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yieldtotemptation · 5 months ago

Text

MINE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

9k words

it's a follow up to... NURSE

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re going to make me go insane!”

“That good, am I?”

“I swear one of these days—”

“I know, I know, I feel the same—”

“—I am seriously going to kill you!”

“Uh, shit, I’m out of jokes with that one.”

“Good, because I am Not. Fucking. Joking.”

Yeji’s well and truly pissed—rightfully so, mind you (you really fucked up this time), and for the first time ever there may really be no clever quip or line that can get you out of this one.

But of course, that won’t stop you from trying.

“Look around! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She’s glaring at you, the kind of furious that could melt steel with her gaze alone, eyes narrowed into sharp slits that slice through your bullshit like a hot knife.

And so, you blink first, balking under Yeji’s glare, and decide to take her advice and look away, look around at your surroundings—at the many, many reasons Yeji is justifiably upset.

For one, there’s your current location—a hospital room, not a good look. Then, there’s the cast around your arm and bandages on your head—not the worse of injuries, but again, when you couple it with the IV snaking its way up your arm, and the morbid beeping of a heart rate monitor filling the silence, it really does not make you out to be the most intact of individuals.

Finally, there’s Yeji, her eyes verging on tears and her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of your hospital gown and looking like she’s ready to tear the room apart.

Add them all together: a hospital room, a handsome but seriously injured boyfriend, with his devastated girlfriend wracked with worry besides him… it doesn’t paint the best of pictures.

But yet, before you can stop yourself, another attempt at lightening the mood: “You should see the other guy.”

There it is! A crack in Yeji’s armour, a flicker of something other than righteous fury on her face—eyes widen slightly, lips part just a smidge—a ghost of a smile, perhaps?

But it’s gone before you can confirm its existence—Yeji’s façade is maintained and all you get is a minuscule quirk of her eyebrow.

“The other guy was a car,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And now that car is being turned into scrap and I get to be in the presence of the most beautiful girl in all of Korea.”

“I hate you,” she replies, lovingly (you hope).

“Most beautiful girl in all of Asia?” You’re almost there, you can see it on her face.

“Still hate you.” An ease in tension—a slight drop of her shoulders, a relaxing of her grip.

“The world?”

A sigh, a frown slowly turning upwards, success! — “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” you add, and that gets you a smile—a real, genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up the room more than any fluorescent bulb could ever dream of.

“What am I going to do with you?” She’s shaking her head, letting you have your little victory.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, and she's rolling her eyes—nothing she hasn't heard you say before. “Certainly wouldn’t get to stay in a room this nice.”

Yeji blushes, her cheeks taking on the same shade of the excessive number of roses decorating your bedside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, Yeji?” You say, and echo back to her, “look around.”

It’s Yeji’s turn to act coy—as if it’s perfectly normal for a hospital room to come with a flat-screen TV, designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.

The room is closer to a luxury suite than a recovery ward—bigger than your apartment, even—and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to maybe risk another injury so you can maybe extend your stay even longer, especially if it means getting to have Yeji fuss over you like this.

“I might have called in a favour or two,” Yeji admits. “But they said this was the only room available!”

“Yeji, this is too much,” you say, but she’s already ignoring you, waving her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” she says, rising off the bed and leaving you to your own devices, satisfied that you’ve been properly scolded.

But, you know better. While Yeji is like this with everyone she cares about—always giving, always putting others first—with you she gets especially intense with her caring, and as much as she’d probably deny it otherwise, you know that she’s more than a little smug at the sight of you laid up in this fancy hospital room, with nothing to do but let her pamper you.

“Sure, sure,” you say, but you can easily imagine her on the phone with every hospital in a fifty-kilometre radius, pulling strings left and right, leaning on the right people to get what she wants.

It’s just who Yeji is—no half measures, above and beyond in every aspect.

“I should unpack,” Yeji decides, retrieving a ridiculously oversized bag from the corner of your suite.

“Unpack?” You ask, but your question falls on deaf ears.

“I was halfway across the world when I heard what happened.” Yeji's clicking her tongue with annoyance as she struggles with the zipper for the bag. “Two days before I could get a flight out!”

“You didn’t have to rush—” you start to say, but Yeji whips her head around, a clear warning not to finish the very stupid sentence you’re about to complete.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything, just grabbed what I could from our place—” (your place, technically) “—and came straight here.”

Yeji instantly sets about your room, making sure that there isn’t a corner that hasn't been touched by her: your favourite tea brewing, the last book you were reading, a Bluetooth speaker playing her ‘songs to remind you of me’ playlist; every single thing you could possibly need to feel better.

It’s not even what she’s doing as she completes her takeover of your hospital room, it’s how she’s doing it.

She’s in her normal everyday uniform: one of your flannel shirts over a tank top that just so happens to ride up just right, showing off her toned midriff as she reaches to hang a change of clothes for you in the wardrobe. Then there’s the snug, tight yoga pants moulded to her curves that stretch over her unbearably firm ass every time she needs to bend over and take something else out from her bag.

It’s all too perfect to be accidental, and you start to get conspiratorial, like perhaps this innocent act of care is just a torturous reminder of your what you can’t have while you’re all laid up and injured.

She is dressed normally. But normal, everyday clothes for anyone else on someone like Yeji, with her body—all sleek muscles and tight lines—is absolutely devastating.

Yeji works fast, a tornado of love and care clad in a dangerous pair of leggings, and in minutes she’s done, adding a finishing touch by spraying her perfume around the room, overpowering the sterile hospital scent with the sweet, floral notes that are uniquely hers—this is her space now, anyway.

Finally, she stops at the foot of your hospital bed, picking up your medical chart, reading it like she understands it all (actually, knowing Yeji, she probably got her medical degree on the way to the hospital just in case she deemed the doctors and nurses weren't doing a good enough job and she decided to take over).

“Hm,” is Yeji’s summary of your current condition. It’s cute, seeing her stare at the clipboard with a focus she usually reserves for the stage. “Eating well, no signs of deterioration in fine motor skills, very responsive, and very… friendly?”

You raise an eyebrow. “They wrote that down?”

“Attending physician: Dr. Park Yoona, Nurses: Roh Ji Yun, Jeon Jeong ah, Bae Hye Jin,” Yeji starts to read out the list of names—female names—and you start to hear the nails being hammered into your coffin, “Nurse Kim Ji Won—seriously, like the actress? All women. Hm.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed!” Maybe feigning ignorance would increase your chances of survival. “You’d think in this day and age there’d be more male nurses now though, right?”

“Hm,” it’s that noise again. “I’m glad to hear that while I was worried sick about you, desperately trying to get over here, you’ve been well taken care of. Must be nice surrounded by all these cute women in their little nurse outfits.”

“Oh, please,” you test a deflection, “they’re just doing their jobs.”

Yeji’s eyes bore into you. “One of these nurses dots her ‘I’s with love hearts.”

You can only sigh at your impending doom. It’s been a good life.

“Who do these women think they are?”

You switch up your strategy, trying another angle: “They’re medical professionals, Yeji, not strippers.”

“Right, medical professionals,” Yeji echoes, her tone thick with sarcasm, before she suddenly switches up, putting on her sweetest, and most uncomfortable, baby voice. “Oh no, such a big, strong man that needs help. Tell me where it hurts so I can rub it better for you!”

“Stop, stop,” you protest, as much as you would like her to rub it better, you still have your pride. “I barely even talk to them—they just do their check-ups and leave. I can’t even remember what they look like, they’re probably all just plain, old ladies.”

You regret the words as soon as you say them (you really should’ve seen this coming), because before you can get any further into your pitiful defence, the door to your room swings open, and in struts a young, cheery, bouncy woman.

“Is my favourite patient ready for another check-up?” You're already cringing at the nurse’s question—her voice a squeak that’s far too high-pitched and far too cute for a hospital. If anything, she looks like an actress playing the role of a nurse, in some bad movie where they clearly casted for looks over believability.

Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight of the new, endowed occupant of the room, and she reads the name on the nurse’s tag, pinned firmly over a set of scrubs that’s a few sizes too small, and you’re immediately reminded of her earlier threat to kill you with surprising clarity.

“Kim Ji Won,” Yeji reads out loud, before suddenly remembering herself, lowering a baseball cap over her eyes and slipping on a surgical mask, hiding her face from view. She turns away, pretending to fuss with the flowers on your bedside table.

“Oh!” The nurse exclaims, and you’re starting to feel the walls of what was once a luxurious hospital room start to close in. “I didn’t realise you had a guest,” she says, as light and cheerful as ever, “is she perhaps your… sister?”

Oh God, Yeji might really kill you after this. “No, no, no, she’s my—”

But Nurse JI Won ploughs onwards, having the gall (or lack of a sense of self-preservation) to turn to Yeji, and chat away. “Your brother has been the perfect patient! Me and all the other nurses just can’t get enough of him! He’s such a charmer!”

Yep. Definitely dying. It’s been a good life.

“Oh, oops!” Ji Won giggles, as she somehow drops the clipboard she was holding, sending papers scattering across the floor. “I’m so silly, give me a second to get it together!”

“No, no, it’s okay you don’t need to—” you try, but by now you should know better, “—bend over and pick it up.”

She’s already turned away from you, pointing her ass up and straight into the air, performatively picking up the pages one by one, taking her time so you can commit to memory the exact colour of the lacy thong peeking out of her pants.

It’s so blatant that you’re almost impressed, but compared to the practiced ease of your girlfriend, it’s a pale imitation. Still, your mind can’t resist making the comparison, even though there’s no ass in the world that can hold a candle to Yeji’s cheeks wrapped in sheer nylon.

Look at you, all loyal and shit—even in the face of all temptation, you’re still a committed boyfriend, through and through.

If only Yeji, who is now evaluating you with a glare as hot as a thousand suns, could know that your mind is filled with thoughts of just her… even as you're staring at Nurse Ji Won’s ass.

You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Aha, got it!” Ji Won is back on her feet, jumping with a cheer that suggests that maybe she could use a little more support, whilst completely immune to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. Yeji might as well be a ghost to her, the nurse looks only at you, scanning your body, searching for any new injuries that may have popped up since your last check-up.

If only she knew to just come back in an hour.

“It says here it’s about time to take out your IV!” Ji Won sunnily declares.

Consent isn’t a word that seems to exist in this nurse’s vocabulary, and she takes the opportunity to lean real close over you, pressing her ample chest against your side, making sure you get the full feel of her curves as she reaches across to the stand.

Of course, you don’t look—that would be insane. Instead your eyes are on Yeji, who’s definitely not looking at the nurse. No, she’s still boring a hole right through your skull, her hands holding a shredded flower, her knuckles turning white.

“Okay, that’s all done!” Ji Won chirps, and mercifully removes her breasts from your shoulder. “Hey, why are you acting all shy? You’re usually so much friendlier!”

“Oh?” Yeji makes a noise for the first time, and it terrifies you.

But again, the nurse pretends like she doesn’t even exist. “Let me check your heartbeat… And—”

“I’m sure it’s all fine and you can leave now, right—” You try a last-ditch effort to save this poor nurse’s life, but she’s clearly not taking the hint.

“Perfect as always, Mr. Metronome!” She says, writing down on her clipboard, clearly not noticing the seconds of her remaining lifespan ticking away. “We always talk about how you must work out so much to have a heart rate so low and consistent, I mean, obviously you do—look at you!”

You file her comments away as yet another reason your life is about to end, and try to push on, “so—I’m all good, right?”

“Of course you are,” Ji Won replies, turning the volume right up on the flirtiness, and her eyes flicker over to Yeji before she winks at you. “But I’ll just double-check everything before I go.”

“No, I think that’s enough!” Yeji breaks the conversation with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the poor nurse jumps from the sternness of her voice. “You said he’s fine, he said he’s tired, and so that means you can leave now!”

“Oh, he’s tired? Does he need extra pillows, or is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable?”

But Yeji already has her out the door, practically dragging the girl out of the room by her collar of her scrubs. “He’s fine!”

The door slams behind the nurse, but not before you hear her giggle, “Hey, you look familiar!”

An icy silence fills the room once the nurse is gone, thick and tense. Yeji doesn’t move for several beats, it’s eerie the way she just stands there, staring at the closed door of your hospital room.

Something clicks in her head, though, and she locks the door, turning back to you, seemingly having made a final decision on your fate.

“So…” you throw out a feeler, trying your best to move straight past, well, everything. “How’s the tour going?”

“Is she perhaps your sister?” Yeji’s voice jumps an octave, a perfect imitation of the high-pitched squeak that had just left the room. She turns to you, throwing the cap off her head and tearing the mask off her face. “Vomit.”

“I have no idea what that nurse was talking about,” you say, immediately making a case to plead your innocence.

“So gross!” Her words are dripping with pure disgust, but at least it isn’t directed at you (for now, anyway). “That’s it! We’re moving hospitals!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.”

“What is it with girls like that? Oh, you must work out a lot, I mean obviously you do!” Yeji continues her eerily uncanny impersonation. “Seriously, you’re an adult and you’re doing baby talk? ‘Perfect as always Mr. Metronome!”

“She’s just being nice, probably didn’t mean anything at all,” it’s a very weak argument you’re making, the only way the nurse could make her intentions more obvious were if she was wearing a bright neon sign that flashed ‘please fuck me!’.

“Bitch. Shameless! Hitting on my boyfriend in front of me. Acting so cute, so helpless—oops! I dropped my clipboard!” Yeji’s pouting now, fluttering her lashes, mimicking every blatant flirtation Nurse Ji Won had thrown your way.

“Really, we’re doing caricatures now?”

“Carica-what?” Yeji tilts her head to the side, and starts to sway her way over to you, her hips swinging from side to side with an exaggerated bounce. She’s playing it up to a T, making sure to sway, shake, to jiggle with each step she takes. “What does that word even mean? It’s such a big word. You must be really smart.”

Yeji settles into the role of the pretty, ditzy nurse far too easily, and her eyes tell you that she’s enjoying it far too much. For now though, you play along, clearing your throat and putting on your manliest voice—“I have been told I have a rather expansive vocabulary.”

“Wow, another big word,” Yeji’s at your bedside again, taking your hand into hers, looking up at you with wide-eyed awe. “Oh, you’re just so clever!” She giggles, as her other hand just so happens to come down on your thigh, leaving her free to squeeze and massage your muscles. “And so strong too! Do you work out?”

You grit your teeth as Yeji starts to trace her thumb in gentle circles over your skin, all the while staring up at you so innocently—she’s laying it on thick. “Sometimes…”

“I can tell…” Yeji continues, her voice trailing off as she runs her hand further up your thigh, light as a feather, but when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile, it’s if she’s dragging a live wire across your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as she leans in closer, lets her top hang a little loose, lets you get a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, parts those full, pouty lips of hers, her fingers tracing the contour of your leg as she moves higher and higher and higher, until her fingertips are on your—“Unbelievable! I cannot believe that actually works on you!”

“That’s unfair!” You shout in surprise, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “You can’t expect me not to react when you’re doing that!”

“Uh huh, I bet!” Yeji says, clearly not buying it. “You’re not at all attracted to the helpless, innocent, bouncy little slut that leans close so you can get a good view of her fat tits?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a singular pair of tits kind of guy.”

“This bitch,” Yeji curses under her breath, throwing her hands up in frustration. She unfortunately removes her hand from your leg, and plops herself down on your bed (it’s easily big enough for two), stewing in her emotions. You watch each cross her face: concern, jealousy, disbelief, a slight hint of amusement.

“Yeji,” you say, getting her attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m yours. That’s that.”

She stares back at you, her eyes light up at the declaration, and she punches your arm—your healthy one, of course. “You better be.”

It’s strange, seeing Yeji like this—so raw, so visibly affected by someone else’s attention on you. You’ve always thought of her as so strong, so confident, but there’s something in her possessiveness over you that is making you think about things that should definitely not happen in a hospital.

Fuck it, injuries be damned, without another word, you stretch forward and grab her by the waist, your good hand wrapping around her firmly, pulling her closer to you. She gasps, but doesn’t resist, no, she leans into your touch, her body melting into yours as if it’s been starved for affection.

You hold her tight, letting her settle into your embrace, and can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation you’re in. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me, you’re really not helping my blood pressure right now.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeji murmurs into your chest, but there’s no venom in her voice. Instead, it’s filled with something else entirely—something softer, more vulnerable. Her body relaxes against you, and you feel the tension in the room start to dissipate.

“Let’s not pretend that you weren’t enjoying acting like a helpless, little slut, Yeji,” you accuse, and Yeji’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” Yeji says, still hiding her face in your chest. “You and your ridiculous sexy nurse fantasy.”

“It’s a classic,” you shrug, before making an executive decision. “And this time, we actually have the right setting for it.”

Yeji looks around the room, shyly biting her lip. Again, all an act, she’s far too perceptive to not have the same thought on the forefront of her mind. “Here?”

“I saw you lock the door.” You catch the smirk that flashes across Yeji’s face. “Your mind is as filthy as mine, Yeji, I’m just better at vocalising it.”

“You think you can read my mind?”

“You know I can.” You lean in, your mouth finding hers in a soft kiss to prove your point—you didn’t need to ask to know that this is what she’s been after the whole time. Your lips find her forehead, “I can read your mind”—a kiss on her cheek—“your body”—and a whisper in her ear— “your pussy.”

You know you’re right by the hitch in Yeji’s breathing, how she leans into your touch, and when she straddles you without a second thought. Her thighs squeeze down against yours, the fabric of her yoga pants sliding against your hospital gown. She’s all soft curves and heat as she settles herself over you, her hands pressing down on your chest to keep herself steady.

“That nurse really riled you up, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeji steals another kiss from you, a moan muffled against your mouth. But yet, there’s the slight grind of hips—slow, deliberate friction, unbearable by design. “I’m just here to take care of my helpless boyfriend.”

“Yoga pants, Yeji. Again,” you say. “I saw it all. How you just so happened to need to stretch, or bend over, or lean just right,” you tease, even though it’s getting harder and harder to get your words out by the second. “You’re just as bad as her, only you’re way better at it.”

You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, the type of kiss you’ve been dying to give her since she first walked into the room, your tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting minty sweetness on her breath.

“And you look way fucking hotter than her when you do it, too.”

A smug smile plays on Yeji's lips as she's kissing you again. “I am the most beautiful woman in Korea.”

“The world,” you correct her.

“Goes without saying,” she finished. “’Extremely hot girlfriend’, if I remember correctly?”

“On fucking fire,” you summarise, and reach out to touch her, needing to feel her, but Yeji stops you placing your hand back on the bed.

She gives you a stern look, and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You’re the patient here, remember? You’re not allowed to do anything,” she says, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. Yeji leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You have to let the slutty nurse take care of you.”

You see it again—that switch—and Yeji gets more adventurous, cutting off your breath as she drags her hand down, sliding it under your thin hospital gown, walking her fingers back up your thigh. She stops just shy of your hardened cock, her eyes never leaving yours, revelling in your neediness for her, your want, before finally she takes a hold of you, her grip firm and tight and sure.

There’s heat in her palm, and she pulls a moan out of you and into her mouth as she starts to slowly stroke. It’s the softness of her hand against the growing stiffness of your shaft, her fingertips grazing your skin—you know you should be more careful, more considerate of where you are, but with Yeji’s touch, all rational thought is lost.

“I bet none of those bitch nurses could make you feel like this.” Yeji’s touch is a masterpiece of precision and passion, each movement calculated, practiced, she’s right—she’s the only one who knows how to touch you in just the perfect way to make you ache. Her fingers dance along your shaft, her grip tightening and loosening in a rhythm that only she can hear.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You groan, playing dumb, your mind filled with nothing but Yeji’s body on top of you, her fingers wrapped around you. “What other women?”

Yeji’s eyes narrow, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Good answer,” she whispers, rewarding you by moving faster now, each stroke deeper, more deliberate, reading your every reaction to the way she pumps you, timing her fingers with your stuttering breaths.

She likes—loves—taking care of you, making you feel good, there’s a thrill in it for her, knowing that she’s the one who can make you this vulnerable, this desperate. Her hand moves with confidence, her strokes become more insistent, her gaze hungrier, and she leans forward, pressing herself into your chest, letting you feel the softness of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer, like she can’t feel your hips bucking up to meet her touch. "Do you like it when I take care of you?"

You nod, unable to form words, unable to do anything but keep your eyes on Yeji and marvel at just how fucking hot she is on top of you as she strokes you. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, tickling your neck and cheeks, and her eyes—those piercing, all-knowing eyes—affixed to yours, holding you hostage.

“God, I love this cock,” Yeji murmurs between kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “so big, so hard… All mine…” She’s so satisfied, so happy with herself—with your cock—her constant praise as much for her as it is for you. “Fuck, look how big you’re getting for me, barely fits in my hand.”

“God, Yeji,” you gasp, struggling to keep together, to keep from losing yourself in the palm of her hand, as each of her strokes, each of her words, keep coming, stroking your cock, your ego, fucking with you completely. “I’m getting close—”

“Not yet.” Yeji lets you go, leaving you panting, your tortured cock standing tall and missing her attention.

Before you can even mount a protest, she’s sliding up your body, stretching above your head to grab the hospital bed remote, smothering you with the soft mounds of her breasts as she does so. You groan into her, forced to feel the weight of her pressing down on you, the warmth of her skin against yours, teasing you in a way that’s both infuriating and heavenly.

With a click, the bed whirs into action, reclining back until you're flat on your back, staring directly up at her. She kneels over your head, and there’s the outline of her pussy through the fabric of her leggings, all swollen and damp and begging for your tongue.

She doesn’t have to look to know she has your undivided attention—she's pulling her shirt and her top over her head, setting her breasts, ripe and full, bouncing free from their confinement. No bra today (of course she didn’t, what would be the fucking point?) and you get a full view of those perfect tits, her dark, pebbled nipples already stiff for you.

“It’s your turn to take care of me.”

Yeji lowers herself onto your waiting mouth, lets out a noise that’s so needy, so fucking greedy, as your lips meet her heat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You kiss, lick, nibble at her, tease her, groan into her thighs, as she urges herself against you, making you breathe in the scent of her sex, so immediately wet for you.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you—you need to feel her against your lips, your tongue. You move your hand up her thigh and towards her hip, digging your fingers into her waistband. But Yeji stops you again, and says the four most pleasant words in any language. “Just fucking rip them.”

There’s no hesitation—she lifts her hips off your face, you snake your hand between her legs, take one end of the fabric between your fingers, and another in your teeth: one quick, sharp yank, and you tear. The nylon gives way with a satisfying rip, and Yeji shivers above you as the cool air hits her full, puffy, exposed cunt.

“Mmmph, yesssss,” Yeji hisses as you pull her back down onto your lips, shuddering as you kiss that lovely crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, her pleasure vibrating through your own skull. She quivers, shifts, needy for your lips on her naked pussy, and she pleads, “stop teasing… I need it…”

You smile against her skin, your breath ghosting over her pussy, making her squirm. "What's the magic word?"

"Now," Yeji says, her voice firm, her thighs so magnificently tense. "The magic word is now."

With that, you give her a long lick, starting from the very bottom of her pussy and moving upward, tasting every millimetre of her juicy cunt, tracing the entire length of her slit, ending with an indulgent flick of her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Yeji cries out, shivering, falling apart as your tongue finds that sweet spot, her thighs tightening around your neck. Her hands come down to either side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as she starts to rock back and forth, setting her own rhythm, matching her hips with the pace of your tongue. “God, you’re so fucking good at that, always so fucking good at that.”

She’s whining, so, so desperate, so pleading, and you’re eager as you taste her, explore her, will her to come apart in your mouth. You’re taking generous licks, tongue dancing around her clit, teasing it, testing her full vocal range as she cries out your name

“Oh, please, please baby, fucking please.” She’s getting wetter and wetter, coating your tongue, your lips, your chin. “I missed this,” she gasps, grinding herself against your tongue, all desperation and utter awe. “Missed you making me feel so fucking good.”

You look up, up at her as she rides your face, she’s so fucking breathtaking. Her body tensing around you and on top of you—so tight, so firm—chiselled abs honed by decades of dancing, that gorgeous curve of her waist leading up to her perky, petite tits, so lovely, bouncing with every gasp she takes.

"I'm so wet for you, honey, so fucking wet," Yeji whimpers, “you always make me so fucking wet—I can’t—ah!”

A sharp inhale, you suck her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the sensitive nub. She’s moaning so fucking loud, so unrestrained, echoing through the hospital room and down the hallways, loud enough to let every nurse on the floor know exactly how fucking good it feels to be on top of you. Her hips jerk, she can’t control her own body now, and you know she’s getting closer and closer, determined to ride your tongue right to the end.

Just looking at her is all it takes for you—seeing her so damn horny, so satisfied sets you on edge, needing something, anything to take your cock and match her euphoria.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” Yeji’s reading your mind. You groan and affirmative into the folds of her cunt, and in an instant, you go from being smothered by her juices to being faced with the full, perfect tautness of her ass.

She makes it look so easy, so graceful, lifting herself off your face and spinning around to this new position—face down, ass up.

A second later and your wishes are granted—your cock, so heavy with need, standing neglected and alone is met by Yeji’s soft, warm lips, kissing the very tip of you, tasting the drops of pre-cum that’s already leaking out of you.

“Let me make you feel better,” is all Yeji says—just one light kiss, a whisper into your cock, and she dives onto you, swallowing your cock whole. It’s far too much, far too quickly, you’re out of breath and ready to tap out as her warm, wet mouth envelopes your whole rod in one, smooth suck.

Her tongue swirls around you, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she takes you deeper and deeper, until you’re buried down her throat. You throb inside her, her throat muscles contracting back around you, and you can’t help but thrust up into her mouth, seeking more, needing more.

“Yeji!” You cry out her name on reflex as she takes you in, her hands digging into your thighs as she works her mouth up and down, bobbing, taking you deep and noisily, smacking her lips, sloshing her tongue. Whatever pain you had lingering from your arm, your head, or your ribs, it’s all forgotten—there’s only Yeji, and her exquisite lips, doing everything she can to wring every drop of pleasure out from your body.

It's too much, too intense, and you’ve been on the edge since she first grabbed a hold on you. This can’t end now, not when she’s sucking you so hard, practically worshipping your cock. You need a distraction—pull her hips back, gently, firmly, push that beautiful ass back into your face and indulge in her again.

“Mmmph—!” Yeji moans into you as your tongue meets her cunt, the sound reverberating down your shaft and right into your brain.

And now it’s a competition—you push through her pussy with her tongue, feel her walls tightening around you. She’s pushing back into you, grinding down on you, making sure you get the full flavour of her cunt, her ass, every inch of her on your taste buds.

She’s more frantic now, moving faster, sloppier on your cock as you push her closer and closer to climax. Her tongue slides against you, her cheeks hollow out around you, she drools and dribbles down your shaft—it’s messy and wet and absolutely fucking amazing.

But you can’t let her win, not this time. You double down on your efforts, suctioning your lips over her clit and start rapidly flicking your tongue, setting a relentless pace that you know will make her crumble. She tries her best to keep up, to keep going, but she’s a mess of sucking and moaning and quivering all over your face and on your cock.

Yeji works her tongue, her lips, her mouth—she makes sure you know it’s all yours. But then, after taking you all the way to the back of her throat, your cock pops out of her mouth with a wet smack, and she lets out a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—FUCK!”

She collapses, bent over and prone, only her ass rocking and grinding against your face as she utterly, completely falls apart, ruined by just your tongue, ruined by the orgasm you’re giving her.

“So good—God—fuck—keep going, keep going, keep going!” Yeji’s voice is a chant, a prayer that you’re more than happy to answer. She’s shaking, her pussy pulsing against your face as you lick and suck at her clit, clouding your mind with the heady mix of sweetness and desire that has you hooked. She’s lost, given up and given over to you now, her moans becoming screams—“your tongue, your fucking tongue—gah!”

Her body geos rigid, locking up as she hits that wonderful peak—but you’re not ready to stop. You keep licking, keep pushing through wave after wave of pleasure that crash over her, not giving a second of rest. Her juices flood your mouth and you swallow greedily, drinking her in like it’s the only medicine you need.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fucking making me feel so good—God!”

Nothing fucking matters, all you know is Yeij’s cunt is on your tongue and her ass is in your face, and your only job is to keep licking her to her core, until she finally goes slack, crumbling on top of you.

She stays like that, her legs shaking like she’s just run a marathon, her nipples squashed against your chest, her gasps hot and ragged against your thigh. You can feel the staccato of her heart, and you hold her close, massaging her lower back as she does her best to catch her breath.

And yet, there you are, still throbbing, still so fucking hard and delirious with your need for her touch.

There’s no point in hiding it, she’s so close you can feel her breath on your cock, your close enough to poke her eye out with how hard you are.

“Someone’s feeling left out,” she says, as if she’s not entirely to blame. “Is that for me?”

“You know it is,” you respond, far weaker, more pleading than you intended.

A gentle, torturous kiss against your thigh, and you’re just about ready to explode in her face. “Then I guess as your dutiful, loving, girlfriend, I better do something about it.”

It’s so easy for her—one moment she’s exhausted, out of breath on top of you, the next she’s fully recovered, back on top and mounting you, facing you as she smears the tip of your cock with her wetness.

You try to sit up, eager to get straight to it, straight to fucking her like you need to, but her hands are on your shoulders and she’s pushing you back down.

“Lie down, baby,” she hushes you, pressing you down onto the mattress. “Just enjoy this.”

Her eyes narrow as she drinks in the sight of you, bursting with anticipation as she lowers her pussy onto your cock. It’s a special kind of torment, one that makes your hips buck involuntarily, so impatient to feel her warmth again.

But she takes her sweet time, and it’s only when she’s close enough, she bends down, mouth hovering over yours. Your eyes drift shut, and you wait for that soft contact of her lips, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, she whispers, "I've got you," and you feel the warm, velvety embrace of her cunt as she takes you in, inch by agonising inch.

Fully seated, her walls close around you, and that’s when she kisses you hard, her tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth with the same aching hunger of her cunt around your cock.

She tastes so damn good, feels incredible—it’s been too long, and you want nothing but to grab her, hold her and slam her hips down onto yours and drive deeper into her, but your body won’t cooperate.

You can only lay there as she starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, slowly, intentionally, having you seeing stars. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, she lifts herself up off your cock, and in one swift motion, sinks herself straight back down, whispering “holy fuck yesss” against your lips.

She needs time to get used to you, used to your cock filling her whole again. “This fucking cock,” she bites your lip as she rides you, “always so big, always so perfect.”

Yeji has to take it slow, has to let her pussy stretch around you, adjust to you, before she can start to ride you, to fuck you like she really wants to. And she does want to—wants to claim you, erase any doubt about who is the one person that can fuck you like you deserve to be—so, so much.

Each movement down the length of your cock is faster than the one before, each moan into your mouth hotter, each clench of her cunt around yours so much tighter, until she’s fucking you in earnest—harder, faster.

“So thick, so, so, riiiiight,” Yeji groans.“I’ve missed this, needed this.”

She’s riding you like she’s been waiting for this forever, like this might be the last time, bouncing her ass up and down, her eyes hooded with lust, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her nipples swinging every time your hips meet.

“When you get better, honey, I need you to fuck me real hard,” Yeji whispers in your ear, her breath hot and tickling, thick with lust, her tight cunt milking you, keeping you on the edge of insanity. “But I’ll take care of you for now, I’ll take care of this cock—fuck I love it—I love you—I love that you’re mine.”

“You’re mine too, Yeji,” you groan back to her.

“That’s right—I belong to you and you belong to me,” Yeji punctuates her point with a hard slam of her cunt down onto your cock. "You're My. Fucking. Boyfriend."

She’s getting faster and faster now, picking up her pace, like she needs to prove something, to herself, to you, to the entire fucking hospital.

“Those other bitches can’t ride you like I do—can’t fuck you like I do,” Yeji’s panting, each word fucked out of her, coming out like a proud battle cry. She’s right, you’re sure of it—no one else can make you feel this way, no one else can take you, claim you like she can. She’s lost in it now, lost in the heat and the friction, her whole body consumed by a burning desire to show you just how good she is at this.

Yeji leans back, sitting upright, giving herself better leverage to bounce on your cock, giving you a better view of her body—all perfectly sculpted edges and soft curves—and those fucking perky tits. They’re stunning, just like the rest of her, and you reach for them on instinct, cupping the soft mounds, feeling the weight of them in your palm. Her nipples are so hard, erect, begging for your touch, and you don’t want to disappoint—could never—so you pinch and twist them, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy tighten around you as she cries out.

“No one can take this big fucking cock like I can—down my throat, in my cunt.” It’s a declaration—loud and proud, for every single person in the hospital to know.

“Jealous?” You grunt out the word, hoarse, rough. “Thinking about me fucking other woman like I fuck you? Making them scream—making them cum as hard as I’m about to make you?”

You can see the twist in Yeji’s face, how her pupils dilate as your words sink in. There’s a war playing out on her face, jealousy and desire, the mere thought of you fucking other woman making her pussy spasm around you. “Oh, fuck you! You would ruin them, honey, they wouldn’t be able to take you. Or is that what you want to hear? Some cute bitch screaming: ‘oh baby, oh please, oh daddy, I can’t take it—I can’t take this big fucking cock!’”

There’s truth in the mockery, and there’s a dark thrill in Yeji’s jealousy. But now’s not the time for anything (or anyone) else but her—you’re too close, too far gone, your cock throbbing with the need to spill into her.

“Only I can take it, it’s mine, mine, mine.” She’s soaking you, so needy, so deep, so fucking filthy as she whines over your cock. “You better keep fucking me—only me—or I will make your life hell.”

“Show me then,” you challenge her, and you can see something flash across her eyes—something primal, something rough.

“I’m yours,” she declares again, riding you in a way that can only be described as pure art, her whole body moving in perfect harmony with a singular goal—to be absolutely wrecked by your cock. “All yours, nobody else’s. And you’re mine.”

It takes one hard pump into her tight, sweaty body and she’s falling into you, her body pressed on top of you, her forehead pressed against yours. It’s electric, the connection between your bodies, a jolt of pleasure surging through your cock and her cunt until all that matters is the feel of her fucking you like her life depends on it.

It’s love at every thrust, every gasp and moan. Nothing but Yeji on top of you, her soft skin pressed against you, her heartbeat racing against yours, her wetness coating your cock like a silk glove. Not just pleasure, you’re claiming each other—she’s whispering it in your ear, whispering your name like a promise, a declaration of war against anyone who would dare to come between you.

“Fuuuck.” Yeji bites down on your shoulder, digs her nails in your skin, squeezes her pussy around you like a vice. “I’m gonna do it again,” she mewls, “this cock—your beautiful cock—is gonna make me cum all over again.”

She’s chasing that precious feeling, desperate for it, her hips moving in erratic circles, determined to bring you with her. You can feel it too, the beginnings rising from the base of your cock, the tension in your balls. You want to hold on, to make this last, but at this point it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave.

“Give—fuck—give me more!” Yeji’s eyes are squeezed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream as she grinds down on you, her body trembling with the effort to keep her balance. You can see the tension in every line of her body, how her abs clench, her toes curl. It's like watching a live wire, and you're the one holding the current. "Nobody can fuck me like you do—fuck—nobody can take you like I can!"

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, wrenching control from her, making her prove her words with every forceful thrust. You’re going to be in pain later, but fuck all that—Yeji’s so wet, so tight, so fucking hot—she’s a force of nature, and you’re just the lucky fuck that gets to be in the eye of the storm.

“You’re going to cum in me, now, okay? I’m going to cum so fucking hard and then you’re going to cum right inside me.” Yeji’s completely given herself over to you, letting you fuck her, use her, she’s all yours anyway. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

And then she’s there, her cunt gripping you like a fist, her walls pulsing and quivering around you. Yeji’s eyes fly open, her gaze locks onto yours, and she’s cumming hard.

Her orgasm rips through her body, she’s choking your cock with pussy, muscles tightening and release in a painful rhythm, and all she can do is shake and cry out every filthy word she knows, every sweet noise she can make as she spills and creams and comes apart on top of you.

“It’s too much,” Yeji’s barely holding on, panting incessantly, “too-fucking-much—too-fucking-much!”

The way she looks, the way she fucks, the way she cums—it’s a thing of beauty, an absolute fucking honour to witness—every twitch, every shiver, every gasp that falls from her swollen lips. Her nails pierce your skin, her teeth threaten to draw blood, her eyes wide and wild as her climax crashes over her.

“Please-please-fucking-please!”

But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she’s becoming more insistent, more urgent, fucking back against you again, her hips moving in a blur, taking you like a woman possessed. She’s pleading for you, pleading for you to give in, to let go, to follow her into bliss. Yeji’s a woman on a mission—to make you feel her, to make you fill her and you realise that maybe this isn’t just about jealousy anymore—it’s about making you know in every fibre of your being that your cum belongs in her cunt and her cunt only.

"Give it to me," Yeji demands, “I need you to—please—fuck—cum in me!”

Every word’s a trigger, sending you spiralling over the edge. It’s been building for an eternity now, an unbearable pressure needing to find a home in Yeji’s scorching, sopping wet pussy.

“Kiss me—I need you to—need to taste—fuck—please—kiss me now!”

There’s nothing left to do but obey, bringing your hand to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a fierce, bruising kiss. Your mouths crash together, your tongues dance and entangle, your teeth clash, and all the while Yeji’s clenching around you, cunt contracting in an effort to keep you still, keep you together.

“Fill me.”

A final, triumphant spear into her and your gone—releasing, spurting your cum deep inside her—so hard, so hot, so intense, emptying everything, all of you, every last drop into her greedy pussy.

“Yesssssss—this—this is what I needed.” Yeji hums a satisfied note into your collarbone, so full, so complete, so content. She’s still slowly rocking her hips back and forth, still pulsing around you, milking you dry. “I feel so…full.”

She dissolves into a puddle in your arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. Your hand finds its way to her back, tracing gentle circles, rubbing away the tension that’s been built up, the strain she’s put her body through.

She’s warm, she's so alive, and you can feel her heart beating against your chest, a stilted, hurried rhythm that's gradually slowing down. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere you can reach without having to strain yourself. It’s a gentle reassurance, making sure that for all the fucking and the filthiness, she knows that no matter what happens, you’re there to make sure she’s okay.

Yeji whispers an “I love you,” her words like a balm to your soul. “I really, really, fucking love you, you know?”

“I know, Yeji,” you say, low enough for only her to hear. “I really, really, fucking love you too.”

There’s still the embers of your shared climax resonating through your bodies, the come down from an epic high that’s left the two of you a tangled mess of limbs and hospital sheets. You both lay there, Yeji’s pussy still spasming around your cock, your cum and her juices dribbling down and pooling between your bodies.

“I was really worried about you.” Yeji whispers, vulnerable. The admission hangs in the air above you, a stark reminder of the fear and insecurity that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. “When they called me, I thought—I—I fucking hated that feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s all there is left to say.

“And I am really pissed about these nurses,” Yeji adds with a deadly seriousness, that only makes you smile. “I’m moving you to another hospital as soon as I can.”

“We just might have to after this,” you murmur, stroking her hair as you catch your breath. “No way they didn’t hear any of that.”

“Good.” Yeji declares, a little too intensely, too smugly.

You look down at her and can’t help but chuckle. “Well aren’t you all happy and copacetic now?”

Yeji looks back at you, pauses, and then grins. “Copa-what-tic?”

You can only roll your eyes. “Copacetic.”

“Wow,” Yeji starts, her voice back up an octave, laced with sickly sweetness. “Such a big, complicated word. You’re so smart.”

“Uh huh.”

“And these muscles too! Look at you all pumped and sweaty. Have you been working out?” Yeji teases, her cheeks still flushed a bright pink shade. She reaches down to give your bicep a gentle squeeze, mouthing an exaggerated ‘wow’ in amazement of its size.

“I did just finish a pretty intense workout. Might’ve even got another concussion from having my brains fucked out.”

“In that case, as your nurse it’s my responsibility to get you good and clean.” Yeji’s kissing you again, soft and slow. “Come on now, let me give you a good, nice scrub.”

“Is this going to be a reciprocal thing, you wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Yeji slides off your cock, peeling herself off your sticky body, and lifts herself up and off the bed.

You watch as she stretches, her body a glorious mess of grace and sweat and cum, and for a moment you’re just in awe of her. She’s glowing, and she’s not even trying.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Yeji winks, already sauntering away from you and towards the bathroom, her hips swaying, her ass calling for you with each perfect bounce. “It’s time for some serious physical therapy. Nurse’s orders.”

#kpop smut #yeji smut #itzy smut #male reader

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iuchamjohta · 1 month ago

Text

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!

==========

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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inklore · 6 months ago

Text

does it feel good?

— qimir x f!reader

premise: he is your beginning, the whole reason you have made peace with the darkness inside your head, and you know someday he may become your end. whether by his saber or by him finally consuming completely. you welcome both.

contents: established master x acolyte dynamics, shared force bond, unprotected p in v, foreplay, light choking, biting, scars and burn marks mentioned, death, teasing, over stimulation | wc: 2.7k+

note: i love that we all saw the water scene and went yeah that's for the smut writers. glad we are collectively going insane over this man.

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body.

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight.

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue.

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh.

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles.

The ringing hasn’t stopped.

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones.

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state.

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched.

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below.

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled.

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones.

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side.

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse.

A quiet mind is a blessing.

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him.

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately.

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed.

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed.

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure.

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many.

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way.

Your true self.

Your full potential and all you were capable of.

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long.

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface.

Just you and the force.

Just you and the water.

Until you feel him.

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids.

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight.

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of.

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn.

“You did well tonight.”

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones.

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it.

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon.

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?”

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse?

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be.

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness.

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact.

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take.

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen.

Accepted.

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders.

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head.

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally.

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes.

How you’re rewarded when you impress him.

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one.

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine.

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him.

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips.

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.”

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass.

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him.

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it.

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough.

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him.

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side.

Of being free.

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind.

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body.

Qimir consuming every last part of your being.

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm.

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw.

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?”

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now.

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside.

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come.

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge.

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame.

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm.

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment.

“You can do better than one. You deserve it, don’t you?”

#qimir x reader #qimir x you #the acolyte x reader #qimir smut #the stranger x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader #laur writes star wars

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prael · 3 months ago

Text

Currents

Kinktember Day 12: Electrophilia

Aespa Winter x male reader smut

words: 3,194 Kinktember Masterlist

"Sign here. Here. And here."

"And what's this for, exactly?" Winter asks, pointing a dainty finger at the paperwork.

"Protection. When someone like you enters a place like this, I need you to sign a waiver stating that you're of sound mind and know what you're doing."

"My mind is far from sound," she says with a playful wink.

Winter takes the pen from your hand. Her nails are painted a matte red with glittery bits at the tips. When she scrawls out Kim Minjeong on the dotted lines, it looks akin to an intricate piece of calligraphy. She places the pen on top and slides it back across the desk. "Now. I've signed and paid. Can we get to the fun?"

With a smile and a nod, you wordlessly guide her to the room she paid for. On the way, you take a few glances back at her, there's this keen expression of wonderment as she spots rooms for every type of fetish she might one day indulge in. Little ideas fired around her mind. What she might try next and how it may very well send her to heights of pleasure unforeseen. She must feel your gaze upon her, as a small giggle and coy smile creep on her face, and she asks in a small voice, "What?"

"Nothing," you say as you pull open the door at the end on the right. "You just have this look about you."

"A good look, I hope?"

She walks through the threshold. As the door closes behind you, the neon strips light up the room in a pale violet. Black leather and cushions cover almost every surface and all the other items seem so insignificant around the electrified bed in the middle. "Intrigue and excitement are always a good look in a place like this."

Winter's eyes alight as if someone had set a flame to a blanket of kindling. "This place... it's amazing." The corners of her mouth inch towards her ears as her gaze sweeps every nook and corner of the room, from the hanging metal chains and restraints to the riding crops and collars lined up by size, perfectly uniformed and orderly on their wooden mounts. Her gaze settles on a coil of rubberized cable as the width of her pupil increases, darkening her eyes. "I thought I would be nervous, but..."

Winter steps further into the room, you watch her take delicate steps as she stares at the centre-piece, the bed that will soon become her salvation, her ruin, her desire personified. She takes her jacket off and carelessly drops it on the floor as she spins back towards you, her eyes are wild and yet bright with lust as her tongue runs over her top row of teeth.

"I'm so excited," she confesses. "It's... exhilarating."

She steps close to you, her breath washing against your neck, sending an enticing thrill down the base of your skull.

"How would you like me? And don't go easy on me okay? I might look fragile..." Winter steps back a couple of times, letting you size her up as if you haven't been doing it since the moment she walked it. "but I'm not."

"Let's start by getting you fitted with a little something," you say as you walk to the side, picking out the perfect shock collar to fit Winter. Something thin would be best, is what you decide. Such a slender frame as hers wouldn't suit a big chunky collar.

"Yes, please," Winter says, making an energetic skip up to your side and resting her hand on your shoulder. "Something light is usually my colour."

"I think so too. Something skinny too. Ah, I know just the one."

After a brief scan along the top three rows, you spot the perfect collar to suit her. It's a light pink, it's her size and looks as delicate and attractive as she is.

"Oh my. That's... so cute," she sighs.

You pull it from its hook and open it. "Now, come here winter. Let me put it on you. Make sure it fits."

Obedient and happy to comply, Winter eagerly steps forward, craning her neck back slightly. Her breaths are even and calm as she closes her eyes. "There's something so... vulnerable about being collared. It's intoxicating," she explains.

"Do you want to know why?"

Winter's mouth opens but she stays quiet.

"Because girls like you, get a kick from relinquishing control. Once the collar's around your neck, you become mine. Completely. Whatever I say goes, isn't that so? And if you don't, you get a shock."

The silence grows until she begins to nod her head gently. "That's exactly it... I have a taste for the painful stuff. For the hurt and submission."

You loop the collar around Winter's neck. It fits as though it were made for her. Tightly fitted, enough to lightly choke her, enough to make sure the contacts within it touch her skin. You take the remote in hand and fiddle with the dial. A mild charge hums from the wires as they heat, preparing to punish.

"That's an agreeable buzz," she whispers with closed eyes. "Perfect."

"Perfect indeed. Now, Winter, on your knees for me." You barely give her a chance to process the request before you determine she has taken too long, and hit the button on the control. A low crackle emanates as it pumps voltage into her neck. Enough for the contacts to spark a single charge through her. Just a sharp sting of pain for a split second before she cries out. Her knees buckle, sending her to the floor, one hand grabbing at the collar as the other seeks a stable point in the soft black mats covering the room.

"Agh— f—fuck," she swears quietly as she gasps for air. "That hurt. So good." Her breaths are quick, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her eyes are wide with delight.

"Top, off."

With trembling hands, Winter holds the hem of her black top. This time you give her all the time she needs to take it off, but she doesn't. "Shock me, I'm a bad girl."

Without hesitation you bring a bigger jolt through the collar, causing her whole body to quiver. Winter shouts and winces, but the smile on her face as she takes it, and pulls her top over her head, tells you that everything's going to plan.

With her top now on the floor and no bra ever being underneath it, you observe how gorgeous she looks. With her small breasts, tiny frame and mischievous face. You stand in place and look, taking her body in and enjoying it. Her waist is so slim, and when her breath quickens, it accentuates that little curve of her abdomen, even a hint at the grooves on each side of her lower stomach.

"Again," she pleads, with puppy dog eyes that are part-glazed.

"You do have a taste for being hurt," you respond as you turn the voltage dial on the collar a little more. A click of your thumb later, and this time she yells louder. Tears well up in her eyes, but her smile only widens.

"I do," Winter pants out the two syllables like they're the only words she knows. "I do. I do. I do."

She repeats it over and over until you hit it again. Her knuckles go white as her body tightens. Muscles bunching in her back and in her arms and legs. Her lithe body trembling through another delicious jolt.

You reach down and grab her by the neck, fingers catching her just under the shock collar. A strangled gasp bursts from between her lips as her wide and eager eyes stare right at you, wet with lust. You pull her to her feet. There's no resistance, nor do you expect there to be. Once she's on her feet, she rushes her mouth to yours. A desperate, needy kiss. Hungry and moaning into your lips.

You break her away from you by pushing her back, sending her stumbling towards the bed. "Those shorts. Take them off."

The delighted gleam of hunger and sadism in your eye isn't lost on Winter. She quickly shakes her head, hoping to earn herself another round of pain.

"Think you deserve more? Think you've been a good enough girl?" You ask, taking a step closer. "Shorts first, then I'll treat you."

Winter does as she is told and lets her denim shorts fall. And just like her top, there's nothing beneath. An amused smile appears as her eyebrows bounce once, and she says, "Surprise!" in the most cute manner.

"I have to say, Winter, everything about you is a surprise. Such a cute little thing you are, but so devious too. I'd love to take you apart, bit by bit."

"Take me however you'd like," she chimes in.

"Yeah?" You turn away from her naked, helpless body and to the desk, picking up the prod and flick the switch to make it come alive. "With this?"

You turn and present the long silver rod, where at the end of it, two metal prongs protrude. You push the button and an arc of electricity forms between them. Winter's eyes roll back, and her thighs press tightly together. She squeezes her own chest as she whispers, "Please," over and over.

Slowly, you stalk toward Winter, you can almost see the ache radiating from her like she is a bomb ready to explode. Then suddenly, before she has a chance to register what's happening, you stab the prod forward into her left calf. Winter spasms and convulses, her teeth clench and her hands grasp at nothing but air. She wails in painful, tortured delight and falls to one knee.

Her other leg now too.

"Yes," she squeals, "F... Fuck. Thank you."

You grab a fist full of her blonde locks, twisting them tightly between your fingers as you drag back to her feet. "On the bed. Now," you tell her, your voice as ice cold as the lack of emotion on your face.

She whimpers as you pull her hard until she's flat on her back in the centre of the bed. It's about waist height, and you look down at her lithe, naked frame. Strands of blonde hair stick to her cheeks from perspiration and tears of pleasure. Her limbs tremble in aftershocks from the latest barrage of electricity that was shot through her, and her skin glistens.

"Please... Again. Please," she whimpers, a feeble creature now after the latest shock. "I'm so wet." Winter shifts one leg higher, spreading herself, and tilting her hips. With one hand you reach into her, plunging two fingers into her cunt.

"Fuck." She lets out a deep gasp and turns her head to look up at you, lips trembling, wet with her own spit, and asks again for more.

You withdraw your fingers and push the prod against her abdomen. Without hesitation, you make her body buck and her cry cut through the still air of the room. Winter yells and twists, kicking her feet wildly into the air as she twitches in her spot. When you stop she lies flat, panting and gasping and eyes streaming. She buries her own fingers into her cunt now.

"Please do it again, I'm going to cum." Her voice is croaky and scratchy from yelling but still thick with urgency and desire.

Another shock.

Another twitch of muscles.

Another shock.

Another scream, and then finally, Winter throws her head back as her pussy tightens around her own fingers and spasms and writhes as waves of pleasure and pain hit her simultaneously. She cries out incoherent words. Scratches her nails at her own thighs while rubbing her clit through her orgasm. Winter shakes and trembles before you, her mouth hung agape.

She's still cumming and this time you hit the button for the collar around her neck. The brief, sharp flash makes her shake harder. The pitch of her orgasmic scream pitches higher.

"Again," Winter calls.

One last time.

You jolt her again, and Winter reaches a fevered pitch as she shakes with more ecstasy than any one person could take. Her whole body is trembling as one large, unceasing wave of pleasure sweeps through every part of her body. The lewd expressions of overwhelming satisfaction as she slowly comes back down are almost enough for you to fuck her, and right there and then, you are tempted.

You throw the shock prod, now it's time to make the bed do the work. Winter has no fight in her as you take hold of her wrists and then ankles, fastening them one by one in bindings that hold her spread and vulnerable. There's a strap for her upper arm too, and her thighs, and finally across her slutty little waist. You make them all tight, and they're all wired up.

"What—? What are you doing?" Winter questions, turning her neck to take stock of the restraints.

You simply ignore her question and focus on attaching the last restraint, that sits across her upper chest, just below her collar bones. Then you walk across the room and press a large red button. A thrumming of electricity hums through the metal bars. Every contact point on her body warms up and a chorus of muffled cracks and sparks come to life around Winter.

"This is special," Winter mutters to herself, her tone hinting at awe. She struggles against her bonds and they're secure. Tight and secure. Even with that futile exertion, she has no escape and smiles at that realization. "Looks like you have me trapped. Can you really hurt a pretty little idol like me? Can you go as far as I need you to?"

Winter swallows hard as she watches your mouth twist into a malevolent sneer.

You hit the button.

She starts to shake. The moan from her lips is loud and almost primal, the exhale laced with pain and excitement. She moans out loud, thrashing against her shackles, her small body thrusting back and forth as the lowest setting courses through her.

You stand over her, looking down and watching the way her muscles tense and her fingers clench. Her toes curl and the moans grow louder, and more frequent. More desperate, she can barely get a word out but she still pleads for more, the word yes spewing from her lips amidst an unending list of other slurred sounds.

You leave her there for a moment, struggling, while you slide your hand into a thick rubber glove, working it up your arm.

"Please make me cum," Winter pants through an agony of pleasure.

You walk back to her, pressing your hand against her flat stomach. She trembles under your touch, you can feel the way her body vibrates through the glove. Her eyes go wide with fear and excitement.

"Hurry, it's so good!" Winter squirms against the bonds but can't move an inch. You take your time looking between her thighs, at her soft and bare cunt, a shade of pink between two rosy folds. It's so slick as her pussy begins to trickle with her lust.

The thick rubber of the glove goes into her hole and makes Winter yelp like the pathetic submissive slut that she is. You stretch her pretty little pussy so easily, thanks to how creamy it is. She's so messy. At the same time, you raise a thumb to the control and push it up a notch.

An explosion of lightning and a sensation between her legs and another strangled moan of desperation. Her head whips from side to side. "I can't, oh shit," Winter manages to blurt out, her voice reduced to a pathetic squeak.

With your finger hooking into her sensitive spot, and her body stimulated with an electrical current, Winter doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. You fuck her hard and rough with your hand until your arm begins to ache. You play with the current of the bed and the collar, sending shocks through her when she least expects it. She climaxes before long, her legs pulling taut at the restraints. She cries, "More!" as she loses herself to the pulses of her orgasm.

And as her back arches as best as it can, she floods over your glove with cum and screams for it. Winter's release is incredible, it gushes all over you, but you just don't let up. She's absolutely out of control and has to suffer more. Winter can't escape any part of her restraints as they don't give up shocking her through her orgasm, one after the other.

Her face twists in the most fucked up combination of pain and pleasure. It's an incredible sight.

You're just pounding her tight little cunt. Stretching it as it gushes out all the cum she has to give. Her body struggles against all the different sensations. She just keeps spilling out onto the bed as her body shakes.

It's only when she starts to choke out her moans that you finally twist the dial down to zero. It takes a few seconds to turn it completely off but the damage was done. Winter is heaving for air and when you slowly withdraw the digit buried inside her, pulling the plug on her cum spilling out.

"Wait a second," she breathes out in between pants, "let me just..." Winter stares up at the ceiling as she works on stabilising her breathing. When the world seems to slow back to an acceptable pace, her lips turn up into a joyous little smile. "Shit," Winter winces as her hips buck, the throb in her core making her moan ever so softly. "I think I made a mess."

You lift your wrist and nod as if to agree. "You made a lot of a mess."

Her pale skin has turned flush and warm with a sheen of sweat from exertion. She takes a deep breath, letting the sensation of the electrocution linger. Winter looks radiant, so beautiful that the urge to do all those things you wanted to come bubbling back. But you stay strong, despite how tempting her glistening little body is as her chest rises and falls.

"No regrets though," Winter comments, stretching against the confines of her restraints. "I've never cum like that before in my life."

"It really suits you, being tied down like this, cumming over and over. Are you sure you don't want another round?"

With a slight chuckle, Winter closes her eyes and gives her head a feeble, exhausted shake. "I do, but I can't." She can't even bear to open her eyes, she's spent and in a state, unable to cope with the aftershocks anymore.

"This is more like the woman I expected, shy and frail and overwhelmed. I guess you're just so easily broken."

"How did I do?" She asks in a raspy voice.

"For a first time? Great. Most people don't make it to the bed. And not many people look that good when they're cumming."

Winter lifts her chin a little higher. "I did that well?"

"You did."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Winter smut #Aespa smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #Winter x reader #Electric play #Electrophilia #Kim minjeong smut

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lucyandthepen · 1 year ago

Text

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

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scudslut · 9 months ago

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Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

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thrashkink-coven · 2 months ago

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Things for beginners to know before starting demonolatry or demonology practices

1. The classifications of demons were written by humans, not demons.

Different occult schools of thought will have different understandings of the Hierarchies of Hell, whether Hell even exists, and what attributes are associated with each demon. In some sects Lucifer reigns supreme Emperor of Hell, in others it is Sammael, Moloch, or Baal. It all depends on the perspective of the practitioner. All of these models are equally correct and incorrect. Documentation of de(a)mons were often written by right hand practitioners who saw them as evil, therefore their negative attitudes are emphasized. Other times devotees have documented the same entity as being very kind and affectionate. It is incredibly important to take into account who is speaking whenever you read about demons. No single book or author can deliver to you the most **objective** facts about these demons or the model of reality, if they claim to, they’re lying to you. You as the practitioner must discover and decide what reins true in your reality. Teachers and gurus may influence you but ultimately you must make the decision for yourself.

2. Assume all spirits are multi dimensional

Lucifer, the light bringer, is also the spirit of darkness. He is the sweet prince and the adversary, he is a devil and an angel. It is extremely rare that you will encounter a spirit that is only one thing. There is a little bit of truth to everyone’s interactions. To a Luciferian, Lucifer is a guide, a companion, and a positive presence. To a Christian he is an adversary, a tempter, liar and bringer of evil ; and there is an entire rainbow of other experiences that contribute to the understanding of “Lucifer”. Demons are not all good nor are they all bad, trying to paint them in only one light will only lead to disappointment and confusion. It is just as foolish to assume that a so called angel will always be pleasant and nice, as it is to assume a so called demon will be terrible and mean. Every energy interacts with every person uniquely.

3. Scary and intimidating doesn’t automatically mean “evil”

Nice and pleasing doesn’t automatically mean “good”

If you’re interacting with demons or spirits associated with death, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re dark, mysterious, or have a frightening appearance. If you’re dealing with demons or spirits of sex and lust, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re alluring, attractive, or beautiful. This doesn’t mean that the scary demon is going to kill you, and this doesn’t mean that the sexy demon is going to fuck you. There are very likely going to be times when your demons will scare you. This doesn’t mean that they’re going to hurt you or possess you (they shouldn’t be frightening you to the point of constant paranoia, but seeing some “disturbing” or strange imagery isn’t out of the norm when you’re contacting a de(a)mon).

If you enter a deep dark cave looking for a bear, don’t be surprised when you see sharp teeth. Demons of violence may summon gory imagery. Demons of death my feel cold and distant. A large part of demonolatry is understanding your fear and overcoming it.

4. Yeah, it’s intense.

Okay. This is hard for me to explain. Infernal spirits and angels alike are entities that force you to confront your innermost self and change. It’s not always spooky and scary and whimsical. Sometimes it’s losing your dead end job, having a serious breakup, losing toxic friends, or having a personal epiphany. When I say it’s intense, I don’t mean that I’m levitating and seeing gnarly gory shit and summoning demons while covered in blood all the time. I have dreams and experiences of course, but seeing a demon work is not about the theatrics. Are you ready to confront the things you rrrrreeaaaaalllly don’t want to think about? Your trauma, the lies you tell yourself to get through the day, and the toxic cycles you comfort yourself with?

Lord Lucifer has made me cry many MANY times. But it was never because he hurt or scared me. I’ve seen many demonolaters refer to Lucifer as a therapist and I couldn’t agree more. He not only changes your understanding of yourself, but others and the world. Through this understanding you can change yourself, and others, and the world.

5. You as the practitioner need to be able to withstand the symptoms of your demonic relationships

Being in a relationship with Lilith or Asmoday is not an excuse to develop a porn addiction. Being in a relationship with Lucifer does not give you the right to psychoanalyze all of your friends, being in a relationship with Eligos is not an excuse to destroy all of your relationships or be cruel towards others. Demons represent energies and concepts that are unfavourable to the masses. When working with Astaroth I will feel more lustful, just by being in her proximity. That is not justification to cheat on my partner or force myself onto him. As much as demons like Lucifer for example can inspire us to be wise and sharp, he can also influence us to be vein and narcissistic. We must always be aware of these effects and resist them, working with demons and shadows does not mean becoming the worst version of ourselves, quite the contrary. Interacting with these negative aspects is meant to show you how to overcome them.

6. Demons cannot and will not replace your relationships with humans

I am very pro godspousing and having friendly and affectionate relationships with demons and spirits. Having said that, as much as our spirits may love us and care for us, they will not be the ones to text you good morning. They will not make you soup when you’re sick, or buy you flowers after a hard day. Demons are guides and companions, but they are not people. Trying to use demons to solve your loneliness will only lead to heart ache. You very much can have a sincere relationship with a demon or other spirit, but be aware that that relationship will not mimic your relationships with humans, and it shouldn’t. Gods and demons are not humans, therefore your relationships with them will not feel human.

7. There’s always more to learn

Devotion to any spirit is an endeavour that can take years or even a lifetime. Your work is not done because you read 3 books and browsed the Occult Wiki for an hour and a half. Become very dedicated to learning about your demons of interest and the culture that surrounds them. Yes, this means boring, tedious research.

8. No, ______ is not mad at you. Please talk to them

You will at some point inevitably do something wrong, especially if you are freshly initiated. Demons understand that we are human, we make mistakes. Instead of becoming paranoid and avoiding your demon out of fear of consequences, put on your big boy pants and confront them directly. Understand what you did wrong and learn from your mistake. There may or may not be consequences, every demon is different. But making yourself sick thinking they’re going to smite you down doesn’t make anything better. I guarantee you that talking to them about it will serve you a million times better than running away.

9. You need to know your boundaries BEFORE you reach out

As important as it is to research your demons, it is equally important to research yourself. You need to have strict boundaries that you will not negotiate. These boundaries should be outlined in your contract if you have one. If blood magic is uncomfortable for you, don’t allow any demon or spirit to coerce you into giving it until you are ready. If you’re a minor you’re more than allowed to not do sex magic. This relationship belongs to you as much as it does your demon(s). If it doesn’t serve you, simply refuse it.

10. On that note, demons can and will reject you. You can and will reject them as well.

On many occasions I have approached spirits who did not want to work with me at the moment. Sometimes they end up showing up later in my life, other times they never do. Oftentimes this is because of an incongruency on an alchemical level, we just aren’t meant for each other. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re doing anything wrong. Sometimes you are, but your demon or deity will usually make that clear to you in some way. Don’t force it. If I’m already terribly preoccupied with life or other spiritual relationships, I’m within my right to reject another demon trying to enter my circle. That isn’t a rude thing to do. I’m within my right to deny a ritual I don’t have the energy or resources for. We can put it on the back burner for now.

Likewise, if a demon or spirit is repeatedly overstepping my boundaries or harming me in any way, I can (and should) leave that demon. If I’m not doing enough or causing insult, that demon can leave me. As binding as devotional contracts can be, we are not trapped with each other if we choose not to be.

11. Protection shouldn’t only be against spirits. Be very aware of your surroundings and the people around you

Learn the power of secrecy. As a Luciferian living in an extremely conservative area, I have to be extremely careful about when my pendants are visible. I have to be careful when entering certain places because I don’t want to be hate crimed or harassed. Yes, being out and proud of my demonic relationships is very important to me, but it is not worth risking real danger from bigots, or risking my employment. When I go to work, I have to leave my Lucifer ring at home, not because my work is discriminatory, but because I don’t know when I’m speaking to a christofascist grandma who would make a complaint to my boss because she saw my devotional ring. I don’t know which of my coworkers would make my life more difficult if they knew about my practice. If you are visible, people will approach you and make comments. Now, there are those of us who don’t give a fuck, and on most days I don’t. But for those of us who are vulnerable to that kind of discrimination, please be aware.

12. Self mutilation is not demonolatry

If you choose to offer blood it should be no more than a few drops. You should be using safe tools like a lancet, and disinfecting the area you extract from. This should be done in the least harmful manner possible. Devotional markings or tattoos should be done by a professional.

13. This stuff takes time. Relax

These relationships don’t develop in 24 hours. It takes a tremendous amount of repeated effort to gain the favour of a demon or spirit. If you’re not getting the results you want, take a break, reevaluate your methods, and try again later.

#demonolatry #demonology #luciferism #luciferian #luciferian witch #theistic luciferianism #lord lucifer #lucifer devotee #lucifer #goetia #goetic demons #demons #pagan #paganism #witchcraft #magick #occultism #grimoire #beginner witch

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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Hello! I loved your last hobie fic btw it was really good!!

Imagine that in hobies universe you died but when he travels to miles universe he sees you alive 😭 and then the reader introduces themselves to him the same way they did in his universe

Keep feeding us with these ATSV fics 😈😈

Have a great day!!!

Thank you for enjoying my Hobie Brown stuff anon cuz he’s been invading my mind recently. I hope to god this is okay for ya. 🦦

Hobie remembered first meeting you as though it were yesterday, you were within an alleyway vandalising the walls with your spray paint, he happened to be passing by when one of your masterpieces caught his eye; it was of him…well him as Spider-Man clocking a cartoonish Osborne -appropriately adorned with devil horns and a tail- in the head with his eyes crossed out in red spray paint as though he were dead.

It got a good chuckle out of him that was for sure and from that alone he knew he had to know you more on a personal level. ‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ He asked aloud, making you jolt, you were pretty sure you had chosen a spot where you weren’t going to get caught by the authorities or those that’d grass you up for expressing how you truly felt about Osborne and all those just like him. You shrugged, looking up at your finished product before looking back over at Hobie, ‘dunno yet,’ you told him truthfully, ‘my working titles are either anarchy incarnate or death to capitalism.’

Hobie hummed in approval, but he thought you could do better, ‘how about anarchy is the death of capitalism?’ He suggested and he couldn’t never forget the light in your eyes upon hearing his working title, that in the midst of your excitement you had grabbed him by the arm, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it, you’re a genius man!’ You cried before realising what you did and immediately removed your hand from his arm, ‘sorry about that.’ Hobie dismissed your apology by slinging an arm over your shoulder. ‘Nah, don’t give me that shit, you shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself for that’s what they want you to do.’

‘I don’t think I ever got your name.’ You said. ‘Hobie. Hobie brown and may I get to know the name of the amazing artist behind this.’ Hobie gestured to the spray painting. ‘Y/n l/n.’ You replied. ‘Well y/n, I think we’re going to get along quite well.’ And you did.

So when your untimely death happened, Hobie felt as though he were Achilles having lost his Patroclus. He cradled your body into his arms even long after you had said your final words, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’ and much longer after it had already gone cold. You had told him that you were heading out to go spray paint with some people you’ve met and the worst soon came when despite knowing that you didn’t have to, you still went out of your way to act as a distraction so that the rest may escape; which resulted in the way that it did.He knew he should’ve gone with you that day because then maybe you would still be alive and taking the piss out of him for worrying about you but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

Ever since then Hobie had made it his goal to keep fighting for not only his chase but yours as well in your memory. He made you a memorial in the exact same place where you first met, always paying it a visit whenever he felt as though he needed you with him, which has lead him to start talking to your spray pairings as though they were actually you. There was without a shadow of a doubt that you were quite possibly one of the greatest artists to have ever lived, alongside with being an avid inspiration to many to the youths who felt as though they had no way of expressing themselves when feeling slighted by the society they were born in. Hell you even inspired him! So much so that there were a multitude of songs he would perform that depicted a individual with stardust in their eyes, a rebellious fire in their heart and a insatiably need to insight the themes of anarchy within anything they touched.

After your death Hobie kept a good portion of your things; such as your spray cans that would never get used, your clothes that still clung onto the very last essence of you much like he did and even kept the picture you took together after helping you finish a project you had been wanting to pursue for a long while; and who would’ve thought that it would be him, not as Spider-Man, just good old Hobie Brown with the message, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’

So when he caught himself walking down a alleyway much like he did long ago but this time in a completely new place, he felt as though he was being hit with a wave of de ja vu when his ears picked up on the familiar hissing sound of a spray can. It was like he was back there again and if his memory serves him right, he knew what was to come next the moment he, Gwen and Miles made it into a clearing where they were greeted with the sight of someone’s back as they were deeply engrossed with their own handy work. ‘You’re going to love them Hobie, they’re like super cool and awesome.’ Gwen told him but her words went in one ear and out the next as he stared up at the spray painting of Miles as Spider-Man mid swing; it was beautiful without a doubt but they style in which it was drawn was all too familiar.

‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ Hobie had said without realising it until you jolted before turning to look directly at him, regaining your composure, ‘dunno yet.’ You shrugged and your voice sounded like an echo to the past for Hobie who so desperately wanted to pinch himself in that moment. ‘my working titles are either a bright new era or rising above all expectations.’ Hobie didn’t say anything for he knew he was going to say something that would only scare you away, just because you were another version of his y/n didn’t mean you shared the same memories; to you, he was just another spider-man from another reality, he wasn’t your Hobie despite how he wish he was but he knew he couldn’t put that on you.

He also couldn’t blame you for being alive while his version of you was dead. It wouldn’t be fair on you for being blamed for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with and it wouldn’t be fair on him either, as despite how many times he made himself believe that he has accepted your death, his heart would remind him that he truly hadn’t. You were such a pivotal part of his life that he couldn’t seem to let go of. ‘Hmm, both titles sound cool but I think we can do better.’ Miles pipped up, breaking Hobie out of his headspace that was running rampant with all the best memories you shared together. ‘How about…the bright new era of rising above all expectations?’ Hobie interjected.

You made a face at the suggestion before a wide smile spread across your face as you lost yourself in your excitement and grabbed ahold of his arm like you did when your first met, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it! You’re a genius dude, thank you.’ But before you could remove your hand from his arm, Hobie grasped your hand and held it firmly. ‘I don’t believe I told you my name, it’s Hobie by the way.’ Your excused his actions as an exchange of formal greeting and grasped onto his hand with the same about of force. ‘Nice to meet you Hobie, I’m y/n.’

‘I know’ is what Hobie desperately wanted to say but kept it all contained under a strained smile.

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown imagines #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader

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onlyswan · 11 months ago

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summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

2K notes · View notes

yaniluvs · 10 days ago

Text

⋆.˚ ⚾️ ⌇ 승민 : AS WE ARE ── a usual noon after uni, at your usual spot at one of the unoccupied fields of the small town. however, one day, it turned out you weren't the only person finding calm in the field anymore.

index | next ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𓍯 baseballcapt!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）7.6k ── ༯ TWOSHOT (?) uni au, slow paced & slow burn, curiosity, fluff, strangers to friends to ???, small town, angst, language, skz ensemble, very long, y/n is a foreigner/mixed ethnicity. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ baseball seungmin. i repeat, BASEBALL SEUNGMIN >3< !! had this sitting in my drafts for way too long. so there may be more part(s) to this, because i certainly cannot put 15k+ words at once.. (╥﹏╥) . skzhop is out, and i'm in love with this song ever since the tour began, and the teaser. so here's a fic because i was desperate. also lowkey have mixed feelings about this fic, maybe it's too slow and uninteresting? (｡>﹏<) don't know, but well still hope you enjoy reading ! comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy reading <3

the town was as calm as ever, the streets bathed in the soft, golden glow of a sunset that seemed to stretch on forever. the fading light brushed the buildings with a warm, almost nostalgic hue, casting long shadows that whispered of days gone by. it was one of those places where time didn’t hurry. you could almost feel the hours stretching out like elastic, letting the moments linger and settle into your bones.

people moved through the streets slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, some with their heads down, lost in their thoughts, others with eyes up, catching the last rays of the day.

the air was still, but it carried the faint scent of fresh grass and distant wood smoke. a few birds called out from the trees lining the streets, the kind of birds that didn’t seem to mind the quiet, the kind that you could almost hear thinking. the small shops, with their cozy little displays, looked like they could have been frozen in time—hand-painted signs swaying gently in the breeze, windows fogging up as the night began to cool. you could hear the distant chatter of a couple walking home, their voices blending into the soft rustling of the leaves.

even the cars, few as they were, rolled down the narrow streets at a leisurely pace, their tires humming softly on the asphalt. there was no rush, no hurry here. it was one of those rare places where people stopped to chat at the corner, where you could hear the laughter of children spilling from an open window, where everyone seemed to know everyone else, even if they didn't.

everything moved in its own rhythm here, the world spinning a little slower, like the way a good song seems to linger long after it’s finished. it wasn’t that there was nothing to do; it was more like there was no need to rush toward anything. life just seemed to breathe at its own pace, savoring the small moments, the everyday details that most people would overlook. and in this quiet, peaceful town, those little moments mattered the most.

she liked it that way. she appreciated the quiet, the simplicity of it all. it gave her space to think, to breathe, and to write.

that evening, the notebook in her bag felt heavier than usual. she was late to her usual spot—an old wooden bench with a matching table under a canopy of trees at the edge of the town’s recreational grounds. it wasn’t much, just a small patch of greenery with an equally small baseball field. the bench faced away from the field, toward the trees and the town beyond, but she had always been drawn to the way it felt tucked away, like her own secret place.

by the time she arrived, the sky had begun its shift to dusky purples and soft blues. she slowed her steps when you saw someone in the field. it was rare for anyone to be here at this hour.

a supposed guy stood near the netted boundary of the baseball field, his posture relaxed but focused as the fading light of the day cast long shadows across the grass. his black hair, slightly messy and fluffy, curled around his forehead in soft waves, contrasting with the sleek black cap pulled low over his eyes, hiding much of his expression. though not particularly tall or imposing, there was something effortlessly attractive about him—something that drew the eye without trying.

his left hand was occupied with a well-worn black glove, snug against his fingers, the leather creaking softly as he shifted his grip. he tossed the baseball into the air, its white surface catching the last of the sunlight before it descended, spinning in his palm with a fluid grace. with a practiced snap, he caught it again, the sound of the leather cracking as it hit the glove.

his movements were calm but precise, like someone lost in the rhythm of repetition, tossing the ball once more into the air. this time, with a slight tilt of his head, he threw it toward an imaginary target. it sailed through the air, its flight perfect, before hitting the ground with a faint, echoing thud. yet, even as he went through the motions, his gaze drifted, as though his mind was miles away, distracted by thoughts that had little to do with the game.

she hesitated. she hadn’t expected company.

she moved toward the bench anyway, settling into the usual spot. the boy hadn’t noticed her yet—or if he had, he just didn’t show it. his focus was absolute, each throw measured and deliberate. she pulled out her notebook but found herself glancing at him more instead of writing.

he moved like someone used to just.. being. there was something almost distant in his movements, a depth she couldn’t quite place. she tried not to stare, but the way he kept practicing, as though he was trying to lose himself in the rhythm, held her attention.

finally, she gave in to the curiosity, like always. she set the notebook aside, picked up the novel she'd been reading, and flipped it open. but even as she read, her gaze kept drifting back to him.

the boy threw another pitch. the ball ricocheted off the fence with a dull thud.

"do you always practice alone?"

her hesitant yet curious voice cut through the quiet like a feather brushing the air.

the boy froze mid-motion, his arm still raised from the throw. slowly, he turned toward her. his cap shadowed most of his face, but she could see his brows furrowed in confusion. he didn’t seem angry, just surprised—like he wasn’t used to being spoken to, let alone noticed.

"usually," he replied after a moment. his voice was quiet, slightly rough around the edges but not unkind.

she smiled faintly. "it must be peaceful," she said, voice as soft as the breeze that rustled through the trees. "just you and the field."

the boy tilted his head slightly, studying her. for a long moment, he didn’t respond.

"sometimes," he said finally, his tone nonchalant. he adjusted the brim of his cap and turned back to the field, tossing the baseball into his glove.

she watched him in silence, her curiosity growing. there was something about him—something quiet but heavy, like he was carrying more than he wanted to share.

"you’re.. good, at it," she spoke again after a while.

he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her figure. "at what?"

"pitching," she replied simply.

this time, he didn’t look away so quickly. his eyes lingered on her, studying her with a hint of skepticism, as if trying to figure out if she meant it.

"it’s just practice," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"practice makes perfect," she said lightly.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite manage it. instead, he shrugged and turned back to his routine.

she picked up her book again but kept sneaking glances at him. she didn’t know his name, didn’t know why he was here or what kept him coming back to this empty field, but something told her, that she would see him again.

and that thought—unexpected and soft—made her chest feel a little lighter.

the evening deepened, the world around them growing quieter, the coolness of the night settling over the ground. y/n had returned to her novel, but her eyes followed the boy more often than her fingers turned the pages. she wasn’t sure why she stayed so focused on him, why his presence intrigued her so much. maybe it was the rhythm of his movements or the way he seemed so lost in his own world.

the boy threw the ball again, a sharp and clean arc that hit the fence with a satisfying thud. he stood still for a moment, watching the ball bounce weakly and roll to a stop on the grass. then he went to retrieve it, his footsteps slow and heavy.

when he straightened and turned back toward the center of the field, yani spoke again.

"why here?"

he stopped mid-step, his body slightly stiff as he glanced at her. "what do you mean?"

she closed her book, setting it carefully on the table. her voice remained soft, as though afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. "i mean, why do you practice here? the town doesn’t even have a real baseball team, right?"

the boy’s brows furrowed, and his grip on the ball tightened. "it’s quiet," he said after a pause.

“and well.. this is probably the only maintained baseball field here.”

“a-ah, right. guess i didn’t think of that.” she awkwardly smiled.

she tilted her head slightly, curious about the underlying weight in his tone. "still, quiet can be nice," she agreed. "but do you want it to be quiet?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked down at the ball in his hand, turning it over slowly. then, almost too softly for her to hear, he murmured, "it’s better that way."

the words hung between them, laced with something she couldn’t quite name—resignation, maybe, or exhaustion. she studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the lines of his face, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the world.

"do you like it?" she asked, her voice gentle.

he looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "what?"

"baseball," she clarified. "do you like playing it?"

his lips parted as if to answer immediately, but he stopped himself. he glanced back at the field, his gaze distant. "i used to," he said finally.

she frowned slightly. "used to?"

he shrugged, the motion heavy. "i don’t know. i guess i still do." he hesitated, as though debating whether to say more. "it’s… complicated."

she didn’t push. instead, she rested her chin on her hand, watching him with quiet curiosity. "it must mean something to you if you’re here every day," she said after a moment.

his head snapped toward her, his expression sharp for the first time. "how do you know i’m here every day?"

y/n blinked, startled by the sudden edge in his tone. "i don’t," she admitted quickly. "i’ve never been here this late before. i just assumed…"

the boy stared at her for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge her sincerity. then, with a soft exhale, he looked away. "sorry," he muttered.

"it’s okay," she said, her tone even softer than before.

for a while, neither of them spoke. the boy resumed his practice, and the girl opened her book again, though her mind wandered.

when he finally broke the silence, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. "why are you here?"

"here?"

"yeah," he said, gesturing vaguely toward her bench. "at this time. you said you don’t usually come this late."

she smiled faintly. "i lost track of time," she admitted. "i was at uni, writing, and didn’t realize how late it was until i looked outside."

"you write?" he asked, his tone more curious now.

she nodded. "mostly in my notebook. nothing fancy. just thoughts, sometimes stories."

he tilted his head slightly, as if considering her answer. "why here, though?"

"it’s peaceful,"

his gaze flickered to her for a moment before he turned back to the field. "yeah," he said quietly. "it is."

the minutes stretched on, the silence between them no longer uncomfortable. she found herself stealing glances at him again, wondering about the story behind his tired eyes and quiet demeanor.

eventually, the boy pulled off his glove and tucked it under his arm. he picked up the baseball and walked toward the bench, stopping a few feet away.

"i’m seungmin," he said, his voice low but steady.

she looked up at him, surprised but pleased by the introduction. "y/n," she replied, her tone warm. "well, actually, y/f/n. but everyone just calls me y/n."

seungmin’s brows lifted slightly. "y/f/n?" he repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue awkwardly but not unkindly.

she nodded, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "it’s… a little hard to pronounce."

he didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with a quiet intensity. then, unexpectedly, he said, "it’s nice."

she blinked, her blush deepening. "thank you."

seungmin nodded once, then glanced at the sky. "i should go," he said, his tone reluctant.

"okay," she said, her voice soft.

he hesitated for a moment before turning to leave, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

she watched him go, her chest feeling oddly warm. she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they spoke. and for the first time in a while, she found herself looking forward to tomorrow.

the night deepened as she finally packed up her things. the notebook went into her bag first, followed by her novel. she cast a quick glance at the baseball field. it was empty now; seungmin had left without another word after their brief exchange.

she slung her bag over her shoulder and began walking down the narrow path that led out of the recreational grounds. the cool air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth. she didn’t feel like going home just yet, even though it was late. there was something about the stillness of the town at night that made her want to wander.

the streets were quiet yet full of a few people here and there, as they always were after dark. a handful of lights flickered in the windows of small shops, and the occasional sound of a distant dog barking broke the silence. the old cobblestone streets felt comforting beneath her feet, and the familiar, worn-down charm of the town enveloped her like a warm embrace.

she passed by the tiny bookstore she frequented, its lights dimmed for the evening. she slowed, peering through the glass at the rows of books stacked neatly on wooden shelves. it was one of her favorite places, but tonight, she didn’t feel like going in.

instead, she walked further into the heart of the town, where the smell of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air from a street vendor’s cart that had long since closed. her thoughts drifted back to seungmin—the quiet boy with the tired eyes.

he had been so distant, so closed off, and yet… there was something about him that made her curious. she found herself wondering if he’d return to the field tomorrow, or if tonight had been some sort of exception.

eventually, her wandering brought her back to the residential streets. the houses here were modest but cozy, with little gardens that overflowed with wildflowers in the summer. she stopped in front of one of the smaller homes—a single-story house with a tiled roof and a little swing in the front yard.

the warm glow of light spilled out from the windows, and she could see the silhouettes of her grandparents moving inside. y/n smiled to herself as she stepped through the front gate.

“y/n, you’re late!” her grandmother’s voice called out the moment she opened the door.

“i know, sorry, gramma,” she said with a sheepish grin, slipping off her shoes. “i lost track of time.”

her grandmother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. she was a petite woman with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “you shouldn’t be wandering around alone at night,” she scolded gently, though her tone was more worried than angry.

“let the girl breathe,” her grandfather said from the living room. he was seated in his favorite chair, a book resting open on his lap. “she’s young. young people like to roam.”

“i know that, but—” her grandmother shot him a look before turning back to their granddaughter. “it’s not safe.”

“it’s our town, grandma,” she said softly, setting her bag down by the door. “nothing ever happens here.”

“that doesn’t mean you should be careless,” her grandmother replied, though the worry in her voice had softened.

her grandfather chuckled, closing his book. “your grandma forgets that she used to sneak out of her parents’ house to meet me when we were young. remember that?”

her grandmother’s face flushed a faint pink, and she swatted at him with the dish towel. “that’s different!”

she laughed, the sound light and melodic. she loved moments like this, when her grandparents bantered like a young couple. they’d been married for over fifty years, and yet they still looked at each other with the same kind of warmth and affection that she imagined only existed in movies.

“are you hungry, dear?” her grandmother asked, turning her attention back to her. “i saved some stew for you.”

“starving,” she admitted, her stomach growling faintly as if to emphasize her point.

her grandmother smiled, motioning for her to sit at the kitchen table. “i’ll heat it up for you.”

as she sat down, her grandfather joined her, pulling out the chair across from her. “so,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “what were you doing out so late? writing again?”

she nodded, pulling her notebook out of her bag and setting it on the table. “and reading. i went to the grounds like always, but i stayed a little longer tonight.”

her grandmother set a steaming bowl of soup in front of her and raised a brow. “why longer?”

“there was.. someone else there,” she said casually, picking up her spoon.

her grandfather’s brow lifted. “someone else? that doesn’t happen often.”

“exactly what i thought,,” she agreed, stirring her soup. “he was practicing baseball. i think his name was.. seungmin..?”

her grandmother hummed thoughtfully as she sat down beside them. “is he a friend of yours?”

“not really. i just talked to him a bit.”

her grandfather leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. “well, if he’s practicing baseball alone, he must be dedicated. or stubborn.”

“yeah,” she chuckled softly, “he was good at pitching, though, even if it was all alone. though.. there was something about him– he seemed a bit distant,”

“maybe he was lonely?”

“maybe..? but i don't think he wanted.. company. at least he didn't seem like it.”

she glanced at her grandparents, at the way her grandfather’s hand rested over her grandmother’s on the table, their fingers lightly intertwined.

“do you think.. distant people want to be left alone?” she asked quietly.

her grandmother tilted her head, studying her with a thoughtful expression. “sometimes,” she said. “but not always. sometimes, they just don’t know how to ask for company.”

her grandfather nodded. “or they’re afraid of being hurt.”

her chest tightened slightly at their words. she thought of seungmin again, of his quiet replies and the way he’d said, it’s better that way.

“do you think he’ll come back?” she asked softly, more to herself than to her grandparents.

her grandmother smiled. “if he does, maybe you’ll be the company he doesn’t know he needs.”

she looked down at her soup, her mind drifting back to the empty baseball field. she didn’t know why she cared so much about a boy she’d just met, but a part of her hoped her grandmother was right.

and maybe, she’d have another chance to talk to him tomorrow.

the school courtyard was buzzing with the usual morning chatter—students gathered in clusters, discussing assignments, weekend plans, and the latest town gossip. y/n preferred to stay out of the bustle, so she slipped through the gates quietly, her guitar case slung over her shoulder.

her steps were light and deliberate as she made her way to the benches near the main building. it was her usual spot, tucked under the shade of a large tree where the morning light filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground.

she set her guitar case down carefully, adjusted her bag, and took out a small notebook. it was her sanctuary before the day’s classes began—a moment to gather her thoughts and jot down melodies or ideas.

“still writing your ideas away, y/nnie?”

the deep voice startled her, though it carried a warmth she recognized instantly. she looked up to see felix standing nearby, his hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer. his light blond hair fell slightly into his eyes, and a small smile played on his lips.

“maybe.. it's called sudden inspiration,” y/n replied softly, chuckling back.

felix chuckled, his voice low and soothing. “blah blah, same thing?” he dropped his bag onto the bench and sat beside her, leaning back with an air of easy calm. “so, what’s the plan for today? more serenading the trees with your guitar?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “not today. i’ve got a quiz later, and i promised myself i’d focus on studying.”

felix raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. “you? worrying about a quiz? you’re probably already over-prepared.”

“maybe,” she admitted, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement. “but it’s better than being under-prepared.”

“fair point,” he conceded, glancing at her notebook. “what’s that? a new song?”

y/n hesitated for a moment before nodding. “just some scribbling. i don’t know if it’ll turn into anything yet.”

felix tilted his head, genuinely curious. “can i hear it sometime?”

“maybe,” she said, her tone playful. “if i ever finish it.”

felix smiled, leaning back against the bench. the two of them fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with unnecessary words. y/n appreciated that about felix—he didn’t push her to talk more than she wanted to, and his calm demeanor matched her own.

the warning bell rang, breaking the stillness.

“guess it’s time to face the day,” felix said, standing and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

y/n nodded, gathering her things. “see you at lunch?”

“of course,” he replied, giving her a small wave as he headed toward his classroom.

y/n watched him go for a moment before making her way to her own class. the halls were already filling with students, but she kept her head down, focusing on the soft melody still playing in her mind.

as she entered the classroom and took her seat by the window, she felt a sense of calm settle over her. the morning had been kind to her so far, and she was determined to carry that peace with her through the rest of the day.

after school, y/n packed her things and left the classroom with a light heart. the day had gone smoothly—no unexpected quizzes, no overwhelming assignments. she wasn’t one to feel bogged down by studies anyway; she took things in stride, balancing her love for learning with the simple joys of life.

her classmates were still lingering in the halls, some chatting in groups, others heading to cram school or their part-time jobs. y/n, however, had a different destination in mind. she slung her bag over her shoulder, her guitar case in hand, and stepped into the soft afternoon sun.

the streets were quiet as usual, the warm light casting long shadows on the cobblestones. y/n hummed softly to herself as she walked, her mind already drifting to the peace she always found at the field. she loved how the small town seemed to pause during this time of day, giving her a moment to feel completely at ease.

when she reached the recreational grounds, her gaze immediately swept toward the baseball field. it was empty, just as she had expected. the chain-link fence glinted in the sunlight, and the grass inside looked lush and green, untouched since yesterday.

she let out a soft sigh of relief.

placing her guitar case down at her usual bench by the trees, y/n settled in and opened her notebook. she had planned to study a little—reviewing notes for an upcoming essay—but the quiet of the field had a way of pulling her toward more creative pursuits.

instead of her school notes, she found herself flipping to a blank page, her pen poised over the paper as she searched for the melody she had been humming earlier. she tapped the pen lightly against her chin, letting the rhythm of the breeze and the rustling of the leaves guide her thoughts.

the minutes ticked by, and she found herself smiling faintly, not from anything in particular but from the simple pleasure of the moment. here, with the sunlight filtering through the trees and the town’s quiet hum in the background, everything felt just right.

after scribbling down a few lines of lyrics, she glanced toward the field again. she wondered, briefly, if the boy from yesterday would return. seungmin, she remembered. he had been so quiet, so distant, but there had been something about him that lingered in her mind.

shaking her head, she focused back on her notebook. it didn’t matter if he showed up or not. this was her time, her place, and she was perfectly content to spend it alone.

for now, the field was hers, and she intended to make the most of it.

as she continued her thing, the faint sound of footsteps on the gravel path caught her attention. curious, she glanced toward the baseball field, and her gaze landed on a figure she recognized immediately.

seungmin.

he wasn’t wearing his cap today, and his hair caught the sunlight as he walked toward the field, his usual baseball glove in one hand and a ball in the other. he moved with a quiet confidence, his posture relaxed but purposeful.

y/n blinked, momentarily surprised. he wasn’t usually here at this hour. she debated for a moment whether to say anything or let him pass unnoticed. but then, she thought about how reserved he had been the day before and decided to break the silence.

“came early today?”

her soft voice carried across the space, and seungmin’s steps slowed. he turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers with a flicker of recognition.

for a moment, he seemed caught off guard, but then he nodded, his expression neutral. “yeah.”

y/n tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her. “why?”

seungmin shrugged, looking away as he tossed the baseball lightly into the air and caught it. “no reason.”

she studied him for a moment, noting the way he avoided meeting her gaze. there was something almost… guarded about him. “it’s nice to have company,” she said lightly, hoping to make him feel less self-conscious.

seungmin glanced at her briefly before walking to the field. “don’t mind me. just doing my thing.”

y/n chuckled softly and turned back to her notebook, her pen tapping gently against the page. she couldn’t help but keep an eye on him, though. he moved with precision, practicing throws toward an imaginary batter. his form was sharp, his focus unwavering, and it was clear he wasn’t just idly passing the time.

after a while, she spoke again, her voice cutting gently through the quiet. “are you preparing for something? a tournament?”

the question made him freeze mid-throw. his posture stiffened slightly, and he stood still for a moment before lowering the ball.

“no,” he said, his tone flat. “it’s just a hobby. a way to pass the time.”

y/n frowned slightly, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. the energy around him seemed to dull, his earlier ease replaced by something heavier. she wanted to ask more but thought better of it.

instead, she offered a soft smile. “you’re really good for it to be just a hobby.”

he turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. “thanks,” he said simply, his voice quieter than before. then, as if to change the subject, he added, “what about you? always writing in that notebook?”

y/n’s smile widened slightly at the question. “most of the time,” she admitted. “it helps me clear my head.”

“what do you write?” he asked, his tone casual but with a trace of curiosity.

“songs,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “sometimes poems. whatever comes to mind.”

seungmin nodded, tossing the ball gently into the air again. “that’s… cool.”

they fell into a comfortable silence after that, with y/n returning to her notebook and seungmin continuing his throws. despite his earlier reticence, he didn’t seem as distant now.

around 3:30, y/n noticed a few figures approaching the field. she tilted her head, watching as a group of boys made their way toward seungmin.

“hey, cap!” one of them called, grinning as he waved.

seungmin turned, his demeanor shifting slightly. he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment and tossed the ball toward the boy, who caught it with ease.

y/n blinked, caught off guard. cap?

the group of boys—about six or seven of them—seemed at ease with seungmin, chatting and laughing as they warmed up on the field. y/n watched quietly, realizing this was a side of him she hadn’t seen before.

“you have a team?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

seungmin glanced at her, his expression unreadable again. “yeah. we play here in the evenings.”

“oh,” y/n said, her tone soft. “i didn’t know.”

“you’re gone by then,” he pointed out, his voice matter-of-fact.

she nodded, her gaze drifting back to the group as they continued their playful banter. they seemed close, their energy lively but grounded.

“well,” she said after a moment, closing her notebook and standing. “i guess i’ll leave you to it.”

seungmin’s brows furrowed slightly, though he said nothing.

y/n slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up her guitar case. before leaving, she offered him a gentle smile. “see you around, seungmin.”

he nodded, his gaze following her briefly before returning to his team.

as she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel a new curiosity about the quiet, guarded boy who seemed to carry more than he let on.

y/n adjusted her guitar case, deciding she wasn’t quite ready to go home. she checked her phone, seeing a message from felix confirming their usual plan to meet at the café. a smile crept onto her lips as she quickened her pace, the familiar path to the cozy little spot etched into her mind.

the café sat tucked into a quiet corner of town, its faded brick façade and wide glass windows giving it a rustic charm. y/n stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint aroma of baked goods welcoming her.

felix was already there, seated near the window with a cup of tea in front of him. he glanced up as the bell above the door chimed, and his calm expression softened into a small smile.

“right on time,” he said, his deep voice carrying a note of teasing.

“i’m always on time,” y/n replied, her tone light as she slid into the chair across from him. she set her guitar case beside the table and leaned back, letting the café’s warm atmosphere envelop her.

felix raised an eyebrow. “is that what you tell yourself when you’re five minutes late?”

“okay, once. that happened once.”

felix chuckled and sipped his tea. “how was the field today? same as always?”

she hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “pretty much. though… there’s this guy who’s always there. seungmin. i didn’t expect to see him earlier than usual.”

felix tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “seungmin? the baseball guy?”

“yeah,” y/n said, fiddling with the edge of her notebook. “he’s quiet. keeps to himself. but i found out he has a team. they usually play in the evenings.”

“interesting,” felix murmured. “maybe he’s a future pro in disguise.”

y/n shrugged, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “maybe.”

after finishing their drinks, the two friends decided to roam the town. the streets were alive with their usual charm—small shops lining the cobblestone paths, vendors selling trinkets, and the faint hum of conversations blending with the distant rustle of trees.

eventually, they arrived at their usual street food spot, a tiny stall nestled in a busy corner where the smell of grilled skewers and noodles filled the air.

felix handed over the cash for their order before y/n could protest. “my treat,” he said firmly.

“you always say that,” y/n replied, accepting the steaming skewer of fish cakes he handed her.

“because it’s true,” he said, taking a bite of his own food.

they found a small table nearby and ate while chatting about their day. y/n shared stories about her classes, and felix listened with quiet interest, occasionally offering his own dry, witty remarks that made her laugh.

as they finished their food, y/n’s gaze wandered across the street, where a group of boys had gathered around another street food stall. her breath caught for a moment when she recognized seungmin among them.

so it is a small world.

he stood slightly off to the side, holding a skewer in one hand while his friends chatted and laughed around him. though he wasn’t as animated as the others, there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his face—a subtle ease in his demeanor that softened his usual guardedness.

y/n couldn’t help but smile internally. there was something oddly endearing about seeing him like this, surrounded by his friends, blending into the lively rhythm of the town.

“earth to y/n?” felix’s voice broke through her thoughts.

she blinked, turning back to him. “sorry, what?”

felix followed her gaze briefly and raised an eyebrow. “someone you know?”

“kind of,” she said, her voice soft. “that’s seungmin. from the field.”

“ah,” felix said, a note of amusement in his tone. “seems like he’s not as much of a loner as you thought.”

y/n smiled faintly, not replying. she watched as seungmin’s friends laughed at something one of them said, their voices carrying over the street. though he didn’t laugh with them, seungmin’s expression wasn’t as distant as usual—he looked… at ease.

for a moment, y/n considered walking over to say hello, but she quickly dismissed the thought. it didn’t feel like the right time.

from her point, she could see him more clearly now than she had at the field. he was at the edge of the group, his hands in his pockets and his expression composed but not cold. while his friends laughed and gestured animatedly, seungmin offered occasional comments, his voice quieter but not entirely detached.

her lips curved into a faint smile. there was something intriguing about the way he carried himself—not quite aloof but not fully immersed in the chaos of his friends either. he seemed comfortable yet separate, as though he existed in a world slightly apart from everyone else.

she watched as the group stopped near a food cart selling roasted sweet potatoes. one of the boys elbowed seungmin, clearly joking about something, and though seungmin didn’t laugh, his lips twitched upward in the briefest of smiles.

y/n’s heart warmed at the sight. it was such a small thing, but it made him seem less distant than he usually appeared.

realizing she’d been staring, y/n quickly looked back at felix, as they walked out of the stall.

the morning sunlight spilled gently into the cozy kitchen, illuminating the worn wooden table where the family gathered. y/n sat cross-legged on one of the chairs, sipping on her cup of hot tea. her hair was pulled back into a lazy braid, still slightly messy from sleep. the kitchen smelled of freshly cooked pancakes, courtesy of her grandma, who was bustling near the stove with her usual cheerful hum.

her grandpa, seated across from y/n with his morning paper, folded it down just enough to peer at her. “so, young lady,” he started, his tone casual but with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “what are your big plans for today?”

y/n shrugged, tearing a small piece of her pancake. “nothing much. probably read, maybe play guitar for a bit. why?”

“well,” he said, setting the paper aside with exaggerated care. “your old man here was thinking… how about we wash the car together? it’s looking mighty sorry out there.”

y/n smirked. “you mean you want me to wash the car while you supervise?”

he gasped, feigning shock. “what kind of slander is this? supervise? me? no, no. it’s teamwork, kiddo. bonding time.”

her grandma chimed in with a snort, flipping another pancake. “bonding time, huh? more like you’ll do half the job and then mysteriously need a break.”

“hey now!” he defended, raising his hands. “who said i wouldn’t pull my weight? besides, i’m offering quality fatherly wisdom while we work. isn’t that worth something?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “alright, alright, gramps. i’ll help. i was planning to wash my bike anyway.”

“atta girl,” her grandpa said, leaning back triumphantly. “we’ll get started after breakfast, then.”

“finally!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “thought you’d decided to ditch me for a second there.”

“relax, gramps,” y/n said, grinning as she tucked one earphone into her left ear. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

they rolled up their sleeves and got to work. y/n filled a bucket with soapy water while gramps grabbed the hose. mellow acoustic music played softly in her ear, a comforting backdrop to the task at hand.

“so,” gramps started, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of dirt, “what’s the deal with that baseball kid you keep mentioning? seungmin, right?”

y/n paused mid-scrub, narrowing her eyes at him. “why do you keep bringing him up?”

“just curious,” he said innocently, though the teasing grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “seems like he’s a topic of interest lately.”

“he’s just someone i see at the field sometimes,” y/n replied, focusing a little too intently on the car. “not that interesting.”

“uh-huh,” grandpa said, not convinced. “you should bring him over sometime. i’ll teach him how to really swing a bat.”

y/n laughed. “you don’t even play baseball, gramps!”

“oh, you know too less young lady,” he mumbled with a dismissive wave. “anyway, finish up the roof while i grab something from the shed. your grandma thinks i forgot the wax.”

y/n shook her head as he walked off, muttering under his breath about how many things grandma likes to remind him of.

with grandpa gone, y/n slipped the other earphone in and turned the volume up. the soothing strums of guitar and mellow vocals filled her ears as she focused on scrubbing every inch of the car. she moved methodically, dipping the sponge into the bucket and humming softly to herself. the sunlight caught on the small beads of water dripping from the car, casting tiny rainbows onto the pavement.

she was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t notice the figure walking down the street.

seungmin.

hold on, seungmin?

he’d been heading home after a quick errand, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, when his gaze fell on her. at first, he thought it was someone else. but as he slowed his pace, he realized it was her.

y/n, standing there in the sunlight, completely immersed in what she was doing. her loose tee shifted slightly with her movements, and her messy bun framed her face in an effortlessly pretty way. the music in her ears left her unaware of his presence, and for a moment, seungmin just stood there, watching.

she looked different from the girl he usually saw at the field—less polished, more relaxed. but it suited her.

he debated for a second, then called out, “came to scrub cars now, huh?”

y/n startled, pulling out one earphone and spinning around. when she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise, her voice squeaking. “seungmin?”

“you missed a spot,” he said, pointing to the car with a faint smirk.

y/n looked at him, then down at the car, and deadpanned. “did you come all the way here just to tell me that?”

“was passing by,” he said with a shrug, though the truth felt far more complicated.

“well, since you’re here,” she said, holding out the sponge with a grin, “care to help?”

seungmin hesitated, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “not a chance.”

“figures,” y/n said, rolling her eyes playfully. “you baseball types are all the same. no multitasking skills.”

he raised an eyebrow. “pretty sure scrubbing cars isn’t a skill.”

“then you should try it,” she challenged.

before he could respond, gramps peeked out from the doorway, watching the scene with a grin. “who’s that?” he called, pretending to be oblivious.

“just a passerby, gramps!” y/n yelled back, glancing at seungmin with an amused smile.

gramps disappeared back inside, leaving them to their banter.

“you’re weird,” seungmin said finally, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“thanks,” y/n replied with an awkward laugh. “it’s part of my charm.”

"they won't let me live it down," she whispered exaggeratedly yet subtly, glancing back at the door her grandpa had just walked through, to get inside.

"i see," his gaze followed hers. "well, i'll let you carry on then,"

he shook his head, his smirk softening into something almost fond before he turned to leave. “see you around, car girl.”

y/n watched him walk away, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the car.

y/n stood there for a moment, still holding the sponge in her hand as seungmin disappeared down the street. a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself, her cheeks faintly warm. she shook her head to snap out of it and went back to scrubbing the car, the music in her earphones still playing softly.

just as she was finishing the final rinse, she heard the familiar shuffle of her grandpa’s shoes coming back into the garage. he had the tin of car wax in one hand and a slightly smug expression on his face.

“well, well, well,” he started, drawing out the words as he leaned against the car. “was that the young baseball kid you’ve been talking about?”

y/n groaned immediately, her cheeks heating up again. “gramps, stop. he was just passing by!”

“sure he was,” gramps said, his voice dripping with teasing skepticism. he crossed his arms, eyeing her closely. “funny coincidence, don’t you think? this small town, this exact street, just happening to walk by while you’re here looking like… well, like you do right now.”

“grandpa!” she exclaimed, spinning around to splash a little soapy water in his direction.

“alright, alright!” he said, dodging the splash but grinning from ear to ear. “but you can’t blame me for being curious. he seemed like a decent kid, though he could use a bit more enthusiasm in his voice. not much of a talker, is he?”

“not really,” y/n admitted, sighing as she wrung out the sponge. “but he’s… nice. i think.”

before grandpa could press further, gramma appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron as she took in the scene. “who’s this you’re talking about?” she asked, her sharp eyes darting between the two of them.

“oh the boy,” gramps said casually, but his grin betrayed him. “the baseball kid y/n’s been bumping into, at the field.”

gramma’s eyebrows shot up. “oh? he’s come to visit now, has he?”

“no!” y/n exclaimed, exasperated. “he was just walking by, and gramps decided to make a whole scene out of it.”

gramma chuckled as she came closer, inspecting y/n’s work on the car. “sounds to me like gramps is just jealous. wasn’t he a baseball boy himself back in the day?”

y/n blinked, turning to look at her grandpa. “wait, what? you were?”

gramps cleared his throat, suddenly looking a bit bashful. “well, i wouldn’t say baseball boy, exactly…”

“don’t let him fool you,” gramma interjected, her voice full of pride. “he was one of the best players in town back in his day. made it all the way to the intertown tournaments. brought home trophies too!”

“trophies?” y/n asked, her jaw dropping. “grandpa, why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “didn’t seem all that important. it was a long time ago, kiddo.”

“not important?” gramma scoffed, smacking his arm lightly. “you still have those trophies sitting in the attic. he was the talk of the town back then.”

y/n stared at her grandpa in amazement. “wow, that’s so cool! why’d you stop?”

gramps hesitated, his usual playful demeanor softening. “life happened,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “family came first. had to make some choices, you know? i met your beautiful grandmother.”

y/n nodded, sensing there was more to the story but not wanting to push. “still, i had no idea you were so good at baseball. that’s… amazing.”

gramps brightened a bit at her words, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, maybe i’ll teach you a thing or two one of these days. can’t have that baseball kid showing me up if he ever comes around again.”

gramma chuckled, shaking her head. “you two are impossible. now, finish up here before the sun sets. and y/n, don’t let him skip out on the waxing this time.”

“hey!” gramps protested, but he was already reaching for the wax.

as y/n worked on her bike nearby, she couldn’t help but glance toward the street again, wondering if seungmin would pass by a second time. her grandpa’s quiet hum and her gramma’s occasional comments from the kitchen filled the air with a warmth that made her heart feel full.

even as she focused on her tasks, seungmin’s image lingered in her mind—his slightly awkward but oddly endearing presence, the way he smirked just enough to show he was teasing.

she shook her head, smiling to herself. her grandparents were going to have a field day if they caught her thinking about him again.

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