Noon 20+

Chan is the one rolling his eyes now. He knew you were teasing him, but he meant every name he called you—darlin’, sweetheart, honey… None of them could match how he felt about you and how much you lit up his life. You deserved someone being nice to you and calling you pretty names that, even if they couldn’t match your beauty, would put a smile on your face. His eyes follow your hand as you bring the coffee up to your lips and take a sip, letting a smile spread across your pretty face. He might not get the cold coffee or like the taste of all that chocolate you liked in your drinks but he’d do anything to make you smile like that. 

“Don’t let it rot your teeth out your head. They put about five pumps of that chocolate shit into it.” 

You laugh, and Chan feels his chest tighten. This was a good day. The sun was out, the wind was moving through the trees, and you were with him. He couldn’t ask for anything better—well, he could, but that’d make him be as selfish as he felt when he was around you. 

“Just how I like it. Want a sip?” Tilting the drink towards Chan, you watch his nose wrinkle before he leans to take a sip and then makes a face like he has something sour on his tongue. “You are such a baby. What’d you get anyhow? Coffee just black and boiling?” 

Lifting his cup, Chan grins at you before he takes a sip of just that. It was strong and he could feel it go down his throat and warm his chest. “Mmhm, like a real man.” You laugh again following it with a groan, the smile that was on Chan’s face softens into something fond. You two could be picking at each other for just about anything and all you’d have to do is look at him and he’d fall on his knees for you. 

Of course you didn’t know that. You just saw Lee Chan as your best friend. He’d met you on the playground when the two of you were in second grade. You had fallen off a swing and cut your knee. Chan had been the first person there. He had wiped away the big fat tears on your cheeks before running to find a teacher before coming back to you and telling you it’d all be okay. You still had that scar. Every time you’d wear shorts, like today, Chan couldn’t help but let his eyes move down to it. That scar marked the moment he fell in love with you but just like that 7-year-old boy, he still couldn’t tell you. Instead, he’d watched you grow up beside him and hated every man you’d ever dated, but none of them he hated more than the one you had now. 

Sighing to the sound of your ringtone, you pout at the idea of being interrupted but seeing Ian’s name on the caller ID has you sitting up and a big smile on your face. You hadn’t been dating Ian Carrington for too long, just about six months, but he felt like the one. You don’t see how Chan’s smile fades to a scowl when you put the phone to your ear and answer it, so pleased to hear from your boyfriend. “Hi, baby!” 

Chan looks down at the coffee in his hands as he listens to your voice change. It wasn’t necessarily that you were trying to be someone different with Ian; it was more that he brought something else out of you. He made you feel like you had to be perfect when that was impossible for anyone. It didn’t matter if, in Chan’s eyes, you were the closest thing to perfection; Ian still made you feel like you had to be better. 

“Yes! Really? I’d love to see you.” A soft, flirty giggle slips past your lips as you lean your head towards your shoulder. Ian still had you in the schoolgirl-in-love phase. He was one of the most handsome guys you had ever seen and there was a layer of unattainability to him that you were breaking through piece by piece. “I miss you too, babe.” Glancing up at Chan, you give him an apologetic look, seeing him stare at his coffee. From the beginning of your relationship with Ian, you had made it clear that you still needed to have time for your best friend. That hadn’t really changed, but Ian did seem to have horrible timing. “Now? Ian, I’m out with Channie…” 

Keeping his scoff to himself, Chan lifts his coffee to his lips, taking a long sip as he listens to your voice drop in volume. All he can think to himself is, here we go again. It may be lost on you that Ian didn’t like your friendship with him, but your boyfriend had made it very clear to him. It wasn’t like Ian didn’t already know where you were. You had no doubt texted him at the very least, and yet he was going out of his way to ruin a perfect day. Any other time he’d leave you sitting in your apartment bored and missing him, but the moment that Chan stepped up, suddenly Ian was the perfect attentive boyfriend. 

“Baby doll, I left work early for you. Now, don’t you wanna come see me? Spend a little time with your boyfriend? You can see Chan any day of the week. You know I’m busy, baby…” You start to speak and Ian sighs softly, speaking over you. “‘Course if you wanna stay out instead of coming to see me, I can’t make you do something you don’t want. It was wrong of me to call you while you’re out. Tell Chan I’m sorry and you two have a good day. I’ll try to see you tomorrow.” 

Meeting Chan’s curious eyes, you shift in your chair a bit uncomfortably before whining Ian’s name. You hated the idea that you might not get to see him today and the way he was talking, tomorrow seemed like it might not happen either. “No… No, baby. I can—I’ll be over in like twenty minutes, okay? I’m excited to see you.” 

It was past noon but Chan rarely got up before 2 pm. There were few things that would make him get his ass moving, but you were one of them. You were pretending to be okay. You were always doing that—Chan could tell when it wasn’t the case. There was a slight whine to your voice, like you had been crying… again. “What happened, sweetheart?” 

Closing your eyes tight, you hold the phone closer to your ear. How did he always know? Ian never knew. You could be outright crying and Ian would be oblivious. That wasn’t his fault. You were on the phone; how could he really tell? That’s what you kept telling yourself and yet your best friend caught on instantly. “No—nothing... I’m fine, Chan. What are you up to?” 

You hadn’t looked at the time before calling him. If it were anyone else, that’d annoy Chan, but it was you. He had worked the night before and been asleep for about five hours—that’d be enough. “Nothing, just sittin’ here. What happened, Y/N? I know you aren’t fine. You’ve been cryin’. Did that asshole—” 

“Channie! No… no, he didn’t do anything. Just—” Tears were on your cheeks again. You were trying to keep yourself calm but it was hard to do when you felt like shit. “We made plans and then one of his friends called.” 

To anyone else that might sound silly; however, Chan knew what it meant. You two had made plans, maybe a date or something, and then either he didn’t show up or he left ten minutes into it because one of his stupid friends called wanting him to hang out with them instead. This shit was always happening. It was easier than telling the weather, knowing if Ian was going to break your heart or not. “Want me to come over? I can pick up some Chinese and rot on the couch.” 

You felt bad putting this on Chan as often as you did. You were still dressed up, ready to spend the day with your boyfriend but instead you were crying on the phone with your friend. “That sounds nice. If you aren’t busy. I—” As if something comes to your mind, just then you gasp and whine, causing Chan to sit up a bit before you continue. “You worked last night! Oh my god! Go back to sleep. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, Channie!” 

Sighing to himself, Chan tugs his jeans up his legs, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “Stop it, darlin’. If I get tired again, I can nap at your place. You ain’t stupid. Don’t ever call yourself that. I’d kill someone for saying that to you. Smartest gal I know.” 

You pout to yourself, wiping the tears from your cheek as you listen to Chan moving around his place. You knew he wasn’t kidding. He had gotten into more fights than you could count while the two of you were in school. All it took was someone to look at you wrong or say the wrong thing and they’d get Chan’s face in theirs. He was just protective, like you were his sister or something. “I’m not. Be careful drivin’. Love you.” 

Chan knew how much Ian hated to hear you tell Chan you loved him. You hadn’t even said it to him as far as Chan knew. The thought makes a smile pull at his lips as he pulls his keys from the hook, shoving them into his jacket pocket. “Love you too. Be there soon.” 

You had been telling Lee Chan you loved him since the second grade and that wasn’t going to change. That fact was a big reason that you and Ian fought. He had told you that he loved you around the third date, but you hadn’t been sure then. You thought you knew now but the words always got caught in your throat. You probably just needed to be a bit braver. 

It didn’t take Chan long to drive to your place. He had made this drive hundreds of times and every single time, but especially lately, he felt his stomach get all tight with nerves. You were more special than you even knew. You were the type of girl to look in the mirror and think she had every single thing wrong with her, but Chan saw you for who you really were—the most beautiful girl that was ever born. He could see that you were made of everything that was good in the world, even if you thought you were plain and selfish. 

Using his spare key to your apartment, Chan lets himself in and sighs softly as he kicks off his shoes in the entryway. This was just as much home for him as his own place was. He could remember falling asleep on your couch or in your bed multiple times after a long study session when you both were still trying the college thing. He remembered waking up to the smell of food and you singing along with some pop song on the radio as you swayed in front of the stove cooking. Chan had more good memories in this apartment, but he also had bad ones. Bad was seeing Ian show up and knowing he had to leave. Bad happened as soon as you started dating that moron that you seemed to be head over heels with. None of that could compare to walking into your apartment and seeing you curled up on the couch with tears drying on your cheeks. 

“Darlin’...” The word slips off Chan’s lips like a breath as he moves across the room, only stopping to drop off the carryout in his hand before he kneels at your couch. Delicately wiping the tears from under your eyes, trying to control his face. The moment you look at him, you’d know he was upset. Chan had a hard time hiding those sorts of expressions. His brows would furrow deeply, just like his lips would turn down in a disapproving frown. “Come here. Let me sit with ya.” 

Taking a deep breath, you try to push down your emotions but that look on Chan’s face breaks you again. You sit up and he slips onto the seat you were lying on before pulling you against his chest. You know you shouldn’t rely on him so heavily but it was difficult to say no to your rock. Chan was your constant and right now he was keeping you from sinking even as you sobbed softly in his arms. “I’m so stupid.” 

Chan shakes his head and tugs you tighter to him when you start to blame yourself for your situation. You didn’t make yourself cry by treating yourself like you weren’t worth the time—no, that was Ian Carrington’s doing. “No, you ain’t. I already told you you’re the smartest and prettiest girl I know. Want me to kill him? I’ll do it.” 

His words make you laugh, but you don’t even realize how serious Chan is. Of course he wouldn’t actually kill someone, but kicking his ass into the next century? That was something he could and would do for you. 

“Don’t be silly.” Sighing into your words, you shift against Chan to get more comfortable. You were still sad but it never failed that you’d brighten up even a fraction when you were around your best friend. “He promised to make it up to me so I know he will.” 

“Sure…” Chan wanted to tell you that maybe you were being a bit stupid, but those words never left his mouth. Instead, he tightens his arm around you and stares at the table in front of him. Ian was always making it up to you, but that didn’t mean that Chan believed it. “Enough of him, I got you sesame chicken. Eat somethin’.” 

He watches as you perk up slightly and move back to sitting beside him instead of against him. You were cute as you carefully opened the bags holding the food, setting each container out like you always would. Chan finds himself wondering if your boyfriend took care of you like this. Did he come when you were crying? Did he bring you all your favorite foods and snacks? Maybe he did, but to Chan this was something only he could do. 

Squealing under your breath when you open the crab rangoon, you look over your shoulder to meet Chan’s eyes, seeing the smile pulling at his lips. “You’re spoiling me.” 

He was. That had been the intention. Chan knew he could have gotten you the bare minimum and you’d still feel the same, but after hearing you crying on the phone, he had gotten all your favorites. Leaning forward, he opens the last dish, his own but even it makes you shuffle your feet out of excitement. “Now don’t think you’re stealing my food. I’ll share with you if you share with me.” 

You knew that Chan was teasing you, but even as you open your chopsticks and take a piece of meat from his plate, he smiles at you. Speaking carefully around the food in your mouth, you furrow your brows and lean to push your shoulder against his playfully. “You always say that, but then you get something I like.” 

Picking up the other set of chopsticks, Chan looks down at them as he breaks them apart to hide the slight flush he was feeling on his cheeks. You were right. He could pick just about anything, but it felt better to get something you’d share with him. He could be plenty happy just watching you enjoy your food; however, there was something special about knowing just the right things to get to make you happy. “Yeah, whatever. Just wanna make sure you eat well.” 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you eat. At some point you turn the TV back on and hit play on the latest series that you and Chan had been watching together. Nothing needs to be said until you are the first to break the silence, glancing over at Chan as he rests his hand over his stomach. “I—hey. Did you ever call Chuu back? She was texting me but—” 

“Nah. I’ll text her later and apologize.” 

Furrowing your brows, you put your chopsticks down next to the plastic container before pulling your legs under you so you can rest back on the couch. “Did the date not go like you wanted it to? She seemed to really like you.” You weren’t exaggerating. In the past two days you had gotten a dozen texts from your co-worker Chuu asking if Chan was ignoring her. This wasn’t the first time you had tried to set him up with someone only to watch it go nowhere. 

Chan shrugs into a sigh, his eyes moving to you then quickly back to the TV. He knew he had a few unread texts from your friend but he didn’t want to lead anyone on. “Yeah, I mean, sure. The date was alright. Just got dinner at Charlie’s and I took her home.” 

Now you looked disappointed as you nodded along with Chan’s words. Sighing once again, he shifts next to you and runs his fingers through his hair. “She just—I don’t know. She’s not my type. She’s a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t think I’m ready to date like that. I’m not interested in somethin’ serious like they seem to think I am.” 

The disappointed look on your face had turned sour. You looked like you didn’t believe him now, like you were reading his mind. “I don’t think Chuu was lookin’ for anything too serious neither, Channie. I just want—listen to me, okay? You are always alone or stuck with me.” When Chan doesn’t say anything right away, his face only scrunching up like he’s tasted something that’s gone bad, you slide to your knees and reach for his hand like you are going to tug him along with you. “We should go out this weekend. I can be your wingwoman, and we can look for someone who’s more your type.” 

Saturday rolled around too quickly for Chan’s liking. It wasn’t just that he knew what your plan was with this trip to the bar, but that Ian was coming along. He had been looking forward to tonight for days, and the moment he learned about Ian’s insistence to tag along, the night was ruined. Chan knew he could have told you that he didn’t want your boyfriend there, but how would that go over? So instead, Chan tugged at his jacket as he looked in the mirror, deeming himself dressed. He didn’t have high hopes for the evening. 

You, on the other hand, were over the moon. Not only were you on a mission to get Chan a date but now Ian was actually making time for you. Leaning against your dresser, you close one eye, carefully applying your eyeliner as you listen to Ian from the other room. He had shown up about an hour early but again you weren’t complaining. Getting time with him lately was like pulling teeth. You knew that your boyfriend was a popular guy. He had tons of friends and he enjoyed his job, but sometimes you wished he’d pick you over a night out with work friends or whatever it was he did. 

“You listening to me, baby?” Huffing into his words, Ian leans against the door frame to your bedroom as he watches you. You were gorgeous and tonight it seemed like you were putting in some extra effort. He was doing his best to tell him that was because of him. “That dress is pretty. It new?” 

You smile at Ian from your mirror and shift your weight to your other leg as you repeat the process on your other eye. “Yeah, I got it yesterday after work. You really like it?” 

How could he not? It was tight in all the right places and had his mind wandering as his eyes moved over your pretty legs. “Yeah, I like it. It’s a little tight.” Ian sees your smile fade slightly, but you still manage to seem unaffected by his words. “I’m just sayin’ that maybe it’s not a dress for tonight. I mean, this is about trying to find a chick for Chan, right? Why you gotta get all dolled up for him?” 

You hated when Ian did that. When he acted like there was something between you and Chan. He was jealous of your best friend and it upset you. “No—I… I’m dressed up for you, babe. I wanna look pretty for you. ‘Sides, I don’t really wanna go out looking shabby.” Pouting as you put the cap back on your eyeliner, you avoid Ian’s eyes as you whine into your words. “You want me to change?” 

God, he couldn’t stand when you were whining. You did it more often than his liking. At first it was cute, but the moment he said one thing that didn’t go in the way you wanted it to, you were whining and crying. You did a good job at making him feel like the bad guy when it wasn’t really his fault he had a life outside of you. Shaking his head, Ian moves to stand behind you, sliding his hands along your waist to pull you back against him. “Course not. You do look pretty, baby. You look too pretty, but that’s alright. Wear what you want.” 

You smile, feeling Ian’s lips against your neck, his fingers kneading into your stomach as he takes a deep breath of your perfume. Times like this you felt like a million bucks. Sure, he could make you sad, but then he’d spend time with you like this and all that sadness would fade away. “‘Kay. Thank you.” 

Humming softly against your soft skin, Ian hides how he rolls his eyes at your response. You were spoiled and it had to be his fault. Forever his bratty little baby. “Mm, anything for you, doll.” Moving back from you a bit, Ian lets his eyes move over your face in the mirror and down to your chest, where your breasts were being held up and tight by your dress, giving you mouthwatering cleavage. He should enjoy it and maybe he would if he were the one going to see it. “Maybe wear a jacket, though. Your tits are out.” 

It doesn’t surprise Chan when you and Ian show up later than planned. He had already been sitting at the bar nursing a whiskey for around half an hour before he heard your voice call his name. He isn’t able to hide his smile when you carefully move between people to make your way over to him. Chan simply sighs and opens one arm for you, letting you hug him from the side as he feels Ian’s eyes linger on you both a bit too fiercely. 

“Any luck yet?” 

Ian’s voice seems bored when he speaks to Chan, drawing his attention away from you and up to him as he takes a seat one stool away from him. At least he had left a stool for you, but the way he pulled you away from him told Chan everything he needed to know. Ian was in a mood and he wasn’t tolerating Chan tonight. How you didn’t seem to be affected by his attitude was a mystery, but Chan forces himself to smile as he shakes his head. “Nah. Ain’t been here too long.” 

Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Ian offers Chan a tight smile instead as you sit between the two of them shrugging your jacket off. It was hot in the bar but the idea of you with all that skin showing causes the smile on Ian’s face to fall into a tight line. Though he doesn’t say anything, it seems his eyes on you are enough to have you tugging your dress up on your chest. 

Chan lets himself get a good look at you and you take his breath away. You were always stunning but he had never seen you in this dress. It was perfect on you even as you fought with the deep cut of the neck that displayed your breasts so well. If this was anyone else and a different time, you’d have him on his knees for you begging for a single chance—but life wasn’t fair, and he could feel Ian’s judging eyes. 

“Baby, let’s go dance.” 

Already slipping out of his chair, Ian reaches for your hand as you whine. You two had just got there and you were on a mission. “I—yeah, okay. Channie, come with us?” 

Chan didn’t need to see the look on Ian’s face to have him turning you down. It hurt to see that smile fade from your lips but Chan is quick to cover his own disappointment as he gestures around the bar. “Checking out prospects. You go have fun, sweetheart.” 

You glance around the bar, seeing the few pretty girls that Chan had to be referencing, before biting at your bottom lip. This was what you wanted, so why did it make your stomach hurt? “Alright. Good luck!” 

Watching Ian guide you into the middle of the small dance floor, Chan watches your smile brighten as you start to dance. He should look away and give you and Ian privacy, but instead he brings his drink to his lips and sips to cover his sigh. 

“She’s pretty. That guy steal your girl?” 

The woman’s voice is sultry as she slides onto the stool that had just been yours. Glancing to his left, Chan gives her a quick once-over before shaking his head to answer her question. “Nah. Nothin’ like that.” The woman was pretty. She was wearing a tight red dress that left little to the imagination. Her long black hair was shiny and it looked soft, but Chan feels that pit in his stomach getting larger as he even considers her. 

He had intrigued her. He was one of, if not the most, attractive guys in the bar tonight and he had his eyes on some girl dancing with an equally hot man. Yet he was telling her that the girl he had his eyes fixed on wasn’t his. Maybe he wanted her to be, or maybe he just needed someone to help him forget. “I see. I’m Gabriela.” Offering him her hand, Gabriela smiles brightly, enjoying the moment that Chan finally looks at her, turning on his stool away from the girl he couldn’t have. 

“Chan.” Despite the pit in his stomach, Chan remembers the reason you had begged him to come out tonight. He had hoped for one thing, you and him alone to just enjoy another night out, but had gotten another as Ian kissed at your neck for everyone to see. Keeping his eyes on Gabriela, Chan swallows hard and gives in to what’s easy. “What you drinkin’, gorgeous?” 

Other girls were easy. Flirting was as easy as breathing on the surface; it was how he felt on the inside that made this unbearable for Chan. And yet it was working on Gabriela. She was batting her lashes and moving her hair over her shoulder to let Chan get a good look at her exposed skin. He could easily look away, but his mind was fighting him. Glancing out towards the dance floor, Chan’s chest tightens when he sees your arms around Ian’s neck as his hands slide down over your ass. That was enough to make Chan feel sick so he grins at Gabriela and lifts his hand for the bartender, ready to order her a drink. 

Smirking to himself, Ian glances from Chan at the bar down to you. “He’s doing just fine. I don’t know what you were worried about.” 

Your eyes quickly move to Chan and over the girl sitting next to him as he slides a cocktail towards her fingers. You should be happy. This was what you wanted to happen. You wanted Chan to come out and find a pretty girl to take out, but this girl looked like a viper wrapped in red spandex. You felt your chest tighten as she ran her red nails over his hand and leaned her head back to laugh at something Chan had said. “Oh… yeah, he’s— she’s—” 

Ian sighs as he leans his head back, turning you slightly on the dance floor so that your attention is back on him. “Perfect for him. Just slutty enough, right?” 

You hated when Ian talked like that, and that wasn’t the type of girl you pictured your best friend with. Then again, you hadn’t really pictured him with anyone. You wanted to, but it never seemed easy. There was always just you and Chan no one else… Glancing up at Ian, you put a smile on your lips but you don’t nod or shake your head to tell him that he’s right or wrong. You instead let him tighten his grip on your hip as you tilt your head, meeting his eyes, trying to ignore what you had caused at the bar. 

“Security?” Tilting her head, Gabriela grins at Chan as he nods. “Like a cop? Are you gonna arrest me?” 

Sighing into a strained laugh, Chan shakes his head this time. “Uh no, no, not like a cop. Just security. I—” 

“So like a mall cop then?” 

God, this girl was irritating. The only good things about her were how pretty she was and that she smelled nice. Chan had no intention of this going anywhere with how she was acting. “Sure, like a mall cop. If that’s what you wanna call it.” 

Sipping at her cosmo, Gabriela smirks around the straw, seeing the irritation in Chan’s smile. Maybe she was pushing too hard, but she had come out to get laid and she was convinced that Chan was going to be the guy she left with. “That’s cute. Do you have cuffs?” 

Chan tries to hide his scoff, but he doesn’t do it well enough as he watches Gabriela’s smirk stay in place. She was pushing his buttons on purpose and this wasn’t really Chan’s idea of foreplay. “No. Even if I did, I wouldn’t put them on you.” 

“Why not? You wouldn’t wanna play cops and robbers with me, Chan?” Gabriela had always been bold. She went after what she wanted and right now that was Chan. Catching the buttons of his jacket sleeve under her nails, Gabriela bites her bottom lip, feeling Chan’s eyes move over her, landing on her cherry red lips. “I think it could be fun. Isn’t that why you came out tonight? To have some fun?” 

Using his free hand, Chan pushes his hair from near his eyes and sighs in disbelief at how shameless Gabriela is. He didn’t fault her. He didn’t want to judge her, but was he really the guy she wanted to play this on? Just as Chan starts to turn her down, his eyes once again find the dance floor and he sees you with your back against Ian’s chest as you sway to the music. Did you even remember you had asked Chan to come out with you? Did you even care? “Yeah, maybe I did.” 

Feeling eyes on you, you meet Chan’s eyes from the bar just as he turns his attention back to the pretty girl with her hand now resting on his thigh. You felt like you were feeding him to the dogs. This girl had her claws in his skin and you were watching him get eaten alive. You start to move away from Ian to go towards the bar when your boyfriend pulls you back against him and laughs against your ear. 

“Leave him be. Anyone can see they are about to dip out of here. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” 

“I like your place.” 

Sighing as he leans towards the fridge to take out two beers, Chan forces himself to smile as he acknowledges Gabriela and what she had said. “Thanks. It ain’t much, but it’ll do.” Chan rarely let girls come back to his place, but this was better than going to hers. When Chan was inside some random girl’s space, he felt vulnerable. That felt like he could lead to more than he was willing to give. In his own space he could control the narrative and keep his power. 

“It’s very you.” 

As if this chick knew who Chan was, but instead of voicing that out loud, he just grinned and offered her the beer. He wasn’t looking for this to last longer than it needed to. “That so, gorgeous?” Trying to enjoy the moment and the release he’d be getting, Chan sits down on his couch and guides Gabriela down to sit next to him. She was soft, but no matter how much he looked at her, Chan only saw you. 

“Mmhm. God… You are so fuckin’ hot. How are you even on the market?” Gabriela had opened her beer and taken one sip before Chan had called her gorgeous again. The question was real and yet rhetorical. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She had seen how Chan had been looking at you, and if she thought too much about it, she might lose her confidence. “You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind, Chan. Want me to help you with that?” 

Chan laughs, the sound getting caught in his throat as Gabriela puts her drink down with his and slides over his thighs. She was warm under his hands as Chan let her guide them over her sides and higher to her breasts. “I might have a couple things on my mind. How you gonna help me?” He knew the answer, but that was part of the game, wasn’t it? He could see how Gabriela’s smirk grew wider at the question, and now it was just a matter of time before he could shut off his feelings and just enjoy the moment. 

“Oh, I got plans for you, Channie.” 

Furrowing his brows at the pet name, Chan shakes his head, sliding his hands back down to Gabriela’s waist. “Don’t call me that. Stick to Chan…” He could see how her face fell, but she was a woman on a mission, so it only lasted for a moment before she was right back to business. Chan closes his eyes the moment that Gabriela’s lips brush against his. He didn’t like kissing his hookups, but tonight it didn’t feel too bad. 

“Touch me.” 

He nods in response to her request, sliding his hands back along her body and to her back. Catching the zipper of her dress between his fingers, Chan groans when Gabriela rocks her hips down over his. God, he hated how easily he had gotten turned on tonight. It wasn’t even that he had a pretty girl in his lap; it was that he had closed his eyes and pictured you in her place. 

Every soft moan from her lips, Chan imagined it coming from you. The soft skin under his hands as he helped her out of her dress—that was your skin. It felt wrong, but then he had carried her to bed and kept the light off. In the darkness he could only feel her and that let his imagination carry him further. 

“Oh, fuck—” Gabriela whines under her breath as she feels Chan’s fingers scissoring into her, his other hand pulling a condom from the nightstand. She wished she could see him a bit better, that maybe he had even left the door to his bedroom open, but instead even when she whined his name, Chan would shush her. Whatever, she could stay quiet. She could let herself enjoy this. 

With one stroke of his hand to make sure the condom was in place, Chan buries his face against Gabriela’s neck and eases himself into her warmth. Would you feel like this? Would you be softer? Wetter? Tighter? God, the thought of it alone has him burying himself in her as deep as possible. What would you be doing now? Were you getting fucked by Ian? Why would Chan even think about that? It was ruining his mood—so he fucked Gabriela harder, listening to her sob his name, asking for more. 

Everything meshes together—Gabriela’s orgasm and Chan’s frustration as he has to force himself to finish, but in the end he ends up with her resting against his chest, both of them catching their breath. 

“Holy shit, that was incredible.” Gabriela wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Chan had exceeded it times ten. She had gone out looking to get laid, and she had ended up with more. Fuck, she loved the feeling of this man’s hands on her and how tender he had been with her until he fucked her like a man who was starved. “Do you want—” 

“I don’t do repeats.” 

Gabriela’s words get caught in her throat when Chan interrupts her with that. His hand wasn’t on her hip anymore; he was sitting up and turning on the light, picking up a pack of cigarettes and putting one between his lips. “What? What does that mean?”

Inhaling the smoke, Chan lets it sit on his chest for a few seconds before he turns his head away from Gabriela to blow it away from her. “Exactly what it sounds like.” 

Sitting up quickly, Gabriela stares at Chan before scoffing. He had to be kidding. She had been with assholes before but Chan didn’t seem like one. This seemed like he was putting on an act and yet his eyes were cold now when he looked at her. “Are you really this much of a dick?” 

Chan shrugs and licks his lips as he leans to flick the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand. “Yeah, but it was good, wasn’t it?” He knew what Gabriela’s reaction would be and it was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to be pissed off at him. He didn’t want her to stick around and try to get more than he could give her. Leaning out of her way, Chan sighs out smoke before resting the rest of the cigarette in the tray, watching Gabriela get dressed quickly as she curses under her breath. “I’ll order you a ride.” 

“Fuck you.” 

He knew he deserved that. He knew exactly what he was doing even if it made him feel worse about himself and the situation. “Fair, but you said you lived on the other side of town; it’s the least I can do. Don’t take some shady taxi.” 

Like he actually cared. Gabriela sees red for a moment, her palm meeting Chan’s cheek before she turns towards the door, opening it with enough force to cause the doorknob to leave a place in the drywall. “Worst lay of my fucking life!” 

Chan knew that Gabriela was full of shit. She had enjoyed it; he had made sure of that, but he let her say whatever she wanted to as he tugged his sweatpants on and followed her out into the living room as she struggled with her shoes. “Course, but I’m still ordering you a ride so calm your ass down for a minute.”  

Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Gabriela feels tears biting at her eyes, but she forces them to stay back. How was this guy treating her like this? One minute she felt like a common slut for him to use and toss out, and then he was being halfway decent, ordering her a ride home. Was this another act? What the fuck was his problem? “What did I do wrong?” 

You had drunk more than you should have. Your mind was floaty like a dandelion in the wind and you were having to let Ian help you with everything. First it had been just to walk and now it was your shoes as you leaned against the wall at the first door. “Thanks…” 

Ian laughs under his breath at how pitiful you sound, his fingers carefully tugging at the strap around your ankles in order to free your feet from the heels. “No problem, doll. You can’t hold your liquor. I told you that when you ordered another drink…” 

He wasn’t wrong. He had told you that, and you should have listened, but you felt sad before, and you had hoped the alcohol would fix it. It hadn’t. “I know.” Sighing softly, you lean back against Ian as he guides you through the living room and towards your bedroom. “Do you think Channie—” You aren’t even sure what you are asking, so you stop speaking and pout instead, causing Ian to roll his eyes. 

“Channie, what? That he got laid? Yeah, baby, I do. But why the fuck do you care?” 

It was clear that you had annoyed Ian but that hadn’t been your intention. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” 

You were whining again, and while it still annoyed Ian, he couldn’t stay mad at you for too long. You were too cute and now he did have you all to himself. “It’s fine. Stop pouting at me. Hey, Y/N…” Making sure you are looking at him, Ian runs his thumb along your bottom lip and tilts his head as you smile against his finger. “There you go. My pretty baby. This is better than being at the bar, isn’t it? Just me and you, like you’ve been wanting, right?” 

It was what you had wanted. You had been so upset when he had cancelled on you earlier in the week, but this was making up for it. You were so tired, the alcohol clouding your brain, but it felt nice to be in his arms. “Mmhm. I love being with you.” 

What Ian was hearing was that you loved him and that’s all that mattered. You weren’t whining over Chan anymore or the cancelled date; you were just putty in his hands. Carefully tugging your dress up on your hips, Ian grins at you when you stumble against him near your bed. “My clumsy girl. I’ve been thinking ‘bout this all night. You know that? How bad you drove me insane wearing this slutty little dress out in public.” 

You didn’t know, but your cheeks were on fire now at the idea of it. Was it a slutty dress? You hadn’t meant to look that way. You had just wanted to be pretty, but maybe that was what Ian had meant. “You like my dress?” 

“I like it plenty. Just don’t think it’s a dress you should be wearing out anymore.” Watching you fall backwards onto the bed, Ian knows he should just put you to bed and call it a night. You had drunk too much. You were obviously not in your right mind, yet you were talking to him. “Come here, baby. Cuddle with me.” 

Sighing happily, you let Ian pull you against him as he lies down next to you. This was nice. You had missed this. You had missed him and how good he smelled. You were so tired. The warmth of being in his arms and the alcohol in your system were doing a great job at putting you to sleep. But then you felt Ian’s lips at your throat, you felt his hand sliding along your thighs, and you couldn’t stop the way your brows furrowed. “‘M tired, Ian. Not tonight…” 

Now his brows were furrowing. You had been teasing him all fucking night and now you were saying not tonight? Groaning against your skin, Ian pulls you back against him, letting you feel his cock hard in his jeans. “But, baby—” 

You push his hand from your thigh as you whine his name. You don’t see the anger that passes over Ian’s face before he lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Then sleep.” 

And you did. You slept hard, but it was restless. You were still in your tight dress. You could feel Ian’s warmth radiating towards you and it made you feel uncomfortable. When the first bits of daylight peek through the curtains, you already feel like wanting to die. You’ve barely opened your eyes when you grimaced at the feeling of the layer of sweat covering your skin. Glancing behind you, Ian sleeps soundly, his arm over his eyes as he snores softly. He doesn’t seem to stir from his sleep until you slide off the bed and whine about how uncomfortable you are. 

“Shh… Too fuckin’ early.” 

It was too early to be awake after the night you had. Bracing yourself on the wall, you muffle your whimper, feeling your head ache. Your eyes felt like sandpaper and your mouth was all cotton. It takes you longer than it should to stumble into the bathroom before you fall to your knees on the white tile, heaving hard over the toilet. You were feeling your regret wash over you. 

Making your way back to the bedroom, you whine under your breath as you tug the zipper of your dress down and kick the garment from your legs as soon as it reaches your feet. You don’t feel Ian’s eyes moving over your body as he lies in bed, his head resting on his arm. You only feel the pain behind your eyes and the churning in your stomach as you work to release your body from the rest of the uncomfortable clothes in search of new ones. 

“Come here, doll.” 

Your brows furrow as you do finally meet Ian’s eyes, seeing the look in them. He was much more awake than you were and clearly feeling better. All you wanted to do was pull on your softest shirt and a fresh pair of panties, but his fingers draw you closer to the bed. Letting him guide you down on it, you let out a soft sigh, hoping he just wants to hold you. His fingers trace your curves, causing you to shiver as the air moves over your body. 

“You are so pretty. You know that?” 

You don’t feel it right now, so you shake your head in disagreement, hearing him tsk at you. His fingers move further down your stomach to the middle of your legs, where you close your thighs a bit tighter. “I feel like shit—” 

“Seriously? I took you out last night. I let you be the one who got shitfaced, and I got turned down then. You are seriously gonna do it again? Way to make me feel like an asshole, Y/N.” 

A frown fixes itself on your lips as you force yourself to meet Ian’s eyes. He was right. You had done all of those things. You hadn’t done it on purpose, but you had turned him down. You wanted to continue to turn him down now, but the disappointed look in your eyes made you consider how valuable his time was to you. “”M sorry, Ian. You—we can. You can touch me.” 

Shaking his head, Ian slides his hand from you. You see the look in his eye, like the feeling of your skin is offending him. Turning on your side, you whine his name only to watch him lean his head back to escape your fingers. “I—what if…” Your voice trails off as you move on the bed to your knees, looking over Ian’s body. It felt weak… forced, as you run your fingers over his thigh towards the top of his jeans, feeling him start to harden under your hand. “I can just take care of you if that’s what you want, baby.” 

Ian hides his smirk as he considers your proposition. He would be lying to himself if he hadn’t wanted this to be the way his morning went, but he wasn’t going to say that to you. Instead, he lifts his hips and nods down at his jeans to let you get started. He could feel your hands trembling slightly as you worked the zipper down and then the denim to his thighs. “Fuck, I can’t say no to you…” 

The moan in his voice fills you with a bit of confidence. You were doing good again. You had messed up, but now Ian was happy again. Did you want to go down on him this morning? Absolutely not, but what you wanted even less was to be alone. You could picture him getting upset one more time and walking out the door. That wouldn’t happen if you did this. 

Taking his hard cock into your hand, you shift on your knees to lean over his hips, tracing the tip of it with your warm tongue. The sound that reaches your ears causes your lips to pull up in a bit of a smile. It still wasn’t that you wanted to do this. It wasn’t that you were getting off on it. It was that you knew how to keep him with you. You knew how to keep the loneliness from eating you to death today. 

Ian groans your name loudly when you take him into your mouth fully. He can almost feel your throat closing around the head of his cock when you swallow. You were good at this. If there was nothing else you knew how to do, at least you could suck cock. Lifting his hips towards your mouth, Ian runs his fingers through your hair before forcing your head down over him. He was already getting close. It had been a couple days since he had fucked you and this was just what the doctor ordered. “Just like that. Fuck—fuck!” 

Cum fills your mouth after a few moments of working your mouth over Ian’s cock. You always hated the taste of cum, but one glance up to your boyfriend had you forcing yourself to swallow the salty release. 

“Shit… I love watching you do that. You don’t miss a single fucking drop of it. So hungry for it, huh?” 

You just nod, unable to find your words. You hoped that now maybe Ian would take care of you. He’d want you enough to touch you, but all he offers you is a quick kiss followed by a sigh. 

“I know you like the taste of my cum, but I don’t, baby.” Turning his face from you, Ian yawns loudly as he lifts his hips, tugging his jeans and boxers back up. “I gotta get going anyway. I promised Wooyoung we’d hang out today before he goes to work.” 

The pit in your stomach continues to grow. Darkness and cold fill it as you force yourself to smile and nod at him. “Oh… Oh, okay? I just—we aren’t gonna hang out today?” 

Shrugging as if you should know his answer, Ian slides off your bed and uses the mirror at your vanity to fix his hair. He signs into his words, boredom leaking through like venom. “We hung out yesterday, doll. Don’t be selfish. You know I have to give my friends some time with me too. I can’t stay in here all the damn time.” 

You sit up, pulling your knees towards your stomach as tears threaten to spill over the rims of your eyes. “Right. No, I know, Ian. I just…” Sniffing back your tears, you feel your bottom lip start to quiver as loneliness bites at your skin. “Just miss you is all and we only went out to the club, really. We didn’t really spend—” 

“Babe, are you crying?” Groaning out another sigh, Ian turns back to you, moving to his knee at the side of your bed and running his fingers over your head. “Stop it. You know you want some time to yourself anyhow. Don’t make me feel like shit over this. I do everything for you.” 

You want to remind him of how little he actually does, but the moment he meets your eyes, you crumble. Tears drip down your cheeks only to be wiped away by Ian’s thumbs as he waits for you to agree with him. Forcing one last smile, you try to keep the tears out of your voice, but it doesn’t work as your voice shakes. “I—yeah. No, I know… You take care of me.” 

Nodding along with your words, Ian leans forward to tilt your head back so he can brush his lips over yours. “Always will. Get some rest, doll. I’ll text you later.” 

Three fucking days since you had really spoken to Chan and he was going insane. Of course you still text him and there had been a call or two over the past thirty-six hours, but they hadn’t been anything of substance. 

Something was wrong and he was going to figure out what it was. His first thoughts landed on Ian and all Chan could see was red. If that motherfucker had done something to you… Chan couldn’t even let the words pass through his mind without gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter from the pressure. 

Relaxing his jaw, Chan tightens his hands on the steering wheel instead as he waits for the traffic light to change. He hadn’t told you he was coming over. Perhaps that was a mistake, but how was he supposed to go for so long without seeing you or really hearing you? It was like taking the air out of his lungs and expecting him to thrive. It was impossible. He had spent almost every single day of over a decade with you within arms reach and this was the first time you had ever gone silent in a way that felt endless. 

He let out a relieved sigh as he pulled into a parking space near your place—Ian wasn’t there. Or at least his car wasn’t and that was enough to keep Chan’s hopes up. As long as your so-called perfect boyfriend wasn’t in his way, he could get to the bottom of this. He could get you back. 

Jogging up the steps, Chan tugs his keys from his jacket and instinctively finds your key. This was muscle memory for him. Not even knocking, Chan pushes your door open and kicks his boots from his feet next to the spot yours sat. He dropped his keys into the bowl with yours and furrowed his brows, letting out a breath when he heard the sounds of something playing on the TV in the living room. “Darlin’?” 

You hadn’t expected company. There were only two people who had a key to your apartment and your stomach was twisting with a mixture of anxiety and relief at the sound of the door opening and closing. Ian had been distant with you for the past few days. You didn’t understand what you could have done wrong. You had given him what he wanted the last night he stayed with you and now he was giving you the cold shoulder, just stating he needed space. 

Would you really want to see him right now? Could you handle it?

The sound of Chan’s voice instantly makes your chest tighten. You felt horrible about being so distant with him. You knew that he was concerned about you, but you had gotten so tired of being the needy friend. There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t have something to complain about, and while it seemed that Chan could and would be there for you no matter what… the guilt was eating you. Were you just using his friendship to make you feel better? How the fuck was that fair to him? Chan was the most amazing person you knew and he deserved the world, not his best friend being a constant burden. 

Meeting his eyes as he moves into the living room, you try to smile at him but your resolve breaks. Tears fill the rims of your eyes and you instantly bury your face into your blanket that had been wrapped around you so tightly to keep you warm and hidden. Arms wrap around you and you feel Chan’s warm breath against the side of your head as he doesn’t say anything. He just sits in the moment with you. The anxiety seems to come off him in waves the longer you stay silent in your tears. 

“I—” You start and then stop, managing to look up and meet your best friend’s eyes. His eyes were so warm and full of love when he looked at you that it was suffocating. He makes no attempt to rush you; instead, his thumbs push the tears from your cheeks as he gives you endless time. “I’m sorry.” 

You didn’t have a single fucking thing to apologize for, but Chan understood what you meant. He could read you as well as his favorite book. He had been here a hundred times, his fingers in your hair as he soothed you. This was like flipping through that book and finding his favorite parts that he had dog-eared so that he’d never lose them. “Shh… Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s goin’ on? Where you been?” 

Leaning against Chan, you let yourself give in to your selfishness, enveloping yourself in his warmth and familiarity. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I—I don’t know why I’m like this.” That didn’t seem like the full truth, but Chan didn’t want to push you. He had you right back where he wanted you. The last thing he’d do right now is scare you away by forcing you to tell him the truth. 

“Nothin’ wrong with you.” Chan’s words make you scoff, but a smile does pull at your lips, causing him to mimic it. “‘M serious. You’re perfect like you are. My favorite person.” 

You swallow hard at that. He was your favorite person too and yet again you felt so completely selfish that it almost swallowed you whole. You didn’t deserve him like this. He could be out living his life—the idea of that makes you remember the girl that he had left the club with a few nights ago and you shift against him, a frown taking the place of your smile. “Yeah… Uh, did—how was…” You trail off, finding Chan focused so fully on you as you try to find your words. It felt wrong to pry into his life, but if he was talking about himself, then he wasn’t asking about you. 

“Did you have fun with that girl?” You see the confusion and then realization cross over Chan’s lips before he sucks in a breath trying to find his words. Before he can speak, you force a smile and lift your shoulders, trying to seem interested and nonchalant about it all. “She was really pretty. Totally… like, you know, your type. Dark and sexy…” 

That makes Chan scoff to keep from laughing. He wasn’t amused by the idea of that girl. What had her name even been? God, he was a piece of shit… Shaking that thought from his head, he meets your eyes once again as he brushes his thumb along the arm of your shirt on your bicep. “It was—she was fine. It—I’m not seein’ her again.” 

Instead of seeing what he wanted flash across your eyes, he sees concern and confusion as you shift once again against him, turning to face him, your legs crossed on the couch under you. “What do you mean? You—it seemed like y’all were having a good night. Did—” You furrow your brows as you start to ask if they hooked up, realizing you don’t really want to know. You see the look in Chan’s eyes as he anticipates the question, seeming uncomfortable with what his answer would be and how it would affect you. 

“Never mind. Um, so—” Leaning away from Chan, you swipe your phone from the coffee table, opening your Instagram and searching for something while his eyes seem to search over you. “Did I ever show you, uh—Molly? She’s the new girl at work and she was asking about—” 

Chan sighs your name, reaching for your phone and turning off the screen before he puts it back on the coffee table, shutting down the conversation before it started. “You did and I’m not interested.” The way your face falls, your eyes instantly searching for anywhere else to look but him as you try to regain your balance. “You don’t have to set me up with someone, sweetheart.” 

“But, that’s not true. You don’t try, Channie…” You could feel the frustration rising in you as you watched Chan roll his eyes in annoyance. You were doing it again, but you hated the idea of him  being sad and alone more than you were concerned if he got mad at you. “You are always alone and you don’t give anyone a chance!” 

“Because I don’t want a relationship, Y/N!” Chan hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but the moment he had, he saw the hurt settle in your pretty eyes. “Baby, listen to me. I don’t want some loveless relationship with a girl who might look good on my arm. I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone. I got you…” He hoped that you’d get what he meant. There had been very few times when he had ever let himself be this vulnerable around you and he could count on one hand the number of times he had ever called you "baby." 

Your heart beats a little harder in your chest with Chan’s words. Why was he being like this? He had always been stubborn, but this was frustrating. You weren’t enough. How could you be enough? No, you’d never let him be alone if you had your way about it, but what about when you got married? Even the idea of it leaves you with a queasy feeling rising in your throat that you force away. It was what you wanted… Right? That was the end goal. You’d marry Ian… You’d be a good wife and get your white picket fence—god, why didn’t that feel perfect like it should? That was the blueprint handed down by your mother and her mother before, but it felt tainted. 

“That—Chan, please be for real.” 

Those words are enough to break the calmness that Chan had been holding on to so tightly. Lifting his hand from you to push against the center of his brows, he scoffs, losing his patience. “I’m just about the only one being real. You wanna be for real, Y/N?” Not waiting for your answer, he bites the bullet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow as the words fall off his tongue like poison. “Why the fuck would I want to be trapped like you? Why would I want to be miserable day in and fucking out like you are?” 

The moment the words leave Chan’s mouth, you watch his eyes soften and how quickly apologies form on his lips, but the damage was already done. Tears drip down your cheeks and you push his hand from your leg, not wanting him touching you. Words don’t find your tongue; instead, you breathe his name into a sob before wrapping your arms around your legs, causing him to curse softly at your reaction. 

“No—wait! Y/N, I didn’t mean—” 

“Stop it!” 

You didn’t want to hear him make excuses for what he had said. You weren’t even mad at him. You were mad because it hit home so hard. Hell, where had you been before he showed up to check on you? You had been wallowing in self-pity over your boyfriend ignoring you. You had been eating your way through an entire pack of chips as you teared up over reality TV relationships. What hurt the most was that Chan hadn’t held back in saying it. 

“Bab—Y/N, please. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ stupid and I’m—” Anxiety was trapped in Chan’s throat as you sobbed, batting his hands away from you with every attempt he made to pull you back to him. How could he be so stupid? What the fuck had he been thinking, saying something like that to you? It didn’t matter if it was the truth. The way he had said it was wrong. While he didn’t fully understand what you saw in Ian, it wasn’t his place to tug you down like this and make you feel like shit. “I’m just some asshole! What the fuck do I even know, right?” 

A soft scoffing laugh escapes your lips between your sobs as Chan calls himself an asshole. He wasn’t far off, but that wasn’t fair of you. Blinking through your tears, you look up at him, seeing the crushed and concerned look on his face before confusion joins the mix when you laugh again. “You—you’re so stupid.” 

God, he was. Chan knew that, but as you sniffed hard and wiped your cheeks with your blanket, he found himself smiling at you softly. “You know I am. I’m sorry. I don’t know what—” 

“Let’s just let it go, okay? I really can’t handle sitting here like this anymore.” You wipe away a few fresh tears before leaning your head back, willing them to stop completely. “I look like a fucking moron.” 

Buzz buzz 

The sound was incessant as your phone kept ringing from its spot on the coffee table in front of you. 

Buzz buzz

You weren’t sure what time you had fallen asleep on this couch, but what you knew right now was that the buzzing from your phone was annoying. You were warm and your back was pressed against someone’s chest as you finally forced your eyes open. Glancing over your shoulder, you stare at Chan as he sleeps soundly behind you, his arm around your waist protectively. 

You remembered him coming over and your meltdown, but then the two of you had settled on the couch to watch some movie together. Apparently neither of you had made much of an effort to get off the couch and had fallen asleep here together. 

This wasn’t the first time by any means. Hell, he had spent nights over in your bed, the two of you talking until early morning and your mom finding the two of you gently chastising you both before a smile would take over her lips. It was innocent. This didn’t feel as innocent. You were warm and safe right here. You didn’t want to check your phone that had stopped ringing only to ring again. 

Buzz buzz

Carefully slipping from under Chan’s arm, you pull the blanket from the back of the couch down over him before picking up your phone and hissing under your breath at the name on the screen. Ian was calling you. Now you felt even more guilty for where you had fallen asleep and the fact that you had a missed call from him. 

“Hello?” You whisper as you move out of the living room and into your bedroom, leaving the door cracked. Balancing the phone against your shoulder, you bite at your bottom lip as you tug some jeans and a shirt from your closet, realizing you were still in your stained lounge clothes from the day before. 

Ian laughs under his breath. “Why are you whispering, babe? You busy?” You were never busy this early and certainly not on a day off. Maybe you were just waking up. The thought of that brought a bit of a smile to Ian’s face as he pictured you cute and sleepy, waking up against his chest. 

Shaking your head, you tug your shirt over your head quickly, replacing it with another before securing your phone back against your ear. “No, no… Course not. I missed you…” That wasn’t a lie and was part of the problem. It had been a couple of days since he had really reached out like this and you were like a dog begging for scraps when it came to his attention. “Are you coming over?” 

That question was sincere. You wanted to see your boyfriend, but it might also be nice to have some warning since Chan was asleep on your couch. Nothing had happened. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him staying at your place—especially on your couch—but you felt guilty anyway. You had slept right there on that couch with him. 

With that question, Ian sighs, leaning his head back. It wasn’t like he woke up and decided to disappoint you, but that was easier to do than breathing lately. “Nah, not today, baby. I got some shit to do with the guys. You understand, right?” 

Disappointment settles over your guilt, taking its place as you button your jeans and stare out in front of you as if you can see Ian there. “I—no. Not really. I haven’t seen you in like…days, Ian. I miss—” 

“And I miss you! Fuck, Y/N. You know that. Why you gotta make me feel like a piece of shit when you’re just needy?” 

The sound of Ian’s friends in the background makes you feel like you are sinking into the floor like a pit. They were laughing and you thought you heard one of them tell Ian he was a dick. He was talking to you like that with them right there? Tears rise in your eyes and you bite on your cheek to stop them from falling. When you don’t speak up, Ian sighs your name through the phone. 

“I gotta go, baby. I will call you later.” Before he hangs up, you hear him groan as if he’s remembering something, and he adds. “Don’t forget about dinner with my parents this weekend, alright? Wear something pretty… Love you.” The phone beeps against your ear as he doesn’t wait for your response or an “I love you” in response. 

Stretching on the couch, Chan flexes his fingers over the spot you had been, causing a frown to form on his face. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep here but he didn’t regret it for a second. He had loved having you in his arms like that. He wanted to keep you safe and happy but now you weren’t where he left you. 

Chan pulls himself up, letting the blanket you had put over him fall to the cushions as he runs his hands over his face, listening to you talk quietly in another room. He couldn’t make it all out but he wasn’t an idiot. You had to be talking to Ian. The thought of it made Chan’s stomach twist with too many emotions—anxiety, disappointment, and jealousy. God, it wasn’t his place but he couldn’t help how jealous it made him that it wasn’t him you belonged to. 

Sighing to himself, Chan gets to his feet, ready to figure out his next move, when the sound of your voice once again catches his attention. “I—no. Not really. I haven’t seen you in like…days, Ian. I miss—” You were sad; that was so clear that he didn’t even need to see you to know you were crying. You might be trying to keep it from Ian, but Chan knew you so well he could hear it in your voice. 

It takes a few more minutes for you to come out of your room. Chan quickly moves his eyes over your fresh clothes before meeting your eyes, seeing your cheeks dry. You had obviously wiped your tears away; that didn’t mean he couldn’t still tell. “You alright, sweetheart?” 

God, it was frustrating how Chan always seemed to know. Forcing a smile on your face, you put your phone in your back pocket and shrug like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. “All good. You, uh—” Scratching the back of your neck, you gesture to the kitchen before looking back over at the couch you and Chan had slept on before walking in the direction you had pointed. “Breakfast? I’m sure you got all kinds of shit to do before work…” 

Chan glances back over at the couch like you had, his brows furrowing before he follows you towards the kitchen, shaking his head. “No. I mean—yeah, breakfast, but no, I don’t got shit to do. You…” Tilting his head, Chan watches you open the fridge as you try to keep up your mask, not letting him know you are hurting. “Thought I’d just hang out with you before I went back to work. That sound good?” 

You hated how quickly you nodded in response to that scrap of attention from your best friend. The idea of being alone was eating at you and like always, he came in like a knight in shining armor, ready to make it better. Now a real smile was pulling at your lips as you turned to meet him. “Yeah! I—you really…” Shaking your head to stop yourself from talking, you laugh as you bite at your bottom lip, turning back to your task, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes as you try to find the right words. “I’m just really happy to spend some time with you, Channie.” 

Chan smirks a bit at your reaction before moving to rest against the counter near you. He loved making you smile like that. You looked genuinely excited about spending the day with him and he didn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be. “I love spending time with you. You know that.” A sigh leaves his lips as your cheeks start to heat up under his attention. You are happy when he gestures to the bowl in front of you in question. “What’s for breakfast? Flour?” 

His eyes don’t leave you even as you laugh again, moving to pull on a little apron to cover your clothes. You were so beautiful and even something as simple as watching you put on that apron had his mind spiraling. You were already starting to relax and that only made it easier for him to do the same. Like this he could let himself enjoy your company and how fucking domestic this all was as you handed him the pancake flour and a measuring spoon. 

“Pancakes, duh. I need, like, two…” You say the number like a question before checking the back of the box and nodding. “One and a half cups of that and I’ll add in the rest while you do that.” 

Grinning, Chan sets the bag down on the counter before doing as he’s asked. Dumping the first half a cup into the bowl, he watches you carefully as you bite at your lips, cracking an egg and adding it in as well. He could picture doing this shit every day for the rest of his life with you. If he let himself imagine too much, he’d start picturing you with a kid running around your legs—his kid. Something that would never happen. 

“That’s enough…. Channie!” You whine, knocking his hand, causing the rest of the flour to spill back on his jeans. The moment his eyes fall down to his now dusted jeans, you put an apologetic smile on your lips and whisper out an apology on a quiet laugh. 

“You think this is funny, do ya, darlin’?” It was obvious you did even as you apologized again, turning to drop some batter into the hot skillet. Wiping the flour from his jeans, he cups some of it into his hand, blowing it away and towards you, hitting mostly your hair and cheek. 

“Chan!” You squeal his name, kicking at his leg even as you keep your attention on the batter cooking in front of you. “I’ll kick your ass if you start this.” 

Was that a promise? Grinning once again, he reaches into the batter bowl and scoops out a small amount, smearing it over your nose as you stare at him in disbelief. “Cute.” The word leaves Chan’s mouth, followed by a loud laugh, when you smear your finger through the batter and come for him in retaliation. He grabs your wrist gently, keeping you back as you playfully glare at him. “Your pancakes are gonna burn if you keep playing with me.” 

He was right. You could already smell the batter cooking and it was starting to smell too done at this point, but this was war. With a small push forward, you rest your body against his and Chan’s eyes soften as he loosens his grip on your wrist, practically letting you reach forward and smear the batter onto his cheek. You couldn’t remember a time when he had given up so easily, but maybe you were just getting stronger. Smiling in victory, you turn back to your pancakes and flip them over, assessing the damage as Chan presses his lips together, staying by your side. 

You didn’t seem to realize that he had let you win, but that was okay. It had taken everything in him not to wrap his arms around you when you had rested against him like you had. That daydream of a life together with you had felt all too real for a moment and now Chan was struggling to calm himself down. His heart was in his chest and his hands were shaking slightly as he grabbed a towel, wiping the batter from your nose and his cheek before cleaning most of the flour from your hair as you cooked. 

“You sexting your girl or something?” 

Seungcheol’s voice and his question pull Chan out of his daze and draw his eyes upward as he clears his throat. “What? No… I don’t—” Shaking his head, he shoves his phone back into his jacket pocket and turns his attention back to the door he was watching with the other man. Despite it being a Friday night, this bar wasn’t getting nearly the action required for two to be manning the door. “I was just talking to Y/N…” 

Giving Chan a knowing look, Seungcheol’s lips pull up in a slight smirk before he steps to the side, letting in another small group of girls. They were all cute, probably close to Chan’s age and yet he didn’t give them a second glance as they eyed both of the bouncers before moving to the bar, sharing giggles over Seungcheol’s attention. “Like I said.” 

Seungcheol always did this. He was almost as bad as you. One minute he would be teasing him about you and the next he was trying to secure every potentially eligible girl’s number for him. Chan had eyes. He knew that there were plenty of pretty girls in the bar, but none of them did it for him. 

“Quit the shit. You know Y/N is just my best friend. She’s—I don’t know. Her location is still showing at work and she’s had a couple bad days.” The phone in his pocket vibrates and even though Chan knows that he should ignore it, he shouldn’t check it again while Seungcheol scrutinizes him… He can’t help it. Your name was on the screen and it made Chan’s lips pull up in a small smile as he texted you back. 

“Again, like I said. Your girl. You look like you're two seconds from cumming in your jeans every time she texts you.” 

Chan’s lips purse together as he rolls his eyes at the continued teasing. Something didn’t feel right about how you were texting him. Why the fuck were you still at work? He hated the idea of you having to order a ride home this late. 

“Ope, maybe it’s not sexting. Looks like someone just pissed in your cornflakes.” 

Sighing into his words, Chan glares up at Seungcheol, now leaning back against the door frame as he does. “Dude… I’m not sexing her! We don’t—she’s got somebody. Doesn’t matter…” 

Y/N: How’s work? You at the same bar as last week? 

Chan: Yeah same place. The fuck you still at work for? 

Y/N: Waiting for Ian to pick me up. He was supposed to be here like an hour ago.

An hour? Cursing under his breath, Chan quickly responds to you as Seungcheol smirks at one of the girls who was lingering closer with a drink in her hand. 

Chan: wtf?? Where the fuck is he? 

A few minutes pass without your answer. Chan shifts from one foot to the other, looking at the time in the corner of his screen before cursing a bit louder when you do finally answer. Both Seungcheol and the girl look up in surprise before she wanders back towards her friend. “What? Why are you being weird? I had a name and was this close to getting her digits but you had to wig out.”

“Sorry, I didn’t—goddammit. I’m gonna kill his ass.” Looking up from his phone, Chan scowls heavily, shifting in place once again like it's difficult to stay still. He looks about one breath away from walking out the door and yet his feet are cemented in place, knowing he is on the clock. “The motherfucker forgot to pick up Y/N from work and now she’s sitting on East Higgins tellin’ me she’s gonna order a goddamn Uber.” 

Now it made sense—the ready-to-kill-someone look that was plastered on Chan’s face. Glancing around the bar, Seungcheol shrugs before gesturing to the door. “Get the fuck out of her and go take her home. Ain’t shit happening in here tonight. It’s dead as fuck and you know it.” 

Taking his own look around, Chan groans under his breath, feeling tugged in two different directions. He didn’t skip out on work and though he knew Seungcheol would cover for him, the idea of it ate at him. Then again, you were willing to risk a ride with some shady fuck who might be cruising near your work. Chan felt bile in his throat at the idea. Sure, you might be just fine. You might get the nicest driver in town and there was always the chance you’d end up with some asshole who’d make you uncomfortable. 

Seconds tick by and Chan runs his hand over his face before nodding at Seungcheol, who was staring at him, waiting for him to get his ass in gear. “Yeah…. Yeah, alright. I’m goin’. I’ll make it up to you. Swear.” 

Not waiting for much more than a nod, Chan tugs his keys out of his pocket and moves through the door and out towards his car as he texts with the other hand. 

Chan: Fuck that. I’m on my way. Be there soon.

Guilt eats at you when you see that text from Chan. You hadn’t wanted him to leave work for you, and yet alongside the guilt, you were feeling some relief. It was cold. You had walked out the door of work expecting Ian to be waiting for you only to notice his car wasn’t there. He had promised to pick you up. He had been the one to urge you to get in a couple extra hours on your latest project at work, and now he was too busy to come get you. 

Ten minutes pass and you look up in surprise when Chan’s car comes to a stop with a loud screech of his brakes. He had been at least twenty minutes away. You were full of anxiety, considering how many traffic laws he had broken to get to you as quickly as he had. Wiping your cheeks quickly to get rid of the leftover tears on them, you tug your bag onto your shoulder and make your way over to the car. 

Chan furrows his brows as he waits for you to get comfortable in his passenger seat. You looked like you were freezing and he he didn’t wait even a second before turning up his heat and reaching to brush his fingers over your cheeks. Your skin was like ice and he could feel the line where tears had dried in the cold air. Of course you had been crying. God, how could you not when you had been relying on someone and they let you down once again? “Here, give me your hands.” Reaching for both of your hands as you lift them, Chan cups them in his own and exhales warm breath onto your trembling fingers. “Why didn’t you go back inside, sweetheart?”

Sighing into a laugh, you tilt your head watching Chan as you start to warm up bit by bit. “The door was locked. When I realized Ian wasn’t here, I tried to open the door again, but it was too late. I—he told me to get an Uber home and I could’a done that, Channie.” 

Chan scoffs before his teeth clench to stop him from saying something he shouldn’t. “Alright, why did you work so fuckin’ late for? It’s Friday… Don’t you usually get drinks with people from work?” 

You could see the concern on Chan’s face in the way his brows were knit together and how his jaw was so tight. Taking your hands back from him, you shrug and offer him a soft smile as he finally puts the car into drive, turning towards the direction for home. “Have that big project and I was toying with the idea of getting it done this weekend. I was gonna come in tomorrow but I have dinner with Ian’s parents so he—we—thought tonight might be better to just knock it out.” 

Every fucking decision you made tonight had been for him. The fact of that was causing Chan’s hands to tighten around his steering wheel. He was trying to stay calm, but when you wave it off, he snaps. “He’s a fuckin’ asshole.” You sigh Chan’s name and before you can continue—to defend Ian—Chan practically growls into his words. “No, Y/N, he is. He left you in the fuckin’ cold because he’s too goddamn pathetic to keep his word. You’re too good for him. Why—you should drop his ass.” 

Chan had said things like this before, but he had never been so mad about it. He let you make your own choices, even if he didn’t agree to them, but he had never outright told you that you should break up with Ian. “Don’t be silly. It’s not a huge deal. I’m fine…” 

“No, baby, it’s not.” He hadn’t meant to call you baby, but he wasn’t thinking straight as he tapped his thumb on the wheel hard, waiting for the light to change. “He treats you like shit. Be serious for one second and think back on just the past couple of weeks. How many times has he done what he said he was gonna do?” 

Swallowing hard, you consider Chan’s words and your mind does start to recount the canceled dates and all too many times you were left crying over something Ian had done or had forgotten to do. 

“You work too damn hard to start pulling ten- to twelve-hour days. Oughta wear your ass out for even doing it.” 

Now Chan was muttering under his breath, but you feel your cheeks heat up at his words anyway. He cared about you so much and without question. Sighing softly, you whine his name and shake your head when his attention is back on you. “I know, Chan. I—you’re right, but we’ve been together for so long and he’s—you know. He’s talking to his parents more about shit and we’re doing dinner tomorrow. I’d be an idiot to give up something so good.” 

Scoffing, Chan runs his fingers through his hair before leaning his elbow against the door as he rests his thumb against the bottom of his lip, keeping his eyes on the road. “What’s so good about it? Seriously, tell me because, sweetheart, I don’t see it.” 

You sigh again and lift your hands as if it’s obvious, but Chan’s brows just lift in question. “Oh my god, like everything. He’s good-looking, he’s got a good job… His family is—they’re a good family.” 

“And he’s got a shitty-ass personality.” 

Finally a smile pulls at your lips, causing you to look down. Just seeing it on your face has Chan smirking against his thumb until you speak again and he feels his stomach in his throat. “I think he’s gonna propose, Channie. I’d be throwing all that away. A good stable life… A chance to have kids and give them that life too.” 

Chan fights the urge to say he hopes you’re wrong. He wants to scream at you and tell you not to be so stupid, but what kind of friend would that make him? He could tell you that he could provide that for you—but you didn’t want him like that. He was fucking delusional to even consider it, yet the bile was biting at his throat, causing the next words to come out like the acid he felt. “You really wanna play submissive housewife to someone like that? Someone who doesn’t give you the fuckin’ time of day to come pick you up from work now? This is just you two dating, Y/N…” 

His words cut you deep, but you consider them even as they bite at what you have left of your confidence. “I—I don’t know Channie. It’s all I know…” 

Shifting the car into park, Chan’s eyes move over your face as you keep turning to look at the building with another soft sigh. The moment you start to reach for your bag, he slides his hand into yours, lifting it towards his lips again, brushing them over your knuckles. He watches as your head tilts and your eyelashes flutter like you’re lost in thought before he fills the silence. 

“You know how much I love you, right?” Chan smiles against your knuckles when you nod, telling him you love him too. “And I just want you to be happy. That’s all I care about.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat even as you lower your hand back down to your lap. You can feel Chan’s lips against your skin and it makes you feel like you are floating, while at the same time panic creeps up your spine because how do you land after that? You wouldn’t; you’d crash to the ground in a bloody heap. You couldn’t consider him like this. You couldn’t ruin this with him. Why was your heart beating like a drum?

“Go on, beautiful. Get some rest.” 

The fish on the plate in front of you was staring at you. Even as you pushed your fork against the side of it, there seemed to be no way to make the fish close its eyes. You could hear the soft drone of voices around you, and yet it wasn’t until Ian closed his hand around yours that you seemed to come back to the present. 

“Mother was speaking to you…” Ian had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t real. There was a strain in his lips that you could see so easily. Dropping your fork, you smile at him and then look to his mother. She was the very picture of a kept housewife. Her brown hair was in a neat chignon near the nape of her neck. Her makeup was light and yet hid every single imperfection. The smile on her face was just as strained as her son’s. 

“I—I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carrington. What were you saying?” 

She scoffs under her breath, glancing at her husband by her side, who hadn’t stopped inspecting you from the moment you had sat down. He was what you imagined power personified would be. He scared you a bit. He looked so much like Ian, and yet there was a deepness in his eyes that made you feel like people could get lost in them. “That’s alright, dear. I was asking about your job. I was wanting to know what advancement opportunities lie at your company. Are you fulfilled there, dear? Would you still work once you have children?” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you swallow hard, feeling Ian’s thumb rub against your wrist bone as they all wait for you to answer. “I—” Why couldn’t you just spit out the words they wanted to hear? Why was this so uncomfortable and difficult? You had met each of Ian’s parents separately over the course of your relationship, but this was the first time you had all sat down together. 

“She works so hard. I’m sure there would be something that could and should be available to her.” Ian speaks up, covering for you and you find yourself grateful until he tilts his head and sucks at his teeth. “But I think Y/N would be happy to stay at home with children. She’ll make a wonderful mother. Right, baby doll?” 

Ian’s eyes, along with his parents’, stay fixed on you as your cheeks start to burn. You weren’t really ready for kids at this exact moment. Of course you had thought about them. You had told Chan the same just a day before, but now that the subject was in front of you and your life was being spelled out for you, it had your heart in your throat beating with every word. “I—I don’t know. There’s time to figure that out.” 

That hadn’t been the response anyone at the table had been waiting for. For the first time in about twenty minutes, Ian’s father makes a sound, and it’s one of disapproval. “You’ll need to figure it out, Miss Y/L/N. There are expectations as a Carrington… That is what all this bullshit is about, is it not?” His eyes then fell to his son, who rested his elbow on the table, pursing his lips against his index finger. 

“Well, I—Sir, I couldn’t assume—” You had started to speak only to feel Ian’s hand tighten around your wrist to stop you. Wincing a bit at the pressure of his hand, you look down at it and then over to Ian even as he keeps his eyes off of you and on his parents. “That hurts…” You manage to whisper the words, leaning towards Ian, and his eyes finally shift to yours. While his fingers ease slightly, he doesn’t let go, and the look in your eyes tells you almost everything you needed to know. He knew that it hurt, and he had meant it. Were you being so impossible that he had to physically shut you down? 

“Y/N understands, Father. Don’t worry about—” 

“I’ll worry about what I want to worry about, Ian. I’ve played along with this—” His finger shifts, pointing from him to you as he furrows his brows in discomfort. “For too long. You told me that she was perfect. I fail to see that.” Settling his eyes back on you, Ian’s father moves his eyes from the top of your head and down as if he can see through the table. “We asked for you both to dress for the occasion. Your girlfriend decided that this restaurant warranted a tight dress that leaves nothing to the imagination? She can’t speak without stammering like an uneducated child. I’m not seeing the perfection.” 

Your stomach flipped with each of his hits to your appearance and actions. This should be the time that Ian stood up to him and named everything he liked about you. You could imagine him being furious with his father and how he was speaking to you; instead, he lowered his own hand, smoothing out his perfect shirt, and tightened his hand around your wrist again. 

“I did ask better of her, Father.” Seeing your jaw drop in surprise, Ian turns to look at you, leaning in closer to speak quieter just for you. “Stop that. You know I did. I told you multiple times this week that this was coming up, and you said you understood.” His eyes shift down to your dress and the bit of cleavage that peeks from the neckline with a displeased groan. “I told you to look perfect. At least you can do is think before you speak. You know the pressure I’m under… I like you, but Jesus Christ, Y/N.” 

“Like me? You don’t love me?” Your eyes cut into Ian as he sighs your name, glancing towards his parents as they speak in a similar way. His father’s neck was flushed from anger and you weren’t making this easy. 

“Stop… I—you know I love you.” 

Tugging your hand away, you go back to looking at the poor dead fish on your plate as Ian apologizes to his parents for you. This didn’t feel like love, but what were you supposed to do but take it? This was what you had signed up for, right? You had slowly started to learn who Ian was. He was one person with his parents and another with his friends, and with you he had never been this. Not really. He had been mean before, but today, this was cruel. 

The dinner had gone on for longer than you had wanted. You had spent more time staying silent and nodding along with Ian or his mother as his father continued to tell you how the relationship would be going from here on out. He had slapped his hand to his son’s shoulder with a painful clap before shaking his hand and telling him you all could meet again in a month to discuss the next steps. Was that how an engagement should begin? Was this a business proposal that his father needed to sign off on before your boyfriend could or would get on his knee to ask for your hand? 

Looking out the window, you sigh as Ian keeps his eyes on the road. You hadn’t spoken to him since the two of you had told his parents goodbye, but it didn’t seem like it was bothering him. It isn’t until the car is parked outside of your building that he turns his attention back to you and breathes out your name. It hurt hearing his voice so soft now when he had hurt you so badly today. Glancing towards him, you feel yourself start to melt a bit at the apologetic look on his face. Maybe you were being too harsh. He had said it himself; he was under a lot of pressure. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Ian slides his hand over yours on your leg, lacing his fingers through yours as he watches your brows soften. “I said I was sorry, babe.” 

He had said that, but at the time it hadn’t felt like he meant it. Now you weren’t as sure. It was confusing. There was an ache in your heart, but having his soft eyes on you like this now… did it make everything better? Shaking your head, you watch his lips pull up in a smile before he turns your hand in his, lifting it towards his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. The entire moment makes your stomach twist as you picture Chan doing the same thing the night before when Ian had left you sitting outside of your office. 

“That’s good. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

At those words, your mouth dries up and you stare at Ian like he’s joking. Tugging your hand away, your brows once again tense as you try to find your words, feeling like there is cotton sitting on your tongue. “Wha—what? What do you mean? You aren’t coming in?” 

Ian sighs, leaning his head back against the leather headrest. “Baby, I have shit to do. We just had this fucking conversation.” 

All you see is red. You grab your purse out of the floorboard and get out of his car quickly, slamming the door behind you. You can hear Ian cursing behind the closed door and he doesn’t stop as he gets out and moves around the car quickly, his eyes narrowing on you. “The fuck is your problem? You’re acting like a spoiled brat! If you fucked up my car— I swear to god, Y/N!” 

You had hoped that maybe he was getting out of his stupid expensive car to come to get you. You let yourself believe for a split fucking second that he was angry you weren’t going to talk this out with him, but no. Of course he wasn’t doing that; instead, you watch as Ian runs his hand over the door of his car. 

“You need to watch your damn temper, Y/N. This car is worth—” 

“I don’t give a fuck what it’s worth, Ian!” Staring at him for a few seconds, you turn your attention to the car and kick at the door hard, feeling the heel of your shoe scratching at the paint. His hands grab your biceps, and he pulls you tightly into his arms, causing you to wince at the force he uses to keep you in place. 

“Get your ass inside before you do something to really piss me off!” With a rough push towards the steps, Ian glares at you, and you glare back, tears dripping off your cheeks. 

Across town Chan hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about you. He had checked his texts one more time; Chan sighs when he sees his message to you left unread. He knew that you were out with Ian, but he couldn’t help himself now as he pulled into a parking spot and looked towards your place. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t seeing that motherfucker pushing you away from him, causing you to stumble. 

It only takes seconds for Chan to run towards the other man and for his body to crash into his, sending them both to the sidewalk below. His knuckles meet Ian’s jaw and Chan feels pain rush through his hand from the force. You were yelling now, but Chan only saw him. It didn’t matter that his knuckles were split from how hard he was punching Ian; it only mattered that it was finally happening.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Growling into his words, Ian lands a punch on Chan’s stomach, giving him a split second to roll over him, taking advantage of this fight. He hated this asshole and now he finally had a reason to kick his ass. Taking another swing, this time for Chan’s face, he hits skin, feeling the bone underneath. Ian hoped he had done some damage, but the man below him just glares at him even as blood starts to run down his jaw from his lip. 

“Stop it! Please!” Your throat was raw from how loud you were having to be, just hoping either Ian or Chan would listen to you, but instead you watched as Chan put Ian back on the ground below him and landed a punch against his side, causing your boyfriend to groan in pain. “Oh my god! Chan, stop it!” 

You knew it was stupid to try to break up the two men, but the moment that Ian ended up back over Chan, your heart was in your throat hearing the sound of his fists against your best friend’s face. Starting to reach for Ian, you meet his eyes briefly when his elbow swings back and against your jaw, causing you to see a flash of white as pain spreads through your face. 

Sirens blare in your ears even as you stumble back, your hand on your cheek, hearing Ian and Chan cursing at one another. You couldn’t make out their words anymore. You only seem to focus when a woman speaks to you, her hand on your arm as you look past her to watch two police officers dragging your boyfriend and best friend apart. 

“Miss?” You blink at the woman, seeing the concern in her eyes as her eyes fall to your already swelling jaw. “Which one of them hit you? Do you need an ambulance?” 

Shaking your head, you glance down at the badge on her chest as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. “No…” Beyond the police officer in front of you, you watch as both men are cuffed behind their backs, Chan struggling briefly before he’s told to stop. His eyes were focused on Ian’s, whose eyes were full of the same hate. 

“Would you like to press charges?” 

Those words bring you fully back to the moment, and you step towards them only to be pulled back by the female police officer, who tries to keep you calm. “No! I—it’s not like that. Please don’t take them.” 

“Miss, if either one of them cared enough to stay here, they wouldn’t have been fighting on the side of the street.” 

It had been close to eight hours since you had watched Ian and Chan being driven away in police cars. Your face was aching even as you held an ice pack to it with your eyes fixed on your cell phone. You had texted both of them hoping for a response, and it was as if time was laughing at you as the screen of your phone stayed black. 

Tears begin to well in your eyes, and finally relief mixed with panic floods through you as you grab your phone and look at the message from Ian. 

Ian: I’m sorry. 

Pressing down on his name, you put your phone to your ear and whine when he sends you straight to voicemail with another text, causing your phone to vibrate in your hand. 

Ian: I need some time. My parents bailed me out. Theyre pissed.

Of course they would be. God, this was the fucking worst. They’d hate you even more now, but you find yourself not dwelling on that. At least Ian was out, and you two could talk about this. You needed to talk to him about what happened, but your mind shifted to Chan. He hadn’t texted you back yet and you didn’t know if he was even okay. 

Y/N: I’m so sorry. Do you know if Chan is okay?

Ian: don’t fuckin care hope he rots in there 

Ian’s text causes your mouth to drop open in disbelief. You knew that there would be animosity after what had happened, but not outright rage like that. 

Y/N: Don’t say that…

A moment later your phone rings, showing Ian’s name on the caller ID. Anxiety ripples through you as you answer, putting the phone to your ear. 

“Really, Y/N? You gonna go that damn low to back that motherfucker after what he did to me? He attacked me!” 

Opening your mouth, you start to speak only to hear Ian curse as his mother speaks in the background, telling him to calm down. Tears that had been sitting on the rims of your eyes start to trail along your cheeks as he curses your best friend, calling him every name he can think of before turning his attention back to you. “When are you gonna get it through your thick ass skull who and what he is?” 

Swallowing a sob, you shake your head and wipe your tears from your cheeks. “No, stop it. It’s not like that. You—You pushed me and he—” 

“Oh my god, Y/N! I apologized! I was just pissed. You kicked my goddamn car! You were acting crazy!” 

Once again you start to speak, the sob coming through in your voice as you start to defend yourself and Chan, only to hear Ian hit something through the phone and his mother gasp, immediately telling him to calm down again. “No, I’m not calming down. You know what, Y/N? I can’t do this bullshit anymore. I'm done!” 

Your heart cracks at his words. You feel the pieces shattering in your chest as you try to catch your breath, whispering that this isn’t fair. You don’t get the chance to speak again as the phone beeps in your ear, leaving you just as alone as you were. Tears drip onto the screen of your phone and your shoulders shake as you feel a wave of pain wash over you, followed by a sense of relief. The relief confuses you; it has you sitting up straighter and wiping the tears from your face before you find yourself calming down enough to think. 

The evening replays in your mind. The pain in your jaw has your brows furrowing as you let out a soft, calm breath, realizing you aren’t nearly as heartbroken as you should be. 

Staring up at the police station, you swallow hard before taking the few steps up the stairs before pulling the door open to look around. You couldn’t say that you had been to the police station often, if ever before, but looking around it now had you relaxing more. You had expected bad guys cuffed to chairs and people yelling as police officers led them around, but instead you found one man leaned back in a chair with an annoyed look on his face as a woman sat behind a desk offering a smile to you. 

“Uh, hi. I—could I speak to someone about bailing someone out?” 

The woman nods before pressing down on her radio, asking for another officer to come out before she gestures in that direction. The man offers you a soft smile and then his hand as he introduces himself as Officer Jeon and waits for you to do the same. “How can I help you, Miss Y/N?” 

Following him towards a set of chairs, you sigh before finally speaking. “I want to bail out my friend Lee Chan. I—I’ve never done this before. I brought some cash…” Lifting your purse into your lap, you start to dig out your wallet when the officer laughs under his breath. 

“Let me get his release papers, and we’ll get this figured out.” After a few moments of you sitting awkwardly waiting for him to come back, he waves the papers at you, and you move to stand, going towards him. “His bond is set at $1000 cash. He was charged with public disorderly conduct. This is his court date, but he knows that too.” 

You once again start to take out your wallet when Officer Jeon gestures to the woman you had spoken to when you had arrived. “She’ll take that from you, and I’ll go get Mr. Lee.” 

Nodding, you slowly make your way towards the woman as she takes the papers from the other officer, beginning to process his release into your care. 

Chan’s face was aching, and that didn’t match the feeling of his ribs. He wasn’t sure that he hadn’t broken something, but rage was doing a good job of masking it. Someone was bailing him out and Chan couldn’t think of anyone besides you. That was crazy, though. You wouldn’t want to see him after how he acted. He had just seen shades of red and black when Ian had laid his hands on you. Then he had almost blacked out when he heard that motherfucker’s elbow hit your face. You had looked terrified and shocked. 

Walking behind Officer Jeon, Chan sighs under his breath, lifting his head to see you standing there with papers in your hand. You had come for him after all. There wasn’t anger in your gaze like he had assumed there would be; instead, you looked like you were going to cry at the sight of him. 

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Even Chan’s voice sounded as rough as he looked. Enough time had gone by that, just like your bruise, his was starting to bloom along his skin. There were so many, and you knew there were more you couldn’t even see. Moving towards him, you move into his arms, hearing him grunt in some discomfort as he nods along with the officer’s words, promising to go to his court date. 

Leaving his arm around your shoulders, Chan moves through the station with you and out the door, taking in a deep breath of the evening air. His cell hadn’t necessarily stunk, but there was a chemical cleaner smell that made it even more unpleasant. He had laid down on the thin mattress over the metal bed and attempted to rest his eyes, but all he could see when he closed them was the fear in your eyes. This was better; this was freedom, and he’d do anything he could not to end up inside of one of those cells again. 

You turn in Chan’s arms and look up at him, the tears in your eyes spilling over as you run your fingers over the bruises on his face and then the cut on his lip. “I’m so sorry.” You have to catch your breath through the words, and even as Chan shakes his head, ready to apologize, you refuse it, burying your face against his shoulder, letting him hold you tight. 

“I’m alright. Shh, sweetheart. Let me see you…” His voice is soft as you look up at him. Chan traces the swelling on your jaw, and his teeth clench in anger. That pissed him off more than any bruise or broken bone he might have. You should have never been touched in the first place, but this was worse. 

“It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t okay, and Chan wanted you to understand that, but you were looking at your phone before he could speak. He could see that you had already ordered a ride and now you were just checking to see how long it would be before the Uber would show up. 

Holding the door so you can get into the car, Chan furrows his brows as he sits beside you, letting you rest against his side. He finds himself wondering if you did this same thing for Ian. If you had taken him back to his car and let the prick apologize before he swept you back off your feet. The idea of it makes him feel sick, bile rising in his throat as his eyes move over the side of your face. “I—so, did—have you spoken to Ian?” 

Chan watches as you take a deep breath at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. His eyes follow your face as you nod, but you don’t give him much more than that. God, this wasn’t good, was it? Rubbing his palms against his jeans, Chan looks out the window as the driver turns towards your building and parks. Starting to speak, Chan stops when you thank the man and look at him expectantly. “You—yeah, sorry.” Sliding from the seat, Chan watches you do the same before he closes the door and listens to the car drive away, leaving you both in silence. 

His car was still parked where it had been, but Ian’s was gone. Swallowing hard, Chan tugs his keys from his pocket, ready to speak again when you take his keys out of his hand and lace your fingers with his instead. “I’m not going home? Don’t you want some time away from me?”

He watches as you shake your head and start to lead him up the stairs into your building without so much as a word at first. The silence was like feeling needles against his skin even as your hand rested in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this shit to happen and I—I just… He pushed you, and I freaked the fuck out. He’s a cocksucker with a complex, and I should just keep my mouth shut, but I hate the idea of him touchin’ you—you know, like that.” 

Pushing open the door to your place, you sigh Chan’s name and laugh sadly under your breath. “Stop apologizing. It was my fault and—" You trail off before letting go of his hand, dropping the keys into the bowl and walking into the living room, knowing he is following you. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Chan’s brows furrow at your words, leaving him confused. What didn’t matter anymore? You don’t give him much time to dwell on it as you look back at him and sigh sadly. Moving to take his hand again, you lead him towards the bathroom, leaning to turn on the shower and turning to tug his shirt from his jeans as he watches you closely. Your fingers timidly trace the outline of the biggest bruise on his side as your lips turn down in a frown. 

“This is all my fault.” You were echoing your words from a few minutes ago, but now there was so much pain laced in them that it was breaking Chan’s heart. “I’m so difficult.” You wipe your tears from your cheek angrily before pushing Chan’s shirt up his torso, making him help you get it off as you look over the cuts and bruises that were hidden from you. “We went to lunch with his parents, and they hated me. They hated what I was wearing and how I spoke. Ian was so ashamed of me…” 

Gritting his teeth, Chan leans his head back to keep himself from reacting like he’d prefer to hear how your day had gone. You weren’t someone that anyone should ever be ashamed of. You were perfect, and if they couldn’t see that—if Ian couldn’t see that—none of them deserved you. “Fuck them. Fuck him. I’d kick his ass again if I got the chance. I’ll kill him—” 

“No, you won’t.” Sniffing back your tears, you take Chan’s shirt from his hands and hold it close to you, starting to walk out of the bathroom. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. He broke up with me. I—" You laugh sadly under your breath again, and Chan leans against the bathroom counter, his brows furrowed at this new information. “I asked about you when he told me his parents bonded him out. He told me you could rot in there for all he cared.” Tears stream down your cheeks, but you can’t decide if you are sad, angry, or numb. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Moving towards you, Chan slides his fingers over yours, pulling one hand to him as he tilts his head. “You don’t have to do anything. How are you feeling? That’s what I want to know. He didn’t deserve you, but I—” 

You laugh again, leaning your head back to attempt to stop the tears still flowing from your eyes. I don’t know how to feel. Ian… He was supposed to be my forever. I had been banking on it, you know?” 

Taking another step towards you, Chan groans your name under his breath as he shakes his head, reaching up to wipe tears from your cheeks. He hated that you were crying over this asshole. It broke his heart to see you so broken. “You deserved so much better. You deserve someone better than some pussy who is going to throw you around like he did.” 

Those were pretty words, and that makes you smile. It was like being told a joke that you knew the true punchline to. “I’m never going to find better than that, Channie.” 

That’s all it takes to break Chan and for him to push you against the door so he can rest his hand on the wood beside your head. His other hand rests against your face, his thumb brushing away more of those tears. He shakes his head resolutely and meets your eyes. “You are worth the fucking world. I just—I just wish I wasn’t such a fucking coward and could say exactly what I want to say to you. I wish just once I could show you what that means…” 

You feel fear spreading through you at Chan’s words, but as much fear as there is rushing through your veins, there is hope chasing it out. You wanted to hear what he had to say. You didn’t want to push him away or make another excuse to get away from him before something happened you couldn’t take back. You didn’t want to take this back. 

“Fuck… Y/N, I love you.” Chan whines into his words when you quickly repeat the words back to him, but he rests his forehead against yours and traces the line of your neck as he forces himself to be brave. “No… Not like that.” Seeing the look in your eyes change, Chan sighs, sliding his hand from the door to rest it on your waist. “I—of course I love you like that, baby. I mean, I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you.” 

Seconds tick by into minutes with you staring up at him with confusion in your eyes until finally understanding seems to wash over you. Reaching up to slide your hand along his chest, you hear Chan whisper your name, pain lining his voice with fear of rejection, before you finally reach his neck, tugging him down the few inches you need. 

Your lips are soft and yet it feels like a fire is behind that kiss when your lips finally meet Chan’s. A groan slips between his lips and into yours as he takes the last step towards you, pinning you between him and the door. This had to be in his imagination. This was every dream he had ever had and it was going to take convincing for Chan to realize it was real. 

Hands carefully trace the line of Chan’s side before you rest your palm against his abs, feeling him suck in his stomach at your touch. You knew this was crazy. There was so much that could go wrong with this, but you push those thoughts away and whine out a moan into Chan’s mouth as his fingers press into your skin over your shirt. 

Somehow this feels so overdue. You feel the fire that had been stoked in your heart burst into flames when Chan groans your name, sliding his hands down your hips then over your ass to lift you. He steps between your legs, and you lock your ankles behind his back, rolling your hips down over his, feeling his cock hardening in his jeans for you. 

“Fuck, baby…” You felt so good against him. He had imagined this thousands of times over the years, but nothing could prepare him for how you actually felt. Your lips were so soft, and your tongue was warm against his. Your body was perfect. He loved how you fit against him and how you clearly wanted him as much as he wanted you. He could feel heat between your thighs, and his cock was painfully straining in his pants now. 

Sliding his fingers along your waist again, Chan breaks the kiss to look down at you for any signs of regret as he pushes your shirt up your stomach to rest under your breasts. Instead of finding any regret, he finds fire in your eyes. They were full of lust and, more importantly, love. God, this might only happen this once, and you might hate him after it, but Chan was so selfish he’d take one time. 

You help Chan slide your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with his as his hands trace your skin as if he’s trying to memorize it with his fingers. Your bra slips down your arms as he unclasps it and you shimmy against him, letting him drop it along with the other clothes. This wasn’t the first time he had seen your tits before, but there was a difference between walking in on your best friend while she changed and the way that Chan was looking at you now. 

How could you be this fucking perfect? Your body was calling to him, and Chan was determined to answer. Brushing his lips against yours again to capture them in a deep kiss, he traces the swell of your breast with one hand before running his thumb over your nipple, causing it to harden. Electricity seems to roll through your body with that action, and you arch your back off the door, pushing your chest back towards him with a whine. 

“So fucking pretty. God, let me look at you.” 

Chan’s voice is low but there’s a deepness to it that has your thighs shaking. You had forced yourself not to think about him like this, but now that it was yours for the taking, every dirty thought you had secretly had about him washed over you. You swallow hard as he steps back from the door and turns to put you on the counter so he can step back and take you in. You feel shy under his eyes and yet nothing about that makes you want to hide. 

Tugging his belt from his jeans, Chan moves his eyes over every inch of your skin without regret. You were his. At least in this moment you were and if it was the first and only time he was damn well going to remember every detail. He mapped out the moles and scars on your skin as he dropped his jeans to the floor with his boxers before running his hand up your legs and to your waist, undoing your jeans next. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you lean back against the mirror, lifting your hips to make it easier for Chan to tug them down with your panties. You were trying to stay focused, but his hands felt so good on your skin, and when he stepped back between your legs, you could feel his cock hard against your bare skin. 

He was big. Bigger than you had even noticed before. It wasn’t as if you had been looking at your best friend’s cock before, but you were a woman, and you weren’t blind. You had seen the bulge in his jeans more than once and let your eyes linger there for a second too long. Now you were looking and feeling without shame. Sliding your hand along your leg, you smirk when Chan’s hands tighten on your thighs, feeling your fingers sliding along his shaft. 

“Careful, sweetheart… Don’t tease me too much.” 

Was that a threat? What if you did exactly that? God, why did that excite you so much? You were soaked, practically dripping onto the counter under you, and Chan’s breathy voice had you tightening around nothing. “Why not?” 

Laughing under his breath, Chan follows it up with a groan when you wrap your hand around his cock and press his tip against your palm, smearing pre-cum onto your skin. “Brat… I don’t wanna scare you. This is supposed to be perfect. I’ve always pictured it differently.” 

That has you tilting your head as you shift forward to rest the head of his cock against your pussy, your other hand gliding along his length slowly. “You won’t scare me.” There was a smile in your voice, teasing him as you did the same with your hand and the softness of the lips between your legs. “How did you picture it? How many times did you picture it?” 

Groaning quietly, Chan opens his eyes to meet yours, seeing the challenge in your eyes. “I’ve thought about this almost every fucking day since we were teenagers, but I’ve loved you for longer.” That admission has your hand slowing and your brows softening; Chan smirks at your reaction, moving to place his hand over yours, moving it over his cock at his pace. “I pictured romancing you. Laying you back on the bed and worshiping you until you screamed my name and came on my cock.” That has your eyes widening and your fingers tightening around him. Groaning into his words, Chan looks down at your hand under his and gasps between words. “You don’t know anything about me when it comes to this. I might scare the shit out of you, princess.” 

Your breath catches in your throat when you see the look in Chan’s eye, and you find yourself actually feeling a bit nervous at his words. Yet the challenge stares you in the face, and you don’t back down. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Biting at his lip, Chan looks for signs you are lying before his hand moves for your thigh, coming back down with a harsh slap to your skin. He watches as you gasp into a moan before your head falls back against the mirror. Your eyes had rolled back into your head, and you were panting now. “Promise?” 

You had never been with a man who would actually be rough with you before. You could remember complaining about your sex life to Chan more than once, and now you could remember the smirk on his lips as he told you that maybe you just hadn’t found the right guy yet. “Fuck, I promise. Please…” 

What were you even begging for? Smirking to himself, Chan takes a few steps back from you and holds on to the ends of your fingers, urging you to slide off the counter to stand on your own. The moment your feet hit the floor, he turns you in front of him and pins you down, his chest against your back. “Spread your legs.” When you take a moment to act, Chan knocks his knees between your thighs, urging you to do as he said. “How many times have you thought about me fucking you? Be honest.” 

The question has your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You had spent years pushing down your attraction to your best friend, and now he wanted the dirty truth. Fingers slip between your wet folds from behind, and you press your hands into the cold counter under you with a whining moan. “I—a few times.” 

Scoffing at your answer, Chan uses his forearm to keep you pinned down as he leans back to look between your legs as he spreads your folds for him, seeing how wet you are. You were dripping on his fingers, and he still couldn’t prove that this wasn’t a highly realistic wet dream. It didn’t matter either way; he had to see this through. He’d die if he didn’t. “A few? Once, twice, maybe a dozen? We’ve known each other a long fuckin’ time, Y/N. I know when you’re lying to me. Don’t make me punish you.” 

The promise of that was so sweet you bite your bottom lip and suck it into your mouth, feeling Chan’s fingers barely dip into your entrance. You gasp, your lip falling from your lips when he buries his middle finger in you completely, drawing an answer from your lips. “A couple times…” 

It was a lie and he knew it. Chan grins, standing up a bit taller, letting his arm rest over your ass now as he curls his finger against your warm, soft walls. “You’re gorgeous when you lie.” With those words he pulls his finger from you, hearing you whine before his hand comes down hard over your ass. The scream falling from your lips scares him for a few seconds before you relax under him and look back over your shoulder with lust in your eyes. You wanted more. He could do that. 

Chan tugs you back further, pushing your ass out even more, before his hand smacks the side of your ass so hard that his palm burns. “How fucked up are you, baby? Wanna share stories?” His eyebrows lift, and you whine, turning your head away from him. You were embarrassed, but Chan was feasting on the sight of you. “Oh, come on. You won’t tell me the truth about how much you’ve thought about me. Least you can do is tell me how kinky you’ve gotten.” Did he even really want to know? Probably not. The idea of some other man touching you has Chan’s blood boiling, but he has to hear it from you to know just how much better he has to be. 

“I don’t know! Fuck, Channie!” Another slap to your ass has your thighs trembling, your knees threatening to buckle before Chan pulls you back against his chest as he leans to turn the shower off, making you realize this isn’t going to be over anytime soon. You whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your ass as he leads you out of the bedroom and into your bedroom. You know you should know better, but a smirk pulls at your lips as you remember what he had said. “This the part where you romance me and make love to me?” 

Grinning to himself, Chan tugs your arm behind your back a bit tighter at the teasing in your voice. “Somethin’ like that. I do want you on your back.” Turning you in his arms quickly, Chan dips his head to yours and captures your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. He continues to walk you backwards until your knees meet the end of the bed and you fall backwards without anyone to catch you but the mattress. 

Chan moves his eyes back over you and groans as he stops between your legs, seeing your folds glisten in the light. “Spread ‘em.” He watches intently as you spread your legs, your folds sticking together from how wet you really are. “Your pussy too. Be a good girl and use your fingers.” 

You lick your lips, your breath threatening to get caught in your throat again as Chan tells you what to do. You know you could tell him no. You could just lie here and let him force you to do it, but your fingers trail over your stomach and between your legs, where you use your fingers to spread your soft folds for him. 

“No one compares to you. I’ve looked at women. I’ve fucked them. You know that… Don’t give me that look.” A smirk pulls at Chan’s lips when you narrow your eyes at him recounting his own sex life. “You’re the one who urged me to date, baby. You don’t get to judge me now.” Seeing you still pout at him, though your eyes soften, has Chan chuckling in amusement. “But none of them were half as beautiful as you. None of their pussies had my mouth watering and my cock so fucking hard. That’s only you.” 

There would be no other girls. He’d never look between another girl’s legs for as long as you were breathing. You had never been so possessive in your life, especially not over Chan, but now you were practically feral at the thought of him touching another girl. How had you set up all those dates and watched some girl’s hand sliding over his arm? The idea of it now made you want to scream and tear their hair out. 

“You look like you’re going to burst into flames. Are you that fuckin’ mad? You thinking about how you took me to the bar and I left with another woman?” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

Chan laughs in disbelief as you yell at him. His hand slaps yours away before his hand comes down hard over your pussy, making you scream out a moan. “You’re furious. So goddamn jealous now. You claiming me, darlin’?” 

Tears were on your cheeks, but this time they weren’t from how sad you had been. This time they were tears of pleasure. They were tears of frustration as Chan played with you. “You’re mine.” 

God, how long had Chan wanted to hear that? How many times had he wanted to say that same fucking thing to you? Sliding his fingers along your folds, Chan grins as he meets your vengeful eyes. “And you’re mine. No one else can ever make you feel like I do. I swear that to you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard… so good, that you won’t remember that motherfucker’s name.” 

He was just as possessive, if not more. That was deadly clear now as Chan avoided even saying Ian’s name in fear you’d try to remember it. The moment you furrow your brows, Ian’s name clearly on your mind, Chan groans, but it sounds more like a growl before his hand comes down between your legs again hard. It hurt, but it hurt so good that each slap had your thighs quivering and your pussy clenching. 

“Get his fuckin’ name off your mind. What did I just say?” 

“I’m sorry! I won’t think about him. I’ll forget his name.” 

With your apology, Chan nods, his fingers smoothing the burn he had left between your legs before he turns his palm up and slides two of his fingers into you without warning. He watches you arch off the bed and how your legs try to close, but he just pushes them back down to the bed with his free hand. “You’re close, aren’t you? You gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl?” 

You wanted to be his good girl, and he wasn’t making that difficult. You were so close that it was painful. A few thrusts of his fingers over that spot inside of you had you lifting your hips off the bed and trying to push his hand away. He didn’t let you. He pushed down on your hips and pumped his fingers into you harder, faster, and unapologetically as he prolonged your orgasm, causing you to scream his name. 

Chan doesn’t stop until he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks once again. Only then does he slide his fingers from you, pausing to tease your swollen clit, drawing another whimper for mercy from your pretty lips. You were exhausted. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, and his hand was coated in your cum. It still wasn’t enough. Chan wanted you ruined. 

You shiver as Chan traces his hands along your sides, letting them come to a rest under your breasts. He was giving you time to come down from your orgasm, but you weren’t sure there was any way of coming down from this. You had never felt so limp after an orgasm as you did now. You could easily fall asleep as his hands lulled you to take deeper breaths, and yet you knew he wasn’t done. “You—You’re gonna kill me.” 

Laughing under his breath, Chan’s lips brush over the soft skin of your stomach, groaning when you shift under him. “Never. I couldn’t live without you. I thought you knew that by now.” He watches a smile pull at your lips before he nips gently at your skin, working his kisses lower. You were whining his name, almost seeming to realize where he was going, but he laced his fingers with yours and tsked. “Denying me a taste? Can’t you handle it, baby?” 

God, he was infuriating. You were made of jello, and Chan wasn’t letting you go. You’d be lying to yourself and him if you wanted him to. Opening your eyes, you watch him move lower, your bottom lip caught between your teeth only to slip out when you moan at the first swipe of his tongue between your legs. 

You tasted better than Chan could imagine. Your pretty thighs were trembling with each lick, nip, and brush of his lips over your sensitive pussy, but he wasn’t anywhere close to being done with you. Pushing your legs back towards your stomach, Chan groans like a starved man as he buries his face against you. He sucks your clit between his lips and ruts his hips against the end of the bed, hearing you cry out for him. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” Chan was muttering to himself, but he knew you could hear him. Your fingers were laced in his hair. You were pulling him closer between your legs and he wasn’t going to disappoint. His teeth tug at your soft lips, letting them go before he dips his mouth lower and forces his tongue into your dripping hole. 

You were clenching down on his tongue and practically screaming Chan’s name as he groaned like an animal against your pussy. No one had ever come close to making you feel like it. You could remember faking orgasm after orgasm with different partners, but you knew in your soul you’d never have to do that with Chan. 

Running his tongue back up to your clit, Chan grins against your skin before he sucks the bud back into his mouth and you let out a silent scream this time as your orgasm rips through you like a wave. Your thighs were closed around his head. Each breath in from his nose made his lungs scream for more, but he didn’t force your legs apart until you came to a stop with your back arched high. 

Not wasting a bit of your cum, Chan licks his lips clean and stares up at you from between your legs. Your breasts were rising and falling hard. You looked just about as ruined as he wanted you, but his cock was going to explode if he didn’t get inside of you. He knew there was more to talk about, but his brain was going a million miles an hour as he slid between your legs and pressed his tip against your clenched pussy. He wasn’t going to force himself inside of you. He waited until you were relaxed enough to welcome him in before he buried his cock in you to the hilt. 

A tired but pleased gasp escapes your lips when Chan fucks you slow, making you feel almost overwhelmed with how full you are. No one else mattered and it seemed like he knew it as he groaned against the shell of your ear, relishing in the feeling of you surrounding him. 

“You’re mine, Y/N. Even if it’s just for tonight.” Chan’s voice has a layer of sadness that you want to banish away from him, but before you can find the words, he thrusts into you again, finding a steady pace and you forget how to even speak. His lips find yours, his tongue gliding along yours as his hand pulls your leg tighter to his side, letting him fuck you hard and deep. 

Words get lost between the both of you. You both fall into the rhythm and the feeling of your skin against his. You start to think that there’s no way you can cum again, but once again Chan refuses to give up, his cock so deep and so perfect that after a few minutes you feel that coil tightening and threatening to snap. “P—Please…” 

Furrowing his brows tightly as you beg him for release, Chan groans, burying his face against your neck, his lips finding the soft skin there as he nips and sucks at it. He’d give you the fucking world. He’d tear it down piece by piece and rebuild it for you if you only asked for it. Reaching between your body and his, Chan’s fingers find your clit, and he rubs the bundle of nerves in a tight circle, feeling your thighs start to shake once again. The moment your orgasm rips through you, he has to force himself not to follow. You were clenched around him so tightly it took effort to thrust into you. You were acting like you never wanted to let him go, and by god, he’d stay inside you for the rest of his fucking life if that were possible. 

You feel Chan try to pull from you, his groans becoming breathy as his own climax tries to take him over that edge. A whine slips from your lips, and you wrap your leg around his back, urging him to stay inside you. Meeting his eyes, you see the question in his gaze, and you simply nod and whisper "please" once more. Chan’s brows furrow, and he lets out a sigh of your name before pressing his lips to yours, burying himself inside of you hard once more, letting his cum spill into you. 

Moments slip by without a spoken word. You both fight to catch your breath, and Chan’s hands trace the contours of your body before he finally slips from you and lies at your side. This was the part you were afraid of. This was always the scary part; it didn’t matter who the man was in your bed, they would either stay or leave, and nine times out of ten in your experience, they left. But this was Chan. Chan, who had slept in your bed a hundred, possibly a thousand, times in the time since you had become friends. It was Chan who was looking at you like you hung the fucking stars in the sky as his fingers traced your swollen jaw with so much care you felt like glass under his touch. 

“Do—” Swallowing your words, you turn on your side to face Chan as he lifts his brows in question, urging you to keep going. “Do you really love me?” You watch as his brows soften before he pulls you closer and kisses you softly. There is so much said in that kiss that it almost breaks your heart. 

“More than anything. For the rest of my fuckin’ life. Even if you never look at me like this again. Even if I never get you like this again… I’ll always love you.” 

Tears fill your eyes, and you whine his name, pushing him away so you can hide the tears. You bury your face against his chest, and Chan runs his hand along your back, soothing you and begging you not to push him away. How was this real? You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve Chan, but you loved him so much that it took your breath away. So finally you tell him that and you watch his lips fall open in a breathless sigh before he cups your chin and presses his lips to yours with meaning, hoping you’ll understand how important this moment is to him. 

READ THE BONUS NOW

"Quit that." You scolded.

"What is it that's got you so excited?" He huffed, his feet dragging along the wooden floors of your small home as he finally allowed you to tug him forward.

"You'll see in just a second."

Though Jongho rolled his eyes, he admitted there was a tinge of curiosity as to what it was that was fueling your enthusiasm.

"Ta-da!" You held your arms out, gesturing to the fort you had spent so long setting up in your bedroom floor.

He chuckled. "What is this?"

"It's exactly what you think it is."

"We haven't made a fort since we were in middle school." He commented.

"Exactly! I thought it would be fun if we did something we hadn't done in a while. You know, for old times' sake."

"Ah. That's why you requested I get specific snacks."

"It is. This'll be fun, don't you think?"

"Yeah." A grin pulled at his soft lips. "Where should we start?"

"We could play some board games or card games." You suggested.

"Fine with me. I hope you're ready to get your butt kicked."

"You wish." You scoffed.

Minutes later, the two of you were sitting inside the fort going head-to-head in an intense game of Uno.

"Your turn." Jongho looked at you expectantly.

You quirked a brow, glancing down at your arsenal of cards, index finger hovering over them for a few seconds before pulling one out.

"Draw four." You announced, setting the card onto the stack. "Also I change the color to green."

"Are you kidding me?" He groaned, pushing his red hair back with a sigh.

"Face it, Choi, you won't win this one."

He let out a huff, begrudgingly drawing four cards, a sour look plastered on his face. He glanced down at the stack and placed a green card with the number two on it on top.

In turn, you set down a number two card on the stack, but this time it was a red card. Jongho chewed his lip as he peered at the cards in his hand. Grabbing one of them, he tossed it on the unruly stack. You went back and forth for a while until you had one card left.

"Uno!" You exclaimed.

"Nooo." Jongho groaned. "I don't want you to win."

"Too bad because I'm about to." You teased, unable to stop the triumphant grin that tugged at the edges of your lips. Victory was so close you could almost taste it.

He dropped his head, letting out a sigh as he placed a card onto the stack, looking deflated. It was only when he pulled his hand back that you saw what he had put down.

"Draw four." He announced, looking up at you with a sly smirk.

"You're sneaky." You shook your head, reluctantly drawing four cards.

After a few more tense minutes, Jongho had managed to get the upper hand and win the game, flipping the tables completely.

"Yes! I am the Uno champion!" He cheered, his fists held high in victory, well, as high as the blanket ceiling would allow.

You watched him with a straight face waiting for him to finish. Just when you thought he was done, he stepped out of the blanket fort and started doing a celebratory dance, wiggling his butt and sticking his tongue out at you.

"Real mature." You rolled your eyes, suppressing a grin.

This only egged him on and made him rub his win in your face even more.

"I'll beat you next time. That's a promise." You pointed.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved his hand dismissively, crawling back into the fort before grabbing a few potato chips from the open bag of snacks and popping them into his mouth.

"Let's play another game." You suggested.

"Like what?"

"How about Clue?"

"Oh, Y/n." He frowned. "You know your deductive skills suck."

"They do not!" You defended, lightly smacking his arm.

"Last time we played Clue you lost." He pointed out.

"Fine. No Clue."

Jongho turned to the convenience store bag that had been discarded on a pile of pillows scattered about the floor of the blanket fort.

"You want some snacks?" He asked reaching for the bag.

"Sure. I was so caught up in that intense Uno game, I forgot all about the snacks. Hand me the (favorite snack)."

"Think fast." Jongho tossed it over to you.

"Thank you." You sang happily, ripping the package open. "So, any ideas on what activity to do next?"

"We could play video games? Or maybe we can play spin the bottle?"

"Spin the bottle?" You echoed with a snort.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I have a better idea. Let's look up a truth or dare generator. It's gotta have really really good dares on it."

"Alright." Jongho grinned, accepting the challenge. "Let's hope you don't chicken out when you get a dare that's too intense."

"Please." You rolled your eyes. "That won't be happening."

After some searching, you were successfully able to find a decent truth or dare generator and kicked off the game.

"Alright." You rubbed your hands together in anticipation. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Wuss." You coughed.

"Hey. I'm just starting off slow." He spoke defensively.

"Okay, fine." You tapped the truth icon on your phone screen, a randomly generated question popping up after.

"If there was one thing you could redo, what would it be?"

"Hm." He chewed his lip. "I would be more honest I think."

"Is there something you're hiding, Jongho?" You teased.

"That's not part of the game, Y/n. I already answered my question."

"Alright fine." You handed the phone to him.

"Y/n. Truth or dare?" He questioned.

You raised a brow. "Dare."

Jongho grinned mischievously, tapping the dare button only for his shoulders to slump immediately upon reading the screen.

"Aw. This one is lame." He frowned.

"What is it?"

"It says smell the shoes of the person sitting beside you."

"You're right. That one is lame, but I'll do it."

"Have fun." Jongho grabbed his shoe, tossing it over. "I want you to take a big whiff."

You did as he said, surprised to find that his shoes didn't smell too bad.

The both of took a few more turns asking the questions back and forth. You ended up picking truth for some of them, to which you earned a few snide remarks from Jongho, but you didn't care.

"Alright, Y/n. You've been choosing truth these past few rounds. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." You answered confidently, deciding it was time to switch things up.

He pressed the button on your phone and a random dare popped up on the screen.

"Let the person beside you make you as uncomfortable as they can."

Your face dropped after he read it. "That's not a dare, that's a punishment." You huffed.

"Are you trying to say you can't handle it?" Jongho challenged.

"No. I can handle it."

"We'll see about that." He moved close to you with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

You watched him while he slowly inched forward, his face nearing yours. The closer he got the more you could feel yourself beginning to get nervous. If you didn't have a fat crush on him this would be a piece of cake.

Jongho's eyes wandered over your features as his face neared your own, getting so dangerously close it made your heart jump into your throat. The musky scent of his cologne reached your senses, putting you in a sort of fog that partially clouded your mind. You could now feel the warmth radiating off his body as his lips neared your cheek. You weren't sure what exactly he was going do. Part of you thought he might actually try and kiss you, the thought alone sent butterflies into your stomach. Just when you thought his lips were about to touch your cheek, you felt them brush your ear. You shivered a bit in response, earning a breathy chuckle from Jongho which only made things worse.

"You ready to give up?" He whispered, his voice low, sending a chill down your spine.

You could feel yourself starting to slip, your resolve slowly crumbling. You turned your head without thinking, your lips just barely brushing past each other, this causing you both to pull away in surprise.

You clamped your hand over your mouth, your cheeks set ablaze almost instantly. Jongho seemed just as flustered, seeing as his ears were the same color as his hair. You pulled your hand away, your mouth opening to say something. Jongho quickly cleared his throat before you could speak.

"Let's watch a movie. I'll go pick one." He blurted quickly, standing up and hurrying out of the room.

You let out a sigh, falling back onto the pillows and blankets scattered along the floor of the fort, your face feeling hotter than ever.

Stupid. Stupid. You scolded yourself. Why did I have to move my head? That made the whole situation even more awkward.

It took a while for Jongho to return to your room and you honestly can't blame him.

"I wasn't sure what to choose so I brought back three movies." He stated.

"Oh. That's a good idea."

He laid the movies out on the floor, allowing you to look over them.

"How about this one?" You pointed to the romance movie.

"I figured." Jongho teased, the awkward tension looming in the air had now seemingly disappeared.

"What? You don't wanna watch it?"

"No, we'll watch it."

You sat on the edge of the couch, leaning towards the TV with anticipation. The movie was almost over and the two love interests were finally about to kiss. The man reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind the girl's ear, his face moving closer to hers. The anticipation was killing you, so much so that you were ready to exclaim, "Kiss already!" When their lips finally touched, an excited squeal escaped your mouth as you clapped gleefully, gushing about how adorable the two were. Jongho let out a short chuckle, a smirk tugging at his soft lips.

"What?"

"You've always been a sap for that kinda stuff." He commented.

"So?" You shot back.

"Nothing." He shook his head, holding back a grin.

The rest of the night went fairly smoothly and was free of any more embarrassing moments. Jongho hung out for a while after the movie was over and ended up leaving your place around midnight. You thought it would be awkward since you had almost kissed earlier, but he seemed to brush it off rather quickly, which you were extremely thankful for.

As you laid in bed that night trying to go to sleep, you couldn't stop imagining what happened earlier between you and your best friend.

What if you really did kiss? You wondered.

Just the thought made your cheeks get hot. You hurriedly shook your head in an attempt to shoo away any thoughts of Jongho, but it didn't really do much good. You just couldn't seem to tear your mind away from him.

It had been a week since you last saw Jongho. The lack of contact from him was making you wonder if he was avoiding you. You reached over, retrieving your phone from the nightstand and opened your messaging app. You tapped on Jongho's name, your previous texts still saved in the chat. Your fingers hovered over the keypad before you hesitantly typed out a new message.

You

Hey, it's been a while

What have you been up to?

"No." You murmured, quickly backspacing, deleting the whole message and typing it again.

You

Wanna hang out?

Too forward. Once again, you pressed backspace.

You

Are you busy?

You pressed the send button before you could overthink anything, your heart jumping anxiously in your chest as you did so. You found yourself staring at the screen, waiting for that little delivered to change to read. It never did.

Maybe he's wasn't near his phone at the moment or maybe he had his phone on silent. Or maybe he really was avoiding you.

You sighed in frustration, dropping your head onto your pillow while releasing a groan.

Suddenly, an idea popped into you head. You pushed yourself up off the bed and started getting ready, eager to put your plan into motion.

Within an hour, you were standing in front of Jongho's house, pizza in hand. You decided that instead of waiting for him to answer your text, you would just surprise him at his place. Yes, maybe it was a little impatient on your part, but in case he was avoiding you because of what happened, you wanted to show him that things were all good between the both of you. Plus, pizza was one of his favorite foods, so there's no way he would say no to it. You pulled out the spare key Jongho had given to you a couple years back and wiggled it into the lock, opening the front door and shuffling inside. You kept the key on its own key ring with a red gummy bear keychain on it so you knew whose house key it was. You remember the day you showed it to Jongho. He had laughed, asking why a gummy bear keychain. You responded and told him when you spotted the keychain it made you think of him. You smiled fondly at the memory, making sure to put his key back into your bag as you kicked the door closed with your foot.

"Jongho?" You called out.

No answer.

"I hope you don't mind my stopping by so suddenly. I wanted to surprise you." You announced, stepping through his house.

It was rather quiet. You wondered if maybe he wasn't home. Just as the thought crossed your mind, you spotted his phone sitting idly on the coffee table in the living room. Your brows pulled together in mild concern.

"Hello?"

Still no response.

"I brought pizza."

Again, nothing.

As you neared the kitchen area you heard splashing, your face relaxed, a faint smile spreading across your lips. He was just swimming.

You set the pizza down on the kitchen counter as you neared the back door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

"I didn't know you were back here. Sorry for barging in. I brought-" The sight before you made both your feet and your sentence come to an abrupt halt.

Jongho was in the pool alright, but trailing behind him where his legs should be was a deep, maroon-colored tail.

"Jongho?" You spoke out, your throat suddenly dry as you took slow steps towards the pool, hoping your knees wouldn't give out before you made it over there.

"Y/n!" He jumped. "It's not what it looks like." He swam over to the edge of the pool with a panicked look on his face.

"I think it's exactly what it looks like." You muttered, sitting down at the pool's edge.

He had a tail.

You could have just dismissed it as a slip-on mermaid tail, but it looked too real to be one of those silicone ones—way too real.

"Please don't tell anyone." He blurted, a look of worry etched onto his handsome features, his brown eyes wide with panic.

You frowned. "Who says I'm gonna tell anyone?"

"I just... don't want anyone to know."

"I would never." You assured him, your eyes staying glued to his tail as it flicked back and forth in the water.

"Are you not weirded out?"

"No, but I'm a bit surprised... very surprised, actually." You blinked, still unable to believe what you were seeing.

He let out a sigh. "I know."

"How long have you been like this?" You questioned.

"My whole life."

You took in a deep breath, turning your head away from him before muttering, "You never said anything to me."

"I know." He muttered. "I was scared. I didn't know how you would react."

Now that the truth was out, it all started to make sense. When the two of you were younger, in middle school, your family took a trip to the beach one day. When you invited Jongho, his parents said they had plans already. Come to think of it, they did that every time you invited Jongho to any event that had water involved.

"We've always lived pretty far from the beach. How have you managed to make it all this time? Do you not need to be in water?"

"Not necessarily. I do get withdrawals sometimes, but swimming in the pool usually helps." He smiled softly.

"I really wish you would have told me sooner."

"I know. I'm sor-"

"This is so cool!" You blurted excitedly.

Jongho's eyes widened. "Cool? You think so?"

"Yes! My best friend is a merman. How is that not cool?"

An adorable giggle escaped his lips, that endearing and heartwarming gummy smile plastered on his face.

"How did your parents get here? On land I mean. Tell me everything."

"They lived in the ocean, but they wanted a life on land, so that's what they did."

"So you've lived out of the water your whole life?"

He nodded. "We would take yearly trips to the ocean, though. I got to visit my grandparents and other family members. It was so cool. It's different down there than it is here on land."

You smiled softly while you listened to him tell you about his childhood and it was like below the surface.

At some point, he pushed himself out of the water and took a seat beside you. Your gaze immediately turned to his merman tail that seemed to sparkle even more up close, the sunlight making the color stand out more. Your eyes then drifted to Jongho's exposed abdomen, the rare sight making your cheeks warm.

"When I met you in middle school and we got closer, I wanted to tell you about everything but I was scared. I heard so many stories from my parents about how humans can't always be trusted." He spoke.

You nodded as you processed his words, trying to imagine yourself in his situation. You could understand why he was hesitant to let you in on his big secret and also why he seemed so scared when you caught him out here.

"Again, Y/n, I'm really really sorry you had to find out like this."

"No." You shook your head. "It's fine. I completely understand."

"You do?"

"Of course. You were just being careful." You smiled warmly. "And since we're telling secrets, I have one of my own."

Jongho's sharp brows raised in both surprise and interest. "You do?"

"I do." You discreetly clasped your hands together to stop them from shaking.

You didn't know what it was that gave you the confidence to confess, maybe it's because Jongho being a merman seemed to be a much bigger deal than your crush on him. You couldn't be too sure, but one thing you knew for certain is if you started thinking about it too much, you'll find reasons to back out and that couldn't happen.

"I've had a crush on you since we were in middle school." You blurted quickly, afraid that if you waited a moment longer you would have lost your courage and chickened out.

Jongho's eyes widened. "Since middle school?"

You nodded in affirmation.

"Even now? Even after you found out what I really am?"

You nodded again.

His hand moved to yours, which were still clasped together. Pulling one of your hands away, he grabbed hold of it, his fingers curling around yours and giving them a light squeeze.

"I feel the same way about you." He spoke, his cheeks dusted with pink.

Your jaw nearly dropped to the ground. "So you weren't avoiding me this past week?"

"Avoiding you?"

"Yeah. Because of... you know." Your voice got quiet. "The truth or dare game and how that ended."

Jongho's eyes widened slightly, the pink in his cheeks getting deeper as the image of the both of you almost kissing flashed in his mind.

"Not at all. Truth is, I was texting while swimming earlier this week and I dropped my phone in the pool." He sighed, lowering his head in embarrassment. "It's totally broken. I tired the rice trick and everything."

You let out a soft laugh. Of course he wasn't avoiding you. How could you ever think that?

"You know, you should try getting a waterproof phone next time."

"Don't worry, I will." He assured you with a small grin. "I've learned my lesson."

The air between the both of you went silent for a few moments until you spoke up, bringing your conversation back on track.

"I can't believe you feel the same as I do. You did a good job of hiding it." You chuckled.

"So did you." He shot back, nudging you softly. "Up until now, I was under the impression that you only saw me as a friend."

"Really? Either I'm much better at hiding my feelings than I thought, or you're really dense."

Jongho's mouth dropped open, an offended expression on his face. You burst out into hysterical laughter, dropping your head onto Jongho's shoulder to keep yourself from falling over.

"It's not funny." Jongho whined, shoving you off him.

He pushed you away a bit too hard causing you to fall backwards. Jongho reached out to grab your arm in an attempt to stop your back from hitting the concrete. It all happened so fast. Instead of bringing you back into a sitting position, Jongho got pulled down with you, landing partially on top of you with a grunt.

"Sorry." You squeaked, looking up at him with wide eyes, hoping he couldn't feel the way your heart was beating like crazy.

Jongho's gaze softened, his dark brown irises drifting towards your lips moments before he started closing the space between your faces. Your eyelids fluttered closed just as his soft lips touched yours. You welcomed the feeling and immediately moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your heart was racing like crazy, but you didn't want to stop. This was a dream come true, something that you never thought would be happening and now that it was, you wanted to savor the moment and take all you could get.

Jongho's soft, plush lips encased yours as he softly tugged on your bottom lip, pulling away for a moment only to go right back in with more force. You felt dizzy as Jongho continued his assault on your lips, his kisses getting heated, more desperate. It felt like he was letting out everything he had been holding back and you loved it. Your arms slowly made their way around his shoulders as you tilted your head to the side so your mouths fit closer together, deepening the kiss. He hummed lowly against your lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jaw.

Jongho kept his lips attached to yours for a few more seconds until he pulled away, his cheeks flushed and eyes clouded with passion.

"That was... insane." You huffed, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry."

"No, no. It was really good." You let out a breathy chuckle.

"Maybe we can do it again later." He smirked, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

"Is that an invitation to stay?"

"Only if you want to." He grinned.

"I brought pizza, you know?"

"You did?" He sat up, his eyes wide.

"Yeah. I didn't get to finish what I was saying earlier. I brought pizza for us."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go eat. I'm starving." Jongho tried to get up only to realize he couldn't.

You got to your feet, glancing down at Jongho whose tail was still partially in the pool. You couldn't help but let out a string of chuckles.

"Don't laugh." He frowned. "Help me."

You reached out, grabbing hold of his arms and pulling him further away from the pool's edge until his tail was out out of the water, shifting back to a pair of legs right before your eyes.

"Woah." You murmured. "I'm gonna have to get used to that."

"Cool, right? I only sprout fins when I'm in water that goes to my knees." He explained as he got to his feet.

"Nice swimming trunks." You teased, referring to his bright, highlighter yellow bottoms.

"Shut up." He muttered, a smile playing at his lips. "Let's just go inside and eat that pizza before it gets cold."

Hongjoong 𓇼 Seonghwa 𓇼 Yunho 𓇼 Yeosang 𓇼 San 𓇼 Mingi 𓇼 Wooyoung

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ Heyy, advance happy halloween (or happy halloween if it’s already that time in your zone)!! I’m not sure if I’ll be active tomorrow since I'll be out (guys have fun too😭) — but anyways!! thank you so much for all the love and support lately. I had so much fun doing kinktober this year. I hope you enjoy this one!! I also wanted to thank @svthub nothing I really am just happy to be part of it and everyone for being so welcoming and nice!!

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“Welcome to the necessary weekly meeting!” Soonyoung announced dramatically, arms wide as you walked into Jihoon’s condo. Jihoon, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a laptop and a frown, didn’t even look up. “It’s literally just us hanging out because you two can’t function without supervision.”

“Exactly!” Soonyoung grinned, patting the seat beside him. “Necessary.” You dropped your bag on the couch, laptop under your arm, and sighed. “If this is a meeting, I’d like to file a complaint. My wi-fi’s been dead for three hours.”

Jihoon groaned. “Oh no.” Soonyoung perked up. “Don’t-” But you were already reaching for your phone. “I think I’ll just call-” “Don’t say it,” Jihoon warned.

“-tech support,” you finished innocently.

Soonyoung threw a pillow at you. “You don’t need tech support for everything! Last time your charger wasn’t even plugged in!” “It was plugged in,” you argued. “Just.. not all the way.” Jihoon muttered, “You’re single-handedly keeping that hotline employed.”

“They’re nice people!” You defended yourself, booting up your laptop. “Besides, they actually help instead of mocking me.” “Oh please,” Soonyoung teased, leaning closer. “Just say you have a voice fetish”

“I do not?!”

Jihoon snorted. “Your face says otherwise.” You huffed, glaring at both of them. “You’re just jealous because no one picks up when you call for help.” “Yeah, because we don’t break technology by existing,” Jihoon shot back.

The argument went in circles until Jihoon ordered takeout just to shut both of you up. When it arrived, everyone ended up sprawled in front of the TV, eating noodles and teasing each other between bites.

By the time you headed home, Soonyoung made you promise — hands clasped together dramatically — “Don’t. Call. Tech support. Tonight.” You rolled your eyes. “If you just helped me with my problem-” “I can’t help you, Y/N.. I have my own problems,” he said, feigning exhaustion. “You’re so dramatic.” “Just promise.”

“Ok.. ok jeez I promise not to call them.”

You did.

When you got home, your apartment felt unusually quiet. Too quiet. You dropped your keys, kicked off your shoes, and flopped onto your bed, staring at your laptop like it was your sworn enemy. The wi-fi symbol blinked mockingly at you. Still dead. You worked at Jihoon's. What's wrong with you?!

You tried everything: restarted, reconnected, even whispered, “Please work, I’m begging you,” like it owed you emotional support. Still nothing.

Soonyoung’s voice echoed in your head — Don’t call tech support tonight. You sighed, staring at your phone. He didn’t have to know. “Just one call,” you muttered, already pressing the number.

Beep. Beep.

You leaned back, half-asleep, bracing for the hold music and robotic voice menu. Then.. “Good evening, this is Jeon Wonwoo from customer support. How can I help you tonight?”

You were stunned.

God damn the voice.

Low, calm, a little tired but velvety — the kind of voice that could make tax advice sound seductive. “Oh. U- Hi,” you managed, blinking at the ceiling. “My laptop refuses to connect to the wi-fi. It’s being dramatic.”

A small laugh slipped through the line. “Let’s see what we can do. Are you sure it’s your wi-fi and not your laptop? Have you tried connecting it to another network?” “Positive,” you said confidently. “I’m very tech-savvy.” “ok..,” he said, amused. “Can you check your network list? What do you see?”

You peered at your screen. “Uhm-” You frowned. “I don’t see my wi-fi name. Just.. my neighbour’s? And something called ‘NETGEAR32’..what the fuck is this?” You whispered the last sentence, but figured he heard it, the way he laughed on the other line. Wah! The laugh is even hotter.

“Hmm. Could you tell me what your router looks like?” “It’s that little black box with the blinking lights, right?” “Yes,” he said slowly. “Where is it?” You turned your head toward your bedside table. “It’s right here. Wait..” you reached out and realised it wasn’t blinking at all. Just off.

You picked it up and froze. “Oh my god.” “What’s wrong?” “It’s- ahm.. uh- huh” you coughed. “It’s not plugged in. Because I moved it earlier so I could vacuum.” There was a pause. Then his voice came through again, thick with restrained laughter.

“You vacuumed your wi-fi?” “Don’t say it like that,” you protested, cheeks burning. “It sounded responsible at the time!” He chuckled — a low, genuine sound that made your stomach twist. “You’re the first caller I’ve had tonight who turned off their wi-fi for cleaning purposes.”

“See? I’m helping the world one spotless floor at a time.” “Sure,” he said. “Totally not creating your own emergencies.” You pouted even though he couldn’t see you. “You’re judging me.” “I’m observing,” he teased. “With admiration.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re rude. But also kind of charming.” “That’s a first,” he said softly, and you could hear his smile through the line.

The wi-fi reconnected instantly once you plugged it back in, but neither of you hung up. At one point, he asked, “So do you always call tech support after vacuuming?”

“Only when I make life decisions that backfire,” you said. “Which is often.” “Good to know,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Guess I should keep my line open then.” Fucking voice.. fucking hellllll- this is testing me.

You laughed, heart racing a little too fast for a call that started with a wi-fi crisis. When the line finally went quiet, you didn’t move for a while. Your wi-fi was back.

But you had a new problem

you couldn’t stop replaying his voice in your head.

“Believe me, Soonyoung, the voice. I just know he looks hot.” You were sprawled across your couch, phone on speaker, while Soonyoung sat at the edge of the coffee table, eating crisps and giving you a look that screamed disbelief.

“There are literally thousands of tech support agents, Y/N,” he said, crunching loudly. “How confident are you that you’re even gonna get-”

“Good evening,” the speaker crackled, and that low, familiar voice filled the room. “This is Jeon Wonwoo from customer support. How can I help you tonight?” Soonyoung froze mid-bite. Then he mouthed, damn.

You grinned, triumphant. “Hi,” you said, trying not to sound too excited. There was a pause — and then, that voice again, soft and amused “You again?” Soonyoung slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh.

You cleared your throat, pretending to be professional. “Yes, me again. I, um.. I think my keyboard’s stuck.” Soonyoung buried his face in a pillow. Stuck? Really? he mouthed, horrified. You whispered back, “What?! That’s the only thing I could think of!”

Wonwoo must’ve heard the shuffling because he asked, “Keyboard stuck how?” You blinked at your laptop. “Like- it’s not typing?” “Did you check if it’s connected properly?” You poked at the keys. “Yes?” “Okay. Is it wireless?” You squinted. “I mean it doesn’t have a wire.”

Soonyoung groaned into the pillow. “Alright,” Wonwoo said, patient as ever. “Can you check the little switch under it? It might be turned off.” You flipped it over. The red light was off.

“Oh.”

“Found the problem?” he asked, amusement dripping through the line. “..Possibly,” you admitted, turning it back on. Soonyoung whispered, “You’re gonna die alone.” “Don’t be jealous,” you muttered back.

“What was that?” Wonwoo asked, still smiling through his words. “Nothing! I, uh, I fixed it. You’re a genius.” “I do my best,” he said modestly. “Though you might be setting a record for repeat callers this week.”

You snorted. “Oh come on, I’m not that bad.” “I didn’t say bad,” he teased. “Just dedicated.” Soonyoung mouthed, oh my god he’s flirting. You kicked him under the table. “Well,” you said lightly, leaning back. “Thank you again for your very professional assistance, Mr. Wonwoo.”

“My pleasure,” he said smoothly. “But I should tell you — you’re gonna get me fired if you keep calling this much.” You grinned. “Then I’ll have to find another HOTline to talk with.” That made him grin — a low, surprised sound that sent goosebumps up your neck.

Before he could say anything else, you hung up, giggling, tossing your phone onto the couch like it was on fire. Soonyoung stared at you, jaw dropped. “You did not just hang up on him after saying that.”

“I did,” you said proudly, hugging a pillow. “You’re insane.” “I think I’m in love with his voice,” you ignored him. “Yeah.. definitely insane.” Soonyoung groaned, throwing himself back dramatically. “Jihoon’s never gonna believe this.”

Meetings were bad enough on their own.

Delayed meetings, however, were a special kind of torture.

You sat in the conference room with your coworkers, nursing your second cup of terrible coffee while everyone complained about the same thing.. the company’s internal program being down.

“This is the third time this week,” Hansol muttered beside you, spinning his pen like he was auditioning for a stress commercial. “Didn’t the IT promise to fix this permanently?” You sighed, leaning back. “Apparently the main IT guy’s out of town. They’re sending someone else from the other branch.”

“God,” Hansol groaned. “If this takes longer, I’m fake fainting just to go home early.” A few desks away, someone joked, “Maybe we should just call tech support!” Hansol smirked and nudged you. “Hey, that’s your thing, right?” You gave him a look. “Shut up.”

Before he could tease you again, the conference room door swung open. “Sorry for the delay,” a deep, calm voice said. “I’m from the external IT department — I’ll be fixing the system today.”

You froze.

No way.

The pen slipped from your hand. Hansol glanced at you, confused, as you slowly turned toward the door. And there he was.

Jeon Wonwoo, in the flesh.

Tall. Dressed in an office lanyard, white button-down shirt, rolled-up sleeves, soft eyes framed by dark-rimmed glasses. The same low, polite tone — the same one that had once asked, You again? through your phone speaker.

He didn’t even look in your direction, busy setting his laptop bag down near the projector. But you were already spiraling. Hansol whispered, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You grabbed his sleeve, dragging him closer, whispering, “That’s him.”

“Who-” “Tech support voice guy.”

Hansol blinked. Then his eyes widened. “No way.” “Way,” you hissed. “Oh my god, he’s real. He’s here. I’ve literally flirted with him over my wi-fi and fake keyboard issues.”

Hansol’s face twisted between amusement and disbelief. “You’re kidding. The guy you said had a voice that could fix your life? That’s him?” “Shut up,” you whispered harshly, elbowing him as quietly as possible.

But of course, Wonwoo glanced up right at that moment — and his eyes landed on the two of you whispering near the door.

You panicked and pretended to cough. Hansol, because he loved chaos, gave you the most suspiciously innocent smile possible. Wonwoo tilted his head slightly. Then, with that same even tone, said, “Sorry, could someone show me where the main server is located?”

Hansol grinned, standing immediately. “Y/N can show you.” Your head whipped toward him. “I- what?!” “She’s great with.. tech support,” Hansol said, barely holding back laughter.

You shot him a death glare before plastering on the fakest smile known to man. “Right. The server. Of course.” You led the way down the hallway, pulse hammering, mentally screaming the entire time. Behind you, you could hear the faint sound of Wonwoo’s footsteps — steady, unbothered.

And when he finally spoke, the air shifted. “You work here?” he asked casually. You swallowed. “..Apparently.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he replied, “Guess I should’ve known. You sound familiar.”

Your brain short-circuited. Does he recognise me?! IS THAT POSSIBLE?? Fuckk! Oh my- do I even look good today?! You laughed a little too quickly. “Do I?”

He hummed softly. “Yeah. Can’t quite place it though. Maybe I’m wrong.” Good. Keep it that way. You stopped by the room, pushing the door open and praying your soul wouldn’t just exit your body on the spot.

“Here it is,” you said, stepping aside. “The, uh.. problematic area.” Wonwoo smiled faintly — professional, polite — but something about it made your heart stutter anyway. “Thanks.”

You nodded, pretending to check your phone just to avoid melting under his presence. Hansol’s text popped up almost immediately

Hansolie: 👀 sooooooo how’s ur ‘wifi’?

You typed back furiously while walking back to the conference room.

Y/N: shut. up. hansol.

—

The elevator doors slid open to the scent of roasted beans and caramel syrup — the unofficial perfume of your company’s lobby. You needed caffeine. And possibly divine intervention. After all, you’d just spent the entire morning trying not to think about your crush slash former tech support.

“Hey, Y/N!” the barista chirped as you reached the counter. “The usual?” You nodded, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, but can you, like.. make it extra strong today? Emotionally and spiritually?”

He laughed. “Got it. Double shot, emotional damage edition.” “Perfect,” you sighed. “Oh, and can you add a little cinnamon instead of cocoa powder this time?” “Got you.” He scribbled the note on your cup. You stepped aside to wait — and that’s when you heard it.

“Can I get a flat white, please?”

That voice.

You turned, and there he was — standing just a few feet away at the other end of the counter, sleeves still rolled up, work lanyard hanging loose around his neck. Wonwoo.

He looked effortlessly calm, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone while he thanked the barista with that same low tone that made you weak in the knees.

You blinked, heart stuttering. “Oh,” you blurted before your brain caught up. “You- uh.. coffee?”

Smooth. Very eloquent.

Wonwoo glanced up, a little confused. “Me.. coffee,” he echoed, lips curving. You wanted to melt straight into the tile floor. “Hi,” you said, trying to be casual. “Again.”

“Hi,” he returned, equally casual. His voice softened. “You on break?” “Yeah, trying to survive another meeting that could’ve been an email,” you joked. “You?” “Running system checks upstairs. Thought I’d double check whether the server is plugged before your company crashes again.”

You gasped in mock offense, not fully understanding what he meant. “Hey! It wasn’t my fault this time.” He chuckled, stepping closer as the barista called both your names. You picked up your drink at the same time he reached for his — your fingers brushed for half a second.

And you definitely felt that.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, gripping your cup a little too tight. He tilted his head, smiling teasingly. “So.. how’s your technology lately?” You froze. “What-”

“That wi-fi working fine?” he asked innocently, sipping his coffee. “Keyboard behaving?” Suddenly your jaw could hit the floor.. hiding your face with your hand. “Oh my god. You know it’s me.” “I just figured it out after you showed me the room earlier,” he admitted, smirking. “You have a very.. recognizable voice.”

Oh yeah..? and you have a hella attractive voice.

“Great,” you muttered. “So now the tech guy knows ‘the girl who vacuumed her wi-fi’s’ work address..” He laughed quietly. “Could’ve been worse.” “I was trying to clean responsibly!” you protested, half laughing, half dying inside.

He leaned a little closer, eyes glinting with amusement. “You really do make my job interesting, you know that?” You tried not to look at his mouth when he smiled like that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “It is,” he said easily.

For a second, neither of you said anything — the buzz of the lobby filling the space between you. Then your phone buzzed with a message from Hansol

Hansolie: boss asking where u r 👀

You sighed. “Duty calls.” Wonwoo held up his cup. “Same here.” You both started toward the elevators, walking side by side until the hall split. “Guess I’ll see you around, I’ll be the IT for weeks, fortunately.” he said.

You grinned, stepping backward. “Fortunately?” He smirked, tone low and teasing. “Yeah.. this time, you don’t have to press any keys to talk to me.” You turned away, trying not to smile too hard — and totally failed.

It’s been a week.

A very long, very confusing week.

Because somehow, ever since that coffee encounter, your team and the IT team have been glued together. Every project update? They’re there. Every department sync? They’re in the room. Every “quick check on the system”? It’s him.

You tried to act normal — really, you did — but it was hard to stay composed when his voice kept floating across the room. Smooth, professional, occasionally teasing when he’d call out, “Y/N, can you test the connection for me?” Yeah. Connection. Sure.

And of course, Hansol noticed. He noticed how you’d suddenly straighten in your chair whenever Wonwoo spoke, how you’d take exactly 0.5 seconds too long to respond. “You’re down bad,” he whispered during one meeting, and you kicked him under the table hard enough to rattle his pen.

Even worse, Wonwoo didn’t seem fazed by any of it. He’d walk past your desk with that tiny, unreadable smile — the kind that made your brain lag. He’d drop by for “routine checks,” which, suspiciously, only seemed necessary near your cubicle.

By Friday, your nerves were shot. You’d memorised the sound of his footsteps, the shape of his laugh, and the way he said your name like it was something erotic. Or maybe that’s just me who’s thinking that..

You weren’t sure which was worse — that he might notice, or that he already had.

—

You’d left the office hours ago, but Wonwoo’s voice lingered in your mind like a ghost. Back in your apartment, you changed into comfortable clothes — an oversized shirt and didn’t even bother to put on some shorts. You poured yourself a glass of wine, settling on the couch with your laptop, trying to focus on a show. But your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

His smile, his laugh, the way his hair fell across his forehead. You remembered the sound of his voice, the way it echoed through the empty office, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You took a sip of your wine, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. This is ridiculous. Is the aircon even on?!

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling a warmth spread through you. You couldn’t believe you were getting turned on just by thinking about his voice. You felt embarrassed, foolish even. But the warmth didn’t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, pooling between your legs.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered to yourself, but your hand was already sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear. You weren’t even touching yourself yet, just pressing your palm against your core through the fabric. “I’m getting horny over someone’s voice..?”

Just say you have a voice fetish — Soonyoung’s voice suddenly echoing in your head that made you feel an overwhelming rush of embarrassment and arousal. You pushed your underwear to the side and slipped a finger inside yourself, that deep voice. “Fuck..”

Slowly pushing it in and out as you imagined Wonwoo’s voice whispering dirty things in your ear. Your other hand reached up to pinch your nipple through your shirt, twisting it gently. You were getting wetter by the second, all from thinking about a man’s voice.

Your mind started playing tricks on you. You pictured his long fingers as he fast-typed on a keyboard. You bit your lip, moaning softly. “God,” you whimpered. Your hips lifted slightly, pushing your finger deeper, thinking it was Wonwoo who was finger-fucking her.

One finger wasn’t enough. You needed more stimulation, more pressure. You cursed under your breath, frustrated that your own hand wasn’t enough to get you off when just thinking about Wonwoo’s voice had you soaking wet. “Damn it..”

—

I stopped moving my finger, my heart racing as reality crashed back in. What the actual fuck was wrong with me..? Getting turned on over a voice?! What the hell. Over Wonwoo’s voice specifically??! Ughh god.. I quickly pulled my finger.

“Maybe I should..” my heart raced at the thought. “Hmm.. should I?” I don’t know what to do. But I’m burning and it hurts already, I need to get by.

This is insane. “No. I won’t do it,” but the thought only lingered on me and I’m going crazy. This is desperate.. yet also fucking hot.

My fingers trembled as I slowly dialed a number.. his number. Each digit felt like a step closer to crossing a line I wasn’t sure I could uncross. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Fuck.. fuck.. fuck! My heart is pounding so much and my free hand is already sliding back into my underwear.. ok maybe I’m not that good of a person- but I need this! I’m gonna go nuts!

—

“Hello?” His deep, husky voice came through the phone, sending a jolt straight to your core. You let out a shaky breath, your finger now slowly circling your clit as you held the phone between your shoulder and ear. “Hi..” You whispered, already lost.

“Hey,” he said softly, unknowingly pushing you further towards the edge. “Everything ok?” He asked, you could hear the concern in his voice. Your hips lifted slightly, pushing your finger inside your clit. “Mhm,”

“You sound distracted.” He paused, you could hear him moving around. “Where are you? I can barely hear you.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. You were silent for a moment, your finger moving faster. “I'm.. in bed,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Wonwoo hummed, “It's late. You sleeping?” You bit your lip, debating whether to tell the truth. “No,” you admitted quietly, your hand moving frantically now, your legs spreading wider. Wonwoo’s voice was just too good, too enticing.

“What are you doing then?” He asked, suddenly curious. His voice dropped lower, unaware that he was talking to a woman on the verge of orgasm on the phone. “Because- I’m alone," you confessed, your breath hitching as your finger rubbed faster.

“Aw, are you bored?” He asked gently. “Kind of-” You whispered, your other hand squeezing your breast through your shirt. “Need someone to talk to?” He offered, making small talk while you edged closer to coming.

“Actually- hmm” You started, then bit your lip hard to stop yourself from moaning. Your finger was slowly pressing onto your G-spot, your thumb circling your clit exactly how you liked. “Yeah?” Wonwoo encouraged conversationally, “What is it, Y/N?”

“Nothin- ahh.. mhmm” You whispered quickly, trying to hide the fact that you were about to cum hard on the phone with him. “Just- just thinking about stuff.” Your legs were shaking now, your hips moving in time with your hand. “Like what?” He asked, genuinely interested.

“Stupid stuff..” You breathed softly. “Like.. Like-” You trailed off, getting closer. “Yeah?” He chuckled, unknowingly pushing you towards your orgasm with his deep voice. “Random stuff” You moaned softly, then covered your mouth quickly.

He hummed on the other line, pressing, “Random stuff like..? Y/N.. are you ok?” You were so close now, your hand moving desperately. “Shit-!” You whimpered into the phone, your body tensing up as you came hard, silence filling the line except for your quick pants.

You quickly ended the call, your cheeks burning red as you tried to catch your breath. You cursed yourself, throwing your phone aside and collapsing back onto your bed. “What the fuck did I just do?” You hissed at yourself, feeling both embarrassed and satisfied from that crazy spontaneous orgasm.

He didn’t catch me right..?

—

He looked at his phone, a slow smirk spreading across his face. The call ended abruptly, and he knew exactly why. His mind filled with images of you touching yourself to his voice, coming undone alone in your room. He chuckled lowly to himself, getting hard.

“Y/N L/N, what are you even planning to do?”

He said, dragging a hand over his face, clearly flustered and unsure of what to do next. No.. correction, he is sure of what he’s gonna do that night.

The week after Wonwoo’s temporary contract with her company ended felt weirdly quiet. No passing glances in the hallway, no low voice echoing across the conference room, no reason to hang around the break area pretending you needed another coffee.

Work picked up, deadlines piled, and life moved — or at least pretended to. You told yourself it was fine. Totally fine. People came and went, right? He was just one of them. Except your brain didn’t seem to get the memo. Especially with someone, you had an intense orgasm without him even knowing, or that’s what she thought.

Every time someone with a low voice spoke during a call, your heart did that stupid thing — the half-second jolt before realising it wasn’t him. You hadn’t texted, hadn’t even tried. It wasn’t like you owed him anything. Also, you’re too embarrassed to contact him anyways.

And so, you buried it — until Soonyoung decided to ruin your emotional stability for sport. “It’s Friday,” he declared, barging into your cubicle with the enthusiasm of a man who’s never known shame. “We’re going out. Jihoon’s coming. No excuses.”

“I have emails to-” “Nope,” he cut you off, snatching your mouse and dramatically logging you out. “You’re touching grass tonight, whether you like it or not.”

Which is how you ended up at a crowded downtown bar, squeezed between Soonyoung’s chaos and Jihoon’s eternal disapproval. The music was loud, the lights warm, and the air smelled like beer and bad decisions. You were halfway through your drink when Soonyoung suddenly went still. “Don’t panic,” he said.

Your stomach dropped. “Why?” “Because.. hot people incoming. Specifically, men who look like they pay taxes on time.” You turned and froze. Him. Again.

He was walking in with two other guys — one with long hair and a mischievous grin.. definitely trouble, the other already laughing at something. Wonwoo looked the same — relaxed, slightly tired, effortlessly attractive in a black long sleeves that fit a little too well. Of course. The universe had a sense of humour.

Jihoon noticed your expression instantly. “Oh no,” he muttered. “Who’s that?” You tore your gaze away too quickly. “No one.” Soonyoung squinted. “That’s tech support voice, isn’t it? You mentioned before that you met him already!!” “Lower your voice!” you hissed, smacking his arm.

But fate, being a little shit, made eye contact inevitable. Wonwoo’s eyes swept across the bar — and landed right on you. A flicker of recognition passed through his face, followed by something dangerously close to a smile.

You panicked and looked away. Pretended to study the drink menu like it held the secrets of the universe. “Oh my god,” Soonyoung whispered gleefully. “He saw you.” “Shut up.”

He didn’t. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.

A few minutes later, laughter rippled from the next table — Wonwoo’s group had settled just a few seats away. You tried not to stare. Really, you did. But when you heard his laugh — that same quiet, low sound you remembered from the phone — your whole chest ached, and also down there..

Jeonghan, his long-haired friend, caught you looking. His lips curved into a knowing smile before leaning toward Wonwoo to say something. Wonwoo’s gaze flicked your way again, he’s now wearing his typical glasses, that you swear you just want him to wear while-. Soonyoung caught that, too. “Yup. He’s looking. He’s so looking.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate this. I actually hate this.” Jihoon sipped his drink calmly. “No, you don’t.” And maybe he was right — because when Wonwoo finally stood up, drink in hand, and started walking toward your table, your pulse went wild.

You straightened instinctively, heart hammering. Soonyoung muttered, “Oh my god, he’s coming over-” “Hey,” came that familiar voice — smoother than you remembered, and a lot closer.

You looked up, every thought in your head dissolving into static. Wonwoo smiled. “Didn’t expect to see my favourite caller here.” Soonyoung choked on his drink. Jihoon muttered, “I need another round.”

And you? You just tried to remember how to breathe.

You blinked up at him, trying to play it cool even though Soonyoung was grinning beside you like a proud parent. “Oh, hi.” Wonwoo’s lips curved slightly. “You don’t call anymore.” You tilted your head, shy but smiling. “Well, I don’t need help with anything regarding my technologies, so..”

He took a small step closer, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I meant my personal number. After you ended the call, leaving me behind, you never called again.” You froze. The words hit like a slow echo, sinking into the quiet thrum of music around you. You blinked at him, unsure if you heard right, if he was teasing or serious — until you saw the faint glint in his eyes.

And suddenly, the flash of that night came rushing back. The memory of his voice. The way your breath had hitched, every pressed your fingers made, every moan, every shiver.. everything. The stupid thoughts that followed. Your chest felt hot.

“I- excuse me,” you muttered quickly, voice a little too thin as you slipped past him. The cool air outside hit like a reset button, sharp and grounding. You walked to the bar side, where the noise softened into background static, and pulled a cigarette from your bag with shaky fingers.

The flame flickered when you lit it. You inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs before slowly exhaling toward the empty road. The night air wrapped around you, quiet, still. Then.. a low chuckle behind you.

“You smoke?”

You turned slightly, startled. Wonwoo stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, the faint streetlight catching in his hair. He looked amused — but not judgmental, just curious, his tone lazy and warm. You blinked. “Only when I’m trying to forget embarrassing things.”

He laughed quietly, walking closer. “So that’s what I am?” You took another drag, eyes flicking toward him. “No.. fuck- sorry. I really just am trying to forget something I did”

He tilted his head, smirking faintly. “Like.. touching yourself with the help of my voice?” Your jaw almost hit the floor. You believed it did. You couldn’t even move nor talk, cigarette on your fingers, smoke curling in the space between you.

He took a step closer, closing the gap between you both. His smirk grew wider as he reached out and gently took the cigarette from your fingers. He brought it to his own lips and took a drag before exhaling slowly. “You know what I think?”

“I think you should do something for me. You left me aching that night” He took another drag before offering the cigarette back to you. When you didn’t take it as how shocked you are, he held it there teasingly. “Shotgun.” He said lowly, his face inches from yours. “Can you do a shotgun?”

The sudden request snapped you out of your stunned silence. You blinked rapidly, processing his words. “Shotgun?” You repeated dumbly, finally taking the cigarette back from his fingers. Your hand brushed against his briefly, sending a spark through you. “You want me to-” You paused, then laughed nervously.

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah, you know what I mean.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never done shotgun before.. you even played without who you’re thinking of”

You raised an eyebrow, ego rising, and took a long drag of the cigarette before exhaling slowly in his direction. As you did, you reached up and wrapped your hand around his nape, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden contact, a small jolt running through him.

You brought the cigarette to your lips again, taking a deep drag before sealing your lips around it and hovering around his mouth. You held the smoke in your mouth for a moment before exhaling slowly into his mouth, sharing the hit with him in a perfect shotgun pass.

Wonwoo’s eyes remained on yours as the smoke filled his mouth, your lips dangerously near his. It was intimate and unexpected, the act of sharing a cigarette like this. His hand instinctively gripped your wrist where it still rested on his nape, holding you there.

Before you could pull away, Wonwoo’s free hand suddenly gripped your hip possessively, pulling you closer as he went in for a kiss. The cigarette fell forgotten to the ground between your feet as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access to your mouth.

The smoke from the cigarette was intoxicating, but it was nothing compared to the taste of his mouth. Wonwoo’s lips moved urgently against yours, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore your mouth with an intensity that left you breathless. The taste of tobacco mixed with his own unique flavour drove you crazy.

—

Fuck, this girl can kiss. My mind was spinning as I devoured her mouth hungrily, my hands gripping her tightly. The taste of cigarettes and something uniquely hers exploded on mine, making my head swim. * deepened the kiss further, my tongue dominating hers as I pulled her flush against me.

This is driving me insane. She’s insane.

Ever since that night, I couldn’t just take her off my mind, much worse, she didn’t even bother to reach out. She made sure she got the pleasure she needed and threw me. Now that’s hot of her.

I broke the kiss briefly as my hands framed her face. I quickly removed my glasses and set them aside. My vision was indeed blurry, but it only seemed to heighten my senses haha, this is driving me crazy. I captured her lips again immediately, my touch turning almost desperate as I kissed her.

The taste of her mouth feels like I needed her to survive.

And I’m not even gonna complain about that.

—

Wonwoo forced himself to break the kiss, his chest heaving as he looked at you through his blurry vision. Your lips were swollen and kiss-stained, a few strands of hair sticking to your flushed cheeks. He blinked rapidly to clear his sight, needing to see your expression clearly.

Your soft voice asking “What do you want to do.. Wonwoo?” snapped something inside him. His hands suddenly gripped your face harshly, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he groaned possessively before crashing his lips back onto yours brutally. He wanted to fuck you right there against the wall. But he controlled himself.

He broke the kiss again, his face inches from yours as he panted heavily. His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower to your collarbone before pausing at the hem of your skirt. “Can I..” He swallowed hard, his fingers curling slightly into your thighs. You nodded.

His eyes darkened as he watched your expression. His hand slid, then lower, pushing past your panties easily. He checked once more if you were okay with this — non-verbal, just watching your body language. You widened your thighs slightly, giving him better access. His mind went blank.

He pushed two fingers deep inside you without warning, his other hand gripping your hip possessively as he pinned you against the wall. His eyes never left your face, watching for any reaction. Like how your pleasure is his pleasure.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you gasped sharply at the sudden action. Your back arched slightly, pushing you further onto his fingers. A small whimper escaped your lips as he began to move his fingers in and out of you, his thumb pressing down on your clit.

“Did you imagine my fingers fucking you like this when I called you and hung up without saying a word?” He asked gruffly, his voice laced with jealousy on your fingers. His fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot that made your legs tremble. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Fucking your own pussy thinking it was me? Hm?" He growled, his face hovering over yours. He picked up the pace, his fingers moving in and out of you at a brutal pace. You could only whimper and shake your head, too overwhelmed to speak, too scared to be caught.

He noticed the change in your insides immediately, your folds tightening around his fingers as you began to clench. His eyes darkened with lust and satisfaction. “Won- I.. I’m close” You barely managed to say, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.

One of your legs lifted completely off the ground, wrapping around his waist instinctively as you gripped his shoulders for support. Your fingers dug into his muscles, holding on for dear life as he finger-fucked you against the wall. “Damn, look at you,” he groaned.

Just as you were on the verge of coming apart, Soonyoung’s voice echoed down the street. “Y/N! Where are you?” His fingers froze inside you, your orgasm hovering right at the edge but not allowed to fall over. You froze completely, looking into his eyes, shocked.

You quickly shushed Wonwoo, your hand pushing gently against his chest. “Pull out!” He pulled his fingers out immediately, his other hand quickly adjusting your clothing back into place. You smoothed down your hair and shirt before stepping away from him, your leg still slightly trembling. “Coming!”

Wonwoo chuckled softly against your ear as he whispered just loud enough for only you to hear “You are indeed coming..” His smirk was pure sin. You let him be and walked towards your friend and acted like nothing happened.

“Where have you been? Jihoon thought you got kidnapped,” Soonyoung said the moment he spotted you. “I’m not even that drunk yet,” you replied, looping your arm through his. “Oh, I know,” he said with a grin. “and I thought you were busy, you know.. fucking.”

You choked on your own saliva and smacked his arm. “Soonyoung!” “What?” He just laughed and slowly pushed you inside the bar again.

And before you even went inside totally, you swore you spotted Wonwoo standing against the door, his head tilted back slightly as he slipped two of his fingers into his mouth, sucking it clean. His eyes locked onto yours, his smirk widening as he watched your mouth go open.

“Where’s Soonyoung?” Jihoon asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You giggled, already drunk. “Probably busy making out with someone,” you replied, downing another shot. “Jihoon.. I’m going to sit at that table,” you pointed at one across the room. “Oki?! Don’t find me.. ehe”

Jihoon just shook his head, a small smile on his face as he watched you jog away giggling. “Have safe sex.” He called out after you, his voice getting lost in the loud music of the bar. You waved him off without looking back, your giggles echoing as you made your way to the table alone, a man on the couch, smirking, eyebrows raised as he watched you walk towards him.

“Drunk enough to come at me, Y/N?” Wonwoo said, his arms spread on the back of the sofa, looking intently at you as you sat on one of his thighs and leaned into him. “But sober enough to know what I’m doing..”

Wonwoo chuckled, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Even hotter,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

He leaned in for another kiss, but you pulled back slightly. “How did you know I was touching myself during our call last time?” You asked softly, searching his face for answers. His smirk returned slowly as he pulled back slightly too. “Love.. it was so obvious” He paused.

His fingers gently scanned your face, his voice low and husky as he continued, “I could hear you whimpering softly, your breaths hitching. I knew exactly what you were doing.” His thumb lightly brushed against your jaw as you opened your eyes again to look into his.

You pulled him into a heated kiss, your lips pressing urgently against his. Wonwoo groaned instantly, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pulled you closer. The kiss was demanding, passionate, and full of unsaid words. You could feel his erection pressing against your hip, hard as a rock.

The kiss became more intense, tongues dancing aggressively. You started grinding against him slowly, feeling his hardness through his pants. He broke the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, one hand gripping your hair while the other squeezed your ass, pulling you harder against him. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours..” You said as you leaned wanting to continue the kiss, yet he stopped the kiss as he pulled you up and guided you towards his car. He quickly unlocked his car and pushed you gently inside, he held onto your jaw, kissing you torridly, then pulled away and closed your door.

He walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat, his heart pounding with anticipation. The drive to his place was a blur of speeding streets and red lights. His hands gripped the steering wheel and your thighs, dangerously close to your cunt, tightly, trying to focus on the road instead of the throbbing in his pants.

—

Your jacket hit the living room floor. His shirt was thrown somewhere between the kitchen counter and the hallway. Your bra was tossed near the stairs while his belt buckle echoed loudly. Your pants were kicked off near his bedroom door. His boxers hit the floor just as you slammed him against the wall for another deep kiss.

You pushed him backwards onto the bed, naked except for your underwear. His hard cock stood up proudly, leaking pre-cum. Instead of straddling him immediately like he expected, you climbed on top of him slowly, grinding your covered pussy against his cock teasingly. “Y/N.. stop torturing me.”

He went feral as you positioned yourself on the bed with your hands above your head, giving him full access and a clear view of your body. “Good idea.. how about torture me instead,” you smirked.

“I’m going to torture you so good,” he muttered as he ripped your underwear completely off while kissing you. Before you could even move, he was positioning you in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, making you sit on his lap with your legs spread wide.

You could see your entire body reflected in the mirror — your spread legs, his muscular arms wrapped around your thighs keeping them open. Your breasts were beautifully free as he kneaded them slowly from behind. You watched yourself being used in this position. “Look at yourself,” he whispered. That made you shiver.

“God, I love this view,” he whispered against your neck, making you arch your back slightly to press your ass against his cock. “You see how wet you are? How your pussy is just dripping?” He pulled your hips back slightly so your reflection showed your wet slit clearly.

“And your perfect tits..” He squeezed them harder, leaving red marks. “I could fuck you like this all night, watching you watch yourself get destroyed.” His hands slid down to your inner thighs, spreading you wider, you shut your eyes and exhaled a very shaky one.

He slapped your breast hard enough to leave a handprint, making you gasp and your eyes fly open instantly. “Uh-oh.. eyes on the mirror, love” He kissed and bit your earlobe roughly. “Watch how wet you are and I’m not even holding you”

“You know I’m not going to touch your pretty little pussy until you beg,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your neck. He proceeds to rub himself against your back, teasing you with the head of his cock. “You want me to touch you?” You nodded desperately. “Then cum.”

He chuckled darkly, his voice seductive. “You’re shaking so bad, love.” He pinched your nipple, making you gasp and your body tremble even more.

“Wonwoo.. please” You begged him. “Imagine what it would feel like inside you.. but no, love. You’re gonna cum from my words alone.” He rubbed against your back again, his voice like a drug, making you whimper. “Mhmm- ughh.. ah Wonwoo-”

“You’re so close, I can tell,” he murmured, his hands slowly sliding up your body from your nipples, over your collarbone, until his fingers wrapped gently around your neck. He applied the slightest pressure, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel owned. “Go on, princess. Cum then I’ll fuck you senselessly,” he whispered.

His breath on your neck, sucking on it, at the same time watching your back arch, your hips tilt back instinctively looking for friction, your fold lips swelling and getting wetter by the second without being touched. “I can see your clit throbbing, Y/N.”

“Then.. d-do something about it..” “Shhh.. moan for me... arch that beautiful back... your cunt is twitching so fucking adorably, you’re making me want to put it inside already” His grip on your neck tightened slightly as he watched you fall apart from his words alone.

You let out a desperate whine, your hips moving on their own now, searching for something to grind against. He leaned in closer, his tongue flicking out to lick the inside of your ear, making you shiver even more intensely. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispered.

Fucking voice of yours.

Your body snapped tight as if electrocuted. You threw your head back with a silent cry. Your cunt twitched hard, releasing wetness down your thighs without anything inside you. Your back arched sharply, breasts pushing out, neck exposed as you rode out your unexpected orgasm from just his voice and minimal touch. “Jesus..!”

“Ughh- ahh fuck.. mhmm-hmm” He chuckled as he watched your reflection in the mirror, his eyes intense and hungry. Your moans echoed through the room, desperate and needy sounds that only turned him on more. He kept his hand gently wrapped around your neck even after your orgasm subsided.

“My turn,” he groaned, pushing you down onto your knees without warning. He spread your legs wide apart with his knees, using his cock to spread your cum-coated fold lips open. Without hesitation, he pushed inside you hard and deep. When did he even put on the condom?? “Fuck,” he groaned loudly, feeling your warmth inside that almost made him feral.

He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock as he kneeled behind you. Your reflection in the mirror showed your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and your breasts bouncing with each thrust. “You’re tight like how I imagined you to be,” he grunted, slapping your ass hard.

“So fucking wet and sticky from your cum,” he groaned, watching his dick disappear inside your slit in the mirror. “And it’s gripping me so fucking tightly.” He reached around to press your clit, making you whine and push back onto his dick harder.

You’re long gone.You felt his cock stretching you open again after cumming so hard from just his words earlier. Each slap on your clit sent electric shocks through your sensitive body, making your walls flutter around him even more tightly. You watched helplessly in the mirror as he fucked you ruthlessly from behind.

Your breasts bounced heavily with each thrust, your hair messy and wild. You felt his balls on your slit with every deep push inside you. He was hitting that spot deep within you that made stars explode behind your eyes. You moaned loudly without inhibition, pushing back eagerly onto his cock.

Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of your hair roughly and pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back and lean onto him. His other hand reached around to squeeze your throat gently as he started fucking you even harder and faster. The mirror reflected your desperate face, mouth open in a scream of pleasure and pain.

“Wonwoo..” you moaned, eyes shut. “That’s right.. moan the name of the guy inside you right now.” He said, not letting his eyes leave the mirror even for just a second.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered on your ear, his fingers tightening around your neck as his hips snapped forward, burying his wrapped dick deep inside your folds, which tightened as well along with his orgasm. You felt his hot cum shooting inside the condom. I wonder what it feels like without the condom..

He let out a few more hard thrusts, making sure both of your orgasms are satisfied. Pull out, throw the condom, and put on a new one, your eyes solely on the mirror, watching his movements from behind.

Then, suddenly, lifted you up in his arms. Without a word, he pinned you against the mirror, your leg wrapping around his arm and the other one on his shoulders instinctively. “Fucking hell- Wonwoo! Didn’t even wa-wait..” He started pounding into you with brutal force. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room along with your moans and his heavy breathing.

His cock was rock hard again inside you, hitting that spot deep inside that made your vision blur. Now it’s not just him who has a blurry vision. He leaned in, crushing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.

His tongue invaded your mouth, mimicking the movements of his dick as he continued to make love with you. You could taste the saltiness of his sweat and the faint hint of tobacco on his lips.

You were overstimulated beyond belief, your body shaking and twitching with every thrust. Your cunt was so sensitive from the multiple orgasms that even the slightest touch made you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. His kiss was suffocating, his tongue overwhelming your mouth.

Your nipples were hard and aching, rubbing against his chest with every rough thrust. You felt your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably, milking his cock for more cum. Your entire body was on fire, every nerve ending sparking with intense pleasure.

He pulled back from the kiss to watch you with heavy-lidded eyes, his gaze flicking up to the mirror behind you. The glass shook and rattled with each thrust, reflecting your contorted face and the way your body bounced against his. He grinned, seeing how thoroughly fucked out you looked.

“Fucking look at yourself,” he growled lowly, his voice rough and commanding. “See what a mess you are? Getting destroyed by my dick.” His hand reached up to your face, pushing his thumb to open your mouth. “You like that?” You sucked on his thumb, making him smirk.

Your eyes rolled back, your body convulsing as you came suddenly on his cock. “Shit-” your pussy clamping down so tightly he swore he thought his dick’s gonna be cut in half. He watched in the mirror as your entire body shook with pleasure. “Cuming without saying, huh?”

“You like my voice so much?!” He groaned, not slowing down his thrusts even as you spasmed around him. He adjusted his angle slightly, hitting that spot that made you scream even through your sensitivity. He’s catching his high as well.

His hips are moving slower but more deep now. “Still squeezing my cock like you’ve never cum before.” He bit your lip hard as he felt his orgasm building. “Gonna fill this condom so fucking much..”

“Ahh-!” He moaned loudly, screaming your name, burying his face in your neck as he started coming hard, his hips jerking forward as he pumped his cum into the condom. You could feel the warmth even through the rubber, his thick cum filling it to the brim again, like he hadn’t just filled you minutes ago.

Morning light filtered through the curtains — pale gold, slow, almost shy. You stirred against the sheets, the faint scent of coffee and clean linen hanging in the air. The space beside you was warm.

Wonwoo lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, scrolling lazily through his phone. His hair was messy, eyes soft when he noticed you blink awake. “Goodmorning,” he murmured, voice lower than usual — rough with sleep. What the fuck.. he’s voice could be deeper????

You only hummed in reply, burying your face halfway into the pillow. The ache in your body made everything feel heavy but oddly peaceful. You shifted a little, noticing the fresh bottoms you had on, the faint scent of soap clinging to your skin. “Did you..?” you started.

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah. You knocked out last night. I didn’t want you waking up sticky, so I took care of it.” You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “You really didn’t have to-” “I wanted to,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Your glasses didn’t fall last night..” You said, trying to prove a point. “Oh is my glasses, one of your fantasies as well?” He teased that made you and him laugh.

Silence stretched for a moment — comfortable, slow. Then you reached across the bedside table for your phone. He watched you, eyebrow raised. “Already checking your emails?” “Nope.” You grinned sleepily, fingers already dialing.

He frowned. “Are you seriously calling someone right now?”

You pressed the speaker button and looked at him. The phone rang once before his phone, somewhere on the nightstand, began to buzz. Wonwoo’s brow furrowed even more. “Are you calling me?”

You smirked as his screen lit up with your name. He picked up, lips curving. “What is this..?”

You smiled into the receiver, eyes still on him. “Just making sure I don’t have to press one again for tech support.” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned closer.

“Good,” you said softly. “Because when I dial a number, I like it when it’s your voice that answers, not an automated machine.” Wonwoo chuckled, setting his phone down and brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Then I guess I’ll keep the line open for you.”

You met his gaze — lazy morning sunlight spilling over both of you — and smiled. “Mhmm. Because I think I might need tech support again.” He laughed against your lips. “For what?”

“For whatever’s wrong with my heart,” you teased.

Wonwoo only kissed you in reply.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ reblog with tags and feedbacks are so much appreciated, it motivates me a lot ❤️ See y’all in my next one (part 2 of ..shhh)

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar @minghaooswife @yoonzinogrl @xh01bri

—

You wonder if this is how it usually starts; a broke college student, an overeager friend and a last resort.

It’s not like you wanted or planned this; your final year of university and your tuition fees were piling up by the hour; your loan had already run out and all your applications for more money had been shot down about as delicately as a war plane. You’re pretty certain you’re on the loan office’s blocked callers list now.

It was your friend’s suggestion. You already knew she had a sugar daddy—a man named Mark who she never let you meet and seemed way too young to be doing this but, based on the flashy clothes she’d started wearing recently, clearly had enough money for it. And contrary to your expectations of sugaring as she called it, he actually seemed very nice; she was constantly gushing about how well he treated her and he appeared extremely respectful and affectionate towards her on the phone calls you’d been privy to. So fuck it, you thought, and you signed up for the website she’d given you as soon as you were drunk enough to bring yourself to do it.

While this was undoubtedly a sex-focused service, she’d emphasised to you the classy nature of the site; no lewd usernames, no nude pictures of any kind; just a clothed photo that showed your figure, basic information about you, and the type of arrangement you were looking for.

PLEASE SELECT ONE:

Sugar daddy/sugar baby

Straight/gay/bisexual

Top/bottom/vers

Dominant/submissive/switch/vanilla

Your blush ran deeper as you made your way down the list, arranging yourself into categories that felt a little like being sold at auction. Sugar baby. Straight. Bottom.

At the final question, you hesitated—you thought about putting ‘vanilla’, a little afraid of what these rich, anonymous men might expect to be able to pay for, but the words of your best friend rang out in your head. “Be honest with what you want,” she’d told you. “Just because you’re doing this for money doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get any fun from it.”

She was right, as usual. If you were going to get fucked for money, then you at least deserved to fucked well; even so, you had to close your eyes in shame as you clicked the little box titled ‘submissive’. That was a side of you that had only ever existed in your fantasies.

The rest of your profile was simple; you almost backed out when they asked for your ID, not wanting to give yourself away, but visions of loan sharks and withheld diplomas squashed those doubts pretty quickly—you were going to do this. You were going to get some rich man to pay your tuition, and that was the end of it. You had no other choice.

To be fair to the site, it was pretty well and, considering what it was for, non-pervertedly designed. You were matched with partners based on your preferences, but no one could message you until you’d liked their profile. You spent a few minutes clicking through the profiles, haphazardly liking or disliking as you felt like it, until one made you pause.

The picture was of a man in a suit, cropped at the neck to conceal his identity; but you didn’t really need to see his face to know that this man… well. He was certainly an option. Just from that one picture, taken from below, sleeves rolled up and linen straining against his chest, you felt authority emanating through the screen. Yeah, this could work very well.

You clicked nervously on his profile, hoping not to find anything crazy or gross in his bio to turn you off of him, but it was, well. Normal. For this place at least.

Sugar daddy. Straight. Top. Dominant. A good start—perfectly aligned with you.

From his bio you found out he was almost 30–a decent bit older than you but not over the line; he worked in the entertainment industry, and he valued discretion. Likewise, you thought.

You clicked like without a much more consideration.

The message came through an hour later, just as you were sitting down for dinner; you couldn’t help but grin when you got the notification, opening it nervously.

Hey. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but you’re nearby and I’d be interested in getting to know you. Would that be ok?

At first you were a little taken aback by how… polite the message was. How normal. Given the nature of the site you were half-expecting something perverted and disturbing, but this man was taking you by surprise already.

You typed your reply with your bottom lip held painfully between your teeth.

Hi :) that sounds great! I’m free next weekend if you are?

Great. Saturday evening? I’ll take you for dinner, if you like?

Perfect.

The nine days between then and your first meeting pass surprisingly quickly; you keep in regular contact with your faceless friend, you both having agreed to keep things anonymous for now, and though neither of you dance around the reason you’re both here, you find it easy to have normal, friendly conversations with him too. You tell him about your degree, and he gives you small details about his life and work—a singer, he says. He offers nothing more and you don’t press; from the way he talks about it you get the sense he may be some level of well-known, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’ll find out who he is on Saturday anyway.

On Monday night, just as you’re finishing up an assignment, your phone lights up with a new notification. You have his KakaoTalk now; it’s easier and more inconspicuous than the site and feels a lot less intimidating. The cartoon kitten on his profile picture makes you giggle as you open the message.

Now that we know each other a little better, would you be down to talk more about what our arrangement would look like, if it went ahead?

Yeah, of course. What are you thinking?

Can I call you?

Your stomach tightens and your palms tense nervously; you’ve called him before, but as you quickly found out, his voice makes it very difficult to concentrate on what he’s actually saying. You’re not exactly sure why; maybe it’s the deep, masculine lilt to it, but it sets your nerves on edge—still, you imagine this would be a better conversation to have on the phone, so you type your agreement with shaking hands.

Almost instantly the call comes through; “Hello?” You say softly.

“Hey, honey.” His voice is warm and familiar but still intimidating and the pet name he’s been using the past few days doesn’t make it any easier to keep a clear head. “How you feeling?”

“M’ good,” you mumble and he chuckles softly.

”Great. Well, I suppose we’ll just jump into it, yeah?” You make a noise of agreement and he continues. “Your profile said you’re a submissive. Can you tell me a little about that?”

You blank a little, already feeling out of your depth. You never thought this was a conversation you’d be having with someone, let alone a near stranger. “About that?” you echo. “Like, in what regard?”

“Well, do you have experience in that area?” His voice has a slightly deeper edge now; it’s focused and a little stern—clearly this is something he takes extremely seriously. “Have you submitted to someone before?”

“Um.” Your mind flashes with images of your previous partners; the varying experiences you’d had them but none of it seems to fit what you feel like he’s asking. “Not really.”

He hums. “So, if I had to guess,” he says, “you’ve been choked a few times, maybe spanked a little bit, and I’m assuming at least one of your partners wanted you to call him daddy?”

You can’t help but flush; that’s… exactly accurate. “Yeah,” you mumble. “How’d you know?”

“When people say ‘not really’, that’s usually what they mean.” You hear the smile in his voice and you wonder how many people he’s had this conversation with. You also wonder why the thought makes you a little bit jealous.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I assume you’ve gathered by now that I’m looking for more than that?”

Your stomach turns and you nod; it’s silent for a moment until you realise he can’t actually see you and you mumble a reply, embarrassed.

He laughs a little, seeming to realise what you’ve done before continuing. “There’s a lot I want to do with you, but I’m not going to dump it on you all at once, so we’ll start with what you’ve done already, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you’ve been choked,” he said. “So you’re comfortable having things on your neck.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’d certainly choke you during sex, if you’re comfortable. But I might use my arms rather than my hands. And at some point, I’d like to put a collar on you. How does that sound?”

“Um.” Fucking fantastic, you want to say, but you’re too embarrassed and still determined to play it at least a little bit cool. “It sounds nice.”

“Good. The next thing we mentioned is spanking, correct?”

You know you’re blushing now, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and trying to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. Something about the way he speaks so calmly and professionally about these things is really doing it for you, apparently. “Yeah,” you breathe.

“If I had to make a guess on that, I’d say they slapped your ass a few times during sex. Maybe a little foreplay, too. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, again, I’d do that too, but it’d be more than that. If you become my sugar baby, you become my submissive as well, which means you’d submit to my rules and discipline. Ya follow?”

It’s not a massive shock; he’d mentioned BDSM before, and you weren’t surprised given his profile—but hearing it out loud, in that voice, is a different feeling. “Yeah, I follow,” you say. “So you’d punish me? How?”

“Well if we’re talking about spanking…” He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’ll give you an example. Say you broke a rule, like if you talked back to me or I caught you touching yourself when I’d told you not to, then I’d put you over my knee, pull your panties down and spank you til I feel like you’re sorry. How does that sound?”

“Oh.” There’s an undeniable pressure in your stomach and you try not to let the arousal seep into your voice. “That’s… wow.”

“Is that good or bad?” He asks. He’s laughing, but he sounds cautious too. It makes you feel safe, the way he’s genuinely concerned about your feelings on this; it’s the bare minimum, sure, but you expected worse from that website.

“Good,” you breathe. “Really good.”

“Oh?” He’s teasing now; you practically see the grin on his face despite the fact you don’t actually know what that face looks like. “Does someone want to be spanked?”

“I think… yeah.”

“That’s good,” he laughs. “I bet you’ll look really cute kicking and squirming over my lap. Don’t you think?”

“Hopefully,” you mumble.

“I’m sure. And the last thing we mentioned. You’ve called someone daddy before, you said. Did you like it?”

“Yeah.” You answer quickly; you figure there’s no point in shame now.

“I see.” He pauses again. “I usually prefer sir, but I’m not opposed to daddy, either.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of.” There’s a playfulness to his voice now; a teasing lilt that makes you bite back a laugh. “You should get to bed, young lady. Why are you even up?”

“Assignments,” you say. “And what’s your excuse, sir?”

You hear the sharp intake of breath through the phone; the soft, strangled sound that dies in his throat and you feel a twinge of satisfaction. Yeah. I can play this game too.

He clears his throat, releasing an exasperated sigh and there’s a rustling sound before he speaks, voice dipping slightly. “My excuse,” he says, “is that I’ve nowhere to be tomorrow. Unlike a certain little brat.”

The final word is drawn out, teasing and warning at the same time and your chest tightens in excitement and a million other things. You don’t even know what this guy looks like, but fuck, he’s so good. You want to push his buttons and obey his every word simultaneously.

“True,” you mumble. “Okay, I’ll sleep.”

“Good girl.” The satisfied smile is audible in his voice. “See you Saturday, pretty.”

—

This man is gorgeous.

That’s your first thought when you see him Saturday evening; he’s waiting for you when your car pulls up, calling your name with a smile and wrapping an arm around your waist as he helps you out. He introduces himself as Johnny, and his voice sounds even better in person.

Your second thought follows not long after; you recognise him. You’d figured by now that he was probably some level of famous, but you weren’t interested enough in the whole idol culture to have recognised him from his voice alone; in fact it’s only when he tells you his name that you finally place him. You wait until you’re seated, in a private room you’d rather not know the cost of, before asking.

“I don’t wanna be too weird,” you say, “but you’re an idol, right?”

He laughs, nodding with a soft smile. “I am. Do you know me?”

“I’ve heard of you,” you mumble; you’re not sure why you’re so embarrassed to know who he is—that’s the whole point of celebrities, after all. You chuckle dryly, trying to ease the weight of the awkwardness you feel in your chest. “I recognised your face but I couldn’t figure out where I knew you from til you told me your name.”

“Ah.” His posture is relaxed, tone jovial but you see a surety and intensity in his eyes that makes you cower instinctively. “Heard any of my music?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice that he’s teasing you again.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, I’m not really into that stuff but like, I’m obviously gonna look you up when I’m home now.”

“I figured,” he laughs. “Shoot me a text once you’ve decided I’m your favourite.”

“If I decide that,” you say, and he laughs louder. You feel yourself relaxing a little; his open, friendly demeanour could make anyone ease up and you can’t help but feel comfortable in his presence. Only his dark eyes, which scarcely leave you but to call over the waiter and order, keep you on edge.

You don’t know what any of the words on the menu mean, so you let him order for you—he seems to like that; choosing for you, making small, simple decisions on your behalf. You see it on his face.

As it turns out he’s very good at choosing, too; the beef dish they bring out is something your friend had told you about, when you’d mentioned coming to this restaurant and she realised she’d been there with her own sugar daddy. It tastes amazing and the champagne that flows with it is even better.

“Food good?” He asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “Is yours?”

“Perfect,” he says. The weight of his gaze on you is unavoidable and you twirl the spaghetti around your fork nervously, just wanting something to do to avoid his eyes.

“So, um.” You clear your throat, trying to think of something to fill the silence but nothing comes. Johnny watches you with a small smirk; all-knowing.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says finally. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You hold back a laugh, biting your lip and he notices. “Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, okay, I am going to hurt you a bit.” He’s grinning, and you realise he chose his words intentionally; though whether to ease the tension or tighten it further you don’t know. “But I do want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Yeah. I am, I think.”

“Great. May I ask you something?”

You motion for him to speak and he smiles; you think you see the first hint of trepidation in his eyes before it quickly dims into the usual cool intensity.

“Obviously it hasn’t been long enough to make a firm decision,” he says, “but just so I have an idea, are you open to the idea of coming home with me tonight?”

You swallow; your stomach tightens at the proposition and the visions it provokes and your response is whispered like a scandalous secret. “Like… to play with you?”

“Yes,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean the start of a dynamic, and we won’t have sex; just think of it as a taster session.”

That doesn’t seem so bad, you think. And he’s careful, not rushing you into a dynamic or even pressuring you at all; that’s a good sign, right? “So what— um. What would we do?”

“Depends on your behaviour.” He winks teasingly at you from behind the glass in his hand and your head is in overdrive with the images he’d given you on the phone a few days ago; of being choked and collared and spanked by those impossibly large hands resting so tantalisingly close to yours.

You clench your thighs, swallowing dryly. “Yeah. I’m… open to the idea.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The evening passes surprisingly quickly; the tension in the air has all but dissipated, but for the subtle movements he makes every now and then just to see your reaction; a quirk of an eyebrow, a knowing smile, a perfectly timed touch that sends electricity rushing through your veins.

You know he’s toying with you, studying your natural responses to small hints of dominance so you react with similarly small, playful acts of submission in return; cowering under his gaze, bowing your head—allowing him the first taste of the control you may soon surrender completely to him.

“So,” he says, once the waiters have removed the last of your dessert plates. “Would you like to come home with me?”

—

Five million won lands in your bank account as you’re taking the elevator up to his apartment. You make a noise of shock, staring dumbfoundedly between him and the notification, but he says nothing; just smirks ever so slightly as he guides you out of the elevator with a hand on your lower back.

Johnny’s apartment is pretty much as you pictured it; everything a successful man on the cusp of his thirties would go for—black, white and grey themes, a large TV, low, atmospheric lighting and a stunning view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows that loom over you when you step inside. He removes your jacket for you, pausing to take in the outfit you’ve chosen once again before helping you remove your heels. He’s careful and gentlemanly, touches feather-light on your legs as he slides your shoes off. You’re not sure if the image of him on his knees in front of you like this contrasts or enhances the feeling of his dominance over you. You think it’s the latter, somehow.

When he stands up you see that without the few inches your heels provided you, he’s even more imposing—and in his own house, on his territory, you feel smaller than you ever have before.

“Come,” he smiles. He’s removed his suit jacket now, but the dress shirt, slacks and shoes are still on; the soles click against the floor as he guides you down the hallway by the hand.

You stop at the end of the hall, hovering outside a varnished wooden door. For a moment you stand there silently and his demeanour seems to shift a little; he stands a little taller and his face takes on a new solemnity as he looks you up and down. You feel like you’re being inspected, scrutinised; studied.

Your gaze flickers towards the door—is this where he does it? Where he… dominates people? Dominates you? Are you about to walk into a room full of whips and gags and contraptions you’ve never heard of?

“Hey.” Johnny’s voice is calm and soft and stops your spiraling in its tracks. His lips quirk in an amused smile. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not a red room.”

“Oh.” You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed—anyone would have assumed that, given the circumstances; still, you avert your eyes awkwardly, face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not offended. It's reasonable to assume I’d have one. But it’s just my bedroom, nothing too scary.”

“Oh. So you don’t… um.”

“I don’t have a red room?” You nod a little ashamedly and he chuckles. “No. I don’t need one. D’you know why?”

“Why?”

A large hand clasps around your wrist, making you shiver. “Because if we do this, you don’t submit to a room. You submit to me. Wherever we are, whenever I tell you to.”

You flush. “Oh.”

“Mhm.” His voice drops, veins bulging against his neck and he cuts a more and more intimidating figure by the second. You’re so ready.

”Do you remember the conversation we had about safewords?”

Of course you do; it was the first one you had once the pleasantries were over. “Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”

He makes a noise of satisfaction and there’s a ghost of a proud smile on his lips. “Excellent.”

You watch as his hand grasps the door handle, pushing it down but not opening it. He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering back to you and you tense, nerves multiplying by the minute.

“Couple things you should know,” he says. His voice is calm and collected and it makes your head rush. “First thing. When you play with me, you’re on your knees, on the floor. You don’t stand or walk or do anything I do because we’re not on the same level here. Understand?”

Your stomach flips, arousal gathering in your chest and your voice is strained when you squeak out a pathetic “Yes.”

“Good,” he says. He’s smiling knowingly, all too aware of the effect he’s having on you. “Second thing. It’s ‘yes, Sir.’”

Then the door is pushed open, and within a few seconds two things become abundantly clear; first, Johnny is true to his words—you don’t manage a single step inside his bedroom before you find yourself forced to your knees, kneeling with your head bowed beneath the pressure of his hand on the back of your neck. He holds you firmly in position but there’s little force behind his grip; there doesn’t need to be. He told you early on that he has no interest in subduing you or compelling you to submit—you’ll submit to him because you want to, and he’ll give you everything you need in return.

The second thing that becomes clear is that when Johnny said he didn’t have a red room, that was only technically the truth—because sure, it’s not a strictly-sex-only room, and it’s not red, but there’s absolutely no mistaking what happens here.

A glass cabinet displays an intimidating selection of toys; whips and paddles and dildos and things you couldn’t even begin to guess the use for; a bar is fixed to a lower portion of the ceiling, and the ropes hanging from it tell you he doesn’t use it for pull-ups; but most noticeably and unavoidably, there’s a large dog’s cage filled with blankets and soft pillows sitting directly at the end of his bed.

He catches your gaze lingering on the cage and laughs softly; the hand on your neck travels up to rest in your hair, caressing you gently and you hold your head exactly where he left it despite your desire to nuzzle into his touch. You have something to prove today, after all.

“You like my cage?” You hear the grin in his voice, feather-light touches tickling against your skin.

“Is it… for humans, sir?” The size of it makes the answer obvious but you need to hear it from him; the confirmation that this is really as batshit and delightfully insane as it seems.

He hums, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. You feel his presence above you as he crouches down a little, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “It’s for very, very bad girls indeed,” he says. “But you’re not bad, are you, precious?”

“No, sir,” you mumble. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stands back up, towering above you again before walking over to the bed. He takes a seat, staring at you for a moment before his he lifts his hand and beckons you towards him. “Come.”

You hesitate for a moment—are you really about to do this? Are you really going to crawl on your hands and knees towards this man whose face you’d never even seen before today?

Yeah. Apparently you are.

Your breathing stutters as you make the first movements; one hand in front of the other, then your leg, over and over until you’ve somehow made it, you’ve crawled across the room and settled on your knees at his feet. He looks elated.

For a moment, he says nothing; he stares you down with a calm, collected expression that screams control and you try desperately not to shrink under it. The first touch of his hand on your face is electric when he gently grips your jaw, stroking your skin with soft fingers. You feel—and are, to him at least—tiny.

“Sweet thing,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You can’t help but mewl in response, every cell of your body reacting to him, nerves standing on their ends. It’s a completely new feeling and utterly overwhelming. You want it to last forever.

“Can I hit you, angel?” His voice is low, gentle, the opposite of the way his grip on you tightens with want.

You feel yourself throb, nodding dumbly. “Yes sir.”

He smiles for a moment before his face darkens; the impact of his palm against your cheek would be enough to knock you down were it not for his still firm grip on your jaw. You cry out at the sting, unable to stop yourself and he can’t help but smile. “So responsive,” he tuts. “I’m gonna love training you up.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “I hope so, sir.”

“You know,” he says. “This is my favourite part of having a new sub. Figuring out what type they are.”

You pause. “Type, sir?”

He hums; a low, pleasing sound. “No two submissives are the same, but there are general categories you could fit most of them into. Some fit in all of them, in fact.”

“What are they?”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting and you see the way he settles further into his headspace, back straightening as he stares you down. Your lack of experience seems to do something to him—and that definitely does something to you.

“Well,” he says. He speaks slowly and carefully, every word chosen with thought. “You have your puppies. They like to be on their knees. They like to whine and bark. They like to hump.” His grip tightens on your chin, tilting your head upwards. His thumb pushes past your lips and into your mouth and you accept it greedily. “And if I told them to open their mouth for their master’s spit…” He parts your lips, pushing your mouth open; he hesitates for a moment, as though he’s waiting for you to object but you don’t; you just open wider. His lips twist into a smirk before you feel a wad of saliva land on your tongue. “They’d slack their jaw and swallow it like a good dog.”

He watches with a smile as you obey, letting the spit slide down your throat. Your head feels fuzzy and floaty and all the sensations in your body, from the feeling of the carpet against your shins to the arousal that twists painfully in your gut, feel distant and separate. The only thing that feels real and complete right now is Johnny.

“Seems you like pet play,” he chuckles. “I’ll have to get you some ears. A tail, too.” He strokes your cheek and you keen into his touch unconsciously. “Would you let me plug your ass with a little puppy tail, baby?”

“Yes sir.” The words are coming out on their own now, your body responding for you before your conscious can catch up. He smiles.

“You’d be a lovely kitten, too,” he says. “They’re not as much fun to play with as puppies, but they look oh so pretty in your lap. And sometimes it’s nice to have a pliant little thing that will let you use their holes without complaining.”

Oh, that does sound nice. You think you’d enjoy that sometimes, when you’re feeling softer and more fragile and just want to be cared for. And he’s so large and broad and warm that he’s practically custom made to have you in his lap. You’d fit perfectly and prettily and you sigh dreamily without realising. He laughs and you quickly regain yourself, blushing deeply.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumble. “Um. Were all your subs, like, pets?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve had a few slaves before as well,” he says. “They were lovely; obeyed me like it was second nature. Took all the pain and humiliation I inflicted on them and still wanted more. Almost made me rethink my policy on not drawing blood, but that’s not my sort of thing really; they took a whipping like nobody’s business though.”

You cower a little, gaze dropping downwards; this doesn’t seem like you. You’re more than happy to be hurt and humiliated by Johnny, but this just seems… too much. You’re not ready for that level of submission and you’re not even sure you want to be. You feel a faint pressure on your chest, a familiar feeling of having fallen short but you’re not sure why; you’re allowed to say no—when you signed up for the website you signed a contract which stated it explicitly, and Johnny himself has reiterated it to you multiple times. You don’t have to take everything he offers you and you don’t have to do or be or enjoy anything simply because he does.

So why does it feel like a shortcoming; like you’ve foundered and failed before you’ve ever started?

You’ve zoned out without realising, deep in thought; Johnny sees the gears turning in your head and clicks his tongue, nudging your jaw upwards again. His smile is warm and gentle when you finally meet his gaze and though his voice is still soft and patient, there’s a finality to it that wasn’t there before; a seriousness. “You don’t like the sound of that, that’s okay,” he assures you. “You should never, ever force yourself to do something just to please me, or to please anyone. Understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you whisper. The sternness in his voice tells you he’s not playing now; he needs you to know this and keep it with you.

“Good girl,” he praises. His voice lifts a little and you see the moment he changes tack, back to toying with you like he was before. “God, you’re pretty. I don’t think I could hurt a little thing like you that way even if you did want it.”

You whine without realising it; your mind is a complete fog now, control and awareness slipping away by the second but you manage to string the few words that come to you into a slow, stuttered sentence. “Are those, um… that’s all of it, sir?”

His laugh is fond and a little condescending, like you’ve said something adorably stupid. You feel warm. “Those are just some typical ones,” he says. “Ones I’ve played with before. You don’t have to assign yourself to any of them, it just helps me to see what you do and don’t like the sound of.“

“Right.”

“You seem to like being a puppy,” he continues. There’s a teasing edge to his voice and you hold back another whine. “I think you’d like being a kitten sometimes, too. Turning your brain off and just letting daddy use you, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your body reacts of its own accord to the title; you shudder in his hold, slumping slightly as a soft moan escapes your lips and it makes him laugh softly, fondly. “You really like the whole daddy thing, huh?”

You nod, a little embarrassed—it’s not even that you’re particularly into it on your own, in fact you only called your ex that because he wanted you to. Sure, you enjoyed it and it certainly made him fuck you harder and deeper and better, but you’ve never explored it of your own volition. You’ve never felt the need to.

But something about the way it sounds so sweet and natural on Johnny’s lips, like he’s acknowledging a reality rather than acting out a fantasy, makes it all seem so right—and so exciting. He certainly suits the name; so big and so strong and in complete control of you. Yeah, you’re definitely going to need to try this out.

You see in his face that his own thoughts are similar; his eyes are fogged with arousal and there’s a thick tension in his neck as he swallows. “You definitely make it work.” His hand moves from your jaw to cup your cheek and he lets you nuzzle against it greedily, a smile twitching on his lips. “Cute. God, there’s so much I could do to you.”

“Do it,” you breathe. “Please, sir.”

“Such good manners,” he croons. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine. You don’t even know what ‘it’ is, but you know he’s right; you’re desperate, feverish for it. For anything, as long as it comes from him.

“Ask me nicely,” he whispers. “Ask me for what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you say. “You, sir.”

In a moment of desperation—or stupidity, perhaps—you reach for him, hands curling into the material of his shirt and grazing against what feels like a full set of abs beneath it. Wrong move.

He lifts you by the hair, dragging you to your feet and throwing you over his knee. Your heart pounds with expectation but he doesn’t hit you as you expect him to; instead he flips you over so you’re lying on your back, head resting on the sheets; your hair falls prettily around your face and you make the perfect picture of innocence. You want him to ruin it.

The feeling of his hand on your throat is electric; the other roams across your torso, groping your tits with a detached interest. He’s in no hurry, after all.

“Who told you to touch me, huh?” His words are growled, arousal filled as he grabs one of your tits and squeezes hard enough to make you whimper. “Here I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

“I am,” you whine. “Sir, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I will.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring you down like he’s figuring out whether he believes you before sitting you up so you’re perched on his knee. He grabs your wrists and moves them behind you, folded over each other and resting against your lower back. “Keep those there,” he says. “This is your first lesson. You don’t touch what’s not yours and you don’t move a muscle without my permission. Understand?”

You nod dumbly and he slaps your face just this side of painfully. “Words, my girl.”

My girl. Why does that feel so delicious and warm in your chest? “Yes, sir,” you mewl. “I understand.”

“Good.”

And then his lips are on yours, colliding desperately and almost painfully as if he’s been waiting for this his entire life. His hands are in your hair, tugging your head backwards to allow him to place a trail of wet kisses down your face and neck. His mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking harshly at the skin and you know it’ll be purple when he pulls away. It stings in the best way and a string of curses tumble out in a rush as you ride the high of pleasure. He bites down a little, making you yelp. “Manners,” he grumbles against your skin but he doesn’t let go, so you figure he’s letting you off with that one.

When he finally pulls away his eyes are dark and feral; all pupil and all control. His hands roam up and down the sides of your torso and he looks ready to tear you apart. “Where’d you get this dress, pretty girl?”

You pause, caught off guard. He was sucking a bruise into your skin a moment ago and now he wants fashion tips? “Um… a mall, I think.”

“Is it special to you at all?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

With both hands he grabs at the fabric on your chest and yanks it apart; the material rips easily, crumbling in his hands and there’s a million sensations in your body as he yanks the remaining fabric off of you. The sight of your lacy black lingerie makes him smile and he fingers gently at the soft fabric of your bra. “How about these?” He asks.

“They’re not special,” you mumble. “But it’s my nicest set.”

“I’ll get you nicer.” The bra and panties put up little fight against him, and soon you’re completely naked and dripping on his lap. He pinches your stomach, just above your pussy and you whine. “Don’t ever wanna see you in cheap shit like that,” he mutters. “My girl wears the best, you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” you whisper. “Wanna be pretty for you.”

“Always are,” he grunts. He stills for a moment, stroking your thigh before he clicks his fingers, pointing at the floor in front of him. “Down.”

You obey wordlessly; you’ve adjusted surprisingly quickly to the automatic obedience he seems to expect—your body is already following his orders of its own accord even while your mind fades away into subspace and he seems profoundly pleased by it. You settle on your knees, staring up at him with wide eyes.

His lips quirk. Seconds feel like minutes until he finally speaks.

“Give me your hands.”

—

Your friend has been silent for two entire minutes. That’s how long it’s been since you finished recounting the events of the night before and looked up to see her staring at you with an open mouth. She looks… well, you don’t know exactly, but she definitely wasn’t expecting this. That much is very clear.

“Dude.” You force an awkward laugh, trying to break the silence that seems to judge you as much as you fear she is too. “You good?”

Finally she recovers herself and nods, raising the coffee mug to her lips and taking a long sip. She puts it down and you see a small smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah,” she says. “I just. Wow, girl.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect… that from you. I thought you were vanilla?”

You frown; you’re not sure you’d categorise your exploits with your exes as strictly vanilla, but to someone like her, who’s more than versed in the world of dominance and submission and had only ended up as a sugar baby later on, you suppose it would be. “I thought so too. Mostly.” You shrug. “But he’s really good.”

“You don’t say,” she snorts. Her eyes are wide and you recognise the faintest hint of arousal in her expression—recognize it at as the same one you’d worn last night when Johnny tied you to a chair in front of his floor length mirror and forced you to watch as he fucked you with a vibrator until you came all over his hands.

You can’t help but rub your thighs together slightly at the memory. You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he paddled you, girl.” She sounds impressed. “I still can’t convince mine to do that.”

You definitely didn’t have to convince Johnny; when he bent you over the bed and ran the black leather paddle across your ass, all he needed was the word ‘green’ tumbling from your lips and he was convinced and ready to go. You bite back a laugh at the thought. “Yeah,” you say.

“Did it hurt?”

“Kind of.”

You’d expected it to be worse, honestly; the paddle was fairly large and he wielded it in his hands like an executioner’s sword but as he explained to you, pain wasn’t the point of this one. It hurt, sure, but it was a slight sting and then a dull ache that was pretty bearable once the first rush subsided. But that was exactly what he wanted; the leather paddle was for play, designed for sensation rather than punishment—punishment, he told you, would come in the form of a larger wooden paddle you hope never to meet.

“Jealous,” she huffs. “And he sent you even more after?”

You nod. The transfer of ten million won as you stepped out of the taxi nearly made you collapse.

Good girl, the note said. You could almost see the smug smile as he typed it out.

“You got a good one, babe,” your friend says. “Hope he keeps it up.”

So do you.

—

The position you’re in is becoming familiar now; on your knees in front of him, naked and bound by ropes that snake down your back and loop under your thighs. What’s not familiar is the silicone plug sitting snugly in your ass and vibrating on a low, constant frequency; not enough to stimulate or satisfy you in any way, but enough to keep you needy and on edge.

Johnny is slouched slightly, lounging in his large, leather armchair and tapping his foot against the floor. His gaze is firm and authoritative but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He taps your cheek with his finger.

“What to do with you?” It comes out as a purr and you see his bulge beginning to strain against his slacks. Your breath hitches slightly, lips pursing and he notices, because of course he does; the grin that stretches over his lips is sly and scheming.

“You like my cock, huh?” He asks. “Haven’t even seen it yet, desperate girl.”

Your eyes flicker between his crotch and those dark, piercing eyes, unsure which is affecting you more. “Sir…”

“I’m right here,” he says. “You want it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please, sir. Want it.”

He leans back, adjusting himself slightly. “Take it out, then. Do your job.”

You nod; you can do that. You really fucking want to do that, actually. It’s been over a week of this and you still haven’t seen his cock—he, meanwhile, has seen and touched and marked every naked inch of you.

“Yes sir.” Your hands are shaking when you undo his slacks; you falter slightly when the zip comes down and you realise he’s not wearing underwear and he cocks a questioning eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

You shake your head, blushing slightly. “No sir.”

“Good. Pull it out.”

His cock springs up when you release it from the slacks and it’s just as big as you expected-slash-feared-slash-hoped it would be. It’s thick and veiny too, already leaking from the tip and you know your eyes are wide and desperate but you don’t care. You’ve never seen something more appetising.

“You like it, huh?” There’s amusement in his voice, layered beneath the husk of arousal. “Good. I’m gonna train you to take it every day, make you a total cockwhore for me. Hold still now.”

He pulls you towards him, holding your head steady as he pushes into your mouth. He’s not exactly rough with it, but he’s clearly not too concerned with your comfort right now; any attempt to stop you from gagging or coughing up on it is for his own sake, not yours. He guides it down into your throat and you feel yourself tearing up at the intrusion. You splutter slightly, unable to avoid choking and he tuts, yanking you back by the hair to give you a moment to breathe before pushing you back down.

“Have to train that out of you,” he mutters. “Gonna teach you to keep your throat open for me.”

He holds you still, cock resting in your throat until you settle around it, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling. “Good girl,” he grunts. “Take it like that, all the way.”

He pulls you back again and you gasp for breath, spluttering slightly but even as you regain your composure you’re still suckling eagerly at his tip like it’s the only thing you know how to do. You feel the shudder that runs through him as it reaches his cock, throbbing on your tongue. “You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “Learning so quickly. Who taught you to take a cock like that?”

“No one, sir.” Your voice is muffled around his cock, drool dripping down onto your lap.

“Shit, baby, you were really made for this. You need a reward.”

The feeling of his shoe nudging against your knees makes you jolt. “Open,” he says.

When you spread your legs you feel the stickiness of your thighs as they separate and your face burns—you’re leaking like a fucking bitch. Johnny’s smile is the widest you’ve ever seen it. “Oh, baby,” he tuts. “Dripping all over my floor like that. You in heat, honey?” His voice is teasing, gaze sharp and he doesn’t miss the shudder that rushes through you.

Still being in the early stages of your arrangement, you haven’t yet had a chance to explore the different dynamics Johnny had explained to you the first time you kneeled for him; to feel what it’s like to be his puppy or kitten whatever he wants you to be that day. For now, you’re his straightforward submissive and though you’ve certainly fucked yourself a few times to the thought of him pulling you around on a leash, you haven’t felt in a particular rush to pursue it just yet.

But those words. That tone.

You in heat?

You remember your neighbour in high school who bred dogs; how she’d sit at the table with your mother discussing puppies and litters and heats. It’s a distinctively… canine word to you; to hear yourself, your behaviour described in that way is thrilling. He knows it.

His foot moves forwards until it’s in front of your pussy and you don’t even hesitate for a second when he tells you to mount it. He watches you with a calm, pleased expression. “Look at me.”

He’s biting his lip when you meet his eyes, clearly as afflicted as you. “You remember your first lesson?”

“Yes sir.”

“What was it?”

“Don’t touch, sir,” you whisper. “Don’t touch, or— or move without permission.”

“Good,” he nods. “Remember that. You don’t move unless I tell you to. And you certainly don’t hump. Yeah?”

“Yes sir.”

He curls a stray hair behind your ear and a smile flickers over his lips. “You’re gonna tie that up next time,” he says. He tugs lightly at your hair to illustrate his point and you moan softly. “I don’t want you looking like a stray in here. I keep my toys clean.”

Fuck, you love the way he talks to you; insulting and demeaning yet tickling all the right parts of your brain to make you melt even deeper into submission.

He pulls you towards him. “Keep that mouth open.”

That’s the only thing you get that even resembles a warning before he’s shoving himself into you again and there’s no pretence of gentleness or caution this time as he forces his way into your throat. He holds your head down on it and pushes two thumbs into the top of your jaw so you can’t close your mouth even if you want to—all you can do is gag and choke and take it until he’s finished with you.

You’re faintly aware of tears streaming down your face, but by the time they land on your chest they’re mixed with the door that pours from your mouth as he fucks in and out. You’re so overwhelmed that you scarcely notice the feeling of your dripping pussy rubbing agonisingly against his shoe and trying desperately not to move; all the sensations have blurred into one now and everything is the same, everything is too much. You want more.

When he pulls out you can’t help but whine, feeling the loss and he chuckles. “Never met someone so desperate for cock,” he says. “Born for it, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze shifts to the cock in his hands, still hard and leaking and your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, practically salivating. You shoot him a pleading look and he clicks his tongue. “No, sweet thing. You’ve had enough of that. Besides, I don’t think you’ve earned my cum in your throat yet. Push your tits out for me.”

You obey begrudgingly, disappointed at the denial but still eager to please; he rewards you with a slight nudge of his foot against your pussy and you buck against it, falling against his shin and he laughs and pulls you back by the hair so he can see you properly.

“So easy,” he groans. His hand slides up and down his dick with increasing vigour and he throws his head back in pleasure. “Fuck.”

The tightening of his grip in your hair tells you when he’s about to cum and you push your tits out further to catch it. He grunts and moans through his orgasm and your chest and thighs are a mess of drool and spit and cum by the time he picks you up and takes you into his lap.

His rough hands are tender and careful now as he runs a warm wet cloth across your skin, gathering the mess you made together. His fingers are rubbing soothing patterns on your neck as he‘a mumbling something you can’t quite make out. Doesn’t really matter, though; his hold is warm and familiar and the low vibrations in his chest as he speaks are strangely comforting against the flushed skin of your face.

Maybe it’s the endorphins or the headrush that always follows your scenes with him, but you swear you’ve never felt safer.

The money’s not bad either.

—

nct taglist: @bbdeongi @yabbadabbatuh @fancypeacepersona

─..puff.puff.pass.─────

"Are you sure she's okay with this?" Seonghwa asks while he nervously bites at his thumb, looking over to where you sit with Yeosang at the table.

Your fuzzy socked feet pulled up on the chair, your chin on your knees as you roll a large joint; making small talk with the younger member. You don't even look the slightest bit nervous or shy despite what you all know is coming.

Yeosang looks a bit more shy than usual, and he keeps his eyes locked onto your nimble fingers after you caught him staring at your nipples through your thin tank top.

"Yeah," Hongjoong answers simply, dropping his phone in his lap and leaning back to look over at you with a small smirk. "She's excited."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Hongjoong raises a brow, "what about me?"

"Are you... excited?"

"Oh," he breathes, before a large smile spreads across his face, "very. She's actually super slutty, I want to see how she acts with you guys. I bet she'll cum s-"

"Hongjoong!" Seonghwa yells, eyes wide and hand over his mouth, "you can't call her that-"

He laughs, meeting his eyes with yours as you and Yeosang look over to the commotion, "baby, come here for a second?"

You slide the small tray with the paper and buds on it to Yeosang before you hop down and come over with a smile. "What's u-"

"Get on your knees." Hongjoong says flatly, staring up at you.

You can feel Yeosang staring at you from the table, and Seonghwa is looking up at you with eyes still wide.

You sink to your knees without a second thought, even if it does make your heart beat a little faster. "You still want to-" Your boyfriend goes to speak, when you cut him off.

Nodding eagerly, "I really do."

"You do?" And you nod. "Because you're my slut, right?" Another nod — and you hear Seonghwa's breathing picking up a bit. "And you like it when I tell you what to do?"

Seonghwa thinks he might explode as you keep nodding your head obediently, knelt between them; a bit more towards Hongjoong. He's never seen someone so... pliable. It's making his pants tight around the crotch.

"And you really, really like it when I use you as my personal fleshlight, don't you, baby?"

"Yes-"

"Give me a kiss," he doesn't even give you time to respond before he's leaning down and grabbing you by the throat, lips pressed to yours roughly. It's even rougher than usual now that his friends are watching. Like he's showing off.

Because he most certainly is.

He pulls back and spits into your gaped mouth, spreading the saliva that misses all over your chin as you look up at him dazed. "You want to be their fleshlight, too?"

"Yeah," you pant quietly, "I want to make them feel good."

"How are you going to do that, sweet girl?" He smiles, devilish under the surface as he feels Seonghwa shifting on the couch next to him.

"Let them use me."

"Yeah? C'mere," he says softer, pulling you up to straddle him, "you want us to use you however we want?" He hums as he rubs your thighs gently.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to stay sober so I can make sure you don't do something you'll regret?"

You hesitate for a moment before you nod, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, "a little bit. Just, not as high?"

Yeosang almost scares Seonghwa with how he's snuck up on you all, holding out the lit joint to him as he blows the smoke out of his lungs.

He takes it quickly so he can calm his nerves about the whole thing, taking a long puff while listening to Hongjoongs soft reassurances to you.

"I can do that, baby," he whispers as he wraps his arms around you, voice low in your ear — but purposefully not so low that his friends can't hear him. "I'm going to share you, but don't forget who you belong to, okay? I'm the only one you share your bed with. I'm going to let my friends use your little pussy and when they're done, I'm going to fuck you so good you forget what they even felt like inside of you. Do you understand?"

"Sounds good, Joongie," you reply airily, your cheeks suddenly hot from his words; and from the way you can feel their eyes on your lower back as Hongjoong slides his hands under your shirt to caress your back.

"And if you want them to quit, you let me know. My girl comes first. Yeah?"

"Okay," you nod, looking down at him as he leans back, "love you, Joong."

"Awe, I love you too," he says with a peck to your lips, hands on your hips as he pulls away, "now show them how much of a slut you are."

You and Seonghwa both gasp as Hongjoong all but throws you into his lap; his hands clumsily coming to steady you by your waist. "H-hey, Oppa."

It's his turn to feel hot, ears practically burning as you settle over his lap; just as you were atop your boyfriend. "Hey..."

"Don't be shy, love," Hongjoong says as he takes the joint from his lips, having taken a small hit — just like you asked of him. He leans and places it between your lips, allowing you to suck on it as he says, "get nice and high for us. You always get so wet~"

"Fuck, I can't believe this is happening," Seonghwa groans, rubbing his face.

"Why not?" Yeosang asks as he sits on his other side, eyeing you slowly as Hongjoong holds the joint for you to take another hit. "If you don't want to touch her, let me."

Seonghwa stops you when you go to move towards him; hands firmer on your sides. "Don't-" He hesitates, "I want you to grind on me."

Hongjoong smirks as you immediately start moving your hips, your hands settled on your thighs — afraid to touch. "You can touch, can't she, Hwa?" He reaches between you and hands Yeosang the joint.

He looks between you before nodding quickly, "yes- yeah, I don't mind."

"Of course you don't," Yeosang chuckles before taking a quick hit, "pretty girl grinding on your cock, you'd be stupid if you were complaining."

His casual calling of you 'pretty' makes you even more shy, whining as you move to press your face into Seonghwa's chest; holding onto his shirt as you swirl your hips lightly.

"Awe, my little slut is shy, huh?" Hongjoong giggles, giving a small spank to your ass and making you jump. "I know you can do better than that, don't embarrass me now."

"Fucking-" Seonghwa gasps, instinctively grabbing at you as you grind into his growing bulge — deep and perfectly paced, "oh my god~" He bites his lip quickly, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling.

"See, that's more like it," Hongjoong hums, rubbing your sore cheek, "be a good whore for Oppa~"

Seonghwa snaps his head down to glare at him, mouth open to chastise him when you give a particularly nice roll of your hips and all he can get out instead is a moan. "Oh, shit-" He grips your hips, guiding you to repeat the motion, "like that."

Yeosang places the blunt in his lips, letting it hang as he stands up; tired of watching. He quickly unbuttons his pants, pulling his zipper down to give some relief to his aching cock. He comes behind you, gathering up your hair before pulling you up, "come here, slut."

Hongjoong laughs at the lost look in your eyes as you come up; inebriated brain lagging behind as you catch up to someone else calling you that.

"Finish it off," Yeosang hums as he places the joint into your mouth, a good four hits still on it. "I want to you to be so high you forget where you are when I fuck your brains out."

Seonghwa pants out a laugh as you cough, shocked by his bluntness so much that your hips still. Hongjoong does the same, adding to your shock when he smacks your ass again, "did we tell you to stop, dummy?"

You steady yourself with your hand on Seonghwa's stomach, the other pinching the joint as you catch your breath. "Sorry..."

"It's okay, pretty baby," Hongjoong leans and kisses your cheek as Seonghwa starts pulling your hips again, "now, do what Yeosang asked. Don't disappoint our guests."

You nod, shakily bringing the joint back to your lips and taking a large puff.

"She really will do anything you ask, won't she?" Yeosang asks, eyes filled with lust and curiosity as he watches you finish off the joint.

Hongjoong only smirks in response while he takes the ending from your lips, tossing it to the ashtray. "Baby," he tilts his head, and you look to him immediately, "open your mouth."

You do so with zero pause, tongue rolled out.

Seonghwa and Yeosang curse in tandem, the latter pulling you faster along his bulge as the lewd gesture makes his cock twitch.

Hongjoong stands up, tilting your head back slowly to look at them, "spit in her mouth."

Yeosang's eyes widen slightly, "really?"

"Yeah, really. She'll swallow it like a good girl," he looks to you pointedly, silently telling you to make him proud.

You hum affirmatively, locking eyes with him as he leans closer; "you'll let me spit in your mouth while you grind on someone else's cock? All while your boyfriend watches?" You nod, immediately met with his hand gripping your face as he spits right onto your tongue.

All three watch in various degrees of awe as you swallow it quickly, tongue stuck back out with a soft, "ah."

"Fuck- sorry, Hyung," Yeosang mumbles quickly as he leans down and wraps his arms around you, yanking you from Seonghwa lap and making him groan. "My turn," he breaths out as he falls back onto the couch, settling you in his lap.

Hongjoong sits next to Seonghwa, patting his shoulder with a grin, "don't worry, she's got stamina. We'll all get to use her."

"You asshole, Yeosang," he huffs softly, resting his head against the cushion and watching your hips closely as you grind down on his exposed boxers; it's almost like he can still feel it if he thinks hard enough.

"You were taking too long, I want some of her too," Yeosang pouts, but he definitely doesn't mean it — not when you're rubbing your clothed heat over his cock so deliciously.

You whine quietly as your high from the last few long hits sneaks up on you; making you light headed, along with the pleasure you're getting from pressing your clit onto him.

"Feeling good, baby?" Hongjoong asks quickly, guiding your head to rest on Yeosang's shoulder. He leans to your level and smiles as you nod quickly, "yeah? Are you getting needy?"

"Yeah," you admit tentatively, grabbing Yeosang's biceps as he grinds up into you.

"Needy little slut," Hongjoong coos as he slides his fingertips down and slips your tank tops sleeves over your shoulders. "Lift her up, Yeosang."

He groans a bit, but then he sees his intentions and moves quickly. Standing up, he steadies you with a hand on your lower back; the other carefully holding your head to his shoulder after it rolls.

Hongjoong rubs your arms softly before pulling your shirt down to your hips. Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his legs as he watches closely, only able to catch a glimpse of your chest with the way Yeosang holds you upright.

"You're so wet," Hongjoong smiles at the evidence of how much you're enjoying yourself already, sliding all of your clothes down your legs in one slow pull; leaving you in nothing but your socks. "Come here, pretty, let me show you off~"

Yeosang pretty much falls back into his seat, eyes trailing every inch on your body wildly as Hongjoong rubs up and down your waist slowly.

"Good goddamn," Seonghwa whispers, swallowing thickly. "What the fuck." It doesn't really sound like a question, more of a way to express his disbelief as he soaks in every detail he can and commits it to memory — because there's no way he'd not be jerking off to this for years to come.

"Isn't my slut just gorgeous?" Hongjoong slips a hand to your cunt, cupping and squeezing it softly and making you gasp; grabbing at his arm for something to hold onto. "Needy little baby~" He giggles as you pout up at him beggingly.

"Please-"

Seonghwa stands up quickly, the simple sound of you begging — not even desperately or urgently — making his willpower completely disappear.

"You are such a tease, do you know that?" He says as he sandwiches you between them, suffocating you with his presence as he cups your jaw, still admiring your body. "Do you know how long I've wanted to fuck you? But, no, I just had to be a good person and not bend over my best friends girl." He meets your fuzzy gaze, slipping his hand under Hongjoongs as he grins; watching you both closely.

"R-really?" You ask shakily, feeling shrunken under his suddenly intense and dominant eyes.

"Dead fucking serious," he nods, slipping his middle finger into you and groaning as he feels around slowly; savoring the softness of your insides and making you tremble in the process. "I've jerked off to you so many times," he admits quickly, "thinking about how lucky Joong is, how he gets to fuck you. I know we all have."

"Maybe I'll invite them next time," Hongjoong purrs in your ear, massaging your breasts slowly, "would you like that? Each of my members getting a chance to feel that wet little cunt?"

"Yes-" You gasp as Yeosang sneaks up on you, gripping your jaw and turning you to look at him.

He looks from you to Hongjoong for a moment, and when he nods; Yeosang leans forward and kisses you. Messy, rough, completely overpowering your mouth with his and shoving his tongue between your lips.

You grab onto Seonghwa's side for stability as your legs wobble; another one of his fingers slipping into you. "Look at my messy slut," Hongjoong moans, grinding against your ass. When he catches your fingers raising shakily, he grabs Yeosang by his hair roughly; making him hiss. "Let her breathe," he says before pulling him to his lips instead.

He's a bit shocked at first, but he's quickly leaning into it; fighting against his tongue with his own.

You and Seonghwa both watch, and he can't help but giggle a bit. "God, I can't fucking believe this," he repeats his earlier sentiment.

"Hwa," you pant quietly, looking up at him with your chest heaving softly in Hongjoong's grasp.

His eyes widen a bit, nodding quickly. "What- what is it, are you ok-"

Hongjoong pulls away from Yeosang, looking at you with breakneck speed.

"Will you... maybe, eat me out?"

Hongjoong sighs with a laugh of relief, squeezing your chest almost affectionately. "Ah, you little fucker, you scared me."

"Sorry, Jo- ah!" You squeal as Seonghwa drags you away, throwing you onto the couch.

"Sit up," he rushes, pulling you up to face the wall before all but falling to the floor.

"Eager," Yeosang laughs, licking his puffy lips as he comes to sit next to you.

He lifts your hips and settles his face below you, moaning from the anticipation alone. "A-are you go-"

He cuts you off, "I'm gonna sit you on my face, yeah?" Before you have a chance to respond, he's pulling you down by your hips and holding you tightly while he lands a fat lick up the length of your cunt. "Oh, holy fuck..."

"Don't get addicted," Hongjoong warns him playfully, a hint of seriousness underneath. "She'll get you."

Yeosang chuckles as you grab the back of the couch; Seonghwa immediately licking all over your dripping pussy with an eagerness that makes you tremble. "You like that?" He hums, tilting his head and cooing when you nod quickly. "Yeah, I bet you do, slut~"

"Fuck-" You go to collapse onto the cushion when Hongjoong grabs the back of your neck and holds you up.

"No hiding, remember?"

"Sorry, sir," you apologize with a small whine as Seonghwa sucks on your clit.

"Can't take it anymore," Yeosang snaps as you utter the title, yanking his boxers down and groaning loudly. Grabbing your wrist, he drags your hand over to his hard length, "take care of this, all your fucking fault anyway."

"Mh, go on, baby," Hongjoong encourages you as you hesitate, going so far as to lean over and spit in your hand, "make him feel good."

It's hard to think of how to do that — with his grip on your neck and Seonghwa's tongue in your cunt and Yeosang's powerful gaze locked in on you and your brain entirely too high to process so much information at once.

"Hey," Yeosang notices you faltering and slaps you, gently; just harsh enough to bring you back to reality and listen to his more direct command, "jerk me off."

You swallow thickly, and you're still able to spit into your hand; letting it join Hongjoongs before you wrap your hand around his cock. His head falls back with the simple touch, a groan breaking in his throat as you slowly slide your hand up and down his length.

"You're doing so good, my dirty girl~" Hongjoong grins as he watches Yeosang slump from your attention to his cock — practically melting.

"Can I cum?" You look up at him, eyes wet and a pout on your lips.

"Awe, of course, you needy girl," he slides his hand around and grabs the front of your throat, choking you, "fucking cum all over Hwa's face, why don't you? Show him how nice it tastes."

You manage to give Yeosang a few more strokes before you have to let go, grabbing his arm and squeezing it tightly as you do just as your boyfriend says — cum all over his best friends face.

It's so intense that you lose all of the air in your lungs, a pathetic whimper all that you can manage as it washes over you.

Yeosang is shoving his bottoms off as he watches you, locking eyes with Hongjoong briefly before he snatches up your twitching form; leaving Seonghwa panting heavily and his face blissed out like he just came.

"Shit, you alive down there?" Hongjoong laughs, kneeling down and straddling his lap. "Told you she's slutty~"

He's completely breathless, grabbing onto him out of pure instinct and forcing him down to sit on his begging cock, "Joong, please-"

They both look over as you gasp; watching Yeosang push his fat tip into your cunt. He has you perched in his lap, head held to his shoulder once again, telling you, "take it." Before he slams his length into you with one rough thrust.

You scream into his shoulder, and Hongjoongs lips spread into a large grin as he registers your jumbled words. "Oh, fucking sweet hell! S'good!"

"Messy fucking fleshlight," Yeosang groans, gripping your hair tightly, "taking my dick no problem, so wet..." He closes his eyes, panting a few times while gathering himself.

"She's taking it all just like that?" Seonghwa asks in awe, hands still gripping Hongjoongs hips tightly.

"Course she is, my slutty little angel," Hongjoong reaches and smacks your ass; making both of you gasp, because the impact makes you clench around him.

"Fuck-" Yeosang curses with his jaw clenched, wrapping his arms around you tightly before pounding into you mercilessly.

You kick your feet uselessly, balling up his shirt in your fists as you moan into his neck; hiding your face there.

"Can you handle it, baby?" Hongjoong calls out, laughing along with Seonghwa as you quickly yell out:

"Fuck yes!"

"Good girl," he chuckles before looking back down to him, your arousal still gleaming on his chin. "Ah, she got you all messy," he says nonchalantly before leaning and licking up his chin, all the way to his lips; just hardly grazing the bottom one.

"Oh, fuck me," he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as Hongjoong laps up the rest of it before giving a small roll of his hips.

"That's her job," he giggles, sliding his hands up his chest, "unless you have something different in mind~" He whispers teasingly while wrapping his hands around his neck — just barely.

Seonghwa whimpers: the sounds of you getting pummeled next to him, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, Hongjoongs weight against his cock, his hands around his neck is getting to be too much.

"You pervert," Hongjoong chuckles as he tightens his grip, "you really do want both of us."

"F-fuck, so what?" He says shakily, blush creeping up his face as he hears you yelling for Yeosang to let you cum.

"So," he opens his eyes quickly as he feels Hongjoongs breath on his lips, finding him nose to nose with him, "maybe I'll make that happen if you make my girl happy."

"You will?"

His answer comes in the form of a kiss — not dominance fighting like it was with Yeosang, but not quite loving like with you. More... experimental. Testing the waters with each other.

Hongjoong abandons his lips as he hears you whimpering, looking over to you quickly. "Pretty?"

"He won't let me cum!" You wail, clinging to Yeosang's shirt like a lifeline. "Please, Joongie, tell h-him to let me!"

Yeosang laughs, breathlessly as he continues to practically beat up your insides with his thick cock. "Beg a little more, I'll let you~"

"Yeosang, don't be a jerk. Let the poor girl-" Seonghwa gets cut off when Hongjoong slaps a hand over his mouth, leaving him a bit flabbergasted.

"Baby~" He coos, holding back his own laughter, "I'm not in charge of you right now." He always is, and he continues to be even as someone else is using you like their toy. But he likes seeing you throw your little fits from time to time. And he wants to see how you handle it. "You'll have to do what Yeosang asks."

"Please, please, please-" You do so immediately, pushing yourself up on his chest only to be met with an indifferent stare; only a small smirk playing on his lips.

"You call that begging? Hongjoong has been too soft with you for how big of a slut you are."

"Sang, pl-" He pulls you off of him, leaving you whining and pouting for him to keep going as he throws you to lay across the couch.

"You'll learn how to really beg if you want it so bad." He flips you onto your stomach, pounding back into you the second you land.

You shove your face into the cushion as you cry, kicking your legs until he grips your hair and reels you up. "Try again."

"Please, I want to-"

"Wrong." He says before letting you go, pushing your legs open with his until one of them dangles off the edge next to Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Yeosang!" You scream, "fuck! Please, pretty fucking goddamn please! I can't hold it, I need to cum, sir-"

You keep on rambling your pleas, but you've already satisfied him — so he slips a hand under your hips and circles your clit. "Cum."

"J- Ah, thank you!"

The way you clench and tremble around him, the way you hide in the cushion as you moan; it all almost makes him cum inside of you before he remembers Hongjoongs threats before they even set foot in your shared space.

"Shit-" He gasps, pulling out quickly and crushing you to the couch as he sits on the back of your thighs, fisting his cock quickly as he watches the way you twitch.

Seonghwa is practically drooling as he watches Yeosang's cum splatter on the expanse of your back, Hongjoong just the same.

He holds your hip in a way that must be his attempt at comfort as you both just stay for a moment and catch your breath.

"You okay, sweet girl?" Hongjoong whispers, crawling out of Seonghwa's lap and kneeling next to your head as you sniffle. You hold your hand out shakily, opening and closing it quickly. "Awe," he takes it fast, lacing his fingers with yours, "little fleshlight got her brains fucked out after just one round?"

You nod into the couch, sniffling.

"You want to keep on going?"

Again, you nod.

"Atta girl," he giggles, rubbing the back of your head gently as Yeosang stands up.

He hesitates a second, but then he leans down and moves your head to look at him. "Thanks," he says before leaning down and kissing your cheek; earning himself a smile. "You d-" He clears his throat as his heart skips a beat, "you did really good."

"Say thank you, baby," Hongjoong says softly, taking the tissue that Seonghwa offers him and wiping up your back while biting his lip.

"Thank you, Sangie," you moan softly, pushing yourself up on your shaky arms before pointing at Seonghwa.

He points towards himself as well, finger to his chest, "me?"

"Your turn."

"You don't need a break, angel?" Hongjoong hands the soiled tissue to Yeosang, and he's disappearing further into the apartment. "D-"

"No," you giggle, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his chin, "I'm ready for more. Plus, Oppa won't be rough with m-" A yelp slips past your lips as Seonghwa pulls you to the floor, cupping your head as you fall to the hard wood.

"You have got to stop calling me that," he groans as he slots himself between your legs, holding himself up with one hand while the other guides his cock along your soaked slit; impatiently pulled out of his pants.

"Sorry, sir-"

"Fuck," he whines, eyebrows pressed together, "that's even worse."

Hongjoong chuckles, coming to sit by your head as he frees his length. "I think you're making him shy, baby," he leans and pecks your lips while fisting his cock, breathing in your gasp as Seonghwa slides into you slowly. "That feel nice, hm? Needy little fleshlight~"

Seonghwa gasps as you clench around him, leaning his head against your shoulder with a low curse. "Oh, fuck, you feel so good..."

Yeosang falls back onto the couch, turning his head to watch; his dick already half-hard in his boxers again. "Pretty slut," he whispers, to no one other than himself, but given the way Hongjoongs eyes flick to him; he figures he heard.

He did — and a sick sense of pride is in his chest as he looks between Yeosang's spent form and Seonghwa's blissful face. All because of you.

He leans down quickly, taking your lips in his more roughly. Cupping your cheek and pulling one of your hands to his hard length, holding his hand over yours and using it to jerk himself off all while Seonghwa starts thrusting into you with a testing pace. "Good fucking girl," he groans into your mouth, nipping your lips, "being such a well behaved slut for us. Keep it up for me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you pant out with a nod, feeling dizzy and being thankful that Seonghwa is taking you flat on the floor so his thrust don't throw you around as much as he picks up his rhythm. "I wa-want some cum, Joongie."

"Where at?" He grins wide as he hears Seonghwa moaning into your shoulder; clearly very into your neediness in your fuzzy state of mind if the way he grips your hips says anything, if the way he starts pounding you just as hard as Yeosang did says anything.

"Ah," you tilt your head back a bit, your back arching off the floor as he prods your g-spot, opening your mouth wide.

"Oh, in here, dirty girl?" He teases, sticking two of his fingers into your mouth and pressing your tongue down before spitting into it.

Yeosang slides down, already freeing himself from the confines of his boxers and grabbing your other hand to mirror Hongjoong; jerking himself off and spitting into your open mouth as you moan.

"We're going to give you some cum, and you better keep it in your mouth until Hwa is done using your little pussy, okay? You understand me?" Hongjoong asks with a soft slap, moving your hand faster along his length.

"Mmf," you pout as Yeosang grinds his leaking tip on your heated cheek, trying to tilt your head and take it into your mouth — when Seonghwa grabs you by the base of your hair and pulls you back down.

"He's talking to you, baby," he says lowly against your throat, nickname slipping without his permission or his realization. And the way it makes you squeeze him makes him want to do it again and again. "Where's your manners at?"

"Fuck!" You writhe as he stills after a harsh thrust, pressing against everything inside of you that makes you drool; strings of saliva visible in your mouth as you open it wide and hum a, "mhm!"

"That's better, that's a polite little slut," he moans before nipping at your sweat sheened shoulder.

Hongjoong eyes him for a moment, biting his lip as he tries to decide if he's okay with how he's behaving. Seonghwa's never had a dominant bone in his body. Maybe you're such a good sub that you've brought it out of him, or maybe he's just never had the chance to be in control of someone and it's giving him a high that rivals the drugs in his system.

Either way, Hongjoong decides he likes it, because evidently so do you — uncontrollable moans muffled as Yeosang shoves his cock in your mouth and fucks the pocket of your cheek.

"F-fuck," he whines quietly, Hongjoong the only witness to his moment of sensitivity because Seonghwa is drunk on your pussy, and you're... "God, you're so pretty." He can't help but let out his thoughts under the influence of the joint and the pleasure just as much as the two of you are.

You blink up at him with teary eyes, eyelashes starting to dampen.

"Isn't she?" Hongjoong coos, petting your cheek and pressing against it as Yeosang fucks into it, making all three of you moan with the chain reaction he creates: Yeosang cumming into your mouth, you moaning and clenching around Seonghwa to beg silently for him to make you cum, and him burying his face in your chest as he fucks you even harder.

"Don't swallow, you little fucker, I see you thinking about it," Hongjoong warns with a cocky grin stuck on his face as he takes Yeosang's place; the overstimulated man falling to sit next to you all as he catches his breath.

"You've got two more loads coming, angel," he pulls your head to the side, telling you, "suck. And don't let any cum out or you're licking it off the floor."

You whine, but you do what he asks, suctioning your lips around him tightly so none of Yeosang's cum can drip out before you bob your head slowly.

Seonghwa pants heavily, chest heaving against you as he stills — he's so close to his own orgasm but he doesn't want it to end yet. He watches you suck on Hongjoong cock with what can only be described as heart eyes; and Yeosang is the same.

"What's wrong, little love?" Hongjoong whispers mockingly as your tears finally start slipping from your waterline. "Can't breathe with all that cum and cock in your mouth?"

You nod, slurping around him as some of the cum threatens to drop.

"No?" He moves you to lay your head flat again, straddling your shoulders as Seonghwa sits up and watches over his shoulder; gasping a bit shocked when he pinches your nose closed and starts fucking into your messy mouth. "Now you can't breathe, stupid slut. Keep fucking sucking- make me cum unless you want to pass out and have us use your defenseless little holes like an actual fleshlight."

You grab his thighs tightly, sucking as best you can while Seonghwa starts fucking you again; unable to stop himself as he watches the lewd scene. "Goddamn, Joong," he groans, "you're so mean to her."

"She likes it. Likes being put in her place, right?" He lets go of your nose and lets you breathe heavily through it, still obediently sucking at him. "Besides, aren't you the one beating up her pussy right now?" He chuckles as he hears another groan from behind him over the slapping of skin. Carefully, he wipes the sweat from your brows and cradles your puffy cheeks.

"I'm going to cum, don't you dare spill any and don't you dare swallow, either," he warns shortly before doing just what he says; moaning and letting his shoulders slump as he spills all of his release into your stuffed mouth.

You pant through your nose as he pulls away, jaw dropping open to show them the white pool in your mouth.

"Fucking-" The words die out on Seonghwa's tongue, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you into his wild thrusts.

Yeosang licks his lips, eyeing you intently as you struggle to breathe with everything going on; lust still clear in his gaze.

Hongjoong moves off of you and swipes his hair back, taking a breath before he reaches down and circles your clit with quick and harsh movements, "cum for us, sweet girl~"

You choke as your pleasure breaks over you, gurgling and almost spitting the cum out before Yeosang leans quickly and slaps a hand over your mouth. "Keep it, baby. Taste us while you cum." Just like Seonghwa; the nickname flew out of his mouth without his consent or his knowledge — but Hongjoong catches it, and this time he doesn't hesitate to grin wide.

Your legs kick a few times before they fall uselessly, trembling as Seonghwa continues to fuck you through and past your mind-numbing orgasm while Hongjoong swirls his fingers on your messy clit.

"Oh, fffuck," Seonghwa moans, hands sliding up to your stomach and groping you, "ah, I want to cum so bad..."

"Not inside of her," Hongjoong warns quickly. No matter how much he's willing to share — he is the only one who gets to fill your pussy like that.

"G-god, I know," he says just as fast, hips stuttering and jolting into you like a wild animal, "but she practically beg-begging for it~ You're so. Fucking. Lucky." He growls between his teeth with a rough thrust to emphasize each word before suddenly pulling out; leaving you a trembling puddle as he climbs up your body hastily.

"Move," he grips Yeosang's wrist and pulls it away, opening up your messy mouth with a grip on your jaw. "Fucking hell," he gasps, jerking himself off quickly as you stare up at him with a dazed and content glaze in your eyes.

A little bit of his cum lands on your cheek before he places his tip in your mouth, biting back his whimpers as you suck on it. Hongjoong leans over and swipes it up; spreading it on your lips, "here we go, baby, none of it goes to waste."

Yeosang has to blink out of his daze to catch Seonghwa as he falls back, laughing as he pulls him to sit with his back against the couch. "Sweet fuck," he pants while tilting his head back.

"Swallow now, pretty girl," Hongjoong whispers, planting a kiss to your cum slick lips as you gulp. There's so much of it — you have to swallow a good three times before you can open your mouth and finally draw in some deep breaths. "Perfect~"

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and gently sits you up, making you whine, "Oppa, you j-jerk."

They all chuckle at your small pout, and Seonghwa looks down with a large smile, blush still bright on his cheeks. "Sorry, you just felt so good..."

"C'mon, little angel," Hongjoong says with a giggle, wrapping your arm over his neck to pull you up.

"I'll carry her, Hyung," Yeosang says quickly, jumping to his feet. Seonghwa is a little slower, still heavy with his bliss.

"Uh," Hongjoong hesitates, looking to you, "are you okay with that, love? He can carry you faster than me."

"Yeah," you groan, desperate for your comfortable bed and some love from your boyfriend. "Thanks, Sang," you sigh with relief as he scoops you up bridal style, leaning your head on his arm.

"No problem," he smiles down at you, feeling something a little too close to affection bubbling in his stomach and looking back up quickly. "Here we go," he sets you down slowly, scanning your body one more time, "thanks for... yeah." He kisses your cheek quickly before shuffling away quickly, giving Hongjoong a small bow as he passes.

Seonghwa comes up next, hand instinctively cupping your jaw as he leans down and kisses you softly. Short, simple, and sweet. "Thank you, baby," he whispers gently, stroking your cheek with his thumb like he's savoring the feeling of your heated skin, "you were so good for us."

"Thanks, Hwa," you lean up and peck his lips once more before he turns; smiling and nodding to Hongjoong as he heads to the door.

Hongjoong snatches up his wrist, devilish grin on his lips, "I think you made her happy." He says simply, but it carries something deeper when Seonghwa remembers his earlier words.

"Yeah?"

He nods, "maybe... this could be a regular thing. If she l-"

"Absolutely," you moan sleepily as you snuggle up ontop of your blankets.

They share a small laugh, peeking over at you. "Well, the princess has spoken," Seonghwa jokes like his heart isn't about to beat right out of his chest.

"We'll talk about it later, yeah?" Hongjoong slides his hand down his arm as he passes, climbing into the bed with you and pulling off his disheveled clothes. "Let me take care of my girl."

Seonghwa watches for a moment before he snaps back into his body, leaving the room and closing the door with a giant smile on his face.

"Are you okay, sweet love?" Hongjoong hums as he tenderly moves you onto your back, leaving a trail of soft kisses down your cheekbone to your lips. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No, I'm okay, Joongie," you smile beneath his lips, eyes blurry and gleaming with your submission. So deep in your subspace that you'd do anything and everything he asks of you. And all he asks is —

"Will you let me show you how much I love you?"

You nod, of course you do; spreading your legs so he can lay between them. Both of you completely nude, he hugs you close and melds your bodies together.

"I'm so proud of you, pretty," he groans into your ear as he slides his cock into you. Your sore walls clenching and twitching to say 'no more' but you only sigh softly and melt under him, holding him tightly as he sets a slow and loving pace.

"You are my perfect little fleshlight, aren't you? Take so much for me, make me feel so good — make my friends feel so good. Shhh, shhh~ No tears, angel," he kisses them up before you even notice them falling, shushing you softly.

You feel vulnerable and exposed after it all, and at the very same time you feel completely safe in his arms. "H-hold me tighter, please?"

"Of course," he quickly complies, squeezing you in his arms. "I got you, my sweet girl," he leaves one more kiss on your teary cheek before pressing his forehead against yours, noticing your eyes flicking around. "Hey, focus on me- there you go~ There's my pretty baby~"

You breathe heavy against his lips, eyes locked on his as he continues his slow thrusts, "f-feels good?"

"Feels so fucking good, love," he assures you immediately, "nothing in the world compares to my girl." He smiles as you do, giggling breathlessly as he plants another round of kisses across your face.

"Can you- fuck," you lose your train of thought as quickly as it comes, hips twitching under his as you whine.

"Slow, baby," he hums, kissing his way down your neck and sucking softly. "Tell me what you want, take your time."

"Can you please cum inside of me?" You plead, almost pathetic in the way you tear up at the thought of him saying no.

"Of course, I can- that gonna make you happy?" He hugs you tighter as your back arches, squeezing your chest to his.

"So happy," you gasp, fingers wrapping up in his hair to ground yourself.

"Don't worry, love, I'll give it to you," he chuckles quietly before latching onto your neck and sucking hard enough to leave a mark; something nobody else will do to you — not on his watch.

"Cumming, cumming!" You wail as it creeps up on you and blankets your entire being, smothering you in pleasure so hot and intense that you're full on sobbing by the time you come back to your body.

He groans deeply from the tight grip you have on his hair; the one you don't even notice, thrusting a few more times to fuck his cum into you before he all but collapses. He rolls to his side, dragging you along with him and immediately tucking your head under his chin to cradle you to his chest.

"Shhhh, you're okay," he hums, holding you tightly and moving slowly to drape a leg over your hip; pulling you even closer. "Pretty girl."

He's more than happy to keep sharing, keep showing you off — but nobody gets to see you like this.

So soft and vulnerable, so fragile as he holds you through your sobs.

"My pretty girl."

"how’d you even get in here?" you mutter, trying to sound annoyed instead of painfully aware of how close he is.

"your mom let me in, duh," he says, grinning up at you like he’s won something. "she loves me."

"she has terrible taste," you shoot back, but there’s no real bite to it. beomgyu knows it, too, because his grin only widens.

without asking, he snatches your phone right out of your hands, thumb already swiping through your notifications like he has every right to. "who’s texting you?" he asks, squinting at the screen. "is this junho? since when do you talk to junho?"

you lunge for the phone, but he holds it just out of reach, laughing when you half-climb over him in your attempt to grab it. "give it back, you nosy loser—"

"make me," he taunts, wiggling the phone above his head.

you huff, resorting to digging your fingers into his side, right where you know he’s ticklish. beomgyu yelps, jerking away, but in the chaos, your fingers brush against the bare strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up.

the second you make contact, his whole body tenses like he’s been electrocuted. his breath hitches, just barely, and his cheeks go pink. not just a little flushed—full on, unmistakably red.

you freeze.

beomgyu, who’s always the one invading your space, who slings an arm over your shoulders without thinking, who leans into every casual touch like it’s nothing, just short-circuited because you touched him.

and oh.

oh, this is interesting.

a slow, dangerous grin spreads across your face. beomgyu’s eyes widen like he already knows what’s coming. "what?" he asks, voice slightly higher than usual. "why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?" you ask innocently, letting your fingers trail lightly over his waist again, just to see what happens.

he jolts, nearly falling off the bed. "hey!"

you can’t help it. you laugh, delighted by this newfound power. "what’s wrong, gyu? you’re always all over me. can’t handle it when it’s the other way around?"

"shut up," he mumbles, but he’s not meeting your eyes anymore, his ears still burning.

and just like that, a game is born.

because if there’s one thing you love more than anything, it’s messing with choi beomgyu. and if there’s one thing he apparently can’t handle?

it’s you.

it starts as a game—just harmless teasing, really. you don’t even mean for it to become a thing. but the way beomgyu reacts every single time your fingers accidentally brush his skin, or when you lean just a little too close under the pretence of looking at his phone screen—it’s addictive. like poking a sleeping bear and watching it startle awake, all clumsy limbs and flustered noises.

at first, you tell yourself you’re just doing it to annoy him. payback for all the times he’s invaded your space without permission, flopped onto your bed like he owns it, stolen bites of your food with that infuriating smirk. but then you notice the way his breath hitches when your knee bumps his under the table. the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach back whenever you "fix" his collar, your touch lingering a second too long. the way his voice goes just a little higher when you whisper something close to his ear, like you’re sharing a secret.

it’s fascinating.

beomgyu, who’s always been the clingy one, the one who drapes himself over you without a second thought, suddenly can’t handle it when you initiate contact. and the more you test it, the more obvious it becomes that he’s not just flustered. he’s affected.

so you escalate.

you start "accidentally" letting your hand rest on his thigh when you’re sitting side by side, pretending not to notice the way his entire body goes rigid. you lean against him more than necessary when you’re tired, tucking your face into the crook of his neck just to feel the way his pulse jumps under your lips. you play with his hair while he’s trying to focus on something, twirling the soft strands between your fingers until he groans and swats at your hand, his cheeks pink.

and the best part? he never stops you.

he complains, sure. he whines and calls you annoying and shoves at your shoulders halfheartedly. but he never actually pulls away. if anything he leans into it, like he’s trying to prove he can take it, like he’s determined not to let you win.

which is how you end up here: beomgyu sprawled across your lap like an overgrown cat, his head heavy on your thighs as he scrolls through his phone. you’re both supposed to be studying, but neither of you has opened a textbook in at least an hour. instead, you’re absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you know makes him melt.

he’s trying so hard to act unaffected. but you can see the way his fingers have slowed on his screen, the way his breathing has evened out like he’s fighting not to sigh.

"you’re like a dog," you murmur, grinning when he cracks one eye open to glare at you.

"shut up," he mumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it.

you hum, dragging your nails gently down the back of his neck, and there—the full body shiver he tries (and fails) to suppress. you bite your lip to keep from laughing. "you good?"

"you’re the worst," he mutters, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t even try.

you’re about to tease him more, maybe poke his side, just to see him squirm, when suddenly, his hand shoots up and catches your wrust. your breath stutters.

beomgyu’s grip isn’t tight. it’s not rough or demanding. but the way his fingers circle your wrist, warm and firm, sends a jolt down your spine. your pulse jumps under his thumb.

for a second, neither of you moves.

then beomgyu tilts his head back to look at you, and—

oh.

his eyes are dark. not playful, not exasperated. just intense, in a way that makes your stomach flip.

"you’ve been messing with me all week," he says, voice low.

your throat feels dry. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."

he raises an eyebrow. "really."

"really," you say, but it comes out breathier than you mean it to.

beomgyu holds your gaze for a long, long second. then, slowly, he tugs your hand down—not away, but closer, until your palm is pressed flat against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, rapid and unsteady, under your fingers.

"then keep going," he challenges, voice barely above a whisper. "since it’s nothing."

your brain short circuits.

because this—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. he’s supposed to blush and sputter and shove you away like always. not dare you. not look at you like that.

your fingers twitch against his shirt.

beomgyu’s lips curl into a smirk. "what’s wrong?" he taunts, echoing your words from earlier. "can’t handle it when i push back?"

oh, it’s on.

you lean down before you can second guess yourself, your nose brushing his as you stop just short of his lips. his breath catches. "who said i was stopping?" you whisper.

beomgyu’s grip on your wrist tightens.

and then—

your mom calls your name from downstairs, and the moment shatters.

beomgyu jerks back like he’s been burned, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste. you yelp, grabbing his arm to steady him, but he’s already scrambling upright, running a hand through his hair like he can’t believe what almost happened.

"i—" he starts, then stops, his ears burning red. "we should—your mom’s calling."

you stare at him. he stares back.

then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

beomgyu groans, covering his eyes with one hand. "don’t."

"don’t what?" you ask, all innocence.

"you’re insufferable," he mutters, but he’s peeking at you through his fingers, and his lips are twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

you kick his shin lightly. "you love it."

he doesn’t deny it.

the thing about beomgyu is that he's always been tactile—always reaching for you, always in your space, always treating your personal boundaries like mild suggestions rather than actual rules. lately it’s gotten worse, with every touch feeling like something more. like there's electricity humming just beneath his skin, sparking where your fingers brush against him. and you can't stop poking at it, can't stop testing the limits of this new, fragile thing between you.

it's been days since the almost-moment on your bed, days of careful avoidance and pointed teasing and lingering touches that neither of you acknowledge. and now here you are, curled up in your room watching some b-list horror movie because beomgyu had whined until you gave in, his eyes doing that stupid, pleading thing you've never been able to say no to.

"this is so dumb," you mutter as the protagonist on screen wanders into yet another obviously haunted room. "why would anyone—"

"shhh," beomgyu interrupts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you're ruining the atmosphere."

"the atmosphere of what? bad cgi and worse acting?"

he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you've wounded him. "you take that back. this is cinematic gold."

you roll your eyes but don't protest further, settling back against your pillows. beomgyu shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours, warm and solid. you try to focus on the movie, you really do, but it's hard when he's right there, smelling like laundry detergent and that stupidly expensive cologne he pretends he doesn't carefully pick out. when he's close enough that you can see the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the dim light of your laptop screen.

then—

a sudden, earsplitting shriek comes from the movie, a grotesque face filling the frame, and you're lurching sideways before you can think, fingers digging into beomgyu's arm as you let out a startled yelp.

and beomgyu—

beomgyu squeaks.

it's high pitched and undignified and absolutely ridiculous coming from someone who spends half his time trying to act cool, and for a second, you're too stunned to even process it. then the sound registers, and you're turning to stare at him, mouth already opening to tease—

but the words die in your throat.

because beomgyu is frozen, his breath caught, his eyes wide and dark and fixed on you. your fingers are still wrapped around his arm, your nails pressing crescent moons into his skin, and you can feel the way his pulse jumps under your touch. the air between you is thick, heavy, the silence stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

your own breath stutters.

beomgyu's gaze drops to your mouth, just for a second, so quick you might have imagined it—but you didn't. you know you didn't, because your heart is suddenly pounding loud enough that you're sure he can hear it, your skin buzzing where you're touching him.

then—

the moment shatters.

beomgyu clears his throat, jerking his arm away like he's been burned, his cheeks flushing pink. "you—you scared me," he mutters, avoiding your eyes.

you blink. then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face. "i scared you?" you echo, leaning closer. "beomgyu. you squeaked."

"i did not—"

"you did," you crow, poking his side. "like a—like a mouse or something—"

beomgyu groans, covering his face with his hands. "oh my god, shut up—"

"a tiny, terrified little mouse—"

"i will end you," he threatens, but there's no real heat behind it, not when he's peeking at you through his fingers, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile.

you laugh, bright and loud, and something in beomgyu's expression softens, his shoulders relaxing as he drops his hands. "you're the worst," he grumbles, but he's leaning into you again, his arm pressing against yours.

"you love me," you sing-song, nudging him with your knee.

beomgyu doesn't answer. just rolls his eyes and turns back to the movie, but you don't miss the way his fingers flex against his thigh, the way his breath hitches when you shift closer.

the movie plays on, the tension between you easing back into something familiar, something comfortable. but beneath it all, beneath the teasing and the bickering and the easy touches, there's something new. something fragile and unspoken and achingly sweet.

and you can't wait to poke at it some more.

the moment your selfie goes up, you know it's trouble. not because there's anything particularly scandalous about it—just you in your favourite going-out top, hair styled a little more carefully than usual, lips shiny with that gloss beomgyu always says smells like candy. but something about the angle, the way the light catches your collarbones, the hint of a smirk playing at your mouth—it feels dangerous. like you're dangling bait in front of a very specific, very excitable predator.

your phone vibrates in your hand before you can even set it down.

beomgyu: ???? beomgyu: where are you going looking like that

the message burns through you like a live wire. you can practically hear his voice—that particular tone he gets when he's trying (and failing) to sound casual, the way his pitch jumps just slightly when he's flustered. your fingers fly across the screen before you can think better of it.

you: why? you wanna come with?

beomgyu: thats not— beomgyu: i was just asking bro

you bite your lip to keep from grinning. the three dots appear and disappear three times before you finally get:

beomgyu: ...are you meeting someone?

there it is. that tiny crack in his usual bravado. you're about to respond with something suitably teasing when your doorbell rings, an insistent, impatient buzz that could only belong to one person.

when you swing the door open, beomgyu is standing there looking unfairly good for someone who supposedly rushed over on a whim. his hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends like he just showered, and he's wearing that stupid tank top that shows off his arms, the one that makes your mouth go dry. in his outstretched hand dangles your charger—the one you're 90% sure you didn't leave at his place.

"you forgot this," he announces, pushing past you into your apartment and into your bedroom, like he owns it. the scent of his cologne, something warm and expensive that clings to all your hoodies after he wears them, fills the space between you.

you raise an eyebrow as you shut the door. "did i?"

"yes," he says, too quickly, already making himself at home on your bed. "you're so forgetful. it's a miracle you function without me."

you don't call him out on the obvious lie. instead, you lean against the doorframe and watch as he tries (and fails) to look casual, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his thigh. the neckline of his tank top slips slightly with every movement, revealing more of his collarbones than strictly necessary.

"so," he says, eyes scanning your outfit with poorly concealed interest, "where are you going?"

"nowhere special," you say, moving to sit beside him. the bed dips under your weight, forcing his knee to bump against yours.

"then why do you look like that?"

"like what?" you lean in closer, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches.

beomgyu's throat works as he swallows. "like... like you're trying too hard."

you gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "rude. maybe i just wanted to look nice."

"for who?"

the question comes out sharper than he intended, his fingers twitching against the pillows scattered on your bed. something warm and pleased curls in your stomach at the possessive edge in his voice.

before you can answer, beomgyu suddenly flexes his arms, his biceps straining against the thin fabric of his sleeves. "you see this?" he says, grinning that stupid, cocky grin that makes you want to kiss it off his face. "this is what peak performance looks like."

you roll your eyes. "please. i could bench press you."

his eyes light up with that competitive gleam you know all too well. "oh, you wish."

"prove it."

the challenge hangs in the air for all of two seconds before beomgyu grabs the nearest pillow and smacks you square in the face with it. you shriek, more out of surprise than actual pain, and immediately retaliate by grabbing another pillow and swinging with all your might.

beomgyu blocks it effortlessly, laughing as you growl in frustration. "weak," he taunts, dodging your next swing. "come on, is that all you've got?"

in a flash of inspiration, you toss the pillow aside and lunge at him instead. beomgyu's eyes widen comically as you collide with him, sending you both tumbling across the mattress in a tangle of limbs. you end up straddling his hips, immediately going for his most vulnerable spots; his sides, just above his hips, where you know he's ticklish.

beomgyu shrieks, actually shrieks, his whole body jerking beneath you as he dissolves into breathless laughter. "s-stop—fuck—" he gasps, trying in vain to squirm away, but you've got him pinned, your fingers dancing mercilessly along his ribs.

"give up," you demand, grinning down at him.

"never," he chokes out between laughs, his face flushed pink, his hair a wild mess against your cushions.

you're both laughing so hard it hurts, the sound filling your apartment, and for a moment everything feels perfect. light. easy. like this is exactly where you're both meant to be.

then you realise.

your hands are splayed across his stomach, his abs flexing beneath your touch with every ragged breath he takes. his own hands have somehow found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric of your top. the warmth of him seeps into you, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, and suddenly you're hyper aware of every point of contact between you.

because—

oh.

oh no.

beomgyu is hot. like, stupidly, unfairly hot. the kind of hot that makes your mouth go dry and your thoughts scatter. his lips are parted as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. the muscles in his arms are taut where they bracket your thighs, and suddenly all you can think about is how badly you want him to choke you.

before you can finish the thought, beomgyu moves.

in one smooth motion, he flips you over, reversing your positions with embarrassing ease. your back hits the plush mattress of your bed, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your pulse skyrocket. then his arm slides around your neck in a playful, but surprisingly firm chokehold, his biceps flexing against your throat.

your mind whites out.

your mouth, unfortunately, does not.

"god, that feels so good," you moan, the words slipping out unbidden, your voice embarrassingly breathy.

beomgyu freezes.

you freeze.

beomgyu stumbles back like you’ve just set him on fire, his entire face burning so red it’s a miracle he hasn’t spontaneously combusted. his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, his hands flapping uselessly at his sides as he chokes on air. you’ve never seen him like this—beomgyu, who’s always so loud, so obnoxiously confident, reduced to a stammering, malfunctioning mess because of you.

your own heart is hammering so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t burst out of your chest yet, but the longer he stands there looking like his brain has short-circuited, the more the initial panic starts to melt into something dangerously close to amusement. because god, he’s such a loser. your loser. and before you can chicken out, before you can backtrack and play it off like a joke, the words are tumbling out of your mouth—

“i think i like you.”

beomgyu’s jaw drops. like, actually drops. his eyes go comically wide, his entire body freezing like you’ve just hit him with a stun gun. for a second, you’re terrified you’ve broken him completely, that he’s going to turn around and bolt out the door and never speak to you again. but then—

“what?” he chokes out, voice cracking embarrassingly.

you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed. “you heard me.”

“i—no, say it again.”

“no.”

“please.”

“beomgyu—”

he makes a noise that’s half-groan, half-whine, dragging his hands down his face before pacing across your room like a caged animal. his fingers keep tugging at his hair, his breathing uneven as he mutters to himself, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, smoke nearly coming out of his ears from how hard he’s thinking.

you should probably be more nervous, but mostly you’re just endeared. and a little annoyed.

“you’re freaking out,” you point out, trying to sound casual even though your palms are sweating.

“yeah, no shit,” he snaps, spinning to face you with wild eyes. “you can’t just—you can’t just say that and expect me to be normal about it!”

“i didn’t expect anything! i was just—”

“just what? just casually dropping the bomb that you like me after moaning when i choked you—”

“oh my god, shut up—”

“no, because what the fuck—”

you groan, flopping back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. this is a disaster. a nightmare. you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, should’ve played it off like a joke, should’ve—

“i like you too, idiot.”

your hands drop.

beomgyu is standing at the foot of your bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks still flushed but his gaze steady now. your breath catches.

“...what?”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “i like you. like, like like you. have for—fuck, i don’t even know how long.” his voice drops, softer now. “i just didn’t know how to deal with it. thought you didn’t see me that way.”

you sit up slowly, your pulse roaring in your ears. “...are you serious?”

“yes, i’m serious,” he mutters, looking away. “you think i’d be this much of a mess if i wasn’t?”

you stare at him. he stares back. the silence stretches between you, thick and charged, until—

you burst out laughing.

beomgyu’s face does something complicated, caught between offence and confusion. “why are you laughing?”

“because you’re such a disaster,” you wheeze, wiping at your eyes. “all this time, and you were just—god, you’re pathetic.”

“excuse me—”

“you heard me.”

he growls, actually growls, before closing the distance between you in two long strides. his hands cup your face, rough but gentle, and then his lips are on yours—hot, insistent, perfect.

you melt into it immediately, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him back with all the pent up frustration of months of pining. beomgyu makes a noise low in his throat, something between a whimper and a groan, his grip tightening as he nips at your bottom lip. you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

his hands roam your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are warm, calloused from playing guitar, and the way they dig into your hips sends shivers down your spine. you arch into him, pressing closer, and he lets out this noise—this pathetic, whiny little sound that goes straight to your core.

you freeze for half a second. “bro, you good?” you whisper, half teasing, half wrecked yourself.

beomgyu groans, hiding his face in your neck. “do i look good?”

“fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

beomgyu pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and shiny. “you—you’re killing me,” he whines, his voice wrecked already.

you grin, dragging him back down. “good.”

he kisses you again, messier this time, his hands sliding up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. he’s terrible at it, his fingers clumsy, and he groans in frustration when he can’t get it undone.

“help me,” he mumbles against your mouth, his cheeks burning.

you laugh, reaching behind you to undo it for him, and the way his eyes darken when he realises what you’ve done is priceless. his hands slide up your bare back, his touch hesitant at first, like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this.

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice shaky as his fingers trace the curve of your spine. “fuck, you have no idea—”

you cut him off with another kiss, rolling so you’re straddling his hips. his hands immediately fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. you grind down experimentally, and the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers dig into your skin—god, you could get addicted to this.

“please,” he whimpers, his hips jerking up involuntarily. “please, i—fuck, i can’t—”

you lean down to nip at his earlobe, grinning when he shudders. “can’t what?” you whisper.

“you know what,” he groans, his hands sliding up your thighs. “you’re evil.”

you laugh, kissing him again, slower this time, savouring the way he melts under you. when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing ragged.

“fuck, fuck—” he’s babbling now, his usual eloquence completely gone as he kisses down your neck, your collarbones, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin. “you’re—shit, you’re so pretty, i can’t—fuck—”

you tug at his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him properly, swallowing his desperate noises. his hands are shaking where they grip your thighs, his breath coming in ragged pants against your lips.

“beomgyu,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “you’re such a mess.”

he groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “you did this,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your skin. “you turned me into this.”

you hum, running your fingers through his hair. “and you love it.”

he lifts his head just enough to glare at you, but there’s no heat behind it—just fond exasperation and so much want it makes your chest ache. “yeah,” he admits, his voice rough. “i really fucking do.”

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he sighed hearing the commotion coming from the outside of his office door. “again?” the bear hybrid sighed. “there she goes again.” yuta the cheetah hybrid sat in his office. “how many johns are you gonna gun down in the club over the little bunny?” johnny stood up. “how many johns are gonna have to be gunned down until they realize the bunny isn't available?”

you were the first bunny ever to work at the infamous club run by notorious mafia and bear hybrid johnny suh; you were also the first bunny johnny ever had in his bed. johnny took a quick liking to you , both professionally and unprofessionally — giving you your weekly wage , plus a bit more for being such a good girl the night before.

to say that it came with problems was an understatement. once the news spread that infamous mafia hybrid johnny suh hired a cute new bunny hybrid to work at his club , his club became a new attraction for horrible hybrids who didn't have the same respect for prey hybrids like he did — they'd come in and let's just say a few of them didn't end up leaving.

“the bunny hybrid is a server not a dancer.” he said. “come on johnny, if you didn't hire the bitch bunny so we could have some fun , why is she here?” he really fucked up now. “ah you johns never learned to you?” johnny laughed to himself. “i said let her go.” the tiger hybrid growled, trying to intimidate the man. “don't tell me this bitch bunny has you going soft now?”

it all happened so fast; but you were used to it , johnny losing his temper and pulling out the glock he kept on his hip at all times , pulling the trigger before the guy could pull his. you shrieked , blood covering your body. “johnny.” you turned to him. “you messed up another one of my dresses.” he sighed. “seriously , my office now.”

“i told you , you stay behind the bar.” he said once he reached the office , the club cleared out already. “i was behind the bar.” you said , he scoffed. “yeah and how'd you end up pressed against the front of the bar?” he closed the door , locking it. “i'm losing customers.” you scoffed. “i don't ask you to shoot them.”

“yeah little bunny you're right , i can't help that.” he said , his hands resting on your shoulder. “this is why i told you to quit this job and let me take care of you , you can be my little stay at home bunny.” he said with a cheeky, you scoffed. “i like working here.” you said. “no you like stressing me out.”

he sat you down on the desk; standing in between your legs. “you have blood on your face.” he said wiping your cheek. “that's your fault.” he chuckled. “yeah it is.” he said , unzipping your pants. “let me apologize to you.” spreading your legs even more.

and that's how it always ends; you spread out , nose twitching as the bear pounded into you — it was a bit morbid , johnny killing people in your honor turning you on , but you couldn't help it , something about him being protective over you made you want to jump his bones. “fuck johnny!”

it amazed johnny how you always took his cock; the way your tiny cunt squeezed him , almost pushing him out sometimes , he knew you were too tiny , but you took him like a champ everytime. “tiny bunny.” he grunted. “always so pliant and ready to take my cock , even though it almost breaks you every single time.” his hands bruising your hips. “you're so wet , me killing people turns you on , doesn't it little bunny.”

you nodded , nose twitching. “y-yes johnny.” he groaned as you clenched around him. “sh-shit , you gonna cum bun.” he grunted. “cum for me little bunny.” his hand coming up to your bunny ears , scratching the sensitive spot. “oh fuck johnny , i’m cumming!” you screamed. “fuck.” he growled. “fuck gonna breed this little pussy , give you a cub.” you moaned , “please cum inside me.”

his cock twitched inside you , releasing himself inside your waiting womb. “fuck.” he dragged out. “fuck , i'm still cumming.” he laughed breathlessly. “you always bring out the worst in me baby.” he kissed your lips. “yeah?” he nodded.

“yeah you do little bunny.”

You hated parties.

You hated parties because they were loud, because spaces with that many bodies on top of each other were too suffocating, because men always tried to hit on you with boozy breath and wandering eyes.

Now you hated parties because they made your boyfriend want to stick his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Jaehyun had managed to destroy nine months within three minutes – that’s the length of time you’d convinced yourself you’d spent standing there, unable to avert your gaze from the horror unfolding in front of you. Three whole minutes that he hadn’t even noticed your presence, too preoccupied. Too focused on kissing this random girl like he had something to claim, as if you weren’t enough. And worst of all, he hadn’t even cared enough to bring it somewhere private. They were in a corner of the living room, tucked away but not hidden. It had only taken a little bit of squeezing between partygoers and quick apologies to make your way to them. 

They had gathered a crowd, too. A few spectators, voices meant to be whispers – drunk people can’t seem to mind their own volume. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” 

“Nah, I just saw her getting a drink.” 

“Shit…she’s gonna be so pissed.”

At least the alcohol hadn’t made them completely brainless. You were, in fact, pissed. There was the unmistakable heartbreak too, but you weren’t going to let anyone see that. Instead, you blinked back your tears and cleared your throat to make sure the words didn’t get stuck. Each step you took towards him made it more real, until you were close enough that you knew he could hear you over the raging music.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss, far from an actual question. Your voice still broke on the last word, and you hoped he hadn’t noticed. As soon as he registers that it’s your voice, his girlfriend, Jaehyun tries to push the girl away, feigning disgust. It’s almost pathetic in a way, his little act. 

“Shit, Y/N,” he curses. “I didn’t mean to – fuck, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just – ”

He stumbles on his words as if his mouth wasn’t working perfectly fine just seconds before. When he tries to inch towards you, you step back, refusing to allow him the comfort. 

“You’re fucked, Jaehyun,” you say flatly. That’s as much of your energy as you would give him, at least for now. He’d embarrassed you enough by kissing another woman in the middle of a party; you decided against escalating your humiliation by shouting at him and causing a scene. You turn on your heels and begin pushing through bodies again, away from him, and you can tell he’s following. You can hear your name, barely reaching your ears but definitely there. 

Once you make it out of the most concentrated pool of people, he staggers soon after and latches onto your wrist. The same fingertips that used to run across your skin so gently now felt like betrayal and poison. 

“Let me go,” you snap. His grip loosens slightly, but he still holds you there, determined to defend himself. 

“I fucked up, I know, but please just hear me out,” he begs, as if he has the right to. His excuses are the last thing you want to hear right now, and you know that’s all they would be. Stupid excuses for a stupid “mistake,” and it makes you sick to even think about listening to him explain why and how he ended up making out with another woman in the corner of a party he asked you to go with him to.

“No! Fuck you, seriously,” you spit, words laced with venom you prayed would hurt him even a fraction of the way he hurt you. 

And perhaps they did, or at the very least stunned him, because he drops your arm entirely. Now, you take the final steps towards the door, reaching for the handle. He tries to follow you again, unsatisfied, unrelenting. “And if you follow me out this door, I promise you I’ll never speak to you again.”

That stops him in his tracks. Maybe gives him some hope that if he just lets you cool off for the night, you’ll let him explain in the morning. Regardless of how he perceives it, you lunge at the opportunity to escape, finally making it out the door and into the crisp night air. It hits your skin viciously, your skirt and halter top offering little protection from its bite. You’re cold, heartbroken, and, worst of all, not even nearly drunk enough to mask it. 

Without the vivaciousness of the party, you can only see Jaehyun kissing her in your mind, can only hear the hushed whispers of the onlookers, replaying on a torturous loop. You’d only made it down the steps of the house before the tears began to fall. Now you let them, assuming you were away from prying eyes. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed someone standing right next to the door while you and Jaehyun had your little spat. A certain someone who would get far too much enjoyment out of such a scene. You had been followed once more, but this time not by your stupid cheating ex boyfriend, but by his equally as stupid “rival.” It was still a mystery to you why they hated each other, and at this point, you didn’t care at all to find out.

“Those were some harsh words,” he chuckles, and you don’t even need to turn around to recognize the voice. The same way you don’t need to turn around to know he’s smirking. You hurriedly wipe your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup; the last thing you need is him to see you crying, another thing for him to derive sick pleasure in. You wouldn’t dare grant him that.

Because it was an unspoken relationship rule that an enemy of your partner is an enemy of your own. So, for no real reason other than the fact that Jaehyun hated him, you hated Bang Chan. 

“Fuck off, Chan,” you snarl, quickening your pace. It doesn’t matter, since he catches up to you in a few short strides. “Why the hell did you even follow me out here?”

He steps in rhythm with you, making it clear he had no intentions of leaving. Not until he got what he wanted, whatever that may be. The satisfaction of seeing you broken? The chance to remind you how shitty Jaehyun is and how great he is? You aren’t sure, but you keep walking anyway.

“I just didn’t expect to hear you say such things to your boyfriend,” he answers. His emphasis of “boyfriend” makes you both angry and repulsed, then bitter and devastated. Nine months of your life gone in minutes, and now you had the displeasure of dealing with Chan on top of it.

You scoff and finally stop, turning to face him for the first time. His eyes twinkle with something devious, and it infuriates you. “He’s not my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

“Oh?” he draws his head back in shock. He’s silent for a moment, and you fold your arms across your chest, glaring at him in a way he finds cute more than intimidating. “I’m surprised you two lasted this long, actually. Figured it was about time for Jaehyun to do what he does best.”

You blink at him incredulously, his careless words cutting deep. There’s no reason anything he says should bother you, but there’s something about it that stings. And Chan notices, too, watching your entire face shift from rage to sorrow. Your features soften in a way he’d never seen before – you’d only ever looked at him with hatred and annoyance – and it deflates him. 

“I don’t know why you two don’t get along. Seems like you should be best friends – you’re both fucked up,” you retort quickly, though it comes out as a strained whisper. 

Chan hates being grouped with him, especially in your mind where Jaehyun now seems to be synonymous with evil. He never expected to be giving you of all people an apology, but he figures he needs to. For his own consciousness, of course. Definitely not because he felt an odd pang in his chest when you looked at him with something other than disdain for once.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. Are you alright?” he asks cautiously. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see someone roll their eyes, but when you do, he swears he feels ten times lighter. Your hostility he could navigate, but your sadness was uncharted territory; he was glad to be back to familiarity. And since you hadn’t walked away from him yet, he takes the chance to dig deeper. “What did he do?”

“Like I’d want to talk to you about it. Just give it a few hours, you’ll hear about it from someone, I’m sure,” you shrug, trying to pretend that you’re unbothered. That you don’t care that you’ll likely be the talk of campus, the woeful ex-girlfriend people will look at in that pitiful way they look at small, broken things. 

As much as you hate Chan, you’re grateful he isn’t looking at you like you’re small or broken. He’s looking at you the same as always, like you’re a challenge, a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved. Maybe that’s why you decided to keep standing there, holding more of a conversation with him than you’d likely ever had before.

“Probably. But I want to hear it from you. So tell me, what happened?” he asks again.

He doesn’t say it with demand or snark. It sounds almost unsettlingly genuine. It sounds like someone that isn’t Chan, or at least the Chan you’re familiar with. You hesitate, conjuring up another smart remark, but you let it die in your throat. 

“He fucking cheated on me. He was making out with some girl in front of everyone. Can you believe that?” you chuckle sarcastically, forgetting who exactly is standing before you. “Nevermind…I’m sure you can believe it. God, I’m so stupid.” 

“No, you’re not stupid,” he says adamantly. “He’s stupid. An even bigger idiot than I thought, actually.”

It angers him more than it should that you’re degrading yourself over Jaehyun’s horrible decisions, and he has a fleeting thought of going back and telling him off for it. And as the thought passes, he can’t understand why. He knows you hate him. He knows you have likely been fed lies and half-truths by Jaehyun for months. He knows he shouldn’t care about any of this. He can’t seem to figure out why he does. 

“I just can’t get that image out of my head. It’s making me sick,” you mumble, and it replays all over again. The ear-splitting music, the crowd, his lips on hers, that look on his face when he saw you. All your emotions bubble back up to the surface and come out as a loud groan, though internally you just want to scream until your throat is raw. “I wish I could make him feel even half of what I feel right now.”

The idea that pops up sounds ridiculous in his head and likely even more so said aloud, but his mouth opens before he can stop himself. “Well, maybe you could,” he trails. 

“I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I’m actually a good person,” you sneer. “I would never cheat.” 

He laughs dryly and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, awaiting an explanation. “Believe me, I know you’re just a perfect princess,” he mocks, and you’re certain if you roll your eyes any harder they’ll get stuck like that. “But who said anything about cheating? Besides, you’re not together anymore,” he reminds. “And there’s only one thing I can think of that would drive him just as mad.”

You’re intrigued now, though doubtful there’s anything that could reflect the same level of hurt you currently felt. Anything rational, at least. Still, you wanted to hear whatever silly idea Chan had, if not for your own amusement. 

“Which is what?” you question.

“Being with me,” he answers, too quickly, too plainly, as if it was something entirely normal and not an absolutely insane statement. When your eyes widen, he continues, waving his hands urgently to indicate you had gotten the wrong impression. “Okay, not for real, Jesus. Like faking it, you know? Just for him to see and lose his mind.” 

That was quite possibly the last thing you expected, and you’re forced to laugh at the absurdity of it. You wait for him to join in, to tell you he was joking just to fuck with you. That would have been the Chan thing to do. Instead, he stares at you, a half-smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re insane,” you scoff. 

“Is it that insane?” he says smugly, poking his tongue in his cheek. “Think about it, imagine how pissed he’d be seeing us together.”

For a moment, you can’t help but realize how attractive he actually is. It’s not that you hadn’t noticed before – you had perfectly functional eyes – but now being single and also inches away from him, it was an unavoidable fact. It made you almost begin to consider his idea. Almost.

“Yes, it’s insane! Just because I gave you five minutes of my time on a shitty night doesn’t mean I want to talk to you ever again, let alone pretend to date you.”

“Oh, Princess Y/N gave me five minutes of her precious time, thank you so much,” he quips, and this time he’s the one to roll his eyes. “Whatever, I gave you a guy’s perspective on how to get back at him. You’re not gonna get any better revenge than that.”

“And what do you get from it?” you ask, certain there must be some mutually beneficial aspect beneath it. There’s no way he would suggest something so outlandish without thinking of his own gain, and you know that’s true when he grins wickedly.

“Just the satisfaction of seeing his face when he realizes he lost his girl to the one person he hates more than anything.”

You aren’t sure why you hadn’t grasped that from the beginning. All Chan wanted, as always, was to get under Jaehyun’s skin, to take something of his, to win. The idea is still crazy, and far more theatrical than you’d usually approve of, but you’re a lover scorned.

Then, you think back to the unspoken rule, the sole reason and origin of your hatred for Chan. Jaehyun hadn’t even followed relationship rule number fucking one: don’t cheat on your girlfriend. So, you figured you could break some rules and allow some theatrics.

“Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll fake date you or whatever,” you huff, trying to ignore his triumphant smirk. “But nothing weird, alright? And once it’s all over, we go back to hating each other.”

He throws his hands up like it’s offensive you’d even insinuated it. “Believe me, that’ll be no problem,” he agrees.

“Good,” you say simply, a forced tight-lipped smile on your face.

“Good,” he repeats.

The silence that falls over you two is uncomfortable, only disrupted by the sound of the wind lifting leaves along the sidewalk and the faint thumping of music. You can still see the house down the road, and it makes you wonder if Jaehyun is still inside and if he went right back to her. Suddenly, you feel the need to get home and cry in the shower with your carefully-curated sad music playlist. 

 “Well…I’m gonna go back to my dorm now,” you finally speak, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

“I’ll walk you,” he offers without a second thought. 

You can’t help the way you exhale a little too harshly. Truthfully, you just wanted a short walk on your own to process all of the nights’ events, including the proposal you’d just accepted. And you had already spent more time than you’d like with Chan for one night (although you know you’ll have to spend much more now).

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t think we need to start the whole fake dating thing right now,” you reject bluntly. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, trying to stop himself from saying the wrong thing. He’s just trying to do a nice thing, the right thing, but you have a way of getting under his skin. The next few weeks are surely going to be a challenge. “It’s not for that, Y/N,” he sighs. “It’s late and dark out. Just let me make sure you get home safe, please?”

The roads are lit only by streetlights and the moon shining above, and you shiver from both the chilly air and the thought of making the walk to your dorm alone. You’d expected to be going home with Jaehyun, definitely not on your own in the middle of the night. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly. “But can we just walk in silence? Not really in the mood to talk anymore.”

You deliberately exclude that you feel like if you keep talking, you’re going to break. You’d kept a relatively strong front – far stronger than you thought you’d be after being cheated on – but it was slowly crumbling. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that kept your emotions contained, because now everything was slowing down and soaking in. 

“Sure,” he nods, following closely behind when you turn and begin taking steps forward. Your dorm is ten minutes away, and you walk side by side, arms occasionally brushing against each others. You only make it about two minutes in before he stops, shrugging off his jacket. Then, he holds his hand out, gesturing to it when you stare dumbly. 

“Here,” he offers. “You’re freezing.”

There’s no denying that he’s right, but that didn’t mean you were going to wear his jacket. You could survive a few more minutes of the cold, even though your skin was covered with goosebumps that hadn’t gone away since you’d first left Jaehyun at the door. “I’m not wearing your jacket, Chan,” you shove his hand back. 

Before you can start walking again, he drapes it around your shoulders, ignoring the glares you send his way. 

“Do you always have to be this stubborn?” he groans. “You’re literally shaking, but God forbid you wear my jacket.”

You click your tongue and pull your arms through the sleeves anyway, mumbling a grudging “thank you.” The newfound warmth was a great comfort, and you’re so wrapped up in it you don’t notice the way he steals short glances over at you. His eyes drag down your body, drinking in how his jacket sits on your shoulders like it belongs there. How the sleeves fall past your wrists and the hem lines your thighs, still mostly exposed from your skirt length of choice. How you look good wearing something of his.

And then he curses himself for even thinking it, tearing his eyes away even though he really doesn’t want to. He clears his throat loudly, awkwardly, trying to ground himself, and you look over wordlessly. Any words you were going to say get caught in your throat when you notice how muscular his arms are now that they’re no longer covered. 

Still, neither of you speak again, both thinking silent thoughts that you’d never let the other know. Once you arrive at your dorm building, he walks you all the way to your door despite your protests, muttering something about you being stubborn yet again. 

“Thank you for walking me home,” you force out, gratitude sounding like exasperation. Your back is pressed against the door, hand wrapped around the handle. All you want is to throw yourself in bed and sob and sleep at this point, but Chan’s presence keeps you in the hallway.

He nods, combing a hand through his hair, wondering when it became so difficult to think of the right words to say to you. “Try not to think about him too much tonight, alright?” he sighs. “I know that’s hard, but just try to get some sleep or something.”

Such gentle advice sounds odd coming from his mouth, and he waits for your sarcastic reply. Counts on it, actually. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, you smile at him weakly, telling yourself you simply don’t have the mental capacity to go back and forth with him anymore. Not that you were actually hating him a little less. 

“I’ll try,” you assure. “Oh, yeah. Here.” 

You pull off his jacket, the one that had begun to feel a little too comfortable, and fold it over your arms towards him. 

“Keep it. You can wear it around or whatever,” he suggests indifferently. It would make your fake relationship more believable, but beyond that, it would appeal to that small part of him that enjoyed seeing you in it. 

Fuck, what had gotten into him?

“I won’t,” you sass, bringing the jacket back to your chest anyways. 

He runs his tongue along his teeth, chuckling. “Of course you won’t. So stubborn.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop being that,” he shoots back.

Seemingly, you’d met your match. Someone who could keep up with your quick retorts, your mouthiness. And it came in the form of a man your ex boyfriend hated, a man you hated. You weren’t sure why that made it all the more exciting for you. 

His gaze lingered, a curious glint in his eyes. He was trying to piece you together bit by bit, but you were a more difficult puzzle than most. 

“Have a good night, Chan,” you say, finally turning the handle. When the door swings open, he finds himself looking around unintentionally, another opportunity to figure you out. He can see a few plushies on your bed, posters lined on the walls, and framed photos he can’t quite make out. There’s probably some of you and Jaehyun, and he hopes those are long gone by the next time he ends up at your dorm.

You slip inside hastily, and he realizes he’d been too engrossed in examining your room to respond. The door comes to a close in front of him.

“Yeah, you too,” he breathes out when you can’t hear, standing there just a few moments longer.

Once inside, you wait to hear the sound of his footsteps padding away, and when you do, you crack. The pictures of you and Jaehyun sit on your bedside dresser, mocking you, and you slam them down against the wood. You’re partially inclined to throw them against the wall and hope they shatter, but you don’t particularly feel like cleaning up glass shards through tears. 

At least you let the teddy bear he gifted you stay on your bed, unharmed. An innocent soul caught in the crossfire, a child of divorce even. 

“Fuck Jaehyun, fuck parties, and fuck this whole night,” you curse, though it comes out in choked sobs. And fuck Chan, your brain wants to say, but you bite it back. He had walked you home, given you his jacket…and become your fake boyfriend (soon to be, anyways) within the span of thirty minutes. Still, he was annoying, arrogant, impossible-to-deal-with Chan.

 As much as every fiber of your being yearned for the soft comfort of your bed, you trudge to your bathroom and start the shower, making sure to put on your playlist while the water warms. Because if you were going to be heartbroken, you were at least going to be heartbroken while listening to Cigarettes After Sex.

After thirty minutes of crying and scrubbing your body of any traces of Jaehyun, you finally step out and decide to check your phone for the first time since everything had completely unraveled. Apparently getting cheated on was all you needed to reduce your screen time, so maybe that was a positive?

Naturally, there’s a few texts from people you could hardly consider friends but would now act like you were with feigned sympathy, full nosiness. Among them, however, is a text from a number you hadn’t saved.

y/n? 

who’s this?

I’d say the guy you hate the most but i think someone else might’ve taken that spot

Chan. It was almost impressive that he managed to sound annoying even through texts.

ha. and how’d you get my number…?

I asked someone for it. you think they’ll take the bait?

they’ll probably just think you’re a freak who goes for recently heartbroken girls.

Nah. that’s not really my type.

oh yeah? what’s your type then?

You watch as the typing bubble pops up and disappears a few moments later, and then nothing. Minutes pass and you assume he’s leaving you on read, and that’s fine. It’s late, anyway, and after such a thorough cleansing and crying session, you’re exhausted.

So it’s no surprise when your phone buzzes again just as you manage to get comfortable in bed. 

Just because that’s not my type doesn’t mean i have a type

“Liar,” you mumble to yourself. Whatever, it’s not like you care who or what he’s into. In fact, you’re glad he didn’t answer. Who knows what kind of weird things he’d come up with, if not just to irritate you. 

okay, boring

What about you then? what’s your type?

You’re torn between giving him a genuine answer or something along the lines of “basically the antithesis of you.” Then, you realize you can probably do both at once, since you don’t consider Chan to align with any of your dating criteria.

i like someone who’s warm, attentive, and can make me laugh. someone who notices the little things, too

Yeah, definitely not Chan. But then again….

That can’t be right. i mean, you ended up with jaehyun

Also not Jaehyun. That was something you could admit now, but it was different coming from someone else. Like you were the only one who couldn’t see the flaws, the incompatibility. You feel stupid all over again, trying to ignore the way your throat began to tighten once more.

i’m going to sleep.

Hahaha Aw man. i was having fun.

goodnight, chan.

Goodnight princess

The nickname might’ve been a term of endearment from anyone else, but from Chan, it was a thinly veiled taunt. You save his contact with a very fitting eyeroll emoji just to spite him, finally drifting off to a surprisingly peaceful sleep soon after. 

“What an asshole,” Jihyo hisses. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, you know I would have ripped into him.”

With all the craziness of the night, you hadn’t even thought to text any of your friends. It was one of the rare times none of them could make it out with you, and now you were being inundated with questions over lunch.

You wave her off, poking at your plate idly. “It’s fine, I promise,” you sigh. 

“Has he texted you today?” Mina asks, glancing down at your phone on the table. You look down too, half-expecting to see another flurry of messages from Jaehyun – he’d already sent about twenty since the morning, all going unanswered. 

“Yes,” you groan, unlocking your phone and passing it to the two girls for them to read the same desperate pleas you’d been spammed with. They scroll through, mouths slightly agape. “Should I answer? I’m worried he’s gonna end up showing up at my dorm if I don’t.”

“Here, let me answer,” Jihyo says, and you reach over and snatch the phone out of her hands before she can type. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve whatever insults she’d send his way, but that you worried any response would entice him at this point. 

To satisfy her, you finally text him back, telling him to leave you alone and that you would let him know when you were ready to talk. You truly had no idea when that would be, but any more silence from your end would inevitably have him tracking you down on campus. 

Then, you remembered the other half of the night, the part where you agreed to fake date the same man your friends had heard you complain about more than once. There was no way you were going to keep that from them, nor would you be able to, but you weren’t even sure how to approach the subject. 

Hey, by the way, I’m pretending to date that guy I hate. For the revenge plot of course.

“There’s actually something else that happened last night,” you begin, studying their reactions. They wait expectantly, eyes wide with curiosity. “Chan heard us arguing and we…talked a little.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds like Chan. He basically feeds off of Jaehyun’s misery,” Jihyo chuckles.

Mina catches onto the end of your sentence, the words you had said just a little too quickly and quietly. Intentionally so. “What do you mean you talked? You can’t stand him.”

Now, both girls are staring at you, disbelief etched on their faces. You and Chan had never talked. You insulted, glared, and mocked. Talking? They weren’t even sure you two were capable of holding a conversation without spitting names at each other.

“It’s stupid…” you trail. “He had this idea, and…I don’t know, I guess I just agreed to it because I was so angry and emotional.”

You’re stalling, obviously, and they’re growing more impatient with each delayed sentence.

“He suggested we pretend to be together to get back at Jaehyun.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Jihyo laughs, a full-body laugh that has tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Mina just blinks at you, unamused. “Y/N! You can’t make me laugh like that while I’m eating, you know,” Jihyo scolds, still releasing occasional giggles.

“You’re not joking,” Mina says flatly. “Are you?”

Realization strikes both their faces when you don’t answer, swirling your straw around absentmindedly. Next comes their looks of disapproval. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you groan. But what did you expect? You had just thrown into question a fact they knew more concretely than grass being green or the sky being blue: you hate Chan. So did your need for revenge trump your hatred, or was your hatred truly never that deep after all? They suspected the latter – they always did, especially when you would go on about how insufferable he was while eyeing him from across a room.

“Like what? Like you’re crazy? Because clearly, you’re crazy,” Jihyo whisper-shouts.

“And with Chan of all people, seriously?” Mina adds. 

Okay, neither of them were wrong, but they’d also never been cheated on to understand all the complex thoughts and feelings you’re experiencing right now. And yes, with Chan, because the plan simply wouldn’t work with anyone else (nor would anyone else be stupid enough to go along with it). It just had to be your ex boyfriend’s worst enemy.

“I know it’s crazy and you know I’d never agree to something like this, but – ” 

“ – but she just couldn’t resist me,” someone interjects from behind you. Then, he throws himself next to you, leaning back against the table on his elbows.

You aren’t sure how long he’s been there or how much he heard, though you guess not much since one of them definitely would have warned you. Either way, add his stupidly good timing to the list of things that piss you off about him. 

He hadn’t texted you in the morning –  not that he was supposed to, or that you expected him to –  and it almost made you wonder if the whole night was a fever dream. Evidently not, seeing as he was sitting a few inches away with a wide grin plastered on his dumb face.

“Are you stalking me across campus?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He huffs out a hollow laugh. “You wish. You guys sit in the same spot almost every day.”

Is he right? Yes. Does it make sense for him to know that? Not really. Unless he’d been paying more attention to you than you thought, which also didn’t make sense. 

“Okay, so you’re not stalking me,” you conclude. “Just watching me.”

“Why does it have to be you? There’s two other lovely ladies here.” 

“Ew,” Mina says.

“Don’t be gross,” Jihyo adds.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, though Chan is unamused. You want to poke him further, to find out why he knows the specific time and place your friends typically eat lunch, but you decide to save it for another time. Especially since those two are sitting right across from you and would hang onto every stupid thing he says, pestering you about it later. 

Chan spins forward, now facing Jihyo and Mina. “Do you girls mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?”

“I mind,” you scoff, but he ignores you entirely.

The two girls look at each other suspiciously, knowingly. Then, Mina shakes her head, basically sending you off to your demise (another uncomfortable walk with Chan  – two in less than twenty-four hours has to be considered cruel and unusual punishment). “Sure,” she shrugs. “We were just finishing up, anyways.”

Were you, though? The conversation hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down until he arrived. 

With the approval of your friends, not yours, he clasps his hand around yours and stands up, trying to bring you with him. You can’t move, you can’t function at all with his hand holding your own, and once it hits you, you yank it away from him. 

And then you stand anyway, as if your body was betraying you and doing everything your brain said not to. 

“I hope you don’t plan on hurting her, too,” Jihyo cautions, an unspoken threat behind her words. 

Her intentions are sweet, but you can’t help but feel the need to chide her for making it seem like you two are actually together.

“I’m not going to cheat on her, if that’s what you’re implying,” he jeers, picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, princess, you’re the only fake girlfriend in my life.” 

He must think he’s so funny, putting on a show in front of your friends, but you’re not laughing. However, Mina and Jihyo are. Snickering under their breath, actually, and probably going to gush all about this odd interaction after you leave. 

The three of you exchange goodbyes, Chan already walking away from the table. You have to take larger strides to catch up to him, and when you do, you reach for your bag, trying to pry it from his arm. 

“Is it going to kill you if you let me be nice and carry your stuff?” he huffs, readjusting the strap. 

“It might,” you glare, but you can tell he’s not budging, so you resign. You wait for him to speak, to offer an explanation. Instead, he scans your face like he’s looking for something beneath the surface. “Is there a reason you took me from my friends just now?” 

“Are you okay?” he asks, answering your question with…a question? So. Annoying. 

But it sounds sincere coming from him, unlike how everyone else had asked you since last night. You can tell the difference now between girls who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with Jaehyun, guys who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with you, the complete randoms who asked just to be in the know, and now…this. Someone who genuinely wanted to know if you were okay, nothing more, nothing less, no underlying motives. 

“I’m alright,” you shrug, “just numb, I think.”

He swallows hard, then nods. And suddenly the Chan you recognize is back. “Well, you look good for someone who just got cheated on.”

Maybe the compliment would have felt good if he hadn’t tacked on the last part. You had enough reminders throughout the day, so much so that your phone had been on DND for hours. And the reminders came in other forms, too, like your lonely walk to your first class in the morning, the one Jaehyun would always accompany you on. Or the song that came on shuffle that you two had once added to a shared playlist (which you now had sole custody of). 

“Do you know how to give an actual compliment?” you snap, already knowing the answer. Chan would probably drop dead before he complimented you. 

“So you’d rather I just say you look good?” he questions.

Yes, yes you most certainly would. But there was no way in hell you would tell him that and make him think his words actually mean something to you. You can just picture his smug look of satisfaction already. 

So you lie through your teeth.

“No.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, carefully mulling over what he says next. “You do though. Look good, I mean,” he states matter-of-factly. And to your surprise, he doesn’t drop dead afterwards. 

What should you say in return? Thank you? No, that implies you’re appreciative, grateful he complimented you, which you aren’t. You look good too? Absolutely not, unless you want to have him use that against you for the foreseeable future. Ew, don’t say those things? You’re not even sure you can feign disgust like that. 

You end up not saying anything at all, but your face says a lot. Too much. It heats up and your cheeks dust with red, a far worse response than any of the others you’d contemplated. 

“Aw, you’re blushing,” Chan teases, bumping against your shoulder lightly. “Getting all shy on me, where’s that smart mouth?” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and then you realize you’ve been following him blindly for the past minutes. You see that he’s led you to the heart of campus, the vast field of green where couples, friends, and classmates alike all congregate. He heads straight for a bench, pulling you down next to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“When’s your next class?” 

You don’t answer.

“You took me away from my friends to bring me here?” And then you look around, convincing yourself everyone’s eyes are on you. “People are staring.” 

He looks over at you, your bag now acting as a barrier between your bodies, and quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, well, newsflash, princess. We’re doing this so they do get the wrong idea,” he reminds, tucking your bag by his side. With the new space, he hooks his arms around your thighs and shifts you towards him, pulling your legs onto the bench and draping them over his lap.

“Chan!” you hiss, trying to move, but he holds you there. 

If you thought people were staring before, they must be drilling holes through you now. Realistically, you’re just being dramatic  – everyone is too entrenched in their own problems, their own conversations, their own world to really notice you. But you know people will talk, because that’s what people do, especially when it involves two individuals who are quite well-known on campus. 

“Relax. The more obvious we make this, the quicker people will see, the quicker Jaehyun will see. And then it can all be over, right?” he explains, and you huff in response. You sit there like that long enough that it becomes comfortable, his fingers tapping idly on your leg while he scrolls on his phone. At the same time, you trace mindless shapes onto the bench, pretending you weren’t melting into him slowly. 

No.

Being like this with Chan shouldn’t feel this normal, and you refuse to accept that it does. So, naturally, you have to say something to ruin it. Almost like an innate reflex.

“I should’ve just stepped out in a revenge dress, but nooo, I had to agree to your stupidity,” you mumble. He laughs, and then his face contorts to something more serious.

“You have a revenge dress?”

He says it hopefully, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. 

“If I do,” you begin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “you’ll never get to see it.”

His entire body deflates, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself off of him. You had a class across campus to get to and also needed a serious mental debrief to process the last twenty minutes. He hands over your bag, lifting off the bench as well. “Do you want me to like, walk you to your classes and stuff?” 

“Nope,” you decline easily. “Unless you’re willing to walk me to my 8:30 on Tuesdays.” 

It’s supposed to be a joke, and he must know it because he scoffs, shaking his head like you’d just said the most egregious thing ever. You laugh and start in the direction of your class, the feeling of his body so close to yours still lingering.

The weekend comes and goes quickly, with you swearing off any more parties for the time being despite Mina and Jihyo’s pleas. They both mention something about alcohol and loud music being the perfect remedy for a break up. But you already only really went to parties to appease your friends (and Jaehyun, previously), who dubbed them an “essential part of the college experience.” Now, you had the perfect excuse not to. Even Chan texts you to ask if you’ll be going out, though he doesn’t have nearly the same level of disappointment as your friends when you say no.

Instead, you spend your days clearing your camera roll of pictures of your cheating ex boyfriend and boxing up all the things of his you no longer wanted to have in your possession. Maybe you could get Chan to burn it all for you (except for the teddy bear, of course). 

And then Tuesday morning rolls around and there’s an incessant knocking on your door, which is not only irritating but unusual, given the time. You’re in the middle of getting dressed when you answer, top half still in a tank top, bottom half in jeans. 

This person is about to feel all your morning wrath, until you blink a few times and register that it’s Chan of all people.

“What the hell?” 

“8:30, right?” he confirms, leaning against the doorframe. 

You fold your arms across your chest, resisting his charm as best as you can. “That was a joke,” you groan, opening the door wider. “I’m not done getting ready and it’s gonna look weird if you’re waiting outside.”

He steps inside happily, immediately noticing the now barren space on your dresser. You had gotten rid of the pictures, good. He also recognizes his jacket draped along the back of your chair in a way he knows you’ve worn it, or at least moved it recently. It hangs off a little unevenly, one of the sleeves wrinkled in on itself. 

“Yeah, because it’ll look so much better if we come out of your dorm together at eight in the morning,” he chuckles while you walk into the bathroom to change shirts in peace.

“Don’t even think like that,” you shout. Then, you walk out, throwing the tank top at him (which he catches, unfortunately), feeling emboldened. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t fuck you.”

The smirk on your face is wiped away immediately when he grabs your wrist as you bend down to reach your bag. “Yeah? Do you know that?” he whispers. His whole demeanor shifts, gaze intense, grip strong but not painful. You attempt to force out a stammered reply, but admittedly, you’re flustered. Your own body is a traitor, clearly. 

Thankfully, he releases your wrist and breaks the tension with a devilish laugh. “You’re so easy to fuck with,” he says, sounding completely like his usual irksome self. 

Now that you had a glimpse of a different, enticing side of Chan, you craved more and hated yourself for it. After all, you had just said you would never fuck him. And you wouldn’t. 

But can’t a girl just think about it?

You grabbed your bag successfully this time and slipped on a pair of shoes, heading out the door with him right behind. 

“So why did you do this, exactly?” you question, still fighting off sleep yourself. 

“When I commit to something, I go hard,” he explains, though it sounds like a double entendre. “So if we’re going to fake date, I’m gonna be the best damn fake boyfriend you ever had.”

How wonderful. You thought you were agreeing to get revenge against Jaehyun, not to fuel Chan’s ego. Maybe you’d need another fake boyfriend down the line just to knock him from the top spot.

“Well, good thing we probably won’t need to keep this up for very long. I’ve already had people text me asking what’s going on between us,” you click your tongue. “No Jaehyun though.”

“Poor guy’s probably losing his mind thinking his fuck-up made you realize you had repressed feelings for me all along.”

“Oh, I had feelings for you?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “That’s how my story goes, anyways.”

When you make it outside, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you just a little bit closer. And now that you understand there’s no reasoning with him, you let him. It’s too early to argue, anyways, but you still roll your eyes where he can’t see. 

“God, you’re insufferable. Can’t even give me some dignity in our fake love story,” you sneer. 

“Okay, fine, I had feelings for you,” he relents, and for a second, it sounds like a fact, not a fabrication. “That sound better?”

You hum in approval, satisfied with the change. Whether he would actually follow through with it, you weren’t sure. 

“So, are you gonna stay cooped up in your dorm this weekend, or are you going out?” Chan wonders, seemingly forgetting why you didn’t want to go to another party in the first place. They were kind of ruined for you at the moment, especially when you never really enjoyed them to begin with. 

“I’m put off of parties for a while,” you wave your hands. “And I need to study, anyway.” 

He squeezes your shoulder, displeased with your answer. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t let him ruin your fun,” he urges.

It was too late for that, though; all “fun” had been sucked out the moment you caught your boyfriend sucking face, and you knew he would probably be there, too. Just because he was playing the regretful, devastated ex in your texts didn’t mean he was depriving himself of his favorite pastime. You wouldn’t even be surprised if one of his “please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I miss you so much” texts had come while he was balls-deep in another woman.

“I’ll have plenty of fun in the library, thank you,” you shoot back.

“Oh? In public? Wow, princess, I didn’t know you were into stuff like that,” he grins, and you shove his arm off of you, staring at him in disgust.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking freak!”

“I’m the freak? You’re the one that’s going to – ”

“Chan. Stop talking.”

“Okay, okay,” he throws his hands up defensively. “But just so you know, I don’t judge, and if you want some company…”

Fuck this smug bastard, and more importantly, fuck the way he was starting to get into your head. 

The rest of the walk is relatively normal, at least in the sense there’s no more talk about public sex, and you reach your class promptly at 8:28. 

“Well, have a good day,” he says a little awkwardly. “Let me know when you’re planning on grabbing lunch?”

“Unlikely,” you scoff, leaving him open-mouthed as you head inside.

So how you end up with Mina, Jihyo, and Chan at your usual lunch spot, you’re not sure. 

“You guys missed it. Then she goes ‘fuck you, Jaehyun!’ and he looked terrified,” Chan laughs, and your friends join in, loving the cheater lashings. 

“He did not look terrified,” you correct. 

“She’s being modest. Even I felt a little intimidated,” he draws in a sharp breath, “but it was kinda hot, too.”

You’re not sure where that came from, and you kick his foot under the table where Mina and Jihyo can’t see. In return, he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing. 

“You guys sure you’re faking this?” Jihyo questions, her chin resting on her hand while her eyes flicker between the two of you. Like she would be able to figure you out if she just looked hard enough. Impossible, considering you couldn’t even figure out what was going on at this point. He was still annoying, painfully so, but he was also alluring, and the heat between your legs was starting to do most of the thinking.

“Yes,” you and Chan say simultaneously, almost rehearsed. 

“Right,” Mina nods, drawing out the word. “As long as you believe that.”

His hand moves now, rubbing along your thigh softly, and you have to grit your teeth to not snap at him. “I do believe it, because it’s true,” you say harshly (but not convincingly). “I’d rather drink a jean jacket through a fucking straw than actually date him.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop his wandering hand; in fact, it only pushes him further, now sliding lower until his fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh. You shift awkwardly, keeping your eyes locked on your friends. You wouldn’t let him see that he was undoing you. 

“I’m not particularly fond of you either, but a jean jacket through a straw is insane,” he smirks, finding enjoyment in your fidgeting. 

“Then I guess it does a good job of conveying how much I can’t stand you.”

This time, you do snap your head towards him, eyes shooting daggers into him. They gave a silent warning, a threat he didn’t quite think you truly meant. After all, your body had a different message with the way your thighs clenched and shoulders stiffened. 

“So sweet, isn’t she?” Chan smiles sarcastically, drawing his hand back. And you’re grateful – at least, that’s what you tell yourself, ignoring the small voice that said you wanted more. He reads something on his phone before typing quickly and rising from his seat. 

“Anyway, thanks for the invite Y/N, but Minho’s locked himself out of the apartment, so I’ve gotta swing by before class,” he sighs dramatically.

“I absolutely didn’t invite you.”

“Sure you didn’t,” he winks, already gone before you can argue. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Jihyo groans, covering her face with her hands. “God, I think if I’m subjected to that level of sexual tension again, I’ll actually pass away,” she huffs, muffled. 

Bad time to take a sip of your drink. 

“Sexual tension?!” you repeat, nearly choking, completely stunned by her words. 

“We weren’t sure of it when you were with Jaehyun, but now it practically radiates through the air whenever you’re around each other. It’s suffocating,” Mina agrees, only adding to your embarrassment. Your face is heating up quickly, and it makes it hard to deny their accusations. 

“Can you just hate-fuck and get it over with? Maybe you’ll find out you actually do get along in some ways,” Jihyo adds, exasperated. 

You laugh dryly. “Oh my god, do you guys hear yourselves? I’m not having sex with Chan, that’s disgusting.”

“Well then can you two at least not make lunch feel like the build-up of a porno?”

Needless to say you would be informing him he could not join you and your friends for lunch anymore, lest you get lectured again on your “radiating” sexual tension. 

By the time Friday comes, things have quieted. Chan listens when you tell him Mina and Jihyo requested your lunches stay reserved for the three of you (it’s not quite true, but the best excuse you could come up with without mentioning that your friends think you two want to fuck each other). So, you don’t see him much, aside from the couple of times he shows up outside your classes.

His texts, however, are frequent. They’ve developed into something expected, a normal part of your days. You talk about mundane things like grades and annoying lab partners. You talk about personal things like favorite songs and future goals. Each conversation is still filled with sarcastic quips and quick insults, but they don’t hold the same edge they once did. It felt more like comfort – like if you kept up the hatred act, you could protect yourself from what it was becoming.

And at the same time, the texts from Jaehyun had resumed because, although he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he had heard that you and Chan were seen together. On multiple occasions. He had even shown up at your dorm finally (the week of freedom you’d had was far longer than you’d expected), and you had slammed the door in his face, telling him it wasn’t any of his business who you hung out with anymore. 

After that encounter, you were grateful for some peace – which was becoming rare in your life – throwing yourself nose-deep in your notebook. With your headphones on and such intense focus, you don’t notice anyone else’s presence.

Until someone makes their presence impossible to ignore. 

“Hey, princess,” Chan greets, a cup of coffee in hand. He slips into the seat in front of you, placing the cup down and sliding it over. You have to pull your headphones back to hear him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

He shrugs. “You said you were studying, I thought I would bring you some coffee to help your brain.”

He says it so calmly, and you have to fight against the way your heart swells at the simple act of service. Though really, it wasn’t so simple, because this was Chan showing up to the library unannounced on a Friday night, when he would usually be far away from anything academic. For you.

“Well, thanks, because I feel like my brain has basically disintegrated,” you complain, taking a sip. It was your favorite, too – he must’ve asked Mina or Jihyo for your order. “Did you skip out on the party?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling it. Kinda just wanted to chill tonight. I thought a library date might be fun,” he muses.

You scoff, watching his lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Date?” 

Chan blinks at you like you’ve wounded him, although you know it’s all part of his (perfected) act to get into your head. 

“You wouldn’t call it that?” he says, disappointedly, leaning his head against the palm of his hand. 

“No, I’d call it me studying for hours and losing my mind and you showing up uninvited.”

He points behind him with his thumb, turning halfway in his seat, an empty threat. “So, should I leave then?” he challenges.

This is probably the part where you should say yes. You should demand it, actually. But he had brought you coffee, liquid gold for your overloaded brain, and the chances of him listening to your request were slim to none regardless. 

“It’s fine,” you concede, hoping it sounded indifferent. You even shift your focus back to your laptop to play up the act, writing down “notes” that don’t quite make sense. Chan accepts this, tapping his fingers on the table obnoxiously, purposely so. After a few minutes, he straightens in his chair, leaning forward against the table.

“I must say,” he whispers, “I’m a little disappointed to find you actually studying. You had my hopes up the other day.”

It takes you a moment to recall that conversation, and once you do, the realization spreads across your face in red hues. “There is something seriously wrong with you,” you frown.

And there may have been something seriously wrong with you for enjoying it.

“Maybe. But I think you like it. You were basically writhing when I touched you at lunch.”

Now you know you definitely should have told him to leave. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, in that way that could drive you crazy if you let it (which you weren’t). 

“No, I wasn’t,” you argue weakly.

He finds your denial cute, truly, since he remembers your body’s responsiveness so vividly. It was essentially engrained in his mind, spinning it in circles. He could elicit that reaction from just touching your clothed thigh, and it made him feel powerful. And curious.

“Oh, you weren’t?” he chuckles. “So if I come sit next to you now, that’d be fine? And if I touch you like that again, you wouldn’t start to melt under my fingers?”

“I did not melt under your fingers.”

“But you would have,” he says confidently. He drops his voice to a whisper again. “If your friends weren’t there, and I kept going, you would have.”

You’re staring at each other now, wondering who will break first, though his eyes shine with excitement and yours narrow with annoyance. Or rather, desire that you try to disguise as annoyance. 

“You think too highly of yourself,” you snort, scribbling gibberish into the margin of your notebook. 

He releases a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t need to think it,” he corrects. “You’ve shown me.”

You snap now, slamming your laptop shut a little too aggressively. Because you refused to allow him to continue talking with so much confidence, like he knew what you were thinking better than you did.

“I’m sorry, did you forget the part where none of this is real? All of your little touches and stupid remarks have nothing to do with what we agreed on.”

But your boldness only encourages him, biting his lip subconsciously. “No, they don’t. That’s just for my enjoyment. Like I said, you’re easy to fuck with.”

“That's why you decided to come see me in the library on a Friday night instead of going out? To ‘fuck with me?’” you say pointedly, to emphasize how unreasonable it sounded. 

“Well, you didn’t tell me to leave.”

“I asked a question.”

Chan drags his hand along his face, suddenly far less arrogant. For once, he looked like he was struggling to conjure up a smart response. And he was. But you were refusing to back down, finally having a sense of control. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says, and you glare at him. “Really, I don’t. I just wanted to see you.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t be dumb.”

Because there was no way he meant it. Or maybe you had misheard him entirely. But his whole demeanor had changed, and you no longer recognized the Chan that sat before you without his smugness.

“Right. If I tease you, I’m ‘insufferable,’” he recites, “if I’m honest with you, I’m dumb. Tell me, princess, what can I do then?”

You swallow harshly, trying to ignore what his words entailed. Honest. He said that he wanted to see you and he meant it. The air around you had shifted now, thicker, heavier, falling on your chest in a way that almost made your voice get caught in your throat.

“Are you fucking with me again?” you grimace, waiting for him to laugh in your face. To snap back into the version of him you’re familiar with.

But he doesn’t laugh. “You tell me. Am I?”

“You can’t do that!” you groan, exasperated. “You can’t say these things and then act all cryptic after.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and he relents. “Okay. Yes, I wanted to see you. Is that bad?”

“Yes.”

Yes, it was bad. Very bad, actually. Because you were supposed to hate him, and you thought he hated you. Because none of this was supposed to be real, and once you’d gotten vengeance against your shitty ex boyfriend (however dramatic it may be), things would go on like nothing had ever happened.

But is that what you wanted? It should be. It had to be. 

“Huh. I guess I don’t care,” he breathes. “Do you?”

He awaits your answer, though he already knows what it will be. You had become easy for him to read now; he had studied you like you were his favorite subject. The unsolved puzzle he had finally pieced together. 

And though you try to force yourself to lie and say yes, you simply cannot. All your resolve has vanished since he made such an unexpected confession, leaving you dazed.

“No,” you mumble, and your breath hitches. 

His smirk returns, though it’s different now. Less of an attempt to get under your skin, more of an acknowledgement that one day he’ll get to touch every inch of it. 

“Didn’t think so,” he reaches across the table, trailing his fingers along your hand. You snatch it back, ignoring his snickers. 

He would be the death of you, you were certain. And for some reason, you find yourself thinking that it may not be such a terrible way to go out.

Neither of you are sure how to proceed after that night in the library, an obvious tension lingering between the two of you. You knew you weren’t going to be the one to address it, but you were growing exhausted with pretending that it had never happened. 

It seemed like Chan was perfectly content with that, however. He hadn’t even mentioned it once, continuing to text you and show up outside your dorm and classes like it was all still part of a plan. And maybe it was. Maybe he was a great liar, but that didn’t explain the rift that had settled between you two. If he had lied that night, why could he hardly meet your eyes now?

You didn’t ask, because you feared the answer – both possibilities. Though when you turned to Mina and Jihyo for advice, they were adamant. They were convinced they were right all along, that there was a budding romance beneath the hatred. So, it was quite hard to get any sort of unbiased guidance from them. This was something you’d have to navigate on your own.

And by navigate, you meant continuing to avoid it. Hopefully Chan would crack before you did.

After almost two weeks of letting the unspoken words nearly suffocate you, you had begun to believe you really would have to forget it had ever happened. If he wanted to speak on it, he would. Nevermind that he could say the same thing about you; it was him that had started it, so he had to be the one to acknowledge it. It was only fair.

Your phone rings in the middle of the afternoon, during your thirty minute interval between classes. It’s Chan, which isn’t the surprising part (he had learned your entire schedule by now). 

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” he says only a few seconds after you pick up. 

You roll your eyes, hardly registering his proposal. “A ‘hello’ might be nice.”

“Hi,” he utters. “Let me take you to dinner.”

If you agree too easily, he’ll know you had been waiting for him to say something like this. And with how straightforwardly he had asked (or stated, rather), he clearly expected your agreement. You could make him grovel just a little bit. 

“You wanna see me again?” you quip, the most you’d allude to the library incident. 

But Chan could match your attitude ten times over, so he has a quick retort. “I just figured if we go to dinner you could post a picture on your story, really commit to the bit,” he explains flatly, and then laughs when you’re silent. “What? You wanted me to say I want to see you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You said you wouldn’t,” he reminds. “Remember?”

If he could see you, he would undoubtedly point out how flustered you were, then follow it up with a dumb joke about how the offer was always open. And you would have to hold back from taking him up on it. 

“Really doing a good job of making me want to say yes,” you chide.

“Please let me take you to dinner. I’ve been thinking about our library date, and I wanna take you on a real one.”

You huff loud enough for him to hear over the phone. “That wasn’t a date,” you correct. “And I’m busy tonight.”

A lie, but he didn’t need to know that yet. There’s shuffling on his end, and then his voice comes out sharply. 

“Busy with what?”

“That’s really none of your concern,” you can’t help but grin at your own mischief. “But if you must know, I’m seeing someone tonight.”

“Y/N,” he growls, and it’s hot. You try to imagine the look on his face (why couldn’t he have FaceTimed you?), and it makes you weak. 

“So, what time are you picking me up?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet despite your antics. Like honey masking poison. 

He exhales loudly, and you can hear all the unease release from his body. If he was going to be so wound up about you even potentially seeing someone else, why had he taken so long to address your ever-present tension?

Maybe he was just as confused as you. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans. “I’ll be there at seven.”

He hangs up before you can hound him about the first half, not even sparing a second to confirm the time. No, you don’t know what you do to him, but it was inevitable that you would find out. And he would make sure that you understood to the fullest extent. 

It’s difficult for you to decide on an outfit for dinner with Chan, one, because you’re still tossing with the idea internally and two, because you aren’t sure what’s an “appropriate” amount of dressed-up. If you look too good, he’ll think you’re trying too hard to impress him, and you’ll never hear the end of that.

Though, you had already agreed to going to dinner with him, so you probably wouldn’t hear the end of that, either.

Mina and Jihyo choose an outfit over FaceTime (and so kindly remind you to “at least make him wear a condom”), one that teeters right in the middle of simple and dressy, and you’ve fixed your hair at least a dozen times by the time he’s knocking on your door.

When you open it, he stares at you, and then tears his eyes away to roam all over your body. He draws in a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Wow,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful.”

The compliment comes with no snarky follow-up, and he doesn’t even tease you when you feel your face heating up. He takes your hand and holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you; you would have never taken him for such a gentleman.

He doesn’t tell you which restaurant he’s picked, but the drive isn’t long before you arrive and are seated, his hand finding its way back to yours while you walk through the aisles.

As you sit there scanning the menu, you can’t help but realize you’re at fucking dinner with Bang Christopher Chan. And he’s staring at you like you wouldn’t notice.

“What?” you question, and he drops his head, chuckling.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just can’t believe how much things have changed.”

“You’re still annoying, don’t get it twisted.”

“Yeah, well, you still agreed to get dinner with me,” he shrugs.

He thinks he’s won with that, turning his attention to the menu. But even if he’s right, you aren’t letting him shame you so easily. “You would’ve begged me if I didn’t,” you smirk.

His eyes snap back to yours, the mischievous glint forcing him to fight back the more impure thoughts. “You know, that mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.”

“Yeah? By who?”

“Careful, Y/N,” he warns, words coming out through clenched teeth. 

You flash him an exaggerated smile, thanking the waitress when she returns with your drinks, and Chan curses himself for being turned on by how quickly you switch from a temptress to the sweetest angel. He stumbles over his words while giving his order, and you giggle softly without even knowing you’re the cause of it. 

Considering Chan had brought you to dinner, you felt confident enough to bring up the subject of what the hell was going on between you two. Specifically the Friday night you’d left unaddressed. “So, is it finally time we talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“This,” you motion between the two of you.

He doesn’t even pause to think about it. “We’re having dinner,” he replies coyly.

You figure admonishing him for his feigned ignorance won’t bring you closer to an answer, so instead you push further. 

“But why?”

“I told you, you can post it on your story or whatever. I’m sure Jaehyun still stalks your socials.”

You’d seen quite a few random spam names in your story viewers, so you knew it to be true, but you also knew that couldn’t be his reasoning. 

“You also told me you wanted to take me on a ‘real date,’” you mention, and he throws his head back against the booth.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we just have a nice dinner and worry about the semantics later?”

Obviously, the answer was a resounding no, which he should have expected since he understood your stubbornness better than anyone. “Oh, for you to pretend it never happened and leave me wondering for weeks? Sure thing, Chan,” you sneer.

You probably should have excluded the part where you admitted you’d still been thinking about that night, because he latches onto it and uses it to evade answering any more questions.

“I really get in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” he grins.

“Or maybe I get in yours,” you shoot back. “What did you say? Something about ‘I don’t know what I do to you’?”

He rubs his jaw, exhaling through his nose loudly. Because you really didn’t know what you do to him.

“Princess, you don’t get into my head. You’ve never fucking left it.”

Your food is brought over moments later, right on cue, leaving you sitting idly, stunned. Chan pretends not to notice, already moving past his previous admission. 

“God, I am starving,” he groans. He takes a bite of his meal, and then blinks at you when you haven’t even slightly shifted. “What’s wrong? You wanna take that picture for your story now?” 

If you heard the word “story” one more time, you were convinced you’d actually implode. And you’d take him with you, just to annoy him in the afterlife. 

“Don’t do that,” you hiss. “Don’t act clueless.”

“Well sorry for trying to be a believable fake boyfriend.”

Nothing about this felt fake anymore, and when he says it, it feels like a harsh reminder. That vicious awakening from the middle of a good dream, pulled to the surface of reality when you’re in such a deep slumber. 

“That’s all you are, right? My fake boyfriend? So why do you say and do all these things that make it feel so real?” you demand. 

Your meals are all but forgotten now, and the booths around you are probably getting more of your argument than any of you would like. You swear you can see the lady in the booth to your right staring at you and then leaning over to whisper in her daughter’s ear. Hopefully she’d give her some advice to never get involved with idiotic men like Chan. 

He rubs his temples, growing more exhausted by the minute. “I’m trying to figure that out. I came up with a stupid plan, and somewhere along the way the lines got blurred.”

“You blurred them!” you whisper-shout, eyes widening in disbelief.

“You let me,” he says simply, and you can’t deny it. Though he’s still far more culpable for your current situation. “Listen, we can talk about it more on the way home, yeah?”

It’s his cop-out, and you should know this, yet you relent anyway. You aren’t surprised when he refuses to discuss it further in the car, either, and when he tries to put his hand on your thigh, you push it away. 

He deserves that, but it still makes him sulk internally. If he couldn’t offer you answers, you wouldn’t offer him any more of yourself. At least, you’d try your best not to (easy to say, harder to do). 

When he drops you off, you hardly give him a goodbye, so he knows he’s fucked up. His chest tightens at the thought of not being able to make it right. Of letting you go without telling you everything he’s been thinking for the last month. 

He isn’t even sure you’ll give him another chance, but he figures he needs to sort his mind out before he faces you again, for both of your sakes. 

The texts slow and then stop altogether, and you don’t see him at all for another week. Maybe you had pushed him enough that he had been scared off (still, he could at least fake break up with you). Though you had never taken Chan for someone who could be scared of anything, especially with his constant arrogance. 

“That’s just how men are. They run when shit gets too real,” Jihyo says, fixing her top. 

The three of you were currently getting ready in your dorm, because the minute you had texted the groupchat stating that you were desperate for a night out, they were basically busting your door down. And you couldn’t blame them, because you were never the one to initiate, but right now, it seems like the only distraction you have left. 

“I think he’s just a little confused,” Mina adds with more eloquence. “I mean, do you even know what you want?”

“Yes,” you grin. “I want to go out, have a good time, and forget about all of this.”

Mina rolls her eyes at your avoidance, and Jihyo clutches her heart dramatically. “My Y/N is so back, I could cry right now.”

You know very well that a party is not the magical cure for all your problems – in fact, it’s the indirect cause of nearly all of them – but your other option was to spend another weekend in your dorm preparing an internal monologue about Chan’s cowardice. So, yes, you were going to a party. 

“You know they’re both probably going to be there, right?” Mina advises. Both of the banes of your existence, though for drastically different reasons. 

“It’s fine,” you wave her off. “I won’t even notice that they’re there”

Between the three of you, there’s not a soul that believes your lie, but nobody questions it. 

Though perhaps they should have, because maybe it would have made you reconsider before you ended up in your current situation. Which was searching through a sea of bodies for one particular person, even if you weren’t sure what you would do if you found him. 

Mina notices, too, watching as your eyes sweep all along the room while nodding every once in a while, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. You really hadn’t caught a single word she’d said for the past three minutes. 

And although there were plenty of people there, you were confident you’d be able to spot Chan out of a crowd. But so far, there was no sign of him, and you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or disappointed. 

Unfortunately, however, you had spotted Jaehyun. In the back of the room, looking completely untouched, sipping on a drink with his friends on one side and a girl on the other. But he looked disinterested, not paying her any mind, nodding along indifferently. He looked like you, searching for someone amidst the chaos.

“Y/N!” Mina barks, and you turn to her immediately. “Are you even listening at all?”

“Uh, yeah,” you lie. 

She throws her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. “Really? So what do you think, should I go over there and talk to him?”

She points to the left of you, but there’s at least five guys in the general vicinity she could be referring to. Of course, you’d know who she meant if you hadn’t been so checked out while looking for Chan.

“Um, who?” you ask carefully, and she groans, frustrated. “I’m sorry! I think I need another drink. To clear my head.”

You take off for the kitchen before she can argue, the counters covered in discarded solo cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. Tempting. Instead, you open the fridge, pulling out one of the remaining unopened cans. 

When you turn around, you’re stuck in place, a firm chest blocking you from walking away. You’re about to complain, to remind whoever it is that there’s a thing called personal space, but one look up has the words refusing to come out. It’s Jaehyun, of course. 

“Y/N,” he falters, studying your face as if he’d forgotten your features. 

Your heart races, not from anything other than the discomfort of confronting someone who you once thought the world of.

“Leave me alone, Jaehyun,” you spit, and he steps back, granting you some space and the freedom to walk away if you so choose. But you don’t, not yet. 

He takes note of your stillness, encouraging him to speak again. “I will,” he nods. “But you haven’t given me a chance to explain, and I need you to know how much I regret what I did.”

“Yeah, well, good for you.”

He sighs, and a quiet moment passes between you, one that makes you picture him kissing that girl all over again. 

“Are you with him?” he asks, under his breath. You stare at him with feigned confusion, lips pressed in a taut line. This time, he speaks louder, intentionally. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N, please. Are you with Chan?”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t. But I owe you an explanation, and if you’re with Chan…” he trails, and it sends you over the edge. You tell yourself your anger rises up solely because of Jaehyun, but it’s undeniable that half of it comes from all you’d bottled up during the days without Chan around.

“Then what? Then it doesn’t matter? You cheating on me just gets justified because I’m with Chan?” you snap, voice increasing in volume with each word. “Guess what, Jaehyun, your fuck-up is to blame for all of it.”

Even with the thumping music, your voice carries throughout the room, and a few people glance over, intrigued. Someone pushes through the crowd, entering the kitchen right as Jaehyun opens his mouth to argue back.

“Is everything okay over here?”

Both of you look over, though you don’t need to to recognize the voice. It had become your favorite, even when it was teasing you or whispering innuendos just to unnerve you. 

“Chan,” you whisper, and he heads straight for you, ignoring Jaehyun’s unwavering glare. 

In a few quick steps, he’s beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him like he hadn’t ignored you for a week. “Hey, baby. Are you alright?” he asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Baby. That was a new one. He had called you princess more times than you could count, but it had started as a taunt and never really felt like anything more than that. Baby, however, had your heart pounding and mind racing. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you swallow, finding more interest in the ground now. For a second, you forget all about Jaehyun in front of you, and it reminds you that Chan’s actions are probably directly correlated. After all, the original plan was to get back at Jaehyun, and what better moment than right now? The final act to your months-long play.

“So you two are together,” Jaehyun concludes, frowning.

“Don’t look so upset,” Chan grins wickedly. “I’ll treat her better than you ever could.”

Try not to take his words seriously, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. This is all for show. But as always, he makes them sound real, adding a layer of intensity you can’t ignore. 

“You’re not good enough for her.”

You’re about to chime in, to remind him he has no say in what or who is good enough for you, and that it was rich hearing that from him of all people.  

“And you were?” Chan laughs humorlessly. “C’mon, baby, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

He squeezes your shoulder, looking down at you, waiting for your agreement. And as you glance between him and Jaehyun, something takes over you entirely. You pull his face towards yours, hesitating briefly to gauge his reaction. When he closes the final inches, your eyes flutter closed, his lips crashing onto yours.

It’s quick, soft, restrained, and not at all like what you expected (or wanted) kissing Chan to be, but it serves its purpose. 

Jaehyun stands there, wordlessly, the most satisfying look of outrage plastered on his face. Chan sees it, too, a small chuckle leaving his parted lips. He’ll probably burn the image in his mind to remember it whenever he needs a pick-me-up. 

And while you’re a blend of emotions between the kiss, facing Jaehyun, and Chan’s declaration, you keep yourself together for now, yanking Chan’s hand to lead him away. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You maneuver through bodies, making it to a noticeably more empty section of the house before you finally release his hand. If you’re lucky, he’ll go back to ignoring you, and you won’t have to discuss whatever just unfolded.

Unfortunately, you haven’t had much luck recently.

“Bold move there, baby,” he quips.

There it was again. Only this time, Jaehyun’s not around, so there’s no explaining away the pet name. Does that make it better or worse? You aren’t sure.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

Your night out had been ruined, and you swore you’d be done with parties for good. At least in your dorm you could save yourself from running face to face with anyone who either cheated on you or refused to share their feelings. 

“I’ll take you home,” Chan states, not offers. 

“I’m not getting in a car with you. You’ve been drinking.” 

It was an assumption, but a reasonable one. Though clearly incorrect, because he quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head immediately. “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol, actually,” he refutes, now pulling his keys out of his pocket and swinging them around his finger. 

So much for that excuse. 

“Whatever.”

He takes this as your reluctant surrender, now grabbing your hand and leading you to his car which was only a little ways down the street. And despite the kiss, you still had nothing to say to him –  or rather, way too much to say to him, and no desire to say it if he wouldn’t talk first. So a thick silence falls between you, leaving you with just the lingering feeling of his lips on yours.

“Quiet today,” he comments, stealing a glance you don’t return. You keep your head pressed against the window, a dull headache already forming from the night’s events and the alcohol. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble. 

His hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, tongue swiping across his teeth. “I know,” he mutters. 

“And I think I hate you again.”

“Well, the ‘again’ gives me some hope,” the corners of his lips tug upwards. “Means I had you on my side for a little, at least.”

“You did. Until you wouldn’t talk to me and ran like a coward,” you insult, watching his shoulders drop and smile fade as fast as it had come. You almost regret saying it. Because all your insults before had been quick, meaningless jabs that he could brush off. This one came with intent, a bitterness that wouldn’t be forgotten seconds later. 

“Yeah, I deserve that,” he sighs. “We’ll talk soon, okay? When you’re not tipsy and overwhelmed.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say flatly, still not lifting your head from the glass. 

He reaches across the console for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “I mean it this time. Because I’ve been going crazy without you. And that kiss just sealed the deal.”

“Please,” you scoff, forced. “It was hardly a kiss.” Hardly. Your minimization of it wasn’t wrong in a literal sense; it was short-lived, lacking the passion you knew you both had within. But regardless, it had completely hijacked your brain, so clearly it wasn’t hardly anything. 

“I know. That’s the problem. I need more.”

Now, you turn towards him, trying to decipher his expression. It’s unreadable for once, devoid of that familiar smirk. You want to tell him if he needs more to take it, that he can have everything he wants if he just says the words. But those words don’t come, not tonight, and you close your eyes against the window once more.

Before you leave for your dorm, he reaches for your hand again, pulling it to his lips. 

“Soon, I promise.”

You nod, trying to believe him, though you wonder if it would hurt less if you don’t. 

You didn’t particularly like loose ends.

That’s why after weeks of dangling a fake relationship in Jaehyun’s face and the culmination of it all at the party the night prior, you decided to confront him fully and at least hear what he had to say before you closed the chapter for good. You didn’t owe that to him, certainly not, but you felt like you owed it to yourself. An explanation for why he did it to quell the thoughts that had never completely gone away. Which he also said he owed you, anyways. 

And perhaps this was all amplified by the fact that most of the day had passed and there was no text, no call, no anything from Chan. He had only said “soon,” not “tomorrow,” but still. Some form of acknowledgement would be enough to placate you, but he hadn’t even spared you that.

So, with a final layer of lipgloss, you considered your makeup complete and mentally prepared yourself for the impending doom. You looked irresistible at least, everything Jaehyun could never have again. 

But nothing could ever go to plan (once again, luck hadn’t exactly been on your side), so you aren’t shocked when a knock on your door disrupts your evening. 

“Hi, princess,” Chan grins when you swing it open. Then, his eyes trail down your body, tugging his lip between his teeth subconsciously. “You look good.”

Well fuck. Why did he have to show up now? A text in advance might have saved you from unintentionally double-booking yourself, or maybe you’re at fault for assuming Chan was ghosting you again today.

“Thanks,” you smile half-heartedly, heading back to your mirror to look yourself over once more. It’s far too awkward to face Chan knowing you’re about to go see your ex, especially when you and Chan had almost established…something. Something real, beyond the pseudo-relationship. 

He senses that you’re withholding something, watching you suspiciously. “Going out?” he questions, and you curse under your breath. Bracing for the storm.

“Something like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His tone is already accusatory and you hadn’t even dropped the bomb yet, so you really had to prepare yourself for his reaction. At best, he would storm out and you could deal with it later, after you had dealt with Jaehyun. At worst, you’d have a full-blown argument in your dorm right before the other inevitable argument you’d have with Jaehyun. 

“I’m going over to Jaehyun’s,” you say softly, guilt washing over you when his face drops instantly. But you didn’t need to feel guilty – you were allowed to seek closure, especially when Chan hadn’t yet granted you transparency. Still, you can’t help but wonder if you were making the right choice.

Chan’s blood runs cold, and he waits for you to laugh in his face, to tell him how dumb he looks when he’s angry. Something snarky, something annoying. Something. Anything. He doesn’t care, as long as it means you aren’t currently getting dolled up to go see your cheating fuck of an ex boyfriend.

Instead, you say nothing, shifting on your feet uncomfortably.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m just hearing him out,” you say flatly. “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“No, it’s not a crime, but Jesus fucking Christ, you’re looking like that to go ‘hear him out?’”

You look down at yourself, a lacy bodysuit and skirt adorning your body – not to appeal to him, not at all, but to remind him what he had lost. Was it a little melodramatic? Maybe. Were you allowed to be melodramatic when confronting someone who had made you question if you weren’t enough? Definitely.

“Yes! What’s wrong with that?!” 

“Everything is wrong with that!”

“Oh my god, Chan, you got what you wanted,” you throw your hands up in frustration, “I’m sure you’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw us kiss last night.”

“You think his face is what I was thinking about after we kissed, Y/N?” he asks incredulously. “I was thinking about you, only you, and how right it felt.”

Was this his confession? It was beginning to feel like it. If only it hadn’t come at such a horrible time and in such a horrible way, maybe you would be happier. Now, the words sucked the air out of your lungs, leaving you speechless and uncertain. 

“So fuck what I wanted back then. What I want right now is for you to realize you deserve better than someone who broke your heart and your trust in the worst way possible,” he finishes, holding himself back from pulling you into his arms and screaming that it’s him. He’s the one who will give you everything you deserve; he’ll make it his life’s purpose to do so.

“I’m just hearing him out,” you repeat again, emphatically, though no matter how true it was or how believable you made it sound, Chan refuses to accept it. 

“Right,” he scoffs, running his hand through his hair. “Can’t wait to see you two all over each other in the corner of every party again.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already heading for the door, unable to take another second of seeing your face and knowing you won’t be his. 

“Hope it works out, Y/N.”

The door rattles as he slams it shut, and the room feels colder, emptier. And not just because of Chan’s physical absence, but because of what it entails. The same man who you hated - and who you swore hated you - had made you feel more seen and valued in not even two months than Jaehyun had in nine. He had put more effort into a fake relationship than Jaehyun had put in a real one. You were letting that go for some semblance of closure from someone who broke you.

Previously, you had tried to convince yourself your feelings had never become real. That of course your heart would beat a little faster when Chan would remember things about you, that of course you would like the way pet names fell from his lips, that of course you couldn’t stop thinking about him in every single way possible, from pure to downright filthy. This all made sense, of course, because he was the hot guy you were faking a relationship with. It had nothing to do with Chan, and everything to do with your body and mind being too receptive of what you’d been deprived of before.

But you simply couldn’t lie to yourself any longer. And that’s why, for once, you knew what you needed to do. You type out another message to Jaehyun, deliberating each word carefully. It would be the last you’d ever give him, at least in this capacity, where he still felt like he had a small chance at getting you back.

actually, i’m not coming over. i thought about it, and nothing you say can make me forget what you did…i didn’t deserve that, jaehyun.

i know what i deserve now.

i hope you learn from this and treat the next girl better. 

His texts come in quick succession, frantic pleas and apologies and then the angry ones regarding Chan. You don’t answer him or even give him the solace of knowing you’d read them. Instead, you turn your phone on DND and throw it behind you, hoping it’ll get lost in your bed sheets. 

And though you’ve done the right thing, there’s still the unavoidable grief over something that once was. The only person you want comfort from right now is Chan, but you know you should give yourself the space to reflect and process properly. He probably wants some time away from you, anyways. 

So you don’t call or text him. You avoid all the spots you know he frequents. You make yourself as nonexistent to him as possible. And worst of all, he doesn’t even come searching. 

There’s no way for you to know how badly he wants to see your name pop up at the top of his screen, or how he waits for you outside the library on days he knows you usually study. You don’t know that he stayed up late that first night, hoping you’d call him. Each notification made his heart jump, and after the eighth one that wasn’t from you, he finally turned his phone off completely. 

He didn’t want space, nor time. He wanted you. And beyond that, he wanted you to know you deserved more - that he would give you more. But he can’t fault you for any of this; he can only blame himself for not telling you sooner. 

When a week goes by and it’s still silence on your end, he figures you’d forgiven Jaehyun and taken him back. And that’s just something he’d have to live with. 

The days pass by slowly, monotonously, and though you argue with Mina and Jihyo that it’s healing, they complain that you’re just wallowing in needless despair (“Girl, get your man,” had been the phrase of the week). 

And you wanted to, but you weren’t sure how to face him after the way you’d left things. There was a gnawing worry that he wouldn’t answer your calls or texts, so you don’t even try. No, you decide you’ll just have to show up at his apartment, and yes at nine o’clock at night, because you couldn’t put it off any longer. The yearning was almost consuming you. 

Though Chan had been to your dorm multiple times, you had never been to his apartment; it was way less convenient to go off-campus where he lived. You had to get Chan’s address from his roommate, Minho, who you had already known from a shared class last semester. And he had also texted you a few times begging you to do something about Chan’s moping, because it was “making his life miserable.” 

While it was off-campus, it wasn’t far, and your determination was enough to ward off the apprehension of walking alone at night (though Chan would definitely not be pleased). Still, you kept Jihyo on the phone for the whole fifteen minutes, slight reassurance for both of you. 

You can barely bring yourself to knock when you arrive, feeling much less composed now that you were actually there, separated from Chan by only a door and thin walls. Your fist meets the wood without you fully realizing it, and it swings open with ferocity moments later. 

“Hi,” you choke out, all of your composure gone when he’s standing before you.

“Y/N?” he asks, blinking in awe to confirm that you’re real. He’d started to accept that your presence in his life was a thing of the past, a treasured memory he’d hold onto. “What are you – Jesus, it’s so dark out. Come on, get inside.”

He reaches for your arm and drags you inside, leading you all the way to his room; Minho’s home, and Chan doesn’t quite want him to hear the moment the girl he’s been losing his mind over ends things for good. Is “end things” even the right term, since there had never been a defined “thing” in the first place? 

His room is not much different from any other college student’s room, with books and papers sprawled on the desk and empty energy drink cans filling the trashcan. But it’s his, and that makes your heart swell a little. 

“I can’t believe you walked all the way here this late,” he scolds. He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and when he sits in his chair across from you, you deflate a little at the distance.

“I had to see you,” you whisper.

He clicks his tongue, trying not to melt at your words. Because to him, you’re with Jaehyun, and there’s probably some other rational explanation for why you’d shown up at his apartment at nine o’clock. He doesn’t know what it could be, but it exists, surely. “You know if you had texted me I would’ve been there in minutes,” he asserts.

“Actually, I didn’t know that,” you correct, folding your arms over your chest, “considering the way you stormed out last time we saw each other.” Which may have been justified, but still. 

“Can you blame me? You told me you were going to see your ex boyfriend who cheated on you, by the way. And then you didn’t even bother to call or text, so what was I supposed to think?”

“You could’ve called or texted me!” 

“I thought you went back to him!” 

He stands, chest rising and falling heavily, and he looks so distraught your anger fades. “I didn’t,” you say, softer now. “I didn’t even see him that night. We haven’t even spoken since. Or I guess that’s not totally true, he’s spammed me and I’ve ignored him.”

His eyes soften, and he crosses those few feet to sit beside you, mattress dipping under the added weight. “Why?”

There’s a million ways to answer that question, and you aren’t sure which is the right one. So you go with what flows naturally, not giving it a second thought.

“Because I realized I need more too,” you confess. “No more pretending, no more lies.”

Though your chest feels lighter with the confession, the room feels smaller and your throat tighter because Chan doesn’t speak, or move, you don’t even think he blinks. He doesn’t mean to stare at you like this, but you’ve left him stunned with words he’d only ever heard in his dreams, and he worries if he speaks he’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again. 

You start to rise from the bed, fighting back tears of rejection and humiliation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come  – ” 

His hand latches around your wrist, gently yet firmly, and you fall back to the bed with a quiet gasp.

“I haven’t been pretending. Not for a while now,” he breathes, and now you’re the silent one. “You’re right, I was a coward. I’ve wanted you so badly and I didn’t know how to say it.” He cups your cheek, thumb brushing along the skin faintly, confirmation that you and this moment are very real. “I should’ve told you everything. How much I think about you, how much I hate it when you’re not here.”

There’s hardly any space between you now, foreheads nearly touching, breaths intertwining. 

“How I can’t get that kiss out of my head,” he exhales. “How selfish I feel for wanting more.” 

You shake your head. “You’re not selfish,” you whisper, and the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. 

“I am, because I want you all to myself.”

“Then you have me,” you say simply, as though such a claim wouldn’t change everything. You’ve had me without even knowing. 

He can’t hold back anymore – he’s done enough of that over the past month – because those words are his absolute undoing. 

“Can I kiss you right this time?” His eyes drop to your lips, awaiting, begging for your permission. 

You nod eagerly, and that’s all it takes for him to place his hand along your jaw and draw your face towards his. His lips melt into your own, this time with all the passion you’d both held back before. 

And while the kiss starts soft, tender, moving against each other with the carefulness of a blooming love, it quickly plunges into desperate desire. Your fingers thread through his hair, delicately at first, until you tug at the roots and he groans into your mouth.

That sound. That devilish, sinful sound. It causes the heat within your core to grow tenfold, and you kiss him more fervently now, tongues swirling together. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, then drops his head to your neck.

And when your head tilts instinctively, offering him more skin to mark as his, he can’t help but smirk because he loves having this effect on you. He’d realized it that day at lunch, when he couldn’t do anything but skim your thigh under the table. But you were offering, so who was he not to take? He nips at the skin and runs his tongue along each spot afterwards, soothing, claiming. 

“Mine,” he mumbles against your neck, and then he kisses his way back up to your lips, mouth hovering over your own.

“Chan,” you rasp, “I want you.”

His lips crash against yours once more, because he can’t help himself when you’ve just said you want him so desperately. “Yeah? You want me, baby?” he asks, breathless.

You shiver when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing circles along your waist. “Yes,” you sigh, and then louder, “yes, God, I want you.”

He grips your waist, only sheer will keeping him from ripping off your clothes and fucking you right then and there. Because he wants to savor every last moment of this, but some small part of him is going feral – not a devil on his shoulder, but his throbbing cock trying to push through the seams of his boxers. So actually not a small part, because he’s big, you can see the imprint in his sweatpants.

 “Are you sure?” he questions. “Because if you want me, that’s it. There’s no more Jaehyun, no more anyone else.” 

Was he genuinely asking, or just trying to make you fall apart? You can’t tell, but you’re so needy, you answer regardless. 

“I don’t want anyone else.”

His hands hook under your shirt while he guides you onto his lap, and you raise your arms for him to pull it off while you settle against him. He pauses, drinking in the sight – you haven’t even taken your bra off yet – and then his palms find your breasts, massaging through the fabric.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, thumbs flicking over your covered nipples. The moan it elicits is so delicious that he does it again, and then again, cock twitching in his sweatpants.

“You only think that ‘cause I’m shirtless,” you quip, toying with the hem of his like you needed to make things even.

“No,” he says firmly. “Always thought you were the prettiest fucking girl ever.” He reaches behind his neck, yanking his tank top up and over his head, and you swear your breathing stops momentarily. This is what he’d hidden behind t-shirts and hoodies (and that jacket you still hadn’t given back to him), and honestly, how dare he?

But you can’t focus on that a moment longer, because he dips his head down to press his lips against the tops of your breasts hungrily, dragging wet kisses all the way to your sternum. “So fucking pretty,” he repeats, fingers unclasping your bra and tugging the straps down. 

His mouth is on you again before it even hits the ground, like he’ll keel over and die if he isn’t tasting you, and right now, he really thinks he might. So, for survival, he wraps his lips around your perked nipple, tongue swirling around it, then flicking. 

Each careful movement of his tongue causes your breath to hitch, hips rutting against him for any sort of friction, and he moans against you. His hands grip your waist, stilling your movements, and as a punishment – if you could call it that – he bites gently and tugs the sensitive bud between his teeth.

“Chan,” you moan, and when you feel the curl of that signature smirk, you become emboldened. “Who knew your mouth could actually be useful?”

Because although you definitely didn’t hate him now, you could at least reflect on that history, if not just to drive him a little wild. And hopefully he’d fuck you just a little bit harder. 

He growls then, his hand sweeping along your side to squeeze your other breast, kneading the soft skin in his palm. And when you least expect it, his hand comes down, slapping your breast with enough force to make you gasp.

“Fuck, I’m gonna miss that smart mouth of yours. Always thought it was so hot the way you’d act like you actually hated me,” he chuckles, now massaging the skin.

“I did hate you,” you rasp. You aren’t even sure if that’s true anymore, because you can’t think. His cock pressing into you has your mind in a frenzy. One where your only thoughts are of having him inside you, stretching you open, filling you up. 

When he lifts his head from your breasts, his eyes are dark, lidded, and boring right through you. Daring you to say it again. To lie and see where it gets you.

“You sure?” he whispers, tauntingly. “Because I always saw that look in your eyes.” His fingers dip lower, slipping into your panties, and he laughs when you shudder. “Deep down, you wanted to know all the filthy things I could do to this gorgeous body.”

Maybe you did. It matters little what you wanted back then, because you could only think of what you wanted right now, and his fingers were drifting dangerously close to it. But he was playing with you, not bringing them any further, waiting for your admission. 

“You flatter yourself,” you whisper. The wrong answer, clearly, because he pulls his fingers away, gripping your chin now. Forcing you to look at him, because he knows you won’t be able to keep up the act if he’s staring at you so intensely. 

“Say it’s not true then,” he orders.

You should be able to say it. You should be able to look him in the eyes and tell him he was once everything you wanted no part of. But he starts peppering open-mouthed kisses along your neck again, unfairly, and your voice betrays you. “It’s not true,” you mumble weakly.

Your fingers fly to his hair and tangle at the strands, but he won’t let you off that easily. Of course not. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. 

“No,” he growls. “Say it like you mean it.” 

His commands only add to the ache between your legs, and you accept that you can’t win. Your silence tells him everything, and he releases, hand patting your cheek like he pitied you. “That’s what I thought,” he hums, satisfied.

Your breathing becomes ragged when his hand trails down again, and this time you’re sure that he’ll relent and give you what your body was craving. Or maybe that was just you trying to convince yourself. 

“You never hated me. You hated that you knew I was better than your boyfriend,” he smirks, slipping his fingers into your jeans. They drag down, slowly, finally stopping right at your core. “You hated that you wanted to know what it would feel like if I touched you here,” he taunts, rubbing your pussy through the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“Shit, you’re this wet for me?” he groans, fingers gliding up and down, pressing harder when they pause at your clit. “I guess I was right, then.”

Any other time you would have been able to throw something sarcastic right back at him, but not now, not when he was teasing you like this. It was the closest he’d gotten to touching you where you so desperately needed him, and your hips buck unwittingly again. “Please, Chan. Need you,” you moan.

“Yeah, I know baby,” he coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you everything I’ve been dreaming about doing to you.”

And then you’re pushed off of him and onto the bed, hitting the sheets with a quiet squeal. The same fingers that had been rubbing your clothed pussy now hurriedly unbutton your jeans, and you lift off the bed slightly to help him drag them down along with your panties.

Once you’re completely naked before him, his movements lull, now taking in every inch of exposed skin. 

You feel like you’re drowning under his eyes, because the last person to see you like this had betrayed you, had touched someone that wasn’t you. This was the reality of infidelity – the insecurity, the nagging, cruel insecurity that seeped into places it shouldn’t. Because Chan would never.

And he sees it, too. The way you begin to falter and drift elsewhere. Your head turning against the pillow, refusing to face him.

“Hey,” he whispers, cupping your jaw, pulling your face back towards him. “Where’d you go, baby? Don’t hide from me, please.”

You swallow harshly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not hiding. Just…worried I’m not enough,” you mumble, and the words break him. He hated Jaehyun before, but he despises him now, because he made you  – who he considered the most beautiful girl to ever grace the earth, even when you were calling him an idiot – feel less than. And that’s something Chan would spend the rest of his life undoing if he had to.

His thumb strokes your skin now, trying to wipe away the remnants of anyone’s touch that wasn’t his. “No, stop that. You’re more than enough. You’re perfect,” he says. 

Your cheeks heat up from the affirmations, and he kisses you to cement them. But it's short, subdued, as he moves further down, lips grazing your neck, your chest, then your navel. He sinks lower, hovering right above your cunt, spreading your legs apart. 

“So perfect for me,” he breathes, and you can feel the air hitting against you. “You’re mine now. You won’t have to worry about anyone else ever again.” 

The words can barely sink in before his tongue is on you, licking a slow, tantalizing stripe between your folds. It’s so sudden that your hips lift off the bed, and his hands come quick, wrapping around your thigh and pinning you down. He swipes his tongue again, and then he takes as much of your pussy into his mouth as he can, devouring what had been kept from him for too long.

“Fuck, Chan, please,” you moan, grabbing at his hair for something to ground you. He groans into you, both from your fingers tugging and the sound of you moaning his name like that. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasps. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard, tugging, releasing. Then, he swirls his tongue, creating a pattern that has your back arching, threatening to come undone. 

You’d thought about this. Lonely nights in your dorm, touching yourself at the thought of how he would look between your legs, about how his tongue would feel against you. But there was no way to anticipate this. He lapped at your pussy like he was starved and you were the only meal he’d get again. He’d like that, truthfully.

Your body is trembling by the time he draws his head back, and the lack of his warm tongue causes you to whine. “Patience, princess,” he coos. 

Before you can beg him to touch you again, he spits directly onto your cunt, letting his fingers spread it as if your slick wasn’t enough. And the action is so erotic, so filthy that your thighs clench involuntarily and he has to hold them open.

Two fingers push inside you, and his tongue is back, flicking your clit with urgency. He pumps them languidly, curling them against your g-spot and then pulling back until you’re almost empty. His name leaves your mouth through choked cries and it only drives him further, because he needs you to unravel just like this. His tongue circles your clit in rhythm with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with each pump, and his pace quickens when he can tell you’re close. 

“Chan, please don’t stop!” you pant. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

It’s all too much - his fingers, his tongue, the lewd noises of them bringing you to the edge. “Go on, baby, give it to me,” he coaxes. “Come on my tongue for me, just like that.”

With his permission (which was much more of a plea), you let go, throwing your head back against the pillow. Your whole body comes alive with the intensity of your orgasm, ripping through you in currents while he continues lapping at your pussy lazily. It’s only when he pulls his fingers out for the final time and sucks them clean that you come down, chest heaving. 

“My mouth sure is useful, huh?” he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes. 

His laughter is cut short when you sit up on your knees and tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, head lowering. Your intentions are clear, but he grips your shoulder, halting your movements. 

“No, no, princess, it’s okay,” he huffs, using his last bit of self-restraint. He can’t believe he’s turning down head from you, but right now, being buried inside you is his priority. 

You can’t believe it either, blinking up at him sweetly, eyes wide with confusion. “But I wanna return the favor,” you pout.

Jesus, were you an angel from above or a succubus from the depths of hell, he wonders?

“Fuck, I know, baby,” he groans. “But I need to be inside you, right now.”

He sounds so desperate that you feel like you’re in control now, and you reach for his cock through his sweatpants. Wrapping your fingers around it, stroking softly. “You wanna fuck me, Channie?” you purr. 

“Yes,” he growls, grabbing your wrist – all your control, gone. “You want it too, don’t you baby?” He stands, ridding himself of his sweats and boxers at once. His cock springs free, precum beading on the tip, and he cages you against the bed. “Or can you not take it? Hm? Is one all this pretty pussy can give me?”

The flip switches in you instantly, arms slithering around his neck, yanking him to you. His lips crash onto yours, all teeth and tongue, both of you at your neediest. When your hand slips down to stroke him, thumb spreading precum along his length, he lets out a low guttural sound into your mouth. 

“Baby, shit, you’re killing me,” he rasps.

“Can you die inside me, at least?” 

That he could do. Happily. Willingly. He reaches over you, pulling open a drawer and rummaging inside. And though you shouldn’t, you bring your hand to his wrist, stopping him. 

“I’m on the pill, if that helps,” you whisper. “I need to feel you, nothing else.” Your words are sinful but your eyes are so sweet, looking up at him like you’d break if he denied you. 

“Fuck, princess, you’re trouble,” he groans, shoving the drawer closed and bringing his hand to your cheek instead. He swipes away a few strands of hair that had fallen, trying to soak in every inch of your perfect face. 

“You love it,” you giggle.

“God, yes I do.”

He grasps his cock and fists it a few short times, then guides it along your pussy. Your slick coats his shaft immediately, slow drags making your head spin. And when he slaps the tip against your clit, you know he’s doing it just for that. To drive you crazy, to hear your whines, to see you writhing for it. For him. Would it be appropriate to call him a smug bastard again?

“Stop teasing,” you beg, your voice a strained whisper.

“But you’re so cute like this,” he says. “What’d you say again? ‘Everyone knows I wouldn’t fuck you?’”

You buck your hips against him, a poor retaliation, and he laughs, positioning himself at your entrance. “Well look at you now, princess.”

He presses into you just the smallest bit, enough for the tip to slip inside, still teasing when all you wanted was for him to plunge inside you and fuck you senseless. That small amount of pressure is gone in an instant, leaving you empty once more. 

“Chan,” you whimper. “Please just fuck me, I can’t take it.”

You might cry if he keeps this up, still sensitive from your last orgasm but so desperate for another. And while he wouldn’t mind driving you to that point, his cock is painfully hard. Even he’s at his limit. 

“Oh, baby, you’re gonna take it,” he taunts, thrusting forward in one swift motion. He bottoms out and stays there, immobile, reveling in your cunt stretching around him. “Fuck. Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.”

“Would feel more amazing if you would move,” you hiss, and he actually listens. His hips snap against you with a purpose, slow and deep, watching every inch sink further. 

Each thrust reaches that sweet spot that has your back arching and nails digging into him. You can already feel the fire building inside you again, clenching around him in a way that has him wondering if you’re a dream. “Fuck, your pussy was made for me,” he groans, hips bucking faster now. Less restraining and savoring, more adhering to his primal urge to fill you up entirely.

“Funny. Jaehyun said the same thing,” you pant. You aren’t sure where the confidence comes from, especially when he’s the one pounding into you; maybe he’s fucking the attitude back into you. But you know it’ll get you into trouble, the good kind of trouble, the kind where Chan wrecks you mercilessly. 

And oh, he does. He thrusts wilder, rougher, almost carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room. 

“Yeah? Well he fucking lied, baby,” he growls. “Because you feel that?” His hand presses down on your stomach. “That’s all me. My cock you’re squeezing like a fucking vice.”

His hand slides down, thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. The added sensation brings you closer to the edge, and he’s nearly there as well. “Chan, oh my god,” you moan, nails dragging along his bicep. 

“You’re so tight,” he grunts. “Did he ever fuck you right?” He won’t even say the name, because it holds no meaning now. You’re his, and he’ll fuck you enough times that you won’t remember anyone else. 

Your walls clench harder around him, his thumb circling relentlessly. “No,” you cry. “Not like you. Not like this.” That answer satisfies him, and he pulls back all the way just to slam into you harder.

“I didn’t think so,” he muses. He leans down, nipping at your neck. “Forget about him. All you need to remember is me and my cock ruining you like this.” 

You’d already forgotten, only able to think about how Chan was the one currently fucking into you like he had something to prove. You’re so close to release, strangled cries of his name escaping your lips while your thighs clench around him. “Ah, Chan, I’m gonna come!” you whimper.

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he grunts. “You want me to fill you up? Leave your pussy leaking with my cum?”

His words are your final propulsion, and he emphasizes them with each rut of his hips. Your back arches off the bed, face contorting in pure euphoria, and Chan commits the image to memory. It matters little that he knows he’ll see it many, many more times; he wants to watch you ride every single high until the end of time. 

Your orgasm washes over you, setting every inch of your body aflame, and you want more. More of him. All of him. “Yes! Please fill me up, please,” you beg, voice breaking from the overstimulation. 

He can’t deny you, doesn’t want to deny you, and he couldn’t anyways. You’ve basically sucked him in, legs keeping him held in place. He thrusts into you one final time, a low groan emitting from someplace deep within, hips jerking erratically as thick, white strings of cum spurt inside of you.

When you’ve milked every last drop from him, he pulls out from your spent heat and falls to the bed dramatically, limbs flopping as if he’s dead. And maybe he is, because that was definitely heaven. 

You lay there side by side, chests rising and falling in sync, staring at the ceiling like it might offer an explanation for what just happened. How you ended up like this, his cum dripping from you, your scratches welting along his back, when just months ago you couldn’t stand each other. Supposedly. 

Then comes a knock on the door, and you both are struck with the realization that you’d forgotten Minho was home, in another room, hearing everything. Or rather, Chan had forgotten, and you’d never known. Never even considered it. 

“Are you two done in there?” he calls from outside. You lift your head and look at Chan with wide eyes, and he shrugs like he’s just as clueless.

“Uh, yeah,” Chan shouts back. You bury yourself under the sheets, expecting the door to swing open. Thankfully, it doesn’t. But the alternative might be worse.

“Y/N, when I asked you for help, I didn’t mean by moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors in my apartment.”

Minho’s footsteps pad away from the door, and you pull back the sheets, horrified. “Was I really that loud?!” you exclaim. He hadn’t said anything about your volume or even tried to quiet you, and you were far too consumed to notice. 

“A little…” Chan rubs his neck sheepishly.

You wish you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, because how would you ever face Minho again? And their poor neighbors, no less. The walk of shame was going to be unbearable. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” you groan. 

He shakes his head vehemently and kisses your forehead, a small reassurance. “No! No, baby, it was so hot,” he coos. And then it hits him. “Wait. Minho asked you for help?”

“I guess you were going crazy without me,” you smirk. This time he groans, and you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Don’t worry. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” he whispers. 

Johnny adjusted his tie in the reflection of the café window, the tight knot at his throat a stark reminder of the weekend he had ahead. The dreaded family reunion—two days of nosy relatives prying into his personal life, throwing out unsolicited advice, and, of course, trying to set him up with someone they deemed "perfect" for him. He sighed, reaching for his coffee.

That’s when it happened.

A sharp jolt. A splash of coffee. And a string of muttered apologies from the woman who had bumped into him, her laptop bag hanging precariously off her shoulder.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she said, grabbing napkins from the counter and thrusting them at him.

“It’s okay,” Johnny replied, dabbing at the spill on his shirt. His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, the world quieted. She had the kind of presence that pulled you in—focused, determined, with an edge of frustration as she wrestled with her laptop bag.

“Are you sure? That looks expensive,” she asked, motioning to his shirt.

“It’ll survive,” Johnny said, flashing his trademark grin, the one that usually disarmed anyone.

But she didn’t melt under the charm. Instead, she just offered a curt nod and started gathering her things.

“Wait,” Johnny blurted, surprising even himself.

She paused, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it.

Her brow furrowed. “Are you seriously trying to turn a coffee spill into a pick-up line?”

Johnny laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “No, I swear. But I do have a proposition.”

She crossed her arms, intrigued despite herself. “I’m listening.”

And that’s how Johnny found himself explaining his dilemma to her—his meddling family, the relentless blind date setups, and the lie that had slipped out at his last family dinner: that he already had a girlfriend. The moment he said it, his mother’s face lit up, and before he knew it, he’d promised to bring his “girlfriend” to the reunion.

“So you… want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” she asked, skeptically.

“Yes,” Johnny said. “Just for the weekend. You’ll get free food, a place to stay, and in return, I can help you with… whatever you need.”

She snorted. “What makes you think I need help?”

Johnny gestured to her laptop bag, the frazzled way she had barreled into the café. “Call it a hunch.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Actually, there is something,” she admitted. “I’m a writer—a romance writer—and I have a pitch meeting with a big publisher coming up. I could use some tips on… you know, exuding confidence and charm.”

Johnny leaned back, his grin widening. “Deal.”

The reunion was, predictably, chaotic. Johnny’s siblings were relentless, teasing him about finally “settling down,” while his parents beamed at every affectionate glance and touch he and his “girlfriend” exchanged. For her part, she played the role perfectly, slipping seamlessly into conversations, charming his aunts, and even winning over his skeptical grandmother.

But it wasn’t all pretend. Between the stolen glances and shared laughter, something shifted.

Johnny started noticing the little things—the way she scrunched her nose when she was thinking, the quiet determination in her voice when she spoke about her writing, and the rare but radiant smiles that lit up her face.

And she saw through the golden-boy façade he’d perfected. Beneath the charm and easygoing demeanor was someone who carried the weight of expectations, who always put others first but rarely stopped to think about what he wanted.

One night, as they sat on the porch under a blanket of stars, she turned to him. “Why do you do it?” she asked softly. “The whole golden boy act?”

Johnny shrugged, staring out at the horizon. “It’s easier. People have this image of me, and it’s… comfortable. For them, at least.”

“But not for you?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Not always.”

She reached over, placing a hand on him. “You don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations, Johnny. Not your family’s, not mine. Just… be yourself.”

Her words stayed with him, lingering like an echo in his mind. And as the weekend went on, Johnny found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t in years.

The lines between real and pretend blurred, the carefully constructed walls around their hearts crumbling bit by bit. By the time the reunion ended, they both knew they were in too deep.

It all came to a head on their last night. Standing under the twinkling fairy lights in his parents’ backyard, Johnny took a deep breath.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

“What wasn’t?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“You,” he said simply. “I wasn’t supposed to… feel this way. But I do. And I can’t pretend anymore.”

She stared at him, her breath hitching. “Johnny…”

“I know this started as a lie,” he continued, stepping closer. “But it’s not anymore. Not for me.”

Her resolve crumbled, and with a shaky laugh, she said, “It’s not for me, either.”

Johnny’s grin returned, softer this time, and as he leaned in, the world around them seemed to fade away. The kiss was everything their weekend had been building toward—soft, genuine, and completely unscripted.

“Land ahead, Captain!” called Yunho, the ship’s navigator, from the crow’s nest.

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “Prepare to drop anchor,” he barked. “Tonight, we take what’s ours.”

The crew scrambled, each man knowing his role as the captain’s plan unfolded. The small port town ahead was quiet, its people unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. Hongjoong’s reputation was built on raids like this—swift, brutal, and leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.

Below deck, the Halazia's armory gleamed with weapons. Seonghwa, the ship's relentless quartermaster, handed out cutlasses and pistols to the crew. “Make it quick and clean,” he growled. “The captain doesn’t like loose ends.”

As the Halazia approached the shore under the cover of darkness, Hongjoong unsheathed his sword, its blade catching the faint light of the moon. His voice cut through the night like a blade.

“Tonight, we remind the world why the name Halazia is whispered with terror.”

The crew roared in agreement, their bloodlust ignited. For Hongjoong, it wasn’t just about gold or glory—it was about power. And no one, not kings or gods, would stand in his way.

The Halazia glided silently into the small port under the shroud of night. The unsuspecting town, nestled on the edge of the island, was quiet save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. Its residents were blissfully unaware that terror had arrived at their doorstep.

“Lower the anchor,” Seonghwa ordered in a hushed tone, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened town. The crew worked swiftly, the only sounds were the creak of ropes and the splash of water.

Hongjoong stepped onto the gangplank, his boots striking the wood with deliberate force. “No mercy,” he commanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Take everything. Leave nothing behind.”

Yunho and Mingi led the first group ashore, their movements swift and calculated. Mingi’s massive frame carried crates of supplies with ease, while Yunho mapped their route through the maze of narrow streets.

Wooyoung darted through the shadows, his nimble hands prying open doors and snatching valuables with practiced ease. He hummed a quiet tune to himself, a stark contrast to the fear he left in his wake.

San, ever eager for a fight, kicked down the door of the local tavern, sending its patrons scrambling. “Hand it over, or face me!” he roared, his blade gleaming in the dim light.

Jongho remained by the cannons, his sharp eyes fixed on the town. He was ready to unleash hellfire at the first sign of resistance, though he doubted any would dare.

Yeosang followed the raiding party at a measured pace, his medical kit in hand. He had no illusions about the chaos that would ensue, and he was prepared to patch up the crew—or anyone foolish enough to stand in their way.

By the time the town's alarm bell clanged in desperation, it was too late. The Halazia's crew moved like a storm, looting every corner of the town. Gold, food, weapons—nothing was spared.

Hongjoong stood in the center of the chaos, his sword drawn, a chilling smile playing on his lips. The flames of a burning warehouse reflected in his eyes as he declared, “Let this be a lesson to all who think themselves safe. The sea belongs to us.”

As dawn approached, the Halazia sailed away, its hold overflowing with stolen treasures. Behind them, the once-thriving town was left in smoldering ruins, its people haunted by the memory of the dragon-emblazoned sails.

As the first rays of morning sun illuminated the island of Aphynx, its streets bore the grim evidence of the night’s raid. Doors hung off their hinges, market stalls lay in splinters, and the blackened remains of a warehouse sent tendrils of smoke spiraling into the pale sky. The townsfolk gathered in silence, their faces etched with disbelief and despair.

In the center of the town, Mayor paced nervously, his finely embroidered coat now stained with soot and sweat. His eyes darted over the wreckage, his mind racing. Every crate of provisions, every ounce of gold, every weapon had been stripped away. Aphynx was defenseless, vulnerable, and utterly at the mercy of the sea.

“This was no ordinary band of thieves,” he muttered, clutching a scroll of parchment in his trembling hands. “It was them... the crew of Halazia.”

A young messenger arrived, breathless and pale. “Sir, the kingdom must be informed,” he urged. “Without help from Wonderland, we won’t survive another raid.”

Mayor nodded grimly. He knew there was no time to waste. “Prepare my fastest horse,” he commanded. “We ride to the capital immediately.”

By midmorning, the mayor and his escort departed, the sound of hooves echoing through the barren streets. Their destination: Wonderland, the kingdom under whose banner Aphynx pledged fealty. The crown would not take this insult lightly—piracy threatened their trade routes, their reputation, and their wealth.

As the mayor approached the towering gates of Wonderland’s capital city, he steeled himself for the audience with the royal court. He would demand justice, but deep down, he feared that even the kingdom’s might might not be enough to face the legendary Halazia and its fearsome captain.

The kingdom of Wonderland stood as a beacon of strength and unity, its influence stretching across the seven seas. Its towering white walls and majestic spires reflected the brilliance of its rule, and its bustling streets were a testament to the prosperity its people enjoyed. At the heart of this mighty kingdom sat King Eldred, a ruler beloved by his people for his wisdom, fairness, and unwavering commitment to protecting his land.

But what truly set Wonderland apart was its secret weapon: the Nishi. These elite warriors operated in the shadows, their faces concealed behind eerie white masks with two eye slits. The sight of a Nishi was both reassuring and terrifying—they were symbols of the kingdom’s unyielding resolve and its ability to strike from the shadows. Trained in combat, strategy, and espionage, the Nishi were unmatched on the battlefield and in the murky world of subterfuge.

As Mayor Alden stood before King Eldred in the grand throne room, flanked by banners bearing the kingdom’s sigil, he recounted the horrors of the raid. “Your Majesty, Aphynx has been stripped bare,” Alden pleaded, bowing low. “The people have nothing. The Halazia will return unless we act swiftly.”

King Eldred leaned forward on his throne, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed the report. “The Halazia,” he repeated, his voice measured. “Captain Hongjoong and his crew dare to challenge Wonderland’s peace.”

From the shadows, a figure emerged, silent and imposing. The Nishi wore their signature mask, their presence sending a chill through the room. “Shall we mobilize, Your Majesty?” the Nishi asked in a calm, almost mechanical tone.

The king rose to his feet, his regal robes flowing around him like the waves of the sea. “Not yet,” he declared. “The Halazia is cunning, and we will not be drawn into a hasty response. I want information—where they’ve gone, who their allies are, and what they seek.”

He turned to the Nishi. “Deploy your finest. Track the Halazia. And when the time comes, we will remind the pirates why Wonderland is unchallenged on the seas.”

The masked figure bowed and disappeared as silently as they had arrived. The king’s gaze returned to Alden. “Fear not, Mayor,” Eldred assured him. “Aphynx will be avenged, and the Halazia will pay for its crimes.”

A few days after the raid on Aphynx, the Halazia anchored in a secluded cove to divide their spoils. The crew was in high spirits, reveling in their success, but the mood shifted when a small, unmarked vessel approached their ship under a flag of truce.

A lone messenger, dressed in simple but pristine clothes, was rowed aboard. He carried a scroll sealed with the royal insignia of Wonderland. The sight of the mark immediately put the crew on edge.

Seonghwa was the first to intercept the messenger, his sharp eyes scanning the man for signs of treachery. “State your business,” he demanded coldly.

The messenger bowed respectfully, his voice steady. “I come with a message from His Majesty, King Eldred of Wonderland.”

Hongjoong, seated on a barrel nearby, motioned for Seonghwa to step aside. “Give it here,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. The messenger handed him the scroll with trembling hands.

Breaking the seal, Hongjoong unrolled the parchment. His eyes scanned the elegant script:

> To Captain Hongjoong of the Halazia,

The Kingdom of Wonderland invites you to discuse the recent events at Aphynx. We believe diplomacy may resolve this matter without further bloodshed or hostility.

You are offered safe passage to the island of Eletheris, where a representative of Wonderland will await you.

We hope you will consider this opportunity to avoid unnecessary conflict.

Signed,

His Majesty King Eldred*

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he handed the letter to Seonghwa. “Diplomacy?” he mused. “From Wonderland? Either they’ve grown soft, or they’re planning something.”

San, ever eager for confrontation, crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s a trap. No kingdom invites pirates to talk unless they’ve got blades hidden behind their backs.”

Mingi, thoughtful but cautious, shrugged. “Could be a way to buy time. They might not know where we are and want to stall while they gather their forces.”

Wooyoung, leaning against a mast with a sly grin, added, “Or maybe they’re scared of us. That raid shook them up.”

Seonghwa handed the letter to Yunho, who studied it carefully. “The location is Eletheris,” Yunho noted. “Neutral ground, but also isolated. Perfect for an ambush.”

Jongho, standing by the cannons, spoke up in his usual calm tone. “We should assume the worst. If we go, we prepare for a fight.”

Hongjoong tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword, deep in thought. Finally, he stood. “We’ll go,” he decided, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crew. “If Wonderland wants to talk, we’ll give them a show. But we’ll be ready for anything.”

A sinister grin spread across his face as he turned to Seonghwa. “Prepare the ship. We’ll make our move at nightfall.”

The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared question their captain. Suspicious as they were, they trusted Hongjoong’s instincts. The Halazia would sail for Eletheris—not for peace, but for the opportunity to show Wonderland just how dangerous a cornered pirate could be.

As the crew debated the letter, Yeosang emerged from below deck, wiping his hands clean with a cloth. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered group, noting the tension in the air.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through the discussion.

Seonghwa handed him the letter without a word. Yeosang read it quickly, his expression unreadable. “An invitation to ‘talk,’” he said, his tone skeptical. He folded the parchment carefully and looked at Hongjoong.

“If this is a trap, which it likely is, I hope you’ve accounted for the injuries we might sustain. I’m running low on supplies after Aphynx, and if Wonderland has their warriors, this won’t be a simple skirmish.”

Hongjoong’s smirk remained steady as he met Yeosang’s gaze, his voice laced with confidence. “Prepare for the worst, but we’re not backing down.”

Yeosang nodded, handing the letter back to Seonghwa. “I’ll do what I can. Just try not to get yourselves killed unnecessarily. I’d rather not have to stitch anyone back together because of bad decisions.”

With that, he turned and disappeared below deck again, leaving the others to their discussion.

The Halazia arrived at Eletheris under the cover of twilight, its black sails stark against the fading light. The crew stood ready, their hands brushing weapons as they prepared for whatever awaited them. The island, a neutral ground known for its wild forests and rocky shores, seemed unusually quiet as they approached the dock.

As the crew disembarked, they were met by a contingent of Wonderland’s warriors. At the forefront stood a tall, imposing man clad in gleaming armor, a crimson cloak flowing behind him. His sharp features radiated authority, and his piercing gaze swept over the pirates like a hawk assessing prey.

“I am General Kael of Wonderland,” the man announced, his voice steady and commanding. “Welcome to Eletheris, Captain Hongjoong. His Majesty extends his gratitude for your willingness to meet.”

Behind Kael stood a line of warriors, their stances disciplined, their weapons polished to a deadly sheen. Among them were four figures that immediately caught the pirates’ attention—the Nishi.

Clad in flowing black cloaks, their white masks with two eye slits were hauntingly featureless. The presence of the Nishi sent a ripple of unease through the Halazia's crew.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “A grand welcome for pirates,” he remarked with a faint smirk. “I wonder if this is hospitality or intimidation.”

Kael’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “Perhaps a little of both. The king values peace, but Wonderland does not take threats lightly.”

Seonghwa exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, his hand hovering near his sword. San, standing nearby, muttered under his breath, “They’re itching for a fight.”

Kael gestured inland, toward a path that wound through dense forest. “His Majesty awaits you at the royal outpost further inland. You will be escorted there. I trust you and your crew will conduct yourselves appropriately.”

Hongjoong inclined his head, his smirk unyielding. “Lead the way, General.”

As the crew followed the warriors into the forest, the Nishi flanked them silently, their presence a constant reminder of Wonderland’s power. The forest was thick and eerily quiet, save for the crunch of boots on the dirt path.

Yeosang walked near the rear of the group, his gaze flickering between the Nishi. “If this is a trap, they’ve gone to great lengths to set it,” he murmured to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa nodded subtly. “Stay sharp. If they wanted us dead, they’d have done it already. This is a show of strength.”

As they neared the outpost, the imposing silhouette of a fortified structure came into view. Wonderland was not just extending an invitation—it was making a statement.

As the crew of the Halazia trudged along the forest path, flanked by the silent Nishi and Wonderland’s warriors, tension hung thick in the air. Despite their outward composure, the pirates exchanged quiet whispers, their curiosity about the masked figures overwhelming their usual bravado.

Wooyoung leaned closer to Yunho, his voice barely audible. “What’s with the creepy masks? Who walks around like that?”

Yunho shrugged, his brow furrowed. “I’ve heard rumors, but nothing solid. Some say the Nishi are assassins, trained from birth to kill without hesitation.”

San, walking ahead, glanced back with a scoff. “Assassins? They look more like ghosts. It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.”

Mingi, ever the practical one, muttered, “I’ve never seen anyone move like them. It’s unnatural. Did you see how they didn’t make a sound, even on the dock?”

Jongho, his tone calm but wary, added, “If Wonderland brought four of them here, they must be expecting trouble. No kingdom wastes resources like that for a simple meeting.”

Seonghwa, catching their murmurs, spoke softly but firmly. “Focus. Whatever they are, we’re not here to fight them. Not yet.”

Yeosang, his keen eyes studying the Nishi out of the corner of his vision, finally chimed in. “I’ve heard whispers in ports about them,” he said. “The Nishi are Wonderland’s shadow—their secret weapon. They’re not just warriors; they’re spies, assassins, and strategists. Their masks are said to symbolize detachment from emotion. No mercy, no hesitation.”

Wooyoung shivered, his usual smirk replaced by unease. “Sounds like a nightmare. You think they’re human under those masks?”

Yeosang gave him a faint, enigmatic smile. “Human, yes. But how much humanity is left in them? That’s another question.”

Hongjoong, walking slightly ahead, glanced back at the group with a sharp look. “Enough,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Whatever they are, we’ll deal with them if we have to. Until then, keep your wits about you. Wonderland’s trying to intimidate us, and we won’t give them the satisfaction.”

The crew fell silent, their unease replaced by steely determination. The Nishi remained as still and silent as statues, their masks giving nothing away, but the pirates knew one thing for sure: they had entered a world far more dangerous than they’d imagined.

The grand hall of Wonderland's palace was an imposing sight, with high arches and intricate tapestries adorning the walls. The crew of the Halazia stood before King Eldred, whose presence filled the room with an unspoken weight. His regal attire shimmered in the light of the chandeliers, his eyes sharp and calculating as he regarded the pirates.

"Captain Hongjoong, welcome to Wonderland," King Eldred said in a calm, steady voice, his gaze briefly sweeping over the crew before settling on their leader. "You've been quite the thorn in my side. But I believe diplomacy is the best course now."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, met the king's gaze with a wry smile. "I'd agree, Your Majesty. But let's not pretend this is anything but a show of power. You want to make sure we don't think we can walk away from this, don't you?"

Before King Eldred could respond, a sudden movement drew the attention of everyone in the room. A man-seemingly a servant-lunged toward the king with a dagger in his hand. The room fell into stunned silence as the assassin's target became clear.

But before anyone could act, one of the Nishi moved with blinding speed. In a single motion, the Nishi unsheathed a gleaming blade and, with flawless precision, cut the assassin's hand clean off at the wrist. The dagger fell to the floor, and the man screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground as blood pooled beneath him.

The Nishi stood motionless, their white mask revealing nothing-no satisfaction, no hesitation, just cold efficiency. Without a word, the other Nishi advanced, securing the would-be assassin and dragging him away, the severity of the moment leaving no room for mercy.

The room remained still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the wounded man as he was pulled out of the hall. King Eldred, unfazed by the attempt on his life, turned his eyes back to Hongjoong.

"Do not mistake this for weakness, Captain," Eldred said, his voice unwavering. "My kingdom is protected by those who do not falter, no matter the circumstances."

Hongjoong's gaze shifted to the Nishi, his interest piqued. He had seen many warriors in his time- skilled men and women, each formidable in their own right-but the way the Nishi moved, the speed, the precision-it was something entirely different. These were not mere soldiers. They were something else.

"The Nishi," Hongjoong mused, his voice low enough only for his crew to hear. "What are they? You say they protect this kingdom, but what are they truly?"

Seonghwa, standing beside him, spoke quietly. "Rumors. They're said to be more than just fighters. Spies. Assassins. Trained from the moment they can walk."

Hongjoong's eyes flicked back to the Nishi, who stood motionless at the king's side. His curiosity deepened. "Trained from birth... and no emotion. Just warriors without hesitation."

Yeosang, who had been silently observing the Nishi, nodded. "That's what they say. They wear those masks for a reason-to erase any trace of humanity. They're tools, not people."

Hongjoong's smirk returned, though it was tinged with something new-respect, perhaps even admiration. "Fascinating," he said quietly. "They're more than just soldiers. They are something beyond. And it seems Wonderland's power lies in them.”

King Eldred observed the pirates with a slight tilt of his head. "Indeed. The Nishi are the foundation of my kingdom's strength. Without them, Wonderland would be but a memory. And now, Captain, I suggest we return to the matter at hand."

Hongjoong's gaze lingered on the Nishi, but he returned his focus to the king. "Of course. Let's talk."

But as he spoke, the feeling in the room shifted. There was an unspoken understanding now, one that Hongjoong had picked up on, and he couldn't shake the thought: Wonderland had more to offer than riches. Its true strength was in its shadows- the Nishi. And that, more than anything else, was what intrigued him.

The grand hall of Wonderland fell into a tense silence after the attack on the king, the lingering unease palpable. The pirates stood with guarded expressions, while King Eldred’s steady gaze remained fixed on Hongjoong. The Nishi, ever silent, returned to their posts, their white masks as unreadable as ever.

The king cleared his throat. “Captain Hongjoong, let us return to the reason we are here. Your recent actions on Aphynx have caused great suffering. Wonderland cannot allow such acts to continue.”

Hongjoong, unshaken, stepped forward, his tone casual yet laced with authority. “You want us to stop raiding your lands? That’s fair, Your Majesty. But pirates don’t sail away empty-handed. If you want our respect, you’ll have to offer something in return.”

Eldred’s jaw tightened. “And what is it you seek, Captain? Gold? Resources? Wonderland is not a kingdom that barters with thieves.”

Hongjoong smirked, his gaze shifting to the Nishi. “I don’t want your gold, Your Majesty. I want your shadows—your Nishi.”

The hall erupted into murmurs, and even the ever-stoic Nishi seemed to shift slightly. King Eldred’s expression darkened, his voice rising. “You dare demand my kingdom’s most sacred protectors? The Nishi are not pawns to be traded!”

Hongjoong didn’t flinch, his smirk unwavering. “You want us to stop touching Eletheris and your other territories? Then give me three of your Nishi. And not just any—I want the best. Warriors who can ensure my enemies fear the Halazia as much as they fear Wonderland.”

The king leaned forward, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of his throne. “Do you think I would sell my kingdom’s greatest weapon to a pirate? You overestimate your position.”

Seonghwa, calm and calculating, stepped in. “Your Majesty, consider this: Wonderland’s resources remain untouched, and the Halazia becomes an ally rather than an enemy. You lose nothing, but gain peace.”

The king hesitated, the weight of the decision evident on his face. He turned his gaze to General Kael, who stood at his side. “What do you make of this?”

Kael frowned, his voice low. “Risky, but tactically sound. Better to have them as allies than adversaries.”

Eldred’s eyes returned to Hongjoong, his reluctance clear. “You ask for much, Captain. The Nishi are not merely soldiers. They are trained from birth, their loyalty bound to Wonderland alone.”

Hongjoong’s smirk softened into something more serious. “I don’t need their loyalty, Your Majesty. I need their skill. Three Nishi, and I swear Wonderland’s lands will never again know the Halazia’s wrath.”

The king sat back, his expression one of defeat. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But you will not choose. I will decide which Nishi to send.”

Hongjoong’s smirk returned. “No, Your Majesty. If I’m to trust my life and crew to them, I will choose. Send me your best, or the deal is off.”

Eldred’s fists clenched, but he finally nodded, his voice heavy with resignation. “You will have your three Nishi. But know this, Captain: should you betray this agreement, their blades will be the first to find your throat.”

Hongjoong chuckled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “We'll see about that.”

The crew of the Halazia had been granted an unexpected stay in Wonderland, a rare opportunity to explore the fabled kingdom and observe its famed Nishi up close. The palace guards kept a watchful eye on the pirates, but Hongjoong and his crew were far from intimidated.

On the second morning, they were led to a large training arena within the palace grounds. The space was surrounded by high walls and overlooked by balconies, where nobles and soldiers often gathered to witness the Nishi in action.

“This,” General Kael announced as the pirates entered, “is where you will decide. The Nishi you seek are among the finest we have. Observe them well.”

The Nishi, clad in their signature black cloaks and white masks, were already in the arena, demonstrating their skills. They moved with an elegance that was almost otherworldly, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they sparred. Each strike was calculated, every movement a testament to their rigorous training.

Hongjoong watched with keen interest, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a stone pillar. His sharp eyes darted from one Nishi to another, assessing their movements, their precision, and their lethality.

“These aren’t just warriors,” he murmured to Seonghwa, who stood beside him. “They’re artists of war.”