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davdcorenswet · 4 months ago

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🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them.

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him.

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours?

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: whirlwind.#thank yuuu for reading! 🥺🩷

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iuchamjohta · 13 days ago

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SSC Part 2: Ariel's Domain Ft Yuna and Joy | Special Guest: Seulgi + RV

17561 words

Tags: Threesome, Exhibitionist, Anal, Strap-on, bi, rough sex, I don't even know just read it ahahha

Notes: Well, Cant believe I'm going to say the same thing again, but yes longest fic i've ever written, sorry this took awhile but hope you enjoy the amount of filth in this ahaha I personally enjoyed writing this. Cheers! Thanks @lockefanfic for letting me use some ideas of the queen of hearts concept!

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The next morning came quickly. You woke up to the soft hum of the ship’s engines, a gentle backdrop to the rhythmic but therapeutic waves crashing against the side of the ship. The sunlight streamed quickly in as you pulled open the curtains of your panoramic windows, causing a warm glow over your room. Stretching, you felt a lingering happiness from the previous day, the experience still felt rather surreal to you.

Gazing out at the vast expanse of the blue sea, you lost yourself for a moment in the beauty of it all. The horizon of the sea met with the sunrise which painted a beautiful landscape. After a few minutes of daydreaming, you reluctantly turned your attention to the holographic access card resting on the bedside table.

You picked up the card and with a gentle tap you activated it, and a brilliant holographic display flickered to life before you. The familiar interface materialised, glowing softly against the dim light of the cabin. The main screen showcased an array of exciting events scheduled for the day: “Dance performances”, “Blind Date events”, “Pool Parties”. One thing catches your eye when you see “Poker”. Each event was linked to various missions that promised not just fun, but also unique rewards.

As you scrolled through the options, your heart raced at the sight of the poker tournament. You had always been a good player, and the thought of testing your skills against other participants was thrilling. You were sold.

Then, your eyes landed on a new button: “AI Helper.” Curious, you clicked it. Instantly, a figure emerged from the hologram—a friendly, humanoid avatar with an ethereal glow. Its voice was soothing but bright and playful as it circled around you.

“Good morning! I’m Ellinia, your interactive AI helper. How can I assist you today?”

The holographic figure smiled, its features shifting to conveyed a sense of understanding and encouragement.

“Tell me about today’s theme,”

Ellinia's smile widened. “Today’s theme is ‘Exploration, since it is everybody’s first day after the opening event” The theme exploration gives bonus points for every new event you participate in and it encourages the uncovering hidden wonders aboard the ship. The more different areas you try, the more points you earn for your tiers!”

May I recommend you to participate in the ‘Poker Tournament,’ where you’ll have the chance to test your skills against other players. Just like any other cruise, a casino is always needed.” Winners can earn exclusive rewards determined by the owner of the game!

Great you thought to yourself, it is as if Ellinia can read your mind.

There are also optional side quests that earn badges—such as the ‘Fingering expert-Make 5 girls squirt with just your fingers ’, ‘Best filmer - Earn the most likes in videos you upload for the day’ and the list is endless!”

Damn, best filmer. A flood of questions filled your head. Is that why Jieun had given you the video? Was she secretly orchestrating this whole thing? You thought to yourself.

Nonetheless you click on the screen and attach the video file you have compiled which links the video you had taken of the opening ceremony and your individual time you have spent with Jieun. You were shy about being naked on screen but to get your tier up as quickly as possible, this was the only way.

The moment you hit “upload” on your video, a wave of exhilaration washed over you. You rewatched the video and noticed you had captured Jieun’s and Yuna’s (more so Jieun) stunning performance from the previous night, every moment carefully framed through your lens. Rewatching it you felt the same excitement rush through you but you had to contain yourself knowing it is going to be a long day ahead.

As the upload progressed, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttered in your stomach. You knew the quality was good, but the real magic was in how the crowd would respond. You went to wash up while preparing for the day ahead.

When you checked back afterwards, you were met with a flood of notifications—likes and comments streamed in, and your heart swelled with pride. Seeing your work resonate with so many people felt incredible; it was validation that you had created something special. The video quickly climbed the ranks, landing in the featured category, and with each notification, you felt a deep sense of joy and connection, knowing your passion had struck a chord in the hearts of viewers.

With the surge of popularity came a tangible boost in your status aboard the ship. You glanced at your holographic card, where your progress was displayed: Adventurer Tier, 15% towards Trailblazer. It was thrilling to see how your skills can be helped to attain progression in the ranks. You couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities that lay ahead—what new missions and rewards awaited you if you reached the Trailblazer tier?

As you pondered on that thought, you remembered what Jieun was teasing out yesterday – The ship was well known for its unique theme rooms. You remembered how, as an Adventurer, access to these rooms had just been unlocked for you. Intrigued, you decided to ask Ellinia for more details.

“Hey, Ellinia, can you explain the theme rooms and how they work?”

Ellinia’s holographic form shimmered, her expression brightening. “Of course! As an Adventurer, you have several options for theme rooms. They can be created in three ways:

Apply to an Existing Room: You can browse through available theme rooms and apply to join one. Your profile will be shown, and the room's host will accept whoever they choose. It’s a great way to connect with others who share similar fetish and fantasies.

Create a Public Theme Room: You have the option to create a public theme room where anyone can walk in and join the experience. This is a perfect opportunity to have an open platform and relationship with anybody.

Create a Private Theme Room: If you prefer exclusivity, you can create a private theme room that’s accessible by invite only. This allows for more intimate gatherings and focused interactions with selected guests. There is however a limitation as an Adventurer in the size only being 5 or less people. Private events are only unlocked at the next tier

Alternatively, you could receive a private invitation to an existing theme room, where you can engage in unique activities and experiences curated by the host.”

As Ellinia explained, your excitement grew. The possibilities for social interaction seemed endless. Whether collaborating with others in a public room or hosting an exclusive gathering, you felt inspired to make the most of this new opportunity. Today, you could not only explore but you were definitely going to find a theme room suited to your fantasies.

“Alright time for breakfast first”

Feeling energized by the possibilities ahead, you shoved the holographic card into your pocket, making sure it was secure. Grabbing your camera, you slung it over your shoulder, the familiar weight a comforting reminder of your passion for capturing moments. You gathered a few other essentials before heading out of your cabin.

As you made your way down the corridor, the lively sounds of the ship enveloped you. Laughter and chatter echoed off the walls, mingling with the soft strains of music drifting from nearby lounges. You could feel the excitement in the air, a palpable energy that promised adventure.

Arriving at the dining area, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted you. The expansive room was filled with passengers already mingling, their voices blending into a cheerful hum. You spotted a few familiar faces from the previous day, some animatedly discussing their plans for the day’s missions. You settled at the corner table alone. As you sat at the corner table, savouring the last few bites of your breakfast, you felt someone staring at you. Just then, a vibrant figure caught your eye—Seulgi, with her warm smile and confident stride, approached your table.

Seulgi had a captivating presence that turned heads wherever she went. Standing confidently, her toned midriff was on display, showcasing a set of impressive abs that hinted at her dedication to fitness. Her skin glowed with a healthy radiance, accentuating her natural beauty.

Her hair framed a face that was strikingly cute and pretty..High cheekbones complemented her bright eye smiles, which sparkled with a tinge of playfulness. She wore a fitted black crop that highlighted her athletic figure, paired with pink shorts that showcased her toned legs.

“Hey there! I just wanted to say, your video you uploaded last night was hot,” she said, leaning casually against the table, and you spotted a tinge of naughtiness in her eyes. “You really captured the excitement of the performance.”

You smiled, feeling a pleasant warmth wash over you. “Thanks! I had a blast making it. Jieun and Yuna were really incredible.”

“Absolutely, you yourself were not bad at pleasing Jieun” She winked, causing you to blush.

“I saw you signed up for the poker tournament, I’m a bit more curious about your skills at the poker table. I hope you entertain me enough during the tournament and that your skills are as good as your tongue”

You raised an eyebrow playfully, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, is that a challenge I hear? I promise I’ll keep it interesting.”

Seulgi laughed, a melodic sound that made you grin. “Good! I like a little excitement. Just remember, the stakes are higher than just chips today.”

“And the price”, she turns and sits on the table.

“The price could be more than just points today” She seductively said as she traced a finger up her thighs to her ass, teasing you evidently.

You leaned in slightly, matching her playful tone. “I can handle a little risk. But what if I’m the one who ends up entertaining you in other ways?”

Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, and she bit her lip, clearly enjoying the banter. “Now that sounds tempting. Let’s see if you can back it up once the cards are on the table.”

The playful tension hung in the air between you.With a wink, Seulgi straightened up and said, “I’ll be rooting for you. Just remember, I’m not an easy opponent.”

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but stare at her cute ass swaying. A mix of excitement and anticipation swirling inside you. The poker match was shaping up to be more than just a game, and you were ready to play your cards right. And if you do play your cards right literally and figuratively, you might just be in for a treat.

As the tournament atmosphere buzzed around you, the format was announced: it is heads up poker with participating players. The winner gets to face the host named…. “SEULGI” “Fuck that is what she means” The realization hits you like a wave—Seulgi was the owner of the game. A mix of excitement and surprise coursed through you.

You saw Seulgi emerge walking confidently at the front, explaining the rules with an alluring smile.Her outfit had now changed into a full on suit looking professional.

“Welcome, everyone! The winner of this best of 64 will get the chance to face me in a 1-1 match. And let’s just say, as the owner, I have some intriguing rewards in store for the victor.”

As she winked at the crowd, her confidence radiated, making it clear she was not just there to play but to dominate. “So, who’s ready to take me on?” she teased, her gaze scanning the eager faces, and you felt a jolt of determination.

With each passing moment, the stakes felt higher. You knew you had to bring your A-game, not only to win the tournament but to earn that coveted chance to face her directly. The thought of what that could mean made your pulse quicken.

“Looks like I’ll be facing you soon enough, Seulgi,” you murmured under your breath, the thrill of the challenge invigorating you. With a smirk, you prepared yourself for the match ahead, eager to see how this playful rivalry would unfold.

As the first hand was dealt, you felt a surge of determination. In heads-up play, every decision mattered. Your opponent was aggressive, frequently raising the pot. You took a measured approach, letting them take the lead while you observed their betting patterns.

In the early rounds, you focused on reading their body language and betting behavior. When they seemed overly confident, you capitalized on that, bluffing at strategic moments to push them out of the pot. Your instincts serve you well as you made value calls that caught them off guard, forcing them to rethink their strategy.

In a crucial moment, your opponent pushed all-in, clearly attempting to intimidate you. You glanced at your cards—nothing extraordinary, but the look in their eyes told you they were trying to bully you. With a steady resolve, you called their bluff. The cards were revealed, and your read proved accurate; they had overreached, and you took the pot.

You easily defeated player by player with your perfect reads. Part of photography was capturing people’s emotions and this had helped to also read the emotions of players. As the tournament continued, the intensity ramped up. You alternated your play style, mixing aggression with caution to keep each different opponent guessing. With each win, you gained confidence, forcing them to reconsider their moves.

Finally, in the climactic showdown finally.. Your opponent, a well-known player, went all-in. You paused for a moment, weighing your options against their tendencies. With a sly grin, you decided to match their bet, confident in your hand.

When the final cards were revealed, you emerged victorious. The crowd erupted in cheers, but your focus was solely on Seulgi, who watched from the side, a playful smile gracing her lips.

“Looks like you’re up for a challenge now,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. You felt a rush of excitement; the real game was about to begin."Let's make this interesting," "The loser of each round has to remove an item of clothing, and we keep playing until someone is completely naked."

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dries. This is definitely not your typical poker night. You nod, trying to sound casual hoping this would not distract you. "Sounds like a deal. I'm game if you are."

The game begins, and with each flip of a card, the atmosphere thickens. Seulgi's skilled fingers gracefully deal the cards, her long, painted nails clicking against the table. You can't help but notice her slender, graceful hands, imagining how they might feel running along your skin.

Your first hand is a decent one, a pair of queens, and you smirk at Seulgi, feeling a surge of confidence as you bet a piece of clothing. She raises an eyebrow, her full lips curving into a sly smile. "Not bad, but I think I've got you beat."

She reveals her hand, straight, and you groan. As you reach for your shirt buttons, you catch a glimpse of her lips parting slightly, her eyes fixed on your hands.

"Go on, then," she urges, her voice husky. "Let's see what you've got under there." You unbutton your shirt, slowly, teasingly, revealing a toned chest. Seulgi's eyes widen slightly, her breath catching. She licks her lips, a deliberate, slow motion that sends a jolt of desire straight to your groin.

"Your turn," you manage to say, your voice hoarse.

Seulgi's hand is less impressive this time, and she pouts playfully, reaching for the tiny button on her pants As she stands to remove it, you can't help but admire her graceful movements. Her pants slid down her long legs, revealing sheer black stockings and a garter belt that made her ass look even more perfect. Your eyes travel up her thighs, past the curve of her hips, and settle on the thin lace of her panties.

"Feeling hot?" she teases, her eyes glinting with amusement.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. Your mind is spinning with images of what lies beneath her lingerie.

The game continues, and with each round, the layers of clothing between you and Seulgi diminish. You lose your pants, revealing boxer briefs that tent slightly, betraying your growing arousal. Seulgi's eyes flicker down, taking in your obvious desire, and she smiles, a slow, satisfied stretch of her lips.

"Looks like someone's enjoying the game,"

You feel exposed, but the heat in her gaze only fuels your desire. Seulgi's blazer and shirt is the next to go, revealing a black lace bra that barely contains her perky breasts. You swallow hard, your eyes tracing the curve of her cleavage, imagining the weight of her breasts in your hands.

The cards are dealt again, and this time, luck is on your side. You reveal a full house, grinning triumphantly at Seulgi, who looks momentarily stunned.

"Looks like I owe you," she says.

She reaches behind her back, unclasping her bra with a swift, practiced motion. Your breath catches as she lets the straps slide down her arms, revealing her breasts in all their glory. Her nipples are hard, standing erect against the pale skin, and you feel your dick twitch in response.

Seulgi's eyes never leave yours as she slowly folds her bra and places it on the table. "Your move," she whispers.

You're down to your underwear and your watch now, and you hesitate, knowing that your last layer of clothing will reveal your full arousal. But you can't back down, not with Seulgi's smoldering gaze daring you to continue.

You lose another round.

With a deep breath, you slide your boxer briefs down your thighs, feeling exposed and incredibly turned on. Seulgi's eyes widen, taking in your hard length, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

"You're... impressive," she breathes, her voice barely audible.

You sit there, naked and aroused, your eyes locked with hers. Seulgi's chest rises and falls rapidly, her nipples fully hardened. You want to reach out, to touch her, but you're both caught in this erotic game, unable to break the spell. You had one piece of accessory and one more loss would mean you are out of the game.

Seulgi was not far behind, she was down to her underwear and a tie that hangs loosely between her breasts.

The next round begins, and Seulgi's hand trembles slightly as she deals the cards. Her eyes never leave yours, and you can see the desire reflected in her dark pools. You're both breathing heavily now, the air charged with unspoken longing.

Seulgi's panties are the last barrier, and you can almost taste the victory as you reveal a royal flush. You grin, your eyes never leaving hers.

"Looks like I win," you say, your voice raspy.

Seulgi's lips part in a silent gasp. She slowly stands, her hands moving to the waistband of her panties. With deliberate slowness, she slides them down her thighs, revealing a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair and her glistening folds.

Both of you have one piece of clothing left. This one round would determine who is the winner. The intensity captivated all of the spectators in this intense heads up poker. The final hand was about to unfold.

You could feel the tension as the dealer dealt the first two hole cards: you glanced down at 2-7 of spades. “What the fuck, the worst hand possible?” You maintain your composure pretending it was good.

Seulgi seemed to have read you perfectly. She raised the pre-flop. “Since we have no more clothing, let's take it up a notch, the loser have to eat the winner out right here.”

You called her bet. To you it was actually a win-win situation. You lose, you get to taste a feast on her glistening pussy. If you win you get, head from one of your favourite idols. Nonetheless you do not lose sight of the bigger goal, of actually winning this game.

The dealer revealed the flop: A queen, ten, and a four. As if by a stroke of miracle, the whole board was spade gaining you a flush. You could tell Seulgi was sizing up her next move. “Let’s further up the stakes” She said as she pushed all of her lingerie to the middle, throwing in her laced thong as well. “Winner gets to keep the others clothes”

“Fuck it, you were here to play” you thought to yourself.

You raised the stakes even higher “Winner gets to use the loser any way they want right here right now, on this table in front of everybody.”

“Oh? I get to fuck your ass if I win? Anyway, right?” Seulgi chuckled.

“What the fuck, im not into that” your face turned horrified at her confidence and your life flashed before your eyes as you might have made the mistake, nonetheless you could no longer take back the bet.

“I’m all-in too then” she declared.

The dealer turned over the two remaining cards, an 8 of hearts and a king of spade. “Fuck, that was the worst river card possible. If Seulgi just had any spade card higher than 7, she would make a higher flush losing you the game. The prospect of losing suddenly dawned on you like a nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, you revealed your hand, showing your flush. Staring at her hand, sweat dripped down your forehead. “You got me beat, you win” Seulgi throws her hand into the deck without revealing them.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the realization set in. Seulgi’s playful confidence turned to surprise. “Well played,” she admitted, her smile returning.

“Looks like I’m the one who gets to entertain you now,” you said, feeling a thrill of victory.

She's lost, and now she's at your mercy.

"Looks like I'm yours to do with as you please," She chuckled. Some part of you feels she had planned for this, but you shove the thought away , wanting to claim your price.

"And I have a special request, if you're willing."

Intrigued, you lean forward, your curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? And what might that be?"

Seulgi bites her lower lip. "I want you to only fuck my ass. Right here, right now, on this table."

Her boldness takes your breath away.

You can't resist the temptation, the thought of claiming her like that in front of an audience is exhilarating. "As you wish, queen" you reply

Her body was on full display and she was a true work of art, but despite her perfection it’s her tight, round ass that commands your attention. You stand, your cock throbbing against your pants and you approach the table. The green felt is now your stage, and Seulgi, your eager participant. You gently push her forward, positioning her hands on the table's edge, her back arched, offering her ass to you. She looks back at you over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she feels your warm breath on her exposed skin.

Your hand explored her curves, and your tongue traced a pathway down her spine to her ass, giving her shivers. Kneeling before her majestic ass now, you wasted no time spreading her cheeks with your strong hands, revealing the tight pink bud of her anus.

Seulgi moaned softly as she felt your tongue trace circle around her sensitive hole, teasing her. Your tongue was warm and wet, leaving a trail of saliva as you licked and probed eagerly driving Seulgi wild with desire. You took your time, worshipping her asshole, dipping your tongue inside, gently at first, and then with increasing urgency.

"Oh, fuck... yes!" Seulgi cried out, her hands gripping the edge of the table. The sensation of your tongue delving into her forbidden hole sent waves of pleasure through her body. She felt her pussy dripping, aching to be touched, but you seemed intent on focusing solely on her ass. You lapped away eagerly, tasting every inch, as far as your tongue could go off her ass, leaving a generous trail of saliva in and on her ass.

You pulled away momentarily, leaving Seulgi gasping for breath.

“Your ass taste so fucking good, Seulgi. Come and wet this cock for your ass”

Seulgi turned to face you and kneeled before you. With her eyes locked onto you and without saying a word, she took your full length into your hands giving it a few firm strokes.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Her fingers glide over the sensitive skin, making you twitch with anticipation. With a seductive smile, she leaned forward, her full lips parting to take you in. Her tongue darted out, teasing the tip of your cock, swirling around the head, and collecting the pre-cum that had already begun to leak. A soft moan escaped your lips as her warm, wet mouth enveloped you, taking you deep.

Seulgi was a fucking master of her craft and she showed it. She sucked you slowly, her lips forming a tight seal around your shaft, creating a sensation that made your toes curl. Her mouth was hot and wet, and you could feel her saliva coating your length as she worked her magic. With every movement, her long, dark hair fell across her face, framing her beautiful features.

She took her time, bobbing her head up and down, her lips sliding effortlessly along your length. Her hands moved to cup your balls, gently massaging them, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. She hummed as she sucked, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your entire body.. The blowjob was sloppy and wet, just the way you wanted it. She showed no restraint, letting her saliva drip down your shaft, mixing with your pre-cum, creating a messy, glistening spectacle.

"Fuck, you're incredible," you managed to gasp between breaths. Seulgi's eyes flickered up to meet yours. Her gaze looked incredibly naughty and her face looked so fuckable at this point. She responded by taking you even deeper, her nose brushing against your pubic hair, her throat constricting around your girth. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you had to grab onto her hair, holding her in place as you thrust your hips forward, fucking her face roughly.

Seulgi's enthusiasm only grew as she gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she never lost her focus. She loved the taste of you, the feel of your cock stretching her mouth, and the power she held over you pleasure. She intentionally moaned around your length, to increase the vibrations that intensified your arousal.

You watched in awe as she continued to suck and lick, her mouth working feverishly. She twirled her tongue around the sensitive underside of his shaft, finding every sweet spot, and driving you wild with desire. The room echoed with the wet, slurping sounds of her blowjob.

Seulgi's hands roamed freely, caressing your inner thighs, squeezing and kneading your flesh, and driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Her fingers traced the sensitive skin behind your balls, applying just the right amount of pressure, making you buck your hips involuntarily.

“Get on the table” if you continued to let her mouth do the work, you were not going to last much longer. Seulgi released your cock with a loud pop, and licked her lips as if she had tasted something incredible. Your cock was at this point glistening with her saliva.

Seulgi positioned herself on all fours on top the poker table, her full curves on display. Getting behind her, you spat on her ass before pressing a finger against her tight hole, slowly pushing inside.

“Relax, baby” "Let me in. I'm going to stretch you out and make you beg for my cock."

Seulgi obeyed, surrendering to the pleasure as your finger worked its way deeper, twisting and preparing her for the invasion of your thick shaft. You added a second finger, stretching her wider, scissoring your fingers to stretch her hole further. Your other hand reaches around to rub her clit to help her relax , driving her wild.

"Please... I need you inside me," she begged, her voice hoarse.

You�� withdrew his fingers, leaving Seulgi desperate for more before bringing them to Seulgi’s mouth. “Taste yourself slut” Seulgi eagerly sucked on your two fingers, cleaning them utterly. With your fingers still in her mouth, you lined your thick cock which throbbed against her slippery entrance. With one powerful thrust, you buried himself deep into her ass, eliciting a scream of pleasure from Seulgi.

"Fuck! Your ass is so tight, Seulgi. It's gripping my cock like a vice," you grunted, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her.

Seulgi's body shook with each brutal thrust, her ass accommodating his length with every stroke. She reached down, her fingers finding her throbbing clit, rubbing it frantically as her asshole was pounded relentlessly.

"Yes, that's it, touch yourself," you encouraged, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "Stroke that pretty little clit while I fuck your tight ass." Your index and middle finger were now holding the side of her mouth keeping them open, while you continued thrusting deeply into her tight ass, leaving her tongue hanging out of her mouth, a true display of a buttslut.

"Fuck me," she begs, her voice raw. "Fuck my ass like it's yours. Fuck me like you own this"

You oblige, slamming harder back into her, setting a relentless pace. The sound of your flesh slapping against hers fills the room, a primal rhythm that drives you both wild. Seulgi's moans and cries of pleasure echo through the casino, slowly submitting to your dominance over her ass.

Reaching around, you grab her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as you continue to pound her from behind. Her nipples, hard as pebbles, are sensitive to your touch, and she arches her back, pushing her chest into your hands.

"Harder," she urges, her voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding. "Fuck me harder, make me cum on your cock." You drive into her with all your might, your hips crashing against her ass , as you do your best to fill that bottomless well of her ass. Her anal wall was slowly becoming a mould for your cock , massaging your full shaft so well.

The sight of cock disappearing in and out of this greedy and tight asshole was an added stimulant for you. Seulgi's orgasm builds, her body tensing, her cries becoming more desperate. "I'm cumming!" she screams, her body convulsing around your cock. The sensation of her ass milking your shaft tightly.

That did not stop you one bit. Her ass had become a playground for your cock, accommodating your every desire and length.

"You like it rough, don't you, Seulgi?" you growled. "You want me to fuck this tight ass of yours until you can't walk straight?"

"Yes! Harder! Fuck me harder!" Seulgi screamed, her body on fire.

Reaching for her loose tie that was conveniently still hanging between her tits. You gave it a pull, it now serves a function as a makeshift leash to choke her as you pull her deeper into you.

With one hand on her hips, and the other pulling on the tie, your cock continued to pistoned in and out of her ass. Seulgi felt another orgasm building, this one more intense than the last. Her body trembled, her asshole clenching and unclenching around your shaft as she rode the wave of pleasure.

Seulgi’s pussy was practically dripping with arousal at this point, adding to the slickness between her thighs. The sensation of being filled so completely, so intimately, was overwhelming, and she couldn't help but beg for more. "Harder... please... fuck me harder..."

You thrusted forward with increasing urgency, each push eliciting a symphony of lewd sounds—the wet slapping of skin became louder with her juice splashing all around, the squelching of your cock plunging in and out of her tight channel. Seulgi's hands clenched the edges of the table, her knuckles turning white as she braced herself for your powerful strokes. You grabbed her hips tighter, leaving red imprints on her milky skin, driving into her with a primal rhythm, determined to mark her as yours.

"You like that, don't you, you filthy slut?" you growled into her ear, your hot breath contrasting the cool air of the casino. "My cock feels so good in your tight ass, doesn't it?"

“It feels too fucking good, its so big and I feel so fucking full, fuckk—” Her words are inaudible breaths now, too focused on the pleasure your cock is making her ass feel. You continued pulling harder on the tie to choke her while at the same time thrust deeper into her.

With a growl, you suddenly withdrew, leaving her feeling empty and desperate for more. To be fair removing yourself out of her ass takes hercules strength, given how tight of a ring that ass was. But you had other plans. You pushed her shoulders down, guiding her into a prone position on the table, her ass still perched invitingly in the air. Without missing a beat, you positioned yourself behind her once more, this time aiming for an even deeper invasion.

"Oh gods..." Seulgi cried out as you entered her again, this time with more force and depth. You were determined to possess every inch of her, to explore the deepest recesses of her body. Your hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as you began to piston in and out.

"Yes... oh yes... fuck my ass... claim it..." Seulgi chanted, her voice a mixture of pleasure and pain as you stretched her to her limits. You reached around to undo her tie into one long string. Placing the middle portion over her mouth, you grabbed both ends of the tie with one hand. Pulling unto it, you lifted her head slightly off the table while the tie muffled her moans.

With your other hand you gathered both her hands and placed them behind her back, locking the wrist together behind her back with your hand. This position left Seulgi with absolutely no control and balance. She was now a vessel for your pleasure, a hole for you to use, a tight one of course.

You pressed your body weight unto her, with every thrust you would pull on the tie Seulgi was now biting down on, while pressing down on both of her wrist that is on her back, which would arch her back further letting you bury your cock deeper into her. You continued this routine for a few moments as you stretched her ass like never before.

Seulgi moans were now muffled by the tie but you could tell she was approaching another orgasm. You were not far behind.

"Cum for me, you dirty girl," you commanded, your voice domineering. "Let me feel your ass milking my cock as you come."

Your words were like a trigger, sending Seulgi spiralling into a vortex of pleasure, her eyes rolling back as she orgasm hard.

Her ass clenched and unclenched around your shaft, her pussy gushing as she climaxed, her juices flowing down her thighs. You felt her ass muscles pulsating, milking your cock as she rode out her orgasm, and it was too much for you to bear.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself to the hilt, holding her hips tightly as you emptied your load deep inside her, filling her ass with your hot cum. Seulgi's body shook with aftershocks as she continued to climax, her ass pulsating around your spasming cock, milking every last drop of your essence.

As your breathing slowed, you gently withdrew, savoring the sensation of her tight muscles caressing your sensitive cock. Seulgi collapsed onto the table, her body glistening with sweat and satisfaction. You couldn't help but admire the sight of her, knowing that you had just given her an unforgettable anal experience. "That was..." Seulgi began, her voice breathless.

"Incredible," you finished for her.

“‘I’m not done with you just give me 5 minutes” This was music to Seulgi’s ears. She was an insatiable slut and you were going to fill that bottomless well of hers, a paradox indeed. Seulgi called for a waiter to provide some water to the both of you.

As you look around you realise, that a huge crowd has gathered, you were so engrossed in fucking her ass that you did not notice this scene at all. Some were filming the pornographic display of sex between the both of you, some were touching themselves, some was just simply enjoying the performance.

“Are you ready to go again?” Seulgi, now even more insatiable, wanted to take control, and you were more than willing to let her.As you laid down, she straddled you, her back facing your chest, her ass hovering just above your throbbing cock. Ride me, baby," you urged, your hands roaming over her smooth skin, fingers trailing her beautiful tailbone before landing on her perfect ass cheeks.

Lowering herself slowly in a reverse cowgirl position, her ass engulfed your cock inch by delicious inch. She sighed contentedly, her eyes closing momentarily as she savored the feeling of being filled by you once again. Her hips began to move in a slow, tortuous rhythm, each downward glide taking you deep into her ass, each upward lift a sweet torture as you almost slipped out. The cum is now an added lube, allowing you to slide easier into her.

You brought your hands back before connecting firmly with her plump ass cheeks, leaving a satisfying smack that echoed in the room. Seulgi gasped, her head falling back against your shoulder as she smiled wickedly.

"You like that, huh?" she purred, her voice sultry and teasing.

"I love it," you replied, delivering another sharp smack to her other cheek, watching it redden under your hand. "Your ass was made for this, for taking my cock and those spankings."

Seulgi began to ride you with increasing fervor, her ass cheeks jiggling with each bounce, providing a tantalizing visual as she worked herself up and down your shaft. You continued to spank her, the sound of your hand meeting her flesh filling the room, a soundtrack to the primal dance of your bodies.

"Oh yes... spank me harder..." Seulgi moaned, her words interspersed with little cries of pleasure. "Make my ass red... make it burn for you..."

You obliged, your hands raining down on her ass with increasing force, the sound and sensation driving you both wild. Seulgi's movements became more erratic, her ass squeezing and massaging your cock as she rode you closer to the brink. You could feel her ass tightening in coordination the moment your hand lands on her ass cheek. They were bright red at this point.

“Slut, loving your ass getting spanked” The dirty talk only seemed to fuel her desire further as she rode you with increasing speed chasing her pleasure. You sat up, and reached around finding her clit and rubbing it in firm circles, pushing her over the edge. Seulgi's ass clenched around your cock again as she came, her juices squirting even more to create a slippery, slick sensation as she rode your cock in the throes of her orgasm. Seulgi's moans turned into cries of ecstasy as you continued to rub her clit.

Adding now two fingers into her cunt, you thrust your fingers deep into her relentless, reaching as deep as you could. This added sensation only served to make Seulgi tighten her ass in pleasure even more, inducing a grunt from you. It was a truly wet mess, juices spurting everywhere as you work your fingers in her cunt. The squelching sound got increasingly louder as her cunt became wetter with every increasing moment.

“FUCK IM GONNA CUM AGAIN”

Suddenly, as if a dam broke within her, a gush of force pushes your finger out and Seulgi shoots out a few burst of squirt. Her juice splashing the front seat audience wetting all of them.

The crowd continued watching in awe as you pounded Seulgi's ass through her orgasm, her pussy still shooting spurts of liquid. Each stroke was met with a gasp from her and a collective murmur of appreciation from the onlookers.

“Let us put on a better show for your guest shall we, you whispered into her ears.” Without giving Seulgi any time to rest, you reached underneath her thighs and grabbed her thighs pulling them towards her head, exposing her completely to the crowd. Her pussy, glistening with arousal was now on full display, adding a new layer of eroticism to the scene. You locked your arms around her thighs and the back of her neck, holding her in a full Nelson position, ensuring she couldn't escape the pleasure you were about to unleash.

"You like that, baby?" you whispered in her ear, your hot breath contrasting with the cool air of the casino. "You like being on display for everyone, being fucked like the little slut you are?"

Seulgi's only response was a nod, her eyes rolling back in her head as she surrendered herself to the overwhelming sensations. Her body trembled, and you knew she was close to the edge. You wanted to take her there, to push her over the precipice of pleasure and watch her fall into a cascade of orgasmic bliss.

You began to thrust upwards vigorously, Seulgi had zero grounding or anything to balance on so she leaned back and her body moved in synchronisation with your thrust. Your thrusts became more frenzied, your hips slamming against her ass with relentless force.

Seulgi's moans turned into desperate cries, signaling her impending release. You could feel her asshole spasming around your cock, and that's when it happened—Seulgi's body convulsed, and she let out a scream of ecstasy as her pussy gushed and squirted again, spraying her juices across the table and again onto the captivated crowd.

You see some of them opening your mouth to capture the juice. It was pure debauchery.

“Fucking Exhibitionist slut”

The spectators cheered, their voices blending with Seulgi's cries of pleasure. You continued to thrust upwards, riding out her orgasm. You sense your impending orgasm as well. Her anal walls were simply squeezing and massaging you too tight and well. Her ass was perfect. With all your might, you lifted your body off the table and thrust upwards as deep as you can, and with a grunt you orgasm hard, shooting your cum deep inside her ass.

With that, you release the lock hold and fall back onto the table exhausted, Seulgi on top of you, her back on your chest. You hear the clicking of more cameras but you were too exhausted to bother.

After a short break, you turn Seulgi to the side and finally pull her ass. Your cock glistening with a mixture of her ass juices and your cum. You see your cum slowly oozing out of her freshly gaped ass, staining the table. Her rosebud was now pulsing with how much you had stretched her to the limit.

“Quick left pocket of my blazer” You reached into the pocket and noticed an oval metal object. Pulling it out you realise it's a metal butt plug, with a pink jewel embedded at the base, immediately understanding her intentions. You positioned the plug at the entrance of her well-fucked asshole. With a gentle but firm push, you inserted the plug, filling her ass once more. "This will keep your cum in my ass for your baby”

“Dirty slut, come and clean my cock, suck this dick clean off your ass juices.” Obediently, Seulgi turned her head towards your cock, which was still hard and throbbing from the intense anal session. She took you into her mouth, her warm, wet lips sliding down the length of your shaft, her tongue swirling around the head, collecting the remnants of her ass and your cum. As you withdrew from her mouth, Seulgi licked her lips, savoring the last traces of your essence. The crowd, still gathered around, erupted into applause, their cheers a fitting finale to the erotic display they had just witnessed.

You helped Seulgi off the table, her legs shaky from the intense orgasm. She leaned against you, her body still buzzing with pleasure. "That was incredible," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck. "I've never felt so exposed, so wanted, and so satisfied all at once."

“Let’s get out of here, we have garnered too much attention.” Grabbing all of your clothes you grabbed her hand to stabilise her, her legs still wobbly from the intense anal fuck you have just given her.

You quickly walked through the corridors to your rooms until you both had to part ways to head to your own rooms. “I will catch you again soon,” Seulgi said before leaning in to leave a peck on your forehead.

Your heart stumbles for a second, skipping a beat as something shifts in the air—it's like a sudden rush of energy, a spark that catches you off guard. Her lips brush your forehead softly, but the feeling lingers much longer, settling in your chest, a warmth that feels both comforting and a little overwhelming. You weren’t expecting it to affect you like this, but now you’re left with a racing heart as you watched her sexy ass sway with that buttplug perfectly lodged inside as she walked away from you.

Shaking your head you headed off to your own room as well.

After washing up and crashing onto your bed, you tapped on your access card again. To your surprise you looked at your status bar which revealed Adventurer Tier, 60% towards Trailblazer. Alongside that was many missions you have cleared but more importantly the title “Poker champion” was now attached to your status. You suspected that was the main reason for the huge jump in progress.Playing with the holographic further you notice an achievement notification bar glowing. Clicking on it, it states:

Hidden achievement unlocked. “Anal expert: Pleasure a woman using only her ass, equipment obtained : Vibrating Butt Plug”

A package suddenly dropped into your personal mailbox in your room. Unwrapping it to discover it was a buttplay similar to the one Seulgi had used, just that it had an additional button that caused it to vibrate.. You guessed that while some general items were available upon order as mentioned by Jieun on day 1. Some other items had to be unlocked through hidden achievements.

You replayed the footage of the last hand that was now in the public server, wanting to reminisce about your victory. When suddenly you noticed something..

Seulgi had the Ace of spades all along. She had the nut flush, it was her hand to win. Why the fuck did she throw the game then? A torrent of questions flooded your head as if you were an idiot. It is obvious to anybody else why she threw the game. Seulgi just wanted to get fucked in the ass, it was as simple as that. But at that moment you could not understand and comprehend her rationale for doing so.

Oh well, time to get some food, it was already 3.30pm and you had skipped lunch due to that intense session of poker and … well we know what happened.

As you sit in your usual corner of the cafeteria, the quiet hum of chatter and the clinking of trays seem distant compared to the thoughts swirling in your mind. You absentmindedly push your food around, your attention drifting. The kiss—Seulgi’s soft, unexpected kiss on your forehead—keeps replaying in your head. It’s strange. So simple, yet it’s left this strange, lingering feeling in your chest, like something unspoken, something new that you’re not sure how to handle.

You do not understand the warm fuzzy feeling inside, was it more than just sex? I mean you had already taken her ass in front of a crowd , yet after that soft kiss, something within you changed. “How is she doing? Is she thinking about it too? Or was I just another sex toy for her? You can’t help ponder those idle thoughts.

Suddenly your access card started glowing again interrupting your thoughts. An email looking notifcaiton popped up. “Ellinia open message”

Your AI helper popped up again and almost instantly you saw a simple message that made your pulse quicken.

"Invitation: Ariel’s Domain themed room"

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity immediately piquing. You hadn’t signed up for any themed room specifically, but there it was—an exclusive invitation, glowing softly against the holographic display. No sender. No hint at who had chosen you for this… mysterious experience. Nonetheless you remember that one of your goals today was to try out the theme room.

“Ariel’s Domain…” you murmured to yourself, probably something related to water or mermaids, you guessed. It was the kind of temptation you couldn’t resist, especially with the ship’s promise of exploration. Something about the room called to you—an adventure waiting beneath the surface.

The notification blinked again, urging you to take action.

With a deep breath, you tapped the screen to confirm your interest. A soft chime echoed in the air, and just like that, a new prompt appeared: "Follow the coordinates for the secret entry. Adventurer access required."

A brief pause. The excitement built as the coordinates materialized on the map of the ship. It was located on another level, tucked away in a section you hadn’t ventured into yet. You didn’t know who had arranged this, but there was no turning back now.

Your heart raced as you finished your meal, gathering your things, and making your way toward the coordinates. The further you walked, the more isolated the corridors became. Along the way you could see through the cracks of the doors all sorts of scenario.

Man taking another woman roughly from behind. One woman had a luxurious silk scarf tied loosely around her wrist as she was ate out by another woman. Moans could be heard through the doors, some room had more than 10 people in it, in a fuckfest orgy. You could not help but wonder again how Seulgi was doing. Was she in one of those rooms picking up more guys to fuck again?

“I hope she is fine” You whispered to yourselves as you continued your way through the corridors in search of the themed room.

**Meanwhile in Seulgi’s room**

Seulgi had a mischievous smile on her face as she unlocked the door to her apartment, thoroughly satisfied by you .

Little did she know, her naughty adventures were about to take an unexpected turn.

As she pushed the door open, her eyes widened in shock at the sight that greeted her.

Her three members, Irene, Wendy, and Yeri, stood in the living room, their eyes smoldering with a mixture of anger and jealousy. Each of them wore nothing but a sexy lingerie set, and prominently displayed on their hips were massive 6-inch strap-ons, glistening with lube and ready for action.

"Oh my god..." Seulgi's voice trailed off as she realized the reason for their unexpected visit. Her holes throbbed with the punishment she was about to receive.

Irene took a step forward, her strap-on swaying with her hips. "You've been a very bad girl, Seulgi. Cheating on us with a man. Was all of us not enough for you?

Her eyes were dark and voice commanding, leaving no room for argument.

Seulgi's heart raced as she felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness . She knew her members were not ones to be crossed, and now she was at their mercy.

The thought of being punished by these three beautiful women sent a shiver down her spine.

Wendy's voice, smooth as silk, added to the tension. "You've been craving something bigger and better, haven't you, Seulgi? We know you intentionally threw that last hand. You had the nut flush didn’t you? Yet you folded to him. Were you that desperate to get fucked in the ass you slut? Well, we're going to give it to you."

She ran her hands along the length of her strap-on, making sure Seulgi got a good look at what was about to fill her up.

"Please, girls, I'm sorry," Seulgi pleaded . She knew resistance was futile, and deep down, she craved the punishment they were about to deliver.

Yeri, stepped forward, her strap-on pointing menacingly towards Seulgi. "No more talking, bitch. Get on your knees and start sucking." Her voice was surprisingly assertive as the youngest but freakiest of them all. Still, she was more commanding than usual which sent a thrill through Seulgi's body.

Seulgi did as she was told, dropping to her knees and taking Yeri's strap-on into her mouth. The rubbery cock filled her mouth, and she moaned around it, the taste of lube and the feel of the veiny shaft pushing her deeper into submission.

As Seulgi sucked on Yeri's strap-on, Irene and Wendy moved behind her, their hands roaming over her body, caressing her curves and driving her wild. Irene's fingers found Seulgi's clit, rubbing it in firm circles while Wendy teased and played with the buttplug still inside her , pulling it slightly to see her tight ring stretch around the plug just to shove it back in. A loud squelching sound from her cum filled ass was heard every time she pushed the plug it. Wendy continued teasing Seulgi’s well used ass playing with her body.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Seulgi moaned around Yeri's cock, her body trembling.

She felt so full already, and they hadn't even begun to fuck her yet.

Irene pulled Seulgi's hair gently, tilting her head back. "You like that, don't you, you little slut? You love being at our mercy." Irene's words were like a drug, pushing Seulgi further into the depths of her submission.

Wendy added a finger to Seulgi's tight asshole along side the buttplug, stretching her, making her gasp around Yeri's strap-on. "We're going to fuck all your holes, Seulgi. Make you forget about him."

Yeri pulled her strap-on out of Seulgi's mouth, leaving her gasping for breath. "Now, bend over and show us how much you want it." She said leaning forward to land a hard spank on her ass.

Seulgi eagerly complied, positioning herself on all fours, her ass in the air, presenting herself for their pleasure. Irene and Yeri wasted no time, each taking a position behind Seulgi's spread legs, Irene underneath and Yeri behind.

Irene lined up her strap-on with Seulgi's dripping wet pussy, the head of the dildo nudging at her entrance. With one swift thrust, she buried herself deep inside Seulgi's tight cunt. Seulgi cried out, her body trembling as Irene began to pound her relentlessly.

At the same time, Yeri positioned her strap-on at Seulgi's sloppy asshole. Pulling out the buttplug, a wave of cum started oozing at. Before more could drop. Yeri pushed her way in, inch by inch, until she was balls-deep in Seulgi's tight rear entrance, fucking the cum deeper into her. Seulgi's moans turned into desperate cries as she was filled in both holes, her body stretched to the limit. Her moans were soon muffled as Yeri, the kinky youngest , pressed the soaked buttplug against Seulgi’s lip and wanted her to taste the mixture of your’s and Seulgi juice.

“Fuck unnie, your ass is still so tight even after he ravaged it”

Seulgi could only produce a muffled moan.

Wendy , not wanting to be left out , moved to Seulgi's head and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up presenting her strap-on to her lips.

Seulgi dropped the buttplug and eagerly took Wendy’s cock back into her mouth, sucking greedily as her girlfriends fucked her from both ends.

"Fuck, yes! Pound that pussy, Irene!" Yeri screamed as she felt Seulgi's ass tightening with every of Irene’s thrust making it harder for her to push the strap into her ass.

Seulgi was overwhelmed with pleasure. Irene's strap-on filled her so perfectly, hitting all the right spots as she’s forced to slam herself into Irene’s strap by Yeri’s ferocious pounding.

Yeri was relentless in her assault on Seulgi's ass, pounding her mercilessly, making her feel deliciously full and used. Seulgi's body was on fire, her senses overwhelmed by the intense stimulation.

The three girlfriends worked in perfect harmony, fucking Seulgi with a rhythm that pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Seulgi's orgasm built slowly, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Irene reached up, grabbing Seulgi's nipples, pinching and twisting them, sending sparks of pain-pleasure through her body. "You're going to come so hard for us, you dirty girl," she growled.

Seulgi's eyes rolled back as she felt the climax building, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." she stammered.

Wendy’s words were like a trigger. "Come for us, Seulgi! Let us feel your pussy and ass and mouth milk our cocks!"

Seulgi's body exploded in a cascade of ecstasy, her pussy clenching tightly around Irene's strap-on, her asshole gripping Yeri’s cock like a vice. She screamed into wendy’s strap-on, her throat vibrating around the rubber shaft as her orgasm consumed her.

The three women slowed their pace, allowing Seulgi to ride out her orgasm, their strap-ons still buried deep inside her. Seulgi's body trembled, her juices flowing freely as she came down from her intense climax.

"That's our good girl," Irene whispered, her breath hot on Seulgi's ear. "Now you know who can really satisfy you."

Seulgi collapsed onto the floor, her body spent but utterly satisfied. After getting her ass pounded by you, she didn’t even get a break before being so deliciously used.

As she lay there, surrounded by her lovers, she realized that sometimes the best punishment is the one that brings the most pleasure. “Was he really that good Seulgi?” Wendy asked curiously.

“Yea he hit all the right spots literally” Seulgi panted in her replies.

“Well we got to try him too then” Irene grinned her thoughts wandering off.

“HEY HE’s MINE”

“Shut up Unnie don’t be a greedy slut” Yeri moved forward slapping her 7 inch Strap on on Seulgi’s face. “We are not done with you”

With a mischievous glint in their eyes, the three girlfriends helped Seulgi to her feet. "Now, let's see if we can make you come again, but this time, all together," Yeri said, leading Seulgi to the bedroom for another round of strap-on-fueled ecstasy. Seulgi knew this was going to be a long day for her.

** Back to the present**

Eventually, you reached the entrance to Ariel’s Domain. The door was locked.

You saw the notification on the electronic system of the door that states “access card needed” Tapping on it, the door slowly opened and a burst of mist escaped.

Stepping inside, you see bubbles drifting lazily through the air. The room was large and expansive, with a circular pool at one corner of the room. The floor was made of soft, sandy textures that shifted underfoot as if you were walking along a beach at the edge of the sea.

In the centre of the room was a large rectangular empty space. You see a throne-like chair facing this space at the side, as though waiting for someone to take a seat.

Then you heard a seductive, siren sounding voice as if drawing you in.

“Welcome to Ariel’s Domain” “Please take a seat, my king.”

Scooting over you sat on the comfortable chair. You noticed handcuffs with one end already locked on the armrest of the chair. “You can use those if it helps” the serenade voice repeated again.

Before you could react, the floor beneath your feet rippled and then, a soft, surreal hum vibrated through the air. A low, almost musical sound that pulled at your senses. The rectangular empty space in front started to open , as more steam and bubbles popped up from there.

A platform started to emerge from the floor, the mist swirled around it, dissipating to reveal a large, plush bed at the center of the space. The bed looked as though it had been crafted from the finest silks, its deep red sheets glowing softly in the dim light.

And then, your gaze shifted towards the star of the show, drawn to the figures perched delicately on the bed, as if waiting for you. Princess Joy and Princess Yuna, two beautiful redhead breathtakingly beautiful with striking, vibrant red hair cascading around their shoulders, framing their flawless faces. Their eyes were locked on you, but there was something playful—something teasing—in their gazes. They were loosely dressed in lingerie with 3 seashells covering their modesty.

Joy, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed, tilted her head slightly. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Welcome to Ariel's Domain," , her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable allure.

Yuna, reclining next to her, stretched lazily, her hand brushing through her red locks, giving you a glance that sent a wave of heat through your chest. "We've been waiting," she whispered, her tone both teasing and inviting. “You have been deemed worthy, after that good dicking you gave… Seulgi”

“Fuck” you whispered. Now you know the reason, that whole escapade was obviously live-streamed and now idols are going to want some of you too. You were not going to complain though, it was a dream come through for you.

Suddenly a red notification pop-up of your holographic screen from your card. "Emergency Mission: Failure will get you kicked out of the room immediately’

Clicking onto it the words flickered “Mission: No touching yourself for 10 minutes:”

Now you understand what those handcuffs were for. You were not going to use them however, you were confident to pass this mission with flying colours. Or so you thought….

“Shall we begin Yuna” Joy turned to Yuna smiling

You quickly set up your camera on the tripod , wanting to capture the momment again.

The duo approached the chair where you sat. The tension in the room thickened as you gulped down audibly, the saliva on your throat, clenching your fist on the hands of the chair, determined to fulfil the mission. Your eyes was fixated on the woman's every move. Joy and Yuna stopped in front of the chair, their faces mere inches apart, and without hesitation, they locked lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues danced and twirled, exploring each other's mouths with an urgency.

Breaking the kiss, the women began to caress each other's bodies, their hands roaming freely over each other’s skin. Yuna's fingers trailed down Joy's neck, tracing the curve of her collarbone before dipping lower to cup her full breasts. She squeezed gently, eliciting a soft moan from Joy, who arched her back in response, pushing her chest further into Yuna's skilled hands. Joy's hands were not idle either; she grasped Yuna's waist, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together in a heated embrace.

You feel your boner becoming harder, it was painful at this point as it strained hard against your pants. You clenched harder at the armrest to prevent you from failing this mission, looking further at the reward that you will gain from this. The handcuffs were tempting to use, as means to aid yourself should you fail in your self-control but your pride refused it, believing you are able to overcome this through whatever mentality you believed you had.

Meanwhile, the seashells' lingerie that was covering all their modesty has completely been stripped and tossed to the side.Joy’s hands continued roaming over Yuna’s thighs, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh before reaching her dripping wet crotch.

“Oh, Unnie... right there," Yuna cries out, her head thrown back as Joy's fingers stroked her already soaked pussy lips. She bit her lip to stifle another moan as Joy's finger circled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure through her body. The older one was taking the lead and it was evident through her skilled fingers. Yuna's hands tightened on Joy's waist, her nails digging into the soft flesh as she fought the urge to buck her hips and seek more friction.

Sensing the younger one's growing need, she pushed her down onto the floor in front of you, her mouth replacing her fingers at Yuna's center. She kissed and sucked on Yuna's sensitive bud, her tongue darting and flicking, driving Yuna wild.

"Oh, fuck, yes!"

Yuna's hands tangled in Joy's hair, guiding her face closer, urging her on as waves of pleasure washed over her. She cried out as Joy's talented mouth brought her closer and closer to the edge. She loved the feeling of Joy's warm tongue, brushing against every inch of her folds.

"You like that, baby?" Joy asked

Yuna managed a nod in response too lost in the pleasure. Just as Yuna was about to climax, Joy pulled away, leaving her breathless and wanting.

“Why did you stop unnie”

She looked up at Joy with lust-filled eyes, her body trembling with the effort of holding back her orgasm. Joy smiled, without replying she lifted both her legs over Yuna’s head, positioning herself above her face. Yuna's eyes widened as she stared directly at her unnie’s throbbing pussy, wet with arousal and her mouth watered in anticipation. She figured Joy too was turned on from eating her out.

“Unnie gets to cum first Yuna”

Joy lowered herself onto Yuna’s waiting mouth. Eager to please and taste the delicious pussy, Yuna wrapped her arms around Joy’s thighs, pulling her close and diving into her pussy, her tongue tasting the sweet nectar. She lapped at Joy’s folds, savouring her sweet taste, her tongue delving deep into her hole.

“Oh, Yuna... yes.. Please your unnie like a good slut you are” . The dirty talk only seemed to spur the younger one on further. Her mouth and tongue became more eager to bring Joy to the brink of ecstasy. She sucked on Joy’s clit, drawing it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, causing Joy to grind herself on Yuna’s face more , and her hips to buck uncontrollably. Joy was gripping Yuna’s tits at this point to balance in her attempt to stay upright as her eager junior ravaged her sensitive flesh.

“More Yuna, make Unnie cum with that tongue of yours”

As Joy’s moan grows louder so does your self control. Your knuckles were white from clenching so hard on the armrest at this point, stopping the blood flow. The timer seemed to be going slower than usual. 5 mins remaining? What the fuck? is this rigged, how could 5 minutes only have passed. It sure as hell felt like 30 minutes to you. You started doing everything you can to maintain your composure. Shfiting around here and there. You were in an obvious paradox. To close your eyes would make it way easier in regaining some sense of composure, but to do that infront of these two sexy redheads in front of you, pleasuring each other is diabolical. Many would die to be in the position you were in.

Yuna has now proceeded to insert a finger into Joy’s tight hole, curling it upwards to seek out the magical spot deep within. With a few coordinated thrust of her fingers and her eager tongue, Joy’s resistance crumbles.

"YES! OH FUCK, YUNA!" With a loud cry, she came, her juice flooded and stained Yuna’s face and mouth. Yuna drank it all in like a good girl she is, revelling in the taste of her unnie’s essence, her own pussy throbbing in anticipation for her turn as well.

“Time for unnie to return the favor”

Joy knelt between Yuna's spread legs, gazing at her glistening pussy with desire. She leaned down, her breath hot against Yuna's sensitive skin, and blew gently, causing Yuna to shiver and moan.

Joy began to kiss and lick her way up Yuna's inner thighs, taking her time, savoring every inch of skin. She nipped and sucked at the soft flesh, leaving behind marks of passion as she went. Yuna squirmed beneath her, her body still sensitive from her orgasm denial, but she wanted more, craved the pleasure only Joy could provide.

“Please Unnie…”

As Joy's mouth neared Yuna's pussy , she paused, her hot breath teasing her swollen lips. She blew again gently, causing Yuna's hips to buck in pleasure, teasing her further. Then, with a swift motion, she dove in, her tongue plunging deep into Yuna's hole, fucking her with a relentless rhythm. Yuna's hands gripped the carpet, her back arching off the floor as she cried out, her body already responding to Joy's skilled touch.

Joy added another finger to her assault, stretching Yuna open as she scissored her fingers, to massage her inner walls. Yuna's juices flowed freely, coating Joy's hand as she worked her magic, her thumb circling Yuna's clit in perfect counterpoint to the thrusts of her fingers. Yuna's body trembled, her breath coming in short gasps, as she hovered on the brink of another powerful orgasm.

With a final, desperate cry, Yuna's body convulsed, her pussy clenching around Joy's fingers as she came hard, her juices squirting out in rhythmic pulses, soaking the carpet beneath her. Joy lapped at her, drinking in every drop, her own pussy throbbing in sympathy as she enjoyed the power she held over her junior's pleasure.

As Yuna lay panting, her body panting from the intense orgasm. Joy leaned down and kissed her softly, sharing the taste of their juices.

2 minute remaining. At this point you were sure they were playing some kind of sick joke, it was not your delusion or desperation, but you were so damn sure, the timer was actually moving slower than normal. Either way, failing this mission would get you kicked out of the room which is the last thing you wanted, after having come this far.

“Let us continue this on the bed Yuna”

As they swayed their sexy hips and moved away from you towards the central bed, Joy turned around giving you a teasing look before grabbing a mysterious looking bottle along the way.

"Let's make this night unforgettable, for our dear guest Yuna” Joy whispered in a seductive voice while taking another glance at you. Yuna nodded, her eyes locked on her unnie’s face.

With skilled hands, Joy poured a generous amount of oil onto her palms, the liquid warming as it made contact with her skin. She rubbed her hands together, creating a slippery, fragrant lubricant. Joy's eyes followed Yuna's every move, her pussy throbbing excited at what was about to unfold.

Starting at Yuna's shoulders, Joy began to massage the oil into her skin, her touch firm yet gentle. She worked her way down, gliding her hands over Yuna’s back, her touch sending shivers down her junior’s spine. As Joy's hands moved lower down to her ass she gave it another firm squeeze. Yuna let out a soft moan, her body responding to the sensual stimulation.

"Your hands feel so good, Unnie," Yuna moaned softly. Joy smiled, her fingers tracing circles on Yuna’s back, making her squirm from the sensitivity. “This is just the beginning” Joy whispered seductively, into Yuna’ ears.

After awhile, seeing that Yuna’s back has been sufficiently oiled infront, she guided Yuna to lie down on her back on the bed.

Squeezing more lube, Joy rubbed the special looking lube all over her own body. Her hands glided down her own arms, down to her ample breasts , squeezing and kneading them gently as she spreaded the lube to cover every inch of her breasts.. Yuna’s mouth watered as she imagined her hands touching them and eager of what was about to happen. With deliberate slowness, Joy coated the remainder of her body with the slick lube, her hands gliding over her flat stomach and down to her trimmed well kept pubic mound.

She teased her own pussy lips, sliding her fingers through the glistening folds, but stopping short of giving herself the pleasure she craved. Instead, she moved to straddle Yuna's thighs, positioning herself above her lover’s body. Then she began to rub her oil breasts over the front of Yuna’s body, her hard nipples grazing against the skin of Yuna’s body. At times, their nipples met which elicited more moans from the Maknae.

“Unnie your nipples feels so good on me”

Joy smiled, however, her body was starting to feel heated as well, she needed to satisfy her own arousal, her pussy was dripping wet at this point. Throwing her legs over Yuna’s face once more, she lowered her pussy to Yuna’s waiting mouth. Yuna's tongue snaked out, licking Joy's slick folds, tasting her sweetness. Joy moaned, grinding her pussy against Yuna's mouth, feeling her clit throb as Yuna's tongue flicked and teased.

Wanting to give Yuna the same pleasure, Joy shifted her position, lowering her body to a sixty-nine position. She looked down seeing Yuna’s glistening pussy, already swollen and wet. Joy wasted no time, lowering her mouth to Yuna's pussy, sucking and licking her folds, driving Yuna wild with pleasure. She teased Yuna's clit with her tongue, circling it, then flicking it rapidly, making Yuna buck her hips and moan loudly.

Yuna's mouth and tongue worked feverishly on Joy's pussy, matching the intensity of her lover's movements. Joy's thighs quivered as Yuna's tongue delved deep, her mouth sucking on her clit. The sensations were overwhelming, and Joy could feel her orgasm building, her pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Fuck Unnie, you are so good at this” Yuna managed in between her moans, her face too was drenched in the sweet nectar of her senior.

Joy's mouth continued to devour Yuna's pussy, tasting her juices, driving her closer to the edge. Pulling away for a moment Joy screamed “ I want you inside me right now!”

Yuna obliged immediately, running her fingers through Joy’s wet folds collecting all the slick lube and her natural juices, then she began to massage Joy’s clit making her squirm and moan.

Joy's breath quickened as Yuna's fingers teased her sensitive bud, bringing her closer to the brink of orgasm. "Fuck me, Yuna, dont make your unnie wait”

Positioning herself at Joy’s entrance she slowly pushed her fingers inside once again, feeling the tight heat of Joy’s pussy enveloping her.

“You’re so tight, Unnie”

Yuna's fingers worked in and out, scissoring Joy's pussy, hitting all the right spots. The pleasure was overwhelming, causing Joy to eat Yuna more vigorously, her own fingers now pumping into her junior at the matching pace. Yuna added a third finger, stretching Joy open, her thumb seeking out Joy's hard clit, rubbing it in circular motions.

"Oh yes, right there," Joy gasped, her body trembling. Yuna's fingers were relentless, fucking her with a steady rhythm, bringing her closer to the brink of pleasure. Joy's pussy clenched around Yuna's fingers, her juices flowing freely as she neared her climax.

"I'm going to cum, Yuna,"

“Let us cum together Unnie”

With that both of them began to increase their pace, fingers pounding into each other’s wetness as the squelching sound of their thrusting started to fill their room.

“FUCKKKK” Both of them screamed as their orgasms exploded through their bodies and waves after waves of pleasures washed over them. Their pussy contracted around each other’s fingers, as their juices flowed freely soaked the sheets and each other's faces.

As they recovered from the orgasm, they leaned in for another passionate kiss. “That was amazing Yuna-shi” “Well, I’m not done with you yet Unnie” Yuna smirked. Joy was more than happy to let Yuna take the lead this time.

“5….4…3….2….1” After what felt like hours , the timer finally hit 0. Quest completed.

Rewards attained:

1x Ariel’s liquid

Description: Ariel's mysterious liquid, rumoured to have unique properties. Said to boost sexual vitality and arousal by 50%.

On the chair you were seated in, a small compartment popped up beside you, presenting you your reward. Damn now this all made sense as to why Yuna and Joy seemed so into it and crazy in heat. The lube was an additional aphrodisiac that helped with sexual arousal you were so going to try it. Then an additional notification popped up.

Hidden mission passed

Description: Pass the quest without the use of handcuffs.

Title accquired: Restrain King

Rewards attained:

2x Handcuffs

Almost immediately the two handcuffs on the arms of the chair snapped open, allowing you to keep them. You didn't have much use for them at this point as compared to Ariel’s liquid. Just as you stood up and were about to join them, a voice thundered across the room.

“Sit the fuck back down, we arent done here” You see Joy staring at you, in a certain manner that you recognise disobedience would not be allowed. Fuck not this again, after having endured that arduous torture, you were going to have to wait again.

“You can touch yourself though”

Upon hearing those words , you got rid of all your clothes in a matter of a few seconds. Curious about the liquid, you squeezed some of it and started stroking your hardened shaft. Finding some relief after a long period. Shortly after, you feel your body becoming more aroused, your cock throbbing with arousal, as you continued enjoying the show unfold infront of you.

Yuna has now taken the lead, positioning herself above Joy, with their thighs intertwined with each other. Their pussies are now aligned, ready for more pleasure. With slow, deliberate movements, she began to grind her pussy against Joy's, their clits rubbing together, creating a delicious friction. Joy moaned, wrapping her legs around Yuna's waist, pulling her closer, desperate for more contact.

The sensations were overwhelming and both women were soon lost in a haze of pleasure. They could feel each other’s heat. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, their pussies becoming slicker with each thrust, their clits throbbing in unison. The lube only served to aid in sliding against each other. Joy's hands roamed over Yuna's body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, driving her deeper into pleasure. Yuna leaned forward capturing Joy’s luscious lips again as they grinded against each other while making out, exploring each other’s mouth.

Yuna felt her orgasm building, an intense pressure in her core. She increased the pace, grinding harder, faster, feeling Joy's pussy grinding around her own, the friction sending them into overdrive. Joy's fingers dug into Yuna's ass, groping them and holding her close as they scissor their pussies together, the pleasure pushing both of them to an intense orgasm.

“That’s it, Yuna, faster please” Joy responded to the increased grinding by also bucking her hips to meet Yuna’s pussy. At this point their pussies were smeared with each other's juices, slick from the lube , it was a slippery mess as they were grinding and thrusting into each other with desperation.

“Let us cum together again Unnie” Breaking the kiss for a moment, Yuna managed between moans before recapturing Joy’s lips. Almost as if they read each other's minds, both their fingers went to the other’s clit and gave it a slight pinch, causing both their bodies to shake violently in orgasm moaning into each other’s mouth. You see splurts of squirt came out spraying onto each other’s body, it was a hot sight to behold. They fall onto the bed, as Joy collapses onto Yuna , their bodies recovering from the violent orgasm.

You were done with waiting and you were going to join them despite whatever else they say.. You had waited long enough and you were going to claim what you deserve. Positioning yourself behind the two girls, you push your hard throbbing cock between the gap formed between both of their pussies, feeling the warmth of their sensitive folds, massaging both sides of your shaft. “Oh God,” Joy moaned, surprised at the sudden contact on her sensitive folds, that was still throbbing from her intense orgasm. You continued to slide your thick shaft between the pussy sandwich, teasing their sensitive skin and clit but not entering any of them.

“Fuck this feels incredible” you moaned.

Yuna nodded, her eyes closing as she savoured the sensation of your teasing motion.You were going to draw out their pleasure, not thrusting into them just as how you were denied of touching yourself, before eventually giving them what you knew they craved. After all, they did invite you exclusively to this room. With each stroke, you felt both their pussy lips part a little, their wetness coating your shaft, allowing for you to slide more with ease alongside the lube that you had generously used on your shaft. The feeling of the slick heat surrounding your cock with the increased arousal through the lube was almost too much to bear.

"You like that, don't you?" Joy teased, turning her head to look back at you. "You like teasing us, making us squirm."

Yuna giggled "He's a tease, but we can be just as naughty."

“Please, fuck us, take us both” Joy begged, as lust slowly overtook her.

Yuna echoed her plea, her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes fuck our pussies. We need to feel you inside”

Unable to resist their seduction any longer.. With a growl, you thrust your hips forward, aiming at the older one’s wet snatch first, driving your cock deep into her wet , warm welcoming pussy. Joy cried out, ,as she felt the full length of your shaft filling her, stretching out so well. After a few thrust, you see Yuna using her feet to massage your cock when it comes out of Joy’s pussy and slowly guiding your cockhead to her own entrance.

Wanting to give equal attention , you plunge into Yuna’s waiting pussy. The sensation was incredible—the contrast between their pussies, Yuna’s one being tighter but Joy’s felt more wet and warm , welcoming you with her experienced pussy, which drove you wild. You thrust harder, establishing a rhythm, fucking them both with long, powerful strokes, alternating between the both of them.

Joy and Yuna cried out in unison, their bodies moving in sync with his thrusts. They reached for each other, their hands entwining as they surrendered to the pleasure coursing through them. Joy's fingers found Yuna's nipples, pinching and rolling them gently, while Yuna's hand travelled down her own body, her middle finger dipping into her own wetness before finding Joy's clit.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Joy cried, her body bucking against his thrusts. "Your cock feels so good inside me!"

Yuna moaned in agreement, her eyes rolling back in her head as she focused on the pleasure. "I love being fucked like this, feeling you in both of us."

Your breath was coming in short,sharp pants as you struggled to maintain control.

The sight of these two beautiful women, their bodies glistening with sweat, their mouths open in ecstasy, was almost your undoing. You wanted to make them scream your name with pleasure, to hear their cries of release as they climaxed together. As you withdrew your cock from Yuna’s pussy this time, leaving her gasping for more, you were ready to plunge it again into Joy’s welcoming walls. But before you could, Yuna ever the freaky one had other ideas.

“Wait, Let us both suck you off first so that you can paint our faces.”

With that, she slid down the bed, until her face was level with your straining cock. Joy, understanding her juniors intention, mirrored her movement, their heads coming to rest on either side of your shaft.

You looked down, your eyes widening as your understood their intentions.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, as your hands came to rest of both of their heads, threading through their hair.

Without further prompting, Joy and Yuna opened their mouths, their tongues extending to lick at your swollen cockhead. They teased you, their mouths hot and wet, their tongues dancing around your sensitive flesh without actually taking you in, just as how you took your time before plunging into them previously.

"Mmm," Joy hummed, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the taste of you. "You taste so good."

Yuna nodded, her lips closing around the head of his cock, sucking gently. "We are going to please every inch of this delicious cock."

They began to work together, Yuna now took you deep into her mouth, her lips sliding down your shaft. Meanwhile Joy had moved under to focus on licking the base of your cock, that is not covered by Yuna. Your head fell back, as your breath quickened into short pants, trying to maintain whatever composure you have from the amazing double blowjob and pairs of lips on your shaft.

As Yuna began to take the entirety of your cock into her mouth, her nose pressing agaisnt your pubic area, Joy moved to lapped eagerly at your balls. The sensation was incredible, beyond any types of description, their mouths were hot and wet and their tongues that was swirling and flicking on your cockhead and balls was pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

You felt their hands on your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh as they held you in place, ensuring you were unable to escape their skilled mouths.

‘Fuck, that feels too amazing” you groaned as your hands tightened around their hair.

“You’re are both so fucking good at this”

Joy and Yuna looked up to maintain eye contact with you while giving you the best blowjob you have ever received. Sensing your pleasure hitting its peak, they increased their effort. Joy had taken over Yuna this time, her head bobbing in a fast rhythm. Joy sucked hard as she withdrew her mouth, creating a tight seal around his cock, then released the pressure as she slid her lips back down his shaft. Meanwhile Yuna attempted to take both of your balls into your mouth, sucking them eagerly.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum," Your hips thrusting forward involuntarily from the intense pleasure you are receiving.

Sensing your impending release, Joy and Yuna increased their pace, their mouths working feverishly to bring you to the edge. They wanted to taste your cum, to feel it explode all over their faces, to feel the warmth on their skin.

“Paint our faces Daddy”

“FUCK”

The word Daddy sent a trigger, alongside the fact that you had been denied so long, from the mission. You exploded, shooting out a massive load, the first hot jet on Joy followed by Yuna. They moaned in satisfaction, their eyes closing as they continued to stroke your shaft through the orgasm, as the cum covered their faces.

Using their fingers, Yuna and Joy collected the cum on their faces before tasting it, savoring the taste of your release.

“Delicious, we will need more of this from you, but this time in our other mouth”

Even though you were in the midst of your orgasm subsiding and your cock softening, you were stirred by the girl's words, your cock already showing signs of recovering to its former glory. You figured that Ariel’s liquid effect was actually working very well in increasing your sexual vitality and recovery period.

Yuna and Joy moved to position themselves on fours, presenting their gorgeous asses. Their skin was glistening in sweat and lube which only made it more enticing and an invitation that was impossible to resist.

“Which one of us do you want to fuck first Daddy” Yuna teased again. As if compelled by an unseen force, you stepped forward to the younger of two, like a siren pulling in her prey. Yuna braced herself on her hands and knees, arching her back more to offer her already wet pussy that was glistening in the dim light.

Gripping your rigid cock, you guided it to Yuna's entrance, feeling the heat radiating from her core. With a slow, deliberate thrust, you entered her, savoring again the tight grip of her pussy walls as they enveloped your shaft. She let out a soft gasp, as you began to move in and out of her, setting a steady, sensual rhythm.

“Oh yes, fuck me, fill me up Daddy”

Her words spurred you on, and you picked up the pace, your hips moving in a primal dance as you drove into her again and again. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with Yuna's moans and the wet, erotic sounds of your bodies joining.

Joy, still on all fours beside Yuna, was not to be forgotten. As you continued to pound into Yuna's willing body, you reached out with your free hand, stroking Joy's soft, supple skin. You traced your fingers along her spine, eliciting a shiver from her, before sliding your hand down to cup her plump ass cheek.

"Mmm, I want you too," Joy said looking at you.

With your free hand, you found Joy's pussy, already wet and ready, and slipped a finger inside her. You began thrusting your fingers in the same pace that you were thrusting your length into Yuna eliciting a moan from the older one.

“Fuck that’s it’ Joy moaned, pushing against your finger. “Keep fucking us both”

You obliged, pumping your finger in and out of Joy's tight hole while continuing to thrust into Yuna's welcoming warmth. The sounds of their moans and the wet, slick noises of your fingers and cock working in and out of their pussies created a symphony of pleasure.

Yuna's body began to tremble, her muscles clenching around your cock as her orgasm built. Joy had now leaned forward to capture Yuna’s mouth in a deep kiss once again, her tongue exploring the mouth of the younger. Wanting more pleasure, Yuna moved her hands to clit and rubbed firm circles around it sending waves of pleasure through her body. You felt Yuna’s pussy began to contract tighter and tighter around your shaft before she finally broke.

“I’m cumming!” Yuna cried out.

You were not going to stop as you continued to pound deeply into her, driving her over the edge again and again as you sensed your own release building. You could feel Yuna’s pussy trying to push you out from overstimulation but you refused, thrusting faster into her, fucking her through her orgasm. This task proved to be too tough given how tight Yuna’s pussy was. Removing your fingers from joy and grabbing Yuna’s asscheeks. With a final, powerful thrust, you you emptied your load deep inside Yuna's pulsing pussy, filling her with your hot cum.

As Yuna's body shook with the aftershocks of her orgasm, you pulled out of her, your cock glistening with a mixture of her juices and your cum. Joy, ever eager, wasted no time in replacing your cock with her mouth, taking you deep into her throat as she sucked and licked, cleaning you thoroughly.

"Mmm, you taste so good," Joy purred, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. "Now it's my turn to feel that big cock inside me."

“Fuck give me 5 minutes please.” You collapsed on the bed after having two intense orgasms. Unexpectedly, Ariel’s liquid was shortening your recovery period again, faster than you expect and within 1-2 minutes you could feel cock hardening as Joy moved into position on fours and used her hands to spread her folds, presenting her glistening pussy.

You moved behind her, your cock already hardening at the sight as she shook her ass cheeks, and you were mesmerised at the ripples it formed.

“Naughty slut” You said as you gave one of her cheeks a loud spank, her pale skin turning into a shade of red. Resting your cock between her ass cheeks, you moved up and down enjoying the soft skin enveloping your cock. Before you could enter her, Yuna the freak surprised you both agian.

With a mischievous grin, Yuna crawled underneath Joy, positioning herself between Joy's legs. She looked up at you, her eyes bright before she turned her attention to Joy's swollen pussy. With a soft, wet sound, Yuna's tongue slid along Joy's slit, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the older redhead.

"Oh fuck, Yuna!" Joy exclaimed, her hands gripping the sheets as she arched her back, offering herself to her friend's talented mouth.

Yuna's mouth worked its magic, her tongue flicking and probing, driving Joy wild with desire. As Yuna feasted on her pussy, Joy's eyes sought yours, a silent plea for more. You understood her unspoken request and moved to join them.

Guiding your cock to Joy's entrance, you slowly pushed into her, feeling her tight walls stretch to accommodate your thickness. Joy's eyes rolled back in her head as she moaned, her body accommodating your length as you filled her.

"Yes, fuck me," she panted, her hands reaching down to grasp Yuna's hair, urging her to continue her oral ministrations.

You began to move in a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of Joy's tight heat while Yuna's tongue worked in unison with you, licking and sucking at her clit. At times Yuna would move to plant her tongue on your shaft as it came out of her Unnie’s pussy, tasting both of your mixed juices at once. She was a true naughty slut.

You would reward her by plunging deep into her mouth every here and there and alternate it with Joy’s pussy. The sensation of being inside Joy while watching Yuna pleasure the both of you with her tongue was almost too much to bear. You could feel every inch of your shaft was accounted for be it with Yuna’s tongue or Joy’s inviting walls.

As you fucked Joy, you leaned forward, your hands grasping her slender waist, pulling her back against your chest. With each forward thrust, you slid your cock deep into Joy's pussy, while Yuna's mouth and tongue worked on her clit, driving her wild with pleasure.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" Joy cried out, her body trembling as her orgasm built. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You showed no mercy, pounding into her harder, your balls slapping against Yuna's chin as she continued to lick and suck eagerly. After a few more thrust, Yuna bit down on Joy’s clit which sent her into another orgasm for the night.

“FUCK I’m squirting’

You felt a gush of liquid push against your cock, pushing it out as she squirted all over the younger’s face. Yuna eagerly lapped up every single sweet nectar and continued to eat her unnie out through her orgasm.

Wanting your own release, you forced your cock back into her walls. WIth a few more powerful thrust, you felt your third orgasm building and buried yourself deep inside her. Joy responded by clenching her pussy around you, milking you as her body was still shaking with the force of her orgasm.

“FUCK IM CUMMING TOO” Your cock began to twitch as you filled her with your hot, sticky cum, your final load for the day.

Breathless and spent, you withdrew from Joy's body, your cock glistening with her juices and your cum. Yuna, still underneath Joy, looked up at you with a satisfied smile, her face glistening with the evidence of her own pleasure.

"That was incredible," Joy breathed, reaching down to caress Yuna's cheek. "But I think we're not done yet, are we?"

As the three of you lay there, sweaty and satisfied, the possibilities for further pleasure seemed endless. After a few more rounds you were utterly spent and done for the day.

“You were indeed as good as what we saw in the videos”

“Thank you....This was incredibly crazy"

**10pm**

You’ve washed up and have returned to your own luxurious suite. Your body is sore, your mind still reeling from the events that had just occurred, leaving you slightly disoriented. The familiar surroundings offer little comfort as you collapse onto the bed. The events of day one feel like a strange dream—an unsettling, surreal blur. But now, it's day two , nothing much has changed it still feels unreal, getting to fuck all of this idols, it was indeed a dream come through. You glanced at your newly obtained equipment, maybe it was the effect of the Ariel’s liquid still lingering. Unsure what the handcuffs were for at this point you tug all into one of the wardrobe, alongside the vibrating buttplug you had previously obtained.

Your thoughts slowly wandered again to the soft kiss Seulgi had planted…. “ I wonder how she is doing”.

Just then a message notification popped up on your window. You swipe the screen, reading the words that make your heart skip a beat.

"Want to hang at the infinity pool? At the front of the deck?".

Your pulse quickens, you are unsure why but Seulgi’s message made your heart flutter, and with excitement, you hesitated no second and replied “See you in 5 minutes”

You grabbed whatever you needed and rushed to the infinity pool as quickly as possible.

As you reach the infinity pool, Seulgi was just stepping out of the pool, water dripping from her toned body, the water glistening off her skin. In her swimsuit, she looks effortlessly stunning—so confident, so captivating. Your heart races as you watch her approach, and for a moment you lose track of your surroundings.

She catches your gaze and flashes a smile.

"Hey, nice to see you again," she says with her sweet voice but you notice a slight limp in her step as she walks toward you.

“Damn I sure did a number on you, to have your limping”

Seulgi flushed about hearing that “It wasn't just you, my groupmates contributed” She subconsciously blurted.

Your mind races, trying to process her words, but before you can ask anything further, Seulgi quickly cuts in, waving her hand dismissively.

“Wait what”

"Shh, let's move on," she adds, her voice slightly embarrassed, her tone clearly wanting to change the subject.

"So... how was Joy? Was she a good fuck?" she asks, raising an eyebrow playfully.

The question catches you off guard, and your face flushes instantly. Damn, of course she knows. You had hoped the details of your evening with Joy and Yuna might stay under the radar for a while longer, but Seulgi would be the first few to find out.

With a sheepish chuckle, you stammer, "Yeah, she... she’s great. Really... she left me spent.. Yuna contributed a ton too”

Seulgi’s expression changes, and her cheeks turn a shade pinker, but she hides it behind a sly smile, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Spent, huh?" she teases, her voice dripping with playful amusement. "Sounds like quite the evening. You’re not too tired to hang out with me, are you?"

“No, definitely not!!" you exclaim, perhaps a bit too loudly, as if to prove how not-tired you are. "I would love to hang out with you!" You quickly beat yourself up internally, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so... eager. Desperate, even. Great. Now she probably thinks you're too into this.

Seulgi chuckles softly, clearly amused by your flustered response.

"Relax," she says gently, her tone almost teasing but with a hint of reassurance. "I was just messing with you. It’s cool." She leans back, resting her arms on the edge of the pool.

"Seulgi... you won that last hand didnt you?"

"Oh did I? I must have missed it then, doesnt matter we both won and got what we wanted" Seulgi acted innocent. Sensing she did not want to be asked further you moved on.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Seulgi casually asks, "Do you like photography?"

It’s a question you didn’t expect, you nod feeling a sense of excitement, afterall it was your passion.

"That sounds amazing," she says, leaning in with genuine curiosity. "Teach me? I’ve always wanted to learn how to take better photos, and was thinking of opening up a exhibition”

"Of course," you say, grabbing your camera from where it rests nearby,

You both head over to a quiet spot with the best light—where the ocean meets the ship. You started being a total nerd, explaining the basics: shutter speed, aperture, ISO, and how to use angles to capture the world in new ways.

Seulgi listens intently, her eyes focused on your every move. As you demonstrate how to adjust the lens, your hands brush lightly against hers. You notice the way her fingers hesitate for a moment, almost as if she’s savoring the contact. Maybe it was just your imagination.

"Try this," you say softly, standing behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. You position her hands, your arms lightly brushing against hers, and guide the lens to focus on the horizon. "Focus on the angle—try to capture the moonlight reflecting on the water. The way it stretches across the sea. Get as close as you can without losing the perspective."

Seulgi holds the camera steady, her breath catching for a brief moment as the moonlight catches her profile. She’s beautiful, and the way she looks through the lens is mesmerizing. The world seems to slow as she clicks the shutter, capturing the moment, and you can’t help but feel the warmth between you two growing.

You step back, watching her as she looks down at the photo, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Wow," she says, her voice soft. "I didn’t think it would look like that. The angle really makes a difference." She looks up at you, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"You’re a natural," you reply with a grin, feeling a rush of pride for her, but also something more intimiate.

Seulgi laugh cutely. As she steps closer to you, her breath barely a whisper away, she asks, "What about you? Do you have a favorite angle for a shot?"

You feel the connection between you two, the quiet tension that lingers in the way you both move, the way your eyes lock for just a second too long.

"I think…" you pause, feeling the weight of the moment, "The best angle is always the one that feels right at the time. The one that lets you see things in a new light. Like this moment, for example." You gesture between the two of you. She looks at you.

She raises her camera again, but this time, it’s not the horizon, she attempts a selfie with the camera with the both of you in the frame.. "Let’s capture this moment," she says. You stand still, suddenly acutely aware of how close you are, the way her eyes linger on you. "I want to remember this."

The photo turned out surprisingly well, she was an idol afterall, you swear your face was redder from blushing.

You and Seulgi now lie side by side on long, cushioned lounge chairs. The air is cool, the gentle sea breeze rustling through your hair. The sound of the waves is calming, like a lullaby from the ocean itself. You both have been talking and laughing for hours, it is almost midnight at this point. You simply lie there, gazing up at the vast night sky. It’s peaceful, almost surreal, the kind of quiet that allows you to just be in the moment, a good break from… well an pretty intense workout.

"This is nice," Seulgi murmurs

"Yeah, it really is,"

Seulgi shifted slightly on the chair turning her head towards you, before you can fully process it, she leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Her lips are warm against your skin, and the tenderness of it makes your heart flutter in a way that takes your breath away again. You swear some love cupid had just shot an arrow at you. But just as you’re about to say something, your access card starts glowing and making sounds.

“GRR way to ruin the moment”

Pulling it out , you realise your progress bar has been filled to a 100%, probably from the completion of the missions from the theme room, you weren't the clearest on how progress all worked still.

Adventurer Tier, 100% towards Trailblazer.

It was strange that it did not automatically promote you to the next tier. Before you have further questions, another notification pops up on your holographic screen.

Rank up mission: Taming the Jins

Two more buttons appeared in the notification.

As if to play a prank that you had no choice but to accept this mission. You had a 1000 questions, you see Seulgi eyes widened slightly before wishing you good luck…

— Somewhere in the cruise—

Loud moans could be heard echoing the entire room. In the middle was a desk, a petite girl sitting in the middle, with another between her thighs eating her out. It was surrounded by many screens capturing the different sex scenes happening all around the cruise. The central one positioning in front of her was the one you were just in, Ariel’s domain room.

“Fuck yes, that’s the spot” Jieun loudly moaned from the pleasure she was receiving from the younger girl eating her out eagerly, as she rubbed herself watching all of the sex scenes unfold. Chaewon slowly emerged from under the desk, her mouth and chin glistening with the juices from Jieun’s latest orgasm.

“How is his progression? Going well?” Chaewon asked cheekily.

“Yes, better than expected actually, I’m excited to see what he has to offer”... especially with his next task at hand…

(To be continued)

===============

Hope you guys enjoy. If you are interested ,drop me a commission via pm!! If not reblogs comments and likes will be appreciated! Sorry this came out late, hope there's not much mistakes as I only did a quick proof read.

#red velvet smut #seulgi smut #itzy smut #iu smut #kpop smut #joy smut #irene smut #yeri smut #wendy smut #chaewon smut #yuna smut

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lovemikage · 2 months ago

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𝘽𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙈 : 𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ( 𝙛𝙩. 𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞 )

summary: you confess to your boyfriend bachira you think his best friend isagi is cute. he decides to do some meddling of his own. wc: 1.4k warnings: fem!reader, dub-conish (reader isn't aware isagi is there oops), humiliation, praise, gratuitous dialogue a/n: hello hello beautiful people ! this is my submission for @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event, with the prompt bachira & humiliation ! please check out the other writers + fics if they tickle your fancy. i have not written smut like this in ... a year, i think, so please be gentle with me. hope you love it, please comment & rb if you do ! credit to @/cafekitsune for the beautiful mdni divider !

" he feels the same, you know. i don’t know why you were so secretive. "

your eyes, previously squeezed shut, fly open, and every muscle that had been turned into jelly from your recent orgasm tenses up immediately. you shift with the intention to move away from your boyfriend, but it’s in vain – bachira’s large palm and long fingers splay against your pelvis, pushing you down into the bed. it doesn’t hurt, nothing with bachira ever does, but it’s insistent in the same way his fingers circling your clit are.

" what do you – ah! – m-meguru, what do you m-mean? " you know what he means, you’re unsure why you’re asking. bachira doesn’t mind, though, he always loves to tell a story.

“ well – " his tone is sing-song, sickly sweet, and it’s clear he’s having way more fun than he should be ( than you think he should be, anyway ). a lithe finger pushes its way through your folds to slip inside of you, and your hips buck at the same time you whine – too much, not yet, still sensitive. he won’t listen, “ remember that one time you told me ‘sagi was cute? then played it off like you were joking? you were right, by the way, so don’t think i’m mad, promise i’m not. but it got me thinking – "

one finger turns to two and the burn makes you squeeze your eyes shut again. it’s nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, but enough to make you just that little bit uncomfortable. it doesn’t help that you’re so on edge, “ bachira – "

“ shhhhh. anyway, it got me thinking, you know? he’d never admit it ‘cause he’s my best friend, but i know he thinks you’re cute. " the look you give him has his head shaking, “ don’t talk! i’m not done – i remembered, when we first met you he called dibs. you liked me more – obviously – so that didn’t matter, just a funny joke after the fact. regardless, i had the idea to … well, i was eavesdropping on you the other day – "

an indignant sound leaves you and you squirm more; bachira sighs, lets his golden eyes flick down to your ankle, pretty pink panties dangling from them. quickly he pauses, uses the hand on your hips to pick it up. you whimper, both from the loss of movement inside of you and because you know what he’s about to do, you’ve had enough sex throughout the course of your relationship ( more than normal, according to your friends ). you’re proved right when he taps the side of your cheek, prompting you to open up – you do, ever-obedient, despite the red-hot humiliation burning in your cheeks. cotton presses between your lips and fills your mouth, your whine becomes muffled. bachira beams, “ there we go. always so good for me, hm? “ another pat to your cheek. your eyes start to water – you feel like a prized showdog or something.

“ much better. " you fight the urge to roll your eyes; it doesn’t last long because bachira’s back to hovering next to you, his shadow imposing. you feel vulnerable, exposed and open for whatever he wants to do. right now, it seems like all he wants to do is make you cum in the most embarrassing way possible. he scissors his fingers and grins when you cry out, big and goofy and too lighthearted for what he’s talking about, “ back to what i was saying – i was eavesdropping on you and your friends the other night. sue me, i’m curious. heard you talking about him – agreeing when one of them said he’s hot, you know, stuff like that. kept it in the back of my mind for later. but then – yesterday, when i came home, i got here earlier than you thought i did. found you. ”

your mind races in an attempt to figure out where your boyfriend is going with all of this. yesterday, yesterday – oh. oh my god.

“ you’re so cute when you moan, you know? i know i always tell you, but i can’t help it. so pretty, just like – " bachira curls his fingers, lets them brush against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eliciting a low, muffled moan, “ – that. you were doing that, saying my name, like always. i was just about ready to go in when i heard his, too. s’when i realized it was time. "

the tears previously welling up fall, now. big, fat droplets running down your face, taking your mascara with them and smearing the pretty makeup you’d done for your date tonight. you feel pathetic, like you’d been caught. it makes sense, now; you thought you had heard him come in before he announced himself, but it didn’t make sense, so you brushed it off. now you realize he had just gone back out and made a point of announcing his entrance the second time. you want to look away in embarrassment but bachira won’t let you, his fingers picking up their pace at the same time he grips your chin in his hand. combined with the panties stuffing your mouth, you can’t say what you want to – i’m sorry, i’m sorry, it doesn’t mean anything, i’m sorry.

what’s worse is it all feels so good, bachira’s fingers pumping inside of you at an almost dizzying pace, thumb carefully circling your clit with just enough pressure to make all thoughts leave your head. you can feel your orgasm fast approaching, a knot in your tummy threatening to unravel. it always amazes you, how bachira knows just how to make you fall apart within seconds. he knows you inside and out, could take you apart and put you back together again. sometimes you think he’d probably like to.

in your panicked state, though, you hadn’t realized what he said – it’s time. time for what?

wide, wet eyes, embarrassed and earnest all at once, meet bachira’s own – tender, loving, with that bit of mischief behind them. the eyes you love so much.

as always, he seems to read your mind, and his soft, fond smile turns to another shit-eating grin. his fingers don’t stop their pace when he speaks again, “ thought i’d ask him to join us. you’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? oh – " his words break off into a moan, his collected exterior cracking if only for a moment. the way you clench around him tells him everything he needs to know.

not like he’d just take that as an answer, though.

“ she likes that, huh? pretty pussy needs two cocks to be satisfied. i know, i know, s’okay – we just need to make sure that you want it. i need to make sure you want it. don’t needa use your words, you know that. be good for me, baby, like you always are. ”

you break, then – you gush around the fingers digging deep inside of you, your eyes blown wide, glazed over from his sweet talk. all embarrassment melts away, your brain mush. while your legs shake and your hips buck you nod, almost wildly, whining and crying around the intrusion in your mouth while bachira fucks you through it all. you do want isagi here, you want them both, you want – everything, really. your hand grips his arm so hard you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks, pulling him close in what you can only describe as an attempt to make him a part of you. your bachira.

“ fuck this. you’re an asshole, bachira. can’t believe you made me fucking watch. i’ll be there in ten. ”

you freeze, snapped out of subspace in an instant. you register a lot of things, then – how hard bachira is against your leg, cock thick and heavy and leaking; how that voice definitely belonged to isagi, irritated and gruff; and how bachira’s no longer grinning at you but at the laptop set up on his desk. the one you’d thought was off.

“ don’t be mad. ” again, bachira knows you, which is why he says it the second the call drops. you’re too embarrassed to speak, just looking at him dumbfounded and still fucked out from your previous orgasms, “ and don’t try to clean up. he’ll be sad if it’s not messy. ”

you shut your eyes to try and push away the humiliation. there’s a pause from your boyfriend, and while you can’t see him, you can feel him slinking down the bed, making himself comfortable between your thighs. you crack an eye open to see him looking up at you, almost pleading, “ think you can give me one more? pleaseeeee. he’s gonna hog you when he gets here! ”

you can’t do much else but nod, accepting your fate. it was what you wanted, after all.

#ffg kinktober #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #meguru bachira x reader

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zara-renata · 2 months ago

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Sylus gets a headache | ao3 | other fics in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, no use of y/n. This story contains: fluff, banter, Sylus has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, legal arguments, bad puns, self-indulgent writing, repetitive finger caressing, insomnia that Sylus is determined to vanquish by any means, Xavier is an innocent victim in all this and has no idea, except has Xavier ever been innocent in his entire life? CWs: insomnia, consumption of alcohol, profanity SFW, mostly. With some filthy innuendos at the end. It's Sylus, after all.

It has been a few days since you had the best night’s rest you can remember on the back of a certain miscreant crime lord’s motorcycle, and you’re once again preparing for a long, torturous night of staring at the ceiling and trying to catalogue all the classes of wanderers in an attempt to lull yourself to sleep—Nero’s suggestion. You have your doubts about whether it will work, but he gave the advice so earnestly after overhearing you talking to Tara about your insomnia that you feel obligated to give it a go. Sylus would probably scoff and say something about ‘people pleasing,’—you shake your head. That man does not get to live rent free in your brain, no matter how suspiciously kind he was the last time you saw him.

The kettle squeals, and you pour the boiling water into your chipped “World’s Greatest Hunter” mug that Caleb had gifted you once you were admitted into the Association’s ranks. The hot liquid steams soothingly into your face as it drowns a chamomile teabag, and you try not to think about the last time you saw him, when he was smiling. Patting your head. Whole, and so, so vibrantly alive. You take a deep, shaky breath.

After a suggestion from Tara, you add some honey and then slice a lime and squeeze the juice into the tea, absently stirring the spoon and gazing out your balcony window. You’re home early for once, and the sun is only just setting. You can’t see it through the high rises around you, but dusk filters down into the streets below your flat. The gentle sounds of the city moving into late evening drift up, the traffic like waves crashing on the shore, laughter and shop bells tinkling, a dog barking somewhere.

Suddenly, your doorbell chimes through your apartment and startles you out of your reverie. Did you forget that you had ordered something to be delivered today?

Without thinking too hard about it, you take your still piping-hot tea and pad to the foyer to answer the door.

Only to have your sense of calm shattered as you fling the mug out of sheer, instinctual self-preservation that Zayne accuses you of not having, when you see who is standing on the other side.

Quicker than your brain can actually process Sylus’s presence outside your flat, scarlet-night tendrils have prevented the mug from shattering on the floor, but have failed to stop the liquid from continuing its projectile path right onto his red, standing collar shirt and black vest.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

“You really, and I mean really, need to work on your greetings, kitten,” he tells you calmly, evol delivering the mug into his waiting hand while he holds the suitcase he has in the other hand away from his body to avoid being dripped on by his now soaked torso.

“Sorry, you were the last person I was expecting.” You wince, heart still threatening to beat its way out of your rib cage.

“Oh, expecting someone, are we?” he lifts a dark silver eyebrow.

“No, but least of all… you.” You flap your hand in his general direction. “What are you even doing here?”

“How about,” he drawls, “you let me in, and I’ll tell you. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get curious and come to inquire about the mess I’m making on your doorstep, would you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to think of a way out of having him in your space, again, but you’re tired at the end of another long day, another long week, another long month and this whole entire fucking year. Trying to get rid of him will take more energy than just letting him do what he wants so that he’ll go away again. You run a hand down your face and shuffle aside.

He enters, and the scent of him fills the small foyer, warm and mouth-watering. He sets the briefcase and mug on the floor, removes his dress shoes and places them neatly by your own hastily-kicked-off boots next to the step leading into the rest of your flat. He then picks the mug back up and reads what’s written on it.

“World’s best hunter, indeed.” He snorts softly, eyes flicking from your face to your thin tank top and sleep shorts covered in grinning little bounce, bounce planet blobbus, to your bare feet. “Is this how the world’s greatest hunter always answers the door to unknown visitors?”

“It was a gift,” you say defensively, snatching the mug from him and cradling it to your chest. “And the only people who would be at my door this late is Xavier borrowing a cup of sugar for some doomed baking experiment, or a delivery person. I’m sure they’ve seen much worse than this,” you sweep your hand down your body in a dismissive flourish.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve seen much worse.” Sylus frowns slightly.

“Yeah, so if they don’t like it, they’re welcome to move on to their next delivery.”

“Or buy their own sugar,” Sylus murmurs, reaching out to run a finger along your knuckles as you clutch the mug. “And who gave you this highly accurate mug?”

You hesitate, knowing that his face is going to do something complicated, like it always does, when you mention your family. But fuck it, he asked. If he doesn’t like the answer, he can also move on to whatever his next nefarious errand is. “Someone who was like a brother to me.”

“Brother, huh,” he says softly, still gently stroking your skin. “Well, he wasn’t wrong in this.” His hand falls back to his side. “Invite me all the way in, kitten. With your words,” he commands.

“And why should I do that? The deal was to let you come in. You’re in now. You don’t need to come in any further. Now it’s your turn to honor the deal. Why are you here?” You glare up at him, your foyer feeling minuscule with his big body and presence filling it.

“You offered me your place if I ever needed it,” Sylus narrows his glittering eyes. “I needed it today before you flung steaming liquid all over my clothes. And now I need it even more.” He looks pointedly down at the still-dripping clothes in question.

“What did you originally need it for?” You stall, the guilt of throwing a mug full—half! Half full! of tea at him starting to creep in.

“How about you invite me all the way into your home, with your words, help me take care of this mess you caused,” he waves a lazy finger at his torso, “and I’ll tell you.”

“But you already promised to tell me why you’re here in exchange for the initial value of me letting you in, and I let you in. I already paid. You can’t make me pay twice for the same goods,” you protest.

“Remind me to take you with me the next time I have contract negotiations. You’re more useful than my own legal counsel.” He pauses, considering you. “Circumstances have changed. Force majeure prevents me from fulfilling my original promise without requiring additional time and means to fulfil that promise. You owe me the opportunity to successfully deliver what I owe you.”

“What, exactly, is preventing you from telling me why you originally came to my home right here in my entryway?”

“The consequences of an unforeseeable natural disaster,” he answers with a little helpless shrug. “Namely, the trauma of nearly getting drowned in tea following almost being taken out by a mug launched with your god-like strength. Kitten, your assault is the equivalent of an act of god, and I can’t be responsible for the fact that I now need a dry shirt and a safe place to recover from the shock of almost being murdered by your tableware.”

You can’t help it. It has been so long since you’ve actually laughed out loud, so the noise that comes out of you doesn’t even sound human. You’re laughing, and you can’t stop. The affronted look on Sylus’s face in response to your ugly-snorts, causes you to laugh even more, and you’re suddenly bending over, holding your knees, laughing like you might die if you stop.

After a long moment, when you are finally able to breathe again, you straighten and find Sylus looking at you with a soft expression, one corner of his wide mouth slightly lifted… which is alarming. But you’re too filled with gratitude for the relief of laughing that his absurd exaggeration just gave you, so you refuse to think about anything at all too hard right now. You give in.

“Sylus, would you do me the honor of coming into my home? You can tell me what the hell you’re doing here after I find you a dry shirt.” You sarcastically bow as low as you can, your arms uplifted to gesture him forward.

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a graciously extended offer,” he says, as if resigned to a terrible fate, but his smile is smug and he wastes no time striding into your living room while unbuttoning his vest. He gently lays it over the back of your couch, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You force yourself to stop staring as the pale skin slowly being revealed with each flick of his long fingers and head to your bedroom.

You paw through your chest of drawers, trying to find a shirt that will fit his broad shoulders and chest, but all you manage to do is make even more of a mess in your barely organized drawers. You stand, remembering the hoodie Xavier leant you after a recent, particularly messy battle on a chilly night. You move to your closet where you had hung it carefully to remind yourself to give it back to him after having washed it. You pull it from the hanger, turn around, and squeal loud enough to shatter glass.

Sylus is standing right behind you, chest bare, black slacks hung low around his narrow hips, and you did not heard him come in.

“I thought we were past the terror stage of our friendship, sweetheart,” he says, cocking his head, the same ruby stud earrings he was wearing at the club flashing in the light. “But that’s twice today that I’ve frightened you to the point of violence. Am I really that scary?”

“You keep… appearing, out of nowhere. A little warning would be appreciated,” you huff, heart pounding. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around him. Really. It has nothing to do with the broad expanse of creamy skin and pillowy man-tits shoved in your face at the moment. “And honestly, considering the fact that our friendship started with you choking me out and keeping me captive for days, it’s a wonder that I’m not more scared of you,” you flare, because yeah, how dare he act like you should be over the absolute shit-show of your first encounter, when you’ve hardly had any time to get to know him. That’s why you’re nervous. There is no other possible explanation. A couple friendly interactions do not make up for how much of an evil bastard he was when you first met him.

“Would you like me to wear a bell when I’m here, then?” he asks, conveniently ignoring the reminder regarding how he treated you not so long ago.

“How about you just stay out of my bedroom and stay where I can see you at other times,” you snap, feeling violent again at the intrusive thought of Sylus wearing a collar around his thick neck, cute little bell dinging every time he moved.

“I’ll do my best,” he says absently, clearly distracted by his thorough inventory of your bedroom as he takes in the tumbling plants in mismatched pots on floating shelves hanging over the unmade bed, the army of plushies scattered over the bunched up mountain of duvet and pillows. Your bed used to be your sanctuary. The place where you could find rest and relaxation after exhausting battles and long days squinting at the computer filing incident reports. Now it just gives you anxiety. You try to pull his attention away from the chaos of your former safe space by holding Xavier’s hoodie out for Sylus to take.

“Here, this might fit you.”

Sylus looks down at your offering, crosses his arms, and takes a step back, as if the hoodie is so offensive that it warrants recoiling physically from it. “That’s quite a big hoodie for you, even for days when you want to be comfortable,” he says evenly.

“It’s not mine, but it’s clean, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I have right now that will fit you,” you say, shaking it a little in the universal, impatient gesture of just take it already for fuck’s sake.

“And who is its actual owner?”

“Xavier.”

“In the habit of wearing your partner’s clothing, are we?” he asks, still staring at it, the disdain now plain in his assessment of the sweatshirt.

“Uh, sometimes? We were on a mission recently and my jacket got torn to the point of uselessness, and it was cold. He let me wear his hoodie so I wouldn't be cold. It's been washed since then, so it's clean. I’ll just wash it again when you’re done using it before I return it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

After what seems like a ridiculous amount of time for him to apparently make some mental calculations that only he will ever understand, he finally takes the soft hoodie from you, fingertips brushing yours as he grasps the fabric. You can’t figure out why he he suddenly looks more smugly evil than you’ve ever seen, with his lips curved up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, of course, I’m sure he will not mind at all.” He pulls the hoodie over his head and shimmies a little as he drags it down is body; it’s a little tight around the shoulders, but you don’t think it’s tight enough to permanently stretch the fabric.

After it’s on, he tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as if you can’t see perfectly well what he is doing.

“It smells like you,” he answers, shameless, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer to your question.

“Well, I did wear it, and wash it with my normal detergent and it has been hanging in my closet for a while, so…” your voice trails off.

“And soon it will smell like me too,” he continues, letting the collar fall with a satisfied flick of his fingers.

What even is this conversation? “Can you just be normal? For once?" A look of boredom is all the response you get, so you continue. "Now get out of my bedroom. Come tell me why you’re here in the first place.” You stride past him, making your way into the living room.

He follows you obediently and plops down on the couch, and just like last time, spreads his legs wide. This time, he is able to rest his arms on either side along the back of the couch, effectively occupying the whole damn thing. He sits quietly, looking at you expectantly.

You stand, arms folded, a safe distance away from the couch near the kitchen island.

“Well?” You prompt.

“It’s customary to offer your guest a refreshing beverage upon receiving them in your home. I believe I offered you wine the first time I hosted you in my own home.”

“Hosted?” He can’t be serious. “What a generous euphemism for ‘unlawfully imprisoned,’” you bite out.

“Po-tae-to,” he says serenely, “Po-tah-to.”

“Sylus,” you warn—about what, you’re not sure. He wants a beverage? Okay, perhaps you’ll fling more hot tea at him if he doesn’t start talking.

“Kitten.” He continues gazing at you, clearly in no hurry to move things along.

“If you don’t tell me, right now, why the hell you showed up at my place unannounced, I will report you as a burglar and have you removed by the authorities.”

“But then how will you explain to Xavier why I’ve been arrested wearing his sweater?” he asks, eyes wide, all concern for what your partner’s thoughts on the matter would be, and what they would mean for you.

“Burglars have been known to be creeps and go rooting through their victims’ closets and wearing their clothes! I’ll just say you were wearing it when I got here. Maybe he’ll be worried that it’s him you’re actually interested in harassing,” you snicker, trying to picture Xavier’s reaction.

As you’re speaking, Sylus pulls out his phone and fiddles with it with a bored expression on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Perhaps you should go find something more interesting to do and leave me in peace,” you grind out after you’ve finished and notice his complete lack of attention.

Your irritation is interrupted by a notification on your phone. Since Sylus is so busy messing with his, you grab yours from where it has been lying on the counter since before Sylus interrupted your peaceful evening staring out into the city. You see that you have a new message from… the man currently oozing across the entirety of your couch, head lolled to the side and watching you with a hint of amusement curving his mouth.

You open the chat, and your eyes widen at the conversation that never fucking happened currently loading into your chat history, with time stamps corresponding to when Sylus showed up at your door.

You: Oh Sylus, my big, handsome partner in crime, I think there’s an intruder in my flat and I’m so scared!

The Sytuation: What makes you think theres an intruder in your home, kitten? Im on my way.

You: There is sugar missing from my pantry! I just bought a new bag yesterday, and it’s gone! Oh please, my dark knight, come protect me from the sugar thief who should buy his own sugar and stop coming to my place to pilfer mine!

The Sytuation: Of course, sweetie. Go wait by the door, Ill be there in 5.

“What. Is. This. Fuckery,” you demand, thrusting your phone in his face.

He shrugs. “You threatened to lie about why I’m here in a bid to get rid of me. Did you not expect me to counter your move to ensure that no one will believe you?” he pauses, and then narrows his eyes. "Did you really save me in your phone as 'The Situation,' with a Y?"

"Punny, right? My phone doubles as my work phone. You really think I'm going to save your real name in my contacts? I might as well just save you as 'Sylus Qin, leader of Onychinus, most wanted criminal in the N109 zone," you grumble. "And trust me, that's the nicest name I could come up with."

"Punny," he repeats derisively, unimpressed.

“And don't derail. What is this nonsense about a sugar thief?” You wave the phone again.

“Your colleague should learn to stock his own pantry if he wants to engage in… what did you call them? Doomed baking experiments?”

“How did you even… why does it look so real?” You gaze down at the texts that look so authentic that if they hadn’t been filled with such bullshit, you’d be doubting your own sanity about whether the conversation had really happened.

“You’re really surprised that faking evidence, alibis and dirt on my opponents is a part of my vast skill set? I’m hurt that you underestimate me so.” He looks at you like he’s disappointed, a little pout pulling down his stupid beautiful mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re done. The longer you resist, the longer Sylus will be in your flat, driving you up the wall. “Fine. Fine!” You set your phone down again and throw up your hands. “What do you want to drink, Sylus?”

“Two fingers of gin, if you have it. Or brandy. Or vodka.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m not feeling too picky tonight.”

“I don’t keep hard liquor in my house, you alcoholic. I have a half-open bottle of rosé in the fridge. Will that satisfy his lordship?” You turn resignedly to trod your way to your fridge.

“What vineyard and vintage?” he asks, perking up.

You open the fridge and pull out the bottle. You squint at the label. “I dunno. It has a cute fish on the label, so I bought it.”

He looks at you like you just murdered Mephisto, and you begin pouring the pink liquid into another mug. This one says UNT on the side in big block letters, matching the size of the handle so that when you hold it, the handle looks like a matching C. You walk back to where he’s sitting, and you think that maybe your smile looks as smug as Sylus’s usually does when you hand him his drink.

He takes the mug from you, snorts when he reads the side, and then look at its contents dubiously for a moment.

“You taste it first,” he finally says, looking back up at you.

“Worried I poisoned it?” You’re still grinning.

“As you say,” he says, tilting his head.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t demand beverages from people you don’t trust then.”

“I trust you, just not your taste in wine after learning you choose bottles based on the cuteness of the label. Indulge me,” he murmurs. “Prove to me that you’re willing to drink it, and that it’s not just swill you’re trying to get rid of by offering it to me.”

You take the mug from him and lift it to your lips, taking a sip, watching him over the rim as you swallow. His nostrils flair, and he lifts his hand in a gesture for you to return it to him. Instead of giving it back, you take one more big gulp, and his brow furrows. Only after you've slowly swallowed again do you comply, relishing the warmth spreading through your body as you lower the mug for him to take. He brushes your fingers again as he takes it back. He turns the mug, so that his mouth hovers where yours just was. He then closes his eyes and inhales, gently swirling the liquid inside. Eyes still closed, he takes a sip.

After a moment, he sighs. “Thank you. This is actually not bad, for a rosé.”

“You’re such a snob,” you smile down at him, irrationally pleased that he seems so pleased.

“Life is too difficult, and too short, to waste on inferior experiences. I only like tasting the best,” he says, bright red eyes opening and fixing on you.

He looks up at you like you should be able to draw some deeper meaning from his words, but you’re tired, warm from the wine, and despite how much he winds you up you were just moments ago, right now you’re strangely relaxed for the first time in days.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sylus,” you say quietly.

“You told me I could use your place when I needed it,” he says, just as softly. He takes another drink, rolls it around in his mouth. Swallows, his adam’s apple dipping.

“And why did you need it this evening?”

“I had some negotiations regarding a business acquisition that I’m considering in this part of Linkon City, and they were abhorrently boring. By the time they were over, I had a splitting headache, and the sunlight didn’t help. It would have been unsafe to operate a motor vehicle under those conditions, so I thought I’d come and wait for it to pass in my newest ‘safe house,’ he answers gravely, as if getting a headache was a perfectly logical reason to crash your evening and take over your couch. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the innocent citizens of Linkon City with reckless driving, now would we?”

“Aren’t all of your shady business deals done under the cover of darkness? Why were you here at a meeting during the day?”

He’s holding the mug in one hand by his fingertips now, along the rim, slowly swirling it. He crosses one long leg over the other and answers languidly. “You’re assuming that today’s business was ‘shady.’”

“So your business today was legitimate?” You’ve been standing for awhile now, and begin to shift from bare foot to bare foot.

He hums in acknowledgement. “My business interests are as varied as they are successful. You insult me by looking so surprised.”

“Well I would never want to insult you,” you drawl. “So that’s it? You got a headache and decided you’d crash my evening?”

He nods, touching his temple and grimacing. “It’s still pretty bad, to be honest.”

“The daylight bothers you that much?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have always assumed that it was the nature of his occupation and perhaps just a proclivity for being a night owl that explained his nocturnal existence, but now you’re wondering if it’s not something deeper that has him avoiding it as much as possible.

You finally decide to give your tired feet a break and perch on the little corner of couch cushion that has been freed for use by Sylus crossing his legs. “If sunlight bothers you that much, what could possibly be so important to come out in it today?”

“Are you really asking about the details of my business ventures, sweetheart?” he asks in what you suspect is feigned astonishment.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he responds easily.

“Then I am.”

“I’m in discussions for acquiring a chain of entertainment venues in Linkon City.” He leans his head on the couch’s backrest and lets it roll to the side to keep looking at you. He catches the look of disgust that is no doubt obvious on your face.

“Entertainment venues,” you say flatly.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“What kind of … entertainment venues?” you ask, hating yourself for wanting to know. It’s his business if he wants to buy porn shops, or strip clubs, or brothels—your stomach twists, and you refuse to consider why.

“What kind of ideas are racing through that fascinating brain of yours?” he asks, reaching up and running two of his fingers along your temple, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing,” you bite out, turning your face away from his touch. You normally dislike how you have a hard time concealing how you’re feeling, but you particularly hate it right now.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “Then, to answer your question, it’s a chain of arcades.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. Did he just say—

“Arcades?”

He nods, and winces, closing his eyes. You’re starting to believe that his head is actually hurting him, and you feel bad for throwing dishware and hot tea at him and refusing to offer him more than the one drink he asked for.

“Why would you be interested in acquiring an arcade chain?”

“Even for odious crime lords, it’s always wise to have a diversified business portfolio.”

You have called him a lot of things both out loud and in your head, but you’d never call him odious. Odorous, perhaps, when he’s sweating heavily after being riddled with bullets. But you have to suppress the urge to chastise him about talking about himself that way.

“Which chain is it?”

“You probably don’t know it,” he says, as if bored with the question. “It’s not a very large chain, but large enough for my interests.”

“Try me! I love going to the arcade when I have some free time. I mean, you’ve seen my plushie collection now that you invited yourself into my house,” you bounce a little on the couch.

“You invited me, kitten. You’ve had a choice, each and every time.”

“Don’t deflect! Answer the question!” You’re quite excited about this. Maybe if it’s a place you know, that has a location nearby, he’ll give you a discount if he ends up buying them? Like an employee discount or something. Is that ethical? You should check the Association’s employee handbook for conflicts of interest.

He squints, as if preparing to evaluate your reaction, and names your favorite place to play the claw machine.

“For real? You’re really going to buy them?”

“I still have to review the contract that was proposed during today’s discussions with my legal counsel, but if negotiations are successful, then yes,” he says, casually examining his nails.

Your excitement is hard to contain, but you suddenly have a troubling thought. “You’re not going to change anything, right? Like, that place is perfect as it is, and the employees are all really friendly and helpful and clearly work hard to keep it really nice,” you rush out, worried that he’s planning to reduce the staff or try to jack up the prices for a larger profit margin.

He turns to look at you again, and doesn’t answer for long enough that you’re really starting to worry. But then he says softly, “No, I’m not going to change a thing.”

“Oh? So they’re doing well? It’s a solid financial investment?” You’re so relieved, safe in the knowledge that your plushies will continue to be accessible, insofar as claw machines by design allow them to be.

Sylus laughs softly. “Yes, the financials all look good. Considering your interest in the nature of binding agreements, would you like to look over the purchase agreement with me? I have it with me.”

“I’d actually really like to, but I’m starting to get really tired,” you yawn, the relief you were just feeling—the relief of knowing that Sylus wasn’t up to anything that would leave a blood trail today, relief that he didn’t come tonight to try to force you to resonate or finally kill you for refusing to do so, and most importantly, relief that he wasn’t going to acquire and ruin one of the little pleasures in your life—all of it is now drowned out by a heavy feeling of pleasant drowsiness.

“Then I’ll read it to you, until you fall asleep.”

“Huh? You want to stay?”

“Yes,” he says, hauling himself to his feet and offering you his hand. You take it in confusion, and he lifts you to your feet as well. He sets the now empty mug on your coffee table, and then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you from behind to your bedroom.

“Why?” you ask, not even thinking to object.

“Headache, remember?” He pushes you gently by your shoulders so that you’re sitting on your bed.

“How can you review legalese when you’re suffering from a headache?” You sink into the softness of the mattress.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he says, nudging you until you’ve scooted to the middle of the bed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get my tablet out of my briefcase.” He disappears through the doorway, and you’re left sitting on your bed, surrounded by all of your plushies, and you have no idea what’s happening. You’re just too tired to argue with him. You really did miscalculate by spending all of your energy trying to get rid of him when he first arrived.

But just because you’re bone-tired, doesn’t mean you’re going to let him boss you around. You get off the bed and pad into the kitchen, passing him as he snaps his briefcase shut, tablet in hand.

“I distinctly recall telling you not to move,” he gripes, pushing up an elegant set of gold framed glasses perched on the uneven bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Huh, you didn’t know he needed glasses to read. He looks almost … cute wearing them, a little less feral. Like a leopard wearing a monocle.

Suppressing the thought of Sylus and cute in the same sentence, you ignore him, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. Then you rummage through your most chaotic kitchen drawer for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out what you were looking for.

You pad back over to where he’s still watching you, and offer him the glass and the half-used blister pack of over-the-counter painkillers you fished out of your chaos drawer. “Here.”

He looks down at your hands, offering him what you hope is some relief from his headache. His face is impassive, and you’re worried he assumes you’re trying to poison him again. But then he tucks the tablet under one arm, and reaches out with both hands to grasp the glass and the pill pack—except he doesn’t take them from your hands. He envelops yours with his, and pulls you gently closer to him. He somehow manages to pop two tablets out of the pack with his thumb, and they drop into your curved palm. Still holding your hand, he leans down to sweep them from your skin with his tongue. In a complete daze, you watch him lift the glass that you’re still holding to his lips, and he takes a long pull of water, washing the pills down, all the while holding your gaze with his. When he’s done, he slowly lowers your hands again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs “For the benevolence of your heart.” He says it gravely, as if you’ve just saved his life instead of giving him some headache medicine.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, feeling like you’ve been struck by a truck after… whatever that was, feeling the warmth of his tongue in the palm of your hand like he was still licking it. Sylus then turns and heads back to your bedroom.

You set the glass and the now-empty pill pack on the kitchen island, thinking you’ll clean up tomorrow if you manage to sleep tonight, and follow him.

In the bedroom, Sylus sits, leaning back against your headboard, having needed to gently scoop some plushies out of the way to make room. He stretches his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He looks so soft, wrapped in the white hoodie, silver hair rumpled, surrounded by pillows and cute little plushies.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to remember that the man currently sinking into your duvet and wiggling his sock-covered toes in contentment is the same man who straight up exploded the man who dared kidnap you, and then proceeded to kidnap you himself after choking you to the point of passing out. You try to hold both of these truths about him in your mind at the same time, but the image of Sylus dancing you gently through a press of bodies, of the way he caresses your fingers at every opportunity, the soft slide of his tongue along your palm—these images are conquering every other version of him that you know to be true in your mind. You wonder briefly if this is part of some larger scheme of his, and what his endgame could possibly be. But right now, you’re too fucking tired to care.

“What is even happening,” you ask. You’re exhausted, but you still have enough mental reserves to question how you got here, in this situation, with this man migrating from vanquishing your couch to a large part of your bed. “Is the coffee table, or kitchen table insufficient for your needs? Why are you going to review the paperwork here, on my bed?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how quickly you fell asleep on my back on the motorcycle the other night, sweetheart. I’m just reading you a bedtime story featuring limitations of liability and allocation of risk so that you can finally get some sleep again.” He pats his thigh. “Here.”

You just stare at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, tapping his thigh again with one long finger. Just for that, you glare mutinously at him and fold your arms over your chest.

He sighs again, this time in exasperation, and leans over, firmly lifting you and setting you down so that your head is pillowed against his meaty thigh. He begins to run his fingertips gently up and down the middle of your back. He returns his attention to his tablet. “Now listen carefully,” he commands, before flicking the screen with his thumb and beginning to read in his softly in his deep, rich voice.

But of course you don't. You fall asleep as the skyscrapers light up like a dragon's hoard of jewels in the night sky outside your window, to the sounds of Sylus’s quiet recitation of indeed, a terribly boring contract, and the whisper of his fingers along your skin.

When you wake up, there is another black feather on your pillow, and you are alone. You yawn, once again feeling unbelievably rested despite the chaos Sylus always brings to your door and into your life. You stretch leisurely, spreading your arms wide and turning your head on the pillow, when something catches in your earlobe. You reach up and run your fingers along a stud earring that was not there when you fell asleep. You feel your other earlobe, but it's empty. You grab your phone from the nightstand, knocking over a semiautomatic hand pistol with scarlet flames engraved along the grip that you also don't remember owning onto the floor. You stare at it briefly, ready to commit murder if you check it and find that the safety isn't on. But first things first: you put the phone camera in selfie mode and lift it to your face, but quickly lower it again after confirming that it is indeed a ruby stud in your ear, sparkling cheekily in the morning sunlight.

Later, you're relieved to find that Sylus did actually leave the safety on on your new little ... toy, and you'll find that the mugs have been washed and set neatly away, the empty pack of painkillers placed in the recycling bin. You also see that various takeout containers and other debris that had piled up on a lot of surfaces in your place are also gone, and the countertops are clean, the coffee and kitchen table gleam in the early morning sunlight. You don't notice that the white hoodie is nowhere to be found, until you meet up with Xavier later in the day. He's wearing one that looks exactly like it.

"Thanks for returning the hoodie," he yawns. "But you really didn't have to."

You pause, feeling a thread of panic start to wind its way through your stomach. You decide to just... go with it. "Oh? You found it okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you just leave it hanging from my door handle? You could have rung and come in. I had a new limited edition bag of those cookies you were looking at in the corner store last week. I would have shared some with you... but now I've eaten them all," he admits sheepishly, big blue eyes shimmering with guilt.

You try to think fast. Did Sylus give back the hoodie without washing it? What the fuck was he thinking? He could have been seen! Does this flat have surveillance footage? Does Xavier suspect anything? You realize that you still haven't answered Xavier's question as your panic spirals. "Oh, you know, didn't want to wake you up," you flap your hands, as if you can flap this entire situation right out of your messy life.

"Well, I don't know what you did to it, but it feels brand new. As if it's never even been washed. And you somehow got out the bbq sauce stain that no matter how much I sprayed it with that stain remover stuff would never come out. So you're going to have to teach me some of that laundry magic," he says contentedly, snuggling further into the entirely new hoodie that you now realize Sylus must have somehow, over the course of the night, had hand-delivered to Xavier's place. "Uh huh," you say absently, pulling out your phone to furiously text Mr. Asshat when you see that he has also changed his name in your contact list.

You: What the hell did you do with Xavier's hoodie?"

My Sy: It doesnt matter who it belonged to before me. All that matters is that its mine now.

You: It doesn't even fit you properly! You're too big for it!

My Sy: Nothing a little size training cant fix.

Your jaw drops. He cannot be implying what you think he's implying. This is your filthy mind at work. You decide that you will simply pretend this conversation never happened. Absolutely nothing good can come from trying to figure out what the fuck is going through Sylus's head at any given moment.

You: And 'My Sy?' Really?

My Sy: Its not punny, but it rhymes. And its accurate. Gotta put the phone down for a bit, kitten. Business requires my attention. Ill be seeing you soon.

You stare at his last message for long enough that Xavier asks if you're okay. You're not. You're not okay. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask him about the other earring, or the gun. You just slowly slip your phone back into your cargo pants pocket and try very hard to stop thinking, for the rest of the day.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #love and deepspace fanfiction #my fanfic #did i spend time in glint just to make a photo of sylus touching his temple for this post #to go with today's theme #yes your honor #i hope someone finds this enjoyable #i'm having fun writing and fixating on this king

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lucyandthepen · 1 year ago

Text

sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )

something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

alternatively: mark is shy until he isn’t.

read the second part here!

pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it?? word count: 26.4k

a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but… what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear it’s quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not beta’d/proofread, it’s currently almost 1am, and i’ve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; i’ll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and …most importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!

p.s. this will probably be flagged as ‘mature’ by tumblr, which means there’s a high likelihood it won’t appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!

You’ve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties.

The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. You’re not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people — see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu — are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know you’ve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert.

The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment — lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind — you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; you’ll drink it as it’s served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling).

Of course, you’re strict about other things in the experience of consumption — like where it’s served and, more importantly, who serves it to you.

While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts building’s on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO — ‘passable on emergencies only’ — branding the menu as “nothing revolutionary” and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that it’s walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so you’re never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease.

A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.

What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize — an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although you’re not sure how much of this assumption is true. You’ll just believe it as you feel it.

And what you’ve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadn’t been eavesdropping; they’d just been pretty loud, but you’d also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call “Hyuck” — you aren’t sure if it’s his full name or a nickname, and you don’t particularly care — had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friend’s younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine.

You don’t really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuck’s voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe you’re just ignoring what could be truth, but that’s whatever.

Second, you’ve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type — at least, in theory.

Saying you’re out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, you’d say so under duress. It isn’t so much that he’s beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it ‘vibe networking,’ which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship — whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you don’t particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you.

Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems — that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world that’s rather unknown to you. More than once, you’ve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon you’ve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters — two things you know next to nothing about. You’ve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, you’ve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM.

In conclusion — you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect.

And yet, you want him — not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, you’ve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing you’ve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe it’s his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someone’s frappuccino. Maybe it’s his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like he’s harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe it’s his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you they’ve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe it’s just his mind — that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.

Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts building’s Starbucks has you as a regular customer.

You’re fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.

Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, you’re something of a traditionalist.

Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you — how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say ‘hey’ to him once you’re about to order? You’d like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that — something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront.

You’d like to think you’ve given him clear signs. There’s a reason you always come in during his shift times, and it’s the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t puzzle out, given how often you’re in that Starbucks, anyway). It’s that you want him to remember you.

Selfishly, it’s that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day.

But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, he’s never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.

Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, you’ll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.

All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think — and hope — it will.

The thing is, you’re not even that bad at math. You’ve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re in dire need of help from anyone — the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.

However, Mark Lee doesn’t know that, and you’re not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that he’s leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. He’s twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and you’re briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.

His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.

“Hey — hi, _________.” He knows your name, says it easily, and while you’d like to believe it’s because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that it’s just because you’re always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. “Can I get you the usual?”

There’s no particular reason you order what you do; maybe it’s just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.

“Hey, Mark.” You’ve long since given up pretending that you don’t know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You don’t know. It’s the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). You’ve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. “That, plus a lemon loaf, if you don’t mind. What’ve you got there?”

His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. “Oh — no, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Is it secret?” Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adam’s apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we kept stuff from each other.”

You don’t know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you don’t do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.

“We — uh, well, it’s just a worksheet. For Park Hyosung’s class. College algebra?”

“I’m in Kim Junghwa’s. Can I have a look? I want to know if you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if there’s any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwriting’s a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also don’t see anything that interests you — except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writing’s too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Something wrong?”

“Pretty much the opposite. How is it that you’re doing this without breaking a sweat?”

“Oh, well — it’s not…” He doesn’t even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. “I mean, anyone… can?”

“I must not be anyone then.” You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. “Either you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or I’m really not going to make it through this semester.”

Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second — short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s — before Mark’s chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.

“You’re kidding. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

“Mark, look at this face.” You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. “Does this look like the face of someone that’s doing just fine?”

You’re pleased to hear another laugh from him; you don’t know if he really finds you funny or if he’s just the type to be easily amused. You don’t want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.

“That bad, huh?” He slides the worksheet away again, like he’s afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. “Ever think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like you’re drowning, that is.”

“A tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?”

The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. “Sorry — am I free—?”

“You said I should get a tutor, right?”

“I thought — no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.”

“Oh. Are you not one of them?” You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesn’t really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. “That’s a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, I’d get an actual genius. You know — someone like you?”

You can tell by Mark’s expression that he’s torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.

“Sorry, but— you know that there’s a line, right?”

You both apologize, Mark’s much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You don’t really mind; as far as you’re concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.

You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. There’s a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he’s trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cup’s cylinder.

He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality — not by a long shot.

Mark finishes your drink first; the milk’s still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesn’t even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye — albeit slightly nervously — instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesn’t, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.

“You really won’t help me?”

Your question’s abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. You’re not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t really say anything,” you tease. The cup’s on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. “What time does your shift end?”

“Five-thirty. You sure you wouldn’t want someone better?”

You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before he’s withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.

“There’s no one better than you.”

Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him aren’t even furtive; they’re deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.

He doesn’t hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when he’s talking to customers, but it’s not like you’re ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. He’s curious as to why you’re asking for help, now, of all times, when the semester’s more than halfway over. He’s surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just can’t conceive of a world that isn’t within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. He’s flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. He’s equal parts anxious and eager to know what’s meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.

Most of all, he’s unsure if he’s reading you right — if what it feels like you’re doing is something he’s attaching too deep a meaning to. If he’s right in reading your signs.

You don’t really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that he’s looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time you’ve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that he’s been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.

In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but that’s only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucks’ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day — you know it well enough, and you don’t even have to, considering you don’t work here — and you can’t do anything but hold back your laughter.

A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that it’s no fun if he doesn’t ascertain it for himself.

He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. There’s a steely resolution on his face, like he’s been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to eat you.”

“I’m still not sure why you’re suddenly asking me to help you,” he admits. He’s also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think you even had an opinion of me.”

“Why’s that?” You’re genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful — less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. It’s clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if you’ve always been the best of friends.

“Genuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,” he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you — a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.

“Well — let me put it this way.” You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. “Was I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?”

There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and you’d only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadn’t previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes — or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.

You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin that’s slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables — didn’t… not … stranger — pretty … you?

“Sorry?” You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again — something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing — is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. “I didn’t catch that.”

Mark clears his throat. “No, I… didn’t think of you that way. I mean… you’re my classmate.”

“Sure,” your tone’s breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. “And we’re basically friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice is unsure at first, like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Mark’s notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, you’d spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Right. Friends help friends, don’t they? I’d definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I don’t know.”

You see Mark’s lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didn’t care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself — friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.

“Makes sense. Well — for as long as you don’t mind me, then.”

“Mind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.”

“I’d never mind — I mean, of course I don’t mind.” He’s quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. “More than happy to help, actually.”

“And I’m more than happy to be here.” You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You don’t know what it is about the look on his face — the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe — but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. “Since we’re on the same page, I hope — should we get to it?”

From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you haven’t seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities — his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professor’s words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way you’ve come to meet so often.

Right now, he’s a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. He’s quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; there’s already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, “Ah, sorry, actually —” to the way his finger traces over what you’ve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully — not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he can’t imagine why you’d map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous you’re acting, but he can’t tell if you’re seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. He’s patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your ‘mistakes,’ like he’s still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.

But there’s also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when you’re borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what he’s drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. It’s in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions — like he’s wondering if you’re just oblivious or if you’re doing something on purpose that he can’t quite believe. Like he wants to ask you what’s on your mind, but he just doesn’t know how.

If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what he’s doing — the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something you’ve just asked about. There’s always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.

By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt — always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar — your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Mark’s. Still, you don’t miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.

“I feel like I talked your ear off,” he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop once you’ve gotten started. I’m just hoping I didn’t bore you to death.”

“Meanwhile, I’m here hoping you aren’t sick of my questions already.” You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Mark’s breathing falls quiet, like he’d been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been — on and off — since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.

The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while there’s nothing outrageous about it, there’s a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like he’s trying to find a solution to something he can’t fully understand. You’re not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if there’s something he’s just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.

It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter — poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadn’t caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.

“Anyway.” You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You don’t want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isn’t half-empty at this point. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“Any time.” His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. “Any time, really. I’m glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, I’m sure.”

He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how that’s not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.

The next five minutes pass in silence; you don’t expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you aren’t actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. There’s an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.

His jaw falls open like he’s preparing to say something, then shuts as if he’s better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what you’re assuming he wants to. “Same time, same table?”

“Oh — uh, yeah, for sure.”

You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means you’ll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since he’s fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.

But it just isn’t the right time.

Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat — yet another hard swallow — isn’t lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.

You don’t look back — at least, not until you’re fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like he’s dissociating from what just happened — like he can’t believe the last couple of hours.

Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.

Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’ve already got one foot in the door, after all.

As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; there’s a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesn’t ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if you’ve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles — from the side when he’s frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when he’s clearing tables — interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the school’s co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.

Sometimes, you catch Mark’s eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like you’ve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, he’d even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him — not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.

That he’s able to transport them easily, as if he’s lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.

What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isn’t fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that he’s from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isn’t limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with director’s cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasn’t completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. He’d promised to show you his pulls (as long as they weren’t embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist that’s just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like he’s going against the grain. You don’t really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grande’s Problem that he let you listen to once.

Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips aren’t particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when he’s thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly… at the start of every other sentence, as if he’s concerned you won’t take his word on anything, even though he’s just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that you’re equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats you’re not even sure he knows he’s creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because you’d do anything to keep seeing him smile like that — or, better yet, to be the reason for it.

Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesn’t want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you won’t take it for an answer.

And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things he’s interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.

You don’t know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table that’s not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and you’d leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadn’t ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that you’d caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.

Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but it’s enough to make you suspicious — enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe you’re just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think it’s odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.

You don’t mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weather’s warmer, you’ll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, that’ll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like… bend you over. Maybe.

You’re often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible — now, more so than ever.

Sometimes, it’s easier, especially when you’re caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. There’s nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever he’s looking for a page in the textbook. It’s more of a situation where you’ll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.

Like right now, as you’re watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while he’s shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if he’s trying to will the answer to the worksheets you’ve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. You’d made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.

However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, you’re just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’s ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if it’d feel good for you to ride the thigh he’s currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if that’s what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.

You’d know the answer to all those things if he’d fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.

You’re so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. You’re still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.

“Can’t,” he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. “I feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.”

“Maybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,” you admit, even though you’ve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly haven’t touched a single item on his. “Should we call it a day for now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. “Woah. I didn’t even notice how dark it is already. I’d say time flies when you’re having fun, but I’m not too sure about the ‘fun’ part of it…”

You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moon’s already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesn’t make you feel as embarrassed, at least.

“You got a ride?”

The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. “Well — no. Wait, I didn’t know you had a car. Why’d you take the subway, then?”

“Oh — no, sorry, I… don’t.” He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if he’s actually actively reminding himself to look at you. “I was wondering if you wanted me to — actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; it’s not that important, but…”

You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. “I have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.”

“Oh, cool.” His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him you’re desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? “I came from the flagship store yesterday — the one in Hongdae that I told you about?” He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. “Got the last six boxes of the collection I’ve been trying to finish.”

You whistle appreciatively. “Can I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once I’ve upgraded to something pricier.”

“Nah — just itching to complete the set,” he laughs. You wonder if he’s been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt he’s that sly. Again, maybe you’re just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. “This was probably about two months of saving up combined.”

“No new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?” Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Mark’s hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but you’re happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.

“Maybe next month.” You also like that he doesn’t really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study — with an air of contentedness, like he’s happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when he’ll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when he’ll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one he sees whenever you’re near. It’s a win-win situation (sort of). “I was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spi— well, never mind that. I just thought — since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With… me.”

As much as he’s become comfortable talking to you about things that don’t involve coffee orders and school, you can’t say that you aren’t doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think he’s trying to ask you something but can’t seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.

Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack — which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual — he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until there’s a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as you’re putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.

“I’d love to.” You beam as he does, and there’s a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you he’s glad you manage to catch onto his words — or lack, thereof — surprisingly well. “For as long as you don’t blame me for any bad draws.”

“The contents have already been decided by my own hand — sort of,” he chuckles. “Point is, I would never do that to you. But I won’t lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.”

“What makes you think I’d have any of that running through my system?”

“Not sure — beginner’s luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me — like… you’re just made of good things.”

You don’t know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, it’s easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesn’t involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know you’re not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering you’re still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.

It’s hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you don’t do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. “So. What are the rules? What can I do, and what can’t I?”

“Uh.” His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest you’ve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that he’s also rather veiny. That doesn’t do your impurity any favors. “Not… really rules, or anything like that. Just — these are the ones I’ve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.”

You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There’s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and — “What’s… halo? Halo…bios?”

“It just means marine life,” he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasn’t joking. “Like… all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.”

“And you know this because?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isn’t that how we all learn things?”

You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. “You never cease to amaze me.” Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. “What’s this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?”

“No.” He’s clearly amused, but his expression’s still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. “It’s a secret design — a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so it’s really rare.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,” he admits. “Otherwise…”

“No rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?”

He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. It’s nice, you think, to have come this far — to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, there’s no denying, at least, that it’s been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.

“Well, leave it up to me. I’ll let all of this beginner’s luck rub off on you,” you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.

You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart — your luck doesn’t seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying he’s already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.

The second round isn’t much better; both of you manage to pull something he’s already added to his collection, and as you’re ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think it’s because he’s concerned about the obvious shit luck you’ve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whatever’s inside into something he doesn’t want, and you’re just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.

“No way, Mark.” Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. “If that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, I’m literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.”

He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesn’t completely shake his voice into incoherence. “I picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, you’re only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.”

“But,” your voice is pained. “Your money.”

“It’s not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.” He taps the front of the textbook — or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. “Probability mathematics.”

“I thought we already ended the study part of the day,” you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. You’re careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall — yours more than his — when you see it’s a repeat of the polar bear.

“Almost. It would’ve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so it’s technically not bad,” he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like you’ve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. “Try the last one.”

It’s irrational, but you’re suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, you’re worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder you’ve propped up against Mark’s tower of social defense. Even if he’s being genial about your rotten pulls, you don’t know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.

You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you don’t even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice it’s upside down.

For a moment, your shoulders deflate. It’s closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadn’t even mentioned it as something he’s looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and you’re not sure if it’s the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if it’s just his hands, but the image he’s holding is shivering slightly.

You look more closely at it, and something just doesn’t feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences — different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. It’s…

“Dream eater,” Mark’s voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. “It’s the secret one. You’re… incredible.”

“What are you talking about,” your words are just as raspy; you’re not sure if you’re actually choked up with emotion or something — over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. “You picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.”

The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet — the only one he actually opens because there’s no way he’s not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like he’s worried it’s a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; there’s a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. It’s anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.

You’re stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.

“I want you to have it.”

“What?” You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. “This is… you said it was crazy rare.”

“Yeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. That’s like… unimaginable luck. Even more than beginner’s luck.”

“Like I said, I literally just opened the box.”

“No — you have like… the golden touch.”

“Please,” you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. “Do not. I was just here for the ride — the experience, and all.”

“Seriously, take it.”

“Absolutely not—”

It’s a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.

There’s no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you can’t believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.

Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly he’s struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.

“No, really.” His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. “You should take it. I want you to.”

“It’s not mine. This is your thing — your hobby.”

“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I swear — I want you to keep it.”

“Why?”

He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.

“We can… share it,” you suggest. “Shared custody…. ish.”

His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod — slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.

“Yeah. We can share it. I’d… like that.”

You’re glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that it’s this little link between the two of you now — something you share that no one else can touch.

Mark, you notice, is smiling as well — more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and you’re once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when he’d do that to you.

“Thanks for staying with me, _________,” he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. “And for… doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day… with you.”

You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didn’t have to end just yet.

“__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?”

“Shut up,” you sigh at the guy seated across you — Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. “Stop moving. Be quiet. Don’t talk.”

“That’s the same thing as shut up and be quiet. What’s up with you?” He demands. “Fifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like I’m talking to a wax figure.”

You’d been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy — the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. He’s an enthusiastic classmate and someone you’ve come to be friendly with, not only because he’s genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time — save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.

Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central barista’s area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.

You’re also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that he’s the reason you’ve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isn’t his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like… you’ll blame him anyway. So you’re much more irritable, and you’ve definitely been missing Mark’s presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Youngho’s balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but you’re not that much of an animal to actually do that.

Probably.

There had been inquisitiveness across Mark’s face when he’d come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. You’d like to think it’s because he’s gotten as used to seeing you as you’re used to waiting to see him — like he just expects you to be there.

You hadn’t really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal he’d unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti you’d had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.

So you’re more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it — only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.

The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Youngho’s face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what you’re grinning at.

“Oh, you poor sap,” he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“What?” You’re still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.

“What what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.”

“Shut up,” you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally — albeit reluctantly — meeting his eye (just because Mark isn’t looking your way). “What were you saying about the sample size?”

“That it’s much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,” he says pointedly. “Is it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?”

“It’s a thing for Mark Lee,” you sigh, following Youngho’s suit and shutting your laptop close. You’re at least glad he’s not annoyed that you’re delaying work for a crush, or maybe he’s also just equally lazy at this point. “You ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?”

“No, because this isn’t a porn movie, and I’m clearly not the main character in whatever’s going on in there.” He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.

“Well, I would.”

He rolls his eyes. “So do it, dumbass.” He says this so simply, like he can’t imagine why you’d be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except it’s not really any of his business.

“Can’t.”

“Because?”

“Because it doesn’t fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.”

“Oh yeah, there it is.” Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like he’s greeting a next-door neighbor. “Hey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that you’re taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?”

“Asshole,” you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. “Get back on Google Drive.”

Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can ‘spend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.’ You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think there’s something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, you’re not sure it’d make the best impression on him.

“Next week’s my birthday,” Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.

“Congratulations,” you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. “Go away.”

“Usually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.” He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. “I’m having a get-together — and by get-together, I mean it’s gonna be a rager. You should come.”

“When?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Can’t,” you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if he’s just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. “Busy. School… whatever.” Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.

“This moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.”

“Are you going to be here all day?”

“Are you? Why don’t you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?” You can’t imagine why he sounds so exasperated. It’s not like this is his problem — or his business, for that matter. “Maybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to society’s development.”

“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?”

“Constantly.” He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. “Think about it. Maybe it’ll make you stop making that stupid face.”

“You’ve got a stupid face,” you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.

At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view — and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.

“Hey.” Even his voice sounds unsure — almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and… your friend?”

“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t have been interrupting,” you inform him, completely genuine. “He was spouting a lot of nonsense.”

“You guys seemed pretty close.”

“I guess it’s a proximity thing,” you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. “We’re partners.”

“Oh.” The way he draws out the syllable is slow. “That definitely makes sense.”

The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadn’t occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like you’re slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.

“He’s actually… I haven’t been able to see you because I’ve been working on something with him.” you offer, trying to answer a question he didn’t even ask. “Sorry about that. I swear I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

“No, no — I completely understand.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Thank you… for telling me, though. I— uh, appreciate that.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow, though.” You try injecting more pep into your voice. “I’ve really been behind on my algebra. I’ve definitely been drowning without you.”

“Oh, yeah.” A small smile graces his lips, but you can’t tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. “I’m down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Cool. See you, _________.”

You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You don’t know what it is about how he’s acting now, but it’s making you feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. All that hard work — there’s no way you’re letting him go.

“Mark, wait.”

You’re at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize this whole position.

Your exhale’s shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, “Do you like Chinese food?”

Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he can’t seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. “I like it well enough. Why?”

“There’s this really good dim sum buffet near my mom’s office. We tried it before — the Xiaolongbao is awesome.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”

You want to tear your hair out. “How about — you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know… together. With me.” You already fucking said that.

You’ve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like he’s trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that he’s malfunctioning, but just when you think he’s going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. “Tonight? Oh man… it’s my cousin’s birthday tonight. I can’t… reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other… time?”

Your ‘oh, yeah’ is small, and so is the ghost of Mark’s smile. You can’t help but feel like he’s pitying you a little, although he doesn’t seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think he’s extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize you’re still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.

Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like you’ve gone much, much further away.

The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why.

Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know it’s a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you can’t help but pattern what you’re doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isn’t a word you normally associate yourself with, but you’ve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, it’s actually your fault. No — it’s Youngho’s fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. You’re aware that he can’t do it himself, but since he’s informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.

And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; it’s not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. It’s this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought — or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of “next time, then,” but that ‘next time’ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.

Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.

“You sure you don’t want to answer it?” He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like he’s afraid it’s going to explode from all the pinging.

“Without the shadow of a doubt,” you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.

“It kind of seems important. Or, like… urgent.”

“He’ll live. Unfortunately.”

Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page he’s on. He’s neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.

“Didn’t you say you two were partners?”

“Yes. Also unfortunately.” Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Mark’s paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. “What did you get for number ten?” Buzz.

“A hundred and twe— are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if he’s… I don’t know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?”

You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble — only with you. “He’s just making a racket because it’s his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parents’ house, or something.”

“Sounds like fun.” The dubious tone in Mark’s voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isn’t that. Buzz.

“Not really, but I assume he’ll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.”

“He must really want you there.”

There it is again — that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like he’s trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasn’t even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.

“He just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.”

“Oh — yeah, okay. We’ll call it a day, then?” He’s avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.

You want to know what’s going on in his head. You want to know what’s going on in his heart — what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesn’t like you back. You want to know if he’d let you kiss him, if he’d kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.

You just don’t know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you haven’t figured out the most basic part of this — if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.

“Mark.” This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. “Come with me.”

“Sorry?” The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.

“I don’t really want to go, but maybe if we go together… we can just hang out a bit and leave once it’s boring… I think it’d be fun,” you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.

“I don’t think your… partner will like someone uninvited showing up.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“You’d be, like, my saving grace or something — my excuse to scram. We’ll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say — uh, we’ve got more work to do.” You’re practically begging him at this point, and you don’t even get why. You just don’t want him to leave looking the way he does — confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee — the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.

You don’t know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you don’t care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.

Something in his expression breaks — cracks first, then falls away, before he’s nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.

“If you think it’ll help you, then… okay.”

The bus ride to Youngho’s neighborhood is uneventful because it’s quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesn’t ask anything about the party or the company that’ll populate it, which is just as well, because you don’t have a clue.

You know it’s the right house because the door’s wide open and there’s music coming from inside; you can’t make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but you’re pretty sure it’s making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely don’t; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding you’re of no real consequence or harm to their moods.

Youngho’s easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because he’s lifted it over everyone else’s heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where you’d last seen Youngho.

“Bro, finally!” Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. “Where’s the gift? Did you leave it on the table?”

“Happy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?”

“I see you brought mister espresso with you,” he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice he’s squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. “So what? Y’all get to hook up already?”

“No. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,” you stop, offering him a pointed look that’s also ignored. “Wouldn’t stop texting.”

“Cockblock,” the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. “Oh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Name’s Jaehyun.”

You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.

“Oh, dude. You’re that girl — the Starbucks Showstopper.”

“The what?”

“That’s what his friends call you.” He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. “I’m with Mark and a couple of his friends — Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin — in College Algebra.”

You completely gloss over the fact that you’ve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named ‘Hyuck.’ “They… talk about me?”

“From time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have ears. It’s not hard when they talk like no one’s around.”

You shush Youngho’s exclamation of and you’re saying I’m nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. “What… what else did they talk about?”

“Not sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you don’t need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared you’re going to incinerate them. “They were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.”

“Oh gross.” The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Youngho’s expression is affronted.

“First of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didn’t even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow — now that I think about it, you’re terrible, _________.”

“Oh, shit; that someone was you?” The only person that isn’t tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Youngho’s sour face. “I think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.”

“What a smudge on my good name,” Youngho sighs mournfully. “On my special day, too.”

“I desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to — where’s Mark?”

Even when you stand on your tiptoes, you’re not nearly as tall as the two of them; it’s Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though he’s trying to decide if they’re safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted “later” that dismisses Jaehyun’s cooing that something’s going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.

Mark’s busy making a sour face at the sip of punch he’d just taken; he only straightens up when you’re right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. “Hey. Did you get to find… um…”

“That’s not important.” Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before you’re tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know it’s strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You can’t risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.

“We’re not leaving yet?” He has to shout over the music, but there’s no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Youngho’s room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesn’t feel like it’ll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor — which you could’ve sworn you’d seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. “_________, what’s going on?”

“Mark Lee,” you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. “What’s your fucking deal?”

You don’t think you’ve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe it’s just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you don’t even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, you’re still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if you’ve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.

But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line — one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.

Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you don’t understand — like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You don’t understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also don’t get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like he’s determined to ignore all the other signs — like he doesn’t want to know if it’s really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you don’t want to.

And for a long time, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: it’s simply just that you can’t stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you can’t be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.

There’s a moment of tense silence between you two, where you’re just staring at each other — him, perplexed, and you, agitated — and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when he’s dumbfounded.

“Sorry?”

“What,” you repeat pointedly. “Is your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought — I thought we were… getting closer. I thought… we…”

You’ve confirmed it now; you’re the epitome of cowardliness. You can’t even say I thought we liked each other — because you know that you do, but you still can’t honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things — smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine — to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.

“I thought we were cool,” you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. “But just when I think you’re warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like… you’re afraid of me. Or you don’t like me. I don’t know.”

“It’s not — I don’t — I’m not afraid of you,” he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because he’s lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. “I do like you. We are — we were getting — we’re close. We — we’re friends. You said that, and we are.”

“Is it only because I say we are that you agree?”

“What? No, I—” His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. “I really like being friends with you. I like being around you.”

“Then why do you act so weird these days? Like — you’ll be fine one moment, then you’ll back off, like you suddenly remembered you don’t want to be around me.”

“It’s not like that. I’m — I don’t get…” He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“How could I?” There’s something more than confusion coloring your voice; there’s hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. “I wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?”

Mark falls silent, and you don’t know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; he’s curling his toes inside them. You feel like you’ve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.

“You feel uncomfortable around me.” You rehash, but it’s no longer a question. “You don’t know how to get rid of me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“You think I’m only using you.”

“No.”

“Then what?” Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. It’s embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee — whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend — to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone else’s house.

A beat later, you’re mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone who’ll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.

But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and you’re unable to move, Mark’s palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice he’s still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.

“It’s not that. I didn’t ever want you to think — I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.”

“What does that matter?” Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. “That doesn’t explain your discomfort.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. “Because you wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t understand,” you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Mark’s grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But there’s something else, too — the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.

“That was all you said you wanted to be, right?” He waits for a response, but when you don’t give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. “You kept saying — we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even if…”

“Respect what?”

“That you didn’t want… anything else.”

The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that there’s a crowd Youngho hasn’t gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; you’d get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.

“You were jealous.”

Mark’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I tried to stop. I don’t have a lot of practice with — well, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because… I couldn’t fix it.”

“Your friends are assholes,” you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. “We aren’t. Weren’t. We never were dating.”

“Even without that, I thought… it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you — someone as pretty as you, as nice as you — I thought it would make you feel weird. Then you’d start avoiding me too. Or, worse, you’d keep doing it just because… you… felt bad for me.”

You don’t know what you find more ridiculous — that you hadn’t seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if you’d just been a little more honest with him too. Mark’s hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.

“I just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought… It’d be fine, just spending time with you, and I’d be able to like you for a while, on my own, then…” He looks a little pained. “Then just let you go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you couldn’t let go?” You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. There’s no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. “If there’s anything you should be apologizing for, it’s that you ever thought of doing it.”

Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. “It’s because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.”

“I like you.” And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer he’s already given. “I like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when I’m getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series you’re looking forward to — something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand — I like you in all those times.”

“Even when I’m jealous?”

“Especially when you are.” Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’ve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. It’s not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you could’ve done this a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesn’t look good this close to you. “So be jealous — because now, you know you can be.”

Kissing him is better than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; there’s a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The setting’s not at all an expected one, but you’ll take it, not because it’s dark or because it’s private but because Mark’s in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as he’d let you.

You’d like to think he’s flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, he’s the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Mark’s tongue tastes as good as you’ve imagined for so long.

It doesn’t; it tastes even better.

It’s still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away — not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.

“Months,” he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for months.”

And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. “But you’re suddenly holding back now?”

“Just letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.”

The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Mark’s thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. It’s also not enough — this touch, this closeness. You know now that he’s been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember you’ve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; he’s right here, and you don’t ever want him out of your grasp again.

“Where are you going?” He’s only curious for the sake of it; there’s no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. He’s still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. “What’s… happening now?”

“You waited months to kiss me, right?” He nods in response at your question. “I’ve been waiting just as long to have you too.”

His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But I just want you to know — I want to. I want you.”

A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You don’t know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.

“You don’t want to?”

“I—” His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”

“You seem worried.”

A hesitant nod. “I’ve never — well, no, I have, but not — with someone like you.”

“What’s someone like me?” You laugh airily.

“Someone pretty like you — I don’t know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like… they could do better than me.”

“Mark.” You can’t keep the incredulity out of your voice. “I do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest — I don’t care about. As long as it’s you, I want it.”

He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You don’t miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. “For real?”

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt — an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. “For real.”

The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; there’s lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves — first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until you’re able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. He’s radiating an immense amount of body heat that’s pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and you’re hyperaware of the smallest things — the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.

He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness that’s made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like you’re the only one who can have this experience — that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.

You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and there’s a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as he’s forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesn’t complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.

“I feel like,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. “We should have picked a different location. Someone… could walk in.”

“I locked the door,” you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but it’s clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think it’s unfair that he’s thinking way too hard about something else that isn’t you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. “Besides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?”

His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. “What — what do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t like it if someone — say, Youngho — walked in to see me on your lap like this?”

The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Mark’s breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you can’t help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adam’s apple. He’s surprisingly easy to tease, you realize — quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.

To say that you wouldn’t want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.

“Tell me,” you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. “You wouldn’t want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You don’t want him to watch you take me — so he knows you’re the only one that can?”

A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. “What do you want from me, _________?”

“I want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.”

You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like he’s praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart — which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.

“Then,” you whisper. “What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss that’s now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth can’t seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and he’s telling you wordlessly that it isn’t enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think he’s just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize he’s taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Mark’s breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.

“It’s crazy — and stupid,” he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. “But I want it, and I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss that’s somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.

“I want them — him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you — fucking you, too. I want everyone to know we’re like this.”

You’ve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it — pleased that he’s saying it to you. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want him to see you.” There’s a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading — a serious request. “I don’t want him to see how pretty you look. I don’t want him to see you when you’re bare, or how you look when I’m inside you. I don’t want him to see—”

His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.

“You don’t want him to see what’s only yours.”

He swallows hard again, but he doesn’t wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesn’t even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they don’t travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. It’s almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.

He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.

“You’re only mine,” he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize he’s still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, you’re quick to give it to him — quick to erase any doubt.

“I’m yours,” you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. “Only yours, Mark.”

Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows you’ve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you don’t get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. He’s kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the pad’s slight resistance to his mouth.

You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast — another breathless ‘mine’ that isn’t ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like he’s desperate to feel what’s underneath through it. There’s pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all that’s between you and him between his teeth.

Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. You’re close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.

No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. He’s quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.

“Mark.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze you’re in, you don’t really have a clear idea of what you’re asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as he’s already given you in kisses and words, you aren’t even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind — the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. “Mark, I want you. I want more of you.”

His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you don’t even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until you’re on your back, until he’s already eased one knee between your legs.

The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the former’s erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another ‘more’ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch that’s almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.

“Mark, please—”

“Would you really let him see you like this?” His thumb’s still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. “Would you really let him watch you… get fucked?”

You shake your head, and his brow furrows.

“I’d let him watch you fuck me,” you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. “It has to be only you.”

His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.

“Then I’ll unlock the door next time and give him a show.”

You don’t know if it’s what he says or what he does after — his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hem’s just below your neckline — that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesn’t matter when you realize you’d much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.

Mark’s mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure he’s covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize he’s somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.

You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and he’s watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that he’s only curious to know what else you’ll do.

The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference — the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.

“I can’t believe—” his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. “Can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What am I supposed to do,” you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. “So that you know it’s real?”

His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. “God — I don’t know. I just want — I just want you so badly. Like… I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have you now.”

You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. There’s something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.

“Take me,” you murmur quietly. “Right now — from now on, every part of me is all for you.”

His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until they’re folded over your chest. You don’t even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there — not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.

“I want to taste you,” he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. “Every inch of you — I want to know just how sweet you are.”

He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. It’s clear you’re both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, sounding like it’s a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. “The prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesn’t mean he’s supremely inexperienced by any means; there’s a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him — the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.

“I want to taste you,” he repeats, looking up at you. “I want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.”

You’re not sure if you’re gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee — your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush — had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but you’re sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.

His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that you’re trying to memorize this view of him too — Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.

“I’ve always wanted to see what it’d look like with your face between my legs,” you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. “I’ve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.”

Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish you’d heard louder.

“Won’t you show me?”

You think you hear him rasp out a ‘fuck yes’ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down — like he can’t stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.

The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb — you’re not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like he’s never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy — almost embarrassingly so — but you don’t have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and that’s really all that you can think of.

The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and you’re completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy you’ve become when you vaguely notice that there’s a pattern in what you’re saying — his name, over and over again.

“Did you do that too?” He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. “Say my name, I mean — when you thought of me.”

“God, yes.” Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. “So many times — every single fucking time.”

“Promise me something.” He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.

You nod — at this rate, whatever he’d ask you to do, you would without question. “Anything.”

His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.

“Promise me — from now on, you’ll make sure I’m always there to hear it.”

The only kind of assent you’re able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.

“Mark, I’m—” close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and there’s suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like he’s desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; they’re filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. “Fuck me, oh my god—”

“I want to,” he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. “God, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.”

His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and you’re not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; you’re only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesn’t stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.

You’re barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and you’re able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.

“Please — fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesn’t seem to care that you’re stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.

You want to help — it’s the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room — the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried it’s stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadn’t heard or doesn’t care because he’s too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.

You almost ignore Youngho’s voice grumbling ‘Jesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.

“Should we let him in?” You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Mark’s cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like he’s considering it. “You’re just about to fuck me, after all. Weren’t we going to — what did you say? Put on a show?”

He worries on his bottom lip, like he’s unsure if you’re serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.

“Not now,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now, you’re all mine.”

You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you don’t make any move to free it just yet — for some reason, you want to see him do it.

“Show me.”

He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.

Mark Lee is big — not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. You’re fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still can’t believe what you’re doing, even if you’re both half-naked already.

“I want to suck you off,” you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.

“Can’t — not now. I need to be in you so badly.” His breathing’s sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t even know — how long I’ve wanted to feel you.”

Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally — enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to know how tight you are,” he continues, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. “How much I would have killed to see you — have you like this. I’m not gonna be able to wait anymore.”

His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way that’s heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.

“I can’t wait,” he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You don’t want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then take me.”

And you’re not sure if it’s a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other hand’s flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs — enough space to bottom out completely.

Mark’s considerate in his pace — maybe he knows he’s big, or maybe he’s just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if it’s just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. He’s only halfway in, but you’re pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.

“You’re not—?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him softly, and it’s true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but it’s almost nothing to you — not compared to how much more you want. “Give me everything; I want all of you inside me.”

He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he can’t find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesn’t even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, you’ve taken him, his hips flush against yours.

He doesn’t move — not yet, his eyes trained to where you’re connected like he’s once again unable to believe what he’s doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.

“You’re tighter than I thought.”

“You’re bigger than I thought,” you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think — just what the both of you need. “Did you often think about fucking me?”

“Probably just as often as you’re making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your voice.

“I won’t. But it makes me feel good — knowing you wanted me just as bad.”

“I still do.” Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if you’re anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. “I’m still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Mark— please.”

He chuckles good-naturedly, but even that’s drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your body’s mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness that’s quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he can’t help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.

“Pretty,” he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper — just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. “God, you’re beautiful. I should’ve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter you’d get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in you— I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty you’d look under me. And you’re still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.”

There’s an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesn’t escape you. He’s a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.

“I wanted to ask you so many times.” His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. “Almost every day — I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you weren’t doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there — should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.”

His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before — like it’s meant to be a secret between just you and him.

“But there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldn’t wait.” His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. “I thought about making a move right then — I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.”

“Asked me what?” His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that it’s clear to the both of you that it won’t last.

Your lazy smile’s illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.

“I should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.”

“God,” his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. “Please. I can’t—”

“I should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,” you continue, bordering on merciless. “Mark, you don’t know — how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know I’m yours.”

You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and there’s a pleading in them that’s begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but you’re this far gone; you should at least see it through.

“And everyone would know you’re mine too.”

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didn’t even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. “Fuck, _________. If I had known you’d thought about me like that — God.”

It’s your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.

“One day,” he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you in front of him — in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. I’ll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and I’ll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.”

It’ll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and it’s what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell it’s somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.

The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and you’re already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming he’s paused out of concern. But before you can say you’re fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“Do it again,” he mumbles, sounding distant. “Breathe in. Suck in your stomach.”

You’re not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. You’re surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. “Mark, what are you—”

“I can see it,” he says in utter disbelief. “When you’re like this, I can — I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.”

Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you can’t see a thing, but you assume he’s not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place — up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.

Your throat tightens, and you don’t really understand the feeling that spreads in you — a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how you’re taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Mark’s to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.

The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and you’re not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is what’s making you whine and squirm even more; you’re trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis that’s coiling so tightly you feel like you can’t breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesn’t make it known; he’s busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.

“I would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,” he whispers in a way that’s almost reverent. “Let me — I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.”

You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, it’s broken in tearful stutters. “M-Mark, I’m s— I’m so close… I’m — fuck—”

“Do it.” It’s not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Mark’s face and shoulders, like he’s bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way he’s pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace — he’s close too. “Let me feel you — want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.

“Fuck.” Mark’s voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. “You get even tighter — you feel even better when you cum.”

“Mark,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You don’t even know what you’re asking for when you say ‘please,’ but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your body’s saying something you can’t fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.

“I know,” his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve got you. Just a little more — where do you want—?”

You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before you’re able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.

You’ve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brain’s fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming — the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then he’s still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.

You’re still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you don’t have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss — one that’s surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent you’re not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but that’s quickly overpowered by Mark’s familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timing’s suddenly become urgent.

“I want to date you properly,” you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Mark’s gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. “You never asked me, so I’m asking you.”

He looks perplexed. “I just never thought you wanted me to, so I didn’t try.”

You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.

“Do you still think I don’t want you to?”

Mark hums thoughtfully. “I think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.” He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. “Having you like this — dating you… there’s no way I’d say no.”

Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him — an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.

Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. “What was that?”

He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when it’s clear your curiosity won’t abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time — and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.

“You’re all mine.”

5K notes · View notes

miabebe · 3 months ago

Text

Accidentally Kidnapping A Mafia Boss (Yoon Jeonghan)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 2

Pairing - Yoon Jeonghan x afab!reader

Word Count - 70K 29K (please congratulate me, cutting down was the hardest thing I've ever done)

Genre - Strangers to something more I guess? Minimal crack (I had to choose between humour and sexual tension - it was painful, like choosing a favourite child), angst (just a small splash) and smut (loads of it, warnings under the cut)

Warnings - mentions of kidnapping and mafia, one scene where hands are thrown (But just to be clear, this is not like your usual mafia fics - it’s not dark or violent), mention of dub-con in OC's past

A/n -Those who are up to date with the teasers can jump directly for day 1 I guess! Anyways, this fic should have been a whole ass series, it was such a task finishing it in under 30K phew. I hope you enjoy this roller coaster - your comments, reblogs and tags are all very very appreciated! I shall put out an announcement when the next Reverse Trope installment is coming - for now, its time for Camp Seventeen!

Smut warnings - there's a bunch of call girls, masturbation-almost?, voyeurism, multiple smut scenes (3 or 4 idk), exhibitionism (nobody saw them though), fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid like them), multiple orgasms, oral (male receiving), okay I hope we're done

"You're being a real pain in my ass right now." "I don't see how it’s an issue since that’s not much of an ass." Seokmin glared at Seungkwan. "Just because some stupid college club awarded you a silly superlative-" "-best bakery in town is not a ‘silly’ superlative-" "-like once-" "-twice. In a row-" "-doesn't mean-" "-absolutely does-" "Will you two shut up?" You hissed under your breath looking around. "Are you trying to get us all caught?" Seungkwan clicked his tongue annoyed. "You're acting like we're in the middle of a crime." Your eyes flickered from Seokmin to Seungkwan before landing on the third guy in between them, the one who was unconscious and being held up with his arms thrown over the shoulders of his friends. "Last I checked, kidnapping is a crime." You pointed out. Seokmin rolled his eyes. "Prank-ing your friend isn't." "That is if Soonyoung decides he wants to save your sorry ass." "Again, not much of an ass-" "I swear to god Kwan-" Groaning you covered your ears to shut out all the bickering. That night when drunk Soonyoung had pushed your buttons, consequently leading to the events of tonight, you did not think it would be this hard.

The plan was simple - on Mondays, Soonyoung was in charge of closing the BBQ shop where all 3 of your closest friends worked. His routine was fairly straightforward - first he clears and cleans all the tables, then he closes the kitchen, then changes out of his uniform and finally wraps it up by locking the main door. That's where you would get him, right as he closed the doors. You were to take him by surprise from the back, cover his face with a black cloth bag, bring him to your apartment and tie him up leaving him immobile, blinded and helpless. One might wonder why such cruelty when you called him a friend but you would argue that Soonyoung deserved it. After all, last night he hadn't stopped mentioning how boring you were and how your life was so uninteresting and how you didn't have a single exciting adventure while he had a shit ton of them. Well, today you were about to give yourself, and him, a story to tell.

Now things did go according to plan, for the most part. Seokmin and Seungkwan were first reluctant to be a part of this madness but that was until you brought up the prospect of Soonyoung being scared enough to hopefully piss in his pants. Intrigued by the idea, they joined and all three of you waited in the bushes, watching your friend's silhouette moving around the shop, putting things away, cleaning up. Just as he reappeared after changing, hurriedly trying to leave the shop, the three of you got to action, approaching him silently from the back, swiftly holding him by the hands and putting the bag over his face. What you didn't take into account in this plan was just how much resistance Soonyoung would show, God knows why you didn't consider his adrenaline driven reaction, but man did he put up a fight. It was only natural you retaliate and so instinctively, you landed a smack on his head with the torch in your hand knocking him out, making him buckle into the pavement as the two other boys caught him, looking at you bewildered. That was perhaps just the beginning of your problems because now you had to very un-suspiciously drag a very unconscious man to your apartment in the dead of the night. It would have helped if this neighbourhood was even a little sketchy but being a quiet, painfully uneventful suburb meant even the smallest of things was seen with high scrutiny. So far, the three of you had somehow managed to make it from the restaurant to your building undetected but it was getting from the first floor to your house that was the real task since the building's resident old woman decided she wanted to feed the stray cats at 2 am.

"How much longer are we gonna have to do this?" Seungkwan groaned. "He's surprisingly not that heavy but my arm is starting to sleep." "Yeah, this joke isn't as funny anymore-" "Will you two just keep quiet?" You turned to them annoyed. "She'll be gone in a few minutes and then we can move. Didn't you two say you wanted Soonyoung to shut up for a few days?” Seokmin mumbled a yes under his breath while Seungkwan nodded hesitating. Hoping for some silence after this, you turned to watch the old woman stroking the cat softly as it slowly nibbled its food. Although your patience was really being tested, something told you if you didn't go through this plan, in another 40 years, you'd be exactly like that old lady - lonely, boring and feeding stray cats. Terrified by that thought, you held it together even though it took a whole 15 minutes for the scene to clear. As the three, no four of you, proceeded towards your apartment, the stray cat watched, licking its paw.

Seungkwan and Seokmin groaned in relief as they half threw Soonyoung onto the chair you pulled to the middle, rubbing their aching shoulders. Scouring the drawers, you pulled out a rope with a soft “aha” making them turn towards your unnaturally happy self. Soonyoung stirred in his chair. “You're a little too excited about this-” “Shhh!” You covered Seokmin's mouth with your hand, whispering. “If you talk, he'll know it's us, then it's not scary anymore.” “Frankly, I think the kidnapping and knocking him out cold must have been scary enough already.” “Not enough” You glared as Soonyoung let out a soft groan, letting you know he was coming around. “Quick, take out your phone and open one of those AI apps. We'll type what we want to say and use the bot voice - that way he'll have no idea.” All three of you huddled, glancing at the phone as Seungkwan typed something quickly, pressing play to let the low toned automated voice echo through the room. “I cannot wait to see Soonyoung shit his pants.” Seokmin giggled as your lips curled into a pleased smile. Oh, he was surely going to shit his pants. “And why would I do that?” Soonyoung's voice sounded confused. “Because we-” Seokmin looked up, freezing mid-sentence, noticing the voice did not come from the person before him. All three of you exchanged looks realising the same before slowly turning around. Soonyoung was standing at the entrance like he just walked in, looking bewildered. Before any of you could process the situation, he pointed over your shoulders, frowning.

“And who's that?”

Oh.

“And why is he wearing my clothes?”

Oh no.

You turned back to see the man in question, slowly pull the black bag from over his head, shaking his golden tresses away from his face. Oh lord was he gorgeous. As he blinked his eyes open, wondering where the hell he was, you were busy running your eyes all over his pretty features and suddenly, in that short span of 20 seconds, you had memorised where every single mole on his face was. Seokmin and Seungkwan meanwhile, held your arms on either side half hiding behind you which was stupid considering you were the biggest coward in the room. But somehow, as the man before you looked at all of you with narrowed, accusing eyes and tried to stand up, you swung your arm and smacked him right on the head with the torch again. All three boys gawked at you as the man fell back into the chair again, head rolling to the side, unconscious. “What the hell mate-” “I'm sorry I panicked!” “Will someone tell me what's happening? Why is he wearing my clothes-” “Shut up Soonyoung.” Seungkwan turned to you looking terrified. “Do you have any idea what you've done?” “Hey, this can't be just on me, we all thought it was Soonyoung-” “Me???” “-how is this only my fault-” “Because!” Seungkwan raised his voice pointing a shaking finger. “The man you just knocked out again, that's…that's….” “That's…” Seokmin's eyes widened in realisation. “That's the city’s most infamous mafia boss, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“They aren't picking up.” You sighed, pacing around the room. “Why aren't they picking up??”

All three boys who were perched on the breakfast bar shrugged, continuing to munch on their chocolate bars.

“Y’all are awfully calm considering the mess we’ve landed in.”

“The mess you landed us in.” Soonyoung, who had been filled about the situation, pointed out, licking his fingers. “If you hadn’t tried to pull that terrible prank on me-”

“Okay Kwon, I don’t need this right now.” You rolled your eyes and Soonyoung made a mocking face before returning to his snack. Sighing, you dialed the number again, hoping for a response at least this time.

“Voicemail. Again!” You squeezed your phone, nearly throwing it across the room, half screaming in frustration. The boys hissed, signaling you to shut up as you bit your tongue and turned towards the elephant in the room.

Well, not a literal elephant, he was barely one sixteenth its size, the figurative elephant, Yoon Jeonghan.

He still sat, unconscious and beautiful as ever, only his hands were now tied behind the chair, securing him in place. Seokmin insisted it was necessary considering this would be his second time attempting to try and escape. When you had expressed your confusion, Seungkwan pulled out his phone, flipped through his gallery and showed you a picture he had clicked in the city a few days ago - a poster with Jeonghan’s face on it, a text on the bottom.

Dangerous criminal Yoon Jeonghan escaped from prison on the 15th of August. Please be cautious and if seen, call the number below. A reward of 20,000 dollars is offered for any incriminating information.

The moment all of you finished reading, it was like a switch flipped.

Soonyoung immediately secured Jeonghan's hands, Seokmin darkened the room, turning off all the lights and Seungkwan shut all the curtains, shoving his phone into your hands. You though, just stood frozen, watching all of them getting to work, unable to comprehend the situation. It was only when Seungkwan shook you physically telling you to call that number that you finally came to your senses, quickly dialing it.

Since then, it had been over an hour and you had called almost 48 times unsuccessfully, much to your frustration but not so much to the boys. They simply continued to raid your snack drawer, chattering away in hushed whispers. You on the other hand wanted to pull your hair out.

“Why do you look so distressed hon?” Soonyoung looked at you, worried.

“Why?” You raised your eyebrows. “Why?? Can you not see why? Do you not understand how risky it is keeping him here-” You shot the unconscious man a glance, whispering. “What if he wakes up?”

“Then you knock him out again.” Seungkwan chuckled. “This is not a joke you guys.” You tried to be heard above all the reenacting and laughing. “I get that the 20k offer looks enticing but should we take a risk this big-”

“You think this is about the money?” Seokmin looked at you almost offended. “He’s a criminal Y/n, handing him over to the cops is doing what’s right! That’s our duty as responsible citizens-”

“Well this can’t be the only way to go about it? I’m sure there are other ways-”

“Like what?” Seungkwan frowned curiously.

“I don’t know.” You bit your lower lip, turning to Jeonghan, hands shaking nervously. “We could go out there and find a cop-”

“When was the last time you even saw a cop in this vicinity?” Soonyoung raised an amused eyebrow.

“Fine, then we’ll take him to the nearest police station?”

“That’s almost twenty five miles from here.” Soonyoung pointed out. “What if on the way he becomes un-unconscious-”

“Conscious.”

“-then wouldn’t we be in more danger?”

Sighing, you buried your face in your hands, shaking your head. “Oh god, how did we get ourselves stuck in a situation this terrible-.”

“Oh come on, it's not so bad.” Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “It's not like we're committing a crime, in fact we are doing the complete opposite of it, you should be proud of us.”

“I prefer my sanity over pride please, thank you.”

Soonyoung clapped his hand. “So let's get you your vanity back-”

“Sanity.”

“-the more we try to call that number, the sooner we manage to contact the cops and before you know it, he'll be gone and all of this will be over.”

Sighing, you handed the phone to him, gesturing that he try now, sick of hearing the voicemail message over and over again. No sooner after he reached for it, a loud ringtone began echoing in the room making all of you jump cause a. it was really loud and b. it was not coming from this phone…..

All four of you exchanged looks turning to the source of the sound - the pocket on the inside of Jeonghan’s jacket.

Noticing how Jeonghan was starting to slightly stir, Seungkwan quickly moved closer to him, pulling out his phone, fingers moving swiftly to mute. As it continued to vibrate in his hand, the rest of you gathered around, looking at the screen over his shoulder - Assistant 1, annoying, do not pick up. But before any of you had to make the executive decision whether or not to lift the phone, thank god for the timing, the call ended, allowing you all to take a sigh of relief.

Trying to catch your breath again, just as you almost moved back to your original position, it rang again, somehow even more loudly this time and like an idiot in his hurry, Seungkwan accidentally lifted the call, making you gasp and almost scream.

“No, don’t-”

“Boss.” Though it was barely audible, he sounded exasperated. “Please tell me you’re not with a girl.”

As Seungkwan put the call on speaker, the boys looked at you, signaling you to talk. Looking lost, you stuttered. “I uh…yes, he’s with me.”

“Of course he is.” His voice boomed in the room. “I need to talk to him.”

You hesitated, looking at Jeonghan still sitting slumped. “I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now.”

“And why not?”

“Cause he’s tied up?” You shook your head fast, when your friends looked at you wide eyed - now was not the time for truths??? “I mean he’s tied up with some work-”

“Oh please, there’s no need to cover up.” The man sounded amused. “I always had a feeling that this was one of his kinks.”

You looked at the screen mortified. Did he just say kinks? “I’m sorry what???”

“No, I’m sorry you’re stuck with that sadist of a man. If you’re free after you’re done with him, I assure you, I could show you a much better time.”

Gasping inaudibly, you felt the heat in your cheeks rising. “I’m not a…. no, god no. He’s tied up as in, unconscious and tied up. Kidnapped, unconscious and tied up.”

The boys’ jaws dropped in disbelief. What the hell were you blabbering?

“Did you just say you kidnapped him?”

Hands shivering you tried to shove the phone into someone else's hands, only for all of them to quite literally run away.

“Woman, I’m asking you something. Did you just say you kidnapped Jeonghan? The Yoon Jeonghan?” He paused, as you moved, standing in front of the man in question, watching him carefully. “Do you even know who he is?”

“I….yes.” You sighed, sweat rolling down your forehead. “Yes I know who he is and look, it's a long story that I can’t explain right now and I’m sorry you had to find out this way but I’m calling the cops and handing him over tonight.”

“You called me to tell me that you were handing him to the cops?”

“Actually you called-”

“And for what? That measly twenty k?” He scoffed. “I know what you’re doing here - I’ll give you thirty in exchange for him.”

And suddenly, all the boys were around the phone.

“No thank you.” You shook your head. “This isn’t about the money, it’s about doing the right thing and that is to hand him over-”

“Wow you’re really playing that card?” He sighed. “Fine, I’ll give you fifty.”

At this point, Seungkwan lunged for his phone, narrowly missing it as you swiftly moved your hand away, surprised.

“Seventy five?”

Seokmin tried to reach for it too, but you were too quick for him too, moving away, looking at them incredulously. What the hell were they doing now?

“Final offer, a hundred thousand or I have other ways-”

“Done.” Soonyoung, the nimblest of them all, quickly grabbed the phone from your hands talking into it. “Hundred thousand and he’s yours.”

“Kwon-”

Seokmin covered your mouth, holding you back. “We want it in cash.”

“That might be an issue-” The man on the phone let out a tired breath. “-things are tight now, cash will be hard.”

“It’s cash or he goes to the cops.” Seokmin continued, still holding you back with his strong arms, rendering your struggles pointless.

The line went quiet on the other side. The boys look at each other, worried.

“Fine.” He finally agreed as they sighed in relief. “But I’ll need about ten days to arrange for it.”

“We are in no hurry.” Seungkwan added. “Whenever you send the cash, we’ll send him.”

“And till then?”

“Till then, he’ll be here, with us.” Soonyoung confirmed, earning a protest from you that drowned out.

“I hope you remember that the cops are actively looking for him-”

“We do. Which is why you need to make sure the money reaches us by the tenth day.” Seungkwan pointed out. “Otherwise you know where he’s going.”

“No don’t….” The man sighed. “There’s no need to make such hasty decisions, you’ll get your money.”

“Good, keep in touch on this number and let us know when you have the cash ready and….that's all, okay bye.”

Seungkwan spoke quickly before he cut the call and all the boys looked at each other amazed. When Seokmin finally released you, he shrieked as you landed a few harmless punches on him, hard and fast.

“Are you insane???” You looked around. “Are all of you insane?”

“Hon,” Soonyoung held you by the shoulders, shaking them. “It’s a hundred thousand dollars-”

“I thought it was not about the money.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to be a responsible citizen-”

“Oh please it’s always about the money.” Seokmin walked over and fell back onto the couch. “A hundred thousand dollars, wow, I’ve never even heard of so much money in my life.”

“Can’t believe I’m going to be a millionaire.” Soonyoung joined him on, earning an eye roll from you.

“How exactly?” You crossed your arms. “It’s twenty five thousand dollars a person.”

“So you are agreeing to be a part of it!” Seungkwan clapped happily, ignoring your words of protest. “We’re all going to be so rich.”

“Twenty five thousand dollars isn’t exactly a fortune-”

“It might not be for you, but not all of us have dropped out of college and are running our own freelance business from the comfort of our grandmother’s apartment.” Seokmin pointed out. “We could really use the money.”

“That’s fair but-”

“No ‘buts’ now.” Seungkwan raised his hand to stop you. “Come on Y/n, do this for us? All we ask is for ten days. Don’t you remember when you moved to this locality, we were the only ones there for you? For 2 whole years we’ve been with you through thick and thin-”

Thud.

Seungkwan stuttered to a stop, turning around at the sound. The rest of you shifted around too to see what happened, heartbeat rapidly rising when you realized that Jeonghan was stirring awake..... and more importantly, the knot that “believe me I'm an expert” Soonyoung had tied around his hands had come undone, the rope falling to the floor.

Wincing, Jeonghan opened his eyes slowly as all of you froze, watching the infamous mafia boss raise his head, blinking in the darkness.

You panicked, noticing that your one and only weapon here, your trusty torchlight, was far from you, right by his foot. Wondering if it was dark enough, considering the room was only lit by the soft and minimal glow of the streetlights pouring in, you slowly inched towards Jeonghan who still seemed like he hadn't fully come around. Just as you reached him, bending to pick up the torch, Seungkwan, who was inching back to press himself against the wall and somehow blend into it, pressed against the switches, the lights instantly turning on, illuminating the whole room.

Jeonghan slowly looked up, eyes meeting yours, lips parting softly.

You opened your mouth to scream or say something, you can’t remember what exactly, instead resorting to just staring at the way his hair beautifully framed his face, long eyelashes touching the curve of his cheeks as he blinked. As you continued to remain frozen, his eyes ran over the features of your face, before his lips curled into a small smile.

“I love you.”

You snapped out of your trance in a second, jaw dropping.

“God I really love you.” He repeated, as you quickly grabbed the torch and moved back hurriedly and Seokmin, clearly your most sensible friend, quickly got up, putting himself between you and Jeonghan.

“What did he say?” Seokmin looked at you over his shoulder, mumbling.

“You’re….” Seungkwan took a small, careful step. “You’re not mad?”

“My head does hurt like a bitch.” Jeonghan cocked his head at you who was half hiding behind your biggest friend. “But I would have been more mad if I was in jail compared to waking up in….” He looked around again. “.....whatever this is.”

“My house.” You muttered, gripping the torch as Soonyoung slowly and silently walked around, kicking the rope under the sofa, before he joined you, looking casual as ever.

“Yes, jail would be bad.” He agreed. “But here, you’re totally safe, no stress at all.”

“And why exactly?” Jeonghan frowned, eyes flickering over all of you. “Obviously you know who I am. Why aren’t you handing me to the cops?”

“That's um…because….” Seungkwan mumbled, putting his arm around your shoulder, with a firm nod. “Because of her uncle.”

You blinked at him.

You had no uncle.

“M-mine?”

“Yes, her uncle was….unfairly arrested by the cops last year, they sort of put him away for good so uh….helping you is, in a way, our revenge against this foul legal system.”

Jeonghan didn’t look even a little convinced. Maybe just a little when he looked at you with an eyebrow raised in question and you hesitatingly nodded.

“Okay, y’all are clearly a weird bunch but I'm not going to question it since whatever this is, it's helping me out.” He got up, wincing as he held his head. “and now I'll get going-”

“No!” All three boys screamed, taking both Jeonghan and you aback, ears almost ringing.

“We mean…” Seungkwan started at a much softer tone. “You can’t go out right now, it’s not safe for you.”

“I am aware,” Jeonghan patted his pockets as though he was searching for something. “I need to call my people and find them in the city again. Once they arrange a way for me to permanently leave the country, I'll be safe, finally-”

“You are safe here too.” Soonyoung quipped. “There’s no place better than this neighbourhood - it’s quiet, almost thirty miles from the city, filled with senior citizens who are absolutely cut off from the world - they probably don’t even know who you are.”

“Most importantly,” Seokmin added. “Because this place is so dull, cops don’t even come here, hell the closest police station is over twenty five miles away.”

“Huh” Jeonghan looked thoughtful, continuing to slide his hands into all his pockets one by one, mumbling. “I can't find my phone-”

“It probably fell when you were running around-.” Seungkwan gripped the bulge in his back pocket where Jeonghan’s phone was tucked away. “-now that you can't contact your…gang? it'll be dangerous for you to go unguided.”

“Exactly.” Soonyoung stepped up. “Say you give it some time, maybe 10 ten days or so for things in the city to cool off a little and then you can go, find your people and leave the country?”

Jeonghan started at the floor as though he was mulling over it, each passing second feeling like almost an hour.

Finally he looked up, slowly nodding, much to everyone's relief. “I guess I could?” He held the bump on his head again, wincing in pain. “First I'm gonna need a shower and a meal.” He looked at you, lips curling into a small smile. “Is knocking people out your only talent or can you whip up a ramyeon too?”

Tearing your eyes away from his intense gaze you mumbled that you could, earning a two finger salute from him before he disappeared behind the door of the bathroom.

As all of four of you collectively let out a sigh of relief, Seungkwan shoved Jeonghan’s phone into your hands.

“Keep this safe and keep him safe.” He looked around at everyone. “We need to continue making him feel as though living here for 10 days is good for him, not us.”

“Agreed.” Seokmin hummed. “He cannot, at any cost, know he’s being held for ransom. God knows what he might do then.”

“I still can’t believe it though.” Soonyoung let out a low whistle, looking around almost proud. “I can’t believe we accidentally kidnapped a mafia boss.”

“Smells fucking good.”

You bit back a gasp hearing Jeonghan’s voice from behind you, right at the shell of your ear as you stood behind the stove, stirring his meal. Gulping you turned, regretting it immediately when you found yourself inches away from him yet again but this time, he was standing in just his towel, blonde wet hair falling into his eyes, rivets of water running down his smooth abdomen. As your eyes found their way back up again, Jeonghan smirked at you.

“Strange.” He cocked his head at you. “On one hand you seem so meek and quiet, yet no one has ever really looked at me the way you do.”

Please don’t say things like that.

Feeling unnaturally hot, perhaps because you were sandwiched between a boiling pot of noodles and a man this attractive, you turned away, turning off the gas, wiping the sweat running down your neck.

Jeonghan chuckled. “I need something to wear. Think you got anything?”

You nodded, setting the pot down, before moving away from him (thank god) and walking into your office room. Jeonghan followed at a distance, shaking off the water in his hair, looking around confused as he stepped in.

“Aren’t you a bit too old to play dress up?” He pointed at the mannequin in the corner donning a pretty maroon half finished dress.

“That’s…. My work.” You confessed, going through a stack of clothes in the drawers on the far end.

“You made that?”

You nodded softly. “Yeah I’m sort of a freelance fashion designer.”

“For who, the dead?” He frowned. “Who even wears clothes like these anymore?”

Trying not to get too offended, you pulled out the pair of pajamas you were looking for and turned to him. “It’s for the main lead of the new Macbeth play. I, uh, custom make clothes for theater productions and stage plays.”

“Ah.” He nodded looking around at the large table filled with all kinds of measuring tapes and scissors and big shelves stacked with materials of all kinds, two sewing machines lined up against the wall. “Interesting.”

You're not really sure what he found so fascinating but you cleared your throat, trying to change the topic.

“I only have this that might fit you.” Walking over, you handed him a neatly folded purple checkered pajama set. “I made it for my…. for someone a few years back but he didn’t like the colour so it's brand new.”

“I love purple.” Jeonghan grinned, taking it from you, immediately slipping on the shirt. “By someone else, do you mean one of the boys?”

You shook your head. “No, I never make clothes for them, my style is a bit too…. um old fashioned?”

“You continue to surprise me.” He looked at you thoughtfully. “Old fashioned with clothes but open minded enough to live with three men.”

You blinked stupidly. “I don't live with three men.”

“Oh they don’t live here?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “You four aren't a thing?”

“Four? As in all four of us??.….” You looked at him wide eyed and scandalized. “Of course not! How could you even think that, w-what does that even mean-”

“Okay relax princess.” Jeonghan took a step back, raising his hands. “Even if you were, it’s cool. I don’t judge.”

Definitely not relaxing, you looked everywhere but at him, heat continuing to rise uncomfortably in your body.

Jeonghan looked at you amused, biting his lip. “But I will judge if you continue to stand here and watch me wear the pants.”

Shaking your head and apologising, you practically ran out of there, heart racing in your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge. The kind of things he said, the way he looked….Please please please stop it.

Trying your best to push him out of your mind, you got back to the stove, grabbing the pot and placing it on the table. You stared at it for a bit before sighing and pulling out a few of your mom’s sides from the fridge, adding it to his meal. As you poured out a glass of juice, Jeonghan walked up, rubbing his hands, pulling the chair and sitting down.

“You put sides and all? Sweet.”

He grabbed the pair of chopsticks and took a large bite, humming in relief. You knew it was burning hot, but he was probably way too hungry to care because the speed made it look like he was inhaling it.

“Sit.” He looked up mid bite. “I don’t like eating alone.”

Although you didn't wish to be in his presence for long, you sat down, unable to say no. The entire time, Jeonghan ate quietly, tasting all the sides, drinking the juice in between, loudly smacking his lips after every bite. After devouring it all in less than five minutes, he raised the bowl to his mouth, downing all the soup, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was so delicious princess, I almost wanna stay here all my life.” He got up, stretching as he did. “But unfortunately 10 days is all we have.”

Silently, you half nodded, gathering all the dishes he had left on the table, taking them to the sink. Jeonghan watched you, please stop looking at me, and when you returned to wipe the table, he leaned in, for the third time tonight, putting his face incredibly close to yours. “You’re a tough nut to crack, but I think I’ll have you all figured out in ten days.” As you tried to move further back, unable to breathe in the proximity, he moved closer, smirking. “Goodnight princess.”

And with that he walked off, turning into your bedroom, closing the door behind him.

You simply stared, rapidly blinking, heart refusing to calm down, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

And this was just day zero of ten.

Day 1 of 10

“Yoon Jeonghan has to go.”

Soonyoung, Seungkwan and Seokmin looked up from their dinner as you slammed the restaurant door open. Immediately panicked and looking around, they pulled you to their table, shushing you with hushed voices.

“What is wrong with you-” Seungkwan hissed as Seokmin went over to the only other people in the shop, the two old ladies sitting in the corner, trying to distract them with some free tea. “-you can’t go around screaming his name.”

“You don’t understand.” Leaning back into the chair, you sighed. “I cannot be around him, I can’t handle it….”

“What did he even do?” Soonyoung looked at you curiously and Seokmin returned, settling in his chair.

And then you began to spill the details of all the events, starting from the moment he took over your bedroom last night.

Yes you lived in a decently sized two bedroom house but with one room converted into your workspace and the other occupied by Jeonghan, you had no choice but to take the extremely uncomfortable couch in the living room. Of course you were already drifting in and out of sleep because of all the pain in your back and like that was not enough……

As though on cue, the lady who lived in the apartment above yours walked in, her pleasant expression turning almost disgusted as her eyes fell on you and you knew precisely why - because of all the obnoxiously loud moaning last night.

Seokmin watched the two of you, eyes narrowing. “Why is she looking at you like that?”

Voice shaking, you told them.

“Wait wait wait.” Seungkwan interjected, jaw dropping. “You’re telling me he didn’t just sleep in your room but also…. also brought home a woman?”

You nodded. For a hot second, last night you thought you were dreaming or imagining those sounds. As you focused, listening harder you realised they were the moans of an actual woman, coming straight from your bedroom, followed by Jeonghan’s soft grunts. And lord, the things he was saying??

Are you even trying? Is that the best you can do?

Oh, you feel good? Where are your manners then? Be a good girl and thank me.

You’ll do anything, won’t you? This is all you’re good for - a set of wet and wanting holes.

“So you think he brought home a whore-” You winced at the word, making Seokmin immediately change his statement. “-a person, a professional, and had a love making session in your room? On your bed?”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” You groaned. “And that was no love making, it was loud and-” You gulped, pressing your legs together, trying to ignore the feeling between them. “-and just disturbing.”

“I understand it’s hard for you,” Seungkwan started. “But if it’s just that one thing-”

“Oh no no it’s not just that one thing.” You sat up, ready with a whole mentally prepared list. “That's what I slept to, guess what I woke up to? A delivery man with nearly 30 packages of all sorts of things he ordered online for his ‘ease’ because he ‘can’t live without them’ and you might wonder what the issue with that is? It is the fact that he had me pay for it and it wasn’t five or ten dollars, I paid seven thousand dollars in the morning-” All the boys' jaws dropped. “-that’s right I paid seven thousand for his things which he, by the way, made me sit and open because his ‘head hurts too much’.”

“Okay, we get it-”

“And he keeps wearing all my clothes! Not mine, I mean the ones I make-” You corrected when the boys looked at you weirdly. “This morning he wore the pure white cashmere sweater I spent hours making for the evil queen in Snow white. Now it sits in my house decorated with polka dots of ramyeon soup.”

“Oh-”

“And he never cleans up after himself! He expects me to cook, sits and eats and then just leaves when he’s done?! He drops crumbs everywhere, he doesn't put things back in their place, I'm-”

“Breathe hon breathe,” Soonyoung rubbed your back. “He's inconvenient and it sucks, we get it but….but it’s only been a day?” He looked around, pausing as the lady above your house collected her food and walked past, face turned away from you. “What about the rest of the time? Did he bother you in any way?”

“Not really.” You sigh. “He pretty much minds his own business. He was either sleeping or watching tv the rest of the time…and also going through all my fashion magazines, with potato chip dust on his fingers by the way-”

“Alright, alright, we get it, he’s a pain.” Seungkwan looked at you a little pleadingly. “But you do know, given our current situation, we don’t have a choice but to house him for another 9 days.”

“Kwan, It’s still not too late to hand him over to the cops-”

“Please.” Seungkwan pleaded, hands joined, ready to fall to his knees if needed. “We’ll give you a higher share of the ransom if you want-”

“You think money is the issue?”

“Of course it’s not, he’s an idiot to suggest that.” Seokmin interrupted. “It’s not about the money Y/n, just…. do it for us? Think about how you could reform the three of our lives. We could go from busting our asses waiting tables here to maybe owning our own little shop. Don’t you want that for us?”

You stared at Seokmin’s puppy face then at Soonyoung’s big eyes then at…..whatever cute expression Seungkwan was trying and failing to make. If you could help improve the lives of the friends who were closest to you, maybe you can hang in there for a few days?

You could not. You most definitely could not. And you realised that the moment you excitedly stepped into your house again with a generous amount of packed late night snacks.

Clothes - Jeonghan’s and a woman’s - were strewn all over the house, right from the main door to the bedroom as though they couldn’t wait for even the five seconds it took to walk the minimal distance. As you heard a guttural moan, you shut your ears, preparing for yet another night of suffocating yourself under your pillow.

Day 2 of 10

“I got you some DakGalBi.” Soonyoung raised the familiar black bag of the bbq shop before him as you sighed.

“I made the same thing for lunch.”

“You did?” He looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t know how to.”

“I don't, I watched a few videos; followed a cookbook.” You mumbled. “Jeonghan said he wanted to eat.”

“Is he still bothering you?” Soonyoung asked concerned, eyes running over your tired features. By bothering if he meant taking over every aspect of your life and not giving you the freedom to breathe peacefully in your own house, then yes, Yoon Jeonghan was absolutely bothering you. Did you tell Soonyoung that though? No, because 1, just yesterday, you had told your friends that you would “hang in there” and 2, you most definitely couldn’t hang in there and were already secretly planning ways to oust Jeonghan from your house.

The journey to making this decision started the moment you woke up. It was yet again to the sound of knocking except, it wasn’t on your door, it was coming from your home office. Wondering what in the world Jeonghan was doing there, you quickly kicked off the covers and jumped to your feet, walking over. At first glance, you didn’t spot him inside and then your eyes found a complete stranger drumming her fingers on your sewing machine. You stood frozen, fully taken aback as she looked at you, your favorite coffee mug in her hand as she sipped out of it.

“This dress could use a deeper neck.” She pointed at the one on the mannequin and then at herself. “Like this.”

You refused to look at her plunging neckline out of which all her….assets were spilling out. God knows why you couldn’t refuse to take her opinion on your work or tell her to get the hell out of your house. Instead, you just continued to stand frozen until you felt Jeonghan’s presence behind you.

“What are you doing here?” He sounded like he just woke up, voice just a little deep and husky.

“I was curious what was in here-”

“I mean what are you still doing here?” He walked up, putting himself between the two of you. “You were supposed to leave after you were done.”

“It was raining outside, I couldn’t go.” She muttered, looking at him hopefully. “Besides I wanted to see you in the morning before I go-”

“I don’t.” He cut her off, pointing over his shoulder. “Get going.”

“But-”

“Go.” He repeated, more firmly this time.

Looking mad, she slammed the coffee mug on the table and grabbed her bag from the floor. As she walked up to Jeonghan and tried to plant a kiss on his cheek, he turned his face away, “Don’t cross the line. Get out.”

Huffing she left, the sound of the front door closing resounding behind her. Jeonghan turned to you, rolling his eyes, looking at you like you’ll understand. “The audacity when she can’t even deepthroat without gagging.”

You didn’t understand. You didn’t want to understand. You just wanted him to stop saying these kind of things. Please please please shut up.

When he walked away, yawning and stretching, you grabbed the coffee mug, nearly crying at the sight of a neat brown ring of coffee imprinted on the paper.

Oh yeah, Yoon Jeonghan had to go.

Now you would have told all this to the boys but you knew they would tell you to ‘adjust for a few days’ and as always, you'd give in, regardless of the fact that you wanted this man’s entire existence obliterated from your life. So you decided to handle things differently now - you would get Jeonghan out of your house without the boys realising you had a hand in it - that way you'd be free and they couldn't blame you. You weren’t quite sure how to go about this plan but that was until you went to the grocery store in the afternoon to buy some ingredients for lunch.

The biggest drawback of this suburb was that there was barely anyone below the age of twenty who could help you out with your predicament except for the cashier's grandson, Minguk. Minguk lived in the city, but over the weekends, he came to help his grandmother, greeting you every time you crossed paths. You weren’t really close friends but he was always nice to you, helping you reach things from the higher shelves, offering to carry heavier items to your house. If anyone here could recognise Jeonghan and help you out, it had to be him.

That’s why when you went to the shop, you told the old lady you needed a big bag of rice, twenty five kgs of it for some big rice starch cloth experiment, asking if Minguk could drop by later and bring it to your house. She agreed happily, stating she would get him to do it the moment he came in the evening and you left, waiting for said evening and said moment to arrive.

Your prediction for the events that would follow today went somewhat like this - Minguk would come home, notice and recognise Jeonghan, ask you to get behind him while they fought and Minguk would knock down Jeonghan’s skinny ass stick figure, then make sure to hand Jeonghan to the police while you sadly told BooSeokSoon it was unfortunate that things unfolded this way.

Now for this whole plan to be successful, you needed Soonyoung to get out of the house as soon as possible because Minguk could come any moment now. Hence you resorted to answering all of the former’s questions with short, simple replies, hoping this conversation would end fast.

“No he’s not still bothering me.” “You sure? You-” “Absolutely.” “Again, we’re sorry that this-” “No worries.” Soonyoung frowned, confused at your curt answers. “Where is he now?” “Bathroom, showering I think.” “What did he do before lunch?” “Waited for lunch.” “What did he do after lunch?” “Nothing.” You shrugged. “Claimed he was bored, sat in my home office and watched me sketching for hours together.” “He was…. just watching you?” “Not the whole time, he fell asleep in between…”

You recalled how hearing his soft snores, you looked up from your work, eyes falling on him leaning back against the bean bag, drifted off in a pleasant slumber. As you glanced at him, noticing just how sharp his jaw was and how high his cheekbones sat, his lips curled into a small smile. You’re giving me that look again, princess. After that, you didn’t take your eyes off your work even once.

“I think he fell asleep?”

“Did you get any sleep?” Soonyoung looked over your shoulder at your bedding still on the couch. “Did he… you know, bring someone last night too?”

You nodded, but brushed it off immediately. “It’s fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I promised you guys 10 days, I’ll deliver.”

Soonyoung looked relieved, before he glanced at his watch, face morphing in worry. “It’s nearly peak hour, I gotta go back to the restaurant.”

You agreed to him, assuring him you were fine when he asked you again, waving goodbye as you shut the door behind him.

Minguk would be here any minute now, and if all went well, you’d finally be free again.

Day 3 of 10

All did not go well.

In complete contrast to what you had imagined, here you were, yet again cooking lunch for Jeonghan, still absolutely sleep deprived and there he was, lying sprawled on your couch, going through your books, just like yesterday. Only difference was, Seokmin was on call, the sound of him chewing his apple ringing in your ears.

As you moved around to make Kalguksu, Jeonghan’s order of the day, Seokmin spoke into your ear. “So you're saying he's not too bad to live with?”

Bad? Bad was an understatement. Living with Yoon Jeonghan was the absolute worst. Just this morning, when you had stepped out to check your mailbox, your neighbour coincidentally returned from her morning walk, greeting you with a hard smile, asking why you looked so tired. You told her you had a lot of orders to work on, claiming you had to stay up all night to finish it and to that she said, “Yes, I think everyone in this building can tell what exactly you are doing staying up all night.”

Never in your life before that statement did you want to be swallowed by concrete. You knew last night must’ve been particularly more noticeable because the women so far were moaners but this one….. Oh she was a screamer; so loud not even your pillow could save you. Thank god she was gone by the morning but so was a very treasured dress of yours, one you gifted by your mother. When Jeonghan woke up, he mumbled something about how her clothes tore, and she grabbed something from your cupboard before he went off to take a shower.

“Yes, he’s not too bad.” You replied, glad Seokmin couldn't see your sarcastic expression.

“I had a feeling he was a chill guy from the first time we saw him-” Seokmin continued to loudly chew on call. “-he seems kinda calm and knowledgeable?”

Yes, if only Seokmin heard all the 'instructions' Jeonghan loved to give his lady friends at night, he would know just how knowledgeable this man was. Although he did say something that you were thinking about for a while now…

“Min.” You slid onto the kitchen counter. “Do you think Minguk has a crush on me?”

“Minguk as in supermart granny’s grandson Minguk?” Seokmin chuckled. “Yeah, obviously, a mega huge one.”

“What?” You looked at your phone betrayed. “How could you not tell me?”

“I assumed you knew and didn’t care?” Seokmin sounded nonchalant. “Since you know, he already has a girlfriend?”

That’s what you had said too, last night when Minguk came over and all did not go well.

Initially, it was going according to plan though. A few moments after Soonyoung left, Minguk arrived at your door, carrying a huge sack of rice, half panting as he smiled at you. Given that Jeonghan was still in the bathroom, you engaged him in casual conversation, hoping the man who usually showered in under 5 minutes, would finally come out after the two hours he had been holed up in there. Just as you were running out of stupid questions to ask, Minguk looked over your shoulder, forehead slowly pulling together in a frown as you heard footsteps behind you. Finally finally finally, please help me-

“Who is that?” He pointed, looking confused. Did he not recognise….?

You turned, as Jeonghan approached you, your eyes widening as they landed on him - he had dyed his golden blonde hair into a dark jet black, the length of it also a lot shorter now, the pieces framing his face pushed back in a way even you could barely recognise him. You continued staring as he walked over, throwing his arm around your shoulder, glancing at Minguk.

“And who is this?”

Tearing your eyes away from him, you looked at Minguk, almost at a loss of words, “T-this is Minguk, he works um in the supermarket nearby, he’s my friend and this is uh….” You gulped, the weight of Jeonghan’s hand heavy on your shoulder. “This is-”

“Come on, don’t be shy.” Jeonghan laughed. “Hi….friend? I’m the boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Minguk looked at you just as surprised as you looked at him. “I didn’t know…”

Neither did you.

“Yeah we’ve been doing long distance for a while now, I just got back recently.” Jeonghan answered like it was a matter of fact when a few days back, you didn't even know of his existence.

After that Minguk, who always said bye to you with a cheery wave, mumbled that he had to go and left, without sparing you a second glance.

“What an idiot.” Jeonghan chuckled as he let you go, walking into the house. “Men who don’t have the guts to be honest with the woman they like are not worth anyone’s time.”

“I’m sorry what?” You frowned, closing the door and following him. “The woman they like?”

Jeonghan looked at you incredulously. “You didn’t know? He was literally making heart eyes, his drool is probably outside on the floor-”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“So?” He shrugged.

“So he can’t possibly like me??”

Jeonghan looked at you amused. “You’re dense as hell princess, there’s so much I could teach you.” and with that he walked away leaving you baffled, which was not how you expected events to turn out yesterday.

As Seokmin went on and on about how Minguk wasn’t being fair to his girlfriend, you zoned out, mind wandering on something else entirely. You needed a new, revised plan, one that was guaranteed to get Jeonghan out of your life and this time, you swore you wouldn’t fail.

Day 4 of 10

Plan B failed just as miserably as plan A.

You had promised yourself to get Jeonghan out of your life, but all you managed to do was get him out of the house.

That was part of the plan though, him stepping out was vital but somehow, as though luck loved him and despised you, things worked out in his favour yet again.

Plan B was a long and elaborate one, one that you worked on really hard, starting from last night.

Last night, you got into your couch tired as hell, but determined not to sleep, eyes wide open in the darkness. Around 1am, you heard the sound of feet shuffling as Jeonghan’s silhouette walked past you, opening the door, letting yet another girl into your house. As the two of them moved towards your room, bodies and tongues tangled, shutting the bedroom door behind them, you immediately got up, rushing to your office room. Looking up the posters of Jeonghan on the internet, you quickly printed out a bunch of them, silently donned your jacket and a mask and left your house in the dead of the night. It took you nearly 3 hours but by the end of it you had put up those posters along all the streets of the suburb and had barely just returned and got under the covers when the bedroom door opened and Jeonghan’s companion of the night left your house. Confident that by daybreak, everyone in the neighborhood would know Jeonghan’s face and there would at least be someone smarter than Minguk who could look past the changed hair colour, you slept happily, after a long time.

But you were rudely awakened by the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, whispering right by your ear.

“Be honest. You don’t actually want me to leave do you?”

Your eyes flew open only to find his face hovering above yours, inches away. You held your breath as his hand rested on your waist, fingers tracing over the sliver of skin exposed by your shirt having ridden up.

“You’re scared of what I do to you.” He smirked, lips teasingly close to yours. “But I could do so many wonderful things to you princess.”

You gasped as you felt his fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, inching closer and closer to the desperate hot and wet feeling between your legs. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him…. You didn’t want to. As he slipped a finger in, groaning about how tight you were, your eyes flew open, meeting the cracks on the ceiling above.

Petrified, you sat up, forehead and neck drenched in sweat as though every nerve ending was on fire. Did you just have a wet dream about Yoon Jeonghan??

Oh he had to leave. He had to leave as soon as possible. This plan had to work.

And you really thought it would when you were going to buy lunch (today he wanted clam chowder which was way beyond your expertise) and he insisted on following you to get it since he was getting bored at home. You thought the entire universe had finally channelised its energy into helping you get rid of him.

You could not have been more wrong.

Turned out that in the few hours you had spent happily sleeping, it rained cats and dogs, obliterating nearly every single piece of paper you had put up. Hours of your hard work was quite literally washed down the drain while Jeonghan happily walked out in the open right alongside dozens of people who had no idea who he was. On the contrary, they had a wilder assumption regarding who he might be - apparently your boyfriend.

The moment you’d stepped into the restaurant, all the old women who were your grandmother’s friends and loved to strike conversation with you, absolutely ignored your existence as they caught hold of ‘your boyfriend’, insisting that the two of you eat with them. You sat across Jeonghan, watching him talking and giggling with all the old ladies as they threw all sorts of questions at him. He answered, stuffing his mouth with food, spinning the most wonderful stories of your relationship, stories that made you almost wish they were true.

After he bid them all goodbye, which was nearly two hours later, he declared he wanted to play football in the big ground where all the ladies had mentioned their visiting grandkids were playing. You took him there, sitting on the sidelines and watching this man twice their height, tackling all the little kids effortlessly, laughing - not sadistically, just happily, enjoying himself. At that moment somehow, he felt so ordinary, like any other normal person, like he could really have been your boyfriend, like this was really your life. You abandoned that thought the moment Jeonghan pulled you from the bench into the field, demanding that you play. Though you despised the idea of running around in half muddy fields, as always, you found yourself unable to say no to him, joining him and the kids in a game that was a lot more fun than you had anticipated. That was until it started pouring rain again, forcing all of you to run back to your homes, drenched from head to toe by the time you reached. The laughter in your chest fizzled out at the sight of Jeonghan shaking the wet droplets of his hair, his wet shirt sticking to his body, the outline of it unnecessarily obvious.

But I could do so many wonderful things to you princess.

Gulping, you left to dry yourself, heart racing behind its cage, not wanting to think of the dream. The rest of the evening you refused to so much as look at him, focusing on only on the one thing you were supposed to - Plan C.

Day 5 of 10

Plan C was short and simple and it was supposed to work like a charm.

To be honest, a part of you always had a feeling plan A and B wouldn’t work because BooSeokSoon were right - expecting anyone in this neighbourhood to know Jeonghan was stupid. So if nobody here recognised Jeonghan, you had to bring someone who recognised Jeonghan here. And that’s exactly what you did because just as you were washing the breakfast dishes and Jeonghan was asking for your help with something, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Police, open up.”

Finally.

After you had gotten up in the morning, under the pretext of getting milk, you went over to the closest public phone, calling the one and only police station nearby, the one over twenty five miles away. Trying to keep the message as anonymous and vague as possible, you spoke about how it seemed like something was not right in unit 84, your own apartment. With the fear of being identified, you didn't tell them anything else but clearly your half information was taken seriously because barely half an hour later, they were here at your door. Before you could wash your soapy hands and walk over the door, Jeonghan was already there, opening it.

You held your breath, staying hidden in the kitchen, peeking from behind the wall as the two men looked at each other. The expectation was a dramatic, movie-like scene where both men confronted each other with fists, maybe even guns but the reality, much to your surprise, was the complete opposite - they were both just talking, having a conversation you could barely hear from your hiding place. Could the cop also not recognise Jeonghan?

The answer was no, he could not. It was Jeonghan’s luck playing it’s hand once again because the moment the cop shook Jeonghan’s hand and left and the latter turned you, you noticed how the entire lower half of his face was lathered in layers of shaving foam rendering half his face completely hidden. You vaguely recalled he was asking you for help to shave, wondering what were the odds that the cop would turn up at this exact moment. Jeonghan’s luck was indeed your biggest enemy.

Inwardly crying about the fact that not only did he just dodge your biggest weapon, but you still had to continue doing menial work for him, you followed him to the bathroom. As you prepared the razor, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, peering at you curiously in the mirror.

“Why do you think the cop turned up at your house today?”

Trying not to let your hands shake, you shrugged. “How would I know?....What did he say?”

“Someone apparently called to complain about something strange going on in this house.”

You met his eye in the reflection, thinking fast. “I mean it is a quiet neighbourhood and the people around are really old so, I guess, maybe someone complained about, you know, all the noise at night….”

“But you don’t use the sewing machine at night?” Jeonghan frowned like he didn’t understand.

Clearing your throat, you turned to him. “Not me, it's you…and you know all the….” Making vague hand gestures you tried to explain your point. “....when the girls come and…”

“Sex?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, half laughing. “What are you, a prude? You can’t say the word sex?”

Shifting uneasily you looked away from him, mumbling. “I just don't think everything has to be said….”

Jeonghan didn't say anything to that, continuing to look at you just a little amused as you stood between his manspread, holding his jaw and tilting his head up. When his eyes met yours, a strange something flashing behind them, every cell in your body feeling hyper-alert. Gulping you slowly ran the blades along his cheek, your own cheeks heating up under his gaze, one that never left your face.

When you did a half turn to grab a towel, feet stumbling in the process, Jeonghan’s hands flew to grab your hips, stabilizing you. He didn't let go even after you had found your footing. He didn't let go even after you finished the task at hand.

“I'm done…” You mumbled, taking a step back and his grip on you finally loosened. Just for a second though, before he suddenly held your hand and stood up, face inches away from yours, eyes still on you the same way.

“What’s your deal princess?”

You gulped, looking away confused when he bent down, to your eye level, looking curious.

“You can't even bring yourself to say ‘sex’ but….” He ran his thumb across your lower lip, rubbing away a speck of foam that somehow seemed to have gotten there. “The way you look at me, there's something a lot darker behind those eyes. Which is the real you?”

You had no idea.

You really really had no idea.

Which is the real you?

Staring at the ceiling you pondered over Jeonghan’s question.

Was it the you who was thoroughly scandalized by the things Jeonghan kept saying and doing? Or the you who was lying on the couch wide awake at nearly 1am, trying to pretend like you weren’t listening to the same man absolutely ruin someone in your bed. You told yourself it wasn’t that you liked it, you were simply curious. As for why you had kept your legs pressed together, you had no answer, you most definitely were not turned on, no.

But strangely the discomfort between your legs only got worse, like a dull, desperate ache. Hesitating, you slipped your hand under the waistband of your underwear, fingers slowly inching downward, terrified of what you would discover. Your digits slid easily, given the fact that you were soaked, eyes shutting tight in embarrassment. This was so wrong and so inappropriate on so many levels….. quickly getting yourself together you rushed over to the bathroom, washing up, throwing cold water on your face to get you back into your senses. Getting it together and patting your face dry with your towel, you walked out, stepping into complete silence.

Frowning, you turned to the clock - usually, Jeonghan went on for hours together, giving you some peace of mind only around 3am in the morning - could they have been done already? Confused, you slowly moved towards the room door, pushing it softly, expecting to find Jeonghan fast asleep. Instead, you’re met with the sight of a woman on all fours, her head pressed into the mattress, muffling her sounds as Jeonghan railed her from behind, his hips snapping against hers at a ridiculous pace.

Now either you should have run away from there, or screamed and then run away from there but you did neither - instead you simply froze, eyes wide and unblinking, unable to move any part of your body. It became a whole lot worse when Jeonghan, whose face was contorted with focus, suddenly lifted his head, his vision finding you by the door. The only good thing that came from this was that somehow, you found your footing again, stumbling back, loudly shutting the door. Not knowing what else to do, you grabbed your jacket from the coat rack and quickly ran out of the house, ignoring the heavy pitter patter of the rain. Thank god the boys are still sitting at the restaurant, gathered around a table, laughing away. You walked in, ready to cry out of embarrassment and dissolve in your embarrassment.

“Okay, let’s calm down a little.” Seokmin reached for your glass, prying it out of your hands slowly, earning a glare from you.

“I need it. I need to drown in my sorrows.” You looked over your shoulder at the lady who was sitting at the table alone, hiccuping at her fourth bottle of beer. “Like her.”

“What’s the deal with that woman?” Seungkwan muttered looking over. “She’s been here for hours.”

“Something about her crush being kissed by his best friend.” Soonyoung shrugged. “Apparently the other girl dared her to watch.”

“Ouch.” You grimaced, thoroughly impressed. “God I wish I could be like that.”

“You are like that.” Seungkwan pointed at all the bottles of soju in front of you.

“Not her, the other one.” You clicked your tongue, not hearing the restaurant door opening behind you. “I wish I was daring like that. Gutsy enough to put people in their place, to say what’s on my mind, to tell Yoon Jeonghan to stop fucking other people in my bed-”

“Would you rather I fuck you?”

You turned quickly, a chill running down your spine as you found Jeonghan right behind, bent over to whisper into your ear. All three boys before you looked with their jaws hung. Turning away from him, unable to meet his eyes, you mumbled something even you didn’t understand.

Jeonghan smiled. “Doesn’t sound like a no.”

“I could barely recognise you.” Seokmin looked at the man before him in awe, glancing over his not so new hairdo. “Black hair looks good on you.”

“I know.” Jeonghan agreed like it was a matter of fact before turning to you again. “The rain just stopped but looks like it might start again anytime soon, you should come home.”

You shook your head slowly.

“I’m amazed you know how to refuse.” Jeonghan chuckled. “But now’s not the time to; come home.”

“No.” You stood up, facing him. “I don’t want to go to your home.”

“Not mine, yours.”

“Oh yeah.” You looked at him spacey as Jeonghan tried to stop himself from laughing. “That’s my house. My room. My bed. What the hell are you doing there?”

“A new woman everyday apparently.” Soonyoung muttered, purposely looking away from Jeonghan.

“What kind of person does that?” You poked his chest, slurring. “A-and the way you talk to them? Who says things like that?”

“Okay, we can discuss this at home. It’s 3am, get up-”

“It’s 3???” Seungkwan quickly turned at the clock on the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck we have to close up.”

The boys quickly got to their feet, one gathering the trash, the other stacking the dishes and the other ushering the only other person in the store to leave. She got up, walking towards the entrance, wantonly tripping on her own feet and holding onto Jeonghan. Something in you wanted to smack her right across the head.

“Hi,” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I’m Yuri.”

“Hi,” Jeonghan pulled his arm from her grip. “I’m not interested.” He turned to you, blatantly ignoring the other girl’s existence. “Let’s go.”

You watched as the poor woman, looking close to tears, stormed out as you swayed and muttered. “I can’t. I can barely stand, forget walking.”

“Get on my back.” Jeonghan offered, making you laugh.

“Have you seen yourself?” You threw your jacket over your shoulders. “If you carry me, you’ll break. Like literally snap in half.”

“Huh.” Jeonghan inched closer to you, tucking his hands in his pocket. “There’s so much to teach you princess. Lesson number one, size does not matter.”

Yet again, you found yourself burning under his gaze, words lost in your mouth which was opening and closing like a fish. Sighing, Jeonghan swooped down faster than you could register his movement, grabbing you by the knees, throwing you over his shoulder. Shrieking, you protested, trying to get him to put you down but he simply ignored you, walking away as your friends watched, thoroughly shocked.

Within minutes he had you in your house, putting you down in your bathroom, letting you sit on the edge of the bathtub as he grabbed your towel. Standing before you, he tilted your head up, softly rubbing the towel into your hair, drying it. You tried to avoid his eye, looking everywhere but him and that small amused smile on his face, only looking at him when he finally spoke.

“What’s your name?”

You scoffed. “You lived in my house for 5 days, ate my food, slept in my bed, and you don’t know my name?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Why is it necessary now?”

He smiled. “If you want me to fuck you, I need to know your name princess.”

“God.” You pulled away from him. “I didn’t say I want you to… to…”

“There we go again.” He sighed. “The celestial prude returns.”

“I’m not a prude, don’t call me that.” You pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I’ll have you know I have….” You cleared your throat, the volume of your voice considerably lowering. “I have slept with a man before. More than once. In fact, I have also slept with two men at the same time.”

Jeonghan raised his eyebrow like he didn’t believe it.

“Okay fine, one of them was just watching…...” You rolled your eyes. “But there were two, my boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - and his friend-”

“Did you agree to that?”

Somehow Jeonghan’s voice was a lot harder now, catching you off guard.

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you agreed for your boyfriend’s friend to watch?”

“I….” You stuttered, looking around. “I didn’t say no.”

“Princess, you never say no.” Jeonghan crouched before you, looking serious. “But that doesn’t mean it's a yes.”

You stared at him unsure what to say. That was a night you never thought about again - you always thought it was maybe because you were embarrassed but perhaps…..a part of you was trying to forget it ever happened.

“You asked me who says the kind of things I do in bed, right? I say them because the women I’m with want me to, they enjoy it. But what you just told me,” Jeonghan shook his head. “Did you want that?”

“I…I don’t know.” You confess. You didn’t ever question yourself like Jeonghan was. “He didn’t ask and I didn’t think I could say no-”

“You can always say no.” Jeonghan insisted, holding your hands. “If you don’t want something, you should say no. The same way, if you want something, you should ask for it, unashamed.”

“Then I… I want you..…” You whispered, unsure whether you should say it, not noticing the way Jeonghan's eyes darkened instantly. Taking a deep breath, you continued. “I want you…. to stop sleeping in my bed. I want you to stop wearing the clothes I design. I want you to stop making me cook for you-”

“Okay wow we’re spiraling-”

“I want you to stop making me clean after you, to stop treating me like your personal assistant, I mean what kind of man doesn’t know how to shave-”

“The kind who’s always had people to do these things for him so he doesn’t really know how to do anything.” He muttered, sighing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it too much, I should’ve been more mindful of how I was being…. but now that you told me-” He got up. “-I won’t bother you, and on the off chance that I do, and you wish for me to leave, I will do so immediately, I promise.”

You nodded slowly, both amazed that you managed to get all of that off your chest and that he took it all really well. He continued to look at you like you were both fascinating and funny.

“What?”

“You still haven’t told me your name by the way.”

Half laughing you did and he repeated it, your name rolling off his tongue in a way that made something in your stomach flip.

“I’m going to grab whatever clothes of yours I can find.” He walked up to the door, turning to you. “Please change, you’ll fall sick if you sleep in wet clothes.”

With that he left, and that was the last thing you remembered.

Day 6 of 10

Today you woke up in the bathtub.

The twisted form that you slept in obviously resulted in stiff joints and pains all over but it was falling asleep in drenched clothes that caused the continuous sneezing that followed. Dragging yourself out of the bathroom, you slowly walked into your house, meeting a strange silence - Jeonghan wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Feeling too weak to even wonder where he was, you dragged yourself to the couch, sinking into it, eyes fluttering shut. No more than five minutes later, you were awakened by the feeling of a cold hand on your forehead, making you jump at the suddenness. Jeonghan peered at you shaking his head.

“Great, you’ve got a fever.” He clicked his tongue. “I was gone for two minutes last night and you fell asleep in the tub.”

“Should’ve woken me up.”

“Believe me, I tried but you wouldn’t even budge and it wasn’t like I could just carry you out of there.” He turned away muttering as you raised your eyebrows in faux surprise. “Okay, just carrying you once almost broke my back, so yeah, I admit it, I’m weak.”

You burst out laughing, doubling over into a coughing fit as Jeonghan handed you a bottle of water, smiling almost fondly.

“What do you want to eat for lunch?”

“You’re going to make lunch?”

“Don’t get used to it, only cause you’re sick.”

You pondered, leaning back into the pillows. “Something hot and with soup would be great actually.”

“Can you shower and change out of those clothes in the meantime?”

You whined, shaking your head, body drained of all its energy.

“Come on.” Jeonghan pulled you up from the couch, struggling as he did. “Wash up.”

Stumbling to the bathroom, you did, albeit much slower than usual but a hot shower made all the difference in the world. You didn’t want to leave the warmth and maybe you wouldn’t have if the landline wasn’t constantly ringing. Groaning you wrapped a towel around you, dragging yourself to the phone, picking it up.

“Where the hell is your phone?” Seungkwan scolded you from the other side. “Why won’t you pick up?”

“On silent somewhere I guess.” You mumbled, looking around. “What’s wrong?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay-”

“I’m okay.”

“-and also wanted to tell you that your dream shop? It’s up for lease.”

You immediately straightened out, tiredness suddenly vanishing. “You mean the one down two streets? The one I've been waiting to get my hands on for months?”

“Yes and yes and the price they’ve quoted is actually manageable.” Seungkwan sounded excited. “If us boys add a few thousand each to your 25K, I think you can actually afford it.”

Your face softened. “You… you guys would do that for me?”

“Of course, you’re our best friend Y/n, that’s the least we can do.” Twisting the cord of your phone, you glanced at it fondly. “Besides, you're the one who Jeonghan is living with, it's only fair….”

As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, hands filled with bags, shooting you a surprised look. You looked back at him, both happy and conflicted. While you had been trying to get rid of Jeonghan behind your friend’s backs, they were so willing to go above and beyond for you. And the Jeonghan you so desperately were trying to paint as the big pain in your life, was here, offering to cook and look after you - did that mean you were the terrible one here?

As Seungkwan hung up citing he had to go, Jeonghan walked up to you, looking worried.

“All good?”

“Yeah I just…. My dream might come true and I don’t know how to react.”

"Dream come true?"He leaned closer, whispering into your ear. “I don't recall actually agreeing to fuck you…”

He looked at your towel clad body up and down, making you gulp and quickly walk away, gripping the material tight, him laughing behind you.

When you returned in a fresh pair of pajamas to a Jeonghan who was busy bustling away in the kitchen, singing a song softly, he asked what dream you were talking about.

“There's this space I've wanted to own for a long time now.” You sat down at the breakfast bar, head perched on interlocked hands. “It's up for lease and I might have the money to finally own it.”

“Congratulations princess.” Jeonghan looked up from his busy stirring, shooting you a smile. “That sounds great.”

You nodded, continuing to feel all too happy. “I still can't believe it, I think I might pass out.”

“Yes you might after eating this too.” He looked at you frazzled, “I might have added too much spice.”

“Is it that bad….”

You trailed away when he held out a blob of the marinade on his finger, hand extended towards you. Hesitating, you leaned closer, taking his finger in your mouth, lips wrapping around his digit and pulled off with a pop. Your eyes didn't leave him the whole time, neither did his.

Clearing your throat, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It's fine actually, I can take it.”

Jeonghan didn’t reply to that, simply turning back to his work silently. In the remaining 2 hours he spent cooking and flipping through the cookbook pages, he didn’t talk or so much as look at you. Even when the two of you were eating and you complimented his food, he just gave a short nod. It was only when everything was done and he cleared the table that he finally spoke, telling you to rest for a bit. You told him you were behind a lot of projects and orders and had to work, and that’s when he turned to you exasperated,

“You’re sick, you can take a day off.”

“There's nothing else to do anyway.” You mumbled. “And I don’t want to sleep again, I just woke up.”

Jeonghan hummed, putting away the dishes before turning to you. “Wanna build something?”

You watched confused as he unpacked the remaining bags he brought home earlier, pulling out boxes of Legos.

“I wanna make a nice little space for Doljjong.”

“Who?” You looked around, almost terrified. “Please don’t tell me you brought home a cat-”

He pulled out a rock from his pocket, looking all too pleased. “Doljjong, my new pet.”

“That’s a rock.”

“And?” He looked at it, stroking the soft surface. “I found it while playing football yesterday. Even the kids agreed it was perfect.”

You burst out laughing at his silliness as he continued to insist how it was the perfect pet and how he had found the perfect Lego sets to build it the perfect small home.

That’s how most of the remaining day went - the two of you building Doljjong’s new residence. Actually, it was mostly Jeonghan at work, insisting that you were sick and slow and should just watch him. So that’s what you did, leaning against the couch, sipping on the hot tea he made you, munching on the snacks he bought, watching him giggle away, making his creation.

As the sun began to set outside, you looked at him in the soft golden light, at how simple and ordinary he looked. Maybe you could bear him for another 4 days, maybe you didn’t have to feel so terrified around him. Or perhaps you should feel more scared now that you were comfortable around him….

Even as you sat next to him snuggling on your couch with afternoon’s leftovers warmed up for dinner, you could only think about how you kinda wished he was here for longer, which was kind of insane - just a day ago you were desperate to have him out of here but now? Now you had to admit to yourself that the only reason left on the long list of ‘Why Jeonghan Must Go’ was the way he made you feel, even when he was just sitting across you, eating and watching tv. God this was embarrassing….

When you finally put your thoughts behind you, getting ready to sleep in your usual place, Jeonghan offered that you take the bed but you refused, mumbling something about not washing the sheets. Laughing, Jeonghan sat back on his end of the couch, settling with a jacket wrapped around him.

“You're gonna be here all night?” You looked at him surprised.

“Yeah.” He shut his eyes, leaning back. “Just in case you need anything.”

“Why?” You glanced at him. “I mean everything today, why did you….”

“I know what it's like to not have anyone care when you're sick.” Sighing, he turned to look at you. “I've always had people at my beck and call but they always worked for me like it was their job, because I was their boss. It never really felt like any of them cared and sometimes, that hurt. But I've come to terms with that, that's just what it's like in this job.”

“Why….” You hesitated but decided to take a shot anyway. “Why did you choose this profession then? I mean, what compelled you…”

“Compelled?” Jeonghan chuckled, looking away and shutting his eyes again. “If you're looking for a good-boy-forced-by-circumstances-to-go-bad kinda story I'm afraid I'm not the one for it, princess.”

“If it wasn't a compulsion, was it your choice….”

“I've never really been afraid to ask and get what I want.” He smiled. “Somewhere in that process this is who I became.”

“Is it that easy to just…. go for what you want?”

“It usually is when you don't care about the consequences that may follow so yeah, it has been easy for me.” He paused, like he was mulling over something. “So far.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he leaned over, tucking you properly under the sheets.

“Enough questions for today. You need rest.” He snuggled further on his end, a small smile dancing on his lips. “Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight…..Jeonghan.”

Day 7 of 10

Of all the ways you had imagined, one would think you'd wake up to Jeonghan, this was not one of them.

He was still fast asleep seated on his end of the couch, head leaned back, mouth slightly askew, his breathing soft and deep. Only noticeable thing was his hand on your thigh like a comforting weight - you vaguely remembered him gently patting you as you broke into a coughing fit in the middle of the night. Dragging yourself to sit up, you continued to stare at him, taking in all the beautiful features - he looked just like he did the day you first saw him. Maybe you would've given in to the temptation and run your finger across the delicate angles of his face if the landline didn't ring so loudly, both pulling you back and waking him up.

Muttering an apology you quickly picked up the call, only to be met by the even louder voice of your mother.

“You're sick!?”

“Hi mom, yeah, I was sick.” You mumbled frowning. “….how did you know?”

“Why didn't you tell me? I would've come, brought you some sides, made you something to eat-”

“Please stop screaming.” You groaned. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Don't tell me what to do young woman. How can I not scream when I find out my sick daughter is being taken care of by a boyfriend whose existence I'm not even aware of.”

You immediately sat up. “W-what?”

“Yeah, imagine my surprise when Minguk's grandmother told me you weren't well but I wasn't to worry because your ‘very caring boyfriend’ is looking after you well.”

You looked at Jeonghan who seemed to be able to hear everything given the volume your mother was talking in.

“Mom I can explain-”

“Save it. I'm coming home.”

“Mom-”

And with that she cut the call, sending your heartbeat racing.

“Fuck fuck fuck-”

“Calm down princess.”

“You calm down!” You snapped back stupidly, running your hands through your hair. “I'm sorry, it's just, my mom is…. a hawk. She's going to figure things out-”

“You think she’ll call the cops on me?”

“No, no that. She hates watching the news, I'm sure she has no idea who you are but she’s definitely going to know we-” you pointed between the two of you. “-aren't a thing.”

“Hey I made your supermart boy believe it.” Jeonghan shrugged, leaning back. “And every old woman in a 2km radius.”

“Yeah well my mother isn't one of those women. She's hella observant and nosy and most importantly, she knows me. She knows I wouldn't be with someone like you.”

“Wow,” Jeonghan let out a low whistle. “This is starting to become offensive, princess.”

“No…” You turned to him. “No no no. What I mean is, you're not exactly the gentle, sweet boyfriend kind right? I mean… you know what I mean right?”

Jeonghan smiled at you like he was enjoying this. “No, I don't.”

“You do.” You muttered, knowing well that he was pushing you into a spot. “The way you’re with women, it isn’t how boyfriends are really, or at least how my mum would expect my boyfriend to be.”

“It’s not like I’m going to talk dirty to you in front of her.”

Feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, you looked away. “No I mean… you just seem so much more….bad boy kinds and I’ve never been the kind to date someone like you, someone who’s not-”

“A prince wearing a shining armor on a white horse who comes to save the day?”

Yes exactly that, as evident by the many drawings in your childhood journal but Jeonghan did not need to know that.

“-someone who’s not very gentlemanly?”

“So what do you want me to do? Bow to your mother, kiss her hand, ask for your hand in marriage-”

“I said gentle, not archaic.” You rolled your eyes.

“Do you really want that though?” He turned to you, head cocked in question. “A man who is gentle?”

You tried to avoid his gaze knowing he would read your answer to that like an open book.

“Of course. I'm….I'm a suburban girl with a boring, uneventful life. I…obviously want someone who's soft and sweet and-”

“Show me.”

You turned to him so fast and so wide eyed, you were sure a vessel had burst somewhere.

“Show me how you want to be loved.”

Stuttering and at an absolute loss of words, you continued staring at him stupidly. Chuckling softly, like always, Jeonghan leaned close.

“If we need to convince your mother, then you're going to have to teach me what you like, princess.”

Gulping you blinked at him, eyes flickering to his lips. He watched you with raised eyebrows as you hesitatingly mirrored his lean, closing the space between the two of you and gently pressed your mouth onto his.

Uncharacteristically, Jeonghan froze.

His sudden stiffness instantly brought you back to your senses, making you pull away, ready to apologise and banish yourself into your room forever but before a word could leave your mouth, Jeonghan quickly captured it again, sighing into the kiss, lips moving unnaturally soft.

“Well,” He muttered as he drew back and your eyes met his. “When I said show me, I meant show me what you wanted me to do to convince your mother about us? I didn’t think this was a part of that-”

“Good god.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands and yourself in the couch. What the hell did you just do?

“Hey.” Chuckling, Jeonghan pulled your hands away, looking at you keenly. “Be honest with me though, is this really how you like it?”

For some reason, the question seemed rhetorical, like he knew the answer already. Not entirely honest, you nodded slowly.

“Huh.” He leaned closer, like he was challenging your answer. “Do you want to know how I like it?”

“Yes.”

You’re not really sure how or why that word left your mouth so quickly but clearly, Jeonghan didn’t care. Before you knew it, he ran his hand up your thigh, pulling you onto his lap with an ease you did not expect from him.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear with one hand, gripping your waist with the other. “You don’t-”

“Please.” You whispered back and that was all it took for him to hold your face and pull you down onto his mouth, lips ravenous against yours. As your hands fisted the material of his shirt, his slipped in your hair, gripping it in a way that surprisingly didn’t hurt. Rather it felt good, like you wanted him to guide you the way he wanted, the way he liked, in any way he needed you to submit to him. As his hand ran down your back, his tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting like a mistake, a scandal and a terrible decision all at once but somehow you couldn’t stop. Even when he pulled back to breathe, you descended upon him immediately, oxygen be damned because for the first time in forever, something in you was truly alive. Smirking against your lips Jeonghan grabbed your ass, rocking you against him, the outline of his hard length evident under you. You moaned very audibly when he broke away, placing a line of kisses down your neck while your hands, out of their own will, began unbuttoning your shirt.

“Fuck princess, I knew you had a wild side.” He muttered against your skin, tongue running along the bruise he had made.

You had no idea. You had no idea an animal as hungry as this was inside you - the dull feeling that you had been getting between your legs all these days was turning into a terribly unbearable ache. You could not ignore it anymore.

“I need you-” You gasped, not expecting his mouth on the swell of your breasts. “I need your help, please Jeong-”

And perhaps he would’ve helped if not for the sound of the lock turning.

Your mother stood outside, balancing the bags in her hand, struggling to open the door with her spare set of keys. When she had managed to unlock the door and swing it open, she was met with the sight of her child and her apparent boyfriend sitting side by side expectantly. She however did not notice the mismatched buttoning of your shirt, or Jeonghan’s red, flushed expression or your hand awkwardly covering something on your neck.

“Mom, you’re here, what a surprise.” Smiling wide and fake, you walked up to the woman setting her bags down on the kitchen counter, frowning at you.

“I let you know I was coming like half an hour ago.”

“Right.” You mumbled as Jeonghan joined, standing beside you. Getting a hold of yourself, you moved to stand next to your mother putting some much needed distance between you and the man you were practically dying to jump. “This is uh, Jeonghan. He’s… he’s actually…”

“The boyfriend.” Jeonghan and your mother answered at the same time, taking each other aback.

“Well, well.” Your mother looked at him up and down in scrutiny before breaking into a smile. “Something tells me you and I are going to get along great, Jeonghan. I want to hear all about how the two of you met.”

If there is anything you’ve learnt about Jeonghan today, it was that he was an excellent storyteller. Honestly, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was one of those people who wrote fanfictions on the internet as a hobby because wow did he have the talent for it.

As you were putting away all the things your mother bought you and he told her the apparent story of how the two of you met, you too listened in awe, stopping your work and staring at him, amazed. Your mother kept laughing, asking why you were behaving like you were listening to this story for the first time when you actually lived it. Laughing weakly you continued to listen, trying to look less awestruck.

You’re not quite sure how Jeonghan learned the idea of romance within minutes because strangely, the story he made up was nothing short of a fairytale, one that had absolutely convinced your mother.

“Oh Hannie.” She cooed, rubbing his arm. “I’m so glad my baby found you. There could not have been anyone more perfect.”

As she looked at you fondly over her shoulder, Jeonghan shot you a triumphant smirk. You returned their looks with a hard smile of your own.

The rest of the day went pretty the same way - Your mother busied herself with making you some soup and dishes for lunch while Jeonghan stood nearby, entertaining her with his words and stories. Neither of them seemed to notice how you were doing. For one, you were feeling extremely hot - it was a cool day yet you were sweating like crazy, your cheeks were hot, and just the fabric of your clothes touching your skin felt weirdly uncomfortable. You were also strangely jumpy - every time Jeonghan so much as passed by you or his hand accidentally brushed any part of your skin, you would react like you were touched by a few hundred volts of electricity. The worst thing of them all was having to sit next to him during lunch - sure it was easier when you didn’t have to look at him eye to eye but the soft kisses on your cheek and forehead??? The wiping of food on the edge of your mouth??? The constant brushing of your hair away from your face?? It was all getting a little too unbearable.

And it didn’t help that you were already incredibly wet from your little escapade earlier, your panties sticking to you uncomfortable throughout all of this, only getting wetter if that were even possible.

Jeonghan seemed to have finally noticed your situation way too late in the day.

After lunch your mom took over the entertainment, showing Jeonghan pictures of you as a kid, telling him all your embarrassing stories. Soon, the sun set outside and usually, your mother, who liked to leave before it was too dark, insisted she wanted to have dinner with her daughter’s boyfriend. That was how the three of you found yourself in your usual bbq place with Seokmin, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, all looking at you, wide eyed.

Perhaps it was the many hours that she spent with Jeonghan today or watching him interact with your three best friends so casually or looking at him play with the cats in the neighborhood, by the time your tipsy mother made it back to your apartment, she could not stop gushing about how Jeonghan was the best thing that ever happened to you. The praises only stopped when she finally resorted to the bathroom for a long, hot shower, leaving you standing and looking out of the balcony, finally alone, finally at peace.

That didn’t last for long as Jeonghan stood beside you, trying to figure out what you were so intently staring at.

“Gotta give it to you.” You scoffed. “I was worried my mom would doubt us but you’re a natural.”

“It helped that it was you.”

Confused, you turned to him.

“I mean, the little demonstration of what you pretend to like and what you really like kinda helped.” He smirked.

Knowing he was trying to put you on the spot again, you looked away, “You think you know everything….”

“I do. You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been incredibly turned on since our little make out session?” You froze, unable to take your eyes off the empty street. “I could smell the arousal on you all day princess and quite frankly, it’s been driving me crazy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled, trying to leave only to be pulled back as Jeonghan trapped you between him and the railing before you.

His fingers ran down your arm slowly, “Are you telling me if I were to slip my hand between your legs, I won’t find you soaking wet?”

“Jeonghan please.” You whispered. “Y-you can’t say such things-”

“You could admit it….or I could check for myself.”

It was like the words were stuck in your throat, the shame not letting you say anything. To begin with it was already embarrassing enough to come to terms with the fact that you were immensely attracted to this man, you have been since you laid eyes on him, but to admit that he had you desperate for him all day and wanted him in any and all ways possible? That was entirely a whole other level of mortification.

Jeonghan let out a breath, muttering in your ear. “I can’t help you if you won’t ask me to.”

You gulped. “So begging really gets you off huh?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to.” He smiled, his fingers running across the elastic of your bottoms. “You just need to say the word. Say you want this. Say you want me.”

When you didn’t respond to him despite a whole minute passing by, he let out a deep breath, stepping back with an understanding nod. Given how just that minimal distance between the two of you made your stomach drop, you finally cracked, holding him by the hand, pulling him back to press against your back. Holding your breath you dragged his hand, guiding it once again along the elastic of your pants.

You couldn’t see but Jeonghan looked at you concerned. “Here?”

“If you don’t touch me right now I might just cry.” You muttered, thankful you couldn’t see what you assumed would be a triumphant expression, pushing his hand further down, past the hem of your underwear. “Please Jeonghan.”

Two very long and frustrating heartbeats later, he finally angled his hand, moving further down.

“Fuck.” He groaned as his digits met the slick between your folds. “Were you this soaked all day?”

You nodded, whispering. “Been aching…...”

“Trust me, not more than I have.” He moved closer to you, pressing against your back, his erection confirming his words. The thought of potentially feeling that inside you made your mouth practically water, as you pressed your legs closer, squeezing his hand in between them.

Jeonghan’s finger grazed over your clit, making you keen and hold onto the railing for dear life.

“Please.” That was all you could say with the way his fingers were teasing your entrance. “Please, please, please-”

Jeonghan covered your mouth with his free hand, pulling you back against his chest, whispering gruffly. “Save the begging for next time y/n.”

Next time?

You gulped, body taut with anticipation, mind still reeling over his words as Jeonghan finally pushed in not one but two fingers at the same time, his thumb grazing over your clit simultaneously, your hand reflexively gripping his wrist. Maybe because you’ve been silently thirsting over this man for almost a week now, or because you have been inexplicably horny all day, or because you just realised that the two of you were quite literally doing this out in the open where anyone could catch you in the act but the moment Jeonghan’s fingers pushed all the way in and he pressed on your clit, your walls clamped around his digits, back arching against him, your moan held back by his hand against your mouth. As your orgasm washed over you in waves, you panted against him, trying to catch your breath, the stars in the night sky suddenly swarming in front of your eyes.

“Did…” For the first time ever, Jeonghan stuttered, like he was confused. “Did you just cum?”

Your arousal dripped down his fingers, giving him his answer.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He groaned. “or felt, rather.”

As the pleasurable feeling began to ebb and the embarrassment took over, you tried to pry yourself away from his grip only for him to hold you more firmly, further pushing his fingers in. Overstimulated, your protests came out muffled against his hand, as you unwittingly clamped around him again.

“Don’t.” He warned, head dipping to the crook of your neck, sighing. “God, you’d feel like heaven around me.” You smiled slightly at his words, just a little proud, making him chuckle. “You like the thought of that, don’t you?”

Given your new found bravado, you slowly nodded and Jeonghan pulled himself back with resolve. “It’s not very gentlemanly to fuck a woman after making her come just once.” Finally taking his hand off your mouth and sadly also pulling his fingers out you, he turned you around swiftly, pushing you up against the wall behind him. “Give me another one.” He muttered against your ear.

Although the post orgasm haze and more importantly, the post horny haze was receding and you were suddenly hyper aware that you were out in the open, Jeonghan’s deep voice, as he peppered kisses along your shoulder, “Come on, be good for me.”, made your decision.

Oh you could be so good for him.

Threading your fingers in his hair, you pressed yourself up against him, nodding almost too eagerly. Smiling against your skin, Jeonghan slipped his hand between your bodies, sliding his fingers past all the layers of cloth keeping you away from him. You sighed like you were drowning in ecstasy as his fingers found your hole again, wasting no time to push his fingers in, curling almost instantly. When you gasped at the feeling of him grazing that spot, Jeonghan covered your mouth with his free hand once again, pressing you against the wall.

“Not here.” He warned but his actions seemed to be trying to do the exact opposite, fingers pumping in and out of you fast, your eyes almost rolling back in pleasure. “After this we are going inside and you’re gonna choose where you want to get railed and there, you can scream all you want.”

You whined, both at the idea of him taking you on nearly every surface of your house and feeling everything inside you tighten once again. Jeonghan’s thumb began circling on your clit once again, making you squirm, knees almost buckling as you gripped his arm hard to steady yourself.

You could hear the sound of a plane flying high above, the beeping of a reversing car from somewhere below, the chatter from your neighbour’s television - somehow all of it exhilarated you. The thought of getting caught with Jeonghan knuckles deep inside you was weirdly, insanely hot…. until you heard the next sound - the bathroom door opening.

Quickly pulling Jeonghan’s hand from your mouth and pushing him back much to his surprise, you harshly whispered. “My mom!”

Jeonghan immediately pulled his hand away, giving you just enough time to adjust your pants and smoothen the crinkles on your clothes before your mother walked into the balcony looking for the two of you.

Yet again, you were both smiling at her, abnormally and unnaturally wide. She frowned but overlooked it, announcing her decision instead. “I’ll need an extra pillow for my back, I’m staying the night.”

Jeonghan and you exchanged looks at the unexpected news as the older woman narrowed her eyes at the two of you. “Is there a problem?”

“No….” You tore your eyes away from Jeonghan. “I was just trying to remember where the extra bedding is….”

“It’s at the bottom of your closet.” He muttered. “I’ll grab it.”

Jeonghan walked out of there quickly, not meeting your mother’s eyes as she leaned against the railing, looking out, saying something about how it was going to rain like crazy tonight.

You watched him disappear into the house and were about to turn your attention to your mother when he took a step back, catching your eye. As you raised your eyebrows in question, Jeonghan slipped two of his fingers into his mouth, yeah the two that were inside you moments ago, pulling them out with a pop. Laughing at your mortified expression, he walked away, leaving you with your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Tonight was far from over.

Day 8 of 10

Much to your disappointment, nothing else happened last night.

Excusing yourself from your mother, the first thing you did was to shower, hoping you’d feel somewhat less filthy after your escapade in the balcony. Surprisingly, more than feeling scandalized about the madness you had indulged in, you found yourself disappointed that you didn’t get the chance to cum on Jeonghan’s fingers again. Part of you wanted to finish off in the shower by yourself but you knew after Jeonghan, there was no way you could feel the same kind of high in your own - it was him or nothing.

By the time you had stepped out, Jeonghan had pillows and blankets piled up next to him on the couch and from the room, your mother called out to you. Shooting him a disappointed look which he returned, you retired to your room, sleeping next to her on your bed after a whole damn week.

That was perhaps why you woke up when it was way past 11 in the morning, body well rested after so long. When you stretched, walking out of your room, you could hear Jeonghan and your mother talking over the sound of what you guessed was them making breakfast.

“....that experience isolated my poor child.” You frowned hearing your mother’s voice. “After that she quit fashion school, moved away from everything she considered her world till that point-”

“Mom!” Walking over quickly, you interrupted the conversation. “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast.” She shrugged as Jeonghan walked up to you, placing a soft kiss on your temple, rubbing your arm like he sensed you were angry. “And telling Han about that shithead Bohyun-”

“Mom.” You spoke between gritted teeth. “There’s no need to talk about him early in the morning-”

“It’s half past 11-”

“Mom!” Looking at her exasperatedly, you crossed your arms. “Don’t you have to give grandma her medicines, what are you still doing here?”

“Would you look at that Han?” She looked at Jeonghan, shaking her head. “She’s throwing her own mother out of the house.”

“What? I’m not-”

“The disrespect I tell you.” She continued, ignoring you. “When all I wish is the best for her. I told her. I told her back then not to date that boy. If she had listened to me things wouldn’t have been like this-”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done here.” Giving up, you turned away, heading to your studio and locked yourself in. You would now do what you always did every time your dreaded ex came across your mind - throw yourself into your work and forget the rest of the world.

In a way, you had to thank your mother for reminding you about that man and consequently pushing you towards your work cause god were you way behind schedule. You knew you were falling behind but you didn’t know it was this bad until you noticed all your deadlines menacingly staring at you from your calendar. Without wasting time, you got back into the mechanical pursuit of your job, the way you usually did when you had a surmount of orders. You only ever stepped out twice, once for lunch and once for dinner, settling for the food your mother had made for you, scarfing it down within minutes before returning to your designs.

It was only when your shoulders began to miserably ache way past your bedtime that you dragged yourself to the living and found Jeonghan sitting in front of the tv. Surprisingly, you had forgotten all about him in the last many hours, a strange guilt rising in your chest as you sat beside him. Jeonghan did not turn to you as you approached.

“Are you…” You laughed at the screen. “Are you watching Princess and the Frog?”

He nodded.

“As a child, I never understood this movie.” You leaned back into the couch. “I always thought the prince was supposed to save the princess. Instead he turned out to be a playboy and dragged her through his miserable fate too.”

Jeonghan hummed in response.

“I can’t remember the last time I watched this.” You fiddled with your hands, trying to make conversation. “Seungkwan hates this movie so he never lets us watch during movie nights too.”

Jeonghan simply hummed again.

Sighing, you turned to him. “Are you….angry or something?”

“I’m not angry, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“The things your mother told me about you and your past.” Jeonghan let out a deep breath, contemplating for a bit before finally talking. “I don’t understand when people forget themselves in a relationship. It makes no sense to lose yourself in love.”

“That’s because you’ve never been in love.” You watched the screen as the two animated frogs ran through the forest. “That’s just how it is.”

“If that’s love then I don’t ever want to be in it.”

“Yeah well that’s the part that sucks.” You scoffed. “You don’t really get to choose. Love just happens.”

Jeonghan finally turned to you. “You read too many fairy tales, princess.”

Smiling at the familiar nickname, you leaned back into the couch. “I did, as a child. I grew up in a world of fairy tales. That’s where I met Bohyun, my ex.”

Now Jeonghan had all his attention on you.

“We were re-enacting Sleeping Beauty for a school play - I was Aurora and he was Prince Philip. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first of many things to be honest. We lived in the same neighbourhood, went to the same schools, had the same friends… I even enrolled into fashion school because he wanted to study fashion and I wanted to be with him.” You sighed looking at Jeonghan’s expression. “Yeah I can tell you don’t like that. Honestly, that wasn’t the worst decision I made. I actually really grew to love fashion designing, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. It’s all the stuff after that I failed to see. Rather, I did see it all but…. I guess I was too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

Jeonghan waited quietly for you to continue.

“It started with him disappearing for long hours, then it became days together. On some days he would give explanations and on some days he would in turn scold me for not trusting him? All this went on till the last semester of fashion school when as my mother would have told you, I….found him cheating on me.”

Jeonghan looked like he expected that outcome.

“The crazier thing was, I actually begged him to leave her and come back to me. It took a while but he eventually did and I thought everything was back to normal again but something had changed. I refused to see it but he became strangely controlling. He would want to have a say in who my friends were, he didn’t like me hanging out with people he didn't get along with, he became more demanding about….” You gulped, voice dropping a little. “...sex. It was like he knew how much I needed him, like….”

“He knew you didn’t know how to say no.” Jeonghan completed for you, and you nodded.

“But then he cheated again, and came back again and then cheated yet again and I took him back again and it just kept going on and on until…. one day he asked me for a lot of money, to help kick start his new business.” You sighed. “Do you remember that dream space I told you about? It was originally my grandmother’s old kimbap shop, one that she gifted me, so I could open my own boutique there one day. I uh sold it, to get him the money he wanted and….he used it to buy his other girlfriend a house.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened like he was mad.

“After that blow, I quit school and moved away from that neighbourhood to this place, my grandmother’s apartment. Everyone thought I was done with him and was trying to move on but…. I was honestly running away. Because I knew if he came back….”

“You still wouldn’t be able to say no.”

You nodded. “I am pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, a little.” Jeonghan scoffed. “I don’t understand love, and I’ve never been in it, but one would have to be a fool to not be in love with you.”

You looked at Jeonghan, slightly taken aback.

“The world is harsh and cold and selfish Y/n. No one thinks about anything beyond themselves. And there’s you, putting the person you love above everything. It’s both pathetic and noble.” Jeonghan turned off the movie as the credits began rolling. “But you cannot put your self respect on the line for assholes like him, you deserve much better than that.”

“I know.” You sighed. “I wish I knew how to.”

“By speaking your mind.” Jeonghan stated like it was obvious. “By refusing the things you don’t want. By asking for the things you do want. By talking about how you feel…. Not just when you’re drunk but also in all your senses.”

Recalling that drunk night in the bathroom you laughed softly. He wasn’t wrong. Things between the two of you had changed drastically since that conversation. A strange gratitude swelled in your heart towards Jeonghan and how though he had been with you for barely a week, he had understood you better than anyone had. Turning him to you, you placed a soft kiss on his mouth, muttering a heartfelt “Thank you.”

Jeonghan, though, rolled his eyes. “Y/n, I’m not even kidding, my grandmother kisses me like this.”

You laughed as he reached for you, attempting to pull you into his lap yet again but you beat him to it, clambering in yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jeonghan smiled at the sight of you above him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Is there something you want?”

“Yes.” You whispered, taking his face in your hands and kissing him again, this time, slipping your tongue in his mouth. Jeonghan’s lips curled into a smile as he pressed back, breaking free only to softly bite on your lower lip. Sighing dreamily, you rocked your hips against his, guided by his hands. You softly mumbled, holding back a moan. “We didn’t get to finish…. whatever we were doing last night.”

“And what was that?”

“.....you know what.”

“Use your words princess,” His voice went low and gruff, sending a tingle across your groin. “You were far from shy with my fingers inside you.”

“Don’t….”

Jeonghan’s hands sneaked under your shirt, more than pleased to not find the hooks of a bra. “Bedroom.”

You shook your head slowly, muttering. “Too far.”

Chuckling Jeonghan leaned back. “You want me to take you right here?”

“You said I could choose next time….”

“I also asked you to beg next time.” He whispered, tongue running over his lower lip, hands dragging you hips along his length. “So tell me you want me to fuck you with my fingers again.”

“Please.” You gasped. “Just fuck me… with anything.”

“Anything…” He repeated amused, before pulling your shirt over your head. No sooner did the material leave you, his mouth descended on your boob, pulling you in, towards him. Threading your fingers in his hair you gripped it as a moan slipped out of you - never in your life had you ever been this obscene but something about doing it with Jeonghan felt like this was the big catharsis of your life, waiting to happen.

With a swift movement he flipped you onto your back, laying you on the couch, hovering over you. Without wasting any time, you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers moving nimbly, thank god for fashion school. Jeonghan laughed as you attempted to push the fabric off his shoulders, holding your hands by the wrists, pinning it to your chest.

“Eager aren't we?” He looked at you in a way that could only be described as mocking. “If only you were honest with me from the start we could have been doing this for so long.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Shhh.” Head raised, you watched him drag his mouth down your chest, inching closer to your abdomen. “I hate apologies. You either own it or fix it.”

“How can I fix it?”

“By telling me what you really want.” Pulling your shorts off your legs, he hovered right above where you were aching once again.

“I…I don’t know.” Falling back onto the couch, you stared at the ceiling. “I really don't. I just know that I’ve been weirdly winded and uneasy for a long time and it feels like you’re the only one who can help- oh my god.”

Your eyes widened as you raised yourself on your elbows to see Jeonghan right between your legs, his mouth pressed onto your panties right there.

“Like this?” He grinned before peppering small kisses on the inside of your thigh.

When words refused to leave your dried up throat, you nodded slowly, not looking at him. Leaving your hands Jeonghan hooked his fingers on the elastic of your underwear, “Up.” and pulled it down your raised hips. As it joined the rest of your clothes somewhere on the floor, suddenly you were hyper aware of the fact that you were completely bare while Jeonghan was still almost entirely clothed. Reflexively, your legs tried to squeeze shut, but Jeonghan’s hands stopped them, pulling them over his shoulders instead.

“I wish you could see yourself from my eyes Y/n.” He looked at you, eyes darkened in desire. You probably looked like a flushed, panting mess, completely missing the admiration etched on Jeonghan’s face.

Aware of Jeonghan and his ability to tease and especially his affinity for begging, you opened your mouth to do just the same but what left it was an unholy moan as Jeonghan descended upon you like he was ravenous. As though just his mouth on your clit wasn’t making you lose your mind, his digits too slipped in, pumping slowly. He must’ve liked it when your fingers automatically threaded into his hair because his groan reverberated against your core making your back arch off the couch in pleasure.

Oral was completely new territory - you had never gotten or given it, god knows why considering this was clearly the best thing that has ever happened to you. As discussed yesterday, you let every sound leave your mouth freely, unbothered about the neighbours or people living around. Frankly it could be the end of the world and you wouldn’t care, not with what Jeonghan’s tongue was doing inside you. He too seemed to enjoy your audible reactions and the way it told him just how you liked it, his fingers and mouth taking turns to manhandle you.

“Jeonghan fu-fuck, right there.” You nearly sobbed as his fingers found your sweet spot, the one that made your toes quite literally curl.

“Don’t cum Y/n, I don’t want to be done just yet.”

Well then he should have behaved like it because seconds after he said that you felt that tightening coil in you snap as you embarrassingly loudly, came on his tongue, riding it out against his mouth. Licking his lips Jeonghan pulled himself away from your legs, hovering above you once more, kissing you again. The taste of you in his mouth felt sinful but you let yourself be carried away by it as his hand ran up your thigh seductively before grabbing your more petite hand, placing it right where he was rock hard. As your mouth practically watered at how long and heavy he felt in your hands, Jeonghan buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little bite marks of red.

“I thought gentlemen didn’t make a woman cum just once.” You muttered, gripping his erection the best you could in that angle and over his sweats.

Jeonghan hissed, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you didn’t want anything gentle?”

“I….I don’t.” You confessed out loud for the first time. “Do whatever you want, I can take it.”

Jeonghan raised his eyebrows both pleased and impressed as his fingers toyed with the slick dripping between your folds. Eyes shut tight, you waited to feel him ravage you once again instead, you were met with the sound of a loud knock on your door.

Both Jeonghan and you looked at each other wondering if that was just imagination till another knock pulled you to your senses.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your mother again.” Jeonghan quickly sat up, hands moving to button himself up.

“I hope not.” You got off the couch hurriedly, grabbed your clothes from the floor and quickly threw them on, smoothing out your hair. Jeonghan walked up to the door, waiting with his hand on the handle for you to look decent as you and your wobbly self tried to keep it together. The moment you pulled your shirt over your head and adjusted your shorts, Jeonghan opened the door and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Standing at the entrance was a young woman dressed in an unbelievably tight black dress, her hair held up by a high ponytail as she blew her baby pink bubblegum. She looked up from her phone at you then at the door number as though she was confirming if she was in the right place. You knew exactly why she was here and for whom.

Unable to comprehend how exactly to react in this situation, you grabbed your jacket from the stand and walked past Jeonghan, harshly pulling away from his attempt to hold you back. Not even glancing back, you disappeared into the night doing what you did best - running away.

“Y/n.”

When you opened your eyes you were met with the sight of Jeonghan’s face high above, upside down.

“Oh my god.” You gasped slowly. “Your mouth is on your forehead and your eyes are on your chin.”

“And you’re clearly drunk. Again.” He walked around, lying down on the grass beside you. “Which means it's time for both stupidity and honesty.”

You turned your head towards him. “Did you just call me stupid?”

Jeonghan mirrored you. “I also called you honest.”

“Hmm. Then I'll be honest. I don't want to talk to you.”

“Do you want me to go then?”

“No.” You sighed. “I don't want you to go… to her.”

“She's gone. I sent her away the moment you left.”

“Why did it take you so long to come to me then?” You pouted as Jeonghan laughed.

“I thought you'd be at the restaurant. I didn't expect to find you lying in the middle of the football field.”

In all fairness, that was a valid point - you didn't want to face the boys right now so you purchased a few bottles of soju from the supermarket which were now lying empty around you.

“Why did she come?”

“I didn’t call anyone today.” He sighed. “It’s just, the instruction was for a new one to come every night. They came the last two nights too, I sent them away, just like I did today.”

“Why?”

“Because…. Because we,” Jeonghan cleared his throat. “I mean you and I-”

“Why do you need a new girl every night?”

“I'm not sure.” Jeonghan turned away, staring at the stars. “I guess I'm just… looking for a human connection with someone.”

“Like that?” You scoffed. “By sleeping with someone new everyday?”

“I don’t know Y/n, I don't even know how what I’m searching for feels. Perhaps I’m just looking for someone who makes me feel….. Normal? Like I’m worthy of being cared for.”

“Did you manage to find anyone…. who makes you feel like that?”

Jeonghan turned to you with a small smile, eyes roaming over your features. “Yes but ironically, not by sleeping with them.”

You hummed, pausing for a silent minute.

“Did you never want to try and find that with me?” Eyes big and curious you turned to him. “Did you never want to sleep with me?”

“I did. From the moment I laid my eyes on you.” Jeonghan recalled the first ever words he said to you. I love you. Maybe he didn't just say it out of relief. Maybe a part of him subconsciously knew this was it. You were it. “But you quite literally kept running away from me. Hell, you couldn't even say the word ‘sex'-”

“I want to have sex with you.” You sat up in a flash. “Jeonghan I really do want to have sex with you-”

“You're drunk.” Jeonghan chuckled. “Sober you may not want the same thing-”

“It does. Every me wants this. Jeonghan-” To his complete surprise, you climbed onto him, straddling him around the waist, palms planted on his chest. “-I'm serious. Didn't you say I was honest when I'm drunk?”

“I also said you were stupid when drunk.” He tucked your hair behind your ear fondly. “It won’t be right to do anything now.”

“Fine. I’ll be sober by the morning and ask you first thing when I wake up, do you promise to fuck me right here?”

“Out here? Ok that’s a bit much even for me.” Jeonghan laughed. “You’re a lot wilder than I anticipated, princess.”

“Ugh.” You groaned, lying down on his chest, eyes fluttering shut from the tiredness. “I think you bring out the worst in me.”

“But somehow you bring out the best in me.” Jeonghan stroked your head softly. “I can't remember the last time I felt this free and happy. Strangely, I think I've grown to like this little domestic life with you. The cooking, the shopping, the grandmas, the kids, your mom…..does it all have to end in 2 days?”

When he didn’t get a response, Jeonghan glanced down only to find you fast asleep, mouth slightly open. Laughing silently he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close against his chest as he too dozed off into a peaceful slumber.

Day 9 of 10

You woke up to the feeling of harsh sunlight on your face which was not unusual given you always slept next to the window. What was unusual was waking up in the middle of the football field wrapped in Jeonghan's arms.

You're fully awake in the blink of an eye, mortified by the thought of people having seen the two of you, although no one seemed to be around as far as the eye could see.

“Good morning princess.” Jeonghan yawned, slowly waking up, his arms loosening around you. Taking the chance you slid off him, mumbling a small “morning.” in reply.

Jeonghan snickered, glancing at you. “Someone's definitely sober.”

“We should go….before someone sees us.”

As you looked around trying to spot any unwelcome viewers, Jeonghan raised himself on his elbow, looking down at you.

“Last night you didn't seem to care.”

“Jeonghan….” His finger traced down your arm seductively. “Please let's go home.”

Reading into your urgency, Jeonghan nodded, pulling you up to your feet. As the two of you walked away, his hand was still interlocked in yours.

The streets near your house somehow looked more alive today. Suddenly everyone you knew was out on the street, waving you hi, wishing you good morning, smiling slightly at the sight of the two of you walking hand in hand. Seokmin, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who normally only turned up in the evening for their shift after classes, were also standing outside the restaurant, looking at the two of you quizzically. As Jeonghan spotted them he let your hand go, greeting them with a nod before glancing at the convenience store.

“I’m gonna grab breakfast.” He stepped back. “We’re going to need our energy for what’s coming.”

As he walked off with a wink and you tried to suppress your excited smile, the boys jogged up to you, gathering around.

“Did I just see you two hold hands?” Soonyoung poked your arm with a smirk.

“Soonyoung later.” Seungkwan shut him up. “Y/n, you have Jeonghan’s phone right?”

“H-his phone?” You shook your head. “Not right now. It’s in the drawer of the tv cabinet…. I think?”

“Well we gotta message that guy, assistant 1, remind him to keep the money ready.”

You blinked like all the words he said just went over your head.

Seungkwan looked at you pointedly, “Tomorrow is the tenth day Y/n, remember what we’re doing all this for?”

“Are you okay?” Seokmin glanced at you lost in thought.

No, no you did not think you were okay.

“No.”

That was the first word that left you the moment you entered your house and Jeonghan closed the door behind you.

“I mean, you were right. Sober me doesn’t want the same thing.”

Jeonghan looked at you trying not to show the surprise and confusion on his face. You, on the other hand, finally had clarity - this was Jeonghan. Mafia boss Yoon Jeonghan. The man who was on the run from the cops, the man who you were in fact holding for a ransom, the man who will be gone in a day. This wasn’t you - sleeping with a man because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had no idea why you were behaving like this.

“Jeonghan, I'm a relationship kind of girl. I can’t sleep with someone who…. Who isn’t a permanent part of my life. Who’s just…. in it for one night.”

“What?”

“Jeonghan you’re the kind who needs a new woman every night and I’m not interested in being a part of that long list-”

“Did you not hear a word I said last night?”

“You told me to learn how to say no.” You raised your hands. “I’ve learnt it and this is me saying no. “ You let out a deep, determined breath. “I don’t want this.”

Jeonghan stared at you for a minute before his eyes fell to the floor.

“If that’s what you want.”

And with that he walked past you, finishing everything just as easily as it started.

Strangely, the rest of the day, Jeonghan didn’t behave any differently than he usually did. You expected him to be mad or at least upset but quite frankly, he seemed unbothered. You did notice though that he ordered his own food for lunch and seemed particularly cautious about how he was around you in your personal space. Gone was the Jeonghan who liked to lean in to say the simplest of things.

His lack of botheration though, particularly bothered you. From the things he had said and the way he had behaved, it seemed like he wanted you as much as you wanted him so how was it so easy for him to put so much distance between the two of you when it was excruciatingly painful for you to stay even a foot away from him? How was he able to be so calm and casual, like you didn’t just completely cast him aside? How did it not matter to him that you didn’t want him to be a part of your life?

It was because of all this consistent overthinking that you could only manage to keep yourself away from Jeonghan for about five hours, till around sunset. Finding a pack of condoms in the bag of food he brought from the supermarket was probably what finally set you off.

“What is wrong with you?” You threw the pack onto the couch beside him.

Jeonghan glanced at the pack, then at you. “Based on last night’s conversation, I assumed certain things about today, so I thought that was a sensible purchase.”

“Exactly, why aren’t you more upset?” You crossed your arms. “I told you I wanted to last night, you even prepared for it, then in the very last second, I said no-”

“That’s exactly why I’m not upset.” Sighing, Jeonghan stood. “Y/n, I’m glad you said no. I’m happy you learnt to say it. I couldn't care less that I’m the first victim of this newfound voice, I’m just happy you found it.”

You blinked at him.

“I know you’re thinking about the future and that’s fair. I don’t know how long I can be here or if I will be forced to be on the run again, or what really is in store for me but I’m just happy that even if I’m not there, you will be able to respect yourself the way I do. That you won’t compromise with what you want for what others want from you-”

Strangely overwhelmed, you pulled him by his shirt and claimed his breath with a kiss. Almost instantly, Jeonghan kissed you back, hands gripping your waist, mouth ravenously capturing yours like the five hours you were apart were unbearable for him too.

“Wait.” He pulled back when the loss of breath somehow brought him back to his senses. “Y/n what-”

“Fuck me Jeonghan.”

“Didn’t you say-”

“I take it back.”

“Y/n.” Jeonghan pulled away, holding you at an arm's distance. “Don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“But I want this.” You kissed him again, muttering against his mouth. “I want you.”

Jeonghan clearly, if anything, was a man. The moment you whispered a soft please, grinding your hip against his, he smashed his lips onto yours again, refusing to break away even though the two of you could barely find footing as you stumbled to your room. He only parted when the back of his knees hit your bed, forcing him to sit down and he looked up at you between the tresses falling into his eyes. You pushed it back, running the back of your hand along his cheek.

“I wish the world looked at me the way you do.”

“If anyone else looked at you this way,” Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid it's going to be the last thing they ever look at.”

You laughed rolling your eyes. “A little admiration isn’t a crime.”

“If admiration is what you want, then I shall bend the will of every man in the city into doing so.” He smirked, attempting to bite your fingers lingering by his lips. “Let me properly show you mine first.”

As he tugged on your shirt you obediently pulled it over your head as he stripped out of his own. It wasn’t the first time the two of you were seeing each other shirtless but there was a strange charged energy rippling between you now, one that was almost impossible to ignore. As you bent down to kiss him again, his hands found the hooks of your bra, unclasping them as you quickly dragged it down your arms, tossing it somewhere. His hand ran up the insides of your thigh, a jolt running through you when his fingers grazed over your clit. As you gasped, he took the chance to pull you closer by the leg, running his mouth below your belly button.

“Jeonghan, haven’t we had enough foreplay?” You sighed, throwing your head back as he marked your skin, slowly pulling both your shorts and underwear in one go. “We’ve been doing this for days, let’s just get to it please.”

“To what?” Feigning innocence he smirked, running his tongue along his teeth.

“Fucking.” You pushed him back into the bed. “Fuck me Jeonghan. Properly. Your dick inside me kinds.”

Jeonghan raised himself on his elbows, laughing. “Look at you, using your big girl words.”

Kicking off the rest of your clothes, you attempted to straddle him when he pulled you into the mattress and in a flash, you were lying on the bed and he was towering over you instead. Sticking his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a condom and threw it at you.

“Open it.”

Holding the wrapper between your teeth, you ripped it open as fast as you could, earning a tutting noise from Jeonghan.

“Y/n, you could make a hole like that.”

You stared at him blankly, like you were supposed to understand what he was saying when he was standing there with his pants discarded, stroking himself. Your mouth was in a strange combination of being dry but also somehow almost drooling. Almost the same way you wanted him both in your mouth and rearranging your organs down under, all at once. Jeonghan chuckled at your inability to function as he gently grabbed the latex from you and rolled it over his length. You shouldn’t have expressed so much eagerness to have him fuck you - you could’ve felt every vein and ridge you were seeing in your mouth first but that thought dissipated the moment Jeonghan hovered over you, grabbing you by the jaw. Almost reflexively, your mouth opened for him, allowing him to slide his thumb in as you earnestly sucked it, hoping his smirk would turn into the hunger to feel your lips around him. As much as Jeonghan did tell you to ask for what you want, you had a feeling if you told him just how desperate you were to have him fuck your mouth, he would never let you live it down.

“I know what you want.” Jeonghan spoke under his breath as his hand trailed down your body, slipping between your legs. “But I want this a lot more. Is that okay?”

Okay? You nodded immediately - it was absolutely okay. You just wanted to be full of him one way or another. Jeonghan shook his head.

“Words baby.” He slid his thumb in, almost embarrassingly easily, as he stared at his finger disappear inside you. “Although this is telltale, we will do whatever you want.” He leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“You.” You breathed out, “However, wherever-”

And the words died on your tongue when he swiftly pulled his finger out and immediately entered you, gently pushing in till he bottomed out. Chest heaving, you could feel yourself panting as your body tried to adjust to his girth. Jeonghan groaned into your ear as your walls fluttered around him, still getting accustomed to the stretch.

“I knew you’d feel good.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You feel fucking perfect.” Jeonghan pulled back just a little, his hips setting a slow rhythm. “I could be in you forever.”

Before a proud smile could even fully form on your face, Jeonghan picked up the pace, making your lips part with a moan.

“I….Oh god.” You whined, trying to find your words in between his continuous strokes. “I….. didn’t think you were a missionary kind of guy.”

Jeonghan chuckled as he ran his hand down your leg and pulled your knee up so he could grip your thigh. “I want to see you cum.” Sighing, he bit on your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. “I want to see how I make you feel.”

“So fucking good.” You muttered against his mouth, finding your hips moving against his on their own accord. You wanted to make him feel good so you wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your nails down his back and wow did that work like a charm because Jeonghan’s rhythm instantly faltered, as did his grip on your thigh, surely bruising it.

“Oh Y/n,” He slipped his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit when you groaned at the touch. “I can play the game too.”

“Whatever you do, just- fuck.” You squirmed as Jeonghan seemed to have the perfect combination of thrusts and rubbing circles. “Just don’t stop.”

“Never.” He groaned, continuing to make you fall apart as you felt your back arch off the mattress, toes curling in pleasure. Jeonghan latched his mouth on your bared neck, muttering, “Yes, yes cum for me.”

And you did, finally, after days of desiring to be railed by this man, you came around him, body keening under his weight, eyes nearly rolling back. As you slowly panted back to reality, Jeonghan, who had long pulled out of you and rolled off you onto his side, was looking at you intently. Embarrassed that this was not the first but the second time he managed to break you in minutes, you covered your face with your hands, earning Jeonghan’s laugh.

“Why are you hiding?” He tried to pry your hands away, only to fail. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to look more pretty but fuck you looked so beautful when you came.”

“Jeonghan please….”

“Please what?” He chuckled, shifting beside you. “I’ve seen all there is to.”

You shook your head, choosing the darkness over meeting his eyes when suddenly, you felt him crawl between your legs and his mouth descend on you as he spread them apart. Considering how sensitive you were, your hands immediately flew to his head, eyes widening as he licked your arousal, looking at you victoriously.

“I can’t….” You muttered and he pulled away, licking his lips, sitting back on his heels. Eyes running over his flushed face and body, you noticed the marks of your nail on his bicep, and also the fact that he was still hard as ever.

“You didn’t finish.” You sat up, crossing your legs, only just realizing.

“I usually need a lot more than a few minutes to finish.” He pursed his lips but you knew he was trying to hold back a smile. A mocking one, at how easily you seemed to cum.

“Then let’s go again.” You cocked your head. “…. On one condition.”

“And what is that?”

You let out a deep breath. “Take off your condom.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t be serious.”

“Considering you sleep with a new woman every night, I’m guessing you always use protection.”

“Always, that's an unsaid rule”

“But I’m not them, so their rules can’t apply to me.” It was your turn to smirk. “We’ll see how long you last when you fuck me raw.”

“Look at you, challenging me.” Jeonghan smiled like he was proud. “But it's not safe Y/n-”

“What’s life without a little recklessness?” You rolled your eyes earning Jeonghan’s laugh. “Besides, that condom probably already has a hole from my teeth so-”

“So I’ll grab another one.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, if you leave this bed, this ends.” You crossed your arms. “Your choice.”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice really.”

“I know.” You grinned. “Now might also be a good time to add that though I might not be one of your regular nightly encounters, you should know that I heard you almost every night.” You let your voice go softer. “And I liked it….. A lot.”

Finally, finally, Jeonghan’s expression darkened the way you wanted it to. “I suspected.”

“And I’m confirming.” You shrugged. “And by the way, I also have an IUD so I’m not sure what you’re waiting for.”

Jeonghan paused for a minute before he finally spoke. “On your knees.”

You shook your head, extending your hand and pulling his condom off, tossing the latex in a nearby bin. “In my mouth.”

“I don’t think so, princess.” Jeonghan not so gently pushed you back into the mattress, your back barely hitting it before he flipped you over and pulled you onto your knees. “I prefer blowjobs as a wake up call. This time of the night, I like to prove bratty girls wrong.”

You laughed, looking over your shoulder. “But I want to see your face when I prove you wrong.”

Knowing exactly what you wanted, Jeonnghan sighed before lying down on his back next to you, allowing you to move over and straddle him.

“My bet is 9 minutes.” You ran your hand down his chest. “I don’t think you can last till double digits.”

“We both know you won’t last even half of that Y/n-” He smirked. “-given your track record.”

Deciding to prove him wrong with actions not words, you aligned his tip under you and sank down his length with a slow, deep moan. The stretch in this new angle felt different but it also let you take him further in, deeper than you had even imagined it was possible.

Maybe Jeonghan was right about you breaking first. Given the way he made you feel so full, the way you felt every inch of his bare length in your insides, you knew it was only a matter of time.

Or maybe not. Evidently, this was the first time Jeonghan was ever fucking someone raw. You could tell by the way he sounded with every drag of your walls against his dick - the struggling breathy moans that he was trying not to let out as you picked up the pace.

You knew if you chose to grind your hips against his, it would help reach those spots in you a whole lot better, sending waves of pleasure through your body but you were determined to make Jeonghan cum first. That’s why you supported yourself with your palms on his chest, moving your hips up and down along his length and momentarily, Jeonghan gripped your waist tight, encouraging you to move just like that. At least until he realised he was getting too close to cumming and too close to losing. Changing strategy, he grabbed and squeezed your boobs instead, trying to ignore his own approaching high. When you responded with a whimper, satisfied, he dragged his hand down, bringing attention to your ignored clit.

“That’s cheating.” You panted, throwing your head back, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach.

Jeonghan snickered, shaking his head, refusing to stop his ministrations. If there was one thing he always took pride in, it was his ability to capitalize on every woman’s weakness - her clit.

Though you were feeling your legs shake and your arms were struggling to hold your weight, you didn’t stop, ignoring your breaths which were getting fast and shallow.

Jeonghan however, immediately picked up on it, reaching for your wrist and pulling you, making you fall over, onto him.

“Hey,” He tried to get a good look at your face. “You okay?”

“Tired.” You mumbled. “I’ve never been on top.”

“Let me.” He whispered, dropping a kiss on your cheek as you nodded.

Grabbing your ass with both his hands he raised it, guiding your movements and snapping his hips up at the same time. You on the other hand, let him have his way with you, busying yourself, alternating leaving marks all over his neck and shoulder and moaning sweetly into his ear. Both things seemed to rile him effectively as his pace became merciless and erratic, pounding into you the way you had only dreamed of for days. With a few more rough thrusts, you felt your walls tighten around him as the coil in you finally snapped and thanks to your tight constriction around his length, Jeonghan too came inside you, ropes of white filling you as he groaned in your ear.

As the two of you slowly came down from your high, Jeonghan wrapped his arms around you, dropping a sweet kiss in your hair. You snuggled into his neck, ignoring the feeling of your mixed releases leaking out of you.

“That was definitely more than 9 minutes.” Jeonghan pointed out.

“I lasted more than half.”

“So neither of us won?” Jeonghan hummed.

You pulled yourself up, looking at him. “Or maybe…. we need round three to decide.”

“You read my mind.” He smirked, quickly flipping you onto your back, ignoring your shriek of surprise as he hovered over you. The night was still so so young.

Day 10 of 10

By the time you came around, the night had passed and the sun had begun to rise. No wonder it felt a whole lot warmer even though you were butt naked, covered by just a thin blanket thrown over you. It was the morning sun and also Jeonghan, who was comfortably snuggled in your arms, his breath soft against the crook of your neck. As you shifted from him just a little, trying to glance at his beautiful face, he pulled away, grumbling as he rolled onto his back, still fast asleep. Raising yourself on your elbow, you glanced at him.

Last night was…..something. You never really admitted to yourself in the last few days that you had thought about sleeping with Jeonghan a few hundred times, but now you did and you also had to admit that it was nowhere how you thought it would have gone. Maybe rounds two, three, four and how many ever that followed did match up to that but somehow, it was round one that was playing in your mind. The unexpected softness from him, the way he was looking into your eyes….. It all felt a bit strange. Like it was something you would do.

On the other hand, the wild person you expected Jeonghan to be, ended up coming out of you. The kinds of things you said? The kinds of things you did? It was so uncharacteristic yet….. It didn’t feel wrong. In fact, in a very long time, you were feeling strangely liberated. Like there was no fairytale ending written for you and surprisingly you didn’t mind that.

But speaking of happy endings…..

You determinedly pulled away your blanket covering Jeonghan, glancing at how his boxers were on again. Maybe he put them on after you had promptly passed out last night, completely worn out and exhausted, just the way he seemed to have cleaned you up before tucking you in. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you got between his legs, pulling down the elastic of his underwear, taking his dick into your hands. Surprisingly, Jeonghan didn’t stir awake, or even move an inch so you promptly began stroking it, quickening your movements, especially when you slowly felt him harden under your touch. It was only when you spat in your hand and began to jerk him off more steadily that he finally came around, eyes slowly blinking open.

“First thing in the morning?” He smiled sleepily. “You’re insatiable.”

“Rise and shine.” You grinned. “Someone said something about a wake up call.”

“I said I’d like your mouth.” He tucked his hand below his head looking at you with what you could only comprehend as a mix of lust and fondness.

Smiling, you got down on your stomach, wrapping your mouth around his tip eliciting a shaky breath from him. You pulled back with a wet pop and the lick of the lips. “And it's all yours.”

Jeonghan chuckled, whispering, “You’re going to be the end of me princess.”

Little did he know.... you actually were.

The warm water on your skin was much needed after an unexpectedly long morning. Actually, it was very much expected considering the way you woke Jeonghan up. It was only natural that he would return the favor to the best of his abilities and that somehow spiraled from one thing to another, causing morning to turn into afternoon. Your stomach let out a low rumble, reminding you that you were hungry and that you should have put water to boil so you could make some ramyeon for lunch. You knew Jeonghan particularly enjoyed soggy noodles and it was also the quickest meal you could have given how much energy was exhausted in the last 12 or so hours.

As you stepped out of the shower, dried yourself and slipped into a comfortable pair of clothes, conspicuously leaving the top two buttons open, you found Jeonghan standing in the kitchen behind the stove.

“You put the water to boil?” You smiled relieved. “Thank god-”

“You kidnapped me?” Jeonghan turned to you, eyes flashing the pain of betrayal. In his hand was his phone, the one you had safely stashed in the drawer and on the screen was a message from his assistant. One that said the money in exchange for Jeonghan was ready. “All these days, you let me stay in your house because you were holding me for ransom?”

“Jeonghan I know what it looks like and I can explain-”

“All this for what? To buy your grandmother’s shop again?”

“No….” You stepped up shaking your head. “I didn’t even know about the shop till you were with me. Jeonghan, I didn’t do this for money-”

“I should have known when your mother said she had no brother.” Jeonghan shook his head like he couldn’t believe himself. “Keeping me here as a twisted revenge for your incarcerated uncle, why did I overlook how stupid that was?”

“Okay that was a lie, but I didn’t make it up.” You tried to hold his hand, but he pulled away hurtfully. “Jeonghan, it was the boys…. I just went with whatever they told me to do. Things just turned out this way, none of us planned for it to happen and…. I wasn’t going to go through with this plan anyways, I was going to call it off today-”

“Why?” Jeonghan looked at you impassively. “What changed in 10 days?”

You blinked at him, words lost. “I….. I got to know you. I saw who you could be if you distanced yourself from all that crime and lived a normal life. I always believe people deserve a second chance and I thought so do you. And we didn’t even get a first chance-”

You turned at the sound of the doorbell before glancing at the clock. A part of you wanted to ignore it and clear the air with Jeonghan but when it rang urgently again, you sighed, turning to him.

“I think it’s the boys, I’m sorry, just give me a second.”

Rushing, you half ran over to the door quickly opening it, shaking your head. “Guys, things are a mess-”

But it seemed like the bigger mess had in fact just arrived. Standing before you was the one person you did not want to see, especially now - Bohyun.

“W-what are you doing here? And how did you even find me?”

Uninvited, Bohyun stepped in walking past you. “Your mother….” He turned to you, clearing his throat. “I assumed when you left that you had gone overseas, to Paris maybe, your dream city. But your mother said she met you and your new boyfriend so I figured you were in town and considering how your grandmother moved in with your mom, I guessed that you would be here.” He looked at you painfully. “Is… Is it true? Do you actually have a boyfriend now?”

“Bohyun….” You ran your fingers through your hair stressed. There was too much going on at once. Your past and your potential future were at crossroads you had never imagined. “I don’t know what to tell you-”

“Maybe try telling the truth Y/n.” Jeonghan walked out of the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Don’t you think it’s time?”

“You….” Bohyun’s eyes widened as they fell on Jeonghan and he immediately stepped back, pulling you behind him. “You’re Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Finally.” Jeonghan scoffed. “Someone knows.”

“Y/n, I don’t know what this man has been telling you but he is a criminal.” Bohyun looked at you over his shoulder. “His posters are all over the city, he’s wanted by the cops-”

“She knows.” Jeonghan's voice shook, just a little. “She knows exactly who I am and exactly what I’m worth.”

“Jeonghan please-”

“You know?” Bohyun turned to you, shocked. “You know who he is and you chose to be with him?”

“Bohyun…. y-you have no idea what’s going on here.”

“Oh I do.” He let out a breath like this was all ridiculous. “You’re so desperate for a man, that you would throw yourself at literally anyone-”

And before he could ever complete that sentence, Jeonghan turned him by the shoulder and landed a hard punch straight at his jaw.

“Jeonghan!”

As Bohyun stumbled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, he snarled at the other man, throwing a punch on his own, straight in his midriff, making him buckle over. As the two men furiously threw hands, bruising and bleeding, you stood frozen, unable to watch them or stop them. Before you knew it though, within minutes, Jeonghan had Bohyun on his knees, the latter struggling to keep his eyes open, just one blow away from being knocked out. As Jeonghan raised his hand, you quickly put yourself between the two men.

“Jeonghan no.”

“Did you not hear the way he spoke about you?” He looked uncharacteristically furious, breathing hard. “How dare he-”

“That’s between Bohyun and I. You shouldn’t have come in between.”

Jeonghan lowered his hand, looking at you like he was jolted. Standing up staggering, Bohyun wiped the blood from his mouth, hissing.

“You heard her. Clearly, she picks me.” He smiled victoriously. “The only place you belong is in jail, you bastard, where the fuck is my phone-”

“Y/n, after all he’s done to you, you’re really siding with him?”

“Jeonghan, I think you should leave.” Your voice left you in a soft whisper as he looked at you unbelievably hurt. “Please just…. it’s best that you go.”

Tearing his eyes away from you, Jeonghan let out a shaky breath before slowly nodding. “If that’s what you want.”

And with that, without so much as sparing you a glance, he walked past you and out of your house as you watched him disappearing from your sight. When you finally let out the breath you were holding, Bohyun put his arm around your shoulder.

“I knew you still loved me.” He rubbed your arm. “You and I were always meant to be, sweetheart.”

Tongue in your cheek you sighed before removing Bohyun’s arm from around you. Turning to him, with everything you had in your being, you slapped him right across the face. Bohyun stumbled at the impact, looking shell shocked.

“The only thing you and I are, is over.” You spat, the words bitter in your mouth. “How could you even think of coming back to me?”

“Babe-”

“Don't call me that.” You pushed him away. “You're right. I always did choose you. I always put you above me, but you? Forget loving me, you didn't have the minimum decency to respect me.”

“Y/n, I said sorry, I really am sorry.”

“Me too.” You stood your ground. “I’m sorry to myself. I'm sorry I gave you the chance to push me around like this. I'm sorry I didn't stand up for myself sooner. But I'm done now. I won't be making the same mistakes.”

“Y/n….” Bohyun held your arm softer than he ever had in the many years you were together. “I know I was wrong. The last few months without you weren't the same, I realised how bad I was to you and how much I need you please don't do this. Please come back…..what we had was so good-”

“Good for you Bohyun, but not good enough for me.” You pulled your arm away. “I won't take you back this time, or ever. We're done for good.”

Bohyun stared at the floor, coming to terms with your words.

“It's because of Yoon Jeonghan isn't it?” His voice turned into a nasty snarl. “You would choose a criminal over me-”

“You still don't get it, do you?” You looked at him with disbelief. “It's not him I choose, it's myself.”

“But-”

“I'm done explaining. I don't owe you anymore conversation, I didn't even owe you this.” You sighed, walking up to the door, holding it open. “Get out of my house.”

Bohyun tried to meet your eye as he slowly walked up to you while you refused to so much as look at him. When he realised you were not going to change your mind, he stepped out of the house and you closed the door behind him with a resounding slam. Holding your racing heart you leaned against it, unable to believe what you just did.

Something in you felt free yet your heart was strangely heavy - you got rid of Bohyun but you lost Jeonghan in the process. Unwilling to give him up, you quickly grabbed your jacket and phone and rushed out of the house, calling your friends. Hopefully he hadn't gotten too far.

You needed to see him again. You needed to tell him everything truthfully.

As the night sky darkened, you walked into your apartment slowly, finding yourself alone in it after days.

You didn’t find Jeonghan anywhere. When you told the boys about all that happened, they were beyond understanding, immediately helping you look for him too. But alas, he was nowhere to be found.

As you sank into the couch, heartbroken over how things ended between you two, Seungkwan's message popped on your phone screen.

Y/n, I think you should see the news.

Panicking, you grabbed your remote and turned on the TV only to see your worst nightmare - Jeonghan being handcuffed and led away by the cops.

“Mafia criminal and mastermind Yoon Jeonghan surrendered a few hours ago to the city police force after nearly 15 days of absconding. The precise reason for why he turned himself in and where he was all this while is unknown but the police are investigating the case. Yoon Jeonghan escaped prison on the 15th of August after tricking two security guards with a severe stomach ache and requesting for medical assistance…..”

The rest of the words faded away as you watched the footage of Jeonghan being escorted away. The pain of betrayal was still flashing in his eyes. Everything was truly over.

10 days later.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall of his cell, staring into the darkness. He knew it was well into the night but sleep wasn't coming to him as always. Every time he closed his eyes, he could only see you, every time he opened them he instinctively looked for you - you refused to get out of his head.

When Jeonghan saw you for the first time, admittedly he thought you were incredibly beautiful but he saw you as more of a conquest - you had that sweet, innocent expression but there was something darker lingering behind your eyes. It made him want to tease it out of you, expose you for what you really were but with each day, when he saw how simple and soft you were, that desire in him died. In his world everything was as corrupt as could be and you were so good to him, Jeonghan knew that little uncommon goodness had to be preserved, remain untouched. That's why though he itched to get under your skin, he tried his best to keep his distance.

That was of course until you decided to kiss him - after that Jeonghan knew keeping his hands off you was the hardest thing he ever had to do. It wasn’t just because he was uncharacteristically attracted to you, normally it was girls in skin tight leather pants and low neck dresses that caught his attention but because he……liked you. He liked watching you work, he liked spending time with you, he liked the idea of a quiet, uneventful life with you. He had spent all his life chasing something that made him feel complete, not even knowing what it was, until those 10 days with you - that was what he wanted.

But clearly you didn’t want him. Though he was unable to accept it at the moment, eventually, he believed you when you said it was never your intention to kidnap him. When he discovered his ringing phone in the drawer due to his assistant’s consistent calling and found out that his price was a hundred thousand dollars Jeonghan was beyond hurt. But you were right - you didn’t know about your grandmother’s shop until the last few days. His assistant too confirmed that it was more the boy's plan than yours and that it was definitely not intentional because it was so poorly made that thanks to his phone, his assistant knew Jeonghan's location the whole time - he was only letting the boys get away with it so Jeonghan had a safe place to hide till things fell in place.

Regardless of everything that happened, it still didn’t mean that you wanted him. Especially when that ex of yours came into your life yet again and you so easily asked him to leave - Jeonghan received the message loud and clear. He was not wanted.

By you at least. The city police definitely wanted him and he knew he had to be on the run yet again but with a part of him left behind in your home, he didn’t know how he was supposed to move away and move on. All he could do was hopelessly wish that you had left a part of you with him too and didn’t always just appear before him like a figment of his imagination. Even now his eyes were playing tricks, showing him the image of you crouched outside his cell bars. You were wearing a police uniform though - Jeonghan softly chuckled. Roleplay was a new element in his imagination.

Or not.

Because as Jeonghan stared harder, expecting the mirage of you to disappear, you smiled at him with a small wave and the whisper of his name…..You were actually here.

Panicking, Jeonghan quickly got to his feet rushing towards you. As his fingers touched your face, confirming your presence, he shook his head.

“Oh no…. Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too.” You chuckled. “And what do you mean? I’m here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?”

You nodded. “We’re gonna break out of this prison.”

“You’re insane.” You grinned as Jeonghan looked at you with disbelief. “You shouldn’t even be here and I can’t run away from here-”

“You did it last time.”

“Precisely why. The security is at an all time high, they’re not going to let the same mistake happen twice.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Why do you think it took me 10 days to come to you? I was doing my research and figuring out how to get you out of here, and I have found a foolproof way.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “And what is that?”

“Just follow my lead.” You pulled out a pair of keys from your pocket, opened his cell door and thrust a package into his hand as you walked in. “Change into this quickly. We only have 17 minutes till the security footage is on loop. We need to get out of here before that.”

As he confusedly dressed himself, you pulled out a can of spray paint from your pocket and scribbled a message on the wall, one that Jeonghan could barely read thanks to the dimness of the cell. Tossing the can aside, you too quickly stripped out of your uniform and changed into clothes similar to Jeonghan’s.

“Don’t stare, Yoon.” You smiled, pulling your hair into a bun, tucking it under the hat. “This is not the first or last time you’re gonna see me naked.”

As Jeonghan tried to process all the information, you quickly gathered all the discarded clothes with one hand and held his hand with the other, rushing out of the cell. At the end of the corridor was a cleaning cart in which you promptly dumped all the clothes and asked him to follow you. As you led the way to the washrooms cautiously, keeping an eye on the patrolling security, Jeonghan realised the two of you were wearing the uniforms of the cleaning staff. Finally, you led him to a ladies washroom, promptly locking it behind you.

“Y/n, what are we doing-”

“Look, that’s the cleaning supplies closet, inside it is a door that leads to the older wing of this prison that is now undergoing renovation. This door was supposed to be locked from the other side but I already broke it open in the morning.”

“Morning?”

“I came in with a bunch of medical volunteers for the camp but I never left the premises - I’ve been hiding here all day. Now we’ve to get through this door and cross the construction site without being seen by the patrolling guards in-” You glanced at your watch. “-8 minutes where the boys are waiting with transport. If we don’t, the guards are gonna figure out you’re missing and security will tighten and we will never be able to get out. If you have any other questions, I promise I’ll answer all of them once we get in the car, okay?”

Letting out an unsure breath, Jeonghan nodded, following through with your plan to the T. In all the years Jeonghan had been in crime, he had drawn up several heists and master plans but this….. This was probably the most meticulous and well thought out plan he had ever seen. It was to the point it actually both impressed and terrified him that you, the girl who was hiding behind her three friends the first time he tried to talk to you, were the one who came up with it. When the two of you finally stepped out of the last fence, Jeonghan looked back at prison in awe - he thought this time, he was back here for good but when you called out his name and he turned to you, Jeonghan knew the only place he belonged was with you.

As the two of you trudged through the woods, hand in hand, sirens began to go off in the prison behind you, making you pick up speed, only stopping at the sight of a white car and a white bike beside the very stressed Seokmin, Seungkwan and Soonyoung. The boys sighed in relief as the two of you approached, quickly giving you two a new set of clothes to change into, ushering you into the car. As the two of you began to do so yet again, Jeonghan looked at you intently.

“Come on Jeonghan, the faster we move from here the better.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you save me?”

“Why did you surrender?”

“Because….” Jeonghan sighed. “I didn’t want your ex to have the power over you with the information that you were housing a criminal. But if I was already in their custody, they wouldn’t really care about where I was on the days I was missing.”

You smiled at him softly. “So much from a guy who didn’t understand what it meant to put others before yourself.”

“I told you, you bring out the best in me.” He laughed. “Evidently, I do bring out the worst in you. This was the most badass thing ever, I would’ve never imagined you would do it.”

“Well, someone did tell me I shouldn’t be afraid to ask or go for what I want.” You leaned back against the door. “I’m done sitting and taking whatever life hands me with the hope that it will be my fairytale ending. I’m gonna take things into my own hands now.”

“Successfully you mean.” Jeonghan smirked at you. “You had been trying to take things in your hands for quite a while. Like the first few days you tried so hard to get me arrested again?”

“You knew about that??”

“It was cute, how you were trying to do the right thing. I should have known you would have never held me hostage for money.”

“I was going to tell you about it before things spiraled. I had to get you out of my house first so you were at least safe from Bohyun, even if that meant you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Jeonghan confessed. “I never can. You showed me what I truly wanted from life.”

“As did you. Which is why I ended things with Bohyun once and for all and now I’m here with you, for whatever adventure it is that’s ahead of us.”

“Adventure?” Jeonghan looked at you surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I managed to track down your assistant when I received the papers that I apparently own my grandmother's shop again.” Jeonghan returned your accusatory expression with a sheepish one. “He told me that the last many days, he had been working on liquidating your assets. He also managed to arrange for you to get out of the country and go elsewhere.” You smiled at him. “And I convinced him to let me tag along with you."

“No…..” Jeonghan shook his head. “No you’re not leaving behind your life here and following me around-”

“Jeonghan, I have no life here.” You sighed. “I always thought I was the kind who wanted something safe and secure but you made me see that deep down I’ve been craving for something more, something stimulating and exciting. I genuinely do want to go with you.”

“Your mom?”

“Is more than happy to learn that her daughter is going to Milan to explore her fashion dreams and that my grandmother can move back to her old apartment.”

“You….. You’re really sure?”

“Never been more sure.” You reached for his hand, holding it. Jeonghan stroked the back of your hand softly, a smile growing on his face. It did seem like he wanted to say something, until Soonyoung knocked on the window urgently, ushering you out. Putting on the last of your clothes, the two of you stepped out.

“If the guards send people out to look for Jeonghan, we might get caught here.” Seokmin tapped his foot nervously.

“Yeah, we need to leave as soon as possible.” Seungkwan added, looking equally scared.

“Relax,” You rolled your eyes. “They’re not going to find us. They’re not even going to try to look.”

All four boys looked at you skeptically but it was Jeonghan that spoke up, “Y/n, What did you write on that wall?”

“Fool you once, shame on you. Fool you twice, more shame for you.” You shrugged, quoting yourself. “I basically wrote in short that if they knew what was good for them, they would keep their mouth shuts and allow the public to think you were still in their captivity rather than admit that you fooled them twice in the span of a month and they are incapable of keeping their prisoners in check. I might have also added that you will not be creating any trouble anymore, rest assured, this secret is best buried in the walls of the prison itself.”

As your friends stared at you with hung jaws, Jeonghan laughed like he couldn’t believe his ears. “Who are you?”

“You should’ve seen her the last 10 days.” Soonyoung mumbled. “All the planning, the plotting, she even stitched all these uniforms from scratch, it was low-key terrifying.”

“I want to know all the details of this master plan.” Jeonghan looked proud. “Every single one of them.”

“And you will, we have a long journey to Italy.” You clapped your hands, then held it out to Seugnkwan. “Bike keys.”

“You don’t want the car?”

“Bike is more fun.” You said casually, reaching for the helmets. “And I’m going to drive.”

Jeonghan raised his eyebrow impressed, “So the princess is going to rescue me on her big white…. bike.”

“Guess we got our fairytale ending after all.” You laughed, getting on as your friends rolled their eyes and got into the car. Pulling Jeonghan closer, you finally kissed him, before mumbling against his lips. “Or I guess this time, I’m really kidnapping a mafia boss.”

a/n - I cannot explain how much trouble the 1000 blocks per post limit caused. I hope the spacing inconsistency was overlooked oops! Don't forget to leave you thoughts and opinions about the story! This one took a lot of time and effort to make :)

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fic #jeonghan oneshot #seventeen fic #seventeen series #seventeen imagines #accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss #reverse trope

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