arms erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.

He stands there, he realizes, longer than he needs to.

“Okay I’m gonna-” “There you go-” you both speak at the same time.

You huff an awkward breath of a laugh before you finish your thought, “I’m gonna..go change.” you throw a thumb behind you in the direction of the ensuite. “Right, yeah,” he shakes his head as if to escape his own thoughts; his turn to act shy.

Lying in bed, you’re suddenly grateful that Steve has always been something of a personal space heater. The warmth he radiates makes you want to curl into him, against your better judgment. The silence in the room is deafening; the only sounds to be heard are rhythmic breathing and the creaking of the ancient plumbing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, no doubt from the boisterous singing he’d been doing earlier in the evening. Still, you’re grateful for the crack in the wall that's been plastered between you.

“I like secrets,”

“I hate weddings.”

The stiff fabric of the pillowcase crinkles as you turn your head to look at him.

“I am happy for them, it’s not that,” he starts, “it’s just, what if it’s never me up there ya know?” It’s not that he’s scared he’ll never marry; it’s that he’s scared he’ll never marry you.

You want to reach out for him then. Hold his face in your hands and tell him you understand. There are so many unspoken words between you. Things unsaid, but implied. The desire to yell and scream and confess how much you love him is overwhelming.

“Steve. You’re only twenty,” smiling lightheartedly, “there’s so much time for you. There are plenty of women out there that would be delighted to swear themselves to you for eternity. Believe me.” You chuckle and pretend like the reason you know that to be the truth isn’t because you’re one of them.

“I know, I know,” he brings a hand up to card through his bed mussed hair, “you’re right, it’s silly.”

“I didn’t say it was silly,” you elbow his side gently, consequently moving your body closer to his.

He doesn’t say anything then. Instead, his hand cautiously moves over the bed until it’s touching yours; intertwining your pinkies. He doesn’t breathe, as if any sudden movements might scare you like a frightened doe. If he breathes, you might remember you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re,” he pretends to ponder, “32, will you marry me?”

You laugh, the unexpected loudness of it making you cringe a little, “yes,”

“Promise?” He sounds deadly serious.

You tighten your pinky around his, “Promise.”

323 notes · View notes

orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.��

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

2K notes · View notes

mrkis · 1 year ago

Text

you'll never find anyone like me — one. (l.dh)

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x afab!reader GENRE: college au, fluff, mature WORD COUNT: 14.9k

SYNOPSIS: you’ll never find anyone like lee donghyuck, and that’s what makes him so exciting.

CHAPTERS WARNINGS: slow burn(ish) type, so much plot & way too much dialogue, alcohol consumption, explicit language, a lot of mentions of donghyuck being obsessed, heavy tension between reader and donghyuck, mentions of parties & drugs, donghyuck comes across as very straight forward and also flirty, pretty people make reader nervous lol (especially donghyuck), tension between two main characters but no smut yet.

AUTHORS NOTE:: its finally here!! i'm so excited to start this series with you all, thank you for your patience!! also, for anyone new, this is linked to my 'NEO TECH COLLEGE' jaemin series 'the way life goes' although this can be read as a standalone.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

It wasn’t exactly ideal enrolling into class halfway through the year, knowing you’ll have to go through that godawful stage of trying to make friends with people who already have chosen their own clique to spend the rest of their college years with.

You’re, unfortunately, the new student, the one that’ll be singled out during group projects or the one they pick last for the group because they didn’t want to choose you first… you really don’t know which one is worse.

Looking for a place to settle down was a close second to being one of the worst things to do after enrolling late. You didn’t have enough money to live by yourself and you sure as hell didn’t want to live with someone you hardly even knew, but you had to pick one, so you went with the latter.

Areum was actually the sweetest (and coolest) person you have ever met.

She welcomed you into her two bedroom apartment with open arms and even helped get you settled into your new room by offering to unpack your boxes and decorate the way you preferred, allowing you to have all the creative freedom you needed to call this place your home too.

Areum had even taken time out of her own busy schedule to show you around, letting you know about all the best food joints, best places to go to get coffee, best album stores to get your preferred music and even the best hangout spots.

It was, undoubtedly, a lot to take in.

Areum even introduced you to Minjun, a childhood friend of hers who is a college dropout and now the drummer in a two-man band with his older brother. (They’re pretty good, even though the older brother scares the shit out of you).

Minjun was the complete opposite of Areum yet they were alike in so many ways, it was easy to make friends with him just as it was with Areum. Minjun was sceptical of you at first though, but he immediately warmed up to you when you complimented his drum set to which he then showed you how to play. (You had no idea, but it was fun).

You cherish the friendships you have made with the two deeply even though you felt like you were intruding at the beginning, especially when you realised how long they have actually known each other and how close they are. But the pair happily invited you into their small friendship with big grins and playful jokes.

You were grateful to be starting something new with people who you felt instantly comfortable with, you were excited to see what your time in college had in store for you.

“Shit!” You repeatedly curse under your breath as you hurry across campus grounds with your bag strap sliding down your shoulders and your phone held tightly in your grip, staring down at the time that shined angrily at you due to your lateness.

Being late on your very first day wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience, but the pressure of getting everything ready and the stress of overthinking lead you to being exhausted and oversleeping—you wanted the ground to swallow you up when you received the mass texts from Areum asking if you made it to your class in time.

You fix the strap on your shoulder as you rush into the building, eyeing the signs on the walls that would easily lead you to your music class and you groan when you realise it’s at the far end of the building, breaking out into another sprint and you’re grateful there’s no one around to see you make a complete fool of yourself as you run.

Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the time and you look back up to make sure you’re going to right way but you curse under your breath when you realise you’re heading straight towards someone’s back and you don’t even have time to stop yourself or control your speed, already bumping into them at full force which causes them to stumble forwards from the impact.

The person they’re with steadies them and you manage to get a quick glimpse at the girl who’s looking at you in shock before the victim spins around, his eyes angry and ready to curse you out but you don’t even notice how his eyes soften when he looks at you as you’re already profusely apologising to him.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I—fuck—I didn’t mean to fall into you like that, I’m just late and—”

“It’s fine.” The girl cuts off your rambling, sending you a reassuring smile as the guy continues to stare at you and you nod, mumbling another quick apology as you turn your head and see the door to your assigned class, quickly slipping through the door and letting it close shut behind you, heart racing rapidly in your chest at the full class of students who briefly glance at you before returning to their work.

The Professor looks up from his computer when you enter the room, gazing at you over the rim of his glasses and he gives you a welcoming smile, beckoning you over with his hand and you head straight towards him, getting ready to apologise for being so late but he’s already opening his mouth to speak first.

“I’m surprised you’re starting halfway through the year, but I’m happy to have you in this class. Welcome,” He smiles warmly at you and it instantly makes you feel better, your shoulders relaxing with a breath of relief as you smile back at him thankfully. “I’m Professor Kim Hongjoong. I’ll be your music Professor during your time here and if you need any help with anything, I’d be happy to give you some guidance… although, I have to encourage my students to ask one another. Team bonding type of stuff.”

“Noted.” You laugh lightly with a nod, adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

“Great.” Professor Kim grins up at you.

He dismisses you to a seat at the far back of the class next to a boy whose face is shoved into his computer screen, chunky headphones resting on his head as his fingers dance across a piano keyboard, nodding to the notes that play smoothly in his ears and you pull out the seat to sit beside him, sliding your bag off your shoulder and letting it rest by the legs of the chair.

Capturing your seatmate's attention, he turns to look at you and gives you a warm and welcoming smile, pulling the headphones from his head to rest around his neck. He introduces himself as Xiaojun and he takes the opportunity to point out everyone in the room to let you know their names, and even though it didn’t exactly help and you sure as hell wouldn’t remember everyone's names, you were grateful at least.

“How come you enrolled in the middle of the year?” Xiaojun suddenly asks you and you give him a sheepish grin in response. He raises a questioning brow, “Wasn’t going to enrol or something?”

“Something like that.”

“Interesting.” Xiaojun hums and he turns his head back to his computer screen while your attention is brought towards the classroom door that swings open, and embarrassment immediately washes over you when you recognise the guy that steps inside, the one you had forcefully slammed into on your way here.

You sink down into your seat in hopes to avoid him to keep your own dignity and your brows pull together in confusion when you see his eyes glance around the room, tilting his head to the side in thought and tongue prodding at his cheek as he scans over the row of seats before he finds you.

His lips curl into a smirk and his eyebrows raise in a way that has your heart thumping rapidly in your chest, immediately drawing your attention away from him when he drops down into a seat beside Yangyang, (a guy that Xiaojun had pointed out to you when filling you in on everyone’s names), who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice his presence.

“Donghyuck.”

“What?” You hum, glancing at Xiaojun when you hear him mutter.

“That’s Donghyuck, the one that just came back in/” Xiaojun tells you and you made a small noise of acknowledgment, taking another peek over at him only to avert your eyes away when you realise he’s already looking at you and you feel hot, a little embarrassed and awkward at being caught.

“Has he got a staring problem or something?” You catch yourself mumbling under your breath and your eyes widen when you hear Xiaojun snort, completely capturing what you had just said and you groan, leaning back into your chair with a frown as Xiaojun looks at you with an amused smile.

“Something like that.”

The class surprisingly goes by quicker than you thought and both Professor Kim and Xiaojun were kind enough to fill you in on what you’ve missed so far, and what’s coming up soon. Luckily, as you enrolled in so late, you were excused from the upcoming assignment but were given a side task to write down everything you had knowledge of, including the instruments that you’re skilled in playing.

You found it quite simple and you’re positive you can jot down everything tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later on. You’ve always been eager to please, so there was no way in hell you were going to leave this until the last minute.

You rise from your seat and grab your bag, slipping the strap over your shoulder as you subconsciously peer over at the other end of the room, your heart thumping wildly in your ears when you catch Donghyuck’s eyes already looking back at you while talking to Yangyang, leaning back on the desk with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and leather jacket draped over his arm.

His deep and intense gaze makes you feel nervous and you find yourself fidgeting in your spot, unable to tear your own eyes away from him, locked under his stare and the smirk that he gives you sends goosebumps rippling down your spine.

It’s when he pushes himself off the desk that brings you out of your trance, panic flooding through you when it seems like he’s about to advance towards you but he stays in his place when a hand carefully touches your arm, causing you to quickly turn towards the person that wanted your attention.

Xiaojun’s smiling warmly at you, but you’re surprised when you see that he’s not alone and instead, there are two other guys standing with him.

One wears a green hoodie beneath a grey jacket and matching coloured jeans, a beanie on his head with blue strands of hair peeking from beneath. The round, thin framed glasses on the bridge of his nose makes him look cute, yet the boyish grin he gives you makes you feel a little flustered and you move your attention to the other boy beside him.

He’s a lot more quiet and awkward, opting to give you a tight lipped smile as a greeting and nodding his head to say he’s acknowledged you. You’re not surprised by his shy demeanour𑁋especially with how he’s refusing to make eye contact and how his fingers nervously fiddle with the bracelet dangling on his wrist.

“This is Mark,” Xiaojun points to the one in the hoodie. “And this is Jihoon,” He points to the other before he turns to you and gives you a smile, “These guys are who I spent the majority of my time with, unfortunately”

“You love us, dude,” Mark’s boyish grin returns as he pats Xiaojun’s shoulder who playfully rolls his eyes and Mark looks at you. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch if you want?”

“Oh, thank you,” You smile appreciatively but it slowly drops when you realise what you had planned already. “Can I join you some other time? I have somewhere to be today.”

“Of course you can.” Mark’s grin widens as his hand removes off Xiaojun’s shoulder to gently knock yours and you grow nervous under the small contact, a shy smile spreading across your lips as you bid them a silent goodbye, brushing past the trio to get to the door and your mouth goes dry, your nerves amping up to a hundred as you once again meet Donghyuck’s eyes from his position next to Yangyang, how he watches you with a hint of intrigue and interest swimming in his irises.

You miss the way his eyes snap towards your new friends with a locked jaw, tongue prodding at his cheek as you leave the room.

Watching Areum work has always been fascinating to you: in awe of the talent that pours out of her hands and the patience she has when it comes to sculpting certain objects and/or people for projects or just to pass the time, how every piece is precise and perfect𑁋a complete masterpiece.

It’s the look of determination and joy that seals the deal for you, how happy and content she seems to be whenever she’s in her zone, and having the opportunity to witness her working in the studio at college for the first time is definitely the highlight of your already long and interesting day.

You bite into your lunch as you watch her from behind get her hands dirty while sculpting her recent project, soothing out the curves of a woman’s body that she has been putting together while humming a tune that plays quietly from the radio on the windowsill beside her.

Areum takes a step back to admire her work, a sound of approval slipping past her lips before she decides to take a break, unzipping her black overalls halfway to take her arms out of the sleeves and tying them around her waist securely so the rest doesn’t fall down completely, allowing her tattooed arms to be freed and on show with her white shirt.

“Did you make it to your class in time this morning?” Areum asks you as she leans against the open window, pulling her strawberry vape out of her pocket to take a drag and you shake your head, causing her to chuckle lowly. “I thought Minjun put an alarm on your phone before he left last night?”

“I slept through it,” You say bitterly, taking another bite of your lunch as she clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Thinking about today got me stressed and I overslept. Ended up almost being an hour late and not only that, I practically body slammed someone because I rushed to get to class. It was embarrassing.”

“Ouch,” Areum teases while scrunching her nose up, taking another hit out of her vape and blowing the smoke out of the window. You roll your eyes, twisting the cap on your bottle of water to take a sip. “Made any friends in your class though?”

You side eye her, “You sound like my mother,” She smirks at you. “Got to know this guy called Xiaojun. He introduced me to his friends Mark and Jihoon just before class ended. I only know those three so far.”

“Good,” Areum hums with an approving nod. “I know Mark and Xiaojun, I’ve bumped into them a few times… don’t know Jihoon though.”

“He’s kinda quiet,” You admit, remembering your very brief encounter with him. You smile, “He didn’t say anything but he seemed welcoming at least. They offered me to join them for lunch but I said I already had plans today.”

“You ditched them to hang out with me?” Areum looks at you with a blank expression and you nod, giving her an innocent grin as you finish off the last bite. “I don’t know whether to thank you or call you stupid.”

You swallow thickly, “I know you better than them so being with you right now is the safest and comforting option to me. I’d like to get to know them more eventually and hang out with them… but it’s kind of hard to do that when I get shy and awkward around people I don’t know.”

“You did well with me and Minjun,” She praises you and you feel your cheeks grow hot at that, trying to fight the smile that threatens to slip onto your lips. “But don’t worry, you got this. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

“I’m not going to rush,” You tell her, resting your chin on your hand as you look over at her, your other hand tapping a mindless tune on the wooden table. “I’m taking everything slowly.”

It took you just over a month to get comfortable in your new college.

You managed to remember everyone's names in your course and despite not talking to some of them, they had become easier to remember overtime.

Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon never left your side during classes and just like Areum and Minjun, they also welcomed you into their group with open arms and jokes that had you laughing until your stomach cramped up and tears pooled in your eyes.

Jihoon became a lot more open with you as you did him. He was just like you—shy and awkward around people he barely knew or wasn’t comfortable with yet, didn’t want to speak up or take control of the conversation in fear of saying something silly, but when getting comfortable with the people it was non stop talking and cracking jokes, even pitching a few sarcastic comments here and there to make others smile.

Xiaojun and Mark were similar—outgoing and confident, striking up conversations and making friends as if it was the easiest thing to do, making others feel invited and welcomed although there was a few moments where you see their shy tendencies come through the cracks, noticing how shy Xiaojun got when being compliment on his voice when singing a song to himself under his breath and when Mark gets shy when he receives unwanted attention from others that compliment his work or his looks.

Aisha, a girl in your class, was one of the people that would compliment Mark over and over again, making him flustered and cheeks grow red with each word and giggle that slips from her lips. She’s gorgeous, so it doesn’t surprise you that Mark gets shy easily when she comes near.

Aisha is one of the people you haven’t properly spoken to yet. Her sociable and popular presence leaves you a little intimidated. You’ve shared a few friendly smiles and some small words in passing, but you haven’t had the courage to speak to her fully.

You, admittedly, like to admire her from afar. Seeing how confident and friendly she is, how she teasingly flirts and prettily smiles at others who conversate with her, how her delicate hands play with her healthy hair that cascades down her back, how her siren-like voices lures people in when she’s talking or even singing.

It makes you jealous, but not in a bad way. You could only wish you had the same confidence and likeness.

Donghyuck is another person you haven’t spoken to yet. You feel nervous being in his presence, how his intense gaze leaves you speechless and unable to think properly. How his lingering touches on your skin leaves goosebumps running down your spine every time he brushes past you to either get to his seat or if he was just walking by in the hallways.

He glances over his shoulder each time, lips curling into a grin, dark eyes piercing through you as he meets your eyes and takes in your appearance, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip before it tucks between his teeth as he takes in your outfit of the day.

Even if you’re wearing something that completely covers you, he makes you feel bare.

Xiaojun is the one that tells you to stray far away from Donghyuck, that he’s nothing but a ‘slut who loves attention and flirts with any living thing’. Mark did however clap back and told Xiaojun that he himself loves the attention too, which caused Xiaojun to jut out his bottom lip in a pout and turn away, but Mark mentioned how Donghyuck can be a little crazy sometimes and to try and not let his continuous stares and actions get under your skin.

You agreed, saying that wouldn’t be the case, even though you’re lying through your teeth already.

He is getting under your skin, leaving his mark on you and truthfully, it’s interesting.

You will never admit that out loud.

“Why are you being so quiet?” You hear somebody ask you suddenly and you rip yourself out of your thoughts, blinking at you try to see where the source of the sound came from but you let out a huff as a weight is knocked against your shoulder, hissing as you turn your head to see Minjun who had dropped down to the sofa to sit beside you.

He’s grinning at you in greeting but mumbles a quick apology when he realises he’s hurt you, rubbing the sore area before pulling his hand back to pull his phone out of his pockets.

You stay silent for a moment, staring at him as he mindlessly drums his fingers against the side of his phone as he reads a text and you immediately recognise it as the new song that he and his brother have been working on, the corner of your lips stretching into a smile.

However, his drumming comes to a sudden stop when Byeol pounces up on the arm of the sofa on his left, staring at Minjun with his tail slowly swishing behind him before he steps down onto Minjun’s thighs to find the perfect spot to rest and Minjun clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance.

“I hate this cat.” He grumbles under his breath despite raising his hand to pet Byeol behind his ears, loud purring noises rumbling from his chest. Minjun glances at you, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” You mutter as you reach over to pet Byeol too.

“About why you’re being so quiet.”

“There’s no reason,” You tell him truthfully, smiling as Byeol nuzzles his head into your palm. “I was enjoying the silence and just thinking about some things.”

“What things?”

Your eyes snap to him, teasing in your tone, “None of your business.”

“Ouch. You wound me,” He speaks monotone, pulling his hand away from Byeol to adjust the beanie on top of his head. “I have a show this weekend at Cherry Bomb, you’re coming right?”

“Obviously,” You hum. “Me and Areum never miss your shows.”

“Lucky charms,” Minjun grins, raising his hand with his pinky outstretched and you snort, wrapping your own pinky around his and squeezing tightly. “EJ and his girlfriend are coming too so we’re going to grab a few beers with them after it, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me,” You nod, retracting your hand from his to pet the cat who’s now climbing into your own lap, rubbing his face in the cotton of your shirt. You purse your lips in thought, “Can I invite people?”

Minjun raises his brow in interest, “Who?”

“Just these guys I’ve made friends with—they’re on my music course,” You briefly explain but you feel the need to go further as Minjun continues to stare at you. “They saw my Instagram post at your show a few weekends back and they asked about you, and they said they’d be interested in seeing you play and—”

“They can come,” He cuts off your rambling, grinning up at you and your brows pull together when he nudges your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask, you know. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Seungwoo will be happy to see some new faces listening to our music.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Just the usual,” Minjun shrugs. “Worried about the number of people showing up to watch, the amount of unfinished songs he’s written, stuff with our parents too… they’re not exactly supportive of me dropping out of college and him leaving work to pursue music. They say it’s a waste of time.”

“But you’re good at what you do,” You tell him truthfully with a kind smile. “Both of you. You’re booking out bars and performing in front of big crowds almost every weekend, I say that’s pretty impressive.”

The corner of Minjun's lips lift upwards, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looks at you, “You think so?”

You nudge his shoulder, “I know so.”

Minjun breaks out into a full smile this time and he nudges you back as a small gesture of a thank you before he shifts in his seat, getting comfortable leaning against the cushions as he resumes scrolling through his phone.

You relax into him, peering your head over his shoulder to watch the screen as he shows you his current Instagram home page filled with musicians, concert photos and the occasional selfie of those he follows. You hardly recognise any of them, apart from the few Areum had posted and EJ with his girlfriend, but you still wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and make flirty comments when you see the sexy mirror pictures posted by some.

Minjun just rolls his eyes and tells you to be quiet, huffing as he angles himself away from you.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” You hear Areum’s teasing voice from behind and you crane your neck to see her make her way over to the both of you, a fluffy white towel wrapped tight around her body and another wrapped around her hair from her previous shower.

She sits in the single loveseat opposite, crossing her legs beneath herself to get comfy and a smile slips upon her lips as Byeol meows loudly, jumping down from your own lap and to find comfort on hers, nuzzling himself in her towel and Areum holds him to her chest, stroking his fur and cooing softly.

“I’m always here.” Minjun gives her a grin.

“Unfortunately~” Areum hums, pressing gentle kisses on the top of Byeol’s head and Minjun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.

Areum grins, already feeling proud at already getting under her best friend's skin but you knew deep down that it was just a little joke, knowing first hand how they always bite at each other to try and get one of them to react and lose, adding another point to their mental tally chart.

She coos as she talks to Byeol, scratching below his chin and rubbing behind his ears as you smile at the sight, hearing his loud purrs resonate from where he’s sitting on her lap and Areum’s phone that’s been gripped in her hand vibrates loudly, causing her to pull away from Byeol for a moment to check her screen.

You watch as her brows raise slightly, a smirk spreading across her cheeks and her bottom lip gets caught between her teeth, thumbs quickly tapping against the phone before she raises her head up, looking over at you with an unfamiliar glint in her eye.

Your face scrunches up, confused. “Why are you looking at me?”

Areum cocks her head to the side, “How do you feel about experiencing your first college party tonight?”

The sight in front of you is definitely… something.

The house is a lot bigger than you anticipated, expecting to be brought along to a little apartment or even a club for your first official college party, but Areum had thrown you into a complete loop as she brought you to a not so little apartment or club that was already filled with drunk college students, some already even sprawled across the front lawn messily making out or even staring up at the sky giggling to themselves.

However, you grimace a little when you see someone come stumbling out of the house with their hand clamped over the mouth, barely making it towards a bush before emptying out their stomachs with the most gruesome of sounds.

A guy comes jogging out of the house shortly after with a water bottle in hand and his phone in the other, your mouth starts to feel a little dry, the attractiveness and confidence that oozes from him as he comes closer stuns you for a moment, the shyness taking over you when he grunts and squats down to tend to the drunken person with their head shoved into the bushes.

The tight black fitted shirt he wears shows off the muscles beneath, how they bulge and tense when he reaches out to caress the person’s back as they retch loudly and your eyes can’t help but shift to his thighs, how the pants are tightening around them which each movement and you gulp, pulling your attention away when you feel Areum slip her arm through yours.

“Seems like you got your hands full already.” Areum speaks first with a teasing tone that’s directed towards the guy and he raises his head, dark eyes glistening under the night sky as he grins at her.

“You got that right,” He chuckles softly, putting the water bottle down on the grass to run his fingers through his dark mullet, gazing at you. “You’re new. I’ve never seen you here before. I’m Jeno.”

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you with a hum and a nod, then he smiles and wishes you a good time at the party before turning back to the person who had seemingly stopped throwing up, ordering them to drink the bottled water and saying how he’s going to call a cab for them to get home safely.

Minjun, who had been quiet this entire time watching every thing unfold, gently pushes your shoulder to get you to walk and Areum pulls you towards the house by your arm, the loud music blasting inside already hitting your eardrums and you’re instantly hit with the smell of alcohol and weed when you enter.

The inside is a lot more chaotic than the outside, you conclude.

Sweaty bodies pressed against each other as they dance or makeout, some even fondling each other to which you immediately avert your attention away when they glance your way. Others are in small groups talking and even playing drinking games, you can just about see a group playing cup pong from where you’re standing at the entrance.

Minjun leans down to murmur in your ear, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s…” You pause, pulling a face. “Something. Very crowded. There’s people everywhere.”

Minjun’s chest rumbles with a laugh, “And this isn’t even the half of it.”

Your eyes widen at the possible fact of there being more people in the house, already feeling overwhelmed and Areum’s hand slides down your arm to take your own, lacing her fingers through yours as she helps weave you through the crowds, Minjun hot on your tail as he follows behind.

You glance around while she leads you both to wherever she wants to go and you spot a couple lounging together on the sofa, the pretty blonde smiling at her boyfriend who’s gently tucking her hair behind her ears as he’s mumbling something to her and she nods, causing the boyfriend to grin and clink his drink against hers.

“Here,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention and your turn your head to look at her when you feel her hand slip from yours, noticing that she’s brought you to the kitchen where only a few partygoers are standing, nursing their drinks and chatting with friends. Areum opens the cooler and passes a beer over to Minjun who dips his head in silent thank you before turning to you, “Want a beer? A seltzer?”

“Beer.” You’re thankful she hands you one that you’re familiar with, the ones that the three of you have shared in your apartment during movie and game nights, immediately cracking it open to take a sip and the satisfying burn and flavour that that runs down your throat has you smiling.

It unfortunately doesn’t take long for you to start to feel out of place, your back pressed against a wall in the far corner of the kitchen as you watch Minjun smoke with a guy you overheard is called Sunwoo, a dopey grin smile spreading across his cheeks every time someone had waltzed up to him with money in their hand for one of his baggies that he takes out of his pocket to slip into theirs.

Areum had politely excused herself from you a few moments prior to greet someone you somewhat recognise as one of her previous hookups, watching as Areum’s hand slips around her waist to hold her close to her body and the girl lets out flirtatious giggles, winding her own arms around Areum’s shoulders as they whisper in each others ears.

You sigh, pursing your lips as you take a glance down at the beer in your hand, shaking the can slightly to feel how much drink was left for you to drink and you frown when you notice it’s empty. You push yourself off of the wall and discard your empty beer in the overflowing trash can, opting to open the cooler and grab another to keep yourself preoccupied but you’re startled when another hand reaches in too, brushing against your own.

“Oh, sorry—” The voice pauses mid sentence and you glance up, your eyes widening in surprise when you see Xiaojun staring back at you with a similar expression. “It’s you!”

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile, excitement flowing through your veins as Xiaojun gives you a welcoming side hug, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Xiaojun pulls back to adjust the backwards cap on his head, not before running his fingers through his hair. You take this moment to take in his appearance, surprised to see him out of his knitted sweaters and chinos which is replaced with a loose fitted grey tank top and dark jeans, showing off his physique which caught you off guard immensely, not expecting to see the muscles.

“My roommate told me to tag along,” You briefly explain to him, pulling your eyes away from his arms and he hums in understanding, handing you a beer before grabbing one for himself. “Are Mark and Jihoon here too?”

“Jihoon’s at home. This isn’t his, uh—” Xiaojun waves his hand around comically. “—type of scene, you know. Mark’s around here somewhere though, lost him when this girl tugged his arm wanting to speak to him in private.”

You make a small noise as you nod your head, assuming that it was another student proclaiming their attraction towards Mark as you have witnessed many times before, feeling bad every time Mark had rejected them even if he was sweet with his words.

The confidence that people had to confess their feelings to the person they liked always made you jealous, wishing you had the courage to admit your own likeness towards someone but you could never get it out, knowing that the words would constantly get stuck on the tip of your tongue and the fear of rejection wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience.

So you always held back on telling people how you felt, especially if you liked them. But yet again, seemingly lucky for you, there has never really been anyone that you’ve truly liked. You’ve had small mindless crushes that you knew would lead into nothing and you’ve been in the presence of a few attractive people that definitely make your heart flutter, but it’s never enough to make you want to confess.

A gentle touch on your arm brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head to see Minjun standing beside, a gesture to show that he was finally back with you and you couldn’t have been more happier to have more people at your side, giving him a smile to which he returns, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“Oh. You’re the guy.” Xiaojun speaks up, eyebrows raised to his hairline in shock as he points at Minjun who looks back at him, seemingly confused but he slowly nods anyways which makes you snort quietly, finding the sight comical. “The drummer from that band, the one on her Instagram—LŒV, right?”

“Yeah,” Minjun hums in surprise before he makes a noise of realisation, piecing two and two together. “You must be one of the guys she told me about, that wanted to come see us play this weekend.”

You zone out of their conversation when Xiaojun praises him for his musical skills, the pair diving deep into the music discussion which usually you would’ve participated in any of time, but you find yourself getting distracted as you watch Areum delicately stroke the back of another girl that she’s talking with, pulling her in closely to whisper in her ear and laughing when the girl pushes her shoulder playfully before tugging her back in.

Your attention however pulls away from the pair when Areum places two fingers beneath her chin to bring her in for a kiss, feeling awkward to give them an audience and finding interest in a potted plant in the corner of the room, your lips quirking up into an amused smile when you see a drunk cradling it like a newborn, stroking the leaves and cooing.

The sight in front of you is hilarious and you would’ve taken out your phone to take a picture it if wasn’t for the fact you didn’t know this person, not really wanting to be caught and questioned taking pictures of someone you barely knew even if it would make a great memory… and definitely a great birthday card.

But your eyes flit away from the drunk to the guy that you met outside. Jeno, you remember his name. He strides into the house with a dark wet patch over the front of his clothes and an empty water bottle.

First, you grimace at the thought of that person he was taking care of outside throwing the water over him in a drunken fit, but then you feel a little warm and flustered when you realise that the water had made his shirt and pants stick to him more than it originally did, outlining his body perfectly, defining the muscles beneath the materials.

“Why are you ogling Jeno?”

“I’m not,” You immediately defend yourself, attention snapping back to Xiaojun who's already staring back at you with an amused smirk, raising his eyebrow. “I’m not.”

“Pretty sure you are,” Minjun joins in this time and you harden your gaze at him, causing him to grin. “You like him?”

“No.”

“He’s attractive, for sure,” Xiaojun hums, taking a glance at him over your shoulder and watching him as he disappears up the staircase, probably to change out of his wet clothes. “I wouldn’t get too close to him though,”

Now that piques your interest, “Why?”

Xiaojun opens his mouth, ready to tell you what you’re surprisingly desperate to hear until he closes his mouth, brows rising in shock when you feel someone's arms slip around your shoulders to bring your back into their chest.

You immediately recognise it as Areum, the sweet citrus smell of her perfume overwhelming your senses and you turn your head to the side to see her already smiling at you, giving you a comforting squeeze before letting you go to stand beside you to greet Xiaojun.

Xiaojun seems hypnotised by her beauty just like many others are and it doesn’t surprise you, the beauty and the confidence that radiates off of her is enough to have your own heart thumping in your chest and feeling shy whenever she meets your eyes or gives you a pretty smile.

“I’m Areum,” She introduces herself as she reopens the cooler to fetch herself another beer. “Her roomie.”

Xiaojun whispers back in a daze, “Hi roomie.”

The look on Xiaojun’s face was comical when it slipped into conversation that Areum wasn’t interested in men, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock as he profusely apologised, worried that his dazed look and minor flirtatious comments made her uncomfortable but she shook her head, laughing as she explained everything was fine and that he had no way of knowing her preferences.

Still, the trio got along quite well and even Mark, who joined in a few minutes prior after complaining about how he was locked in the bathroom for five minutes, got along with Areum and Minjun too. It made you smile, seeing the people you liked getting along with each other and exchanging socials and numbers, it also made you miss Jihoon a little bit, wishing he was here so you could introduce them to your duo of friends.

However, you did make a mental list to remind yourself to text Jihoon tomorrow morning and tell him you’d add him to the groupchat that Xiaojun was desperate to make.

It doesn’t take long for you all to split from each other too: Areum grabbing your hand to steal you away for a little while and you were surprised that Minjun didn’t follow behind like he usually does, but you were happy to see him so comfortable enough to stick around with Mark and Xiaojun who were happily discussing music techniques and even other bands they both seemed to enjoy.

Areum brought you to the living room this time where the music blasted from the stereo, making it a lot harder to hear what she was saying to you but you managed, opting to lean in close so she could whisper in your ear and you did the same.

You’re feeling awkward and uncomfortable now though, nursing the third beer in your hand as everyone around you either dances or heavily makes out with the person they’ve come with or even just met, finding it hard to focus your attention on anything as in every corner you look, you see people wrapped up in each other.

A gentle touch is placed on your arm, “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” You hum, looking at Areum who is staring back at you worryingly. “Why?”

“You’ve gone quiet,” She points out and a frown makes its way onto your lips, “Want to go home?”

“What? No. It’s fine,” You quickly shake your head. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” Areum chuckles softly and when her gaze flicks over your shoulder, you see the surprised look on her face. “Seems like you’ve got an admirer tonight.”

Her words have you making a noise of confusion and she nods in the direction of your so-called ‘admirer’ and you’re embarrassingly quick to whip your head around, not making your movements subtle at all which she snorts at in amusement.

Your heart thumps loudly in your ears as you spot Donghyuck manspreading on the sofa a few feet in front of you, long dark hair hanging over his eyes and a joint resting between his lips which he inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs for what seems to be an eternity until he exhales, passing the joint over to Yangyang all while staring directly at you.

You feel hot beneath his intense stare, the dress you're wearing now seeming a little too tight and revealing that you subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself to cover up, not missing the way Donghyuck’s lips curl into a smirk before he brings a bottle up to his mouth, chugging the alcoholic beverage.

You clear your throat, “That’s Donghyuck.”

“I know.”

Your head snaps towards Areum in surprise, “You know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Areum laughs lightly as she puts down her empty beer can on the windowsill. She presses her lips together as she leans back against the wall with her hands shoved into her low cut jeans. “Everyone here pretty much knows Donghyuck. He’s best friends with Jeno and that group.”

“Jeno…” You repeat the familiar name and you jab your thumb in the direction to where he’s standing, now dressed up in something completely different than last: wearing a white and dark grey ombre dress shirt with the buttons left undone, revealing his toned chest. You couldn’t look at him for too long without feeling flustered. “Him?”

“It’s his house—” She pauses, “Their house. They all live together, all five of them. But the sixth one recently moved out to live with his girlfriend.”

“Oh,” You blink, the curiosity inside of you building. “How do you know so much about this stuff?”

“They’re well-known,” Areum shrugs nonchalantly. “Some might say popular, I guess. Everyone pretty much knows everything about them… For starters, Jeno is the main guy that throws all these parties. He’s kind of a gym freak and he’s secretly really smart, he’s an engineering student. Jeno’s also one of those quote unquote ‘renown fuckboy’. He dated Miwoo for a long while—she’s the black haired one wearing a pretty black dress—but they broke up,

“Jaemin is one of the quiet ones, kind of mysterious in some ways too. You’ll hardly ever see him that much though, but he does appear every now and again to be around Jeno—they’ve been best friends for years. He’s a photography student who used to be in a serious relationship with a girl named Eunbin but they broke up. He did end up having a friends with benefits relationship with one of the girls in the group and then they got together, she’s currently away on a writer's trip,

“Renjun’s also one of the quiet ones, more of an observer. He sits in silence the majority of the time but he’s mean when he wants to be, plus doesn’t exactly take shit from anybody either so he can be kind of intimidating to some people. He’s an art student, some of his work is showcased on the walls in the art department. He’s also dating the pretty blonde that he's sitting with his arm around right now—Haru,

“Shotaro is the friendly and cute one that constantly smiles no matter what type of situation he is in. He’s pretty chilled out, carefree. He’s a dance student too… a really good one. He’s practically the baby of their group—everyone has a soft spot for him. He did however end up getting into a fight with Hyunjin because Yeji—Hyunjin’s ex—kissed him at a party. But even though Hyunjin was the one that threw the first punch, he ended up looking worse than Shotaro thanks to Yangyang who jumped in,

“Yangyang is another renown fuckboy, practically fucks anyone with a pussy between their legs. I’m almost positive he has slept with the majority of the girls in this room. He drinks and smokes weed a lot, and recently he’s been taking some harder stuff until he can’t physically function too. He once had a crush on one of the girls in their group—Jaemin’s now girlfriend—but nobody really knows what happened between them. I’m assuming he kept his feelings to himself considering Jaemin and her are all coupled up now, but anyway. Yangyang’s best friend is Donghyuck, you probably won’t ever see one without the other, they’re like two peas in a pod,

“Donghyuck… he’s interesting, I guess. A jokester, pretty dramatic at times but he can also switch into his serious mode which hardly no-one has ever seen. He parties a lot, definitely can outdrink anybody in this room. Smokes weed too and pops a few pills thanks to Sunwoo. He’s a little emo too which gives him a lot of attention—he’s attractive, he knows it. He sleeps around a lot and with anyone too, he plays both teams. But something kinda flipped in him after a while when he got a little obsessed with Aisha who actually rejected him not so long ago—”

“Isn’t, like, obsessed too much of a harsh word?” You cut her off with a frown, not liking the way she explained him to you. “Maybe he just had a crush on her or something? A big one?”

Areum laughs at that, clearly amused as she shakes her head. “No, sweetheart. When I say obsessed, I mean obsessed. The thing with Donghyuck is that he gets obsessed with people he likes pretty quickly… It’s like he gets infatuated with them, wants to give them his all and more.”

You can’t help but ask, “Is Aisha the only one that he’s been… obsessed with?”

“I doubt it. I heard that Donghyick was once obsessed with Jeno when they first became friends. It’s not that shocking, to be honest. Jeno is an attractive looking guy,” Areum explains to you as she pulls her hand out of her pocket, now holding a strawberry flavoured vape and placing it between her lips to inhale. She blows the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, making sure not to aim towards your face. “Donghyuck’s obsession with people can be pretty intense and sometimes I think Aisha made a lucky escape, although I’m familiar with how much she enjoys attention so she’ll probably want it back once she realises he’s got a new obsession.”

“A new obsession?” Your brows raise in surprise at that and you lean in closer as if what she’s telling you is about to be top secret. “Who is his new obsession?”

The smirk that spreads across Areum’s cheeks makes your body buzz and heart beat rapidly in your chest, growing even more curious but also nervous to know the answer as you watch as she takes another quick inhale of her vape before glancing over your shoulder.

“Well, with the way he’s staring at you over there with that look in his eyes, I think you’re the next target,” Areum’s eyes meet yours. “You’re his new obsession, sweetheart.”

His new what?

“No I’m not,” A laugh forces its way out of your throat, a nervous one at that. You found it slightly ridiculous, really. There was absolutely no way that you could be his ‘new obsession’. It doesn’t make any sense. “He hardly knows me. We haven’t even spoken a word to each other… I think you’ve got it wrong.”

“Maybe,” She hums, eyes flickering over your shoulder once more. “But with the way he’s walking over here, I think I might be right on this one.”

He is what?

You’re glued in place, unable to turn around and see if she’s telling the truth or teasing you. The look on her face seems serious which makes you feel nervous, but the tone she uses is light which makes you think maybe she is playing tricks, wanting to tease you and see your reactions.

But it’s the deep call of your name and the warm hand touching your upper arm is what makes you realise that she is, in fact, not lying.

The nerves and the anxiety kicks in as you turn to face the person who had called out your name, your breath getting caught in the back of your throat as you meet Donghyuck’s dark eyes and that smile you have seen plenty of times before in class—the smile he always gives you when you catch his attention and when you meet his gaze.

Having been this close to him, Donghyuck, without a doubt, is prettier up close and your tummy flutters at the proximity, almost wanting to take a step back just to put some space between you so you can breathe properly, to conjure up a thought or to even start the conversation as it dawns on you how long you’ve been embarrassingly quiet for.

“Hi,” You greet him, mentally kicking yourself for how silly your voice sounded. You open your mouth to speak again and you immediately regret what comes out, “You’re the guy from my music class.”

One of Donghyuck’s brows lifts in amusement, seemingly surprised but also enjoying how you’re pretending you don’t already know him but he plays along anyways, nodding his head slowly with that smile that makes your hands clammy. “I’m Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” You repeat with a nod. His eyes darken at you saying his name, tongue coming out to sweep over his bottom lip to wet it. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.” He cuts you off and the embarrassment you feel amps up to a hundred, remembering how he called out your name a few moments prior. You’re unsure why you’re acting weird and awkward, maybe it was because he made you feel nervous.

“I’m going to get us another drink,” Areum tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder to get your attention and you turn to her, eyes widening at the thought of her leaving you. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

The second Areum slips into the crowd to head towards the kitchen area, Donghyuck takes her place by the wall, leaning against it comfortably as his ringed fingers run through his dark locks, pushing his bangs out of the way and revealing his forehead for a split moment before his hair falls back into place, the tips almost touching his eyes that never seem to leave you.

He finally asks, “Why did you pretend not to know me?”

“I don’t know,” You immediately reply, unable to stop yourself. “I didn’t mean it. I think I’m just nervous.”

The smile on his face widens before his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth, tilting his head to the side, “I make you nervous?”

“Big parties do,” You partially lie, clearing your throat. “People everywhere, you know… gets overwhelming.”

Donghyuck hums, “Right.”

“I’m serious,” You defend yourself for whatever reason and Donghyuck finds amusement in your voice and actions, eyes sparkling as you seemingly come out of your awkward shell for a few seconds, talking to him in a tone as you would with close friends and he even spots the corner of your lips twitching, almost smiling at him. “Being in a room crowded with people isn’t exactly something I enjoy.”

“I believe you,” He tells you softly. He wants to keep this conversation going, enjoying this side of you that’s slowly becoming comfortable with him already. He likes it, the sparkle in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the subtle peaceful expression on your face. He wants more. “Are you enjoying yourself here?”

That makes you pause. Are you enjoying yourself? You came with Areum and Minjun, two people who you enjoy being in the presence of. You stumbled across Xiaojun and Mark, two other people who bring enjoyment into your life and you were actually ecstatic when seeing Xiaojun for the first time earlier. The beer that was available in the cooler happened to be one of your favourite alcoholic beverages (you’ve had three of those already.) and the music that blasts from the speakers happens to be of a genre you listen to on the regular.

You finally have your answer, “It’s not so bad.”

“Could it be better?” Donghyuck presses and your lips press together in deep thought before shrugging your shoulders, somewhat agreeing. Donghyuck leans in towards you, “Could I make it better?”

Your brows pull together in confusion, “You can do that? How could you do that?”

Donghyuck can’t help but smile at that and you grow even more confused when he begins to laugh softly, shaking his head. You wonder if you said the wrong thing or if there was a certain meaning behind his question that you failed to pick up on.

A frown forms on your face due to you feeling a little stupid, thinking that he’s laughing at you or your dumb response and Donghyuck immediately notices you rebuilding the walls, how that look on your face that he adores slowly starts to slip and he straightens up against the wall, toning down his teasing.

“I like your dress, by the way.” His compliment shocks you, not expecting it to come from him and you instantly look down at your dress.

At first, you wonder what’s wrong with it. If there was a stain you didn’t notice or if there was a tear in the fabric, but then you come to terms with that fact there’s nothing wrong with the dress and, actually, it’s probably one of the best that you own. It doesn’t cling to your body uncomfortably nor does it seem loose, it fits you well.

You raise your head to thank him, but your words are stuck in the back of your throat when you notice the way he’s looking at you. He’s drinking you in, taking in your appearance, gaze roaming over the length of the dress with a deep inhale before his eyes snap back up to yours, the dark look returning.

“It’s pretty,” Donghyuck exhales, leaning his head back against the wall while keeping eye contact with you. “You’re really pretty.”

You’re flustered now. The attention from him becomes a bit too much and you find yourself feeling hot under his intense stare and there’s an unfamiliar feeling swirling in the pit of your tummy, something you’ve never felt before and it shocks you, but you try to not bring too much attention to it.

You debate on whether to thank him or to compliment him back on his own outfit: a loose graphic white shirt of a band you recognised paired with denim ripped jeans with chains hanging off the sides and a pair of doc martens on his feet. His signature leather jacket, one you’ve seen multiple times before in class, drapes across his shoulders.

He does look good (really good, but you won’t admit that part.)

As you open your mouth, surprisingly finding the confidence to compliment him on his own outfit choice, it gets taken away from you when Areum announces her return as she comes towards you with drinks in her hand, followed by Minjun, Xiaojun and Mark who decided to tag along.

You smile when Areum passes you a fresh drink, completely forgetting about the other that had become lukewarm in your hand and you’re unsure on what to do with it until it’s plucked from your grasp and you turn to look at Donghyuck who had taken it from you, clinking the can against your own in a small ‘cheers’ before he pushes himself off of the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as he heads back to where he originally came from.

You’re a little confused on why he left, watching as he drops down on the sofa beside Yangyang who looks like he’s exhausted, slouching against the sofa cushions and nodding to whatever Shotaro—you remembered him from when Areum pointed him out—was talking about and Donghyuck takes the joint from between his fingers, leaning against Yangyang as he takes a drag all while watching you.

It’s almost deja vu, the whole scene reminding you of earlier when he was looking at you from afar before he came on over to introduce himself. You find him odd, extremely odd, but you can’t deny the fact how intriguing he is.

“So,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention. “How was it?”

“Fine,” You quip, turning to face the four. “He seemed fine. Nothing about that conversation screamed ‘I’m obsessed with you’ so, I think you were wrong with that one.”

Mark almost drops his beer, the alcohol sloshing and spilling over his hands as it almost slips from his fingers as he stares at you in shock, mouth agape, “Dude… you’re the next target?”

You deadpan, “Can you stop calling me a target? It feels like I’m about to get assassinated.”

Xiaojun frowns, giving you a look of sympathy as he steps in closer to pat your back comfortingly, “You poor thing… my condolences. Stay strong, soldier.”

"Be quiet."

An hour or two later you find yourself standing outside to get some fresh air alone, staring down at the liquid in your cup. You’re not sure how many you’ve had but you hate how you’re unable to feel the buzz that’s affecting those who are around you, glancing up at the few strays of people that are stumbling across the well-kept grass or are giggling to themselves as they stare up at the star filled sky.

You wonder at first if the drink you have isn’t actually alcoholic, but from the reactions of your friends (who had been drinking the same brand with you the majority of the night.) they were already tipsy, or in Xiaojun’s case, drunk.

Maybe you just weren’t feeling it.

First college party jitters, Areum had called it when you had confided in her about the problem and you were undoubtedly embarrassed to hear her call it that, but she had reassured you that it was fine and that it was normal, and even she had experienced something similar when she came to her first college party at the beginning of the year.

Still, it made you feel embarrassed.

With a heavy sigh, you finish the rest of your drink, pulling a face at the burn that trickles down the back of your throat as you turn on your heel to head back inside where your friends are but you crash into something hard, causing you to stumble backwards in shock and a pair of hands come out to grab your elbows, steadying you on your feet.

“Careful, princess.” The person speaks. Any other time, the pet name would’ve made you flustered, especially with that deep tone, but you barely acknowledge it as you try to shake yourself out of your startled state and you wince when you put too much pressure on your ankle, figuring you must’ve twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into the stranger.

You curse under your breath as you feel the throb but you try not to pay too much attention to it as you finally meet eyes with Donghyuck who is already staring back at you, the grip he has on your elbows tightening slightly as you make eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry.” You apologise instantly, “I didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and his attention drops down to your ankle, his brows pulling together. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, yeah, just a bit. But it’s fine, honest—”

The words get caught at the back of your throat as Donghyuck kneels down onto the grass to inspect the damage, cold fingers delicately touching your leg and trailing down to your ankle, the sudden action causing goosebumps to rise to your skin and you can just make out the corner of his lips twitching.

He traces the area with the pads of his fingertips slowly, suddenly aware of how close he’s leaning in as you feel his breath fan over your calf. His hand takes a hold of your ankle gently and carefully not to hurt you, the delicate strokes of his thumb sending a shiver up your spine and you wonder if he notices how nervous you’ve become.

Donghyuck presses his fingers down on a certain spot on your ankle and you hiss in surprise at the throb that comes with it, your hand instinctively slapping down on his shoulder in retaliation for the pain he caused but your mouth drops open in surprise while he glances up at you with a grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“It’s not broken or anything,” He informs you before you could start to apologise again for your sudden actions, raising back up onto his feet. “You just twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into me.”

“Do you major in nursing alongside music or something?”

Donghyuck smiles at that, a laugh leaving his lips. “No. I’m just good at knowing my way around a body,” You immediately pick up the suggestive tone in his voice and your brows raise in surprise, feeling flustered and shy under his gaze that doesn’t waver from you. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve crashed into me—”

“Accidently.”

“Right,” He hums. “What’s that saying? Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence—”

“And three times is a pattern,” You finish. “It’s not a coincidence or pattern. Both are mistakes. I don’t go walking around searching for you in hopes to bump into you.”

“Aw, that’s a shame.”

“That I’m not purposely bumping into you?”

“That you’re not searching around for me.”

Your face grows hot at his forwardness and your eyes flick downwards to a patch of grass you suddenly find interest in, the shyness that creeps upon you making it hard for you to look at him.

Donghyuck remains staring at you and the corner of his lips curl into a smirk, amused at how easily you seem to be flustered when it comes to him already. He basks in it, he loves knowing how much he affects you and it excites him even more when he dips his head to meet your eyes but you avert your attention elsewhere.

He dips his hand into his jean pocket to pull out a singular pack of cigarettes, “Do you want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

Donghyuck pauses, his fingers ghosting over the opening of the pack. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

You frown and that's when you look up to meet his eyes, confused. “Why wouldn’t I mind?”

“Some people don’t like being around smokers,” Donghyuck shrugs. “The smell and all.”

“I’m at a party where the air reeks of cigarettes, weed and alcohol,” You point out, a smile slowly starting to form on your lips. “I wouldn’t be here if I minded the smell. And besides, I can smell the weed on your clothes from earlier too and I haven’t said a word about it. I’m fine.”

He blinks once, twice, “Do I smell bad?”

“No,” You rush out to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, not at all. You smell fine.”

“Just fine?”

“You smell good.” You correct yourself.

The smirk returns as he tilts his head to the side, “Yeah?”

You come to a conclusion that he definitely enjoys making you embarrassed and flustered, and you let out a breathy laugh, tongue prodding at your cheek in slight annoyance at how easy it is for him to make you feel this way.

If it was anyone else, you fight back. You always fight back. Being roommates with Areum and close friends with Minjun, Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon had made you defensive, being a victim to their countless teasing and jokes you had learned over time to return it.

But unfortunately there is something about Donghyuck that makes your words get caught in the back of your throat and your mind go completely blank, unable to think properly or even say something back.

“Whose is this?” Donghyuck’s already changing the subject, almost giving you whiplash at how easily he can switch to different topics without hesitating or missing a beat. His fingers reach out to touch Minjun’s jacket that’s draped over your shoulders, something that he had given you to keep you warm while you stepped outside. Donghyuck hums, brows pulling together. “You weren’t wearing this earlier.”

“Oh.” Your own fingers graze over the leather jacket. “It’s Minjun’s.”

Donghyuck drily asks, “Who?”

“He’s a friend.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue against his teeth with a hum, “Yeah, well, your friend's jacket is covering this pretty dress of yours.”

The tone in his voice made your brows raise in surprise, the slight annoyance and disapproval of Minjun’s jacket covering—what he claims—a pretty dress was something you weren’t expecting, although it made your chest blossom with warmth and your face grew hot at the subtle compliment.

He’s not speaking now, which makes you feel a bit awkward having to stand in silence with him, minus the music that’s blasting from inside the house and a few lingering people out in the garden that are having drunken conversations around you. His lips are pressing together tightly, jaw locking and unlocking as his brows furrow as if he’s thinking deeply about something, fidgeting in his spot with his fingers twitching around his own jacket after he retracted them from Minjun’s.

You think maybe it’s time for you to leave, to say your goodbyes and find your friends so you can be free of the awkward tension you’re feeling. You want to stay with him though, not exactly eager to disappear away from him so soon just like how he practically walked away from you earlier when the others had come to join the conversation.

“Do you want another drink?” You catch yourself asking him before you could ever register the question in your head and your heart thumps wildly in your chest as Donghyuck slowly turns to look at you, “I mean, I noticed your hands are empty—and I want another drink too, so…”

Donghyuck stares at you for a moment longer before a smile breaks out onto his lips and he nods, agreeing to get another drink from the kitchen with you. But what you didn’t expect was Donghyuck to hold out his hand, wiggling his fingers enticingly in the air to coax you into taking his hand in your own.

You’re hesitant to take it, not wanting him to feel how clammy your palms already are and you most definitely didn’t want to embarrass yourself for being so nervous during this entire interaction.

“I don’t bite, you know,” He says with a whisper and it sends shivers tingling down your spine at how close he leans in to tell you that. He tilts his head to the side as he smirks, “Unless—”

“DONGHYUCK!”

The unfamiliar voice that shouts out his name startles you and your head whips around so fast you swear you hear a crack, immediately noticing a pretty, long haired girl stumble out of the backdoor of the house, almost tripping over her own heels before she collects herself, bringing her hand up to her forehead and squinting as she scans the garden for the boy in question.

You slowly face Donghyuck again and he’s still looking at you, not even paying attention to the calls of his name that echo throughout the garden, not even flinching at the loudness. He’s still holding his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it so you could both go inside but you feel as if maybe it’s the wrong thing to do right now, looking back and forth between him and the girl.

You state, “Someone is calling for you.”

“I know, she’s drunk, ignore her,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and he reaches out further towards you, fingertips brushing over the top of your hand. “Let’s go get that drink, princess. Yeah?”

You don’t even get the chance to decide to accept or decline as the girl approaches you both and immediately throws herself at Donghyuck and punches his arm repeatedly, rambling about something that he had kept hidden from ‘the rest of them’ and she even goes as far as shoving her hand into the front pocket of his jeans.

You blink away awkwardly, unsure of what to do or even to say but you look back at the pair when she pulls out a small bag of weed with a wail of victory.

“I knew you fucking had it,” She hisses, landing another punch on his arm and he rolls his eyes, trying to snatch it out of her grasp but she pulls it away quickly out of his reach, almost bumping into you in the process and her eyes widen in surprise. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

You shake your head, “It’s fi—”

“Miwoo.” Donghyuck speaks her name through gritted teeth and it instantly rings a bell, remembering that she was one of the girls that Areum had told you about earlier, one of Donghyuck’s best friends exes. “Why don’t you take the weed and go share it with Yangyang? Yeah?”

“You’re really pretty,” Miwoo completely ignores Donghyuck to compliment you, eyes checking you out from head to toe with a smile that makes you feel a little flustered but it disappears, replacing with a grimace as she jabs her thumb back at Donghyuck, “Why are you talking to him?”

Donghyuck’s hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose, seemingly getting frustrated with his friends words and you can’t help but smile at that, finding the situation a little comical and you watch as Donghyuck manages to get her attention, the pair getting warped into a miniature argument that has you trying to bite back your amusement, pressing your lips together tightly to try and not smile even wider.

Although, your watching moment is cut short when you hear Areum call out your name and you turn to look over your shoulder to see her beckoning your forwards and you nod, wanting to politely bid your goodbyes to Donghyuck and Miwoo but you decide against it when you them at each other's throats with petty insults, quickly making your escape to Areum who loops your arms with hers, tugging you back into the house where the others are patiently waiting for you.

Donghyuck notices your disappearance almost immediately and his shoulders drop with a sigh, glaring at Miwoo who isn’t the least affected by his darkened gaze as she dips her fingers inside the baggy to pull out a pre-rolled joint.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” Miwoo grins before she meets Donghyuck’s eye, “She’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, I know,” Donghyuck mumbles under his breath, tongue prodding at his cheek in annoyance as he rips the bag and the joint out of Miwoo’s hands. “Give me that. You don’t deserve it, asshole.”

The amusement on your face is obvious when Xiaojun and Mark step into the Dreamies Café, both dressed in oversized hoodies and wearing sunglasses to block out the brightness of the sun and the lights from burning their eyes, arms dangling at their sides as they drag their feet across the flooring towards the table where you and Jihoon are sat waiting for them.

You arrived ten minutes before the two of them did and you were surprised to already see Jihoon sitting at the table with everyone's preferred drinks, and even when you tried to hand over the money for your own, he just looked at you as if you deeply offended him and swatted your hand away before pulling out a chair and telling you to sit.

Xiaojun doesn’t seep a word as he slumps down in the seat opposite you, but he does gesture a quick thank you to Jihoon for the drink and he lifts the straw to his lips to take a long sip, chest rumbling with a satisfied hum as he relaxes into his seat, the ice clinking in his iced matcha as he continuous to drink.

“Hey,” Mark greets you both as he sits on the seat at the end of the table, fingers curling around the plastic cup of his watermelon ade as he glances over at Jihoon. “Thanks, man. I’ll venmo you the money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It’s on me anyways. You paid for my drink last time we were here,” His gaze suddenly flicks over to Xiaojun, the corner of his lips twitching. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Xiaojun grumbles, craning his head back. “But fuck those cocktails tasted good.”

“You know, you’re probably going to have to give Jeno the money back for raiding his stash.”

“Actually, it belonged to Yangyang,” Xiaojun corrects as he digs his hand through the front of his jean pockets, pulling out his phone and swiping up to get to his notification bar and he angles the screen towards the three of you with a grimace. “He dmed me on Instagram this morning telling me to pay him back but I’m not even going to open it.”

“Dude,” Mark gives him a pointed look. “You can’t do that.”

“But I can,” Xiaojun locks his phone and places it down on the table with a grin. “And I will.”

Jihoon murmurs, “But you drank his stuff without his permission.”

“He uses my laptop in classes without my permission!” Xiaojun argues back immediately, “It’s payback.”

“You shouldn’t have given him your password.”

“I didn’t. I gave it to Donghyuck because he wanted—” Xiaojun suddenly pauses, blinking a few times as he registers his own words before smacking his lips together with a nod, exhaling deeply through his nose. “Yeah. That’s my fault. Should’ve guessed Donghyuck wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about that.”

The mention of Donghyuck has you thinking back on last night and a subtle smile makes its way onto your lips, twisting the straw of your coffee in between your teeth as you go over the interaction in your head.

The smirk he always has, the tone of his voice as he speaks to you, the way he always keeps eye contact and doesn’t even falter once when something else is going on around him. His somewhat flirtatious comments and his lingering touches is what surprises you the most, but you tell yourself that maybe that’s just his personality.

He’s like that with everyone, he must be.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” A teasing voice breaks you out of your thoughts, startling you as your head shoots up and you see Xiaojun grinning at you across the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand as he waits for you to explain the reason for your smiling but you remain tight lipped, causing his grin to drop. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be nosy.” You fire back jokingly.

A soft call of your name makes you turn your head to Jihoon, “Did you enjoy the party yesterday?”

“It was fine,” You nod your head. “Didn’t get as drunk as everyone else did, but it was fine. College parties can be kind of overwhelming though,” You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly as you admit, “I don’t know why but I didn’t expect that many people to be there…”

“Yeah, Jeno is pretty well-known,” Mark hums as he takes a sip through his straw, leaning back in his seat comfortably. “Don’t get me wrong, like, that entire group are pretty much well-known but it’s mainly Jeno that gets the most attention and rallies everyone up for parties.”

“Areum kind of explained everything to me about them last night,” You say. “They’re an interesting group, I think. They also come across as a little intimidating apart from Shotaro… he was just smiling the entire night.”

“Shotaro’s sweet,” Mark agrees, nodding his head. “Also, once you get to really know them, they aren’t that intimidating—”

“I don’t know about that. Renjun still makes my skin crawl.” Xiaojun interrupts with a shiver.

“Renjun’s just not a people person,” Mark explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s actually really nice if you have a one on one conversation with him,” Mark then turns his attention back on you, “But seriously, none of them are that intimidating once you get to really know them or be around them. Take Yangyang and Donghyuck for example, we don’t find either of them ‘intimidating’ since we share a class with them.”

“They’re just annoying,” Xiaojun chimes in again with a grimace on his face. “Especially Yangyang.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, “What’s your problem with Yangyang?”

“Yangyang likes to annoy people a lot,” Jihoon is the one to explain to you as Xiaojun rubs at his temples at the mere thought of Yangyang. “He enjoys getting on people's nerves and, fortunately for him, Xiaojun reacts to everything he does so that just makes him do it even more… although, he hasn’t really been doing anything lately. He’s just been kinda numbed out.”

You hum, “Areum also mentioned that he indulges himself into some hard shit, alongside the weed and the alcohol.”

“That’s heartbreak for you, I guess.” Mark mumbles under his breath with a frown, tone sullen and your brows pull together in confusion, wanting to question it a little bit more but you struggle to find the opportunity when another topic is brought up.

“And obviously you know so much about Donghyuck already.”

“No I don’t,” You snip, sending a hard look Xiaojun’s way as he bats his pretty eyelashes at you. You repeat, “No I don’t”

“You were outside in the garden with him for quite some time last night~”

“I’m surprised you even remembered that considering when I walked back into the house, you were on your eighth shot dancing with one of the kitchen chairs.”

“Hey,” Xiaojun points his finger at you, “I may have been drunk but this brain of mine remembers everything.” He then smiles at you, “What did you guys talk about? Did he mention that you’re now his new obsession?”

Jihoon almost spits out his drink, “You’re his new obsession?”

“Why do you all call it that?” You huff with a frown, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “It sounds mean—and wrong.”

“It’s kinda the truth,” Mark gives you a sorry expression. “Donghyuck does get obsessed with people and I’m almost positive he even knows it himself… He falls for people hard and he becomes so infatuated with them until they say they want nothing to do with him, and he just… stops.”

“He was into Aisha before,” Xiaojun states but you already knew that from Areum’s previous explanation. “He liked her a lot and I’m pretty sure she was into it for a while considering she flirted back and there were even rumours that they hooked up, like, once or twice… but I guess she got bored with that so she made up a lie and told Donghyuck that she was dating Mark—”

“Me. Of all people.” Mark points to himself in disbelief and shakes his head, the expression on his face being enough to get a laugh out of you.

“I mean, I would believe it,” Jihoon shrugs his shoulders, causing Mark to look at him incredulously. “Come on, you once walked out of a bathroom with her at a Halloween party with your spider-man costume unzipped and your mask gone—”

“I had to fucking piss really bad and I couldn’t get out of the costume because I was drunk so she helped me,” Mark immediately defends himself, a pout forming on his lips. “Besides, it was hot, I wasn’t going to wear the mask all night.” He then fires back up, “I wouldn’t fuck someone in dingy club’s disgusting bathroom, dude!”

Xiaojun blinks, “You lost your virginity in a cheap motel room with your ex-girlfriend.”

Mark bites back, “You lost yours in your grandma's basement, shut up.”

“Okay, wow, uncalled for.”

“Don’t argue…” Jihoon sighs, rubbing his forehead at their raised voices and your brows raise as the pair both turn to look at Jihoon with blank expressions before they speak in sync.

“You lost yours in the college janitor closet and got caught.”“Wait, really?” You gape at Jihoon in shock, not expecting someone like a quiet and socially awkward Jihoon to do something so scandalous on campus grounds. But your shock dies down and morphs into shyness when you realise the trio are now looking at you, expecting you to chime in with your own embarrassing virginity story but the problem was, you had none. Your virginity is still intact.

“Do you not have one?” Mark questions after a few minutes of awkward silence and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. He questions genuinely again, not a hint of teasing in his tone as he whispers quietly. “Are you a virgin?”

You nod.

“Aww…” Xiaojun coos softly, causing your head to snap towards him as he smiles sweetly at you, “That’s cute.”

Your face immediately burns with embarrassment as you sink further down into your seat, a deep frown settling on your lips, “Don’t ever call my virginity cute again.”

“Wow… I’m immensely impressed,” Professor Kim mumbles under his breath as he slips the headphones off of his head after listening to a little recording you had made on your computer, his lips curled into satisfied grin as he places the headphones down on the table and you beam happily, glancing between him and your computer screen. “I’m also really impressed that you finished this today. I was expecting you to show me the finished product by at least next week… I’m grateful that you take this class seriously.”

“I enjoy music,” You tell him honestly as you tap your fingers nervously on your desk, “Is there anything I need to change or to work on?”

“There’s nothing you need to work on, it sounds great,” He compliments yet you prepare yourself for the rest, “But for changes? I would like to encourage you to partner up with some of the other students in the class, work together on a piece and let your music styles blend together to see how well it compliments each other, or even try and create something new.”

“So, like a group project?”

“Exactly,” Professor Kim nods. “Like I said, you’re impressive. You’re an amazing guitarist and pianist, your music is incredible when you’re solo. But I would like to hear it within a group too. Yangyang is an incredible bass player that you can maybe add. Xiaojun and Aisha are amazing vocalists, Donghyuck too and he’s also great at the guitar. Jihoon is talented with the keyboard and Mark can do just about everything. Seriously, think about it. I would love to hear how you sound within a group.”

With a kind smile and a gentle pat to your shoulder, Professor Kim excuses himself to go talk to another student, leaving you alone to think about his words.

It’s not that you didn’t want to work in a group. You’re almost positive that working with your friends will be a fun type of chaotic mess that will have your stomach cramping and tears streaming down your cheeks from laughing so much.

It’s just that you didn’t know how to work in a group. You’ve always been independent in some sort of sense, especially with your own creations. You preferred sitting alone with your headphones snug on your head, testing out different sounds and techniques all by yourself, choosing what sounds best and what suits your needs.

But working in a group? Settling on one thing that will make each of you happy? That is foreign territory… that is stressful.

“So, what did he say to you?” Jihoon asks with a gentle nudge at your shoulder to get your attention and you pull your eyes away from your laptop screen to give him a tight lipped smile.

“He liked it. He just wants me to try out group work,” You almost start pleading, “Got any room in your group project for me to fit in?”

“Sure,” Jihoon nods with a kind smile, “Although I feel like I should probably warn you by saying that sometimes it’s not just me, Mark and Xiaojun working together… Donghyuck and Yangyang sometimes come back and forth, especially for Mark.”

Your brows raise in surprise, “They’re in your group too?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like them coming to us when we’re working to borrow Mark for their project,” Jihoon explains to you as he nods over at Mark who’s currently leaning on a desk with Donghyuck and Yangyang at his sides, peering over his shoulder to look at his laptop screen. “Mark pretty much floats in and out of other people's groups. It’s what you get for being an allrounder I guess.”

“Professor Kim mentioned something like that.” You mumble as you watch the trio, the corner of your lips twitching upwards in a slight smile as Mark scoffs at something Donghyuck says, swatting him away with his hand as Donghyuck grins mischievously and murmurs something in his ear, causing Mark to push at his head this time and Donghyuck stumbles back with a laugh.

Yangyang remains silent, idly drumming his fingers on the desk and rubbing tiredly at his sullen eyes beneath his hood. He seems to stop when turning his body towards you, as if looking your way to which makes your back straighten up, especially when Donghyuck’s head whips around at a mumble from Yangyang, looking directly at you.

From across the room, Donghyuck smiles that crooked grin of his and his eyebrow quirks up when he sees that you’re already staring back at him. You can feel the warmth rising to your cheeks at being caught, and though you try to suppress the shy feeling that creeps in, you know he can already tell exactly how you’re feeling as his eyes twinkle with amusement, tilting his head to the side as if to tease you even more.

Donghyuck’s eyes never leave you as you turn away, trying to busy yourself with something else as your heart thumps wildly in your ears, feeling too overwhelmed to glance back at Donghyuck despite seeing him in your peripheral vision.

“You really have caught his attention,” Jihoon mutters beside you with a chuckle and you whip around to face him, eyes wide. “I thought that maybe Xiaojun and Mark were teasing you… but I guess Donghyuck really has started to take a liking to you. You are his new obsession.”

#nct dream fic #nct dream au #nct series #haechan au #haechan fic #haechan series #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #fic: you'll never find anyone like me #neo tech college series

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yoonmetogether · 13 days ago

Text

Part 1 - Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit. warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude), character death minors pls dni wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l part i. play nice I interlude: strangers l part ii. I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood.

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him.

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off.

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him.

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.”

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.”

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens.

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, vaguely familiar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it broke your heart, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look.

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men.

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal gash that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you.

Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression.

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he’s wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care, however, so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly.

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized.

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Oh. So he wants to play games. And he’s a fucking coward.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs. You think to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.”

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat the other morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really anymore as you’ve come to hate the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off. And you’re very much on edge lately.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of bay water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your shirt. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes fly open and feet move on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take it. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes Jungkook with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?”

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. You recognize him. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it.

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your heart pounds in your ears when Lee slides his beady eyes to you, fingernails digging into your sweaty palms.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the lighters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you unravel the plastic. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The wrapper you crumple and the lighter you flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing of the metal and plastic on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly gruffs out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, the confidence it gave you. And that scares you.

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened.

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you run out of tears, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads don’t entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

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wholoveseggs · 1 month ago

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Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Three} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@niklausie}: the squeal i let out when i saw your kinktober post asking for more klaus that’s my man!! shocked that people aren’t requesting a lot of him already but i love to see all the elijah love 🥺 anyway! my request is: 1920s klaus dating a fem!reader who’s in her late 20s and a young upper-class widow whose husband never satisfied her, maybe it was an arranged marriage, and her relationship with klaus is quite scandalous. he’s introducing her to pleasure in a way she never imagined or experienced before. could be him going down on her, which she’s never done before, or just raw passionate bonking in a jazz club like the smitten degenerates they are hehe xx i appreciate it a lot if you decide to write this!

♡♡♡ I just KNOW Klaus made a hobby out of doing this at every speakeasy in the city...♡♡♡

2.5k words - Kinks: 1920s, oral sex, public sex, Klaus being a flirt, jazz music && lots of gin ..

The crumpled note in your hand was the key to the evening, an address to a secret club. Your friend had suggested the place, telling you that you would love the jazz and the atmosphere. It was entirely outside your comfort zone to go to such a place, especially alone.

But your life had changed so much in the past months that you wanted to do something new. So here you were, standing in front of a plain wooden door, with nothing to indicate what was behind. A small window, the kind you would expect to see in a bank, was set in the door. It slid open, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Name?” The voice was low and suspicious.

You swallowed and said the password your friend had given you. “la fee verte.”

The window snapped shut, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe they wouldn’t let you in. Then the lock clicked, and the door swung open. The man behind it gave a small, amused smirk. “Enjoy the show.”

Inside, it was dark and smoky, the air thick with the mingled scents of tobacco and alcohol. It felt as though you’d stepped into a different world … one where rules didn’t apply. A thrill ran down your spine as you took it all in. The dim light cast long shadows over the room, and in the center, a crowd of people swayed to the lively, infectious tunes of the jazz band on stage.

You moved toward the bar, your steps hesitant but steady. “Gin, please,” you ordered, and the bartender poured a generous amount into your glass. The liquid burned as you took a sip, but you liked it. It was stronger than the polite, watered-down drinks you were used to, stronger, and better. The tension you’d been holding onto since you’d arrived began to slip away.

As you watched the dancers, a spark of envy stirred in your chest. The women moved freely, laughing, spinning, their dresses swirling as they danced with their partners. You wanted that. The freedom, the joy. For once in your life, you wanted to do something just for yourself.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and rich like the gin in your glass.

You turned, and the moment your eyes met his, the words caught in your throat. He was gorgeous, all chiseled features, blue eyes that gleamed in the low light, and a smirk that sent a flicker of heat through your chest.

“I’m Klaus,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you were suddenly grateful for the dim lighting, so he wouldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Y/N,” you managed, offering your hand.

Instead of shaking it, Klaus took your hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and your breath hitched, warmth pooling in your stomach at the simple touch.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, his voice casual, but the intensity in his gaze told you there was more behind the question.

“My friend told me about the band,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “And I’ve… been wanting to try something different.”

He nodded, glancing toward the stage. “They’re good,” he said, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. “I imagine you’ve been to plenty of these places.”

You laughed, a bit nervously. “Not exactly. This is my first time at a place like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? Then I’m honored to be part of your introduction to such debauchery.” His smirk deepened, and your heart skipped a beat. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” you said, “New Orleans. Born and raised.”

“And your husband?” His voice was casual, but you could tell he was paying close attention to your answer.

You hesitated, then took another sip of gin for courage. “He died a few months ago.” The words slipped out more easily than you expected. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Klaus was watching you, like he genuinely cared about your answer. “It was an arranged marriage. We never… loved each other.”

A shadow flickered over Klaus’ expression, but it disappeared just as quickly. He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly. “And now?”

You looked down, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertip. “And now, I’m figuring out what it means to live for myself.”

Klaus’ smile was slow, deliberate. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

Your heart raced as he stepped closer, his presence warm and magnetic. His breath ghosted against your ear as he whispered, “Care to dance?”

“I don’t know the steps,” you admitted, glancing at the couples on the floor, their movements effortless, graceful.

Klaus chuckled softly, his breath brushing your skin. “That’s the beauty of it, love. You don’t need to know the steps. Just follow me.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your waist, guiding you toward the dance floor. The moment his hand touched you, a spark of something electric shot through your body. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled you into the rhythm of the music, his body pressed against yours, leading you with a confidence that made it impossible not to follow.

As the song picked up speed, he spun you around, your dress billowing around your ankles. Laughter bubbled up in your throat as you twirled, dizzy and giddy, caught up in the excitement and the heat of his touch. When the music finally slowed again, you were breathless, flushed and grinning.

Klaus held your gaze, his hand still resting on your waist. Your bodies were close, swaying gently with the music, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes were dark with desire, and your pulse quickened.

Your husband had been cold and distant, barely sparing a moment for you. But now, here, with Klaus, you felt the desire that had been buried beneath layers of propriety and convention rising up inside you. You wanted him, more than you could ever remember wanting anyone.

"You are far too lovely to be married to a man who never appreciated you," Klaus murmured, his voice low and husky.

Your face burned. "What makes you think I'm lovely?"

Klaus chuckled, spinning you again, your body moving perfectly with his. "You have no idea, do you?" His gaze roamed over your face, your lips, down your body, his eyes filled with lust. "You are intoxicating."

"I'm sure you say that to every single gal who walks in here," you said, the gin loosening your tongue.

His smirk deepened, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle over the curve of your hip. "I'm only interested in the one who is right here, in front of me."

The music ended and the applause startled you both out of the trance you had fallen into. Klaus' eyes lingered on yours for a moment, then he took your hand and led you off the dance floor.

"Let's get another drink, shall we?" he murmured, and you found yourself unable to refuse.

You followed him to a quiet booth, upholstered in soft velvet, tucked away in a secluded corner. He signaled a waiter, and soon, two fresh glasses of gin sat on the table, the liquid ice-cold and refreshing. You sipped it slowly, savoring the tart flavor, as Klaus' eyes studied you.

"So," he said, leaning back, his arm draped over the back of the seat. "Tell me about yourself."

You blushed. "There's not much to tell."

Klaus shook his head, taking a drink. "I doubt that," he said, his gaze intense, making the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Well," you began, unsure where to start. "Same old story, married young, and it wasn't a happy marriage." You didn't elaborate, didn't want to talk about the years of loneliness, the disappointment. "It's a relief, honestly. Now, I can make my own choices, be my own person."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan on doing anything with your freedom?"

You took a long sip of gin. "I honestly don't even know where to start..."

Klaus tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might be able to help," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Your stomach did a somersault as he slid closer, his thigh brushing yours. The scent of his cologne, crisp and musky, surrounded you, making it hard to focus.

"Let's start with this," he whispered, his lips inches from yours. Before you could ask what, he was kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, his hands tangling in your hair.

You gasped, your body responding instantly, desire flooding through you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He tasted like gin and sin, and it was everything you wanted. You felt his hand sliding up your leg, under your dress, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your heart pounded, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his lips trailed along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. You felt a pang of fear, and you didn't know why, but something inside you pushed back.

"No," you gasped, pulling away, your chest heaving.

Klaus paused, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Why not?"

"It's not... proper," you stammered, hating yourself for the words.

Klaus chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. "I'll make sure no one sees," he said, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. You wanted him, but you were afraid. You'd been taught to be a good girl, to obey, and the thought of someone seeing, knowing, terrified you.

"You don't have to be afraid," Klaus said, as if he could read your thoughts. "Want to know a secret? No one cares what you do. This place, it's about freedom. About living life to the fullest, without the constraints of society holding you back."

Your heart pounded as his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. His lips went back to kissing and nibbling at your neck, and you found yourself arching against him, craving more.

"I want you," he murmured against your skin. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," you breathed, giving in.

You felt him smirk against your skin, and his hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, his fingers stroking over the slick, wet heat between your legs.

You gasped, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you, as his fingers found the swollen bud of nerves, circling and teasing it. You let out a small moan, your hips moving involuntarily, seeking more.

"Did your husband ever do this for you?" Klaus asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Please don't bring him up with your hand between my legs," you moaned.

He laughed. "That's a no, then."

Before you could respond, he was sliding under the table, his hands pushing your dress up to expose the skin of your thighs.

You were suddenly hyper aware of the people around you, the possibility that someone might notice, but the lights were too dim, the crowd too noisy, and Klaus was kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

You bit back a moan, the feeling of his lips against your skin making it hard to think, the gin still thrumming through your veins.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gripping the edge of the table as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin.

"Giving you the pleasure that was denied to you," Klaus murmured, his fingers spreading you open.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered as his tongue circled the aching nub of nerves.

He chuckled, his tongue moving in slow, lazy circles, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took his time, drawing out the moment, building the tension.

You had never felt anything like it, the way his warm mouth was making your body respond, the way his tongue flicked over the most sensitive part of you. You were trembling, gasping, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he increased the pressure, his fingers slipping inside you.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, the pleasure too much.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

"God, yes," you moaned, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled again, and the vibrations making it all more intense. He was enjoying this, the effect he was having on you, and it turned you on even more.

You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, your hips rocking against his mouth. The music was loud, the voices around you a steady drone, all the overwhelming sensations building, building, building. You were teetering on the edge, and then Klaus did something with his tongue, a swirl of pressure, and it was too much. A shattered cry ripped from your lips as you came, hard, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Klaus stayed between your legs, his mouth and tongue working their magic, until you were completely spent, panting, sweaty, and blissed out. He emerged from under the table, a smirk playing on his lips, and kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, salty and sweet, and the idea of him doing such a wicked thing made your core pulse again.

"How was that, love?" he asked, his gaze burning into yours.

"That was incredible," you breathed, your hands curling into his shirt.

He grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

You blushed, realizing how scandalous this whole thing was. "I've never done anything like that before."

"I can tell," he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Your husband was a fool."

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the flutter of pleasure his words gave you.

"I should go," you said, though the last thing you wanted was to leave.

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

You didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense, anyway.

"Freedom, you see, is also about taking what you want, when you want it," Klaus said, his hand trailing over your collarbone, the bare skin exposed by your dress.

You hesitated, his words ringing in your ears. You'd spent so much of your life following the rules, doing what was expected of you, and now, the prospect of being free, of doing whatever you wanted, was dizzying.

"So... What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You looked up, your gaze locking with his. You wanted him, all of him, and the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers were dancing across your skin, made it clear that he wanted you too.

"Take me home," you whispered, and his smirk widened, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Darling, I'd be delighted."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lissaskinktober24 #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #klaus x reader #klaus

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year ago

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crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers) - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn.

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips).

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months.

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall.

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool.

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation.

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies.

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll.

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig.

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights).

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross.

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air.

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.”

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks.

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks.

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns, “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..”

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.”

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside.

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts.

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips.

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was.

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat.

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick.

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish.

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure.

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter.

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious.

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago.

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving.

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy.

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward.

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain.

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice.

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose.

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on.

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you.

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch.

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control.

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck.

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night.

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall.

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink.

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it.

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes.

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-”

As you take another sip, the door swings open.

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office.

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you.

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by.

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting.

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you.

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too.

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy.

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.”

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare.

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?”

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy.

I want to. What does that mean?

Eddie covers himself quickly.

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.”

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you.

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness.

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.”

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes.

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it.

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task.

“Very gentle,” he murmurs.

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth.

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other.

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards.

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?”

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight.

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass.

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body.

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt.

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much.

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.”

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.”

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught.

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night.

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness).

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself.

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?”

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition.

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise.

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine.

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.”

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.”

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.”

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.”

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad.

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live.

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.”

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline.

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.”

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working.

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.”

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.”

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand.

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?”

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs.

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door.

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks.

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean.

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you.

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie.

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola.

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him.

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip.

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.”

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger.

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.”

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew.

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him.

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes.

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.”

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer.

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too.

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little.

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.”

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink.

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime.

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside.

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently.

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee.

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.”

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.”

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real.

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary.

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out.

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering.

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door.

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door. “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car.

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on.

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place.

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both.

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head.

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone.

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case.

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne.

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.”

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin�� okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you.

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.”

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.”

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on.

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain.

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting.

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag.

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off.

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.”

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm.

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours.

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning.

His smile makes your tummy flutter.

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening.

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..”

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks.

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful.

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong?

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly.

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary.

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you.

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?”

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive.

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue.

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat.

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too.

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever.

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word.

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder.

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real.

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp.

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too.

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere.

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again.

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth.

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?”

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper.

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.”

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek.

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.”

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did.

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes.

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way.

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms.

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break.

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again).

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement.

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson.

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time...

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door.

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager.

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley…

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car?

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief.

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?”

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself.

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter.

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.”

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip.

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over.

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close.

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car.

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.”

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.”

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt.

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine.

“Well then…” you say quietly.

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes.

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly.

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers.

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along.

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say.

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say.

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.”

“You should be so lucky.”

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss.

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this…

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops.

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8.

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through.

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?”

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat.

“You gonna behave?”

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key.

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass.

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected.

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?”

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath.

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way.

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again.

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on.

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself.

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green.

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter.

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn.

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again.

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?”

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.”

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?”

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing.

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…”

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance.

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there.

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip.

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap.

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?”

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him.

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips.

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you.

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise.

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat.

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes.

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath.

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one.

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time.

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him.

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more.

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.”

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle.

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace.

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.”

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand.

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..”

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!”

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?”

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts.

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction.

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes.

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…”

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny.

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press.

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak.

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit.

“Fuhhh- Eddie.”

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man.

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping.

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face.

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss.

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge.

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living.

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter.

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow.

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand.

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that.

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs.

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it.

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are.

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you.

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder.

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?”

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full.

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…”

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager.

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs.

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him.

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving.

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside.

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch.

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest.

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet.

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks.

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob.

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze.

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.”

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door.

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer.

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers.

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong.

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod.

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.”

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.”

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

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tigerpeachs · 1 year ago

Text

Bully - Ryomen Sukuna

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, fem reader, pet name usage, grinding, jealousy, non con, nerd/dork, cum shot, choking, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, pwp, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, praise

-`ღ´- wc: 4.2K

-`ღ´- a/n: this is sort of part two of a previous work I did a while back. There's a bit of reader x itadori here, but it mainly focuses on Suku ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

-`ღ´- synopsis: After avoiding Sukuna for almost a full year, he finally gets you alone in a hot tub. He does his best to make up for lost time.

It was your final year of college. It took you a long time to get here. Painful all-nighters and tough conditioning sessions. From years of academia and athleticism, you’d like to say you were different now. You were more confident, funnier, and more social, unlike the shy girl who was just thankful she wasn’t riding the bench all semester. You were no longer the small underclassmen stuck with doing post-game jersey pick-ups and moving goals all by yourself. You even made a few friends! Maki and Nobara helped you express yourself better and build your confidence.

There was one event that kicked off the semester, Gojo Satoru’s back-to-school pool party. It was set late enough that all students were back on campus, and able to attend the debauchery, but also early enough that there were no concerns about assignments, games, and practices. Everyone was still high off the summer with warm weather prickling at their skin.

The main allure that brought you to such an event took form in a pretty pink haircut and a bright toothy grin. Itadori Yuuji. You’ve been seeing him… maybe even dating by former terms instead of what Nobara called a mutual situationship or talking stage or whatever trendy term she blanketed over your dynamic with him. The summer was filled with Itadori pressed against your side during movie nights and screaming your name at your summer league games. Things were new. Things are different now.

You looked down at the mixed jungle juice swishing in your red solo cup. Maki was arm-wrestling men on the island counter while Nobara forced bottles into the mouths of those who lost against her. You could hear their girlish screams and cheers as they popped open another bottle on the table, making shots for the losers. You couldn’t help but laugh as another man sputtered and coughed out from the taste of Pink Whitney.

“What’re you giggling about over there?” You hear a sweet voice call out. You picked your head up noticing Itadori, looking as handsome as ever. You looked at him through your lashes, wondering if it was the heat of the room or just your skin warming up. You could feel your skin flush and the words die at the tip of your tongue as you took in the sight of him. His muscles pressed through his shirt, and he looked like he did his hair for once, the crazy pattern manipulated in a way that fit him perfectly.

“Nothing,” You quickly comment, realizing you must have left some awkward pause in the air.

“Mmmmhm. I don’t believe you.” He leans against the same counter as you, crossing his arms, biceps bulging and he comes close to you. He looks at the scene in front of you both. Maki slams back another cup as she gets ready to arm wrestle Todou. The large male made sure to roll his sleeve up, making a show of each intricate rigid muscle he owned. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his head, smirking as he slammed his arm down on the island.

“Who do you have your money on?” You jump. Itadori had leaned down, whispering directly in your ear. When you look over at him, he doesn't pull away. His pink lips and golden eyes looked more tantalizing up close. A weird feeling twisted in your stomach, and it wasn’t the absurdly sweet jungle juice made.

“Maki,” You say after swallowing down more of the alcohol mix.

“You really think she can win?” He asks, uncrossing his arm. Both of them rest on the counter, one on free counter space, and the other behind your back, making you move closer to him.

You sat silent for a second.

“Isn’t that a little sexist? to assume she won't win?” You accuse. Yuuji quickly looks down at you, trying to recover from the question.

“N-no, I mean Todou is just a bigger person.” He tries to reason with you but now you got him. A smile graces your face as he begins to blush and stutter about.

“I mean,” You turn to him, not caring that you were basically pinned to his hip. You gently grab at his shirt, directly above his belt line, hoping it would ground you. “It’s not about the size of a person, but more so the technique…” Your eyes hold his gaze, even though your heart rattled as you did so. “Right?”

He takes a gulp as your body rubs slightly against his. The cup you held was pinned against your chest and his, the only cooling material between the two of you. Before he can rattle off a response, there are cheers as Maki is lifted into the air by Yuuta and Toge. You look back at the sight, laughing with joy as Nobara forces Todou to chug from a “bitch cup”.

“Yuuji!” A voice calls out, you quickly step back, looking up at his best friend, Megumi. He points out back to where the party continues to flow. There are screams as girls are splashed by men jumping in the pool. Itadori’s hand that rested behind you now rests against your hip for a second. “Your brother is looking for you,” He states before leaning down to share hugs with Nobara and Maki.

Itadori sucks at his teeth, running his thumb over the seam of your skirt. He looks down at you and your once confident state has now reverted back to shyness. The mention of Sukuna made your heart thump in your chest and your hand burn. Your head throbbed as images flashed across your eyes whenever they shut for a second.

“Fuck,” he hissed, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Your body trembled as you gripped him slightly harder. Sukuna ran his nose against your cheek before pressing chaste kisses against your jawline. “So good baby, gonna make me cum.”

Itadori said your name before asking, “Do you want to come with me? I’m sure it’s something dumb.” He pulls you gently but you don’t give in. Instead, you look up at him with worried eyes and he takes that as you not wanting to be without him. He thinks for a minute as he continues to rub small circles into the side of your hip. You swish your cup around, preparing to chug the remains if necessary to avoid this icky feeling.

“Satoru has an in-ground hot tub gated in the back. Do you wanna wait there for me?” You look up at him with hopeful eyes. If you went there, you wouldn’t have to worry about running into Sukuna.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” You whisper, hoping no one else would hear your conversation as though you weren’t inside a large house party. He smiles down at you and leans in a little closer so he can whisper in your ear.

“That’s okay, I don’t either, so we can just go in our underwear.” You blush at his statement but either from the need to be away or from the surge of alcohol courage in your system, you nod your head.

“Atta girl!” Yuuji grabs your free hand, twirling you around, then using the motion to pull you into him. “The code is all ones!” He exclaims before he starts walking back to Megumi. “I’ll be there soon!”

And so, you chug the rest of your drink, opting to grab a smooth seltzer from the fridge before you walk back to the hot tub. You try your best to look sober as you walk over to the gated hot tub, hoping not to gain attention, or worse, show everyone you’re a sloppy drunk.

As you get in, you decide not to relock the gate, instead opting to remove your top and skirt before slipping out of your shoes. You almost stumble as you move toward the hot tub. You press a few buttons, unsure of what they all do, but still enjoy the rush of heat and jets pressing against your skin. You nervously drink the seltzer, wishing you took a shot for confidence before you came all the way out here.

As time passes, your eyes fall shut, allowing your head to lull over the side of the relaxing machine. A second turns into a minute, turns into a while. You knew Itadori should’ve been back at this point, and you start to feel pangs of regret. What if he just wanted to get rid of you? What if he forgot about you and was with someone else already?

Just as you tried to shake away your thoughts, you heard someone else slip into the water. You picked your head up, and put a smile on your face, ready to see and hear Itadori apologize for being late. Instead, a low whistle meets your ears before you can open your eyes.

Sitting across from you, sprawled out in all his glory, is none-other than the man you were trying to avoid. He wore an unamused look on his face, but regardless, his eyes ran up and down your frame, causing you to cover yourself with your arms. You feel small underneath his predatory gaze. You haven’t spoken to him since that event. You came to practice early and left late. You stopped studying around campus, instead opting to stay in your room to do work. You even made excuses on why you couldn’t go over to Itadori’s place or go to his games. A cocky smirk falls on his face.

“Have you been avoiding me, doll?” You didn’t answer, instead wondering if Itadori would show up and miraculously make Sukuna leave. Seeing him had your stomach twisting in ways the alcohol didn’t. You muttered something under your breath bringing your knees up as if it would make you feel safer. Thoughts of that night crawl back to the forefront of your mind.

Sukuna pulled his cock out, hard, dripping, and quickly grabbed your wrist. Your eyes widened as he placed your hand around his hard shaft. A soft grunt fell from his lips as he bent over you.

“Too scared to speak to me or something?” He moves in causing you to put your hand up against his thick chest, hoping to stop him from coming closer. His scent - his pheromones cut through your nostrils, and it oddly makes your mouth water and skin flush. The feeling of his shaft moving in the palm of your hands comes back to you, causing you to tense and compare it to the strong expanse of his chest. The way they’re both so smooth yet hard, rigid even.

He can see how nervous you look. The meek girl from last year is still in there. You may have changed your hair, worn sexier clothing, and even flirted with other men, but he knew you. He knew that you were still a nervous wreck of a girl who stuttered when she spoke, who analyzed the whole room before talking, who gets scared when her panties get wet. Probably still hasn’t even fingered herself open yet, and you’re in college? Pathetic.

You fall silent as Sukuna palms your waist under the water. His fingers slip over the fabric of your panties, moving upwards to hold your waist. You gasp at the speed of his movement. He manhandles you over his waist and sets you down on his pelvis. You jump as you feel something slot itself against your core.

“Now why have you been avoiding me, Squirt? Didn’t I tell you to text me?” You brace yourself against his broad shoulders as he whines your hips slowly. The movement causes your core to drag across his covered bulge. “After you made me cum in your hand, I wanted to see how ruined you were. Wanted to see that pretty face all confused.” Your eyebrows scrunched together at the fire rushing up your loins. The pit of your stomach felt heavy, like when Itadori would hold you close or look at you a certain way.

“I- That’s… That’s disgusting!” You finally whimper while he continued to use your body at his own will.

“Mmmhm. If it’s so disgusting,” He forces you to lean forward, propping your ass up out of the water. His fingers easily find your wet sopping hole, shoving your panties to the side to run against your opening. “Then why are you so wet?”

Your skin turned rosy at the words.

Why?

You didn’t know… You felt betrayed by your body, letting out soft angelic sounds while the demon of a man played and toyed with your body. Sukuna tensed his jaw at the sound. He wonders if his brother got to indulge in hearing you even though he told the whole damn school you were off limits. His. Only his.

He felt your nails dig into his skin as he slipped one finger inside your gummy walls. The intrusion caught you off guard. You pressed your body forward, trying to avoid the foreign sensation. It cause his finger to slide slightly out of your entrance, but he pressed forward. Sukuna curled his finger, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you. You whimpered in his ear, involuntarily twitching your hips at each movement. Your heart was racing, pounding in your chest as he pressed another finger inside.

“Stop,” You whined, pressing closer to him to avoid the foreign feelings festering inside of you. Your mouth hung open as the digits swirled and intentionally pressed against your walls. Sukuna gripped your hip, trying to stabilize you. He would never admit it, but watching you make a mess on his hand, unsure of yourself or what to do, did things to him. He ached for you. His cock throbbed in tandem with your pulsing walls.

He pressed his tongue out against your shoulder, biting against the soft skin. Your hand gripped his hair, trying to yank him back, only eliciting a groan and smirk from him.

“You’re being rowdier than last time.” You couldn't help but moan as he began to stroke your clit. You could feel your juices slip out of you, only to feel obscene when Sukuna pressed them back in. “And you’re so sensitive,” His words were lost on you.

You tried to sit up, bracing yourself against his shoulders in order to leverage yourself. Pleasure flushed through your system as you lifted your hips up and down his fingers, using him to get yourself off. Just as he did to you. He watched with half lidded eyes, grabbing and leading your pace by holding onto the fat of your ass. He leaned forward, nipping and biting at your breast, still covered by the thin excuse of a bra you wore tonight.

Something felt like it was going to snap inside of you. Sukuna pulled your head down, crashing your lips against his. Your kiss was sloppy and unnatural, but his was so confident and demanding. His lips slid against yours, teasing his tongue against the seam while he curled his fingers once more. The sensitive skin on your lips felt tingly from his attention on them.

Your stomach lurched, abs tightening up, body becoming rigid as a flush of nerves tingle up and down your spine. You pressed forward into Sukuna, biting down harshly at his neck while groaning. Your orgasm had your muscles shaking as they fought each contraction that rolled through. Sukuna groaned out from your harsh mannerisms but you didn’t care.

Everything felt heightened. The fabric against your nipples felt too sensitive. The breath coming out of you felt too heavy. Your eyes watered. Tears fell as you blinked a few times for clarity. Your throat felt dry and your body felt like putty. You didn’t oppose as Sukuna bent you over the edge of the hot tub. His hands played with your ass, groping and squeezing the material. He spread your folds open, admiring your pink walls that still spasmed from how well he finger fucked you. You shied away from his gaze, causing you to press away, still too sensitive from your early orgasm.

He did another low whistle and ran his fingers over the seams of your panties.

“Oi, you still with me, Squirt?” You nodded slowly, not sure what he meant by that. The hot water flushing around your skin kept you warm as the cool air bit at your exposed skin. You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, hoping the worst was over.

Sukuna let you have your time, he slipped his bottoms over his cock, letting it slap against his abdomen. He grabbed at your hips. You gasp as you tug back against his cock, slick folds parting for his thick veiny cock to rub against you. The man growled from how much cum and slick had slipped out of you. You were coating his cock in your essence, flooding it with your juices with every rut of your hips.

You let out little moans, feeling his tip catch on your entrance. You don’t want Sukuna. You don’t care how many women would die to be in your spot. You don’t care about the amount of men that want to be him. You hate the damn brute. He left such nasty images in your head from the last time he messed with you. You hate how…

His fat leaking tip slapped right against your twitching entrance. He pressed in just slightly, moaning at how your walls worked to accommodate his thick tip.

…You hate how…

How good this fucking felt.

You gritted your teeth as he continued to press in. You hunched your back over, trying to run from the burning feeling. It felt like he was splitting you open for Christ’s sake. You held tight to the edge of the hot tub, skin losing color from your grip. He bottoms out, lulling his head back from how tight and warm you are. Your cunt is quivering around him, begging him to cum right inside that little nerd body of yours. He palms at your ass and hips, gritting his teeth.

He doesn’t move at first. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, showing some restraint. Waiting for your body to accept him. You take some time to relax your back, and he takes that as the move to rock forward. His blunt tip rubbed against your cervix, fat veins pressing against your spot. You whined as he rocked an inch out and back in.

“Aaatta girl” He calls out to you, making you keen at the words. Nerds like you loved getting praise. Perfect 100’s. Amazing score marks. All fucking A’s on a report card. He leans over to get close to you. Your back is arched and he maneuvers your hair over to one side so it’s not in the way. He speaks in a sultry tone, low in your ear “I knew you could take cock well.”

You can't help but clench down at his words. You grit your teeth as he grinds into your pussy, sliding his cock against your walls. You moan as he angels his hips in circular motions, dragging his cock perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you. He grabs at your hair, tugging your head back, forcing your moans to flow out properly.

“Good fucking girl,” He groans. His eyes roll back as you continue to suck him back in. Every time he pulls out, your pussy works him back in. He knows that cunt wants to make a home for his dick. Yeah. Your pussy was made for him.

Sukuna stops with the slow grinding, preferring now to rail you like the slut you try to be now. He smirks as he looks down, changing pace. He doesn’t give a warning. You cry out as he pounds into you at a brutal pace. It hurt. It hurt but it felt so fucking good. Little “Ah, ah, ah, ah’s” fell from your lips. He couldn’t decide what looked better, the sight of your ass recoiling against his pelvis, only to leave a white streaky mess when he pulled out, or the cock drunk look in your rolled back eyes with your lips pink and swollen from his bruising kiss earlier.

He’s made you like this. No one else. No one, not even his damn brother, could come close to making you feel this way. The jealous thought of anyone even trying made Sukuna tense his jaw. He should've taken you from the front for your first time, that way he’d never forget the look on your face when you came on cock for the first time.

He grabs at your waist, forcing you to meet his thrust. Your insides feel stirred up, your stomach feels full, veins rushing with excitement. You panted between the other little sounds you made, opting to close your eyes. The sensations flooded your system more with no visual context. You could feel Sukuna throbbing inside of you. You could feel your pussy tingling with every thrust. Your clit felt swollen and throbbed whenever his balls would slap aggressively against them. You were gonna cum soon.

Sukuna reached below and pulled your bra down, making your tits hang over the fabric. The way they bounced while your nipples were so sensitive had you curling your toes for relief.

“This pussy is like a fucking dream,” He rasp, pulling out with hopes of not blowing his load too fast. The sight of your clenching cunt leaking, aching for something inside of it, it sent his mind reeling. He slotted his dick over your ass, only to feel your hips lift, trying to get him back in. Chasing that feeling from earlier.

Have you no shame? Aren’t you the one who worked so hard to avoid him? Now you’re bent over a hot tub at one of the biggest parties of the year. Your cunt is open for anyone to see, almost begging for someone to fill it. You can’t even admit how much you want it, want him, but here you are trying to cum on his dick.

He smacks the fat of your ass, lining himself back up.

Who knew a nerd could be such a slut?

Sukuna pressed in again, leaning over and reaching for your throat. He forced you up and back. One of your hands followed his, hoping for mercy, while the other tried to gain some leverage by pushing you up from the hot tub. He continued his rapid bruising pace, watching your body shake with each thrust. Sukuna dropped his gaze to your tits and lifted his hand to play with your nipple, squeezing and pulling it while you moaned.

“You gonna cum?” The man asks, pressing his fingers harder against the side of your neck. You felt drugged. From the lack of blood flow to the brain, to the heat, the alcohol in your system , and the cock destroying your insides.

“Hnnn!” You let out. Sukuna turned you to face him. You were tightening up and clamping, unaware of what was sure to be your demise. You opened your mouth, pressing your tongue out, expecting his. Sukuna’s skin flushed and he rushed for his tongue to meet yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand dropped to rub at your sensitive clit, forcing you to teeter over the edge.

Your scream came out muffled against Sukuna’s tongue. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you tried to pull away from his thrust. Sukuna didn’t relent, selfishly chasing his release as well. You fell forward and he followed. You pulled away from his kiss, gasping out as your orgasm started to become painful in its persistence. You tried to press a hand back to stop him, but Sukuna only grabbed it.

The way you looked back at him, fucked out, hot, needy, sore from the way he fucked you. You pretty pink lips whimpered out his name. “R-Ryo,” You cried, trying to escape his intense thrust. You intertwined your hand with his, clasping it tightly with hopes that it would ease up.

That is what made him cum.

Sukuna shoved your hips forward, slipping his cock out. He grabbed at his cock and forced you to stay still as he shot his cum over your ass. Seed spilled over your cheeks, drizzling towards the arch in your back and down over your folds. The sticky wet feeling made you shake in his arms.

Both of you were breathless from the altercation. The man leaned over, pressing kisses onto your spine and shoulder. The time spent silently in each other's arms felt relaxing. Your muscles began to relax, making you go slack against the edge of the hot tub. Sukuna watched your body intently, before resting his head against your shoulder plane. He hummed as his cock softened against your cunt, still enjoying the feeling of your swollen sex.

“Don’t ever avoid me again, nerd.” He whispers against your skin.

Even though you knew you would, you couldn’t help but nod in agreement to him.

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lexluvsmegs · 8 months ago

Text

Bet you could do better…

[Choso Kamo x fem!reader]

Synopsis ౨ৎ - After a recent break up, you search for comfort in the form of your long term best friend Choso. But what happens when he finds out the reason you weren’t all that into your ex is because he couldn’t make you finish?

Warnings ౨ৎ - smut ⭒ oral (f receiving) ⭒ Choso is basically so in love with you ⭒ dry humping ⭒ Choso cums untouched ⭒ a lil bit of fingering

Word count ౨ৎ - 1583

(18+ please if you’re a minor do not interact!)

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You weren’t upset, per se, however you did find yourself fed up with the lack of manors in which men possess. You’re sat on your sofa, glass of wine in hand and your handsome friend to your left. You had known Choso for quite some time now. He was extremely shy in the earlier stages of your friendship: flushing at any physical contact, stuttering over his words when you asked any questions, his voice ever so breathless during late night calls… But he had grown since then - well, except for the last point - and found himself to be more comfortable and open in your presence. You could even call him your best friend.

So who better to call than said best friend when you’re down in the dumps over your most recent break up. You had always been open with Choso with almost every aspect of your life. Except one. You see, ever since you met Choso you’ve harboured a small crush on the man. Can you really blame yourself? However, you made a promise that you wouldn’t do anything to ruin the beautiful bond created between the two of you. So that was that.

You decided to invite Choso round for a drink. Of course Choso was down, and so here he is now, sat on your sofa nursing a beer in one hand and fiddling the string of his sweatpants with the other. He wasn’t wearing anything extravagant, but the compression shirt he was sporting did little to hide his mouth watering muscles. You’re surprised you didn’t jump his dick when he walked in. You had some serious self restraint.

Choso makes a humming noise, breaking the silence, as he turns to you, asking if you want a refill of your wine. You shake your impure thoughts and gladly accept, scooting closer to his figure feeling the warmth radiate off of him. “So.. how you feeling?” He asks apprehensively. You appreciate his concern but aren’t too sure you want to remember the man who you foolishly went out with. “Fine. Don’t even know why I gave him a chance” you laugh slightly, feeling the ever so familiar tipsy side effects of your drink. Choso stared at you, almost in a trance, as if he was deep in thought. He gives you a look you can’t quite decipher. “Why do you say that? I thought you found him attractive?” You take another sip then turn to face him. “He couldn’t satisfy me” it was blunt. Blunt enough to cause a deep red to coat the tips of Choso’s pierced ears at the sexual implication.

He clears his throat. Was that too much? But before your thoughts can spiral, he takes a quick glance down to your lips before returning his gaze to your own and replies “oh yeah? In what way?” His voice was low and shaky, unsure of the words coming from his mouth. The eye contact you’re both holding is intense, it causes you to subtly rub your legs together for any sort of relief. “Uh, he couldn’t make me finish” you finally choke out after the initial shock of his boldness wore off. The tension was thick. You knew he could feel it too as you saw him subtly shift his free hand to hide his crotch. Oh. You swallowed thickly. Could Choso really see you that way? You can only hope. You drag your sight away from his lap and back to meet his own, already staring at you like you were the only person to ever exist. Choso always looked at you like you were fine art, but this time it felt slightly different.

You don’t know what came over you. You were trying to fill the silence you swear but the alcohol really messed you up when you blurted out “I bet you could make me finish” it was a whisper but still loud enough for Choso to hear every word. Fuck, you’ve definitely taken it too far now. You open your mouth to apologise, but Choso cuts you off with a short“Please.”You didn’t have to wonder what he was begging for for long as he soon follows up with “Please, let me make you finish.” He looks so pathetic pleading like this and it makes you so unbelievably wet. You don’t offer a reply as you place your drink down and grab his face, pulling him down to meet you in a desperate kiss. He follows suit in hastily planting his drink down on the nearest surface and grabs your hips returning the same heat to the kiss. You open your mouth granting him access as he slips his tongue inside, tasting the bitter wine left behind.

You’re getting handsy, throwing a leg over to straddle Choso, hands moving to grip his hair as he lets out an angelic whine. God, you can’t get enough of this man. He starts bucking his hips up as you feel the outline of his cock rutting against your clothed cunt. You soon break apart from the kiss both parties moaning at the stimulation. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long. Y’dont know how many nights I’ve fantasised about this very moment” it comes out rushed, but fuck, that turned you on even more. Choso got off to you. Pride swells in your chest at the realisation and you decide to reward him by licking and sucking your way down his neck, making sure to focus on the one spot that caught his breath.

“P-please take this off, wanna see those pretty tits” who knew Choso had such a dirty mouth. You follow his request, bringing the top above your head and shimmying out of your shorts. He’s in awe, basically drooling at the sight of your plush breasts. You giggle at his reaction. “Now you’ve gotta take stuff off. Only fair” you tease his already flustered self as he scrambles to get fully undressed. He’s beautiful. Sculpted by the gods. His abs are so defined, making you want to ride them, and his pecs are big enough to bite. Now the only thing separating your wet cunt from his throbbing cock is the thin fabric of your panties. Your wetness is seeping through causing a slick sound to form as you grind down on his now bare dick.

Choso fumbles to remove your bra and watches as your tits fall free from the restraint. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth sucking at it as if he expects milk to pour out. This has you moaning and squirming as you drag your nails down his chest causing marks to form. He soon removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers to keep the stimulation as he pants a “can I eat you out?” the pleasure has you speechless as you can only manage a nod at his request. He lays you down on your back, your limbs splayed lazily over the span of the couch. You’re impatiently awaiting Choso’s next move as he watches over you, he finally removes your panties and stares in awe at the view in front of him. “You are so beautiful” his words make you flush. “J-just hurry up” you reply, slightly embarrassed at your exposure. He lays down, coming face to face with your glistening cunt as he continues to mumble about how lucky he is and how pretty you are. When he finally takes an experimental lick you both let out desperate moans. “God, you taste so good. So sweet f’me” he spreads you open with both hands and takes your clit between his lips, sloppily lapping at your pussy causing you to clamp your legs around his head. Fuck, does he eat pussy like a champ. He’s got you squirming from the intense pleasure, his tongue teasing your entrance before going back towards your clit.

Choso can’t control himself, the sight before him is too hot to handle. He slowly starts to grind his dick against the fabric of your sofa. It’s so messy with the pre-cum spilling from his cock. He’s just as messy though, moaning shamelessly into your pretty, wet cunt with your juices all over his face as he chases his own release. It’s all getting too much as you grab onto Choso’s hair for dear life, practically humping his face, his nose bumping your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, he think he may have just become an addict as nothing sweet could ever compare to the taste of you. Choso’s whines get more desperate and so do yours. “Fuck! Choso, gonna make me cum.” A pornographic moan leaves him at this statement, showing he was the same. Choso suddenly adds a finger, curling it up to hit the spot that made your toes curl. That was your breaking point as your orgasm came crashing down. However, Choso didn’t stop, lapping up your release as he finally comes to his own panting like a needy dog.

You both take some time to calm down from your highs and soon find yourself sat back on Choso’s lap. “Guess I was right then” you smirk, kissing him as a form of gratitude. He looks so cute like this, so fucked out and you’ve not even touched him properly. “Now it’s my turn to return the favour” you say with a giggle as you slowly make your own way down.

It’s gonna be a long night.

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PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People!

#choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso my beloved #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso kamo x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year ago

Text

personal jesus

word count: 8.6k

pairing: stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your friends take you out to a strip club for your birthday, and you really hit it off with one particular stripper….

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. mentions of alcohol consumption, billy is in this fic (I promise he’s not in it for very long it just makes perfect sense for him to be a stripper OKAY 😭) lap dances, depictions of sensual dancing/strip routines, oral (m & f receiving), very brief mention of spanking, spit kink, unprotected piv, creampie

author’s note: well. I’ve been working on this for a while now and I’m extremely happy that it’s finally ready to be shared! I highly recommend listening to personal jesus by depeche mode while you read this, considering the entire idea for this came to me while listening to that song! I hope you all enjoy, I put a lot of time into this and I hope it shows.

It’s your birthday. A day to celebrate you turning another year older. Another year closer to death, and another year painfully single and alone.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. Turning 25 doesn’t exactly make you geriatric, but seeing the people close to you hit milestones in their relationships had you feeling a little insecure on this particular birthday. Nancy was engaged, Robin and Vickie just celebrated their 3 year anniversary of dating, Chrissy and Steve had finally made things official a month ago and were sickeningly cute together. It just had you longing for a connection.

You’d had horrible luck with guys lately, and it was weighing on you. You wanted someone special to spend your day with, someone to hold you at night and stick by you forever. Or, at this point, you were even okay with just having a little fun. Any sort of male attention was fine with you, wanting to end the drought you’d been experiencing.

So, it was only natural that the girls decided to take you to a strip club this evening. The car pulls up to the door of the seedy looking building, everything very discreet from the outside. You’re wearing a shimmery silver dress with very thin straps, the fabric stopping above your mid thigh. Sheer black tights with tiny sequins adorn your legs, accompanied by silver heels with straps that you wrap around your lower legs and tie. You step out of your Uber and into the parking lot, heels clicking on the pavement. Here goes nothing.

You pull the door open, being greeted by a rush of blasting air conditioning, and the strong smell of alcohol and cologne. You see all of your friends at a table close to the stage at the center of the floor, and they immediately turn and wave at you. You prance over to them eagerly, receiving hugs from all of them along with shrill ‘Happy Birthday!’s. Robin immediately pulls out a sparkly sash that reads ‘Birthday Girl’ and throws it over your head, letting it rest diagonally across your body. Her and Vickie had actually come up with this idea for tonight, knowing it would be fun for you to let loose a little. You all start to catch up with one another, diving into the latest gossip and life updates.

Conversation lulls briefly, Chrissy taking this as her opportunity to pull out a tray of homemade cupcakes from their hiding spot under her chair, Nancy sticking candles in each one.

“Guys, do we really have to sing?” you groan, smiling despite your reluctance.

“Yes! We have to sing you happy birthday!” Chrissy insists, her delicate hands grabbing your forearms gently and squeezing. “You’re 25! This is exciting!!”

Nancy’s hands hold a small lighter, fingers cupping around each candle as she lights them individually. The diamond on her ring finger glistens in the lights of the club, catching your eye. You snap yourself out of the self-deprecating thoughts before they can even start, remembering where you are and how tonight is about you. Once every candle is lit, the girls gather close around the table, singing happy birthday to you rather loudly and theatrically. You’re a flustered mess as you giggle at them, blowing out your candles swiftly after they finish. They all clap and cheer, Vickie passing cupcakes around on small plates to everyone. You order a drink, your personal favorite, deciding you need to catch up with your friends who already have their beverages.

The lights in the club dim as you take a bite into your cupcake, strawberry icing greeting your tongue. A spotlight shines on the curtain at the back of the stage, and several whoops and hollers erupt from club patrons, including you and your friends. Your drink is placed in front of you by a server, and you take a sip, letting the alcohol sear your mouth. An electric buzz runs through you as the first sip travels down your throat, and the house music cuts. A new song begins and your heart starts racing. As excited as you were, you’d never been to a strip club before, and you felt your cheeks grow hot in anticipation.

The song that plays is ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine, you recognize it instantly. As cliche of a choice as it might be, you can’t pretend like it isn’t the perfect song for something like this.

The curtains flutter and a male figure appears, your head whipping in his direction in an instant. You can’t deny, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, curly caramel hair styled into a mullet, but it totally works on him. His teeth are perfect, and his body, oh his body. He’s wearing leather pants and a white button up shirt. Most of the buttons are undone, exposing his muscular chest. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and you can tell his biceps are begging to break out of the fabric. He has a black bowtie snug around his neck, and for some reason it makes him all the more attractive. The crowd cheers as he parades around the stage, holding his arms out in greeting as he walks the perimeter. He makes a show of undoing the last few buttons on his shirt, fingers slowly popping them out one by one. You and your friends cheer excitedly, all of you in fits of eager giggles.

“This one is Billy,” Robin leans in and whispers to you. “I was informed there’d be three performers tonight, and based on the stars in your eyes we’re off to a great start,” she teases you, and you swat her away with a laugh, eyes still trained on the stripper, who you now know to be named Billy.

He trails his hand down his bare chest slowly, grinding his hips into his hand when it hovers over his crotch. You’re practically swooning in your seat and based on the wolf whistles erupting from women around you, you’re not the only one. He takes his shirt off fully, throwing it into the crowd haphazardly. He parades around a little bit more, showing off that spectacular body, before he stills and the lights change color. The song starts to fade out, fading into a different one.

‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails begins to play through the speakers, and you notice movement behind the black curtain once more. Another man steps out, a striking contrast to Billy. He’s lankier, very thin, and his energy is far more submissive. It’s attractive all the same, and your eyes turn their focus to him. He has a head of shaggy brown hair and bangs that fall in his light brown eyes. His arms and chest aren’t as toned as Billy’s, but it works for him. He’s also wearing the black leather pants and white button up that Billy came out in, finished off with the same black bowtie. He commands the room better than you’d have expected him to, kneeling on the floor of the stage, leaning back on one hand as he rolls his hips upwards. He moves fluidly, and the way his hand glides down to grab his dick beneath his pants makes you sweat.

“Who- who’s that one?” you ask the table, leaning into their personal space a bit too far - but you’ll blame the alcohol.

“Jonathan,” Vickie smiles, and you’re impressed that they seemingly did their research before coming here tonight.

Jonathan and Billy both walk to the end of the stage, right in front of your table, and they both catch the sash you’re wearing. They wink at you, somehow in unison although it couldn’t have been planned, merely a glorious coincidence, and you give a flirtatious little wave in their direction. Jonathan shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders, throwing it in the opposite direction of the crowd as Billy had thrown his. It’s funny, but until now you didn’t even take note of the shiny metal poles fixed to the stage. Each man positions himself at one, and your eyes are transfixed on them. You can’t wrap your head around the way the two of them spin on the poles, how strong they must be to support their bodies like that. Billy has toned arms and a defined chest, so he fits the type, but Jonathan… you wouldn’t have expected this sort of strength from him. You’re absolutely entranced watching them move, and you don’t know how much time has passed before the music starts to fade again and the lights dim.

Various whoops and hollers erupt once more, wolf-whistles and claps of hands, and you can only assume whoever’s about to come out next is the crowd favorite. You chew on your lip in anticipation, watching as Billy and Jonathan simply walk back towards the curtain, standing in front of it unmoving. The previous song has completely faded out, the room dead silent for the first time since you got here. It only lasts a moment, though, before a new song announces itself over the speakers, without warning.

Reach out and touch faith.

‘Personal Jesus’ by Depeche Mode, it’s not a hard one to clock after that opening line. The curtains open in the dark, a spotlight coming on to illuminate the new figure. Your jaw drops when you see him, luckily catching yourself before your drink falls from your hand. You don’t need any more explanation as to why he’s the fan favorite stripper. He’s gorgeous - long brown curls cascading over his shoulders, a sheet of wavy bangs falling just above his eyes. He has a silver lip ring, and a piece of black jewelry in his left eyebrow. He glides his tongue along his top row of teeth in a smug open-mouthed chuckle, knowing the effect he has on the room. He wears the same leather pants, but he has a black button-up shirt on in place of the white ones the other two men were wearing. The way he moves in perfect time with this song makes you believe he must have lots of practice - this is his song and he’s making that clear. He walks easily to the end of the stage, stopping right in front of your table. He unbuttons his shirt in the most sensual fashion you think you’ve ever seen, nimble fingers drawing out every movement, making it take longer than it truly needs to. You can’t help but giggle when Billy and Jonathan come to his sides, pulling the garment off of him. The shirt gets tossed directly at you, the glowing birthday girl, and you gasp in surprise.

“And this one,” Nancy leans in close to your ear, “-is Eddie,” she winks at you, your hands clutching the shirt as you stare up at the man on the stage.

He’s even more glorious with his shirt off, his body littered with tattoos that you think you might want to lick. He has a tie around his neck, not a bowtie but a standard tie, and he tugs on it with force, dropping himself to his knees as if yanked by a leash. His eyes meet yours, unwavering as he watches you. Deep pools of brown that you feel like you could drown in. He lowers his torso to the ground, reaching a hand out and closing his fingers maybe two feet from your face, as if grabbing something.

Reach out and touch faith.

He’s grinding against the floor now, Billy and Jonathan entertaining different groups in the crowd from different sides of the stage. Eddie leans back on his heels, rolling his hips up into the air, one hand tugging on that damn tie and the other gliding slowly down his body. He grips his crotch, the shiny silver rings that adorn his fingers glistening from the bright lights above. You think you see Chrissy literally swoon beside you, and even Nancy’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed pink. Robin and Vickie are slack-jawed - impressed with the way these three guys know how to command the attention of a room. Your heart pounds in your chest with every rumble of the bass over the blaring speakers, your brain melting into a euphoric feeling.

Just as you think you’re able to catch your breath, Eddie jumps down from the stage. Oh god. He approaches you, standing with his legs apart, leaving room for your legs to rest between his. He bends down to your ear, one hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Think the birthday girl deserves a special show, hm?” he rasps into your ear, and you feel your skin grow hot.

His hips roll in front of your face, you’re eye-level with his crotch. Your skin feels white-hot, you know all the attention in the room must be on this scene and you’re both flattered and a little shy. You have to refrain from reaching out to Eddie, have to refrain from letting your fingers glide up his stomach, feel him. As if reading your mind, though, he grabs your hands, sliding them up his stomach and chest, encouraging you. You’re so taken with him you don’t register that the other two strippers have joined him until Billy’s murmuring in your ear from behind you.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” his honey voice drawls, hands resting on one of your shoulders.

Jonathan comes to stand behind you as well, and in his hand is a shot of whatever liquor the girls had ordered for you. He holds it where you can see it, your head tilted back to look at him. He gives you a smile - one that momentarily shatters the raunchy stripper vibe and reveals his true kindness. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for you.

“Open,” Eddie says, smirking down at you while he resumes in giving you a lap dance, his hips grinding lower over your lap now. He’s as close as he can be without pressing his full weight on you.

Lift up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer

Your lips part, your whole body vibrating as Jonathan tips the shot glass down towards your mouth. The liquid falls in a single stream onto your tongue, and you swallow it in one go.

“Mmm, she knows how to swallow,” Eddie purrs, and you feel your face heat up under his intense stare.

You can only imagine the looks on your friends’ faces, but you hear their cheers for you along with the rustling of dollar bills that you can only assume are being shoved in the guys’ pants. Jonathan and Billy turn to head back on stage, but not before turning back to get one last eyeful of you. You blow kisses at them, giggling when they pretend to catch them. Eddie’s still focused on you, still invading your personal space. You’re squeezing your thighs together beneath your tight little dress, looking right into his eyes as he laughs to himself. He stands, walking around your chair slowly. Your left hand slips bills into his tight pants, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. Feeling a little bold, you grab his tie with your other hand and tug on it playfully, almost catching him off guard but he steels himself. He quirks an eyebrow at you, now standing behind you. He bends down, gravelly voice rumbling in your ear.

“You have no idea what that does to me, sweetheart.”

Your own personal Jesus

Eddie’s lips nearly touch your earlobe as he speaks. The way his breath makes your skin tingle can only be described as a religious experience. Ringed fingers caress your arm before he picks up your hand, placing a kiss to the back of your palm. He teasingly bites one of your fingers, flustering you for probably the millionth time tonight. He finally retreats, mouthing one last ‘happy birthday’ as he returns to the stage. He’s not done with his show though, joining his costars for a little bit of action on the pole that waits for him. His leather pants squeeze his ass so tight, you hope you’re not drooling as you watch him. You suddenly wish he was back on your lap, murmuring filthy things into your ear, fucking you senseless. But you can’t hook up with the stripper, you remind yourself, and you try to wave the thoughts away as you watch the rest of his little performance.

There’s no denying the way he locks eyes with you any moment he can, strong limbs wrapping around the pole as he seems to effortlessly spin a little. Chrissy reaches out to touch your arm, giggling excitedly.

“He can’t stop looking at you, ohmygosh!” she squeaks, pulling her lip between her teeth as you meet Eddie’s eyes once more, as if to confirm her statement.

“Where do I inquire about adopting a stripper?” Robin asks jokingly. “Yeah, um, I’d like to take that one home please… and can we wrap him in a pretty bow?” she says, pretending like she’s talking on the phone to someone important. “Seriously, I think he likes you,” she says to you, tone serious once more.

“Guys, come on. Do you know how many girls he probably does this same exact routine to?” you say, waving a hand dismissively and trying to be lighthearted, but you can’t deny the sting in your chest when you say the words.

Eddie is a stripper. This is a routine - a money maker. It’s all just a calculated game to him. He probably treats every other birthday girl the same way he treated you. Your mouth feels dry suddenly, and you throw back another shot to hopefully drown out the incoming sadness. Even if it’s a routine, it doesn’t make him any less hot, and it doesn’t mean you still can’t have fun, you think to yourself. You focus your eyes back up at the three gorgeous men on stage, watch as they move in unison, gyrating and touching their bodies and each others’ bodies. Cash is being thrown to the stage around them, raining down as the lights flash and pulse. Eddie keeps catching your eyes, winking at you for good measure. The alcohol in your system enhances the effect he has on you. He’s so close to you yet so far, you want to grab a hold of him and pull him to you.

Reach out and touch faith

The song comes to a steady close, music fading as the guys all bow and blow kisses and wave. You and your friends are all clapping and cheering with giddy delight, your head a wonderful swirl of explicit thoughts. They slip back behind the curtain, one by one, and your heart pangs for a moment when Eddie gives one last pointed wave in the direction of your table before disappearing behind the black velvet.

“Oh. My. God!” Chrissy’s mouth is agape, her lips shiny from her sparkly lipgloss. She fans herself, mock-fainting back into her chair, making the whole table laugh. You must sound like a bunch of schoolgirls, blushing and fussing over a few pretty boys.

“So, like, we’re not gonna drop the fact that Eddie is totally in love with you, right?” Robin asks, turning her body to face you.

You roll your eyes, fingers pressing into her arm as you shove her oh-so-gently. “Stoooop. He is not in love with me,” you say, biting on your lip to hold back a smile.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face! You, at least, are in love with him,” she says matter of factly, nodding her head once with finality.

“I am not!” you meekly defend, taking a bite of another cupcake to avoid talking more.

“Oh come on, babe, you’re not fooling me. I’m not into the guys, I was just watching for your reactions the whole time. You are sooo crazy for him,” she laughs, Vickie nodding along as she talks.

You feel your cheeks heat to an impossible temperature, shaking your head incessantly as you continue to devour your dessert.

“Hey, at least he gave you a little souvenir,” Nancy says, nodding towards the shirt that he’d thrown at you, which now rests on the table top. You’d nearly forgotten about it. The fact that it was once on his gorgeous body, and now you have it, makes your head spin.

The topic of conversation eventually shifts, easing the pressure on you to answer their every question about Eddie. Your thoughts, however, linger on him. You were totally fucking into him, and you’re screwed. All he was doing was acting out a routine, probably something he does for every birthday girl or bachelorette that steps foot in here and has money to offer. That fact didn’t stop you from wanting him, though, your mind wandering to how it would feel to have those rings of his pressed deep inside of you, his lip ring cold against your mouth and the skin of your neck.

“Hello? Anybody home in there? Did you have too much to drink? Oh my god, are we gonna have to take you to the hospital on your twenty-fifth birthday?” Robin’s voice breaks you from your trance, your eyes widening in realization that you’d totally drifted off to outer space for a minute there.

“What? Oh god, no. I’m fine, sorry, just zoned out a bit,” you give them a reassuring smile, not wanting them to press you again about the too-attractive men that were all over you tonight.

“No worries, we were saying we were probably gonna get going, it’s pretty late,” Vickie jumps in, sticking out her thumb and motioning towards the door.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m getting tired anyways,” you affirm, moving to stand with the rest of the table.

You bid your friends goodbye, giving each of them a hug and thanking them for setting this outing up for you. You decide to hit the bathroom before you leave, declining Nancy’s offer of a ride home, so they all go on without you. You make your usual promises to text them soon and plan another get together before they leave you, stepping out into the cool night and going home.

Entering the bathroom, you find that you’re alone, much to your relief. You stare at yourself in the mirror, genuinely enjoying your appearance tonight. You wonder if Eddie thought you looked good, too. You let yourself wonder if he truly was interested in you like your friends were insisting. Sighing, you sit down on the toilet, pressing your palms to your cheeks and tugging the skin down frustratedly. You wish you’d been in a setting where you could’ve asked Eddie for his number or something, or even just actually had the chance to talk to him, to hold a conversation.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you finish up in the bathroom, making your way towards the door to leave. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly feels too cold, giving you goosebumps, and you quickly throw on the shirt Eddie had given you to keep yourself warmer. It’s the only cover-up you have, so, what else could you do? You totally don’t think about how it smells like him as you approach the exit. Your palm presses against the glass door, heaving it open in front of you. Heels step onto pavement, your eyes searching your bag to ensure you have everything. But as you’re looking, you bump into another figure.

“Oh shit! I’m sor-” you go to say, but the words evaporate into thin air when you see who you’d run into.

His leather jacket covers his arms and torso, dark brown curls draped over his shoulders. He has a cigarette dangling from his full pink lips, and a silver lip ring catches the light from the parking lot lamps for just a moment as he turns. Deep brown eyes meet yours, a soft expression on them. He recognizes you instantly, of course.

“Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention,” he apologizes sincerely, eyes raking over your frame, but not in a way that makes you feel small or uncomfortable.

“No, that’s my fault too. Sorry,” you admit, looking down at your high-heeled feet. You’re suddenly shy, and you wish you had some more liquid courage to down right about now.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. If you didn’t catch it earlier,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N,” you tell him your name, taking his hand in your far softer grip, bouncing them once in a greeting.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyeing the black button down that rests loosely on your body.

“O-oh! Did you want it back?” you ask, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He wasn’t supposed to see you in his shirt, it was just to keep you warm until you could get home and change. Your eyes look towards the ground, suddenly too shy to look at him even though he’d quite literally been grinding on you an hour ago.

“Keep it,” he says, smiling brilliantly at you. “Looks better on you, anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice impossibly quiet. A small smile tugs on the corners of your lips. Why is your heart pounding so hard?

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, sweetheart,” he continues as if reading your thoughts, and his deep syrupy voice is reassuring as he places a gentle hand on your arm. “Promise I don’t bite…. unless you want me to,” he says, giving you a cute little smirk.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a giggle. You scrape the toe of your shoe on the concrete absentmindedly, looking down at it as Eddie watches you.

“Did y’have a nice birthday?” he asks coolly, his index and middle finger delicately holding the cigarette at his side as he leans against the wall of the building.

You feel your cheeks heat, and you curl your lips inward to hide your smile a little. “I had a great birthday,” you say finally. You shove your nerves down, reminding yourself of the way he was all over you before. Maybe your friends were right, maybe he really is into you.

You feel like the universe is giving you a chance here, giving you an opportunity to talk to Eddie one-on-one like you’d wanted. Better not fuck it up, you think as you prepare your next words. “There was this really hot stripper that made the day so much better…” you trail off, shyness still evident but feeling more confident under the way he eyes you up.

“Oh? Tell me more about him,” Eddie says, stepping ever so slightly closer to you.

“Well, he’s tall and muscular and so handsome, and he has really sexy tattoos…” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile as he watches you through hooded eyes, “and he just made me feel so special, and it’s such a shame I couldn’t get his number or anything…..” you sigh exaggeratedly, your doe eyes looking up at him.

Eddie smiles, and you swear it looks shy, like he isn’t used to the compliments or the attention. Like he doesn’t do what he does for a living.

“Well, I’ll have you know there was this girl… I hear it’s her birthday, actually, and she just made my shift so much better than it could have been,” he rambles. “She was just the prettiest thing,” he says, not breaking your gaze as he does.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your chin up to him.

“Yeah,” he says softly, looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “And I think I can do her one better than just giving her my number,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, half-lidded eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes and back down again. He purses his lips in a smirk, stomping his cigarette out with the toe of his shoe.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you?”

“Hm. That depends. You’re not a serial killer, are you?” you ask, teasing.

“Oh, shoot, sweetheart. You caught me,” Eddie says, holding his hands over his eyes and peering through his fingers.

You laugh, and he thinks about how he’d like to hear that sound a lot more. He reaches a hand out for you to take, nodding down at it. “Whaddya say? Care to join me?” he asks, and you meet his eyes as he peers through his bangs at you.

His open hand waits, silver rings catching the fluorescent light from the lamps in the parking lot. It beckons you, asking you to take it. The song from earlier rings in your head.

Reach out and touch faith

You take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Lead the way, handsome.”

Eddie’s vehicle is nice, extremely nice, actually. It’s a black Jeep, black leather seats with red details and stitching. The money he makes at the club clearly pays off, you suppose. Hell, you’d seen how much cash he’d been thrown tonight alone - including what you’d contributed. He has a pair of red fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as you swat them once, making them sway where they hang.

“Are you laughing at my dice, sweetheart?” he asks, shuffling into his own seat.

“Oh, no. I’d never,” you say, biting back a smile.

His sparkling eyes don’t leave yours, pulling you in, refusing to let you go. You notice his tongue dart out to wet his lips, notice the way he leans ever so slightly towards you. The tension in the closed space suddenly grows palpable, like you could slice it with your fingernail if you reached out.

You don’t make it to Eddie’s place. You don’t even make it out of the parking lot.

You’re the one to close the distance between the two of you, leaning over the center console of the car to press your lips to his. He grunts in pleasant surprise, his hands finding their way to your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your heart is racing, thoughts going a mile a minute as you process the fact that this is really happening. You can feel the metal of the ring adorning his bottom lip as your mouth glides against his, the jewelry not getting in the way but remaining noticeable. His tongue doesn’t ask for permission, just slides its way past your parted lips. It mingles with yours, swapping spit back and forth in a heated encounter. You bite his bottom lip and tug, toying with the metal ring with your teeth. He whines, pulling away from you the slightest bit, eyes half lidded as he jerks his head to the side, motioning to the backseat.

“Get in the back,” he pants, “need you right here, right now.”

You oblige, opting to get out of the car and actually go in through the back door rather than climbing ungracefully over your seat. Eddie follows suit, crawling towards you like an animal stalking its prey, not satisfied till his face hovers over yours, his mouth dipping down to meet your soft lips. He captures them briefly before pulling away again, moving down further to press kisses to your jawline, your neck, your collarbone. You feel his tongue and teeth against the skin, biting, sucking, licking. You whimper beneath him, raising your hips to brush against his. The chuckle that leaves his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, one of his strong hands coming down to push your hips firmly against the seat.

“Such a needy thing, hm?” he tuts, looking up at you with those big doe eyes before he resumes kissing your neck.

His hand holds you in place like it’s easy work, keeping you still when your body tries to writhe beneath him. The smell of his cologne fills your nose, intoxicating as you breathe it in along with the whisper of cigarette smoke from the one he’d had mere minutes ago. The chain around his neck dangles low, the guitar pick pendant brushing the dip between your breasts that your dress leaves partially exposed.

You remember the way he teased you inside the club, remember the way he let you tug on his tie, the way his hips gyrated above your lap. You grow wetter at the memories, more than ready to actually get to have him now. You pull his shirt off of your shoulders, playfully tossing it at him, mimicking the way he’d tossed it at you. His eyes go wide at it, a hand pressing to his forehead as he pretends to swoon, making you laugh. The shirt gets discarded to the floor, Eddie leaning back over your frame. He shoves the neckline of your dress down, freeing your tits for him. You went braless tonight and you’re thanking yourself for it, the ease with which he takes one of your peaked nipples into his mouth sending you reeling. He sucks on one, then the other, his hand always toying with the mound of flesh that isn’t currently being entertained by his tongue.

“Eddie,” you whine, arching your chest further into his touch.

“What is it, baby?” he purrs, the hand on your hip now skirting down your thigh, reaching the hem of your dress and hiking the fabric upwards.

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, not begging for anything specific but just for more.

He looks at you, leaning back on his calves, hands raking over your thighs as he slides back.

“Look how pretty you are,” he muses, eyes trained on the lace between your thighs. Your dress is pushed up so far, leaving you almost entirely exposed.

He presses his thumb over your clit, just a thin excuse for fabric separating his skin from yours. You suck in a sharp breath, bucking your hips slightly into his touch.

“Oh, she wants me to touch her so bad, huh?” he teases, finger stroking over the growing wet patch on your underwear.

“Please,” you whine again, gasping when Eddie hooks a finger into your panties, yanking them down.

His big hands delicately take your heels off of your feet, setting them on the floor of his car. He tugs your panties completely off of your legs then, letting them land wherever he tosses them. His leather jacket comes off as well, being thrown into the front seat. His black t-shirt hugs his biceps well, the fabric clinging to his body in a way that makes him so much more enticing.

He swipes a finger up through your folds, collecting your slick before bringing said finger to his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting what he can of you and moaning. You’re awestruck watching him, feeling like your heart is going to beat out of your chest when his eyes meet yours, dark and needy. He crouches down swiftly, settling himself so his face is right in front of your waiting pussy. His tongue sticks out, licking up your folds in the same pattern his finger had just followed. You cry out in pleasant surprise as he begins eating your cunt, a present perfectly unwrapped just for him. He presses his tongue inside of you, velvety muscle tasting every inch of you.

His hands grip your thighs, holding your legs open for him. Dark brown eyes look up to meet yours, and the sight is unholy. The way his lips attach to your clit and suck, the way he purposefully makes a show of dragging his tongue through your puffy, swollen lips, never once breaking eye contact. It makes you want to worship him, a divine presence for you to praise.

Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares

“Eddie…” you whine, screwing your eyes shut when his tongue flicks faster over your clit.

He simply hums in response, a pleased noise that vibrates against your core. He knows what he’s doing to you, he can tell by the way you whimper and writhe beneath him. His tongue stays focused on your clit as he brings two fingers to your entrance, slipping them easily inside of you. You gasp, tugging on his hair in desperation. He groans, a deep, throaty noise that catches you by surprise.

“Keep fuckin’ pulling my hair, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your wet heat. “Wanna know how good ‘m makin’ you feel.”

Your back arches into his touch when he curls those fingers inside of you, perfect pink lips still pursed around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, tension building and building in the pit of your stomach the more he winds you up.

“Eddie, I- I’m gonna-” you pant, fingers still entwined in his curls, eliciting more pleased sounds from him.

His fingers only move quicker in response, curling inside of you and bringing you right to the edge, letting you plummet into bliss. You clench around him, squeezing his fingers over and over as he works you through your high. You jerk your hips, suddenly overstimulated, and Eddie takes the hint. He removes his fingers, his mouth unlatching from your sensitive clit.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he grins, flashing those perfect white teeth at you.

You flush, scrunching your face in embarrassment before he leans down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you throb. You suck lightly on his tongue, letting out a breathy laugh when he grinds his hips against you in response.

“Fuck, angel, need to be inside you…” he murmurs, mouth pressing kisses to the shell of your ear.

“Mmm, not yet,” you reply, capturing his lips in another quick kiss. “If I don’t have my mouth on you in the next five minutes I’m not gonna survive,” you purr, mouthing at his jaw, sucking the supple skin of his neck.

He groans, raspy and deep, letting you mark him as your fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of his tight jeans. His erect cock hangs heavy in the thin fabric of his boxers, finally letting you gauge how big he is. You swallow, hand wrapping around the outline of his cock and squeezing. Eddie inhales sharply, dropping his head to rest on your chest. His arms tense as he props himself up, his resolve threatening to crumble with the way your thumb teases his tip through cotton fabric. You can feel the pre-cum leaking from him, sticky strings of it attaching to the pad of your finger as you tease.

“Baby, mmmmfuck,” he moans, looking back up at you with pleading eyes.

“Sit back,” you instruct him, removing your hand from his bulge. “Let me take care of you.”

He just about combusts when you clamber to the floor of the spacious back seat, tugging his boxers from around the taper of his hips. You let them drop to his ankles, pooling around his shoes. His cock springs free in front of you, heavy and leaking for you. The trimmed patch of hair at the base has your mouth watering, his balls hanging beneath like the perfect temptation. You open your mouth, making a show of sticking your tongue out as you tap the tip of his cock against it. You give teasing licks across the head, lapping up the pre-cum and tasting him properly.

He whines above you, his head thrown back and the veins in his neck pulsing. His previously cocky demeanor is gone in this moment, giving in completely to how desperate he is for you. It seems to be a give and take, both of you worshiping each other like the holiest entities.

You take him fully past your lips, saliva pooling beneath your tongue. You bob your head, coating him with your spit. The girth of him stretches your mouth uncomfortably, and you move slowly as you adjust to taking him. One of his hands flies down to your hair, gripping it to give himself some sort of leverage.

The sight of you on your knees for him, tits hanging free on your chest and your perfect lips sucking him right in has him feeling like he could melt into the seats of his car. Your big doe eyes peer up at him, feeling like a shot to the fucking heart.

“God, baby, your mouth feels like fucking heaven,” he praises, watching himself disappear into your perfect mouth.

You hum in satisfaction, picking up your pace. You take him until his head hits the back of your throat, making your throat restrict as you gag around him. The whine that comes out of him is sinful, there’s no other word to describe it, and it has you pressing your thighs together for some relief to your core that already aches for him again. His modest muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt, every inch of his body trying to maintain composure and failing. You grip his balls with one hand, holding the base of his shaft with the other. You pump his cock in your fist in tandem with how your mouth bobs on his length, other hand squeezing the squishy flesh of his balls simultaneously. He almost jumps off the seat his hips buck so hard, forcing another gag from you as his cock hits your throat again.

Your nose brushes the curly hair on his pubic bone, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mouth off of him, regaining your control. You continue what you’d been doing, both of your hands and your mouth working him closer and closer to release. Strings of curse words leave his perfect parted lips, the hand in your hair guiding the movements of your head ever so slightly.

“Babybabybaby,” he rushes out, a strangled groan escaping with the words. “Don’t wanna - fuck - don’t wanna cum yet. Need to fuck you, pretty girl,” he says, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

You press soft kisses to the head of his cock, the skin still flushed a darker shade of pink, ready and waiting to be inside of you. He pulls you up onto his lap, hands immediately cupping your breasts and squeezing as he presses a rough kiss to your lips. Your dress remains bunched up at your middle, your glistening pussy rubbing right against Eddie’s cock, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Eddie stops the slow rocking of your hips suddenly, as if startled.

“What’s wrong?” you urge, meeting his eyes that hold a guilty expression.

“I totally don’t have condoms…” he says sheepishly, biting his lip.

“Oh - I mean, we don’t need to use one, if you’re okay with that. I’m on the pill and I - I’m clean, and stuff,” you ramble, wondering why you’re finding it so fucking hard to get words out now.

“I’m clean too. Promise. I, uh, don’t exactly do this often,” he looks at you shyly, the demeanor unfitting for him. The confession that he doesn’t do this often admittedly makes your heart swell, all of those nervous thoughts you’d had about him earlier, about being part of a routine, washing away gradually. “But if you’d rather we don’t, it can wait till next time,” he continues.

“Next time?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Y-yeah. I mean, I mean if you want to see me again after thi-” you cut off his nervous stammering with a firm kiss, your fingers cupping his chin as you claim his mouth with yours. His nervousness makes him so much less intimidating, taking him down from being this larger-than-life entity, an unobtainable stripper who sees attractive women every night, to just being… a regular guy. A cute, sweet, charming guy who’s also insanely sexy.

Pulling away, he smiles lazily at you, kiss-drunk and awestruck. “Yes I want to see you again. And yes I want you to fuck me, right here right now,” you reassure him, your sultry gaze enough to make him do anything you could ask of him.

“Fucking deal, babe,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. His tattoos are on full display, and your eyes rake over him, your cunt pulsing with all of your filthy thoughts. He smirks at you, clearly liking the way you drink him in, biting his lip as you raise your hips slightly so he can position his cock at your entrance.

You sink down onto him without a warning, the two of you gasping in unison. You grip his shoulders for leverage, the stretch to fit him slightly uncomfortable despite your extreme arousal. You work yourself down, down, down, slowly until you’re fully seated on him. He sits heavy and thick inside of you, making you ache with an enticing kind of soreness. Your walls flutter slightly around him as you wiggle your hips around, getting used to the feel of him. His hands grip your hips, his lips parted and his eyes screwed shut as you start to find your bearings on top of him. You dip your head down, rolling your hips on him as you suck a brutal hickey into the column of his throat. Your teeth gnash at soft skin, tongue soothing the sting afterwards. A low growl escapes him, fingers squeezing your doughy flesh as he starts to rut himself into your soaked cunt.

Breathy moans leave your lips, your jaw hanging open as he fucks into you faster. Your tits bounce in front of his face, and he wants to take them into his mouth and stay latched on forever. Perfect swells of skin, all for him to touch and kiss and suck. His hands grip the soft globes of your ass as his mouth sucks the skin of your chest, making you moan when his fingers squeeze hard.

You’re so fucking full of him you feel delirious, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every deep stroke he delivers to you. His name is tumbling from your mouth in a rhythmic pattern, over and over, like a prayer. You really can’t get that damn song out of your head from before, and it makes so much sense why he chose it to be his.

Your own personal Jesus

You want to praise Eddie right beneath the roof of his Jeep. Want to shout his name from the rooftops, make the whole world know how good he’s fucking you right now. You want to follow every word he says, every command he gives you. You want to pray to him every night before you go to bed, you just want to worship him. The way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his lips suck on your neck make you feel like you’re being worshipped, too. He sucks and squeezes and fucks like this may be his last opportunity to, like he’s savoring every possible bit of you and committing you to permanent memory.

You bounce on his cock, gaining some more control as Eddie’s thrusts slow down with fatigue. You take the reins, cupping his face in your hand and kissing him hard. Licking into his mouth desperately, humming when his tongue meets yours. But then he somehow takes control again, making you pliant for him even as you ride him with vigor. He squeezes your jaw, letting your mouth fall open before he spits into it, a string of his saliva dropping onto your tongue. You swallow it, not needing to be instructed, and you swear Eddie gets even harder inside of you. You recall Eddie’s comment from earlier, when Jonathan had given you the shot. ‘She knows how to swallow.’

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, jaw tight and the veins in his neck prominent as he stills your bouncing on top of him and thrusts up into you.

He goes so deep you’re left seeing stars, lurching forward and gripping his shoulders for stability. Your body feels like it could crumple into itself if you let it, every one of your limbs overtaken with pleasure. You feel a familiar tension building higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the occasional smacking of your lips against his fills the vehicle, the air growing humid with every hot breath that leaves your mouths. The sounds he makes are downright obscene, any bit of composure he’d had completely slipping away for you. His thrusts get faster, faster, and you let your fingers drop down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud.

“Ohhhh fuck baby,” Eddie moans, watching the way your head tips back as you pleasure yourself. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Eddie,” you cry, thighs trembling as your orgasm crawls closer and closer.

His fingers squeeze your hips impossibly tight, one of his hands letting go only to deliver a swift smack to your ass. You whine, cursing under your breath as the pads of your fingers circle your clit again and again. Eddie fucks you ruthlessly, pulling almost entirely out just to sheathe himself inside of you again, taking your breath away. The friction and the fullness is euphoric, your body giving way completely to pleasure as your second orgasm finally rips through you. You’re screaming out for him, chanting his name again and again as you come undone on his cock. You soak him, lewd, wet noises coming from you as he continues to thrust beneath you.

“‘M gonna cum so fucking hard, baby,” he rasps, looking at you through his lashes. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Inside Eddie, please,” you rush out, begging him to fill you with his seed. He lets out a strangled whine at this, gripping your flesh even harder.

You swear his eyes roll back into his head, hips stuttering and his cock pulsing as you feel the warmth of his cum painting your insides. His final thrusts are sloppy as he gives you every last drop of his cum, your mouth hung open in a silent moan at the overwhelming sensation of him gliding against your sensitive walls.

His chest is heaving with each breath he takes, his palms splayed out across your lower back, holding you close to him when you slump forward. Your legs feel like jelly, weak and trembling from exertion. Your mind is fuzzy in the best way, a smile on your face when Eddie tilts you to look at him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your entire face, loving how blissed out you look. “Wanted to have you all to myself during our whole show tonight, god…” he continues, smirking a little as he shakes his head.

“I could say the same to you,” you reply, looking at his lips as you talk.

His mouth catches yours in a lazy kiss, tongues dancing together sloppily. His fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, slowly guiding you up and off of his softened cock.

“So, do I have to shove more dollar bills in your pants for all of that, too, or?” you joke, earning a laugh from Eddie that presents itself in a harsh puff of air from his nose.

“Nah, that’s on the house, baby,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

You both sit in silence for a moment, your delicate fingers tracing patterns up and down his arms. He looks at you like you’re an angel sent from the heavens, those chocolate brown eyes admiring you in the kindest way.

“Do you, uh, still wanna come back to my place?” he says finally, that ill-fitting nervousness creeping back into his voice.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to ponder, pulling your dress back up over your breasts and tugging the hem to rest normally on your thighs. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have a stripper pole in my living room,” he says with a smug grin. “I’ll give you your own private show.”

“Sold.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stripper!eddie munson #stripper!eddie munson x reader #stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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alwaysanundertone · 1 month ago

Text

Day 20: lap dance | Mattheo Riddle

smut

TW: oral (fem receiving), facesitting

You were drunk. It all started with a silly conversation with your friends. They accused you, once again, of being to shy and a bit boring, only because your favourite activity on a Saturday night wasn’t going to a party, preferring to cuddle up with one of your plushies and a hot drink.

Usually, this wouldn’t affect you. This time, though, you hated how everyone seemed to deem you as the boring one, and you hated how your crush never seemed to consider you. You hated how Mattheo Riddle was always flirting with someone else, how he never looked at you, how he only talked with you when he needed something, like your homework.

So, here you were, on a Friday night in a skimpy skirt and a nearly obscene shirt, showcasing your breasts for everyone to see. It pained you to admit that you were having fun, the alcohol making everything seem so colourful and hazy. You swinged your hips a bit too harshly, your feet tripping in your high heels, ending up in someone’s arms.

“woah, L/N, what the fuck” You looked up, staring into Mattheo’s eyes, getting a bit lost in them before getting out of your daze.

“Sorry” You whispered. Even in this state, you felt awfully shy in his presence. You made to go away, only for him to grip your arm.

“Hold on, baby. It’s the first time I’m seeing you attending a party, what brings you here?”

You scoffed. “I just wanted to dance, is there a problem?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Woah, so feisty, I kinda like this version of you, you know?”

“Well, I know it might sound shocking, but my main goal isn’t being liked by you, so”

“Drop the attitude, love, I know it’s all a façade, I know you”

The audacity this man had, he never, ever talked to you and now he was sating shit like that; you laughed. “Since when do you know me? Because you barely talk to me”

“But I’m a good observer” You widened your eyes. You didn’t expect this, Mattheo Riddle noticed you? That must have been a joke. “Yeah, baby, I do; I know you’re shy, and that this is not your favourite way to spend a Friday night. Usually, you’d be in the library”

“I’m not shy”

“You are”

“Am not.”

“Prove it, then. I bet you won’t get on stage” You felt the colour drain from your face. “Exactly. It’s okay, love, not everybody is outgoing, and”

“Hold my drink”

Everybody was too drunk to notice you, anyway. You took a tentative step on the little stage, a random guy helping you in the process. All the while, you felt Mattheo’s burning gaze on your skin. It was too late to chicken out any way.

You started moving your hips slowly, catching up to the sultry music that the dj was playing. There was a small crowd under you, suddenly you found yourself enjoying all the attention, but most of all, you enjoyed Mattheo’s attention, you swore you could feel his eyes drinking you in, making you feel way more adventurous. Without giving it much thought, you started unbuttoning the first few buttons of your blouse, showcasing your bralette for everybody to see; you toyed with the fabric: were you really about to stand in your underwear in front of everyone? You kept moving your hips, turning around, your ass following your every movement.

As you were about to toss the fabric away, you felt a strong pair of arms circling your legs, suddenly you were hanging from Mattheo’s shoulder. “What the fuck, put me down!”

“Huh-huh, hush, you’re not about to show what’s mine to this group of… of idiots”

You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to close it afterwards; was this a sick joke? Why was Mattheo referring to your body as his? You didn’t even know him, you barely talked. When you felt him climbing up a set of stairs, though, you became quite alarmed. “Where are we going?”

He chuckled. “To my room, gorgeous.”

You widened your eyes. “But- but I don’t even know you?”

He scoffed. “Please, you’re always watching me in class, I think you know more about me than Theo does”

Your cheeks reddened. “Fuck off, your ego is suffocating me. Also, my friends will be really worried when they won’t find me”

Suddenly, you were sat on his bed, the velvety duvet pressing on your exposed thighs. “I told Theo to tell them you’re with me.”

You felt really fucking annoyed. “I’m not yours, dickhead, you can’t just grab me like that, do you think I’m a doll to use? I think not”

He stared you down, his gaze so intense you had to avert your eyes. “I have a crush on you”

Your eyes were on his again. “What?”

“And I know you like me too, or you think I’m really funny because you’re always looking at me in class, smiling. Spare me the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ talk, because you do.” You hated when people treated you as less, and you felt like a baby, sitting in front of an adult, being scolded. “So, I think-”

You didn’t think. You got up abruptly, his collar in your hands, pressing your lips to his. He melted into your touch as you swept your tongue over his bottom lip, grinning. You suddenly felt a bit courageous, maybe too adventurous. As you pulled out your wand, you did wonder if what you were about to do was worth it, if you would have regret it in the morning, but you only live once, right? And he basically just told you that he had feelings for you, so might as well live a bit. You casted a spell on Mattheo, immobilizing him.

Sat on the bed, he made to reach you but couldn’t. “What-“You put on some music, ignoring him.

Locking eyes with him, you toyed with the last bottom left. “I think you deserve to see the end of the show”

He groaned, and you couldn’t even recognize yourself if you were being honest. You took of your shirt, throwing it in his face, leaving you with your black bralette on, your nipples showing. “Do you like what you’re seeing, baby?”

He smiled up at you. “Yes, gorgeous. I’d like to touch you, though”

You tsked. Moving your hips to the music, you toyed with the hem of your black lace panties that were peeking from your skirt. “Should I take this off?”

He groaned. “You should, baby. Also, I think that you should really come and sit on my face like a good girl. I could make you feel so good, honey”

“I don’t think I should” You dipped down, your face level with his, then turning around and bending down, your ass in his face.

“Fuck, you’re torturing me here. Let me touch you, love, I can make you feel so good”

As much as you wanted to torture him just a bit longer to make up for all the lost time, you found yourself impossibly wet. “I wish I was stronger than this” You took away your spell.

As you straddled his hips, he smiled up at you. “I really prefer it this way” He moved back while swiftly gripping your ass, encouraging you to move over his face, and you obviously did.

With his index finger he pulled your panties to the side, emitting a soft gasp immediately after. “Baby, are you this wet from only kissing me?”

You blushed, trying to hide your face between your hand, failing miserably as he caught them by your wrists. “No hiding, love, I find it so hot” His arms suddenly circled your creamy thighs, his mouth connecting with your clit.

Your eyes crossed, thighs trembling as you reached for the headboard for some type of stability: you found hovering quite difficult, you kept losing your balance. However, you didn’t want to lay all of your weight onto Mattheo’s face.

You looked down, locking gaze with him as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, your eyes crossing. One of his finger entered you, and you couldn’t hover anymore, you fell onto his face.

“Fucking finally” He mumbled into your heat.

“Wh- oh fuck- What?”

He stopped sucking on your clit for a bit. “I felt you hovering, and that’s not how it’s done. I want your whole weight on me, fucking suffocate me and I’ll die a happy man”

Your mouth fell open as he resumed devouring you, this time not stopping when your thighs started shaking, nor when you gripped his brown locks between your fingers, he just kept going until you came, screaming his name, grinding down on his face.

You flopped down on the bed next to him, your chest raising and falling rapidly, your body still slightly trembling. He chuckled. “Now, love, how was it?”

You closed your eyes, scoffing. “Shut up, Riddle, you don’t need to boost your ego. Come here” And just like that, you resumed kissing.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

#mattheo riddle #kinktober 2024 #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #smut #mattheo riddle x reader

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playerninth · 1 month ago

Text

P.S I LIKE YOU (TOO) ⪧ DAY 13 OF PIWONTOBER

non idol!jiung x fem!reader (smut mdni)

彡 – everything transpired after a single drunken mistake—you and your best friend getting inspired after watching: ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ one friday night after midterm week had dragged on. except, you weren’t lara jean covey. and no one’s exactly a peter kavinsky in your life. all you’ve got is a last chance to retake your econ class for the second time, and an undeniably attractive guy as a project partner. a thought you wouldn’t express out loud. but what if he accidentally receives your drunk written love letter detailing just how much you thought of it so?

author's note: the way this thing had a billion revisions before reaching this stage... anyway, although i'm incredibly late TT i'm still very excited to share with you guys yet another jiung fic!! also, i can't forget to mention how amazing @kisseobie and @sxfterhearts are for hosting piwontober & bringing the p1ece community together♡ it's my first time joining these sort of events, and i had a lot of fun writing! + apologies for any typos! :(

word count: 7.9k

warnings: smut, blackmail, make up sex, face-sitting, seven minutes in heaven

comments are welcome♡ i'd love to hear your thoughts!

despite being drunk out of your mind to the point you've written that piece of tangible regret, you remember the same night all too well—the clock ticks past after hours as the mingling whiff of alcohol and a box of left over pizza hangs in the air. you were surprised you've managed to drag yourself all the way to the weekend, remnants of grueling exams left unspoken between you and your best friend whom you share a dorm room with. midterms weren't really worth mentioning when you could drown in gossip and delude about your hypothetical boyfriends.

from random guys in class, to boybands, and above all: celebrities in cheesy romcoms you've rewatched an abnormal amount. that certain night's choice was a classic between you and your best friend: 'to all the boys i've loved before.'

except, you weren't lara jean covey. and no one's exactly a peter kavinsky in your life. yet, hell breaks loose when you receive a text from choi jiung one fated morning that had you unleash a piercing shriek, and thankfully, had locked yourself in a stall at an empty bathroom in the middle of your university campus.

not like that makes things any better than they already are.

enclosed within the four cramped walls of the bathroom stall was a feeling you'd never forget—the continuous drip of the leaking faucet and silence amplified the thudding beat of your heart. the screen of your phone glowing faintly as you stare at the message you've left on read for the past five minutes: a photo jiung had sent of the letter you've written that certain night after getting wrongfully inspired from lara jean's dilemma. unfortunately detailing an exaggerated confession on your unfiltered thoughts of jiung being totally attractive. hot, even. a running commentary on everything you wouldn’t express out loud.

this fiasco would probably cost you a couple of months avoiding a bottle of soju, because how are you going to dodge yourself out of this one? especially when his follow up message adds further salt to the wound—the envelope clearly stating your full name and address in bold, inked letters.

the seconds stretch out as the cramped stall started feeling a bit stuffier, your shaky fingers hovering over the keyboard in contemplation. you’d normally block him and just fail the damn class if it were like any other instance, except… it was your last chance to retake this subject. you couldn’t afford another fuck up.

[9:07] jiung: this letter’s handwriting strangely matches the one on your notes

[9:09] jiung: before you try to deny anything

all you ever wanted at that moment was to strangle yourself... because a love letter so vulnerable like that has no place being in a pile of notes, and to be given to your partner for a class project. when you thought handing him the material would be the end of it (after being utterly sick of his self-centered work ethic), but the universe had plans otherwise.

[9:13] y/n: it wasn’t something you’re supposed to see

[9:14] jiung: but i did

[9:16] y/n: i was drunk, okay? can we please forget about it?

[9:18] jiung: and people say drunk words are sober thoughts

[9:20] y/n: do i look like i care about stupid bullshit like that rn

[9:22] jiung: oh

[9:22] jiung: so you don’t care if people other than me see this letter?

[9:23] y/n: what

[9:24] y/n: you can’t just use that against me??

[9:26] jiung: let’s see how well this thing means so much to you then

[9:27] y/n: ???

and when you thought you’d never see the pulsating, message bubble as he types as such a dreadful thing, your nerves suspended in the most excruciating minutes. 9:28, 9:29… 9:30...

[9:31] jiung: main library, 2pm, this friday. oct 13

that was, a distant week ago. you figured you should probably show up this time, all in the name of having the existence of the letter stay between the two of you. even if it meant having to deal with the growing habit of waking up in the middle of the night from the anxiety crawling upon your thoughts. until once and for all, the day came.

your feet felt rather heavier that day, dragging your mopey figure through the winding halls of the university. the halloween spirit on campus feeling far too suffocating, the orange and black streamers hanging from the ceilings a mere blur. other people were buzzing about the upcoming university halloween party at the end of the month, yet all you ever wished was that you were some random skull decor perched at a corner, undisturbed. and that you weren't nearing the doors to the main library, a sight that you loathed with your whole being.

and there he was, choi jiung. the guy wreaking havoc in your life. okay, well—maybe not that actively, but he's been a constant force you're trying to push toward the back of your mind ever since you made such a stupid mistake, to the point you don’t even know how you could redeem yourself.

“hey,”

“hey.” you're surprised you even managed to croak out a reply, finding yourself unable to maintain eye contact with him for more than two seconds–pathetically.

you were about to claim the seat in front of him before he raises a familiar envelope nestled within his fingers, and you wasted absolutely no time at the chance. snatching the thing with vigor just to rip it to smithereens, earning a few glares from other people in the library. you couldn't care less.

jiung lets out a laugh underneath his breath, adorably irritating so, as he watches fragments of the letter fall before him like confetti. you finally settled on a seat across him, and the further time dragged on, the more it seemed to prove your written letter right.

he was undeniably magnetic, from the way his clothes drape over his shoulders, his bangs framing his face with its stark black—the waft of his perfume despite the distance. your gaze can't help itself from shifting over to his fingers with every turn of a page, almost as if he was the perfect distraction.

and that tie sitting on his collar, really? what was his major again? you couldn't be bothered to muse over whether or not academia fashion was a staple for whatever program he was taking, especially when you couldn't blame him. 'cause he truly held a sort of charm that makes you wanna ravish him right then and there. that you had to remind yourself: time and place, his glasses beginning to lean crooked subtly to the side before his finger pushed it further up his nose bridge. ultimately turning back to you—who already had eyes on him, locked.

jiung speaks, faintly registered in your currently preoccupied head. honestly, the only qualm you carry against him is that he wants to get things done, his way. which is partly the reason why this partner project has gotten awry, his ego clashing a horrible amount with your stubbornness. guess not everyone can have it after all.

of course you had to have it figured out eventually. even if it had to cost you biting down your tongue from spewing possible scathing remarks with his every word. due to the fact that any moment you tried to challenge his ideas, he'd quote all the lines he could possibly remember from your embarrassing letter. and it was only the librarian's stare pinning you down from grabbing jiung by the hair out of annoyance, because the both of you were causing quite a bit of disturbance.

“you know, i can't deny that little love letter of yours was kinda cute.” he leans forward, loving the way your face morphs into irritation.

“cute? you think it's cute that i accidentally confessed about—” you caught yourself, clearing your throat before rolling your eyes at him. “i mean, whatever. just concentrate.”

“hey, hey. finish it. about what? your quote on quote, suppressed feelings for me?” god, you so badly wanted to slap that smirk out of his face.

you could only manage to groan, running a hand through your hair. “no! i mean my deep annoyance at your inability to take me seriously, to take this project seriously!”

“excuse me, could you keep it down? this is a library.” you immediately turn towards the librarian, clutching a hand over your mouth at the realization that you might've… raised your voice a little too loud.

“sorry,” you muttered, eyes fixated on your notes sprawled over the table. “we were just—”

“working very loudly?” the librarian cut you off, and the worst part is–jiung still had the audacity to look at you with much mischief in his eyes. and that stupid smirk. “if you can’t keep quiet, i'm kindly asking you to leave.”

and that was… the last of what you've heard once you began gathering your things out of embarrassment, jiung trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you pretend you don't even know who he is, walking towards the nearest exit.

maybe choi jiung really is a constant force in your life. despite the day at the library being the last time you’d spend with him until presentations came tomorrow, it felt as if he never really left your mind. constantly drifting like a cloud over your head, lingering. and you so desperately wanted to bury him as a distant memory. busying yourself with other major projects, going out with friends, and the main event that the everyone’s been buzzing about for weeks: the awaited university halloween party.

it worked to distract you for the most part, lost within the crowd sprawled over the expanse of the green field, now only a crackle of grass beneath your heels. lights flickered along with the thump of the music’s bass. you watched the collective silhouette of people dressed in costumes, either tipsy out of their mind or buzz undying. you’d probably be seen with a red cup full of alcohol in hand, if you hadn’t sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t be touching a bottle of soju until a few months time. remnants of your little disaster from not too long ago trying to haunt you.

and so you turned to the cold air nipping at your bare skin, which you have to thank your skimpy little black dress for. the racy outfit you’d put together in an excuse to dress up as a witch, seductively at that. you partly regret bringing your witch hat with you despite contemplating about it a while ago, having to deal with the thing repeatedly slipping over your eyes. making a simple task of opening your phone to a flood of text messages, a challenge. after a couple of foiled attempts, you managed to get the gist—and that your friends are waiting for you at some frat house to join an after party.

the main event endlessly unfolds despite midnight fastly approaching. dragging your feet towards the front part of the crowd where it pulsed with much more energy, hopefully making your way towards the right direction of the area near the frat house. the music echoed like it wanted you to stay for a while, lose yourself to the beat as you tried to keep your witch hat tilted upright. not until another drag of the hat back up had your eyes flickering towards the dj manning the booth. keeping the night alive as lights hung overhead, casting a glow behind his figure and perfectly accentuating his side profile. yet the more your gaze traced the curve of his nose, the tousle of his hair as he let himself move to the rhythm.

for a split second the lights confirmed your suspicion, except you didn’t want to say anything. say his name, his everything, crawling back to your mind. you’d even forgotten why you were trying to erase him from your thoughts. maybe, just maybe… it wouldn’t be too bad to keep your eyes rested on him this time around. and it wasn’t as if you could turn away if you tried regardless.

there was something about catching sight of this side of him you never knew he had. at that moment, it felt like it was only the both of you existing in a bubble of your own. there was quite a distance between his position at the makeshift stage and yours below; nevertheless, the sparkle within his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. and in that moment nothing else mattered, the difficulty of trying to tear your stare away from him weighing over you.

no, no, no. not again. not this time.

the after party at the frat house, right.

reality comes crashing in once more, blinking rapidly as you tried to bump your way through the crowd. glancing everywhere you could to seek refuge, any way out, somewhere. mind racing with a mantra, “forget him forget him forget about him,” suppressing everything you’ve ever thought of the moment you laid eyes on him. chalking it up to the fact that it was probably your unrequited feelings for him hitting you like a brick. but… it wasn’t like you were ever serious about him, weren’t you?

your feet felt heavy trying to keep him out of reach, away from the taunt of his presence. the further you tried to push through what seems to be the edge of the field had you jostled within the crowd, and it didn’t help the flashing lights began disorienting your vision. you hastily fish your phone out, scrolling for past messages to double check the location of the frat house. except you realized, you weren’t really sure where to go from here.

your chest tightens. trying to take in sharper breaths as the mass of people were closing in around you, trying to push more, yet was met with more resistance. the smell of alcohol and loud noise started swallowing you, panic rushing through your veins. this is bad. this is really really bad.

and all of a sudden you heard a faint call, your ears picking it up with its subtlety. it was a brief echo through the music, until you heard it once more.

“y/n! over here!”

you swiftly whip your head around to scan the blur of faces, pulse quickening—at last, your gaze landing on someone familiar.

“i’ve been looking for you for ages.” he pants, trying to catch his breath from approaching you through the tight crowd. yoon keeho, although clad in a rather comical vampire costume, brought you a sense of relief.

“you okay? you look…”

“yeah, i’m just…. i got a bit lost.” you admit, lacing your fingers through your hair after finally taking off your witch hat.

keeho lets out a laugh beneath his breath, earning a piercing glare from you before extending a hand out to point. “you’re better off at the after party with me, everyone else is here so… it isn’t too crowded there yet.”

you hum, clutching your purse before following as keeho steps towards the way out. “come on,”

and at that, the both of you slip away from the field with its chaos, music fading far beyond the distance.

within the frat house lingered the scent of alcohol from a previous round of beer pong. it was dimly lit, but you’ll know empty red cups are strewn around from its hollow crunch beneath accidental steps. the door trickled bit by bit with newcomers, the party outside eventually simmering down to a hum, occasionally cut with bursts of laughter and constant conversation. thank god keeho had found you.

yet that was a while ago. you couldn’t decipher the exact time but it seemed way past midnight. it was a stark contrast to the huddle of people buzzing in excitement, your figure amongst them in a circle on the floor. it was probably, what… like the third or fourth round of seven minutes in heaven? the poor closet door slams open to another couple exiting, far too all over each other than you’d like to witness.

it was like that for the past thirty minutes, having to sit through rounds of people shutting themselves within the closet as you were forced to hear thumps against the wall hear and there—and you’d rather not find out what had gone on. the soju bottle in the middle of your formed circle felt like a threat as it waits to be spun, yet you couldn’t manage to grasp out of the situation from keeho’s grip on your wrist.

“you’re not leaving until the bottle points to you.” his fingers tighten his hold, his other hand bringing a drink up to his lips.

"keeho, i don’t know these people!” you whisper-shouted, narrowing your brows at him.

and it wasn’t helping that it was proving especially difficult to take him seriously with the vampire get up he had on. "that’s the thrill about it? and when i thought you’ll live up to your words when you told me you’ll get out of your comfort zone right after high school.”

it was probably your over-ambitioned self talking back then. “we’re only juniors. we have plenty of time.”

"plenty of time? you only have a year, y/n”

you didn’t bother responding, yet he’s still trying his best to provoke a reaction out of you. “no one really stands out to me right now among these strangers if i’m going to be honest. but… maybe you’ll find someone that’s your type—”

"keeho, how many times do i have to tell you that i really don’t give a fuck about anyone else here right now.”

"yeah, that! fuck.” he drags the end of his sentence in such an overly teasing tone, flashing him a look like he just said something so outrageous, because indeed it was...

"mess around a little bit, you know. get frisky in that closet or something.”

"seven minutes isn’t enough for that.”

“yeah, you would know.”

you were on the verge of landing a smack over his shoulder when a chorus of gasps erupted, drawing your attention.

and just your luck, the bottle points to you.

all you could muster was a defeated sigh, waiting for the soju bottle to spin once more to select the stranger you’d be stuck with in that closet for an excruciating seven minutes. except it never came, and only a hand reaches out to snap you out of your thoughts.

“shall we?” oh. it was that same voice you wished you weren’t at all familiar with, looking above the shadow looming over you. akin to a moth towards a flame. and it’s just a matter of figuring out who’s who between the two of you.

choi jiung, wearing a smirk that tugged on his lips that you almost wanted to slap off him, like always. you did—well, slap his hand away from your face, rolling your eyes before rising and rushing towards the closet door as he follows.

you almost missed keeho’s words, “is that…” a comment faint in volume when he recalls the day you told him all about your ‘jiung fiasco’ during a phone call.

you drowned in silence inside the closet, not even bothering to turn the light on. figures slumped against the wooden walls across each other. you hugged your knees to your chest, hyper aware of how cramped the space was and your paralyzing fear of having your legs accidentally brush against his.

all you could hear was the frantic hammer of your heartbeat within your chest, sighing in relief that he couldn’t see the flush creeping over your expression. him, well… the most you could make out from the dimness was the stupid mask you hadn’t realized he put back on.

“take that damn ghostface mask off before i punch it out of your face.”

oh, and you regret saying that, 'cause he truly took the mask off, “as you wish.”

he looked so unbelievably hot. annoyingly disproportionate to his simple costume of black fabric draped over his figure, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders just right. along with his hair falling over his eyes and—no. not another monologue of being down bad. enough.

silence hung in the air once more, not like it ever left, but the noise from outside seemed to have drained away and all it was in the moment were you and jiung, paused.

"so, what’s up with… the situation lately?” he speaks up, breaking the silence.

"you know…” you find yourself trailing off, voice small.

"know what?"

“the letter,” you finished his sentence, fragility within your words. “i never meant for you to see it.”

"you’re mad because i found out about it? y/n it’s just a letter—”

"to you, jiung. for me it was my vulnerable thoughts out in the open. t-too personal.”

your voice began to break, the air feeling heavier by the minute. the absence of sound failed to muffle the thud within your pulse. further amplified when he rests his hand over yours perched atop your knee, his touch noticeably warm. you didn’t pull away.

"right, i’m sorry. i understand, i shouldn’t have said that.”

“it’s okay. it was a mistake of mine and—i kinda… made it feel weird between us because of that.” jiung’s lips part in search of words, though you couldn’t see. his fingers tried fiddling with yours, an attempt to ease your tentative tone.

"weird how?”

"you know, ‘cause…”

"hm?”

"shut up,” fuck. you weren’t supposed to let that slip out of your lips, far too affected from how effortlessly attractive he sounded from a single, minor hum. and he didn’t even mean for it to come across like that. “sorry i, just. i can’t face you right now.”

"take your time, y/n”

yet how can you think straight when he says your name like that? the softness his voice held, the gentle tone making your heart skip a beat without fail.

"i was just caught off guard when you… did the whole blackmail thing. i’d—i thought you would just laugh it off or whatever.” you scoff lightly.

"i wouldn’t ever mock you like that. i mean, i kinda did… joke around with you at the library but! i meant it, lightheartedly.”

"mhm.” his fingers remain fidgeting with yours, your eyes drifting downwards. “i just, wanted some space. it was humiliating for me, okay?”

and then it hit jiung with a click. he might’ve went too far with the whole blackmail thing. “i get that. i never meant for you to feel that way, i just… wanted a chance to talk to you further. and spend maybe... a bit more time together.” he clarified, eventually lacing his fingers with yours, closely.

"but deep down i kinda knew you wouldn’t like, rat me out to whoever. it’s part of why i came to like you—sorry i… i know you don’t like me back and i keep talking about my feelings for you and—”

"i never said i didn’t like you back.”

"huh?”

"tell me, when did i ever tell you i don’t like you?”

the question looped within your mind. except all that there ever was is a cloud of uncertainty, his intentions slipping through your grasp like sand. what does he even mean?

"jiung, you’re confusing me.”

then all of a sudden you watch as he bursts into laughter, and you hastily grab his ghostface mask from a corner to playfully smack it against his head.

"you’re so unbelievably dense.”

you click your tongue, shoulders slumping in defeat. "it’s always been a problem of mine, i just don’t know how to handle my feelings.”

the next few words came out almost in a whisper, despite feeling your most vulnerable. “it’s probably why i… don’t have much experience with… this kinda stuff, unlike my friends.”

his fingers ceased playing with yours, now taking both of your hands in his, enveloped around yours like it were meant to be like that. warm.

“you don’t have to deal with this alone, y/n”

the moment wound down once more at the silence that fell.

"okay, look. i’ll just say it once and for all.” his tone is firm, almost commanding you to lift your gaze up at him. “i really, really like you. and i want to be with you. can we start over? please?”

you didn’t know what to respond at that instance. held frozen in place, but the rush of emotion through your nerves acted otherwise. all at once, it came washing over you like a wave.

"jiung?” you call out to him, as there goes another one of his hums. “you mean it?”

"of course i do.” he’s kneeling before you now, so damn close, it felt like your heart’s going to jump out of your chest. your pulse picks up, racing, as his other hand remains interlocked with yours and the other sneaks to caress your cheek.

jiung’s inching closer with every passing second, the air thick with anticipation as if it wasn’t already so stuffy from the cramped space. your eyes flutter shut while the only thing you could sense is the warmth of his breath against your lips. tilting your head subtly to the side, was that how they did it in the romcoms? failing to realize that you’re beginning to clutch his hand in yours harder that—“seven minutes is up!”

the closet door swings open without warning, your hands flying to push jiung away as his back meets the wall with a slight thud, watching the light stream into the cramped space. all over too soon.

yet it was just the catalyst to your eager desire; unable to take your hands off each other the moment you stepped foot outside of the closet. more like it was jiung getting rather handsy, his palm warm over the small of your back. even unabashedly pulling you closer to his side once you sink back down with the rest of the huddled group playing seven minutes. you’ve no reason to stay here anymore.

it came fleeting rather quickly, one moment he had you by the hand out of the door to that damned frat house, traversing through the empty, wasted field and towards the direction of the university dormitories. from the slightest ounce of privacy that touched your fingertips, you started yearning for more. as you reached the floor to your room, jiung wastes no time trapping you against the corridor wall, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“can i?” he mumbles against your skin, rather sensitive. and you would think he’s incapable of holding back a little kiss during the heat of the moment. except he still asks, lips beginning to ghost over you, bare.

"you don’t look like you could wait for—hngh, anything else.” you struggle underneath his grip, his hands fastening your wrists against the wall as he pushes against you impossibly closer. “i wanna hear you say yes.”

he follows, trailing further up that his nose subtly bumps on your cheek. you feel like you’re turning insane, the more time dragged on and he keeps holding back.

“please jiung, want you all over me…” you whine, a bit more when he finally presses a soft kiss over your flushed cheeks. he looked irresistible, pulling away to stare down at you with his eyes; glossed with hunger.

“even better.” and this time he inches closer once more, his lips hovering over yours tentatively, waiting for you to bridge the gap. and so you did, kissing him back with as much fervor. completely forgetting about the fact that this was the first time you’ve properly made out with someone, and you weren’t even quite sure if you’re doing it right.

it were as if jiung had a sort of sixth-sense, holding you gently by your jaw as your lips weave into a searing kiss, wet by the second as his tongue peeks out. sliding over your bottom lip. “i got you, relax.” he utters, the rumble of his voice traveling straight to your core.

jiung pulls away for a brief moment of oxygen, crashing his lips back to yours. sliding his tongue into your mouth this time ‘round, and you melt against him—weak in the knees as he rolls his wet muscle sinfully against yours.

“can’t get enough of you already,” it was a mystery how he manages to slip a few words here and there, from your pathetic state struggling to keep up with his desperate pace. proving truth to his words when the swirl of his tongue was followed by suckling on your own, that all you could do was mewl, you poor little thing.

it was dangerously risqué, anyone could simply walk into the sight of your sorry state, falling apart fully if it weren’t for jiung holding you up. keeping you upright despite the evident wobble in your knees as he continued to ravage you wantonly, done with his assault on your tongue that he’s moved to subtly bite on your bottom lip, bruised.

"mhmm.” you shudder, swallowing in a moan when he turns to the shell of your ear instead, tracing it sensitive, his spit cold once the air hit. and so he sucks, like he obsessively does, feeling every gentle flick of his tongue rush straight to your core.

you’re already so embarrassingly wet despite still being fully clothed, and his hands had done nothing but to remain over your cheek all this time. his nails raked against the thin fabric of your skimpy dress, mind turned to mush as the only thought you could render was that he needed to touch you right now. futher, more… more than you could ever fathom to beg for him out in the open.

“jiung…” you whimper, right against his ear. feeling his pants get uncomfortably tight that he just has to redirect his energy into smothering you, littering wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses on the expanse of your sensitive neck.

“yes baby?” it took him quite a while to respond, the petname sending a flutter in your chest. he tries to hold himself back before he began to litter nibbles over your skin.

his fingertips are a prickle over your body, finding yourself struggling to respond. mind blank, and you couldn’t even remember why you called out to him in the first place.

“mhmm,”

"you’re already so, horny. aren’t you?”

he’s met yet another smack to the shoulder, probably the nth time from yours this evening.

"don’t say it like that!” you tried leaning impossibly closer, your tone much less than a whisper.

nonetheless, jiung’s brain was equally as foggy, the impact of your hit disregarded. from his point of view, it was unbeknownst that your mind was swirling with how to break the looming silence. the only thing that had his attention in a headlock was the intoxicating sight of you, looking up at him, eyes glossed over in feral desire

your lips adorably bruised, proud of his insatiable work from earlier. your cheeks flushed and brows frustratingly knitted together. it was as if you’re wordlessly begging for him to kneel before you. in fact he would, right at the first syllable of anything you’d utter. and right past that was a sight behold, the swell of your breast, cleavage peeking underneath your outfit.

fuck, he needs you, mind driven towards delirium from his longing to touch. within the warmth from the palm of his hand, undoubtedly even better if he had his mouth on them, loving it wet. he needed you. so. so. badly.

"did you drink?” your voice was delicate, snapping him out of his trance.

“no.” and he was saying the truth. no sip of alcohol carried the same effect of his drunken want over your everything.

this time you took initiative, interlocking fingers with his as you dragged him towards your dorm room. every step you took in the hall felt electric, finding yourself fumbling with the key through the door as jiung’s hand teasingly dips past your waist.

at last pulling him inside, closing the door with a slam as you resume ravishing each other’s lips. you’re too dizzy at this point, his forehead pressing against yours as tries to keep you close. and with every step backwards goes a wet peck, bodies trailing toward your bed until your legs hit the edge.

and so he pushes you, gently, attempting to hold yourself up with your elbows toward the headboard. not until jiung grabs you by your thighs, nails digging over the plush—from that he abruptly yanks you back toward him and earns a surprised mewl.

“don’t go anywhere.”

“jiung, ‘m not.” yet he doesn’t answer anymore, resting his arms on either side of your head. you’ll never catch him without his lips on you, searching, sucking less than harshly that he might as well leave a mark. every nibble and flick of his tongue had you writhing beneath, and you couldn’t help but spread your legs open. hoping he’d take the hint.

he’s turning you breathless, with every press of his lips over your skin igniting such flame in your tummy.

“touch me jiung, please,” you finally cry out, driven crazy when your cunt’s clenching around nothing, wet yet untouched.

“where baby?” jiung rises from busying himself with your neck, only realizing just how much effect he had on you now that he’s gotten a proper view.

you lay there, helpless beneath his figure with your hair disheveled. lips parted from panting, chest heaving up and down.

“here,” you replied, out of breath. turning your head to the side abashed, that you couldn’t even grasp the fact that you’d reach this point. jiung meets your hands, letting you guide his hold toward your clothed breasts.

he couldn’t help a subtle smile tug on his lips, “you’re so damn cute,” jiung teases, swiftly pressing a kiss on your exposed cheek. “i’ll make you feel good, alright?”

please, you’d probably whine out, if you weren’t wallowing so much in the shame of drawing his touch right over your breasts. even so, he’s eager to pry you apart, relishing in the fact that despite your inexperience, you still push through, for him—communicating what you truly wanted.

and it left him with the inclination to fulfill it.

jiung groped your sensitive mounds through the fabric, turning your breathing ragged by the minute. god, you’re already so sensitive, and with every fleeting touch of his hands against your breasts, went to travel straight down to your cunt. sopping wet as you pushed your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the sticky feeling of your panties. proving useless. he then slips his fingers beneath the edge of your dress, thankfully strapless. right atop your chest, pulling it down until he’s met with the sight of your lacey little bra. “pretty,”

and yet he doesn’t show a single trace of rush carried in his actions, feeling you up to build the thrill, groping. “jiung...” you beg, reaching out to his wrist.

“patience,” he sounded curt, but the way he gently fondles your clothed breasts said otherwise.

right when he’s dragged as much of your dress down as he can, jiung catches you off guard—promptly sliding his hands beneath your bra that had your breath hitching. the warmth of his palms flush against your nipples, already perky, yearning for his touch.

jiung just has you pliant beneath him as the vulgar scene unfolds, tenderly groping, fondling your tits along with occasional pinches to your sensitive buds and making you mewl without fail. turns him on so so much, seeing you exposed so adorably that you had let go of all sense left within your body.

it didn’t take too long for him to come to a point, he couldn’t help himself anymore. the erotic sight of your desperate state rutting your clothed cunny up against his torso, helplessly. jiung finally hikes your bra up, your breasts spilling out of a fabric in such a way he can’t resist salivating over your vulnerable image.

and so he wastes no time. if you weren’t so lost within such a sensual trance that had your eyes fixated on the ceiling, you might’ve gotten the chance to catch jiung’s expression, his eyes completely glazed over. hungrily, he encloses his lips around your nipple, the warm wetness of his tongue swirling and flicking against the bud with abandon.

you swore your cunt begins to clench around nothing as he continued his work on you, skin erupting in goosebumps as he relentlessly sucks on the bud; lewd sounds filling the expanse of your dorm room. he doesn’t let your other breast get neglected, fondling its plush with the sporadic flick of his thumb over the bud over and over. ultimately urging you to hump against him suffocated in lust that’s taken over your whole being.

“ahh… jiung—” all you could manage to sputter out were pathetic whimpers, head thrown back as you sink into the mattress. his actions were a medley of flicking his hot tongue on to the other bud, switching, towards rapid kitten licks with his lips fully enclosed around it. eventually withdrawing with a short pop from the messy slick of his drool. once more diving back in to continue his feral abuse on your sensitive nipple. “feeling good?”

and you couldn’t even manage to choke out a reply even if you wanted to, drowning in suffocating desire. jiung pulls away, the hunger in him still begging to get satiated, his cock hard in his pants. a string of spit between your bud and his lip, glistening as it snapped.

anticipation overtakes you once more as he gently pushes your breasts together, flushed before craning back in to tongue over your swollen nipples, moving his head side to side in a frenzy. and you’re just so far gone, the warmth of his tongue licking over your buds with each turn. your already helpless state reduced to a mess, only able to splutter out hoarse moans. and he hasn’t even touched your needy cunt yet.

you had to pry him away from you, it was enough—more than enough before jiung manages to drive you towards an orgasm from merely stimulating your tits, having enough of embarrassing yourself in front of him. you’re not about to cum this early on, clothes barely taken off. you entwine your fingers through his hair, and just when he lets you breathe does he really see what he’s made of you.

sure, he looked disheveled as well, spit by the side of his lip. except you’re far worse, legs trembling from the growing wetness from your center, eyes lidded in a struggle to keep them open. blissed out of your mind and still, all you’ve ever wanted to see was jiung ravaging you like an animal.

“wanna take this all off, jiung…” he’s watchful, hooked on your voice that’s starting to turn a pitch higher than before.

“want more,”

lust bubbles within his chest, listening as you wish despite your struggle finishing sentences out of daze. “want to feel good with you,” your fingers try to reach beyond jiung’s chest, not making it far down but hoping he’d take the hint. swearing that the further you went without relief from your uncomfortable, sticky panties, the more you’ll spiral insane.

you began pulling the rest of your dress down in a hurry when jiung stops you. meeting your eyes glossed over as if you’re on the verge of tearing up from the pleasure, quite so. flashing him a puzzled look.

“i don’t have a condom with me.” he finally brings it up, fingers slowly tracing the curve of your wrist.

“me too…” you replied, sullen. jiung feeling guilty from discreetly thinking you looked adorable from the pout on your face.

at that moment you saw the instantaneous spark of idea carried in his eyes. any other day, you’d probably shoot him a glare, but now you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. especially when he’s had you wrapped around his finger, vulnerable and exposed, feeling your nerves ignite from the tension.

“you can sit on my face baby.”

“what?”

“sit on my face.”

he repeats it so matter-of-factly that it left you completely speechless, in a struggle to find the right words in response.

“jiung, i– it’s my first time and—”

“i know” his tone is reassuring, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “and i want you to know that i got you.” you could only conjure a feeble whine. ‘cause what does he mean with the fact that the two of you were just bickering a few weeks ago, and now he wants you to smother his face with your cunt.

“think of it as payback.” he spoke, his voice holding a honeyed warmth.

“use me however you want, after all, i’ve caused you enough problems with that letter.”

well, it was the last you’ve coherently heard of him that night. especially when everything he tried to say came out muffled while he’s got quite literally a mouthful of your dripping pussy. the lewd scene unfolds within the privacy of your dorm room, relieved that your roommate hadn’t decided to return yet. and if you could still recall whether or not these walls were soundproof.

everything that unraveled was such a filthy sight. your black dress, bra, and panties with it’s notable patch of your arousal on the fabric—discarded in a pile somewhere on the floor. it was the least of your worries when you’re currently sitting snug over jiung’s face, cunny rubbing against his wet, warm tongue that had your knuckles clenched and holding onto the headboard for dear life.

making sense of how the hell you’d gotten yourself in this position, taking into account that it’s your first time delving into anything frisky. however, you were running on nothing else but raging horniness, maintaining your desperate rhythm as you ride his face. grinding your hips in haste, folds slick as you use his tongue to get off. just so damn erotic.

it was truly pushing you towards the edge faster than you’d like to admit. his tongue sliding in and out of your pulsing hole, lightning fast. slick kitten licking against your clit over and over, when it isn’t the tip of his nose bumping on your pleasured, swollen bud.

fuck, it was a far more tantalizing sight as you turned to look behind you. through your lashes, watching jiung’s obscene state—his pants dragged down, jerking himself off, fast. his hand gripping his cock just right, up and down, wishing it was your pulsing cunt squeezing his shaft right now.

he made it a point, the next time he gets to ravage you senseless, you’d be crying out having enough of his cock plowing into your hole.

now it was just you you you, using him like he insisted you did.

jiung begins to amp it up, eager to send you towards your high. his tongue simultaneously slipping in and out of your hole before dragging back up, flattened to flick at your clit—god, it felt insatiably good, the pace in which you roll your hips on his face grew faltered. thighs turning wobbly as you neared your climax.

“hahh—fuckkk… jiung, you… you make me feel so good,” you pant, breathlessly fucking yourself on his tongue.

the best he could do was to hum in reply, against your clit, the vibration feeling insanely good as it travels straight to your core. his other hand grips harshly on the plush of your thigh, nails raking over the skin. almost forming crescents, vulgar and indecent, yet it all felt too pleasurable.

“i’m close, ‘m so, so close~” you whine out, your tangled fingers in his hair tightening. earning another moan that vibrated over your swollen, needy clit. your other hand struggling to keep leverage on to the headboard.

at this point you’re far too deep in pleasure, desperate to cum as you chase your high. turning crazy from how it felt so so good to ride his face, tongue working you toward it, the squelch of your sticky arousal dripping down his chin. more, more, moreee—rolling your hips over his face like you’re in such a rut, and it seems to be the case.

suddenly—you trembled, writhing in convulse as it came crashing over you like a wave. a particular bump of the tip of his nose against your clit before his relentless suckling pushed you teetering toward the edge. and he so desperately wanted to cum with you at the same time, stroking his cock faster. collecting part of your slick dripping down his chin to wet his shaft. jiung feels your cunt begin to gush, his nails digging deeper crescents into the plush of your thigh because you visibly couldn't handle the shake of your knees from the pleasure. his tongue, never ceasing to flick and flatten as he drags it on to your clit. over and over, lapping up your sticky cum.

“ahh–mhmh, jiung~!” you tug on his hair, fingers laced as you tried to squirm away from his grip. “no more!” yet he's making it difficult for you to do so, both of his arms locking your thighs in place as he began his endless ordeal of licking up your release. s'too much, too much–yet felt too fucking good, rendering you overstimulated out of your mind, merciless.

and when you've finally freed yourself from his grip, you stumbled back on to your mattress, disoriented. it was a blur, feeling yourself momentarily lose balance, suddenly collapsing onto the sheets. jiung immediately rose to his elbows, reaching toward you despite his voice beginning to sound like a distant muffle. concern was greatly etched across his face, “y/n are you okay?” you hear him, and yet it resounded like a distant echo, seeing his concerned expression the last few seconds before your vision slips into darkness.

his composure falters at that instant. had he pushed you too hard? he gazed down on your figure, laying there seemingly peaceful despite your exhaustion. once again you're vulnerable beneath his eyes. to him, jiung takes it as another chance to take care of you, his eyes tracing every outline of your features. and the gentle heaving of your chest that reminded him that he has to prove you that you can trust him.

“tired... ung, i'm okay,” you manage to mumble, and he releases a sigh of relief. almost moving to touch you before he realizes that he's… made quite a mess of his own as well. making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean himself up, stumbling upon bits of your clothes strewn over the floor.

he found you alrewdy fast asleep when he came back. making it a point in his head to go easy on you next time–he wouldn't admit, but the way panic surged through his nerves once you collapsed got him shaken. but in a few minutes he's gotten you into your matching pajamas, tucked underneath a blanket as he slides beside you. he holds your body close to his chest, “night baby,” you couldn't hear him; nonetheless, he still wanted to whisper to you sweet, pressing chaste kisses atop your head.

jiung turns to your bedside table, almost reaching out to turn off your lampshade when he stops to see an abnormally neon yellow sticky note stuck on the wall above that read in bold ink: ‘presentation monday morning’

the presentation.

oh god, you both have to do the presentation tomorrow at 8am.

fuck.

[1:47] kyo: y/n where’d you go???

[1:49] kyo: jiung’s not here too?

[2:05] kyo: alright damn

[2:06] kyo: i get it

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