Mark's Club Watermelon 🍉🍉

You inhale the fresh sea breeze, taking in the hint of salt and bright blue sky all around you. You carefully make your way through the rock formation, gazing down at the shallow pools of water woven through the rocks you step on.

You see a starfish sprawled out just under the water’s surface and crouch down a bit more to get a better view, but a slight movement of your hand sends one of your rings flying into the water, tucked somewhere your eyes don’t quite catch.

You panic, reaching in to try and grab where you think it might be.

“Don’t touch that!” a stern voice booms from behind you, and you snatch your hand back, whipping around to see the source of your scolding.

A man in rubber overalls, a bucket hat, and the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen strides until he is on a rock a few feet away from you. He points an accusatory finger at you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Those starfish aren’t for people to play with.”

You frown. “I wa-”

“Don’t you know not to mess with the wildlife? They’re alive and-”

“I wasn’t going to touch them, you asshole!”

His glare narrows even further, and you get a better look at the man’s sharp eyes that match his even sharper tone.

“Oh, sure, as if I didn’t see you reaching in with my own two eyes.” He rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Typical tourists.”

You feel rage bubble in your throat, but you stop yourself. You meet his glare with your own. “Shut the fuck up.”

You relish in the way his glare twists into a look of shock at your harsh words, storming past him the way you came, still careful to avoid stepping on anything but the rocks that stick through the water’s surface.

You exit the tide pool, ignoring whatever the man tries to say to you, walking away as fast as possible.

He eventually gives up, but you don’t look back once. By the time you reach the steps of a familiar building, the anger has faded into mild annoyance. What the hell was that guy’s problem?

“Hey, everything okay?” a friendly voice calls out to you, and you turn to see your blonde headed friend tending to his patio plants.

Taeyong had been your pen pal for years after you met him on one of your travels. You swear he is your platonic soulmate, evident in how many years you’ve kept in contact. A few months ago, he invited you to his beach hometown to stay in the tiny guest house attached to his as long as you wanted.

“Yeah, just ran into some asshole at the beach,” you grumble, taking a seat on the steps as you watch him carefully water one of them. His head whips towards you with a look of concern, and you hold your hands up to stop him before he gets heated. “It’s fine though, really.”

“Just wait for me next time, I’ll go with you,” he frowns, going back to watering his plants, and his concern shakes the last bit of annoyance from you.

You’ve been here for two weeks, and your time here has been exactly what you needed.

For as long as you’ve been alive, you’ve always been on the go, never one to settle in one place for too long. Your family moved from city to city growing up, with you never fully allowing yourself to get attached to anything or anyone you might leave behind.

As you grew up, you adopted this same lifestyle, and you never felt bad leaving anything behind, never let your thoughts dwell for too long.

But you’d become stagnant for a couple of years, and it was driving you insane, caught in commitments that didn’t allow you to move on. So you tied loose ends and left at Taeyong’s invitation— better to figure things out on the warm sand, right?

“Anyways, go get some rest before tonight,” Taeyong instructs, patting some loose dirt off of his trousers.

“Tonight?”

He scoffs in disbelief. “You forgot? We haven’t gone out once since you came— don’t you want to see how we have fun around here?”

Grinning, you give him a thumbs up.

“If I’m not up by 7, do whatever it takes to wake me up.”

He laughs. “Whatever it takes—noted.”

You don’t need Taeyong to wake you up, and after dressing yourself up for a night out, he shows you exactly what it means to have fun in his hometown. The clubbing scene is just right— not too crowded, but just enough to have a good time.

Drinks are unbelievably cheap, and all the excitement leads to a shot, a cocktail or two, and way more shots you lose count of.

The two of you end up having a little too much fun, and Taeyong ends up crouched at the corner of the bar’s exterior, throwing up as you pat his back.

“I’m sorry..” he apologizes drunkenly through his retching, and you wince as he continues to empty his stomach’s contents.

“It’s okay, Yomi,” you assure, speech also slurred as you try to soothe him. You don’t know how the two of you will be getting home tonight, but it’s hard to even think about it with your friend in this state.

“Is he okay?” a voice cuts through your daze, and you whip your head around to find its source.

It’s hard to make out the man’s features from his backlit form and your blurred vision, but as he comes closer to crouch next to you both, immediately your eyes widen in recognition.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you seethe, and the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Do I know you?” he asks, and the rage bubbles up even more.

“Aren’t you that asshole from the beach earlier?”

He pauses, but that seems to do it for him, and his eyes narrow into the same sharp glare he had earlier. “Oh, it’s you.”

You’re about to start arguing with him when he passes right by you, peering over at Taeyong’s face. Your protective instincts activate.

“Hey, get away from hi—”

“Doie!!!!!” your sloshed friend exclaims, jumping to his feet as he throws his arms around your enemy. You’re confused and way too drunk for this right now, just watching as “Doie” separates himself from your friend, holding him at arm’s length with a disgusted look.

“Yomi, do you know this freak?”

“Freak? What the—”

“My bestie Doie is heeere,” Taeyong exclaims, seeming as if he’s risen from the dead. He loops his arm around your neck and the other around his taller friend, holding you two tightly, your faces just inches from each other.

“Both my besties in one place? I-I’m so happy I could..”

You both look at each other with panicked expressions.

“Cry—”

And what comes from your friend are not tears, but another round of vomit. Luckily, you’re not caught in the crossfire, but the two of you are silent as Taeyong slumps over, both of you struggling to hold his dead weight.

After somehow getting Taeyong onto his back, you follow as he trudges over to what you assume is his car parked a block away. You open the car door for him as he shoves Taeyong in, your friend curling up peacefully across the entire row of seats.

The dark haired man slams the door with a grunt, letting out a heavy sigh. He turns his sight to you, his glare still present, but not as intense.

“Are you coming or what?” he asks gruffly.

“Huh?”

He sighs again, shaking his head. “Are you that drunk? You’re the one staying with Taeyong aren’t you?”

Dazed, you nod your head.

“He drunk texted me about an hour ago to pick you guys up—didn’t realize you were the friend he was talking about.”

“What do you me-”

“Just get in the damn car if you don’t want to be stranded here,” he interrupts coldly, turning on his heel to the driver’s side.

Your voice gets stuck in your throat, a pounding headache starting to form. You have no choice but to comply, with no idea of how to get back to Taeyong’s at this time of the night.

Opening the passenger door hesitantly, you slide in, setting your sights out the window, refusing to turn your head towards the driver.

He starts the car and starts the trip back to Taeyong’s and you pinch your nose as your head starts to spin. You quickly realize you probably aren’t as sober as you thought you were.

“Better not throw up in my car,” he warns, glancing over at you, and that last comment is just what it takes for you to snap.

“Well, Doie. You’re rude as fuck to someone you just met,” you assert, pointing at him accusingly. “Even earlier on the beach, I wasn’t gonna touch anything, you know? You just assumed.”

“First of all, it’s Doyoung to you. and yeah—you’re telling me that when I know what I saw with my own two eyes,” he scoffs. Finally, you face him, eyes wide at his stubbornness.

“Doie, Doyoung, whatever. I dropped something in that tide pool, I was just reaching into try and find it—and you know what? It’s probably in some starfish’s stomach thanks to you-”

He takes a particularly sharp turn as you finish your sentence. The swift motion has your pounding headache turning into spinning, and suddenly you feel sick to your stomach. Slapping a hand to your mouth, you grip onto Doyoung’s arm.

“Pull over! PULL OVER!!!!” you screech, and in shock he veers over to the nearest curb with you stumbling out of the car before he’s even properly parked.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” you hear his voice trail off behind you.

Luckily, there isn’t anyone else on the streets this late—one, to see the car moving as if Doyoung was the drunk one, and two, to see you in the very same position Taeyong was in earlier.

Your eyes sting with embarrassment and pain as you empty your stomach, at this point not even caring if Doie or Doyoung or whatever the fuck his name is leaves you on the curb.

Catching your breath, you feel your eyes well up a bit more in frustration at this situation. You don’t register the sound of footsteps approaching, and something cold touches your face, making you wince in surprise.

You look up to see Doyoung holding a cold water bottle to you, its condensation making it look like the most delicious drink in the world right now. In an uncharacteristic display, he opens it for you with a snap of the cap, handing it to you again.

“Drink, you need this.”

You hate the way he tells you what to do, but you feel your resolve crumble as you accept it gratefully, feeling humiliated at this moment of weakness.

“Take your time,” he nods and walks away, and after a few minutes, you get up, too.

You’re surprised to see he didn’t go back in the car, simply waiting as he leans against the hood of his car. He moves back into the driver’s seat as soon as he sees you walking back, water bottle still in hand.

The rest of the drive back to Taeyong’s is silent. As he pulls in front of the house, you turn to him, shakily preparing to admit defeat and apologize.

“I’m so-”

“It’s fine, just go inside.”

A flare of anger ignites at once again being interrupted, but you’re more than grateful to not have to fully apologize.

“I’ll take care of this guy, you have the key to the guest house, right?” he asks, and though you want to ask him how he knows that, you simply nod and exit the car. Without any further regard for you, he starts to help Taeyong out of the car.

Taeyong will be fine, and you’re too tired and pained to think anymore. You make your way around the back to the guest house, collapsing into the bed and drifting off as soon as your head hits the pillow.

You wake up with the worst hangover you’ve had in a long time, flailing blindly for any source of water. Finding the half-finished water bottle from last night, you groan as you replay the events of the night.

You force yourself to get up and shower, reflecting as the hot water washes away last night’s mistakes.

Who would’ve known the asshole who yelled at you on the beach would be your sweet Taeyong’s friend? Best friend at that? Though a part of you tells you that he did have some redeeming moments.

Whatever, you just hope you won’t see him anytime soon.

Taeyong is most likely still knocked out cold, so after freshening up, you go on a walk to try and decompress, taking in the fresh air.

You stop by a cafe on the way, drinking a cup of much-needed coffee as you watch people stroll by.

This really is just what you needed. No responsibilities, no stress. You catch a whiff of the sea breeze—that could be a hangover cure in itself.

Arriving at the beach, it’s a little more crowded that day, but a familiar head of pitch black hair popping in and out from the tide pool area catches your eye.

Your brain tells you you should’ve just turned around and walked away, but you approach anyways, your feet leading you up the same path and to the same man you had encountered there just a day before.

He doesn’t hear you approaching, and you watch as he carefully forages through the tide pool in those same rubber overalls, doing exactly what he told you not to do.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to mess with the wildlife?”

He whips around in shock at your words, eyes wide at you seemingly appearing from thin air. He breathes out when he realizes it’s you, and he shakes his head.

“I’m not messing with them, for your information—this is my job,” he corrects you sternly.

“Your job is to pick around at tide pools?”

He scoffs. “I’m a marine biologist, I don’t pick around these pools—I research and preserve them. There are always stupid kids and tourists coming around here and messing around.”

“Oh.”

You have nothing smart to respond with at the revelation that he is a qualified professional, and an awkward silence settles between you, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks filling the space.

That explains why he was such an asshole—he’s probably used to chasing off people who actually mean harm.

An apology hangs off of your tongue, but you don’t let it fall, your pride reminding you of how he’s spoken down to you since the first time you met.

He approaches silently, rummaging through the pocket on the chest of his overalls. “Anyways…” he trails off, pulling out a few items and holding them out to you.

“Were any of these what you were looking for?”

Lying in his hand are two plastic buttons clearly from different garments, a hairclip, a broken keychain, and, slightly dulled from its time in the water, the ring you dropped.

“You didn’t say what you lost, so I didn’t know what to look for.”

You’re speechless. You’ve been cursing him with every fiber of your being since you laid eyes on him, but in a second the atmosphere has shifted.

“Well?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.

“…Yeah, this one,” you reply, gingerly picking the ring from his hand, your skin brushing his slightly.

He nods, putting the rest of the items into a container he’d had by his feet.

“You actually looked for it?” You realize it might be a dumb question, but you’re genuinely shocked he would go out of his way to do that.

“Sunday is my day for weekly tide pool surveys anyways,” he waves you off. His eyes soften slightly, and the corners of his lips curl in a slight smile. “Didn’t want it in a starfish’s stomach after all.”

You can’t help but feel the corners of your own mouth twitch up at his reference to your drunken rage last night.

“That ring—is it important to you?”

You got the ring at some market for cheap, and realistically, you would’ve forgotten about it in a week. You’re honest with him.

“Not really.”

He laughs in disbelief.

“But still, thank you—seriously.”

You hope he can feel that you’re genuine, and it seems like he does.

You know you could buy 100 more, but now that someone worked so hard to get it back to you? Someone who you thought hated your guts? Maybe you could take better care of it.

“Are you done with your work?” you ask, and he seems caught off guard by your question.

“..No? Still have half of the pool to survey.”

You smile at his confused expression—it’s nice to see his different expressions when he’s not glaring at you like you’re the worst person in the world.

“Need some help?”

Though he rejected your first offer, you stubbornly insisted on helping him pick out little bits of trash and debris. There wasn’t that much to clean, and Doyoung still had to do work once you were done.

The first time you helped you left as soon as you were done, but as you go about the rest of your week, something has you itching to see him again.

So you do the following Sunday, eyes scanning for that familiar head of dark hair.

You see more of him this day—the shocked expression he has at seeing you again, the slightly annoyed look he dons when you refuse to leave. Yet the sharpness he had when you first met is absent, and you’re relieved.

And when you return the following week wearing a pair of similar rubber overalls to his, the surprise on his face is priceless.

You can’t help it. You tell yourself you won’t go back, and Doyoung insists you stop coming, but every Sunday you end up right back where you started.

The 5th time you come, things shift a bit. With barely anything to clean and a lull in his research, the time you usually fill with work is empty.

One thing leads to another, and you trip on one of the rocks, falling on your ass. Luckily, no sea creatures are harmed in the process, and you laugh at yourself.

Doyoung rushes towards you, grabbing your forearms to help you up. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks, concerned.

“It’s no wonder Taeyong kept you around his whole time,” you coo, allowing him to help you up. You half expect him to revert right back to a stoic glare, but your consistency proves to have broken down some of his barriers.

He smiles, really smiles, and it’s a gummy smile with eyes that crinkle just right. His laughter is so joyful, so unlike your first impression.

“It’s more like I keep him around,” he jokes. “Just kidding, Tae is too kind for his own good, he needs someone careful like me around him.”

You don’t have a witty response, starstruck at the soft expression he has talking about his friend. Someone dear to him.

Could that expression, that gummy smile of his, ever be directed at you? For you? About you?

Silence.

For some reason, the apology you left hanging for so long hits you like a train.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

It takes a second to register that the word left not only your mouth, your heads darting to each other, eyes open wide in shock.

He inhales, you giggle, and the two of you break into fits of laughter. You laugh until your stomach hurts, and you don’t continue quite yet once the laughter dies down. He beckons you over to a rock formation that juts over the water, and you sit side by side.

The way the water cascades is hypnotizing, and the two of you watch for a moment before he breaks the silence.

“I’m really sorry for being so disrespectful. It’s just..” He glances back at the tide pool before training his eyes back on the waves. “This is my life’s work you know? A lot of people come through here and don’t care. I thought you were like them and I’m sorry I treated you like you were.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t judge people before you know them.”

“Yeah— that's true.”

He sounds so genuine. Another silence ensues, and it makes you wish you had gone first. You push down any remaining pride, turning to him.

“I’m sorry, too, for being kind of a bitch.”

He laughs at your choice of words, and the air lightens noticeably.

“Well, I kind of deserved it.” You don’t quite agree with that. The two of you are just different.

“No, you’re just passionate. That’s a good thing. I personally can’t understand dedicating your whole life to something—there’s so much out there, you know?,” you muse.

And it’s true, you can’t imagine what life would have looked like if you only ever stayed in one place.

“You think it’s a good thing? I was born and raised here, the ocean is all I’ve ever known.” A small smile lights his face as he breathes in the fresh air.

“But I don’t think I’ve wanted anything else.”

You can only sit there in awe. You don’t know if you’ve ever met anyone like this—so straightforward, so committed, so content. So opposite of you.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of passions, but nothing’s ever stuck,” you muse.

“Like what?”

You explain that you’ve tried it all—thought for a while you’d be a lawyer, then dabbled in nursing, traveling the whole country. He laughs at the thought of you as a nurse.

“You as a nurse when you’re the one yacking on the side of the road?” he teases.

“Hey.”

He apologizes sheepishly, and you continue.

“I tried to do fashion and design, and those didn’t stick either. I think the longest running thing was a weed business I ran back where some of my family lives—my cousin runs it now, though. You ever try?” you hold up your pinched index finger and thumb to your mouth as if smoking an imaginary blunt.

Amusement lights his eyes. “I’m not so sure it’s legal here.”

“Oh, it is—I made sure to ask Taeyong before coming to stay here,” you correct him confidently.

He laughs. “Fiend.” You lightly smack the side of his arm and his laughter grows.

“Well, what are you doing now?” he asks.

You grin as you gear up to explain.

“Nothing!”

His brows furrow, waiting for the punchline of a joke he thinks his coming.

“Nothing?”

You nod amidst his confused reaction, continuing.

“I’ve done so much, worked so much, but doing nothing is the only thing I haven’t tried yet, and it’s honestly been nice.”

“And you can afford that?” His question is genuine.

“Trust, I have more than enough to get by for a while. That’s what happens when you hyperfixate on a bunch of different things.”

You fixate on the patterns the crashing waves make, watching how the droplets drag themselves back into the mass.

“The more you move the more you make, you know? And that’s all I’ve ever done.” You look back at him. “Move.”

He’s at a loss for words, and you notice how his eyes droop a bit, taking on a sad look. Another expression added to your mental scrapbook of Doyoung, but not one you think you want to see often.

After what feels like a million questions directed towards you, you ask just one of your own.

“You’re sure you never wanted to try anything else?”

Doyoung’s response is immediate, as if he’s pondered this many times before.

“No.” The sadness leaves his eyes as he takes on a resolute expression instead. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

A question enters your mind at how certain he is. How nice is it to have something you care that much about? You don’t voice it, keeping it for yourself.

“I think I’m fine, too. For now, at least.”

You continue your days spending time learning to do nothing. While your quiet Sundays are always spent on the beach with Doyoung, Saturday nights are always Taeyong’s.

After that disaster of a first night, you’ve been careful of your alcohol intake. You tell yourself it’s because you don’t want a repeat, but a part of you holds back at the thought of wanting to be fully energized for your mornings on the beach.

You’ve been thinking too much, and maybe Taeyong has noticed, but he convinces you it’s time to let loose.

You don’t have to be at the pools in the morning—half the time you don’t even help when there isn’t much to clean. You sit and sunbathe while Doyoung works. He’s stopped telling you to leave, but who’s to say he wouldn’t appreciate some solo time?

You resolve yourself to go all out, but you’re not even halfway done with your first tequila soda when you think you may be hallucinating. A familiar face walks into the bar, waving at the two of you awkwardly.

Doyoung stands in front of you, dressed for a night out in his own Doyoung way—some nice fitting pants and a loose black button up giving you a nice view of a silver chain perfectly framed by his collarbones. His hair, usually fluffy and free, is tousled with some gel in just the right way.

He looks mouth watering.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, and Taeyong bounces between you two.

“You’d be surprised, but this guy can hold his liquor 10x better than I can,” Taeyong exclaims.

“I’m not surprised actually,” you tell both of them, already seeing the telltale signs that your friend is drunk.

Taeyong pouts, and you and Doyoung laugh. While Taeyong buys a round of shots for the 3 of you, you nudge Doyoung’s shoulder.

“Match me?”

“You’re gonna regret it.” There’s a playful glint in his eye, and your chest flares as you rise to the challenge.

“Bet.”

It’s safe to say you don’t regret it in the slightest.

Taeyong taps out not too far into the night, tucked safely in some booth with a glass of water until his cab arrives to take him home.

And you and Doyoung? The night flies by in a booth of your own.

You’re talking like you’ve never talked before. He talks about his childhood in that beach town, the trouble he and Taeyong used to get into, the university up the coast he works at on some weekdays. You talk about your favorite cities, the worst jobs you’ve tried, the craziest people you’ve met along the way.

All the while you get to know him, you don’t realize you’ve inched closer. It starts with your hand on his arm as you excitedly explain a random story to the way you sit angled towards him, your knees touching every so often.

And the touches only grow more familiar as the drinks go down.

His hand trails down your forearm, his touch light and feathery. At some point you hold one of his hands in both of yours, playing with his fingers as you talk animatedly about another tangent subject you don’t remember bringing up.

You see even more of Doyoung you haven’t before, and part of you wishes you could snap a picture to keep this memory forever. You can smell his cologne mixed with alcohol, and you hope you can commit the addicting scent to memory.

You’re drunk— it’s evident in the cool feeling of the alcohol sitting in your stomach and the heat in your face. His face is tinged with blush, his eyes are dazed and glossy—he’s just as drunk as you are.

At some point, you make the mistake of closing your eyes as you lean back. You aren’t sleeping, but it just feels nice to rest your eyes, the alcohol making it’s way through your blood stream. Your head lolls to the side and onto a firm shoulder.

“You okay?” Doyoung calls softly to you. You can feel his warm breath close to you and his arm wrap around your form to steady you.

You hum in response, cracking one eye open.

He’s right in front of you, and as his full face comes into view, backlit by the dim lighting in the club, your thoughts betray you.

You like seeing so many sides of Doyoung: annoyed, happy, excited. Yet you want to see yet another side of him—one different from all the rest.

You lean in and kiss him.

It’s a gentle peck, nothing crazy, but it feels like the air stills around you. Like the music and chatter in the background have silenced, like only the two of you exist.

Doyoung doesn’t react like how you think. He doesn’t freeze, get mad, push you away.

No, he closes his eyes, his arm around you holding you tighter, pulling you closer, and meets your lips with his. It’s longer than the one you gave him. You can taste the alcohol on his breath.

His hand trails down your back down to your waist, tugging you closer to him, his kisses deepening.

Your arms wrap around his neck like you’ve done this with him a million times before, and you take the initiative to deepen it even more, loving the way he gasps a bit when your tongue meets his.

The two of you make out for who knows how long, but even when he pulls back, out of breath, lips glistening—you chase him. It all feels too good, and you want more.

He pulls back again.

“You’re drunk.”

The corners of your lips pull up.

“No, you are.”

He sighs, leaning his forehead on yours.

“We’re both drunk.”

“Then it cancels out!”

He lets out another more exasperated sigh, but his lips pull into a smile as well.

“Not how it works.”

Pulling the inside of your lip between your teeth, your eyes trail from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes. He groans.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You bat your eyes innocently.

“Like what, baby?” you tease, but you know where this is going. His eyes darken at the affectionate name. You’re drunk, but you’re entirely in your right mind when you say you need to fuck Doyoung in this moment.

You never really thought about it before despite knowing he was an attractive guy, but the second he walked into the bar looking the way he did, talking to you the way he did, touching you the way he did—there was an unmistakable feeling of desire.

And he seems to have the same feeling, apparent in the way both of you stumble out of the bar, giggling as he keeps a hand wrapped around your waist firmly, his hold on you not faltering even in the taxi back to the guest house.

His lips are back on yours as soon as you’re inside. He pushes you up against the front door as soon as it’s closed, locking it with a click behind you.

He runs his lips down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down its expanse that send shivers through your entire body. For someone usually so patient (through not necessarily without complaints), he’s so impatient, running his hands down your waist and hips, bunching up the bottom of your dress in his hands.

“Fuck, Doyoung, do something,” you moan, and you’re met with his dark gaze.

He falls to his knees, pulling your bottom half towards him, your back still resting on the door. He pushes up your dress, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders.

“Shut up,” he mumbles out, attaching his mouth to your core over your underwear. Your other leg trembles, and it would give out if not for the hold he has on your thigh and ass. He digs his tongue between your folds, finding your clit and pressing the material against it in circles.

You grasp at his hair, tugging slightly, and he groans into your pussy, sending vibrations through your clothed core. Your chest heaves as he has his way with you, moving his tongue from side to side until you’re shaking.

The feeling of the slick, rough fabric pushed by his warm tongue sends shocks down your system, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re cumming with a loud cry, your head shooting up.

You don’t get a chance to recover before Doyoung has you on the bed, him helping you slide your dress up over your head. You take a look at the bit of his chest that peeks out from his shirt.

“You, too. Take it off, Doie,” you in plead, and grins.

“I helped you, why don’t you help me out?” he asks playfully, and in a flash you’re fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, taking in every bit of toned skin that comes into view. You run your hands down his chest, loving the way he shudders under your touch.

“Don’t play, baby.”

He pushes you back in the bed, shrugging his pants off. He kisses down your bare chest, palm kneading at your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples as his tongue glides across it.

You moan at the sensation—everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire. His hot breath on your skin feels more intoxicating than the liquor pumping through your veins.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, “so fucking beautiful.”

His lips trail up back to yours, kissing you even deeper, pressing you into the sheets, grinding his knee into your bare cunt. You moan into his mouth, moving your hips along with his motions.

And all of a sudden, the need to be filled up is far too overwhelming. “Doyoung, please, please,” you cry into his mouth.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures, his voice low and rough as if he’s holding himself back. “Condoms?”

Your head is clouded with desire, and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more than in this moment.

“I’m clean, I’m on the pill—just, please, Doyoung. Please,” you cry.

As if something snaps, he groans, pulling himself from his underwear—his cock stands painfully hard, and you feel yourself salivate at the sight. He spits into his hand, quickly coating his member in his spit, and lines up between your legs.

“Bear with me okay—tell me if it hurts, pretty,” he instructs before pushing into your entrance with a hiss. The stretch burns, but it burns so fucking good, and you move your hips to try and get more of him in you.

“Sh-shit,” he pushes on your lower stomach to hold you in place, but it just leaves you wanting more, your chest heaving with pure desire. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I’ll give you what you want, just stay still,” he growls, moving both hands to your hips, keeping you in place. “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby. Let me take care of you.” You squirm in his hold, but it’s no use—he pins you there with his strong grip until he’s fully sheathed himself in you.

And fuck, it feels so good, so full. And as he starts shallowly thrusting, testing the waters all while gauging the way your expression twists with a watchful eye, all you can do is just lay there and *take it—*and that in itself is such a new feeling for someone so used to getting what you want on your own.

His eyes swirl with lust, but also awe, and you wonder if he likes seeing your different sides as much as you like seeing his. He starts picking up the pace, his cock reaching into you deeper, and you cry out at the sensation, your hands flying to his shoulders to hold onto something.

He sets a steady rhythm, though sometimes his hips stutter sloppily, undoubtedly from the leftover alcohol in his system, and the silver chain hanging around his neck swinging back and forth is hypnotizing.

His gaze never wavers. Even when your eyes roll back, shut, or you move your head around from the sensations of getting pounded into the mattress, his eyes are always on you when your gaze returns to him—and Doyoung looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

The only words exchanged between the slapping sound of skin on skin and the burning sensation between your legs are curses and strings of his name from you and sweet whispers and praises from him.

“So beautiful, so fucking pretty,” he groans like a mantra, “pretty girl like you deserves everything—fuck—gonna take such good care of you.”

You clench around him at the sweet promises, your mind spinning with only thoughts of Doyoung, Doyoung, and Doyoung. You want him to take care of you, you want to be under him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. The feeling of his skin on yours just feels so right.

You pull him closer to you, fully wrapping your arms around his neck. He continues pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow as you cling to him for dear life, his deep groans and grunts in your ears.

“L-let go, let me see you when you cum, baby,” he heaves, holding on as long as he can. Your hold on him loosens, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greets as your face comes into view. “Keep those eyes on me, yeah?” The pressure builds and builds at each thrust, your pussy starting to ripple around him until it’s all too much, and your eyes flutter, trying to do as he says and keep your eyes on him.

You cum around him with a loud gasp, your cries filling the room as he rides out your orgasm. He grits his teeth to hold on until you’ve completely finished, feeling a tightness in his own abdomen before pulling out, jerking himself furiously, his cum painting your stomach in streaks.

You both breathe harshly, coming down from your highs, before he collapses right next to you, an arm thrown over you. You’re so tired and everything is hazy, but you’re 100% sober at this point.

Regret should be filling your system at doing this drunk, but it doesn’t. Doyoung grabs his shirt, wiping your stomach, and settles beside you, tucking his arm under your neck.

And just like how it was when he was inside you, lying beside him feels just as right.

You wake up with pain in your head and your body, still in his grasp. Doyoung is still asleep, breathing steadily. He looks so peaceful. Another piece of him added to your memories.

As if he senses you staring, he stirs slightly before his eyes peek open, blinking off sleep as he makes out your features.

“Hi,” he greets, voice deep and scratchy. It stirs something in your stomach.

“Hi.”

There’s a brief silence, the two of you just looking at each other, knowing you have to address how you got to this point. You dread it.

“…Were you okay with everything? I want to let you know I’m completely okay with what happened last night, but I know we were drunk.” he breaks the silence. The fact that he checks in on you first and foremost makes your chest tighten.

“More than okay,” you assure, yet you know you have to make yourself clear. No matter how right it felt in the moment, it isn’t.

This isn’t meant to be any more than what it is on the surface—a one night stand. You can’t commit right now, not while you’re figuring everything out. You can’t do that to anyone, especially not him.

“But..” you start, and he urges you to continue with a soft gaze. “I don’t want things to change between us.”

He’s silent for a bit, his expression unreadable, and you wish in this moment that you could read his mind.

“I’m sorry if this ruins things,” you double down at his silence.

His lips part as if to say something, and he closes it again. You start to get nervous.

“It doesn’t,” he finally responds. “And things don’t have to change.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. You know Doyoung probably had more to say, but you’re grateful to leave things as is.

He unwraps himself from you, getting up and stretching his arms high over his head with a groan. You stare at his bare back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, every ridge and dip of his muscles. Half of you wants to pull him back down to lay with you, but after what you just said? What he just accepted? It would be unfair.

He peeks back at you. “Mind if I freshen up here before heading to the pools?” he asks, casually as if you didn’t just draw the thickest line between you two. Yet you’re grateful.

“You’re still going even after a night out?”

“Yeah?” he tugs at your covers.

“And you are too, aren’t you?” he asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

With a mix of guilt and warmth in your chest, you let him pull you from your sheets, getting ready to go to the tide pools with him—just like any other Sunday.

It’s been 9 months since you first arrived in the city, 8 months and 2 weeks since you met Doyoung, and you’re conflicted.

The half-year mark is usually when you ask yourself if it’s time to move on from your current state of life. Other jobs, other places, other people have lasted longer, but you’d always made the decision that they’d be that way from the half-year mark.

But now coming into almost a year here with no thoughts of leaving feels weird. Is it that you’re enjoying doing nothing?

That may be so, but you’d be stupid if you didn’t admit that there was something keeping you tethered to this beach town—someone.

Your days are spent with Taeyong and Doyoung, together and individually, doing everything from mundane daily chores to visiting nearby cities. You take weekend trips with the two of them, though you’re sure to be back by Sunday for the weekly tide pool visits.

Taeyong is your platonic soulmate, that’s for sure. But Doyoung—you’re not quite sure what role he plays in your life.

You wish you could write it off as a drunken one-night stand, but the way you end up under Doyoung again and again after that night tells otherwise. Drunk, sober— you can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his skin against yours, his lips on yours, his voice in your ear.

Nights are spent at yours until he finally takes you to his place, a quaint 2 bedroom home left to him by his retired parents, and the more you stay, the more you want to. You can feel yourself slipping.

It all hit you one day after a night with Doyoung, waking up wrapped in his arms as the sunlight peeked through the curtains. It wasn’t a Sunday—time with him at some point bled into every other day of the week.

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” you had asked out of the blue, lazing around with him well into the afternoon since Doyoung didn’t work that day.

You don’t know what possessed you to ask—thinking that far in the future was something you actively avoided, but something in you wanted to see what he’d say. Maybe you thought his answer might inspire your own.

He pondered for a bit before responding.

“Here, hopefully.”

Another silly question left you before you knew it.

“With who?”

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, one you hadn’t experienced with him in a long time, maybe since the first few times you spent with him. Silence with him is usually comfortable, natural, yet in that moment it felt far too cold.

“I’m not sure.”

You don’t know why your heart sank. Maybe a part of you expected him to say you, wanted him to say you, and what he said next made you feel sick.

“I know I want to get married some day, but who knows?”

Marriage. You’d never even thought of that as a possibility in your life.

Loving someone enough to stay with them forever, denying any other possibilities or paths because you’ve made the decision to intertwine your fate with someone else’s—you don’t think you’re even capable of that.

You feel something for Doyoung, you’re certain about it. You’ve spent most of the time in this town with him, and in that time, you don’t think you’ve wanted anything else.

Yet who’s to say you won’t in the future?

You’ve seen this play out in your life far too many times—wanting something so bad it consumes you, uprooting your life in pursuit, and then repeating the process with something else once the passion cools.

The thought of that happening with Doyoung made you sick.

So you did as you always do—you drew the line.

“I guess you’re stuck with me ‘til you find your wife.”

“…I guess so.” He laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You didn’t notice, too busy pushing down the ache in your chest at the thought of Doyoung finding someone else.

He’s a good guy, one of the best you’ve ever met, maybe. He’s stubborn and honest to a fault, but he also would do anything for his loved ones to be happy. He deserves someone who can give him the same.

That’s what you tell yourself, but the way you glare holes into Doyoung at your usual bar with Taeyong peering at you worriedly tells otherwise.

It had been like any other Saturday night, with you coming into the bar, but Doyoung wasn’t glued to your side as usual. A few drinks flew by when Taeyong leaned in, pointing across the bar.

“Do you think he knows her?” Taeyong asked. You turned your head in the direction he was pointing, and that’s when you saw them.

Doyoung and by his side, a very pretty woman, talking to him animatedly with stars in her eyes.

Your throat tightened, your stomach sank, and your head felt light. A flurry of emotions came all at once, and it was far too overwhelming to process at that moment. You had to look away.

“Maybe,” you replied, turning back to the bar to order another drink. And another. And another.

And pretty soon, Taeyong’s the one nursing you for once, having tapped out earlier. He hands you a glass of water, which you take gratefully, your eyes scanning once again for your missing raven-haired friend.

Every thing seems to move in slow motion as you watch him lean down to her, his lips approaching hers, her hand gripping his arm. You see red.

You push through the few people in your way, ignoring Taeyong’s calls for you to stop, quickly storming up to the two of them. The woman next to him looks at you in surprise, and you don’t even get a good look at her face before you snatch Doyoung’s arm from her grip, tugging him along with you.

She shrieks a shrill “what the fuck?!” but you pay no mind, your only goal to get Doyoung as far away as her from possible.

You end up outside the bar, panting from the sheer adrenaline of what you just did.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asks, and when you finally turn to look at him, your heart sinks.

The sharp glare he had when you first met him is back, but there’s more—there’s shock, anger, maybe even resentment. You don’t remember what resentment on him looked like, but you’re sure it gave a similar feeling.

You let go of him, stumbling back, tongue tied at this unfamiliar side of him. You treasure each moment you meet a new side of Doyoung, but in this moment, you don’t know how to feel.

“Well?” he asks expectantly.

“I-um. Who was that?” You could slap yourself for how dumb you must sound, but it’s the only thing you can think of. He clenches his jaw at the question.

“I met her tonight, she’s nice,” he replied, curtly. Your face pulls into a sour look, and you turn away, a flare of anger rising in your chest. You don’t realize flames have burst in his own chest as well.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” he chides. “Didn’t you say you’ll be here until I find my wife, so what’s your problem?”

His wife—he just met her, how could he be taking it this seriously? You aren’t thinking straight, just combative at the idea that he could do everything he does with you with someone else.

“You think your wife is some random at a bar?”

“Hey, you don’t know her,” he bites back, and your heart sinks at his defense.

“… and you were some random at a bar, too, you know?”

He might as well could have taken your heart and stomped on it with those words. It would feel the same.

Even after all this time, is that all it was? He thinks anyone could have what you two have? You know this is unfair, it’s fucked up of you—it doesn’t make sense after every line you’ve drawn, yet you can’t help it.

You crossed all of them a long time ago.

“What the hell, Doyoung? How dare you compare me to her? You don’t even know her!” you deride him, but your voice betrays you as it trembles.

“I’m so much more than that.”

There’s a long silence. You’re too scared to look up at Doyoung. You don’t want him to hate you, not when you’ve gotten so used to the side of him that looks at you with so much warmth.

With love in his eyes.

Fuck.

“You are.”

His voice cuts through, but it lacks any of the venom it had prior. You finally look up at him, and there it is—that look that makes you feel like the only person in the world.

“You are so much more than that to me.”

He takes a step forward, taking your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You’re everything.”

It’s as if the air has been completely swiped from your lungs. No words form in your brain or on your tongue.

“I’m not having this conversation while you’re this shit faced, I’m taking you home.”

“I—” your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyes start stinging, and your head is suddenly spinning. All the fight leaves you, and it feels humiliating. You can’t speak.

Doyoung immediately gathers you into his arms, walking you to his car and tucking you into his passenger seat, and you let him. You gaze at the part in his black hair at the top of his head as he bends over you, clicking your seatbelt into place.

You only look out the window as he starts the car, driving you down the streets you’ve come to know well. He places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing comforting circles into your skin, and you hate how his touch calms you in a second, yet it’s also a reminder that he’s here. With you.

He helps you into the guest house once you arrive, sitting you down on the bed.

For a while, it’s like nothing is wrong. He grabs your makeup removing wipes from the bathroom, dabbing away the product from your skin—gently, like you’re a precious work of art.

He grabs clothes from your closet, handing them to you.

“Change.”

“Help me.”

And he does, wordlessly pulling your dress over your head, replacing it with a soft oversized t-shirt you’d always told him was your favorite to sleep in. He gets you a glass of water, making sure you drink a good amount before placing it on the bedside table.

“Doyoung,” you call.

“Just sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

You bite down your words and lay down, and he sits next to you on the bed. His hand comes to your cheek, wiping at the tears you didn’t even realize started leaving your eyes. Everything feels right with him here, yet in this moment you feel like the worst person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

The corners of his lips turn up just slightly, and he places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“It’s okay.”

It’s just before sunset when you wake up, and Doyoung isn’t there.

When was the last time you came home with him and didn’t wake up to him the next morning? He always woke you up, knowing you’d feel some type of way if he didn’t take you with him or at least say goodbye before leaving.

You feel hollow, as if a piece of you is missing.

It’s over.

It’s time to pack it up, move on and figure out what comes next in your life.

Your eyes catch sight of a note next to the water on the bedside table, and you hold it up with shaky hands.

Happy Sunday, beautiful.

You know where to find me.

You’re so scared, so fucking scared, but for the first time, you don’t move away from what scares you, you run towards it.

Your heart is both at rest and unrest when you see his silhouette at the tide pools, the sunset illuminating him in an array of golden colors. You’re out of breath when you approach him, but you speak before he can even turn around.

“Do you want me?”

The question hangs heavily in the distance between you two.

“What a stupid question,” and he looks like he’s in physical pain when he turns towards you, yet the warmth in his eyes is still there.

“I always want you, but every time I wake up to you, I have to remind myself that you don’t want me in the same way.”

He couldn't be more wrong.

“I think I love you,” you confess, quietly, as if you can't believe you're saying it yourself.

And it’s his turn to be speechless, mouth parted as his eyes widen at your confession.

“I want you, Doyoung— I want you so badly it hurts. This must be so selfish, but part of me thinks—no, wants to stay here forever, but another part of me is so fucking scared.”

He comes closer to you, gathering you in his arms as he always does. “Scared of what, baby?” Everything spills.

“I’m scared that this will just be like every other thing in my life—one day something is the center of my life, and then all of a sudden it means nothing. I won’t find meaning in it and go looking for the next best thing.”

“And is that how you feel about me?” he asks, and it breaks your heart.

“No! No… but what do I do if my feelings go away?” You feel choked up as you pour your heart out to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Doyoung,” you sob, and he pulls you to his chest, letting your tears soak his shirt as his hand rubs soothingly up and down your back. He just lets you let it out, and once you’ve calmed slightly, he continues.

“Please be honest with me—have you… have you felt the way you do for me about anyone else?”

His question hits you square in the chest—harder than any question has ever hit.

Because if you really think about it, every job you’ve had, every hobby you’ve explored, every place you’ve been, every person you’ve met—they’ve never made you feel this way. You’ve always chased and chased fulfillment, but he didn’t need to be chased—he was there, he was willing, he was home.

The thought of leaving terrifies you—and you’ve never felt that way. You’ve lived the pattern of passion and burn-out, but passion has never felt like this.

It’s never felt like the fresh ocean breeze on a sunny day, like the feeling of smooth, jet-black hair threaded between your fingers, like discovering new things about the same person every day and wanting to.

“You don’t have to answer that—actually don’t,” he says, still holding you against his chest. “I’m an adult, you know. I may not have seen as much of the world as you have, but I know what I want.”

You push back slightly so you can look at him, and you can see unshed tears in his eyes, too.

“You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, but if you want me—really want me, then be selfish. Let me be yours. Let me be yours until you think you don’t want me anymore.”

You can’t help the tears that resurface, sniffling as your heart starts to settle.

“Then I’ll remind you again what it felt like in this moment.”

“And how the hell will you do that?” you ask between your tears and hiccups.

“I don't know, but trust me, I’ll figure it out.”

You laugh, and the gummy smile you’ve come to love lights his face.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else,” he assures, holding your face in his hands.

“And I don’t think I ever will.”

His gaze is unwavering, and every last bit of resolve crumbles.

“Please be mine Doyoung, please,” you cry, flinging your arms around him as you bring your mouth to his, the salty taste of your tears sitting between the two of you. When you separate, breathless, his smile has brightened even more. It's the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

“Only if you’ll be mine, too.”

And for the first time in your life, the idea of forever doesn’t feel like the end, but just the beginning.

a/n: it’s done!!!!!!!!!!! this one goes out to my hyperfixaters...... guys,, getting myself to write anything, let alone a full fic, without absolutely hating and scrapping it has been a hard journey. but i'm doing my best, and hopefully that comes across in this fic :') a love letter to doyoung before he goes </3

also no weed??? in my sobriety era! jk ofc not, i just dont want my stuff to get redundant so im branching out, trying new things :)) thank you to bestie boo @onriyuview for beta reading!

please let me know your thoughts on this, feedback and shares are always welcome and appreciated greatly.

You don't miss the blush that spreads across his cheeks, the subtle pink shade making your heart beat even faster.

“Well, I um, I've been thinking,” he swallows hard, and your eyes are drawn to the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with us, and I just wanted to clear something up-”

“Wait–” you cut him off, picturing the last time he was over - you sharing their pizza, sitting next to Yoongi on the sofa and watching them play game - disappointment floods through you at the realisation of what he's about to say, “I get it, you don't like me hanging around you guys all the time. It's fine, I won't crowd you all, and I'll make myself scarce from now on.”

You attempt to hide your dejected tone but are unsure if your acting skills are concealing the sorrow you feel numbing your insides.

“No!” he replies, clearly alarmed. His eyes popping as he strides over, closing the distance between you. “That's not it at all. I like that you spend time with us.” He admits before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ok…” you hesitate, mind racing once again, “so what, then?”

He takes a deep breath. “I, I wanted to ask…”

He takes a tentative step towards you, now so close you can feel the heat from his body and you swallow involuntarily, the loud sound filling the thick silence. When you meet his eyes, there's an intensity that takes your breath away.

“I've been sensing something…” he starts, eyes travelling down to your mouth as you lick your lips nervously. “...something between us…” he continues.

Your heart stammers wildly at his words, unable to form a coherent thought with his proximity.

“...and I need you to tell me if it's just all in my head. If it is, I'll leave you alone and never mention this again.” He watches you, picking his nails anxiously as he waits for a reaction. The words die in your throat when you open your mouth to speak, as you pinch your bottom lip and roll it between your fingers, while your mind races for a response.

He reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “So…is it?”

Swallowing again, you manage to whisper out, “Is it, what?”

He smiles sweetly at you, “Is it just in my head?”

This is the moment you've waited for. Your chance to confess and no longer house your feelings secretly inside. But as you stand here, so close you can now feel his breath on your face, there are no words that sound right. Nothing that is good enough. So instead, you simply shake your head.

His eyes light up, that gummy smile forming again. “Really?”

This is your moment, but words aren't enough, you need to show him what he means to you.

Grabbing the collar of his jacket you gently pull him down to you, as you lift yourself on tiptoes to press your lips against his.

There's a moment of surprise, more at yourself for having the courage to do what you've thought about for months. Relishing the softness of his kiss, there was a tenderness in his urgency that mesmerised you. A silent understanding of feelings you couldn't yet put into words.

Before long the urgency grows, as his arms wind eagerly around your waist and lift you off the floor completely. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, with a fire in your belly burning so bright all of you is throbbing with a searing heat. His mouth moves against yours hungrily and you respond with hands fisting into his hair as he staggers quickly across the living room. Kicking the door to your bedroom shut as he enters, hands kneading your bare buttocks that are now poking out of your shorts.

Yoongi strides over to the bed, sitting as soon as his thighs touch the edge of the mattress, a frantic mess of hands removing his jacket as he pulls off your hoodie, while you straddle him.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, pulling away slightly. “I need to clarify something.”

Your body tenses, anxiety plaguing you at the thought of the next words out of his mouth.

He takes a deep breath and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes back up to him. “I don't want this to be just sex.” He hesitates, watching your reaction carefully, “I am yours wholeheartedly, and I want you to be mine.”

Your heart swells rapidly in your chest, so large it feels ready to explode. The words you've dreamt of are finally being said and this time, you find yourself too.

“Take me, I've been yours for a long time.”

His eyes burn into yours so fiercely it sets your mind, body and soul alight under his doting gaze.

Your mouths connect again, a wild clash of tongues and teeth, as you press your body against his. Grinding your hips down on him, his erection rubs against the perfect spot, and makes you moan against his mouth.

His lips begin to explore your neck, creating a trail of wet kisses that light a fire in their wake.

“I need you inside me, Yoongi,” you whine. “Please.”

You can’t bear to be teased, or to wait to feel him; you've waited long enough.

Taking action, you slide yourself backwards slightly, your hands shaking with excitement as you fumble at his jeans, yanking open the button and reaching into his boxers to set his thick, solid cock free. You pull your shorts aside, and slide yourself down on him, as he pushes his face against your chest, your breasts muffling his groan. As he stretches you open, the feeling, painful yet delicious, only makes you more eager but he holds your hips firmly keeping you in place on his lap, fingers almost bruising the skin.

“I won't last long,” he pants. “I've waited so long for you.”

Placing a gentle kiss against his lips, you begin to rock yourself back and forth. “That's ok, baby, neither will I.”

With every swirl of your hips, he hits the perfect spot inside you, stealing the breath from your lungs as you grow closer to your release.

“Fuck,” he moans, the sound arousing you beyond belief, “you feel so good around me.”

His hands go under your bra, groping your breasts softly and rolling your nipples between his fingers, the sensation causing a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You’re so focused on him; on every lust-filled gaze of his that lands on your face and the way his eyes stay focused on your sex as you move; every sensual noise he makes in pleasure, knowing you're the one causing it. And every part of your skin that his hands or lips touch sends electricity rippling through you.

His hands grip at your backside and make their way down to your entrance, fingers touching your slick where he's sliding in and out of you.

“You're so wet for me.” He gasps, bringing a finger up and sucking the arousal off.

Your hips move faster as you chase your end, and you realise how much this quiet man whom you adore enjoys talking dirty.

“Keep going, baby,” he says, as his mouth explores your neck, sending goosebumps cascading down your body.

“You're riding me so good, fuck!” He throws his head back, veins bulging at his neck as it's clear he's struggling to hold on. That sight alone has you coming undone, spasming wildly around him.

“Yes, that's it.” His head snaps forward as he watches you writhe in ecstasy above him. “Come around this dick.”

As your greedy cunt squeezes him with each wave of pleasure, he stares in awe and when they subside, you return back to earth and can focus on him once again. The strained look on his face and the way he's biting his bottom lip shows he's eager to let go.

“You need to come, baby?” you ask, and he nods frantically.

You slide yourself off and watch the disappointment contort his features. His eyebrows knit together, full of sorrow, but his pained expression soon disappears when you drop to the floor on your knees and take him in your mouth instead.

“Oh, fuck.” he cries out, thrusting up inside you, matching the rhythm of your bobbing head. He grabs a fistful of your bed sheets with one hand and the other gently holds the back of your head. “That's it, take all of me, like such a good girl.” he whispers between pants.“I'm-I…don't stop, fuck, I'm gonna come.”

He releases into your mouth, the salty, sweet taste takes over your senses, as rope after rope of the warm, thick liquid goes straight down your throat. When he's empty, you pull yourself off with a pop, making his legs twitch, the sight amusing you, as he throws himself back on your bed. His arms flared out either side of him and breathing hard. You climb up next to him, and watch the movement of his chest as it rises and falls. He looks over at you, grinning, cheeks tinted red.

“Don't tell me you've gone shy on me now?” you say, giggling as you stroke the hair from his face.

He sits up on his elbows, leaning up to gently clasp your chin in his hand as he stares at you. His eyes are full of adoration and awe and it reawakens the butterflies in your stomach, sending them swarming into chaos inside you. He presses his lips to yours, no longer desperate or needy but full of a promise to you.

“Bullshit.” you snicker. You were growing irritated by the second. You didn’t have time to sit and chit chat with the less than.

You spin on your heels and venture down the hallway, the man hot on your trail. You are well familiar with this club and know down the hall to the right is where you’d find exactly who you were looking for. Your hand wraps around the knob and you slam it open. Just as you walk in, the man grasps you by your arm once more and yanks you back.

Yoongi watches as your free arm reaches back and punches Haru right between the eyes. The man, tall and bulky, stumbles back in shock. His lip twitches as he watches you continue to hit the tall man who is far too stunned to initially speak. He’s seated at his desk, cigarette between his fingers. Your scream, mixed with the music coming from down the hall, is echoing off of his walls.

“You stupid bitch-”

Though you were well-trained since a child alongside the very man you come to see - and more - you still had a bit of a disadvantage. You were told that men were naturally stronger than women and by the look in Haru’s eyes, he was done being nice with you. His fist tightens and before he has the chance to do anything, there’s a gunshot that rings through the air.

Haru gasps, a stinging in his shoulder. He falls back against the door, his hand clenching the gunshot wound that’s now oozing blood. You stand a bit straighter, rolling your eyes.

Yoongi’s right hand has his gun pointed in the air when you turn to meet his gaze. His cigarette hangs lazily from his lips, dark eyes meeting yours.

Footsteps gather in the hallway as Haru begins to sob. Soon, familiar faces crowd the room.

“What the fuck?”

Jungkook looks between you and Yoongi and immediately he has a clue.

“I thought we had rules?”

Jimin’s arms are crossed as he steps into the room. Haru is bleeding out and he couldn’t care less.

“Y/N.” Jimin nods his head towards you. “What a pleasure.”

“Can we get someone to get him out of here?”  Jin sounds disgusted. “He’s bleeding all over the floor and I don’t like the smell of iron.”

Yoongi drops his gun onto the table and proceeds to take his seat at the desk. 

“Ah, isn’t it the infamous Y/N.” Taehyung leans against the open door. “What is it this time, hyung? Did Haru try to get with her?” he snickers. His eyes look down the hall. “Take him somewhere, please. He’s annoying me with all that whimpering he’s doing.”

Yoongi exhales the smoke from his nose, eyes darting around the room.

“He was going to hit her.” Yoongi answers coolly.

Jungkook furrows his brows, but he remains quiet. You were a woman, sure, but he’s watched you take down men bigger than Haru before. You weren’t the primadonna Yoongi treats you at times.

 “Y/N, what can I help you with?” Yoongi questions, his attention turning to you. “Drink?”

“I suppose I’ll take my leave.” Jimin announces. Whatever you wanted - especially if you came to Yoongi solely and not all of them - meant that it wasn’ for his ears. “I have inventory to take care of.”

The room is silent once more as Jin was the last to leave, closing the door behind him. Yoongi awaits your response, pouring you a glass of whisky to match his own. He motions for you to sit in the seat across from him, his cigarette smoke dancing in the air.

You drop your purse on the desk, uncaring if a few items drop due to the weight of it. Your eyes are hard and glaring and with that, excitement runs through Yoongi’s body.

“My men,” you begin, voice cold and laced with venom. “are dead.”

Yoongi picks up the glass and places it against his lips. He takes a sip, eyes watching you. “And you’re telling me…because?” he murmurs a response before taking a sip.

Instantly, your hand slaps the glass out of Yoongi’s palm. It crashes against a nearby wall, sending liquid flying everywhere.

“My men are dead and I know you motherfuckers-”

Yoongi stands, his chair scraping against the floor. His face comes closer to yours, so close that you can smell the liquor already on his breath. 

“Bangtan didn’t kill your men, Y/N.” Yoongi hisses.

“Bull. Shit.” your teeth grits.

You were only 21 when you inherited this empire from your father - much to your dismay and possibly that of those working for him. You weren’t a man, you always heard. This was a man’s world you were in - the drugs, the trafficking, the murder. A woman didn’t belong in it, and yet it all belonged to you now. 

Your father didn’t have any more children after you. You often thought about how easier your life would be if you were a boy growing up. You didn’t have time to think about what the other girls did growing up - the birthday parties with friends, sleepovers. You didn’t attend a school so those homecomings or prom you’d see on T.V. weren’t for you. The birthday party you begged your father to give you were littering with the same gang members, murderers and drug traffickers you grew up alongside.

Now here you stand, years later. A shell of your former self. You contemplate if you lack the natural empathy and softness you witness other women have. As a child, you told yourself by this age, you’d be married with kids - not leading a syndicate. Marriage and children appeared to be out of the question as you couldn’t stand a man for longer than 3 minutes - the misogyny, the audacity and overall incompetence.

“Bangtan and Deathrow,” you roll your eyes; partly because you hated the family names chosen by people who were dead now. “for years now we have been rivals. However,” Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips. “we have never harmed you or your men.”

You inhale deeply. You stretch the kink in your neck before responding. “Deathrow and Bangtan are the only families that run anything around here.” you grit. “And I have a dozen dead bodies and no one to account for them.”

Yoongi’s eyes glances down to your own lips. He’s fascinated that even when you surround yourself with such heinous activities, you haven’t given yourself up. The heels, the light makeup, and not a single hair out of place. 

Yoongi was also a bit drunk and he shouldn’t be growing hard right now - especially not when you’re glaring daggers at him. 

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Yoongi’s voice softens a bit.

Your eyes glance away.

Things were complicated when it came to you and Yoongi - or the rest of them. While Yoongi had 6 other people to rely on with equal responsibility, you only had yourself. You couldn’t afford to have a day off when you had everything your own family has worked hard for on the line. The people who worked under you had their own mouths to feed and juggling it all was far too much for one person to handle.

The feud between Deathrow and Bangtan was once a partnership. You grew up alongside Yoongi and the rest of them. Jungkook is just a couple years younger than you. You recall the way you would wrestle with him in your youth. It was Hoseok who showed you how to shoot a gun for the first time and you trained alongside him instead of you both attending middle school. 

The rivalry began with an unknown traitor that divided both sides and though you remained cordial with the boys, now men, you grew up alongside, it was evident where your loyalty and theirs must lie.

“You got my birthday gift.” Yoongi states. His eyes almost didn’t catch it, but you’re wearing the necklace around your neck. The diamond-studded chair with an oval-cut gemstone; your birthstone. It was a gift he had sent to you on your birthday and though he had not expected you to say anything in return, he had hoped you kept it.

Your body warms at the realization that you hadn’t taken off the necklace prior to coming. You swallow a bit, your throat aching.

Yoongi rounds the corner of his desk warily. He would never hurt you and he doubts you would either, but he doesn’t know where your mind is now and he doesn’t want to set you off.

“There’s been a little trouble around here, as well.” Yoongi murmurs. His hand touches your arm, slightly bringing you closer to him. “A few of our own men have died. It seems we may have a bit of competition.”

The scar on Yoongi’s right eye is the constant reminder of the history you and he shared. Without thinking of your actions, your hands lift to touch Yoongi’s cheek. Your fingers slide across the long, red scar, the memories of that time flooding back to you. The way Yoongi’s lips pressed against your warm skin, his large hands sliding up your sides. Those same lips kissing down your chest, to your stomach and right between your legs. His tongue flickers between your folds, his fingers diving right into you and pumping in a way that only he knows how.

Then, the memories come crashing down. Your bedroom door crashes open and you’re forced to cover your naked body. Your father doesn’t bother to look down at you and instead focuses his entire attention to Yoongi, men surrounding your bedroom and making their way towards Yoongi.

“What do you want me to do?” Yoongi asks. His larger hand places itself over your hand. It causes you to come back to reality - the present. 

You blink, removing your hand from his face. Yoongi doesn’t like it; he feels a breeze run through him. 

“I want you to find out who killed my men.” you say, voice hardening. “And take them out.”

Yoongi furrows his brows, a smirk forming onto his lips. He tilts his head at you. You were so cute when you demanded bloodshed. 

“You’re too beautiful to be running a syndicate, Y/N.” Yoongi tells you. He has the urge to hold you like he used to, but he holds himself back. “You deserve to be doted on.”

“Stop fucking playing with me, Yoongi.” you hiss, eyes darkening. “I have product to move and the men that were supposed to do that are being buried. I have to make arrangements for their families. My fucking product-”

“Is it stolen? Ours, as well.” Yoongi quips. 

“-and I don’t have time for you to be fucking flirting with me!”

Yoongi cracks a smile and instantly, your hands crash against his chest.You shove him as hard as you could.

“Yoongi-”

“Your issue isn’t with me, Y/N.” Yoongi embraces you, unphased by your outburst. “You and I have a common enemy.”

Yoongi’s cologne is citrusy and musk and instantly you calm down. You want to melt in his arms and have your worries go away, but you cannot.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Yoongi questions.

“I came here for your help.” you whisper - and he has to know how difficult it was for you to do this. 

“I know. That isn’t what I meant.” Yoongi holds you closer. He doesn’t want to let you go - not like he was forced to. His eyes peer into yours. “You’re stressed and you’re doing it all alone. Let me help you.” he murmurs. “Let us help you.”

Yoongi’s nose is tickling yours and his lips are only a breath away. You’ve once again found yourself in this predicament; right in his arms. You inhale his scent once more and then sigh.

“I missed you.” Yoongi speaks.

“I didn’t come here for that.”

“I know.” Yoongi grins. “You come to use me like you always do.”

You’re silent, eyes unblinking as you look at Yoongi.

“That’s what you do. You come in here and demand something because you know I’ll do whatever you ask.” Yoongi continues. His arms tighten around your embrace. 

“So…I’m a user?” you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m a man and I’m supposed to be a provider.”

You’re quiet.

“And I’ll keep providing for you, Y/N…all you have to do is let me.”

Yoongi’s lips are soft and you instantly melt against them. You’re unsure how much you truly missed him until you finally had him in your hands. The years you’ve gone by keeping him at a distance has led him to this very moment now.

Yoongi doesn’t care about anything on his desk anymore. He gladly hoists you up onto the desk and forces your legs apart, your skirt rising up. His tongue dances around with yours, large hands cupping your hips to assure you remain close. 

It takes Yoongi forever to remove his lips from yours, but when he does it only trails down the side of your face to your jaw, then chin. Your breathing increases as he reaches your neck. His warm tongue circles the nape of your neck, a low groan coming from his throat.

“Y/N…”

Your breathing hitches at the sound of your name coming from Yoongi’s lips - so deep and vulnerable, yet dripping with years full of lust.

“What do you want from me, Yoon?”

Yoon, you haven’t called him that in years. 

“You know what I want.” Did you?

Your legs tighten around Yoongi’s waist, bringing him closer. You can feel him melt in your embrace. As much as you try to hide it, there isn’t a point in lying to yourself in saying that you didn’t want Yoongi, either. You missed his hands on you; touching you in ways only he knew how to.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you sigh, your hands on his shoulders squeezing. You can feel Yoongi’s bulge right at your core. You roll your hips just to tease him. “find out who’s behind our missing product.”

Yoongi inhales deeply for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. He was going to do what you asked of him, regardless if he was involved or not. It’s what he always did for you, no matter the rivalry between both families. “You’re such a handful.” Yoongi exhales, yet he wouldn’t have you any other way.

“Good thing you have two hands.”

With the same two hands, Yoongi had worked overtime. It took a week for him to find out just who was behind it, but there wasn’t a time limit. In the meantime, he had allowed you to borrow some of his men to move your product - an action that would’ve been frowned upon if he wasn’t who he was in the family.

Jin watches amused with how ruthless Yoongi could be when it comes to you. The man, often lazy and would rather sit behind the scenes and direct others to do his work, was now getting his own hands dirty. That’s what Hoseok and Jungkook were for, yet he joins the younger men just because you asked him to.

“To think it’s been…” Jimin does the math in his head. “...what? Six years?” he asks Jin. He assembles the stolen drugs into duffle bags. 

“Just about.” Jin responds, the screaming of the tortured man nothing but background noise.

Six years since Yoongi and you were…anything. It was evident that Yoongi had set his sight on you since youth; silently, of course. He lingered around you for too long for anyone to not get the hint. It only increased as you grew older and grew into your own feminine figure that Yoongi found himself having to show others that he was serious about courting you. 

That meant shooting someone right in the leg - but other’s got the point. The downfall of Bangtan and Deathrow only meant the downfall of you and Yoongi’s relationship; he grew grumpier, more silent and care little about anything unless it directly involved you.

“We need to get information from him, hyung,” Jungkook sighs, watching the way Yoongi appears to leave the man's head underneath the running water far too long. “not just torture him.”

“He’s probably intimidated since it’s three of us.” Hoseok calls, leaning against the wall. 

“Probably.” Yoongi calls. He shuts off the water and turns his sights to Jungkook and Hoseok. “Get the rest of the drugs and weapons and load them in the truck.”

Hoseok knits his brows. “But-”

“Fine.” Jungkook shrugs, locking eyes with Hoseok. There wasn’t a point in arguing with Yoongi now. He know just as well as the rest of them that he was going to stop; his adoration for you far exceeded his own sanity.

Once alone, Yoongi shoves the man back into the seat. He grabs his pocket knife and undoes the robe around one wrist. He then slams it against the table. “Okay,” Yoongi murmurs, dark eyes locking in with terrified ones. “I want all the names that were in charge of the job.”

The man shakes his head. “Please-”

“It wasn’t a choice.” Yoongi snickers. “You…upset someone I care about.” the cold metal of the plastic knife presses against the man's cheek. “And I’m going to right this wrong, okay? Now right before one of them died, they said it was around five of them.”

Yoongi removes the knife from the terrified man’s cheek and proceeds to place it against the man’s thumb. “You have five fingers. Let’s count down the names, shall we?”

“P-Please, I don’t know-”

A blood curdling scream echoes off of the walls. Blood shoots out from the man's thumb, painting the wooden table crimson.

“Name’s.” Yoongi deadpans. He’s already making his way towards the index.

“Wu-”

Index finger is the next to go - only because he was sick of playing games. 

“Shinra!” the man suddenly belts, the veins on his neck pulsing at losing another finger.

Yoongi is covered in blood by the time he’s done, but he’s satisfied. He would never consider himself blood thirsty. He hated getting dirty. Jungkook and Hoseok were always on this type of job - but if it was something you’d ask him to do (and you had) he had no issues. 

“There has to be another way, hyung.” Jungkook says as Yoongi emerges, soaked in blood. “Flowers or something. You’re covered in blood.”

“Y/N isn’t exactly a normal woman, now is she?” Jin calls from outside. He slams the trunk close. “Though I don’t think she called for so much blood shed.”

Of course, however, Yoongi wasn’t going to listen. He was told to handle the problem and the only way he knew how was bloodshed. 

“Who’s coming with me?” Yoongi questions.

“Now?” Jungkook lifts his brows. “You don’t want to change first?”

“No.” Yoongi deadpans, his eyes narrowing. He glances around to the faces of his brothers. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you asked for anything in return of Y/N yet?” Jin asks. “Don’t you think you need a little…more?” Yoongi swallows. He shrugs his shoulders.

“There can’t be any rivalry, anymore. Not on Bangtans end, right?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Why not join forces again? It would save all of us a headache.”

“And Y/N could relax, as well. She’ll have our help and won't have to lead alone.”

The quiet part doesn’t need to be said aloud, Jin thinks. Having you closer meant that Yoongi would be more at ease. 

“I have plans.” Yoongi answers. “You know I cannot go to Y/N empty handed. I have to do what she asks first.”

“Of course.” Jimin shrugs one shoulder. “Do you need any more help, hyung?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ll deal with the rest alone. We should get whatever product we have back to the warehouse.”

“I agree.” Hoseok nods. “Bangtan and Death Row nearly lost millions in profit because of…what do they call themselves?”

“Who cares?” Yoongi snorted - because after today, there wouldn’t be any of them standing to utter their name.

Yoongi’s seats are leather and of course the blood would surely stain them, but he doesn’t care. He could get another car if it came down to it. He was on a mission; a hunt. He wouldn’t go back to you empty handed like he promised and he has five names on the list who he had to deal with prior to returning to you.

You know of Yoongi’s presence immediately. You hadn’t talked to him much in the week that it took for him to handle the problem. Your driveway is long and it allows you enough time to walk down the staircase and meet him at the door after you buzz him in.

From the large, oval-shaped window you can see Yoongi get out of the SUV, door slamming behind him. He appears relaxed, glasses over his eyes. There’s a breeze in the air that causes his dark tresses to dance in it. It’s nearly an hour before sunset and Yoongi’s skin glows beneath the orangey tint that makes your heart leap.

Your eyes tear away as he begins to gather something from his passenger seat. Your eyes turn to the large mirror in your foyer and ponder if what you were wearing was appropriate. This was Yoongi, after all, and though it’s been years, he’s seen it all already. That, and you weren’t exactly expecting him tonight so the nightgown shouldn’t appear as trying too hard.

You meet Yoongi at the door, opening it just wide enough for you to see him and vice versa. 

“Y/N.”

“Yoongi.” you respond. “You could’ve had me meet you at the warehouse.”

Yoongi knows you aren’t upset with his presence here. Your eyes glance down to his hands, now noticing his left is holding a small, leather bag and his right a bouquet of flowers.

Glancing back up at Yoongi, you furrow your brows.

“Can I come in?” Yoongi asks, voice cool and relaxed. 

You open the door wider and Yoongi takes his invitation. As the door closes behind him, Yoongi turns to face you. Your nightgown is black and silk and he notices it hugs your curves perfectly, but he didn’t come here to dwell. 

“Why are you holding flowers?”

Yoongi holds out the bouquet for you, his own eyes matching the stoicness of your own. 

Your hands are trembling when you grasp them, an embarrassed jolt flowing through your body. You avoid his gaze.

“I handled our problem.” Yoongi speaks first. He lifts the small, leather bag and holds it with both hands. He slowly opens it - as if to build tension and anticipation. “And they are no longer a threat.”

Yoongi doesn’t care for these men, but you were an empathetic person. He knows you’d want to know more about these men, and what better way than to find out who they truly were than by checking their fingerprints?

Severed thumbs sit inside the small bag right on top of ice. You could laugh right now at how cheesy Yoongi can be at times. Slowly, he closes the bag and tilts his head.

“They’re a small organization that holds no real power.” Yoongi goes on. 

“Are they dead or just missing fingers?”

You’re positive you know the answer. Yoongi wasn’t one to allow anyone to walk free - especially if it concerned you.

“Dead.” Yoongi shrugs. There’s a small table in the foyer that Yoongi places the bag on. His eyes meet yours and a smile appears on his lips. “You’re still wearing the necklace.”

Your palms squeeze the bouquet. Licking your lips, you shrug. “It was a gift, was it not?” 

You turn on your heels, making your way the opposite way and towards the kitchen. Yoongi follows you, allowing his eyes to wander your body freely as now it was just you and him.

You had a vase around here somewhere so you can put these flowers in. 

“I suppose I owe you.” you say over the running water. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you right now and there’s a bit of excitement that runs through you.

“Do you?”

You turn the water off and turn around, vase in hand. You go towards the island and begin to place the bouquet of flowers, one by one inside the vase. Yoongi notices a small grin on your lips as you assemble them to your liking. 

“You still like sunflowers.” Yoongi notes. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Yoongi recalls the time you said that you didn’t prefer roses as they were often clique. Yet, you also never received flowers before as you weren’t in the lifestyle to receive them from anyone - not unless it was on a gravestone. But you stated that if anything, you’d prefer sunflowers.

Your hands slide off of the bouquet and you face him. Yoongi is watching you watch him. “I haven’t thanked you.” you murmur softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He must’ve showered right before coming here as he smells entirely too clean; not a complaint in the slightest. 

“Of course I do.” you murmur. “You helped me with my problem.”

“You knew I would. That’s why you came to me.”

You don’t need to respond as he was correct. You always knew Yoongi would do what you ask - which made going to him easier for you. It was a guarantee that he would get it done with no questions asked; everytime.

“How long can you stay?” you question, eyes blinking up at him. Your fingers dance on the back of his neck softly.

“However long you’d have me.” Yoongi hums, his nose touching yours. ”What are you trying to give me?”

You swallow, lifting so your lips were ghosting his. “Whatever you want.” you murmur.

“Whatever?”

You nod your head, eyes slowly closing. You’re expecting his lips to meet yours in the same passionate kiss you and he shared a week prior. Instead, Yoongi pushes himself away from you, his warmth immediately gone.

Slowly, your eyes open to find Yoongi going through his pant pockets. “Yoon-”

Your mouth immediately shuts when Yoongi’s fingers take out a small, square box. He opens it, the diamond ring shining back at you. It’s oval cut with surrounding smaller rings around the base. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss as Yoongi begins to lower to his knee. “Get up.”

“What?” Yoongi furrows a brow. “Why? Isn’t this what girls typically want?”

Your eyes widen and you stare at Yoongi as if he’s insane. He had to be.

“You thought I wanted you to get on your fucking knees with a ring?!”

Yoongi blinks. 

You jerk your neck, waiting for a response.

“Y/N,” Yoongi coughs, cheeks dusting red. “will you-”

“No!” you hiss, your hands forming fists and body heating up. You yank Yoongi’s shoulders and force him onto his feet. “What-”

“I was trying to be romantic.” Yoongi snaps the ring box close and sighs. “Jin told me-”

“Your first mistake was listening to Jin.” you grumble with rolled eyes.

“My first mistake was assuming you’d listen to me.” Yoongi retorts. “I don’t want to just fuck you as payment, Y/N. You aren’t some whore.”

You were growing nervous underneath Yoongi’s gaze. 

“I want Bangtan and Death Row to be allies again.” Yoongi continues. “I want us,” he waves his hands between the two of you. “to be…more.”

“There is no us.” 

Yoongi doesn’t blink when the words leave your mouth, but he visibly stiffens. 

“There can’t be.”

“Why not?” Yoongi protests. “Am I not good enough for you? I’m only good when you want to use me?”

You’re taken aback by the venom in Yoongi’s voice. He never spoke to you in such a tone.

“Do you not know how many men I’ve killed for you?” Yoongi hisses. “I drop whatever I’m doing to come to your beck and call and you’re going to tell me that there isn’t anything between us? That there can’t be?”

You’re unsure how to respond, but Yoongi is already stepping closer. His presence, until now, has never been threatening to you. His eyes are wide and angered and they’re directed towards you.

“It’s not you-”

“If you say it’s not you, it’s me,” Yoongi chuckles bitterly. “I might just scream.”

“It is me, Yoon.” you hiss. “I…you want me to be a fucking housewife. I don’t even know how to cook-”

“I do.” Yoongi shrugs. “Do you think I don’t have enough money for a private chef?” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your lip.

“I…I don’t even clean-”

“Isn’t that what’s the maid for?” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders again. He wasn’t going to allow you to excuse yourself from anything you’d say.

“I-”

“I don’t care what you can or cannot do, Y/N.” Yoongi interrupts. “Have I not proved myself worthy to you for years now?”

“It’s not about…” you trail off, closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “...you know it isn’t about that.”

“Then please enlighten me, Y/N.” Yoongi’s frustration was seeping through. He felt as though his head was going to explode. “You know how I feel about you. You know I love you.”

Your eyes flutter open to look at Yoongi’s. His stoic eyes stare right back at you. 

“You know I love you.” Yoongi repeats, voice softening. “So why won’t you allow me to take care of you? You don’t even want to do all of this.”

Yoongi knows you like the back of his hand. He understands that you were brought into this life to one day take over an entire syndicate, even if it wasn’t something you wanted. Your father’s death came entirely too sudden and overnight, you had to grow up and handle it all. But he knows the real you.

“You think jumping straight to marriage is what I want?” you couldn’t help but snicker. 

Yoongi straightens his shoulders. “Probably not.” he admits, shrugging a bit. “You told me that you wanted to be married before.”

“When I was a dumb teenager?” your lip twitches. “I-”

“You told me you wanted to go on a date and experience a normal life. Outside of this.” Yoongi interrupts. “So let’s do it.”

“Do what?” You blink.

“Go…on a date?” Yoongi clears his throat. There’s a tint of redness forming onto his cheeks. 

“You’ve never asked a girl on a date before, have you?” you scoff, but you’d be lying if you said your own cheeks weren’t warm. 

“And you’ve never been asked on a date.” Yoongi retorts, a grin forming onto his lips. “So we’re one of the same.”

For a moment, you and Yoongi are silent as the two of you stare at one another. Your body is warm, your heart fluttering stupidly like it had when you were a teenager whenever Yoongi was around. It involved sneaking around a lot to assure your father never caught on to what you were doing.

You bite your lip, taking a deep breath. What could go wrong?

“I guess…a date wouldn’t hurt.” you murmur.

“Good.” Yoongi couldn’t help the smile that forms onto his lips. “How about now?”

“Now?” your eyebrows lift. That didn’t give you enough time to procrastinate in your closet if Yoongi was already here waiting for you.

“What could go wrong?”

Turns out, a lot could go wrong on a date.

For normal people, a lot could’ve been the restaurant being booked for hours. Or traffic. Maybe even cancelling on the other person.

However, you and Yoongi weren’t normal people. A normal dinner date turned into an ambush entirely, bullets flying past the two of you in such rapid speed that it took a second too long for Yoongi to even be prepared for it. 

“It’s just my shoulder.” Yoongi grunts, a hand against his bleeding wound. He was breathing heavily, his right hand - the same side he was just shot in - currently holds the gun. 

“I fucking hate you.” you seeth at Yoongi, a look of pure panic on your face. Your own heart was beating rapidly and tears brimmed your eyes. “I told you I should have brought my gun you idiot-”

Another shot rings out, this time from Yoongi. You’re unsure how he’s managing to still fire from behind the car while bleeding out.

It was Yoongi’s idea for you to not bring your own protection for once. He stated that you wouldn’t need it - an attempt to slowly wean you off of your mafiosa lifestyle that you were born into. Now you were regretting believing his words - not because you never felt safe around Yoongi, but it was also about helping Yoongi when he was in need.

“Give me the gun.” you demand, wiping your pathetic tears away. Why were you on the verge of crying when you were you? 

Yoongi glances at you, frown deepening.

“Y/N-”

“I wasn’t asking.” you hiss. Yoongi had managed to take down two men, but there were still two left sending out shots - and you were beyond pissed.

Yoongi hands you his gun with a stoic expression. You had sense called your own men for backup and knowing Bangtan, they weren’t far behind. You are unaware if the men that ambushed you had more on the way and quite frankly, you didn’t want to stay to find out.

You’re crouching around the car, gun in your hands. Your eyes zone in on one man behind another car, his eyes set on where Yoongi is behind his car, waiting for another shot to give out.

You scoff, raising your gun and closing one eye before shooting. The bullet shoots right through his head, blood splattering as his body falls limp.

“You assholes ruined my fucking date!” you hiss angrily, aiming the gun at the other shooter, hitting him right in the shoulder. As his gun drops, you rise to your feet and begin to storm towards him.

Yoongi wouldn’t consider himself a completely dominant man. He was alright with having a woman by his side as an equal -  a woman like you. You knew how to lead just as much as he did. His eyes watch the way your heels click against the concrete as you storm towards the huffing, bleeding man. Your eyes are glaring directly at him, hand pointing the gun right into his face.

“Please-”

Yoongi jerks when the gun slams against the man's face and he’s sent flying against the concrete. His breathing increased - this wasn’t the time. His pants grow tight as he watches you continue to slam your gun against his face. He licks his lips at how amazing your legs looked from here - how your dress makes your ass appear even greater.

Yoongi exhales, getting up from leaning against his car and making his way towards you. His shoulder is throbbing and he was bleeding at an alarming pace but it was nothing he’s never felt before.

“Who,” SLAM. “the fuck” SLAM. “are you” SLAM. SLAM. “working for!”

Blood shoots from the man's mouth and Yoongi is close enough to wrap a hand onto your waist.

“If you keep beating him he won’t be able to talk.” Yoongi murmurs, but he admits you look entirely beautiful when you are aggressively upset. “Hoseok can’t be far. Him and Jungkook would get the information out of him.”

“Fuck.” you hiss one last time before slamming the gun against the man's already bloodied and bruised face. “We gotta stop the bleeding-”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi shakes his head with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re obviously not fine, Yoongi.” you deadpan, turning to him. “I can see the blood dripping from your shoulder. Do I look like an idiot?”

Yoongi’s lip twitches and he holds back a laugh. He doesn’t want to appear as if he was taking you for a joke - he wasn’t. 

Tires squeal to a stop and Yoongi turns his head to the sound of it. Just as Hoseok and Jungkook arrive, so do a few of your own men. 

“What do we have here?” Hoseok asks, slamming his car door open and his eyes roam around the bloodied scene. 

“Looks like we have a bigger problem than stolen product.” Jungkook answers. He’s holding rope in his hands. 

“Miss.”

One of your men come besides you, his eyes examining you. ‘“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you murmur. Jungkook was wrapping the man - who’s in and out of consciousness, with the rope. “Clean this mess up.” you say, putting Yoongi’s gun back on safety. “And figure out who these motherfuckers are. Immediately.”

“Yes.” 

Yoongi swallows, his eyes roaming to the way your hips sway as you walk towards his car and open the backseat. You’re ripping apart your own cardigan for him to wrap his shoulder for the time being.

Yoongi watches you as you walk back towards him, taking the ripped cloth towards his shoulder. He’s silent, but he’s upset that the date has been ruined. For the first time, you and he had the chance to be normal for a few hours - and it was ruined by reality. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes glance up at Yoongi as you tighten the cloth underneath his arm pit. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t penetrate through.

“Why are you apologizing for being shot?” you murmur. Hoseok and Jungkook had speeded down the road and your men were in the middle of cleaning the mess. 

“I wanted for us to go on a date.” Yoongi snickers. “And be normal for once in our lives.”

“It isn’t your fault that we’ve made enemies.” you pat his shoulder gently, your lips forming a small grin. “It comes with the job.”

Yoongi’s tongue coats his lips, feline-like eyes watching you still. “You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” he says, tone deep. “Especially when you’re angry.”

You roll your eyes. “Pull yourself together, Yoongi.” you say. “You’re the only man that gets horny after being shot.”

“Ignore the fact that a bullet grazed me.” Yoongi says. He begins to follow you back to his car. “And concentrate on the fact that I can appreciate the way you handle a gun and beat up men.”

Yoongi rounds the corner to plop down into the driver seat. He notices your eyes on him. You want to speak up and offer to drive, but you don’t - you know he’s going to deny it.

Within a half an hour, you and Yoongi are back in your home. You have him seated on your couch while you tend to his wound. Hospitals were always out of the question which is why there were paid medics on hand. Yoongi, however, refused to see anyone. Instead, he’s chugging a bottle of whiskey as you dab a rag soaked in alcohol onto his wound to disinfect it.

“You’ve gotten yourself drunk in under an hour.” you deadpan with a shake of your head.

Yoongi, eyes glossy, tilts his head. 

“I wished you would’ve gotten yourself checked out-”

“Y/N,” Yoongi interrupts you. He takes another swig of whiskey, the burning sensation dying down. “will you marry me?”

You dropped the rag onto the couch beside him and sigh. “You’re on that again.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Yoongi grumbles, his eyes squinting at you.

“You’re going to force me into marriage?” You’re amused now. Drunk Yoongi was always funny. His shoulders would relax and he’d let loose more than he was when he was sober.

“Of course not!” Yoongi gasps, then hums. “...I would just keep asking until you said yes.”

Your fingers tap lightly against his shoulder as you smile his way. It causes Yoongi’s heart to jump and he takes another swig of whiskey in an attempt to hide his red cheeks.

“Yoongi…?” you murmur, your fingertips stopping at Yoongi’s neck. He’s warm, and when he feels your fingers against his bare skin, the hair on his body rises. 

“Y-Yes?”

Yoongi wants to shoot himself in his good shoulder for stuttering like he was a school boy.

Your fingers dance up the side of his cheek to touch the scar. It’s embedded into his skin, smooth to the touch. “It seems like everytime you’re with me, you get hurt.” 

Yoongi craves your touch. He settles his cheek against your palm, glossy eyes watching you.

“Who says I’m hurt?” Yoongi responds. 

Your fingers trail along his scar and he recalls the day it happened - the way your father had slashed his eye as a mere warning. He recalls the way he screamed as blood trailed down his face, but even then he didn’t care about the pain that caused the half of his face to throb. He hears your cries and pleads for your father to leave him alone.

“If it means being with you, I take whatever.” Yoongi shrugs.

Your thumb traces Yoongi’s lips now, not realizing just how close you and he are. You missed being this close with him. It reminds you of when you were younger when life was a bit easier.

“What are you scared of exactly?” Yoongi speaks. He softly nuzzles himself closer to you. If he was sober, he would’ve felt a bit of pain coming from his shoulder. “Do you think I cannot protect you? I’ll die-”

“Yoongi, please shut up.” you press your thumb against his lips to silence him. You let out a soft giggle. “Everytime you get drunk, you go into a drunken speech of passion.”

Yoongi makes a sound with his throat. 

You sit a bit straighter before going to sit into his lap. Your dress rises up a bit and instantly, Yoongi’s hands place themselves onto your thighs. He rubs his hands against your soft thighs, a low moan coming from his lips. 

“We can talk about marriage later.” you say. Your nose rubs against his. “For now, let me thank you.”

Yoongi’s cock is dangerously hard against your clothed pussy. His breathing increases when your lips kiss the corner of his lips, teasing him. 

“I know I can be a handful.” you murmur against his skin, your hips rolling. 

Your lips press against his softly, but Yoongi is determined to taste you entirely. He deepens it, his nails digging into your hips to keep you perfectly in place. Your lips are so soft and sweet, your gloss tasting like mangos. Your perfumed aroma captivates him entirely and he doesn’t want you to move away from him.

Yoongi’s lips are covered in your gloss when your lips remove to breathe. His lips press against your chin to your jaw. 

“It’s okay.” Yoongi kisses along your neck now. “It’s good I have two hands, right?”

The kissing grows heavy. Your hands rub along his chest while his hands roam up and down your sides. Your hips continue to jerk needily to feel more of him.

Yoongi is grateful for the alcohol running through his system so that he could appreciate you fully without feeling any pain. His cock is already painfully erect and waiting to be let free to feel you - but he’ll wait for the right time. His tongue pokes out to run along the smooth skin of your neck, dipping lower and lower.

“I’ve wanted to take this dress off of you since you put it on.” Yoongi says, muffled against your skin. His tongue runs along your collarbone and goes down to your breast. 

“You could’ve had me naked hours ago.” you retort, head rolling back when you feel Yoongi’s warm tongue reach your breast. “But you wanted to waste time on a date.”

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Yoongi retorts. His hands roam upwards to touch the straps of your dress and begin to pull them down. “I want to take you on many dates and show you off. Show everyone who you belong to.”

Yoongi was a possessive person and even without stating it aloud, he has claimed you as his countless times. When the straps fall down, his breath hitches at the sight of your bare breast. Your nipples are erect and both of his large hands grasp them entirely.

“I’m yours?” you scoff, yet you continue to roll your hips. Your right hand places itself above Yoongi’s. “I didn’t agree to marry you.” “You don’t have to.” Yoongi responds quickly. “You can keep denying me, but I’ll never allow another man to have you.”

Yoongi’s tongue wraps onto your erect nipple, rolling it against his tongue. He suckles needily, wishing he could do this forever - be in this blissful scenario where it was just you and him and no one else to interrupt it. Or shoot at him.

“I’ve killed for you already.” Yoongi says when he allows your nipple to pop from his mouth. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

You bite your lip. That obviously is a red flag in itself. Yoongi had threatened countless men - a part of Bangtan and Deathrow - and had killed for you, both requested or not. If you were a normal girl living a normal life, it would frighten you how obsessive he could be.

But you established that you weren’t normal and neither is he. You were both born into this world of murder, drugs, sex and trafficking - so it excites you that Yoongi doesn’t go down without a fight.

“You can be happy with me.” Yoongi wraps your other nipple into his mouth. He pinches your free nipple between his index and thumb. Your hand roams his dark tresses, keeping him close against your chest. Your pussy is throbbing, Yoongi’s own hips meeting you halfway as you’re grinding.

“I can give you the wedding you wanted. I can give you the babies you’ve talked about.”

Yoongi’s hands wrap around to unzip your dress. He then proceeds to slide it down your bare back, shuddering at your naked skin. 

“You’d look so pretty pregnant, Y/N. It’ll be hard to get you to stay at home and not pistol whip anyone,” Yoongi jokes, tugging your dress down. “but it can be done.”

You roll your eyes, but Yoongi’s words cause that familiar throb between your legs.

“You think about getting me pregnant a lot?” you raise a brow.

“Of course I do. Don’t ask me dumb questions.”

Yoongi forces you up to remove your dress. It falls onto the ground by your feet. Your panties are basic cotton grey and it’s easily able to see the wetness right between your legs.

“You’re already so wet, Y/N. Your pussy wants to feel me.”

Yoongi’s cocky, his fingers cupping your pussy entirely to feel just how wet you are. He licks his lips, groaning. “You want to be bred, Y/N. You’re just stubborn.”

Yoongi begins to tug at your panties hastily. His mouth salivates. He hasn’t tasted you in years and being a patient man has done nothing but make him insatiable.

“You want to get me pregnant so bad, Yoongi. You’re a bit too obsessed.”

“You know that, right? Is that why you constantly tease me?” Yoongi dips his fingers between your wet folds. He shakes his head at just how sopping wet you were. “You roll your hips, talk to me a certain way.”

“I talk to you like a dog.” you deadpan, a soft moan releasing immediately after.

“And that’s what I love about you.” Yoongi brings his fingers into his mouth and grunts.

Yoongi pushes you onto the couch and falls onto his knees. He had to taste you.

You yelp when your legs are forced apart and Yoongi immediately begins to devour you. He’s completely starved, having missed your touch and taste for years. He doesn’t care about being quiet - you and he were alone. He suckles and smacks his lips against your wet pussy without a care in the world.

You’re squealing loudly as Yoongi’s head bobs back and forth. Your hand grips his hair, eyes watching as he devours you. His right hand forces your thigh down forcefully. You’re unsure how long you wanted Yoongi between your legs - more ways than one - and having him here now is entirely liberating. 

“That feels so good, Yoon.” you whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing. You wished it was stuffed with his cock and he bred you just like he said he wanted to.

Yoongi knows it does. He recalls the times he would eat you out without expecting anything in return - just because he loved the way you tasted and how hard you’d cum from his tongue alone.

Yoongi places two fingers into his mouth for a moment before inching them closer to your hole. His tongue then twirls onto your clit, eyes flickering up to watch your reaction. Your mouth opens in a gasp, back arching a bit. 

Your pussy immediately squeezes around his fingers and he begins to pump. His tongue continues to twirl onto your clit for added pleasure, determined in letting you cum. 

Your hands grip your breast and your eyes are fluttering close. Your hips grind a bit, thighs shaking. 

“Y-Yoon…!”

Yoongi chuckle, lifting from your clit. His lips and chin are coated in your arousal. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, tone sultry. “Does it feel good?”

You nod your head, swallowing. 

“Your fingers feel so good.”

Yoongi continues to pump, feline eyes watching your every move. The way you’re gasping every few moments. Your eyes fluttering open and close, your thighs quivering and shaking.

“You’re going to cum already, aren’t you?” Yoongi chuckles a bit, biting his lip. “You’ve been bottling everything up for so long that it only takes you about 5 minutes to cum all over my fingers.”

Fuck Yoongi and the way he was right about you. You had consumed most of your time running Deathrow that you hadn’t allowed yourself any true release. Your fingers could only do so much, and your vibrator could only stay charged for so long. It wasn’t the same as having a man fuck his fingers into you so vigorously -  as if he’s getting direct pleasure from it.

“That’s right, baby.” Yoongi marvels at the way your juices coat his palm that he adds another finger. You’re wet, pussy making sloppy squelching sounds. “Cum all over my fingers, Y/N. You’re finally being such a good girl.”

Who knew you had a praise kink?

You let go just as Yoongi intends. You weren’t expecting the pressure from deep within you to be released all over him, shooting out the clear liquid all over him and the floor.

Yoongi chuckles, releasing his fingers from your throbbing pussy. “You made such a mess. I knew you would.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your chest rising and falling.

“I want to ride you.”

Yoongi’s eyes shoot up at your sudden change of tone. “Oh?”

You nod. You weren’t a rider - you never enjoyed it. Yoong did, however, enjoyed taking the lead. This time you wanted to have a bit of control. You needed to hear him moaning for you; because of something you were doing for him.

Before Yoongi can say anything else - not like he was going to deny you anyways - your hands grasp onto his shirt. You bring him closer to you so you can wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his own back.

Yoongi is amused by how easily you handle him. Dare he even say attracted by your sudden actions. You hover above him so you can undo his pants and slide them down to reveal his covered cock. It’s twitching angrily, ready to be set free and taken advantage of by you.

“Your cock is still pretty.” you state when you tug his briefs down. His cock springs out, oozing pre-cum from a pink tip you want to wrap your mouth around. But that’ll wait for another time. You don’t allow Yoongi the time to react before you grab it with your soft, yet firm hand. You center yourself.

“Fuck, hold-”

Yoongi grunts when you sit on him completely. His legs shake a bit at feeling you bare wet pussy squeezing him.

“Oh..shiiit.” Yoongi hisses out. He swallows thickly, his eyes fluttering a bit.

You smirk. Yoongi was a simple man indeed.  You’d have to show him what you’d learned over the years - mainly though porn as the thought of being with another man repulsed you. You were a certified man hater unless it was Yoongi; the man that wasn’t officially your man, but still is in theory.

Your feet planted itself onto either side of him and your arms wrapped around his neck. Your hips rise and fall in rhythm, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each bounce.

Yoongi’s large hands immediately fall onto your ass, squeezing them into his palms. He doesn’t care how needy he sounds with his whimpers and moans - he wasn’t embarrassed to show you how good you were.  He’s happy that he has the chance to feel you again - the tightness of your pussy, the flesh of your ass. Your breast bounces in his face and the sight is entirely heavenly that if he were to die right now, he would be content.

Content until Yoongi thinks that with him gone, you’d be vulnerable in the world and he immediately takes it back.

“You’re fucking yourself so good, baby.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to slap your ass and then immediately squeeze the flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. His lips connect to the flesh of your breast, kissing along them as he curses to himself.

“Your cock feels so good, Yoongi.” you moan in his ear. You’re surprised by your own stamina - but having his cock in you after years of denying him for whatever pathetic reason was possibly why. Your pussy clenches and unclenches with each pounce, your clit rubbing against his skin for added friction.

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s teeth grazes your right nipple. “Your tits are so amazing.” he says, finding that your bouncing breast in his face was pure bliss. “I’ve waited so long to feel your pussy around me. You kept teasing me over and over again.”

Another slap onto your ass has you squealing - and clenching. Yoongi does it again to feel your pussy squeeze his cock again; and again and again until you can feel the flesh throbbing.

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your ass to keep you in place, his mouth wrapping onto your nipple. He begins to thrust upwards, pounding into you with such greed. Your skin slapping against his echoes off the high ceilings, your high-pitched squeals added onto that for added flavor.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter upwards, feeling entirely too blissful. His thrusts are powerful - so much so that he needed to feel you deeper. 

Yoongi flips you onto your back, slamming you against the leather couch without much warning. He forces your legs apart so he can see just how wet you were for him, dripping all over his cock.

“Look at that.” Yoongi chuckles, continuing his brutal pace. 

It’s disrespectful, even, the way Yoongi fucks you. But neither of you care. He plunges his cock so deep into you that you can swear you feel him in your stomach, and even then you’re only begging him for more. 

Drunk Yoongi was a different Yoongi, at times  - but he was the same man that craved you entirely. His hands - a part of him that you always admired for how large, veiny and beautiful they were, clasp onto your shoulders. His dark eyes stare right into you, pounding his cock in and out of you.

“You’re so d-deep.”  you gasp, your toes curling when he hits that same sweet spot that only he could ever reach.

“I gotta be deep if I’m going to get you pregnant.”

Why was that so tempting?

Damn Yoongi and his dirty talk - along with his fucked out expression and deep, husky voice. How could you not want to be bred by him when he looked this good? The scar just added onto his attractiveness.

“I-I’d like that.”

Yoongi groans. “Yeah?” his eyebrows knit. “You want my baby but won’t marry me?”

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your shoulders tighter. Your back arches a bit at the added touch.

“Want my fingers. My tongue. My cock.” One hand lifts from your shoulders to your face, his thumb tracing your lips. “My babies…but won’t give me the satisfaction of marriage.”

You whimper at the familiar bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop-”

Yoongi pushes himself away from you. He’s standing, pulling your body with him so that your lower half is fully in his embrace. He drills into you at the same alarming pace and you’re only forced to watch helplessly moaning.

“Yoon-g-gi!”

Yoongi wasn’t going to spare you - not when you felt so good. Not when you were making such sweet noises.

“Marry me, Y/N.” Yoongi demands, a thumb placing onto your throbbing clit and twirling vigorously. “Whatever you want, you got it. Do I need to kill ten more men for you?”

Your hands squeeze onto nothing. You don’t recall Yoongi being this much of a aggressive fucker but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love every moment of it.

“Yoon-”

“Yes or no, baby? Don’t you want those babies we talked about?”

You did - damn Yoongi for making you want babies you hadn’t thought about in years.

“They’ll be so cute. I want a little girl just like you to spoil.” Yoongi’s thumb continues to tier; harshly onto your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a loud groan coming from your throat.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp out, wanting to squirm away from his possessive embrace.

“Are you going to marry me or not?” Yoongi grumbles, replacing his thumb with four fingers. You were milking his cock so well, arousal dripping from your pussy to your thighs and around his cock. He wished he had a camera to capture such a beautiful moment.

“Yes!” 

You were cumming, but Yoongi didn’t care about that right now. You had finally agreed to marry him - and maybe it was the orgasm talking, but he took it serious enough to continue twirling your clit until you’re leaking all over the place. And even then, he continues fucking into your pussy greedily until he’s cumming in you, shooting you with warm ropes of cum.

You’re exhausted at the end of it all - an hour and a half and three orgasms later. Your pussy is leaking cum from Yoongi, who’s insatiable but satiated at the moment. The fucking went from the livingroom, to your bedroom. Your eyelids are heavy and all you wanted to do was sleep.

“Yoongi?”

It was ten minutes later when you spoke to the man. He’s wide away, seemingly coming down from his drunken state.

“Hm?” Yoongi says, cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“We should probably talk.”

Your eyes are still closed and your voice is full of sleep.

“Maybe after you’ve rested-”

“Give me the ring.”

Yoongi is silent as he inhales the smoke, the familiar burning sensation hits his throat.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” you say, eyes still closed.

Yoongi does as you say. He had the ring tucked in his jacket pocket just downstairs and when he retrieved it, you held out your hand for him to put it on. Your eyes finally open to inspect the ring and how it looks on your finger.

Yoongi doesn’t speak, and neither do you. It was like that at times with the two of you. Instead of saying anything, you glance at him hovering above you and tuck your hand underneath your face and close your eyes.

What’s understood doesn’t need to be said, but Yoongi can feel the way his heart jolts at the silent agreement.

your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package. 

"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest. 

your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering. 

"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?” 

“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples. 

“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.” 

“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.” 

“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.” 

"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.

this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?

“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.” 

she paused. “oh.” 

you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room. 

“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.” 

“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?” 

“i did not say that.” 

“you did.” 

“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.” 

“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.” 

“i’m hanging up.” 

“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.  

the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.  

the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.  

except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent. 

you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.  

as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.  

three soft knocks. 

your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him. 

you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine. 

but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.  

you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he— 

you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall. 

a long pause. 

“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite. 

you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now. 

"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.

you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake. 

he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.

“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.” 

he was so calm. too calm. 

“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.

“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you. 

you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.  

“oh no-”  

thud.

everything.  

everything spilled out.  

time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell. 

boxes. bottles. wrappers.  

and then the pièce de résistance.  

a sex doll. 

a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.

you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.  

“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”  

“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.  

“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane. 

you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.  

a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.  

"minnie." you said her name like a curse.  

your phone buzzed. it was a text from her. 

minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?  

“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room. 

you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?

♡ ♡ ♡

for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable. 

the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment. 

you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?

you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night. 

“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone. 

after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly. 

“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch. 

you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low. 

when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now. 

you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon. 

just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze. 

you smelled him first.

that cologne. you’d know it anywhere. 

your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive. 

“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth. 

“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you. 

“y/n?” 

shit. 

you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.” 

he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?” 

you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?” 

“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—” 

he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair. 

“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies. 

he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.” 

“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.” 

“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?” 

your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?

“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears. 

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.” 

“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.” 

“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster. 

but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing. 

darkness. 

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall. 

“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?” 

“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.” 

he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to. 

“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.” 

“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food. 

there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.

“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…” 

no. absolutely not. this was not happening. 

“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.” 

“but i think we should—” 

“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.” 

he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?” 

“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.” 

“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused. 

“same difference,” you muttered. 

another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness. 

“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.” 

“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.” 

he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.” 

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.” 

he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.” 

“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning. 

“you say that like it’s news.” 

silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear. 

“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?” 

your whole face went hot.

“jaemin,” you warned. 

“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.” 

“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him. 

he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.

"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly. 

“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern. 

“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours. 

“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it. 

he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.” 

“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.” 

“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?” 

your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life?  the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck. 

"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."

he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.” 

he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.

“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence. 

“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile. 

“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.

he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating. 

“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.” 

“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.” 

“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.” 

“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you. 

“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth. 

he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.

you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum. 

by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.

♡ ♡ ♡

“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen. 

“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.” 

“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand. 

“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.” 

“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?” 

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”  

“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”  

“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.  

“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”  

“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  

“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.  

you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”  

“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”  

“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”  

“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.  

your face went hot. so, so hot.

“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.  

“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”  

“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”  

minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”  

“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”  

“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”  

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”  

“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”  

you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”  

“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”  

“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”  

“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention.  “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”

“you’re fully overreacting right now.”

one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.

“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”

“your point is..?”

“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”

“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.

“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”

“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.

“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.

“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”

“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”  

“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”

“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”

“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.

“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.

“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”

“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”

“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.

“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.  

you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.  

delusional.

she was delusional.

but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.  

you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.  

nope.

you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.  

♡ ♡ ♡

over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.  

jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.

 this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.  

“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.   

“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating. 

but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.

and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?

he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."

the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.  

“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”  

you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”  

“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”  

“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.  

“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."  

you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.

you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"  

“what do you mean?”  

“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”  

“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”  

you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?  

“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.  

“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.

“no, i’m not.”  

“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”  

you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”  

“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”  

“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”  

“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”  

“that is not a thing.”  

“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”  

“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”  

“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp. 

checkmate.

you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering.. 

"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.  

the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.  

“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.  

“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.  

your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.  

♡ ♡ ♡

things only got worse after that.  

jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.

he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.  

it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself,  to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.

the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.

“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.  

you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”  

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”  

your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.  

“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”  

what does that even mean?!

your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.  

jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”  

“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.

“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”  

you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”  

“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.  

“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.  

“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.  

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”  

“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.

you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.  

“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.  

“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.  

“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.  

you nearly slammed the door in his face.  

“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.  

“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.  

you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.

“then i guess it’s just you.”

you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.  

he’s the worst.

the absolute worst.

♡ ♡ ♡

then came the visiting.  

you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.  

you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…  

when you opened the door, he was right there. 

jaemin.

he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.

“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.  

“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”  

“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”  

“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”  

you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”  

“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”  

“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”  

“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”  

“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”  

“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”  

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.  

his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.  

“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”  

“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”  

oh, this man.

“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”  

“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.  

it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.  

your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.

“so annoying,” you muttered.  

“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.  

“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”  

you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.  

♡ ♡ ♡

thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.  

“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.  

“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.  

“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”  

“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.  

he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.  

“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.  

you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.  

he wasn’t grinning anymore. not exactly.  

it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.  

your heart stuttered before you could stop it.  

“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.  

his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.  

“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,”  he murmured.  

you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.  

so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.  

he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.  

♡ ♡ ♡

the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.

but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.

it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.

“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.

“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”

“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced. 

“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”

“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”

“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”

“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.

“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”

“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”

“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.

“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest. 

“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.

“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.

she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.

♡ ♡ ♡

you still ended up going out.

but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?

it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.

“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.

“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.

“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.

“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.

jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.

“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.

“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.

“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.

“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.

“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.

“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.

“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.

“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.

“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

♡ ♡ ♡

“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”

“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.

“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”

“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.

“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”

“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”

“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”

“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.

“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.

“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.

“send him a picture,” jake suggested.

you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.

“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.

“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.

“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.

jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’ 

the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.

“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.

you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.

jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’

your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge. 

“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.

♡ ♡ ♡

after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.

“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.

“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.

“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.

“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.

“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.

“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.

“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.

inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.

jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.

“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.

“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”

“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.

jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.

“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.

he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.

♡ ♡ ♡

in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater. 

“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.

“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.

“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.

he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”

“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you. 

you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol. 

“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.” 

“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach. 

“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.” 

“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?” 

you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?” 

“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look. 

you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.

“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right. 

he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?” 

you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. 

“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier. 

“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs. 

you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one. 

he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.” 

“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared. 

“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.” 

you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.

your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.  

“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing. 

calm down, y/n.

you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered. 

jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.  

he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble. 

“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”  

he disappeared into his room before you could respond

you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner. 

of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym. 

you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense. 

“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal. 

you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip— 

“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava. 

“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down. 

“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.  

“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!” 

the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.  

you froze. 

oh.

oh my god.

if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.  

“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs… 

his abs.

your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice. 

“oh my god.”  

jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?” 

“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.

he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened. 

“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”  

“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”  

he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.  

the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.  

he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."

every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.  

he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.  

“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.  

“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision. 

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?” 

am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.  

“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end. 

“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.

you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.

“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”

“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”

he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”

“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”

there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.

“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.

“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.

as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.

“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.

walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”

the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.

“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.

except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.

you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.

“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.

when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.

“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.

“too big,” you said. 

“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”

if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.

you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.  

“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.

“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”

his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.  

you did not win that fight.

instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.  

he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.  

his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.  

“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”

good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.

his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.  

“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.  

“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.

lord, have mercy.

“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.  

“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.  

“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.  

he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.  

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.  

he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.

his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous. 

because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.

he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.  

his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder. 

the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.  

his hand slid up and up until…

he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.  

“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.  

and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.  

you didn’t take it.  

his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.  

he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.  

instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown. 

and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.  

“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.  

his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  

you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”

he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.  

instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.  

he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.  

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.  

the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?  

he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips 

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.  

you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.  

“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.  

“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.  

it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.  

your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.  

his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder. 

“look at you,”  he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..  

his lips were back on you in an instant,  rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.  

he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.  

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.  

you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.  

“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.  

“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”

that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.  

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”

your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.  

“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.

then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.  

everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.  

and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.

the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.

when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.  

his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.  

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.  

he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.  

“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.

you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.  

“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.  

“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.  

he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.  

but you don’t. you won’t.

he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.  

then he leans in.  

his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.  

he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.  

and you are falling apart.  

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.  

his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.  

“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.

he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,

“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin. 

“could stay here all night.”

the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.  

he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.  

your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.

“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.

“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.  

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.  

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.  

“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.  

and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back. 

in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.  

“not done with you yet,”  he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.  

“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.

he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom. 

"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.

"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.  

he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long. 

jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.  

you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened. 

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."  

his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?" 

then his boxers hit the floor.  

oh.  

your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.

“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”  

"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"  

“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.  

“you know what.”  

“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”  

you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.  

“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.  

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”  

he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.  

“fuck me. please.”  

he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.  

your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.  

“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.  

your heart swelled at the care in his voice.  

you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.  

he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”  

“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him. 

his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back 

"good girl," he murmured.  

he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.  

his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.

the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore. 

"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.” 

“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended. 

he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper. 

the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.  

“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.  

“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him. 

“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him. 

“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.  

"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.

the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle. 

"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me." 

“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper. 

“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?" 

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him. 

his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter. 

you were close… so, so close.

 but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.

the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust. 

“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?” 

you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.  

“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels." 

“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”  

“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me." 

your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body. 

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.” 

he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core. 

you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.  

“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.  

you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back. 

“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”  

“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands. 

“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.  

“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.” 

his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.” 

the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly. 

“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away. 

“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.  

you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely. 

“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.  

you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.  

“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.  

“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest. 

“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow. 

his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once. 

“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”  

you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. 

“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.  

“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—” 

“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?” 

he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising. 

“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.” 

you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.

“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.  

“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”  

you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”  

“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”  

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”  

his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”  

“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”  

“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”

Today was one of those days when all Jaemin wants is to go in a forest and scream for about twenty minutes, hoping that it will solve some of his problems, because he hasn’t had a moment to himself for the whole day. Usually his kids are angels, especially the one year old baby boy who doesn’t know how to talk yet, beside the few he can mumble here and there, and he can barely walk without being grabbed by the hand or both arms for balance. He’s just a wobble meat roll that Jaemin loves incredibly much. Not to talk about his daughter, who’s his entire world, but he’ll never say it out loud in fear of being misunderstood as having a favourite child. But it’s really not the case. 

He didn’t have a single minute to do chores around the house. After dropping your daughter off he came back home with a fussy baby on his hands. Your son usually plays by himself or with his sister, but today he was a real nightmare — and Jaemin doesn’t like to label his kids this way. Every time he tried to wash the dishes or do the laundry, your son would start crying, screaming to be picked up, and at first it didn’t phase Jaemin that much. Crying babies are a normal occurrence and he once read in one of the parenting guides that leaving your baby to cry it out is a good thing for their lungs, but today it made him want to climb walls. 

And then, when he thought the day couldn’t become worse, the preschool called to let him know your daughter was pushed by a fellow preschooler and fell down, hurting her arm. So he had to go and pick her up because she was in such huge distress that she couldn’t stop crying and asking for him, and of course Jaemin would never be able to say no to one of his babies. 

And he had to promise your daughter that they’ll stop at the local supermarket to buy some candy, and that’s basically how he ended up holding his usual shopping list in one hand, and pushing the shopping cart with the other. At least he can finally run som errands. 

“Angel please, we’ll get to the candy aisle soon, stay here with daddy,” he pleads, trying to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t run away. She’s so full of energy, it seems like her arm doesn’t hurt that much anymore, especially after her daddy promised her some candy she really wanted all week. 

And she listens for about three minutes in total, becoming suddenly very fidgety and impatient, a clear sign that she needs to take her nap soon, so Jaemin knows that he has to quicken the shopping session. He also has to make this a quick trip because of all the chores he needs to do, or otherwise he’ll have to do multiple things at once, and he doesn’t like that.

“Can we look for candy?” She asks, climbing on the front of the cart, much to Jaemin’s dismay.

“Be careful, Angel,”he warns. The last thing he needs is a hurt toddler. This time hurt for real, though.

“Candy, daddy!” She whines, doing her little game of pushing and pulling of the cart, making Jaemin’s heart race every time her small face approaches the cart at full speed. Jaemin thinks he’ll lose nine years off his lifespan after today is over. And it’s not even one o’clock in the afternoon, but at least your son’s not fussy anymore.

Jaemin reaches for the shelf on the left for the canned peas, and with the corner of his eye he can see some unexpected movement around the cart. He looks in the direction where your daughter supposedly is, only to see her running away towards the aisle where she knows she’ll find the candy.

“Angel! Don’t run!” Jaemin raises his voice, dropping the cans carefully in the cart before pushing it rapidly towards the candy and sweets aisles.

He doesn’t know why your daughter is being so difficult today, because she’s usually an angel. Hence the nickname. And honestly he can’t wait to put them to bed for their naps as soon as they arrive home and get to eat something for lunch.

And when he gets to the candy aisle, he stops in his tracks, seeing his little girl being talked to by a stranger. Suddenly his sharp dad — and former criminal — senses ring a bell in his brain, seeing a predator sniffling around one of his cubs. One of the worst predators out there. A man. 

Why the fuck would a grown ass man talk to a three year old? Jaemin has to remember not to speak this way around his children. 

So he knows he has to intervene as soon as possible, and he parks the cart and skips towards the point where that man is crouched down, touching his daughter’s arm like it’s okay to do so.

“Angel! What did daddy say? Don’t run away from daddy!” Jaemin scolds her, and the look on her face is of pure guilt. 

“Sorry daddy!” She replies, feeling all ashamed for not listening to her daddy, but showing him two packs of candy she picked up, probably before the stranger thought it was a good idea to talk to her, a literal child.  

“That’s nice, angel!” He praises her in his usual baby voice, and her usual rosy cheeks make a comeback as soon as she hears him. “Go put them carefully in our cart, so daddy can have a talk with the gentleman here,” he keeps his baby voice on for the explaining, pointing his finger to the cart where your son is waiting patiently while sitting in the baby seat of the shopping cart, sucking on his binky and playing with a bag of fresh spinach. “And watch bubble for daddy!” He instructs when she starts running towards her baby brother.

Jaemin turns his head towards the man, his demeanour changed completely. His eyes are dark, and he tilts his head just slightly in a threatening manner but it’s enough for the stranger to gulp.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, talking and touching my daughter?” Jaemin’s tone is low, dark and menacing, and he suddenly feels his eyes all droopy. 

He knows what kind of expression he has on, and he doesn’t like this side of himself anymore, but it’s his daughter we’re talking about, and he wouldn’t mind beating this stranger up. Or blowing his car up. Or making a few phone calls.

“I’m- I’m sorry” the stranger stutters, trying to do a gesture with his hands but Jaemin’s menacing tone interrupts him from giving an answer.

“The fuck you’re sorry for? Going around talking and touching an unsupervised child?” The stranger man’s eyes are suddenly as wide as they could get, gulping and looking at Jaemin like a deer in highlights. “Fucking answer me,” Jaemin spits, his tone even lower than before. 

“I was just asking for the cereal aisle,” the strangers mutters — and Jaemin knows he’s lying and that’s the only excuse he could come up with, — so chuckles in a threatening, not amused way.

“So you think asking a three year old was a good idea?” He’s serious once again, tilting his head a bit more. “Cereal’s on aisle nine near biscuits and vegan products. Now get the fuck away before I kick your ass over there myself,” he rasps, and the stranger trots away, not even once looking back at Jaemin. Not that Jaemin would even allow it.

He turns around to the sound of your son laughing at something his sister did in order to entertain him, making strange noises with her mouth because she once told you and Jaemin that she loves when her little brothers laughs. Jaemin knows she’s a dedicated big sister. And a girl on a mission.

He looks at the two of them and recognises the small signs that indicate how they’re starting to feel tired. Small signs that only him and you can recognise — but mostly him because he’s always around. 

“Think we have all we need,” he says, patting your daughter’s head, pushing the cart with his other hand. “Let’s go home!” 

And honestly, he can’t wait to get them in the safety of your home, and put them to sleep for a quick nap. And maybe he needs to take one as well, because chores can wait.

And maybe he’ll just do.

→ masterlist

The end of the world had brought about a side of you that you didn’t know existed. A will to live that you thought you had lost a long time ago. Actions you would have considered disgusting and vile now became part of your survival’s guide. Thanks to the books you found in the untouched library, you could stack up on some hunting manuals and more books to keep you entertained. You dreaded the coming of winter, but you did everything you could to stock up on food and supplies, staying at a farmhouse further in the country. To your surprise, no one had come that far and from the amount of walkers, anyone who did seemed to not have made it too far.

Animals were almost extinct. Everyday, it seemed harder to find food to eat. The farm had been beneficial for growing crops and having clean water. You dreaded the day walkers came across it and it was you against them, but you tried not to think about it too much.

To venture south was a suicide mission by yourself. As much as you wanted to check if your family was alive, you knew it was better to keep the idea of them alive than to have the knowledge that they were dead. Outside, the farmland was almost pure woods plagued with the undead. Occasionally, you’d scour them to see if any source of food was left. There wasn’t. Birds hardly flew past the window anymore and you were never fast enough to catch them, your hunting skills not being up to par with flying prey.

It had been a few weeks since you’d checked the woods for food, so you figured you’d give it a go given the herd of walkers seemed to be migrating. You crept around the trees, watching every step to make sure you didn’t do so much as step on a twig. The crunching of the leaves was loud enough. Learning to use a gun would have drawn the walkers to you, so you spent your months mastering the art of the blade. You weren’t an expert quite yet, but you were much better than you were a few months ago.

You hid behind a tree and used a tree spile to collect water rather than carrying the weight of a bottle with you on your runs. Your body stayed steady, using minimal movement to angle your head below the spout as you drank the water.

Leaves shuffled behind you, startling you enough to quickly collect your spile and bring out the military grade knife you found at the tactical store not too far from your old neighborhood. You had emptied it out as much as you could before it was overrun by walkers and other survivors. Knowing the evils of mankind from apocalypse movies, you made sure they didn’t see you leave, and if they did, they couldn’t catch you once you entered your vehicle.

You caught a flash of movement and tracked it as best as you could without being noticed. Staying quiet and keeping low, you tread softly towards the movement to identify what or who it was. A squirrel. Before it could move anymore, you threw your knife at it, striking it in the head. It had been almost a week since you had eaten. Your stomach felt like it was eating away at itself.

A squirrel was a delicacy nowadays. Any meat was. You dug in, cutting just past the skin layer to peel it back, revealing the flesh hidden beneath it. Cutting past the ribs was the easiest part and once it was done, you practically ate at the squirrel like it was meat on bone. The smells no longer bothered you and the blood on your face was an afterthought. You’ll clean up once you get back to the farm.

“I see another one!” a deep, accented voice yelled. You turned your head to try to identify the direction of the voice, but your ears rang from the bullet that grazed past your head. “Fuck!” you shouted loud enough for only you to hear. You stayed low, dropping the squirrel and running deeper into the woods.

  A few more shots fired in your direction, one grazing your non-dominant arm. You ran as fast as you could away from your home. One man turned to two and two turned to three, and three turned to four as you heard more running towards you. Another shot fired and you fell to the ground, clutching the side of your head. Your hand filled with blood as you applied pressure to the wound, but your vision became blurry as you pulled yourself to the nearest tree. The voices came closer, and you drew your knife, again, but your body became too weak for you to hold it up. Everything moved slower than your eyes moved.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you heard a deep, very British, accent say before your vision was no longer light and only darkness.

***

“She’s still alive,” one man said as he placed two fingers on your neck to feel for your heartbeat. You opened your eyes to see four men surrounding you and immediately tried to launch yourself at the one with the mohawk, but your wrist was viciously pulled back by the handcuffs that kept one of your wrists attached to a familiar pipe.

“Calm down. We aren’t gonna hurt you,” the man with a boonie-style hat said. You scanned the men who you knew could pin you down at any moment. One had on a skull mask, ahead of season for the fall time, and the upcoming Halloween holiday, the only holiday you once enjoyed celebrating. He lurked over everyone else. He was the biggest of them, followed by the man with the beard and hat. The other two weren’t much smaller, but their difference was noticeable.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to release your hand from the pipe, but it only drew more blood and made your hand ache even more. Your screams echoed as you used all of your force to try and pry yourself out of the handcuffs. Your feet were planted on the wall, trying your hardest to release yourself.

“That won’t do you any good,” the mohawk man said. “Fuck you!” You continued to try and rip your hand out of the cuffs, but the more you did, the more blood that trickled down your arm and into the crease of your elbow.

The large man with the mask knelt down beside you and his fingers pressed into the sides of your face as he grabbed it. Your lip quivered and a tear dragged down your face as he roughly turned your head to face him. To avoid his piercing stare, you closed your eyes, more tears streaming down your face.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled out a cloth that clearly had not been cleaned in a while. You could feel the pressure of the cloth on your face, wiping away at the blood that you forgot stained your face. His hand was warm, the first physical contact you had in nearly a year. While he was rough when wiping your cheeks, his touch became more gentle once he moved towards your lips. His touch became light and slow, the most gentle he had been.

He momentarily let go of your face to dump some water from his canister onto the cloth. You opened your eyes for a split second and closed them again once his hand was back on your face. He was rougher now, applying more pressure to cure your stained lips. You didn’t say anything and allowed him to clean your face to satisfy whatever sick and twisted needs he had. His grip on your face loosened and he used his thumb to gently wipe at the salty water drops that made their way down your face and into the palm of his hand. “Shh, we aren’t gonna hurt you.”

The other three had left you and the man alone to ransack the kitchen, leaving you more scared than you were before. You turned your face away from him, shaking even more than when the men first arrived. The adrenaline kept you from feeling the pain of the flesh wounds along your arm and head. “This is my house. You can’t have it.”

“So you do speak.” You tried to kick him, but he grabbed your foot, throwing it back at you. “This really your house?” You nodded your head, keeping eye contact with the brute man. “We’re not here for it. Just food. You can keep your house. Let me clean your wounds.” He reached for your arm, but you pulled away, not being able to go far because you were still cuffed.

“What’s your name?” You stayed silent, only keeping eye contact with the man, hoping he would go away. Only a small huff of breath left your lungs while you still caught your breath from struggling with the cuffs and pipe. “Don’t speak then. I don’t care. Give me your arm.” He tried to grab at you again, but you pulled back, making him more upset. “Let me help you and then we will leave.”

“You shot me…twice.”

“Did you see the way you were eating that squirrel? We thought you were one of the dead.”

“I ran away.”

“Some of them aren’t that bright. Thought you were one of them.”

The other three men came back into the room, halting you and the skull man’s conversation. “There’s no food.”

“Yea. It’s her house,” the man with the mask said.

“If we had known that, we wouldn’t have come here. She speak, yet?”

The masked man looked at your pleading eyes and returned his gaze back to the team. “No.”

“A shame,” the man with the funny hair said. “Sorry for shootin’ ya. You eat like one of the dead. When was the last time you had a meal?” You continued to just stare at the man, your silence answering his question. “That long, huh?

You tried not to look any of the men in the eye and only turned your body towards the man with the mask. “Why didn’t you clean her wounds?”

“She wouldn’t let me.”

TO BE CONTINUED

You’ve known Karan since grade school and he hasn’t changed a bit. His skin remained the same deep russet color, his eyes just as dark and kind but determined. His dark hair often grew out past his shoulders, and when it did, it told you that he was working on something that took up all his time.

Sure, Karan grew taller and his voice deepened a bit. He decided that when he wasn’t - in your words - emerged in his science bullshit, he did go to the gym and bulked from the once scrawny boy you remember. However, that didn’t change that he was a geek, a term of endearment. 

You should have expected Karan to be at your doorstep with his hair as long and thick that’s tied in a low ponytail in the back. It meant he was working on something that took all of his time - and it meant he wanted you to be the test dummy, of course. 

“Karan,” you let out a breath. “what’s in the box that it took you and 6 of your geek ass colleagues-”

“Y/N!” Karan gasps, his head turning to said colleagues who are awkwardly standing by your front door. “Lower your voice.”

“Karan.”

“Right.” Karan claps his hands. The box is large and wooden and stands taller than him. It was a struggle to even get it through the door - hence 7 men had to bring it in - but they managed. “This is my gift to you.” Karan says, turning around to go to open the box.

“A gift?” you scoff, though you give Karan hell, you do appreciate his friendly gestures. “Or am I just a test subject?”

“Both.” Karan answers with a snort. The wooden frame opens and you nearly jump out of your skin when you witness what was inside of it. “This is-”

“What the fuck is that!” you screech, your skin crawling with goosebumps.

“If you would shut the fuck up, Y/N, and let me speak.” Karan hisses. “This is an android.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to not let out another scream when Karan takes a step back to admire his work.

The android was so lifelike and it frightened you. It’s tall - taller than Karan or any of the other 6 men he brought here. Your eyes zone in on it’s face - it was so lifelike that it’s uncanny. 

“Why don’t you have a closer look before I turn him on.”

“Karan,” you shake your head instantly. “this is too much.”

Karan lets out a groan. “Y/N, be mindful. Androids so lifelike go out for thousands of dollars. This is the first official model and-”

“And of course you want me to experience a heart attack day and night, huh?!” you hiss, your eyes unable to move away from the life-like robot. You take a deep breath and try to do as Karan says and be mindful. “Karan, I don’t think I can handle something like this.”

“Why not?”

“I…” you shake your head. You aren’t aware when the last time any man - unless it was Karan - entered your home. Knowing you, you’d forget about the robot all together until you wake up in the middle of the night for some water and see it there. You’d probably die on the spot - that or try to attack it which would force the robot to kill you.

“You’re thinking too much into it, Y/N.” Karan speaks, probably reading your thoughts just by looking at the terrified look on your face. “I’ll meet you guys back at the lab, okay? I should be able to get him started.”

“Karan, no.” you nearly pleaded with your friend as the other scientist lead themselves out of your home. 

“You’ll come to enjoy him, Y/N.”

“Him? You mean it?”  Did you sound offensive at the moment? It was an android and could they really have gender roles. 

“Him.” Karan corrects. “It’s a male android.”

“I don’t see how.” you murmur under your breath. 

“He has a dick.” Karan shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe if you had one inside of you-”

“Don’t go there, Karan. When’s the last time you-”

“Hello.”

You shriek once more when you hear the robot speak, a deep voice sounding throughout your small home. 

“Ah, hello. It didn’t take you long to power on.” Karan smiles. “Come, Namjoon, get out of the box, please.”

Your heart is racing and your fight or flight senses are activated. Your first thought is to indeed run - run far as you could to be away from him. “You…named him?” you murmur to Karan, your eyes glued to the android who does as Karan says.

“Namjoon named himself.” Karan explains. 

This wasn’t sitting right with your spirit.

“Namjoon, this is Y/N. The one I was telling you about.”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened. What did Karan mean? It wasn’t as if the robot was a living, breathing person - he was created in a lab!

“It didn’t take me a week to create an android, Y/N. It took years of my time.” Karan glances at you. “I’ve programmed Namjoon just for you. Years of collecting data-”

“Karan.” you raise a hand to stop him from speaking. You shake your head. “What do you mean you…programmed it-”

“He.” Karan grits his teeth. 

“-for me?”

Karan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you the whole truth for there was a possibility you’d be beyond freaked out, but he could tell you a fraction of it. 

“Namjoon know’s your likes and dislikes.” Karan begins. “He knows your allergies and just what to do if you have a reaction.”

“What…the fuck…?” your eyes widened. “Is this not a HIPAA violation?”

“Not when it benefits you, no.” Karan shakes his head. “I programmed Namjoon to be the perfect…” he tilts his head. “...assistant?”

You scoff.

“Like Siri or Alexa but…” Karan points at Namjoon. “...alive!”

You bring yourself to glance back at…Namjoon. He is tall, towering over both you and Karan. He’s waiting patiently, his eyes - a dark shade of brown - already on you. He offers a smile that causes your heart to jump once more. You notice that his cheeks are dimpled and he has a set of pearly white teeth.

“Take a closer look, Y/N. Touch him.” Karan insists, lightly patting your shoulder. “He doesn’t feel robotic.”

It takes you five minutes of hesitation, but you do. You touch the skin of his cheek and your eyes widened by how human he did feel. Warm to the touch, soft skin. You tilt your head. “Explain yourself, Karan.”

Karan swallows and chuckles to himself. He understands what questions you have and it’s easier to lie for your sake than to tell you the truth - being that Namjoon was once full human and doesn’t have any memories of his human life. Now he is more of what people consider a "cyborg". No, that would cause you to panic, and in return would cause Namjoon to, as well, as he is designed to protect and serve you.

“I can go on and on about my science bullshit to explain to you why Namjoon is so human-like, but that’ll only bore you.”

You groan at how right Karan was. You muster up the courage to continue to feel Namjoon and how human he truly was. His hair was soft and a shiny black color that matches perfectly with the cool and tan tone of his skin. 

“Doesn’t he feel like a man?” Karan questions. “We know you need one.”

“Fuck you, Karan.” you snatch your hand from Namjoon, who is eerily still and watching you. 

“No. Buuuut Namjoon can.” Karan cackles at your reaction.  “You’re going to hate me, Y/N, but we’re best friends, right?”

You swallow back your response. 

“I hacked into your devices. Namjoon knows…a lot about you.”

It takes you a moment to understand what Karan was insinuating. 

Your body heats up. “Karan!” you hiss, your hands turning to fists. 

“Y/N, you and I both know you need to get dicked-”

“Karan!” you hiss, the amount of times you had said his name in under an hour is insane.

“I’m leaving. Let me know if anything is out of order. There shouldn’t be seeing as Namjoon’s took years to perfect.” Karan smiles, making his way towards your front door. “Now, excuse me.”

You want to follow after Karan and punch his head in, but you decide not to. You take a few deep breaths. 

“Your heart rate is increasing.” Namjoon speaks, his voice causes you to yelp. “You should try calming yourself down.”

“Easy for you to say.” you murmur, more to yourself. You stand a little straighter, your heart continuing to race - something the android could sense somehow. You would be sure to ask Kanan how later. “I…I don’t know what to say.” you murmur awkwardly.

“That’s fine.” Namjoon chuckles so normally that it brings chills up your spine. “You don’t need to feel shy around me, Y/N.”

You swallow, body heating up once more. Curse the way Karan built this android. It’s noticeable that Namjoon was a special invention. He appeared so lifelike, carved beautifully, you’d admit. You pondered how his voice didn’t sound robotic, or even the way he speaks, blinks, smiles - everything. 

“I…I’m sorry.” you take a deep breath. “This may be a stupid question.”

“No question is stupid, Y/N.” Namjoon lightly shakes his head. “Ask away.”

“Do you…need to be charged?” 

Namjoon cracks a smile and shakes his head once more. “No. I do not.” he answers. “I do have a rest mode, however. I’ll allow myself to rest at times to recharge my system.”

You nod your head slowly and then bite your lip.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to feel like my slave.” you attempt to joke.

“I was made to serve you, Y/N. Ask anything of me and I’ll do my best to achieve it.”

Namjoon was so human-like. 

Karan explained in scientific terms as to why and that only caused more confusion - but in simpler terms, he explained that Namjoon was similar to a digital assistant like an Alexa or Siri, of course. He “adapted” to your likes and dislikes and modern society. He studied how men (the ones you were attracted to, how Karan knew this was beyond you) around his age - late 20’s - would talk and walk. 

No one knew that Namjoon was an android - no one but you and Karan and of course, Namjoon himself. 

Living with Namjoon took a toll on you at first. You had woken up one day and forgotten that the android was there and had walked out in the middle of the night to find him. He was resting as he said he was, only this time leaning against the wall of your kitchen. You screamed at the top of your lungs and activated Namjoon who was programmed to think that an intruder was in the house. He had sensed your heart rate skyrocket and was prepared to attack - only he was said intruder.

After that night, you gave Namjoon his own room. You had used your spare bedroom as a storage and closet all at once, but if Namjoon was going to be here then you’d have to show some type of respect to him.

As time went on, you grew to enjoy Namjoon’s company. He often sat around and waited for you to need him. Having no partner meant that you were accustomed to being alone and thus doing things by yourself. When you couldn’t reach something, you weren’t opposed to jumping onto something to grab it or grabbing a chair. Namjoon came in handy in that department. 

Namjoon would also build your furniture - your entire bedroom set being one that you were grateful for. 

Namjoon took the liberty in ordering any necessities that were lowstock, along with groceries - Karan had managed to implement a chip that could save your data to Namjoon so he could do it internally. You’re still unsure how you feel about it, but for now you’re sure it works.

One thing you learned about Namjoon, being an android, was his desire to gain more knowledge. He would often read books. You had allowed him to order as much as he wanted since he was a help to you the past few months - and he appeared content. He would tell you what he read about, albeit fiction or nonfiction, you’d listen.

“There’s no way you can get any smarter, Namjoon.” you said to him one day as you catch him reading yet another book - this time a math one that would hurt your brain if you’d attempt to look through it.

“Knowledge is power, Y/N.” was the android’s response.

As for Namjoon, he was content with living with you. He got to make sure you were safe and always assured that you were up to date with any doctor appointments. He would keep track of any reminders you’d tell him - “call so and so later,” “don’t forget to take the meat out the freezer at this time”, “call Karan to annoy him” and so on.

Namjoon doesn’t tell you that he knows more about you - deep facts that you would probably never tell anyone. He doesn’t want to embarrass you and cause your heart rate to grow high, so he doesn’t tell you. Like how he doesn’t tell you that he can hear everything - especially the buzzing noises at night when you play with yourself mixed with soft, but oftentimes disappointed moans. He recalls the time when your heartbeat became quick as you were going to cum just for the vibrator to die - how disappointed you must’ve felt.

Namjoon knocks on your door five minutes after your shower once he’s sure that you are dressed - his eyes could see past the closed door and into your bedroom when he knows you’re rubbing lotion onto your already soft skin. You’re dressed for bed, as well, in shorts that barely cover yourself and a tank top with one of the straps missing as you’ve grown to love the old top.

“Joon,” you furrow your brows as you open the door. “is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Namjoon nods. 

“You don’t usually seek me out this late at night. You’re usually resting.” 

“You’ve been working hard the last few days.” Namjoon responds. “There’s knots in your neck.”

You sigh with a short nod of your head. “You’re right. I’ve been working overtime lately.” you explain. “I’m glad the clothes I got fit you. I wasn’t sure what size to get.” your eyes scan the pajamas he wore - a simple plaid pajama pants with a dark color shirt. Namjoon insisted that you buy him simple pajama’s wear so he could be as human as possible.

“Thank you.” Namjoon offers a dimple smile that causes your heart to beat faster - he senses it. “Would you like a massage?”

“Uh…what?” your body heats at the sudden question. “You never asked me that before.”

“Indeed I haven’t.” Namjoon tilts his head. “But I sense that the knot in your neck is causing you discomfort. I don’t want you to sleep like that, you might wake up even worse.”

You take a deep breath with a shrug. You’re sure he was right - he was the artificial intelligent android that knew everything, not you. 

“I don’t want to treat you like a slave, Joon.” you joke, but even you were curious about how a massage would be. Namjoon’s hands were large and you pondered how they would feel on you.

Namjoon smiles once more. “I was made to serve you, Y/N.” he murmurs, so low that it catches you off guard. “If you do not want me to then I will not force it. But please never feel as though you are a burden to me.”

A massage wouldn’t be bad, right? Sure, Namjoon was hot - you curse Karan for making something like him - but he was an android. Surely he didn’t feel the things a human could and wouldn’t jump at any sexual opportunities.

“Why not?” you sigh, opening your door wider for him to enter your room. “I do have a few knots and my back has been killing me lately.”

“I have watched massage videos while you showered.” Namjoon speaks. “To perfect my craft.”

“Of course you have.” you laugh to yourself. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

You’ve gotten used to Namjoon being able to control most of the devices in your home - like the lights. He dims them as he enters your room and for your speakers, he adds a soft melodic tune. “For you to be comfortable.”

You lay as Namjoon advises you to, on your stomach with a few of your pillows beneath you to not be in discomfort.

You had to admit that Namjoon was good with his hands, and even that wasn’t much of a compliment. He works his thumbs right into your neck, massaging out any knots he sees. 

Your eyes were growing heavy and Namjoon senses how relaxed you are, mind clear. He works his hands onto your back, rubbing along your spine and sides. Your breathing is low and steady, an ultimate sign of how relaxed you were.

Namjoon’s hands go lower and lower, massaging your tense muscles with the perfect amount of pressure that you couldn’t help but moan low to yourself, unbeknownst that Namjoon could hear every sound.

“Feels nice?” Namjoon questions softly, both hands gently massaging past either side of your hips. He offers a firm squeeze before working his way down to your thighs.

“Mhmm.” you hum, cheek pressed firmly against your soft pillows. “It feels nice.”

“You are relaxed. I can sense your heartbeat.” Namjoon states as he often does, giving you updates about your own body that he appears to understand more about than you do. 

“Thank you.” you mumble. “I’ve been stressed lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Namjoon slightly nods his head with a bit of a tilt.  “I have.” he responds, his hands massaging down your calves and slowly back up your outer thighs. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

You snort. Though your eyes were heavy and you could truly fall asleep like this, you decided against it. Namjoon was a good conversationalist. “Help me with work?” you question, though rhetorically. “I’ll just take some personal time to relieve some stress.”

“I could assist you in relieving stress. Though, if you’d like me to help in your field of work, I would be happy to do that, as well.”

“What do you mean?” you question, genuinely confused. 

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and in his silence you begin to ponder what he was speaking of. 

Namjoon’s hands are large and warm - he hasn’t admitted that he could radiate his own heat, another sensor that Karan has put in him in case, in any instant, you needed it. They slide past your ass in massage movements and it catches you off guard that your eyes slowly open, but you remain silent. 

Namjoon’s hands don't linger as he can sense your quicken heartbeat and he begins to massage up your lower back.

“I believe you’re stressed out, yes, but more than you lead on.” Namjoon finally speaks. 

“Namjoon-”

“I could help you, if you’d like. I know whatever toy-”

“Namjoon!” you’re embarrassed now and immediately, you get up from your laying position to turn to look at the android. His eyes appear curious instead of soulless like they should be for an android. “I…I don’t know what…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “I know you’re left disappointed with your vibrator.” he says bluntly. “I can sense it everytime.”

Your blood runs cold and now you’re left truly embarrassed. Namjoon could sense when you were…you wanted to die. 

Curse Karan for creating such an advanced android.

“I want to help you…cum.” Namjoon’s system assists in finding the right words that would be considered “modern” and not too scientific to turn you off. “I would like to help you cum.”

“I-I don’t think that’s n-necessary!”

“Why not?” Namjoon questions. “I won’t die like your vibrator would.

Your legs clench together and you gasp in disbelief. He knew about that, too?

“You’re embarrassed. There’s no need to be. I’m here to serve you, Y/N. Like Karan said, I know what you like.”

Fuck Karan - again and again. He has hacked into your devices and showed poor Namjoon what you watched on whatever porn site. It couldn’t be considered what you wanted to happen to you, because at times you did watch some hardcore shit.

You take a deep breath.

“I…” 

“If you don’t like it,” Namjoon sets his palm upon your bare thigh and you visibly stiffen. “then I’ll stop, just tell me.”

This was crazy, you think. Namjoon is an android and you didn’t want to treat him like a sex robot. You imagined only incels would do that - but here you were contemplating it. It doesn’t help that Namjoon felt so human - his skin was as soft as a human. Warm at the touch, as well. He was carved so perfectly that it’s hard to believe that this wasn’t a human man before you.

“O…Okay.” you meekly murmur, innocent eyes staring right back at him.

Namjoon works his way towards you slowly. He tests to see what causes your heart to jolt. His hands gently push you back against the pillows as he hovers above you. 

“Remember, Y/N, I was made for you.” he reminds you.

Namjoon allows his hands to place themselves along your breast, not hesitating. You are stiff, silently watching as he gently rubs them. You weren’t wearing a bra - you never wear one to bed - and it’s easy for him to do what he does next.

Namjoon sneaks his way inside your tank top to grasp your breast. Your nipples are hardened almost instantly. His thumbs rub along the sensitive bud, dark eyes flickering to you.

“Feels good?” Namjoon whispers, but he already knows it to be true. 

You slowly nod your head.

Namjoon continues to rub along your breast, often pinching and twirling them between his thumb and index finger.

You fight back the moans, eyes watching Namjoon between your eyelashes. Maybe it was because Karan was right - you haven’t been with a man for who knows how long. It causes great embarrassment that even Namjoon, an android, knows this, as well. 

“Relax.” 

Namjoon murmurs, coming a bit closer to you. 

“Treat me like you would another man.” Namjoon suggests. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just you  and I here.”

You nod your head slowly, biting your bottom lip. It’s easier said than done - how could you look at yourself in the mirror after this was done and over with? In the moment it’d feel amazing, sure, but once the high is down you’re positive you’ll feel like a complete freak of nature.

You lean forward, taking a deep breath. No one had to know that you were doing this - it’s something you’d take to your grave. Namjoon rarely left the house with you, and even then, his loyalty was with you, right? Maybe in ten years you’ll admit this to Karan, but until then…

“Can I…can I…” you bite your lip harshly, body heating up. “...kiss you? It’s um…it’ll be weird if I-”

“Yes.” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate, sensing your growing embarrassment and discomfort. 

You nod your head, unable to say anything further. You begin to lean forward, sitting with your legs crossed. You place a hand on Namjoon’s shirt, leaning even more towards him.

“You act as if you’ve never kissed a man before.” 

Namjoon is teasing you. There’s a glint in his eyes and a soft smirk on his lips. You want to roll your eyes at how typical Namjoon was for an android. Your hands snatch Namjoon’s loose shirt and force yourself to kiss him. 

Namjoon’s lips are soft, which shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. It’s eerily soft and it always has you pondering just how Namjoon was created; how someone could build Namjoon in just a few years.

“It's not so hard now is it?” Namjoon murmurs against your lips, offering another quick peck. 

“Shut up.” your response is muffled against Namjoon’s lips, an urge to continue your kisses upon them.  “I’m trying my best.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond - he knows you are doing just that. It’s a weird feeling for you, he’s sure, to feel how human he is. Skin as soft as yours, radiating the exact amount of warmth. He doesn’t maneuver as an android nor does he speak as one - it would freak anyone out.

“I think you’re still holding back.”

Namjoon is the first to speak, but he brushes his lips against yours for a moment before continuing. “Come,” he says, ushering you closer to him.

Come for Namjoon meant you sitting directly on top of him, your legs straddling him beneath you. You swallow as Namjoon places his hands securely onto your hips, tapping his fingers against them. 

“Now, let’s continue.” Namjoon pecks your lips once more, allowing you to adjust to the new position and to follow his lead.

It’s just as different as before, but again, you tell yourself that you have to see Namjoon as a man, and not an android. You have to trick your mind in thinking that Namjoon wasn’t someone created in a lab to assist you - maybe you met him…in a bar?

 No, too cliche, you tell yourself. Maybe at a cafe of sorts while he was reading a book. Namjoon enjoyed reading. 

It was easier for you to pretend Namjoon and you met in more normal circumstances for you not to feel like a total sexually frustrated woman. 

You’re unsure how long it’s been - five minutes and forty-six seconds, Namjoon knows - since Namjoon and you have been here. However, your tongue dances with his, your nails digging into his shoulders. His hands are roaming your body entirely, gripping and tugging at your clothing.

You admit it feels good to be touched like this - to be on top of Namjoon kissing without a care. 

“I want to make you feel good.” Namjoon speaks when the two of you - of course you since he didn’t need to - decides to halt your makeout session to breathe. 

Even knowing what you’re doing here would ultimately end with you and Namjoon doing something sexual, him stating such causes your stomach to jump with nerves.

“I…”

“You’re nervous. I can sense it.” Namjoon can hear your heart beating so loudly due to your nerves. He squeezes your hips and offers a low smile and even then his dimples sink deep into his cheeks.  

“No,”  you shake your head. It’s pointless to try and cover up your anxiousness from Namjoon as he could sense it regardless. Still, you’ve already gone this far and you’re sure you could stop now, but you didn’t want to. “...um, how do you want to do…that?”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and instead presses a peck onto your lips. He doesn’t linger there and instead begins to kiss further down, starting with your jaw. He goes towards your neck, fingers tapping up your waist to your lower back and eventually up your spine. It causes you to shiver, goosebumps prickling along your skin. 

Namjoon’s tongue is warm upon the nape of your neck, massaging your smooth skin. His teeth sink into your neck, grinding it only a bit to force a deep moan from your mouth -  exactly what he was looking for. 

“You’re very pretty, Y/N.”

Namjoon words catch you by surprise and slowly, your eyes open in response. Namjoon’s caught up with his kissing, going lower and lower. He can sense your body temperature rising only slightly, your heart beating so loud in your chest that it could be alarming if you didn’t bring yourself to relax.

“You act like you’ve never done this before.” Namjoon’s tone is teasing once more and you could only snicker. 

“You act like you have.” you retort with a raise of your eyebrow.

Namjoon scoffs. His eyes flicker upwards at you, your breast now in his face. You can see the gears in his mind - did Namjoon have a brain? You’d have to ask Karan another time - as he processes your words.

“I know how to pleasure you, Y/N.” Namjoon once more pokes his tongue out, trailing it along your breast teasingly. “I know exactly what you like for me to do.”

You swallow, biting your lip. You weren’t going to back down to the android. You have to hold your own. 

“Are you sure you’d be able to deliver?”

Namjoon doesn’t speak like you expect him to. Instead, his tongue - so warm and still human-like - wraps around your erect nipple. He latches onto it and continues to suckle. The action was so sudden that you yelped aloud. 

Namjoon makes no sign of backing down. It wasn’t as if he had to halt for air - an added bonus. The sensation never stops and it causes your hips to jerk involuntarily, your shorts sticking to you as you go to rub yourself against him.

You had such an abundance of questions that swirls through your head - since Namjoon was an android, he couldn’t possibly get an erection.

Unless, of course, it was already…

You release another moan - this time long and deep at just the thought of him already being erect. The thought that you could just mound him at any given moment causes you to clench around nothing.

Namjoon senses just how aroused you are, your arms now around his neck as he continues to suckle on your nipples. He now has both of them right his mouth, sucking with all his might. 

You’re rubbing yourself against him, wanting out of your shorts immediately. You could feel him - whatever it was beneath his pajama pants. You’re sure that it’s as real as the rest of Namjoon, more questions that you’ll leave unanswered as they were too complicated. 

Namjoon pops your nipples from his mouth, a string of warm saliva connecting the two together. Very slowly does the tip of his tongue lick along your nipple, siren-like eyes looking right up at you. 

Your pussy clenches again at the look of Namjoon, wishing he was deep inside of you with the same look on his face.

Fuck Karan and his creation, truly. 

“You want to ride my face?”

You’re positive you were leaking and it would all come out when you get out of these shorts. 

“I..I don’t…you’d let me do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Namjoon tilts his head. “I was made for you. You can cum all over me if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Namjoon speaks nonchalantly. Dare you say it was cute coming from an android.

“Would you like that?” Namjoon murmurs, further pushing himself back onto your bed. He’s certain that you would like it as you hadn’t stopped grinding against him the entire time. 

You nod your head hastily and Namjoon taps your back. You lift yourself all too quickly to remove your shorts and panties and toss them aside without a care.

 Namjoon reaches his arm out towards you and you take it. “I can hear your heart beating.” Namjoon licks his lips, those siren-like eyes flickering from your face to your exposed bottom half. “Come,”

You’ve never been in this position before. You’ve almost always received oral while on your back - but this was new. You shouldn’t be embarrassed because Namjoon wasn’t a regular man. You didn’t have to be ashamed of how you looked, seeing as - according to him and Karan - he was made for you. 

Namjoon’s fingers grip at your thighs to keep you in place and without much hesitation, his tongue dips between your folds. You jerk instantly at the newfound sensation, but you are unable to move. Namjoon makes sure of it.

Namjoon pleases you as if he’s the one receiving it, his tongue plunging deep between your folds and hammering right against your clit. Your hips are buckling, but he’d never allow you to be too far away from him.

Namjoon’s slurping is loud, but so are your moans. Your eyes are shut tightly because having to look down at Namjoon devour your pussy like a man starved was going to send you over the edge. 

“J…Joon, slow down.” you groan with a shake of your head. Your thighs are shaking, stomach sinking in as you inhale. “...I don’t wanna make a mess-”

Namjoon ignores you all together, squeezing hands jutting your hips against his tongue. His eyes watch your face closely, eyes zoning in on the way you’re struggling to breath while moaning. Your eyes are squeezed shut, refusing to look at him.

Namjoon wanted you to make a mess all over him - this is what he was made for. He was created to serve your every need and craving. He was the perfect being for you; attentive and caring. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you as his master.

“Joon, I don’t think-”

Your eyes snap open when you feel Namjoon enter you - his fingers. They’re as long as they look and they fill you up so nicely. It was a mistake to look at Namjoon beneath you because this sight would forever be embedded in your mind.

“Oh shit,” you groan as Namjoon's fingers pound inside of your pussy. Your arousal coats his chin and now is dripping down his wrist, but he makes no sign of stopping. 

With his free hand, Namjoon glides it up to grip your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” Namjoon hums, fingers curling into your pussy and hitting your spot with each thrust. “Talk, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…!” you shriek, thighs widening to feel more. You needed more of Namjoon - whatever and however much he was willing to give. “Please make me cum, Joon. Please…”

The gears are turning now in Namjoon’s head with the clear demands - no matter how polite - you give him. After all, he was made to serve you and only you. So, Namjoon does as he is told. He quickens his fucking into your pussy that it squelches off of the walls, juices flying out and soaking his chest.

Over the course of the next few months consisted of moments of you and Namjoon entangled together. The following night after you came - entirely too much and the hardest you’ve ever had - you woke to Namjoon massaging you. He had insisted that you needed another full body massage before he left your bedroom to start a bath for you.

It wasn’t awkward as you initially thought it would be and maybe that had something to do with Namjoon not being human. It was easier to get through your own embarrassment as he only appeared to be the lovable assistant he assured you he was created to be for you.

You found yourself going to Namjoon more often than not and of course, he was always willing. You thought that maybe you were taking advantage of the poor android and using his endurance for your own sick pleasure, but Namjoon comforted you. He would always encourage you to come to him for whatever needs you needed fixed.

And of course you had.

Namjoon had made you cum too many times to count; each time more intense than the last. Your legs would be left shaking and tears would be nearly streaming down your face due to pure pleasure. 

It was addicting and no matter how wrong it felt at times, you would always come back and return to Namjoon to make you feel good. He knew exactly how to speak to you and coach you through your orgasm. His voice would deepen in your ear, encouraging you to make a mess all over him - that it was okay to be doing this. 

Whatever Karan did to program Namjoon in understanding your own kinks was amazing and incredibly terrifying all at the same time. 

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks one Friday evening. He had sat by and cleaned while you were showering. His senses caught that you were using your more expensive body wash and lotions - the one you typically used when you were going out. He watched behind your closed door as you dressed in a short, black dress that was entirely too tight for you to ever sit comfortably in. 

“I, uh…” Namjoon senses your awkward laughter and he stops his scrubbing on the circular, glass bowl. The sink water runs as he awaits for you to answer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I…I’m going on a date.” you respond. “A, uh, blind date.”

“A blind date.” Namjoon repeats without a blink in his eye - did Namjoon ever blink? 

“One of my co-workers set it up.” you look away for a moment. “Said she was tired of me being alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Namjoon continues washing the dishes, his eyes now leaving yours to focus on them. “I’m here.”

You smile.”I know you are.” you murmur. “But, she meant…someone human.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and unlike him, you cannot sense anything. You weren’t an amazing creation like he was. He knew when you were going to be ill days before it even happened and he would prevent it. He learned how to cook by reading books carefully and assured that all your meals would be cooked for you right as he knew your stomach would start to churn. 

Namjoon was amazing for the little things, as well. He would order whatever you needed right before it went out. He assured that your bills were paid on time and would often run errands for you when needed be - he just wasn’t a sex toy to get your high off of. 

“I should be back tonight.” you trail off when Namjoon doesn’t say anything. You inhale. “Is something wrong?”

“Why do you ask?” Namjoon turns the water off and turns his eyes to look at you. 

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s nothing.” you mumble. You’re sure Namjoon didn’t feel any type of emotion and that wasn’t his fault. He knew how to display the idea of emotions when you needed him to. He would laugh at your jokes at times and be just as playful back, but maybe that was apart of how he was programed for you. 

“You do not know this man, right?”

You’re at the door when Namjoon finally speaks. “Right.” you respond, placing your heels onto your feet.

“Then would you like for me to accompany you?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” you giggle. “It’ll be hard to explain why I have another man with me.”

“You do not know him. What if he’s not who he says he is?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Joon.” you shake your head with a low grin. “I appreciated it.”

“I do have to worry about you, Y/N. I wasn’t created to allow harm to come your way.”

“I won’t be harmed, Joon.” you raise your hands to calm him down. “It’s just a date at a restaurant.” you scoff. 

Namjoon’s head snaps to the door just as a few knocks sound off. His eyes flashes and he sees the man just behind the door. He scans his face, the system in his mind calculating everything there was to this man - just who he was, where he worked and even details and information no one should have access to.  

“He’s here, Joon.” you tilt your head. “You should be fine here, right? I’ll be gone no longer than 2 hours.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to your face and slowly, he nods. “Be safe.” he responds. “It should be a little windy tonight. You should grab a jacket.”

Your lips stretch into a smile and you nod your head. Your heels click over to Namjoon and you wrap your arms around him, your head in his chest. “It’s good that you always know the weather beforehand, huh?” you laugh before unraveling yourself from him. “I’ll grab a jacket on my way out. I’ll see you tonight?” you ask. “I want us to finish reading that mystery book. We’re so close to finding out who the killer is!”

Namjoon doesn’t move for the first hour, his eyes lingering on the same spot you were just standing. He counts the minutes you’ve been gone, processing the man you were with - a complete stranger to you - and just how comfortable you felt going out with him. 

Namjoon busies himself by continuing to clean. You couldn’t manage to get through all the hard to reach places and he assures that he does, moving furniture and dusting the house top to bottom. You were no good if you were sick.

Namjoon scrubs the walls with scented detergent with a shake of his head at how you lived in such situations for so long - even if he worked months to assure everything was clean for you. He ponders if you noticed all the work he’s done to assure that you were safe from harm's way. 

It wasn’t two hours like you’ve said. It was four. Namjoon is unable to stop counting until he hears your footsteps stumble through the door. Only it wasn’t just your two feet, but another set that alarms him. Immediately he springs into action, his eyes flashing through the wall of the second bedroom you had allowed him to rest in, dropping the book he was reading.

Namjoon’s eyes catch the familiar man standing behind you. You’re laughing along with him and you press a finger to his lips to shush him. 

You’re drunk, Namjoon knows immediately. Not entirely drunk as you’re coherent, but you’re far beyond what you’re usually were; sober. You’re laughing more around the man who’s just as equally drunk as you are. You two nearly stumble onto the ground as you attempt to close the door.

Namjoon follows the way you and the man make your way to your bedroom. You close the door behind yourself quietly almost as if he couldn’t hear anything. He continues to watch you, unable to stop himself. 

You and Namjoon often listen  to podcasts and watch tv shows and he’s positive that this could end badly - this man could be a murderer for all he knows. 

The man isn’t - as far as he knows. He had no criminal record, after all, but that wasn’t going to stop him from ensuring your safety. 

This is the first time you’ve ever brought someone home before. He only saw Karan a handful of times and you opted to talk to other friends over the phone. It’s weird that you did now out of all times - and not only that, but you were going to sleep with this unknown man.

30 minutes is what it took for it all to be over and Namjoon isn’t surprised in the slightest in knowing that you weren’t satisfied. The look of disappointment on your face is the easiest sign of it, but Namjoon knows you. He knows your body. He sensed the way your heart beat increased a bit and your breath hitches, only for it to die down when the man himself cums - never you.

Namjoon shakes his head. Of course you would be left unsatisfied. This man wasn’t someone who gave a damn about you or your pleasure. He was a random man who had no ties to you, so of course he couldn’t care less to make you cum - that's what Namjoon was for. 

Namjoon knew you in and out. He knew everything there was about you - the side that you preferred to chew your food while you ate. He knew which side you preferred to sleep on at night and your entire morning schedule before work. It’s Namjoon that assures that your health is up to date and even scheduled two check-ups with your doctor so far.

Namjoon has to remind you about the dentist appointment, however, seeing as you haven’t gone in a few years. He shakes his head as his glowing eyes watch you walk the man out, a look of disappointment on your face.

“Want me to start you a shower?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at Namjoon’s sudden entrance. Your back leaned against your closed front door and hadn’t noticed him enter. 

“I…I thought you were….resting?” You bite your lip. Namjoon didn’t need to sleep, of course, but you recall him stating that he’d often rest to recharge. Karan had once stated that if Namjoon goes outside, he could also recharge solarly - whatever that means. 

Namjoon only stares blankly at you. 

You bite your lip for a moment. 

“I, uh, probably do need a shower.” you chuckle humorlessly. “Is everything okay?”

You can feel the tension in the room as Namjoon continues to stare at you. 

Namjoon turns on his heels and saunters down the hall to the bathroom. His change of mood is different but maybe it’s all in your head and you were overthinking this.

Namjoon didn’t have mood swings. 

“Thanks, Joon.” you murmur, entering the bathroom as he starts the shower. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Namjoon again doesn’t respond and instead begins to light candles - aromatherapy is what he called it when he started doing this for you. The different scents are soothing and relaxing just as Namjoon said they would be.

“Are you upset with me?” you question as you begin to disrobe, silk robe lying at your feet. “Is that a stupid question? I don’t know if androids can feel any type of emotion or-”

“Why did you bring him here?”

The shower water falls rough against the tub floor. You blink a couple times to process his question with a quick lick of your lips. “I, uh, didn’t know you…heard us.” you’re embarrassed now.

“I can hear everything.” Namjoon eyes you from his reflection in the mirror, his back turned towards you. “I can see everything, as well, Y/N. I can see right through these very walls.”

Your eyes widened a bit. 

“Excuse me?”

Namjoon remains quiet as you internally question his words. 

“You were watching us?” you are unsure if you should feel upset or further humiliated. If that was the case, that meant Namjoon saw how disappointing your sexlife truly was and just why you always came back to him time and time again. It causes you to close your eyes for a moment and mentally curse yourself - and for Karan for making Namjoon too perfect.

“That’s an invasion of privacy.” you mumble to yourself, turning away from Namjoon to begin your shower.

“You didn’t know that man.” Namjoon retorts. “He could have been a murderer.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “A murderer? He sells chicken.” you reach out your hand to feel the water - it’s always at a perfect temperature whenever Namjoon does it. He doesn’t have to configure it like you do.

Namjoon knows fully where the man works. He is scheduled to work at 9am the next day. 

“What does that matter? You’re drunk.” Namjoon’s tone changes to one you haven’t heard before. “He could’ve taken advantage of you. Then I’ll have to kill him.”

You freeze, hand underneath the warm water. There’s a shiver up your spine and slowly, you turn towards the android. He’s facing you this time, eyes unmoving. 

You’re unsure how to react to what Namjoon has said. Namjoon wouldn’t kill anyone. He barely left your side at times. He reads books and hell, he even shows interest in gardening. 

But that didn’t mean Namjoon wasn’t capable of killing anyone. He wasn’t human - he’s highly intelligent. He could figure out anything in under a minute and just recently did you learn he could see you through your walls. There’s so much you don’t know about Namjoon already that it causes your heart to jolt.

“You’re becoming frightened of me.” Namjoon speaks. “That’s not my intention.”

“N-No, I-”

“I can sense your heartbeat quickening. The hair on your arm is rising, as well.” Namjoon interrupts. It’s pointless to lie to him. “I would never hurt you, Y/N. You know that.”

Did you?

Namjoon’s eyes squint a bit, almost as if he could read your thoughts. 

“I would never lie to you, either. I would kill him.” Namjoon admits, voice a bit monotone. “I would kill anyone who would harm you.”

Your hand was going to prune if you left it under the water any longer. You turn away from Namjoon and decide to get into the shower. You’re speechless for the time being, your heartbeat only quickening. You want to take Namjoon’s words as true - you never felt unsafe with the android around. But there’s something in his tone that does indeed frighten you.

There was a shift and Namjoon noticed it immediately. 

You no longer allow Namjoon into your bedroom and any form of sexual encounters has slowly come to a halt. 

You, when asked, stated that it wasn’t fair to Namjoon to be used as a sexual object for your own satisfaction if he couldn’t gain anything from it - and he dropped a bomb on you that you were too embarrassed (and ashamed) to ask Karan about.

“I feel everything.” was what Namjoon stated and it doesn’t sit right with your spirit. Androids shouldn’t feel things, right? Sex for him should have no feeling - how could it? Asking Karan wasn’t an option because then he’d know you were just as lonely as he said you were. Asking Namjoon wasn’t either because you had a feeling that even he wasn’t sure why.

Namjoon wasn’t content with you stopping him from pleasuring you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let it bother him. He was still here for whatever you needed. He continued to clean and started cooking for you, as well. He would read books to you still and it was soothing, similar to an audiobook. He didn’t make mistakes nor did he miss any words - it was perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was him coming around. The man who’s name he knew, but didn’t care to ever mention. 

The same man who couldn’t make you cum - and never has. Why you brought him back time and time again was beyond him. You were always left disappointed and would eventually use your vibrator to fix it.

Similar to tonight. Namjoon watches the man leave your room and make his  way out of the home and you lay on your bed with a few short breaths. You’re just as disappointed as you always are - what you’ll always be if you remained bringing around that man.

Namjoon tilts his head, his feet moving until they stop right outside your door. His glowing eyes turn back to normal and he raises his arm  to lightly knock onto your door.

“Joon?” you ask from behind it. “Come in.”

You sit up against your headboard as Namjoon enters. He lingers at the door, the hallway light shining behind his tall frame. 

“Was I…too loud?” you trail off, unsure of what Namjoon wanted at this hour. He has stopped attempting to come into your bedroom once you cut your sexual encounters off.

“Why was he here?”

You click your tongue, knitting your brows. You take a deep breath. “Excuse me?” you question in response. “Why are you questioning who I bring into my household, Namjoon?”

Your tone catches Namjoon off-guard and instantly he notices your growing irritation. 

“It’s my job to protect-”

“Cut the bullshit, Namjoon.” you lift your hand to silence him.  “I’m not in any danger. He’s been here almost every night.”

“And every night you lay here and buzz the nerves off of your clit because he cannot make you cum.” Namjoon shoots back.

Your eyes widen.

“Yet, you allow that man back into the household for what?” Namjoon steps into the room. He’s sporting plaid pajama shorts and a tanktop and appears to be ready for bed; in his case, to recharge. “To use your body to masturbate? He doesn’t pleasure you-”

“I told you to stop watching me.” you hiss, your hands clenching into fist. 

“You haven’t came once, Y/N. Once.” Namjoon retorts with a shake of his head. “But you allow him to come back time and time again.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

Namjoon and you are staring right at one another, the tension as high as ever. 

This was your first disagreement with Namjoon, the android not backing down. You’re a bit surprised by his response and unmoving nature. 

“Namjoon.” your teeth grits. “Get. Out.”

“No.” Namjoon responses, gritting his own teeth - maybe to mock you. “I’m not going to sit by while you allow a nuisance back into our home.”

“Our home?” you snicker. “You act like you pay for anything around here.”

“You act like you clean anything around here.” Namjoon retorts. “Or get groceries. Or necessities. Or rearrange anything in this household.” 

You look away. Maybe you were being harsh with Namjoon. This was his home as much as it was yours and it wasn’t fair to him that you were a bit snappy. 

“I didn’t mean that.” you sigh. “I probably shouldn’t take my irritation out on you. You don’t deserve it.”

Namjoon agrees - he doesn’t.

“I just want us to have boundaries.” you cross your arms as you speak. It’s as if you’re trying to save his feelings and lately, you were beginning to think Namjoon, as an android, truly did have them. “I’ve realized that we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t…?” Namjoon is at the foot of your bed now. “...I shouldn’t make you cum?”

“Joon,” you sigh with a slight roll in your eyes. “you’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Why should we stop?” Namjoon questions. “What makes him worthy and not me?”

“I…I just…he’s just…there.” you’re not making any sense, even for a highly intelligent being as Namjoon. “...maybe I don’t want to be lonely.”

“You’re never alone.” Namjoon quips. “I’m always here for you.”

“Of course.” you nod, licking your lips. You want to say more. You want to explain why you and he couldn’t continue further, but you’re left sitting on your bed, unable to look at him for longer than a few seconds.

“Are you upset with me?”

Namjoon takes a seat at the end of your bed.

“No, Joon. I’m not.”

Namjoon’s lips slowly form into a smile, and like always it’s his dimples that has your heart jumping.

“Your heart’s beating fast.” 

“Joon-”

You yelp when you’re suddenly dragged from your seat position to laying flat onto your back. Namjoon had snatched your ankle and yanked you closer to him. He doesn’t allow you any grace time to comprehend what’s happening. 

You’re naked beneath your robe and it hikes up when Namjoon forces your legs apart. He then proceeds to wrap them around his waist, arms embracing you fully. 

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.”

“J-Joon…” you shake your head with a thick swallow. You’re even more ashamed now that Namjoon’s voice causes your pussy to clench with such need. “...we can’t.”

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.” Namjoon repeats. “Isn’t that what you want? To cum?”

Yes it was.

Namjoon knows this - you’re rubbing against him as you both lay here, unbeknownst to you. 

“Why are you against that, Y/N? What are you afraid of?” Namjoon thrusts forward and that causes you to gasp, the friction of his shorts rubs against your clit. “Your heartbeat is increasing as well as your libido.”

Fuck Namjoon for knowing your body inside and out, causing you to go through such different amounts of emotions all at once.

Fuck Karan, as well, for forcing this upon you.

“Human emotions are complicated.” you hide your moan the best you could. “Human…touch is…I’m sure you can’t understand it fully.”

“I can feel you.” Namjoon quips, his embrace tightening. “You’ll have to ask Karan as to why. I feel everything just the same as you do.”

Your eyes flutter a bit, your mind racking with a thousand questions.

“And now,” Namjoon’s hand trails up your thigh. “I want to feel your pussy around me.”

Namjoon was growing amazing at turning himself modern - another thing you had to yell at Karan about. 

“I’m not going to think further about it.” you sigh, defeated and utterly horny. “I’ll just end up hurting my own head.”

Namjoon embraces you into a kiss - one that you allow. It causes you to remember just how much you had missed Namjoon on you. You missed his touch on your skin that would leave a trail of goosebumps behind them. You missed the way he would kiss and suck upon your skin.

You missed Namjoon’s hands, so large and strong yet soft to the touch; the way they feel inside of you especially.

“You’re wetter now than you were with him.” 

Namjoon is smug, knowing fully that no man could pleasure you like he could, especially not a human. He was the perfect being for you - highly intelligent and strong; completely unbeatable. He understood exactly what you needed in life at any given moment. Could a human man truly help you while in sickness? Could they sense when your body was working overtime to prevent you from falling ill and just what to do to prevent it? Could they reach all of the hard to reach places to clean - could they even detect mold or carbon dioxide?

No.

But Namjoon could and with that knowledge, you’ll never be safe with any other human being. 

You inhale deeply when Namjoon’s lips lift from your own. If you could see yourself now, you’ll be sure that your lips were swollen and you appeared like a woman starved to be touched.

Namjoon wants to taste you again. Completely ravish you whole. He has a deep desire to sink his fingers deep inside of you and allow you to quiver and shake with pure need and ecstasy. 

“No foreplay.” 

Namjoon stops in his tracks, having already kissed down your neck to your collarbone, nearly ripping the silk fabric of your robe apart. 

“No…foreplay…?” Namjoon tilts his head, eyes slowly lifting to witness your face. “You love foreplay.”

“I do.” you sighed out. “I just,” you lick your lips. “I just want you to fuck me.”

Namjoon lifts his brows and then he nods, understanding your sudden need. Namjoon leans back to push his shorts down while you watch with curious, lustful eyes.

Namjoon’s cock springs out and your eyes are fixed upon it. It’s erected - of course, you truly ponder if it ever truly wasn’t - and the tip is an inviting flushed pink. There’s veins wrapping around the base of it and as you look closer, they are slowly pulsing.

You hum.

“You,” Namjoon begins, grabbing his cock into his hands and centers the tip directly onto your clit. “look so defeated. So…desperate.”

You bite your lip harshly. Namjoon is teasing you, circling the tip of his cock between your folds. The sight alone is hypnotizing, nearly causing your mouth to water. However, it’s the look upon Namjoon’s face that has you moaning, finally cracking. Namjoon’s eyes are zoned; focused. He eyes the way his cock rubs along your wet clit, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. His mouth is slightly ajar, short pants coming from between them.

Namjoon could actually feel you like he said he could. It’s eerie to think about how an android could, but once again, you did not wish to think too far into it.

“Are you going to fuck me or…” you lick your bottom lip. “...or are you going to fuck me?”

Namjoon glances at you. “How much?”

You tilt your head. “How much what?”

“How many times do you want me to make you cum?” Namjoon questions, his tip now , sliding down to your hole. “How about one for each time he couldn’t?”

Namjoon enters slowly, a raspy chuckle sounding from his lips. “We’ll be here all night, wouldn’t we, Y/N?”

“Fuck you-”

With a quick thrust, Namjoon enters you whole. You yelp out and your back arches. 

“I will.” Namjoon groans.

With both hands gripping firmly upon your waist, Namjoon begins to thrust in rhythmic motions, cock springing in and out of you.

Your hands reach out to dig into the pillows surrounding you for support. You cannot hold back your moans any longer and fully embrace the pleasure that Namjoon provides. It’s insane how much you missed Namjoon and just how much you wished you’d sought him out instead of dealing with someone else. 

For Namjoon, the erotic feeling is something he hasn’t felt before and it’s a sensation that he doesn’t wish to stop. As a highly intelligent being as himself, even he cannot explain what Karan and the other scientist has done to have him feel the normal sensations that a human would - and he wasn’t going to complain about it, either. 

Namjoon’s nails dig into your skin possessively; with such greed. Your pussy is clenching around him perfectly, drawing him in more and more.

“J…Joon, slow down…!” you groan, your eyelids fluttering and barely managing to remain open. 

“No.”

Namjoon’s hips are cracking into you, speed never ceasing - it wasn’t as if he ever needed to stop to gain stamina. When he was done with you, his hand marks would be embedded into your skin permanently. However, the way he’s making you feel at this moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You’re close. I can sense it.” 

Namjoon was always right. It’s inevitable for you to not cum so quickly when he’s fucking you with such need, slamming into your sweet spot with each powerful thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, shaking erratically against your bed.

Namjoon wasn’t done - he had a dozen more times to make you cum and he was fully intending on doing so. You have no time to recover when he flips you from your back to your stomach. He fully rips the robe from your body, exposing you fully.

Namjoon’s pace is just as punishable as it was in the first round. You could barely manage to sit up as for each time Namjoon would only fuck you deeper into the mattress. 

Namjoon is enthralled with the way your pussy only appears to grow tighter; wetter. There's a milky cream coating his cock that evident of your arousal and it only causes him to want to fuck you more.

Large hand glides up your hips, past your back and rests onto your shoulders. He forces you up, back arching. He continues his punishing pounding and your vision blurs at the new found position.

“You’ve ignored me for so long, Y/N.” 

Namjoon’s voice is laced with need, even more evidence that he was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“I should fuck you all night until you’re begging me to stop.” 

Your breast bounces furiously in rhythm with his thrusts.

“You were taunting me, weren’t you?”

“What…?” 

Namjoon’s throat lets out a groan. His right arm snakes around your neck and he pulls you closer to him. Your back slams against his broad chest and his mouth is against your ear. He’s moaning and that alone causes you to once more clench around his cock. 

“You bringing that man here was taunting me…” Namjoon hisses. His thrust slowed down and now they’re hitting deeper. “...I thought of a thousand ways to kill him, you know?”

It should frighten you, Namjoon’s words. It should cause red flags to wave in your mind.

It doesn’t. Namjoon’s words, mixed with the raspiness of his voice, only causes goosebumps to erupt throughout your naked skin. His deep, slow thrusts has your mind clouded with nothing but erotic lust and pleasure that he’s offering you.

“I held myself back because I care for you.” Namjoon’s free hand roams your body, gripping possessively at your breast. “But you didn’t care about me.”

“I do!” you protest, your own hand placing itself atop of his larger one. 

“Then why’d you go against me?”

Namjoon begins to kiss the nape of your neck, free hand trailing down past your stomach and between your legs. He rests it onto your pulsing clit. 

“Why’d you allow another man into our home?” Namjoon bites your neck, teeth sinking into your skin. When you scream out, Namjoon continues. “Why’d you allow another man to touch what was mine, Y/N? Have you no respect for me?”

Namjoon doesn’t let up, his fingers circle your clit as his thrusts begin to increase. 

This felt far too intimate - the way Namjoon holds you, the way he speaks to you. His words are full of emotion, hurt being one of them. 

You recall you and Karan, a few years back, once speaking about robots and if they truly could become sentient and it was a conversation you didn’t truly care for. Now, however, you begin to ponder if the conversation was brought up because he was creating Namjoon, an android that was sentient.

“Joon,” you gasp, your hand reaching back to grasp Namjoon’s head. He’s a bit shocked by your actions, but he doesn’t allow it to halt him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…done that, I-” you were going to cum again. “-I should have thought about your feelings, too.”

Namjoon grumbles inaudible beneath his breath, his thrust sloppy. There’s something in the bit of his stomach he hasn’t felt before, and if he has once it’s a feeling he cannot remember. 

“You love me, right? Say you love me, Y/N.” Namjoon pleads. His aggressive and dominant demeanor is slowly breaking. “I was made for you,Y/N. No one else!”

Your fingers tug at Namjoon’s hair, the soft locks tickling your fingers. His tone is so soft and vulnerable.

“I do love you, Joon.” you sigh out a long and deep sigh. Your fingers continue to tug at his hair for support, an action he does not mind in the slightest. 

Namjoon shudders, your sticky arousal coating his twirling fingers. He lightly shakes his head against your neck, his embrace upon you only tightening. 

“Say it again.”

Your snap your eyes shut, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach only returning. 

“I-I love you, Joon.” you stutter out. “I…I know you were made for me.”

It isn’t long until you’re cumming once more, even harder than the first time. Namjoon allows both of his arms to wrap fully around you as he thrusts forward, panting in your neck.

“Love you so much, Y/N. Never gonna let you go.” Namjoon senses it, the unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach that confuses him but what he does understand is that he wants to let it all out.

A warm substance enters you, shooting throughout your core. Your mind doesn’t process it at first, far too enthralled in your own orgasm to realize that Namjoon, an android, had came directly inside of you. How? The both of you are entirely unsure.

“I’ll be back in the lab in an hour.” Karan speaks as he climbs the steps to your front door.. “It’s been months since we’ve revealed Namjoon.”

Karan stops at your front door and snorts.

“No, of course not. Namjoon is perfect. It took us years programming him.” Karan responds, nose against his ear. “Besides,Y/N hasn’t said anything about him malfunctioning so that’s a good sign.”

Karan lifts his hand to knock upon your door. “I gotta go. Try not to fuck anything up while I’m out.”

Karan puts his phone into his jacket pocket as he awaits for the door to open. He doesn’t call you beforehand - he never did. Today would be no different. 

Karan was curious how Namjoon had come together and if he had managed to adjust to modern society. You would ask a few vague questions, but never anything far too in depth that would have him questioning.

It was nearly a decade ago when he came across Namjoon, the very man who he had gifted you. Namjoon, in simpler terms, was dying and had offered his body to science. It cost Karan a fortune alone to pay for and long, exhausting hours to perfect along the way.

“Karan…”

Karan isn’t taken aback by Namjoon greeting him at the door. He has expected Namjoon to. From you, he has heard that Namjoon was doing amazing in being an assistant and an overall friend, exactly what he was programmed to do.

“Namjoon!” Karan waves his hand. “How are you and Y/N? I’ve come to visit you two. See if everything is fine.”

Namjoon blinks, the door only opens a crack - enough for Namjoon to show his face.

“Okay.” Namjoon murmurs, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Karan nods his head, stepping into the home. It’s eerily quiet inside the home. He strolls past the foyer and his eyebrows furrow. 

There’s flowers on the floor, petals scattering down the hall that would reach your sitting room. He doesn’t question what’s happening - maybe he caught you at the wrong time.

“Is Y/N in the sitting room…?” Karan stops in his tracks as he reaches the sitting area. “Y/N?”

“She’s fine.”

Karan’s eyes fall to your crouched onto the ground. You’re breathing heavily, panting as you’re breathing into an oxygen mask. There’s tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N what the hell-”

As Karan steps closer to get to you, he notices another figure, however this time lifeless. it's a few feet away from you and nearly hidden behind a couch, but he catches it. His mind races at what in the world was going on prior to him entering.

“Namjoon, what happened?” Karan asks. His mind was racing, pounding louder and louder now. 

“Home invasion.” Namjoon responds, closing the door behind him to then step inside the home deeper. “He,” Namjoon points to the man who is lifeless. “came uninvited.”

Karan tries to understand everything that goes on, however Namjoon is being far too vague for his understanding. 

“Y/N is too trusting and naive.” Namjoon shakes his head. “I told her that he could be a murderer of sorts when she began dating him.”

Karan’s head is spinning. He has to sit down - it feels as if the whole room is spinning uncontrollably. 

“H-He tried to h-hurt Y/N?” Karan manages  to find the nearest seat, his body crashing down against it. His throat is clogged, unaware of what is happening to him.

“Sure, let’s say that.” Namjoon chuckles. “I got rid of the problem, Karan. I was created for Y/N. To assure her ultimate safety and him,” Namjoon scoffs. “was not a part of the reason. Y/N doesn’t need another man in her life.”

Karan’s heart is beating erratically, Namjoon notes, but he wasn’t here to assure that Karan was safe. As long as you were then he’s alright with that. 

“You must feel it, right? The Aftermath of Carbon Monoxide poisoning. The dizziness…the shortness of breath. Soon it’ll be nausea.”

Karan begins to cough. It was growing hard to remain alert, his body growing weak and tired. He was growing exhausted by the second.  

“I gave Y/N two options. Us or him.” Namjoon takes a seat on the couch by you, his hand stroking your back gently. “And rightfully so, she chose us.”

You’re continuing to cry, unable to process just what Namjoon has done. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to move from this spot due to pure shock.

You weren’t expecting to wake up one morning to flowers, neither was Namjoon. He watched you welcome the man into the home you and he shared together and thank him. You placed the flowers along the kitchen island and offered him a drink - as if he wasn’t in the next room.

“Y/N is too nice to people. I got rid of the problem, right, baby?”

Maybe Carbon Monoxide was a little harsh - but it scared you enough to obey him. When you experienced the shortness of breath, the fatigue and booming headache, you caught on that this was no longer a joke. That Namjoon wasn;t going to sit around and watch you be taken advantage of by a mere human man who couldn’t keep you safe.

Literally - he laid dead on the floor because he couldn’t save you.

“It’s either him, Y/N, or me.” Is what Namjoon told you as you struggled to breathe. The small oxygen tank in his hands as he watches you. “If you choose to die here tonight then so be it. I’ll sell destruct and we’ll all be dead.”

Namjoon didn’t like doing this. It hurt him to have to punish you like this, but you needed to be taught a lesson. And you learned from your mistake when you reached out for him and with that, now you’re here alive and well. He would nurse you back to health like he was programmed to do because he loved you.

“Namjoon you…you can’t…”

“You weren’t supposed to be here, Karan.” Namjoon speaks. “Why did you have to come today? Now you’ll have to die here, too.” There wasn’t going to be anyone to stop him from his ultimate goal - not even Karan who he felt no ill feelings for.

Karan is unable to move. It’s as if all the air from his lungs were gone.

“I promise to do right by you as your greatest creation.” Namjoon strokes your cheek with his finger. “I’ll keep Y/N safe and together, we’ll grow to love one another deeper.  We can be a family.”

Your tears fall rapidly and you snap them shut as watching Karan slowly die wasn’t something you wanted to see - not now or ever. 

Namjoon wraps an arm around you and presses you to his chest. He assures that your oxygen mask remains on so you could breathe. His eyes watch Karan and he snorts. “I suppose you wish you hadn’t used my body for this purpose.” he murmurs, sure he couldn’t hear him any longer. “Maybe you thought I’ll never grow sentient, but a part of me still is human even if the majority isn’t.”

Namjoon held you a little tighter as you continued to cry. He presses his chin atop of your head and sighs, closing his eyes. Now it could only be you and him -  no one else can come between the two of you and the love you share.

Every season there was a celebration, there was the Ice Fest in winter, where you bundled up in your warmest clothes and sipped hot chocolate while you roamed the snowy streets gazing up at the lights overhead and struggling to get the best spot for the winter parade.

Flower fest in the spring, where the streets were lined with little tents where people could sell flowers, baked goods, or small homemade arts and crafts.

The festival in the summer brought you to the beach where there were volleyball tournaments and a sandcastle-building tournament, which you had lost spectacularly last year when one of your teammates sidestepped wrong and crushed it three minutes before judging.

However your all-time favorite time of year was Autumn, and the Autumn Fest was something you looked forward to all year.

It started as a tradition when you were young. Your parents would take you every year making sure to hold onto you tight as you navigated the town square holding their hands and looking up in awe at how the trees were beautiful shades of red, orange, and sometimes yellow. Stalls were set up along the main street where hot apple cider was sold alongside pumpkin or maple treats. The air was always crisp and cool and you would spend hours strolling around looking at everything there was to see.

Autumn Fest was also how you met your best friend and your secret crush, Namjoon.

You were at the Fest with your parents and your older cousins. The adults thought you were old enough to be unsupervised so you trailed after your cousins and reveled in the joy of finally being fifteen, old enough to be on your own for the first time.

However, your cousins were less than thrilled about having their “baby cousin” trail behind them and ditched you the second they could.

You didn’t panic when you couldn’t find them. You had been at this festival every year so you calmly began to walk back to where you started hoping you could find at least someone from your family.

After getting stuck in a large crowd and making two wrong turns you were lost and too short to see over the crowd.

Panic set in as you clutched your small beaded bag and backed yourself into a corner hoping to calm down and not start crying.

That was when a hand extended out to you and you looked up to see a boy around your age staring down at you in concern.

He had short dark hair and glasses, he smiled at you softly which showed two dimples on his cheeks, you had never met anyone with dimples before so you were intrigued

He introduced himself as Kim Namjoon and asked if you needed help.

You told him you got separated from your family and he offered to bring you back.

It turns out he had just moved here two years ago and was a year older than you. Even at Sixteen Namjoon was tall and was able to navigate the crowd easily as he asked very politely if he could hold your hand so you don’t get separated.

You immediately developed a crush on him as he took you through the crowd and kept you calm.

After twenty minutes of looking you spotted your parents and Namjoon being the gentleman he was, took you right to them, and made sure you got there safe before shooting you a smile and turning to walk away.

You didn’t let him go that easy and asked if he had a cell phone. He nodded and gave you his number saying his phone was for “emergencies only” but he was sure his parents would make an exception if he was texting a friend.

While you both went to different schools you stayed in touch. Texting every day, talking on the phone when you could. Namjoon told you about his life and his friends and you told him about yours.

Because he was a year older he would sometimes come over and help you with your homework. You were convinced he was a genius which always made him laugh. You liked when he laughed as those beautiful dimples would pop out and his eyes would crinkle making your stomach flip and a blush rise on your skin.

Even now ten years later Namjoon still managed to make you blush.

Your secret crush was never revealed, instead, you smartly kept it hidden in the pages of your locked diary refusing to let it surface so you didn’t ruin your friendship with him.

You had watched from the sidelines as he dated some girls, none of them ever lasted too long. You even dated a boy in your last year of high school but it just didn’t end up working out.

In University you and Namjoon joined your friend groups and soon enough it was a huge group of ten. Two of your friends were dating two of his friends and even though you both got teased about how you both should just date each other nothing ever came from it.

But sometimes…. fate steps in….in a way you never would have imagined.

Present Day

You smoothed your hair down and checked your reflection in the mirror one more time.

You decided to go peak fall vibes with your outfit as you decided to wear your orange sweater and light-colored jeans.

Once again Autumn Fest was upon your little town and you were going with your big group of ten which would be exciting as it was hard for all of you to get together nowadays.

Everyone was adults now, with their responsibilities and jobs and lives and while you got together when you could, getting all ten of you together was a struggle.

You all had agreed Autumn Fest this year was a must.

Before you could get too lost in your thoughts your phone buzzed on your dresser and you picked it up in time to see Namjoon video calling you.

“Hey Joonie!” You said as you accepted the call and immediate chaos ensued.

“Hi Y/N!”

“Tell her we are almost there!”

“Ask her if I can borrow her pink sweater I didn’t think it would be so cold!”

“It’s October of course it’s cold! Mina! Come on!”

“Hey, I want to see her!”

You let out a laugh as you sifted through your closet to fetch the pink sweater you knew Mina was asking about. You wondered why she didn’t just ask her boyfriend Yoongi for a sweater but shoved it in your messenger bag anyway.

“Guys one at a time!” You teased as multiple faces filled the frame and you could hear Jin scolding everyone as he was trying to concentrate and not crash the car.

“We are on our way if you couldn’t tell.” Namjoon teased as he pushed Taehyung out of the shot and focused the camera on himself.

And god did he ever look good.

His hair was much longer these days and the perfect shade of brown to complement his eyes. He was wearing a plaid jacket and kept throwing his head back and laughing as Taehyung fought to stay in the frame.

“Hi Y/N!” Taehyung screeched as you giggled and Namjoon gave him another hard shove.

“Tell her we are a minute away!” Yoongi called as you rushed to gather all your things while holding the phone. You threw everything into your messenger bag and ran down the stairs.

“Thanks, Yoongi!” You called as you could see Namjoon pouting on the screen.

“What about me?” He asked, lower lip sticking out in the cutest way.

“All you did was call me and let Tae cause chaos.” You reminded him as you could see the van pull into the driveway.

When Jin first announced he was getting a van everyone teased him calling him a “soccer mom” but on days like today you thanked your stars he did have a van because it was able to fit more than half of your group inside.

The other half was riding with Hoseok.

You made sure the door to your apartment was locked and practically skipped to the van as Mina threw open the door and you were met with a chorus of hellos as you struggled to get into the backseat smushed between Namjoon and Taehyung.

Namjoon gave you a sideways smile as you belted yourself in and fished through your bag throwing Mina the sweater you nabbed from your closet as Jin pulled out of your driveway and to the town’s main square.

The drive was full of chaos but that was usually how it was with your group. By the time you found a parking spot, you were itching to get out of the van and into the fresh crisp autumn air.

Jin was lucky enough to get a spot three down from where Hoseok parked and you all met up in the parking lot exchanging hellos and hugs.

Jimin raced towards you and pulled you into a crushing hug and he excitedly babbled in your ear about how this year they were determined to get Hoseok on some rides and not let him chicken out as he did almost every year.

Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were leading the way to the festival grounds as Yoongi put his arm around Mina, Jin held hands with Sooji and you snuggled into Namjoon’s side.

He smiled down at you.

“I feel like with all this chaos I never got to say hello.” He said softly as you blushed and pushed your hair back from your face.

“I mean I did just see you two days ago remember?” You tease as you shove your hands in your pockets to ward off the chill.

“Two days is a long time. You were probably going through withdraws without me.” He comments slyly as you dramatically roll your eyes and enter the town square.

It is beautiful as always with overhead lights woven through the streets and small vendors everywhere selling small handmade things. You can already feel your mouth watering when you get a whiff of the maple pancake stand as your group stands there to take it all in.

“Alright, Hoseok we need four to ride so you’re coming with us,” Taehyung explains as Hoseok’s eyes widen and he tries to come up with an excuse but the younger boys are strong and Jungkook and Tae hold his arms back and Jimin cackles as he waves to everyone before leading the three other boys to the far end of the grounds where three rides are set up.

“Should we stop them? Hoseok looks like he’s already going to throw up.” Yoongi muses as the rest of you giggle and you can hear Hoseok’s protests fading as he is led further away.

“I’m sure he will be alright,” Jin says as he wraps an arm around Sooji and leads her towards the food muttering something about how he has waited all year for a pumpkin pie.

The group slowly disperses which leaves you and Namjoon to fend for yourselves and after a short discussion, you decide to go up and down the rows of vendors and see what they have. You both decide it is best to stay away from the rides as you know how persuasive Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung can be.

You both chat as you walk up and down the rows, taking your time to peek in the white tents if something piques your curiosity.

It’s a beautiful day with a big blue sky and large fluffy white clouds and you smile when Namjoon buys you both hot chocolates and you get to wrap your hands around the cup to warm them.

After an hour of browsing, in which Namjoon purchased a new black woven scarf and you purchased some small hand-painted pumpkins you both made your way to the end of the stalls where there were picnic tables set up where people could relax and eat.

“They had a lot more this year than last year huh?” Namjoon asked as you both stood off to the side to sip your drinks.

“Yeah, I’m sad the basket weaver didn’t come back though. She was always so nice.” You replied jutting out your bottom lip in a pout which caused Namjon to crack a smile.

“She was the best. Hopefully, she will come back next year.” He said using his free hand to rub your back soothingly which causes a shiver to run down your spine that has nothing to do with the cooler weather.

“I liked her for her baskets. You only liked her because she always said how handsome you were.” You teased as Namjoon flushed and adjusted the beanie on the top of his head.

“She thought I was handsome…..Since when?” Namjoon said sarcastically as you nudged him and rolled your eyes.

Every time you visited her stall she always not so subtly flirted with Namjoon commenting how he just kept getting more handsome with age. She was very bold with her flirtation and Namjoon always politely laughed it off seeing as she was much older than him to begin with.

“Come on should we head back and see if we can find the others?” You asked changing the subject.

As Namjoon was about to agree, something caught his eye.

A booth was hidden in the back that was not the usual white like the others but an indigo blue scattered with small white stars.

“Woah what’s that? I’ve never seen that here before.” He said pointing it out and staring at you.

“Maybe the basket weaver upgraded?” You teased as he nudged you and headed towards the booth.

“Wait where are you going?” You asked struggling to keep up with his long strides as he made his way over. The booth was tucked far back and for a second you wondered if this area was restricted as no one was even over here and the music from the Fest seemed to die away.

“It’s a booth, right? One we have never seen before. We should check it out.” He said as you pulled on his arm to get him to stop.

“Should we though? It’s in the middle of nowhere, and kind of spooky. No one is even over here.” You comment feeling goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Come on Y/N. Don’t be scared I’ll protect you.” He says valiantly as you shiver again but slowly nod trying to ignore the uncertainty that is stirring inside of you.

Namjoon leads the way over to the tent and you can see there is a little wooden sign that was hammered into the ground that says “Come in and Discover…”

You bite your lip.

“Discover what?” You ask Namjoon as he is looking a little leery.

“Should we go back? Seriously?” You ask as a cloud covers the sun setting everything in a dark shadow and the wind picks up making the leaves dance around your feet.

“It will be fine. I want to know what this sign wants us to discover.” He says opening the doors to the tent and stepping inside.

You follow suit and gasp.

It is a lot bigger on the inside and not what you expected at all.

The tent is huge with bookshelves lining every wall. Small wooden tables are set up with little glass vials and bottles, and hanging from the ceiling are all sorts of dried herbs.

The whole place smells of musty roots and bark and you both stand there in shock and take it in.

The shelves are lined with books and trinkets. Some of them have crystals on them and others have tarot cards and other mystical things.

“I don’t think we should be in here.” You whisper as you are about to back away but Namjoon slowly steps forward and begins to search the shop.

“Seriously Joon we should go. No one is even in here.” You hiss as something moves at your feet and you nearly scream until you see it is a small black cat nudging its head against your ankle.

“The cat likes you.” Namjoon quips as he searches the shelves but you are still frozen on the spot.

You shouldn’t be here.

Something about this place is off, though you can’t put your finger on exactly what.

It’s giving you a bad feeling.

Namjoon scans the shelves then he moves to inspect the small wooden tables which each have something different displayed.

From worry stones to crystals, to a whole table dedicated to rose quartz. He moves around silently as he takes it all in and the stars on the ceiling seem to glimmer above him.

“You have to admit this place is cool.” He says stopping in front of the tarot card table and picking up a deck to inspect it before putting it down.

The hair on your arms stands up and you aren’t exactly sure why but something about this place is setting off alarm bells in your head and you know you need to leave

“Yeah real cool now let’s go. Please.” You beg as Namjoon cocks an eyebrow and lets out a laugh.

“Don’t tell me you're scared? I said I’d protect you.” He says smiling softly as the cat leaves your side to nuzzle his ankles and he leans down to scratch under its soft chin.

When Namjoon straightens up he forgets how close he is to a table, his hip hits the table hard and knocks over a vial of something that breaks and spills everywhere.

“Oh shit.” He hisses as he turns to scoop up everything with his hands as you beg him not to touch anything.

“Shit Shit Shit.” He chants as the curtain on the other side of the room flies open and you hear Namjoon scream in fright as a lady stands there with her hands on her hips.

She had greying hair that was in a long braid down her back and piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare into your very soul. She wore a simple long forest green dress and when Namjon began to apologize she waved him off.

“Happens all the time dearie. My shop seems to attract clumsy people. And while you are tall and strong, Kim Namjoon you are clumsy.” She says getting a broom and sweeping up the glass that fell to the floor.

You are frozen on the spot as Namjoon slowly backs away to stand by you again.

“H-How do you know my name?” He asks voice low and panicked as you feel your heart beat in your chest. You have lived in this town your whole life and have never seen this woman before.

“Oh, I know a lot of things.” She muttered as he swept everything up in a small dustpan and got rid of it in a garbage nearby.

“We saw your booth and we were curious. I’m so sorry for breaking…whatever that was. I’ll pay for it.” He says nervously getting his wallet from his back pocket as she once again waves him off.

“No need. The cat warned me I had visitors and one would break something. I was prepared.” She said taking out the same vial from her pocket and placing it on the table.

Your jaw dropped.

“Th-The cat?” You asked as her eyes met yours and she nodded.

“Oh yes, he is a very knowledgeable cat.” She said as the black cat appeared again this time weaving between your legs before joining her on the other side of the room.

“Uh well sorry again We-we should g-go.” Namjoon stammered as you swallowed thickly and nodded.

She cackled which sent a shiver down your spine.

“Leaving so soon? You were so curious about this place?” She commented as Namjoon stepped closer to you nearly shoving you out the door.

“I think it’s best if we go before we break something else. Have a good day.” He said nudging you out the door with his shoulder as the store owner chuckled.

“May I at least do a palm reading?” She asked softly holding out her hand to Namjoon and beckoning him forward.

“Uh, I really think we- sh-should go.” He said halfway out of the tent as you struggled to see what was happening over his shoulder.

“Just one? It will take only a moment. No one ever comes to my tent and I rarely get such exciting visitors.” She pleads as Namjoon sighs.

“Don’t Joon. I’m serious let’s leave.” You hiss but you can tell her pleading works when Namjoon steps forward and offers his palm.

She giggles in delight sounding more like a young girl and not an old woman as she takes his palm and you see Namjoon visibly shiver.

She studies it for a bit. Turning his hand over and tracing the lines before she hums and lets him go.

“You have a lot of responsibility at work. Though not the oldest you take on the role of the oldest with your friends. Your parents may not tell you they are proud of you but they are. You need to stop hiding emotions that have been buried from your teenage years, they will just eat away at you more and more. Telling someone how you feel will set you free you know.” She quips quirking an eyebrow as Namjoon blushes.

“I-I don’t know what you're talking about.” He says lowly as she grins at him.

“Oh dear boy I think you do. And if you don’t….the ties of fate will step in” Her voice dropped dramatically when she said the last part causing Namjoon to jerk out of her grasp and hit the table behind him, breaking more vials, this time full of liquid which sloshed down his jeans.

“Shit!” He exclaims as in an instant the store owner hands him some paper towels to dab and the wet spot on his thigh which isn’t too noticeable because of his dark jeans.

“I-Shit I’m so- you startled me and-” Namjoon stammers as she once again waves him off as if destroying her goods is perfectly normal.

Or maybe the cat warned her again.

“I-Yeah-We should go.” You say grabbing Namjoon's arm and not waiting for her to offer to read your palm instead you wave at her and drag Namjoon out of there before he can wreck more stuff.

“You okay Joon?” You ask when you are safely far away from her tent and Namjoon throws the paper towels out.

“Besides my pride being hurt I’m okay.” He says taking off his beanie to run his hands through his hair nervously.

“The palm reading didn’t hurt, right? Like you’re okay?” You ask staring back at the tent.

“Yeah I’m good she just…startled me that’s all.” He says also staring at the tent with a weird look on his face.

“Should we forget about that and go back to the others?” You ask shaking your head and trying to put that whole weird interaction behind you.

“Y-Yeah let’s go.” Namjoon agrees as you both walk off, but you notice him gazing back at the tent a couple of times.

After that weirdness the rest of the afternoon was fine. You met up with Jin, Yoongi, and their girlfriends and after much searching you found Hoseok pleading with the others to do something besides making him sick from rides.

You all sat down in the large seating area after ordering warm soups and while you snuggled next to Namjoon you noticed he was quiet all afternoon. While everyone around you chatted and took pictures Namjoon kept staring into his soup like it had all the answers he was looking for.

The rest of the afternoon your big group wandered the grounds but Namjoon still kept to himself, keeping his hands tucked into his pockets and staring at his shoes or the ground.

He had been off ever since that encounter with the spooky vendor and every time you tried to talk to him or lean into him he froze up or shied away from you, opting to wander ahead with the others leaving you behind with Jin, Sooji, and Hoseok.

“Did something happen with you and Joon?” Hoseok finally asked as he looped his arm through yours and smiled softly down at you. The others had gone up ahead to stand in a long line for a maple donut but you stayed back saying you were full from lunch.

“Yes? No? I don’t think so. Not sure.” You say finally telling Hoseok about the weird interaction and how Namjoon had hardly talked to you after that.

“Do you think the Witch did something to him and now he hates me?” You ask biting your bottom lip in nervousness as Hoseok’s eyes widen.

“Was she actually a witch?” Hoseok fretted as you shook your head.

“I mean she never introduced herself so I can’t call her by a name, can I? She seemed very witchy.” You admit as Hoseok smiles.

“I think it’s all just the theme of the Fest. You know. Autumn, Spooky vibes. She probably turned it up because you were her first customer. Namjoon is probably fine but I can ask him about it if you like.” He offers and you rest your head on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks for the offer though.” You say as the group comes back and Yoongi advises everyone that they should head out as a storm is going to blow through in around an hour.

You all make your way back to where you parked and as you are piling in the vehicles you realize Namjoon isn’t anywhere to be found.

“Wait where’s Namjoon?” You ask Jungkook who is getting into Hoseok’s car and frowns.

“I thought he was with you?” Jimin pipes up as you shake your head and pull out your phone to call him.

Just as you are about to hit call Namjoon runs across the parking lot, cheeks red as he holds his beanie firmly on his head and nearly collides with Yoongi when he tries to stop.

“Where were you we thought you were with us?” Taehyung asks from the backseat as Namjoon tries to catch his breath.

“I just got separated that’s all.” He says holding one hand to his chest to control his breathing.

You cocked an eyebrow as you took in his disheveled look.

“Well, you found us that’s all that matters. Now we need to go a storm is coming. They said we are in for a lot of rain.” Yoongi warns as everyone piles into the vehicles and Namjoon settles in the back with Taehyung letting you sit in the middle.

This time is different though as he folds himself up as small as possible and angles his knees away from you, not bothering to look at anyone but instead to look out the window where small raindrops were starting to hit the ground and the sky was thick with dark clouds.

Taehyung nudged you and shot you a confused look which made you shrug your shoulders as the van doors closed and Jin made sure everyone was belted in before pulling out of his parking spot.

The drive home was quiet as everyone seemed tired from the day, the only sounds being the radio and the rain hitting the windshield as Jin navigated the streets.

“Can I be dropped off first?” Namjoon asked breaking the silence as Jin stared at him through the rearview mirror.

“Namjoon you are squished in the corner I was going to let Yoongi and his girlfriend out first because their house is the closest.” He explains as Namjoons lips purse into a tight line.

“Please Jin. Me first?” He asks as Jin’s eyes meet yours for a brief moment before shrugging his shoulders and turning his signal on to get in the other lane.

“Why do you want to go home first? Are you okay?” You whisper to him as Namjoon turns away from you and places his forehead on the glass and huffs out a small sigh.

“Whatever I did I’m sorry okay? But you can’t just ignore me Joon.” You say grabbing for his arm as he shoves you away which causes Taehyung to reach across you and smack Namjoons forearm.

“Hey! Don’t treat Y/N Like that!” He nearly shouts causing most of the car to look back at you.

“Sorry, I just don’t feel good that’s all.” He mutters still not looking at anyone as his jaw clenches and the rain comes down harder outside.”

“Don’t worry Joon we are almost there,” Yoongi says as Jin turns on Namjoons street.

The car ride is painfully silent and by the time Jin pulls into Namjoon’s driveway he already has his seatbelt off and is climbing over the seat to get out of the car.

“Wait until the car stops!” Jin shouts but Namjoon is already half over the seat and almost in Sooji’s lap as he throws open the door and covers his head with his hands running across the driveway to his door.

“Where the hell are his manners? No, thank you. No goodbye?” Yoongi grumbles as you unclip your seatbelt and chase him out in the rain.

“Y/N? What are you doing?!” Taehyung asks as you climb over the seat, careful not to wack anyone in the face as you jump out of the vehicle.

“If he’s not feeling well I have to make sure he is okay. Thanks for the ride Jin!” You call as you close the door and run up the driveway squinting in the pouring rain and praying he didn’t lock the door.

Lucky for you the door was not locked and you slipped inside waving at Jin and the others as you closed the front door.

The house was eerily quiet as you kicked off your shoes and watched as Jin backed out of the van and headed down the street.

The rain was pouring down and thunder was booming as you made your way through Namjoon’s house.

He wasn’t in the living room or bedrooms so you figured he was in the bathroom.

You bit your lip wondering what to do and decided to knock on the door and let him know you were there.

“Joonie! You okay? Can I get you anything?” You asked as you heard him yelp from the other side as you pressed your ear to the door.

“Go away Y/N.” He demanded as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“No. If you're not feeling well someone has to stay with you and I volunteered. Now tell me what you need.” You asked as you heard him groan.

“Nothing I just need to be alone. Please. Leave me alone.” He growled.

“Okay well I’m going to the living room and if you're not out in half an hour I’m coming to check on you again.” You warn as you stomp down the hallway and plop yourself on his couch.

The rain was lashing against the windows and the sky was alight with lightning and even though you didn’t like storms you stayed put on Namjoons couch clutching a pillow and wondering what the heck could be wrong with him.

After ten minutes you heard the shower running.

After thirty minutes you heard the shower still running.

Was he trying to drown himself? What the hell was going on?

You were starting to grow nervous so you sat outside the bathroom door and played on your phone waiting for him.

After fifty minutes the shower stopped.

After an hour the door finally unlocked and Namjoon stepped out looking distraught.

“Joonie thank god I was about to kick down the door.” You admitted scrambling to stand up as he glared down at you.

“Why are you still here?” he asked frostly as he crossed his arms over his large chest and stared down at you.

“Because I already told you I’m not leaving. If something is wrong and you are sick someone has to take care of you.” You say as he pushes his wet hair from his forehead and lets out a weary sigh.

“Sorry for caring about you.” You say voice dripping with sarcasm as you feel anger bubble up.

Namjoon shifts from foot to foot.

“It’s not like that it’s just-”

“It’s just what Joonie? Almost all afternoon you ignored me and pretended I didn’t exist. You stormed out of the car without saying goodbye to anyone and are now annoyed I’m staying here to check in on you to make sure you are okay. Don’t be all annoyed I care about you.” You bite out glaring at him as he shoves his hands in his sweatpant pockets and shifts foot to foot again.

“Come on let’s go to the couch. I think we have to talk.” He says not bothering to look at you, instead rushing past you to the living room.

Your stomach drops.

You padded across the floor to the living room and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Namjoon, tucking your legs under your body and holding a pillow close to your chest.

“Namjoon whatever I did to upset you I’m sorry, but you have to talk to me about it not just ignore me all afternoon.” You start as his lips part and he shakes his head.

“It’s not that. You didn’t do anything to upset me.” He says in a low voice as another rumble of thunder makes you flinch.

“Then what the heck is going on?” You ask fiddling with the pillow.

“I uh. Fuck this is awkward.” He mutters running a hand through his hair and shifting on the couch nervously as he fiddles with the pillow in his lap.

“You can tell me anything Joon.” You reply softly as his eyes meet yours and he nods.

“Well, I’m not sick. I mean I am. I guess. I dunno… after we visited that Witch I started to feel funny.” He begins, swallowing hard and not making eye contact with you.

“Okay, I’m glad we both admit she had spooky witchy vibes.” You tease as Namjoons eyes snap to yours and he looks serious.

“Y/N she is an actual Witch.” He confesses as you stare at him in disbelief.

“Sure Good one Namjoon.” You say cackling as he shakes his head again.

“I asked her. She is a witch. Descendant of some super-powered witch from eons ago.” Namjoon says in a serious tone which has you sitting up straighter on the couch.

“You didn’t ask her. I was there? I would have heard you ask her.” You deadpan.

“I went back and asked her. There were things I needed…to talk to her about.” Namjoon says slowly as his eyes once again are fixed on a spot on the floor as he clenches the pillow in his lap and his cheeks flush a pretty pink color.

“Okay? Sure… so she’s a Witch. What does that have to do with anything.” You say in disbelief.

“No Y/N she is seriously a Witch. I’m not kidding.”

You stared at Namjoon as he continued.

“When I first entered, I thought the whole thing was a joke. The stars, the tarot cards, and crystals. I didn’t mean to knock over the table but I did. I apologized again when I revisited her.” He explained as you stayed silent.

“She read my palm and I just felt…weird. Like tingly throughout my body when she touched me. This sounds silly but I felt like I could feel she was…magic. Or had magic. The whole thing gave me goosebumps.”

You nodded as the rain came down harder outside.

“Anyway when I knocked over the liquid and it got on my pants that’s when I started to feel….wrong. You ushered me out before I could ask her what the hell spilled on me but I figured it was nothing. Until it was something.”

“When the guys were in line for food I slipped away and went to talk to her. It was getting…worse and I figured she had something to do with it. She told me it was liquid desire and until I acted on it the…symptoms would stay the same or get worse.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“She told me things about myself that I…well…. I knew… but there were things I never told anyone. She knew a lot about me. I figured I could fix it on my own and that’s why I left the car and ran into the bathroom. I didn’t want to involve anyone else.” He says eyes finally locking on yours as you take in his story.

“So she….hexed you? With liquid desire? And it made you…sick?” You asked slowly forming the words knowing how obscure they sounded coming out of your mouth.

He nodded and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Namjoon I’m sorry I just, this doesn’t sound real… I mean a Witch hexed you? She’s not a real witch? I just….what?” You asked still laughing nervously as Namjoon groaned.

“This is why I didn’t want you here I know I sound crazy!” He exclaims.

“You do sound a little bit crazy. You could have just said you ate something that didn’t agree with you.” You reminded him as Namjoon covered his hands with his face and groaned.

“What? That’s a lot more believable than you knocking over a table in a Witch hut and hexing yourself!” you explain as Namjoon finally has enough and whips the pillow off his lap.

You look down and gasp as all the pieces fall into place.

Liquid Desire.

Symptoms

Oh.My.God.

Namjoon groaned and threw himself back against the couch as he spread his legs wider and you gasped when you saw his bulge pressing against the soft material.

Even from across the couch, he looked painfully hard and it all clicked in.

That was why he wanted you to go away.

That was why he took such a long shower.

That’s why he was so snappy with you and ignored you

“You spilled liquid Viagra on your pants?” You say softly as Namjoon lets out a pitiful groan and you can see his cock twitch against the material.

“Something like that yeah, she called it liquid desire. From what she explained some people will have a strong desire for money or food but she said in my case it was what I desired most.” He said voice muffled by the pillow he threw over his face in embarassment.

“You got sex hexed?” You whispered as Namjoon finally lifted his head and made eye contact with you.

“That’s why I didn’t want you around. It’s embarrassing. I figured I could take care of it on my own but Y/N it’s not going down.” He whined, cheeks a rosy pink in the dim lighting and you swallowed hard.

Well.

That was…

Well.

“I- Don’t know what to say.” You admit feeling your body heat up and a slow pulse between your legs as your eyes once again flitted down to the sizeable bulge filling out the fabric of his sweatpants.

His cock was hard and straining against the material. You could see the slight curve to it that made your core throb and your mouth water. You felt bad because Namjoon was clearly in distress but he also looked so hot sitting there so turned on he couldn’t take it.

“I asked her how to break it and she told me. But I figured she was wrong somehow.” Namjoon explained carefully as the lights flickered from the storm outside and goosebumps rose on your skin.

“How do you fix it?” You asked staring up at his handsome face in the lowlight.

“Someone who I desire has to be the one to fix it.” He says as you suck in a breath and try not to stare at his crotch.

“Well uh- I’m sure we can go online and find one of your past girlfriends.” You say leaning down to grab his laptop from the coffee table desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“It’s not them. That won’t work,” he says voice strained as you turn to him abandoning the laptop for now.

“Then we go back to the Witch and make her reverse it.” You confirm as Namjoon shakes his head.

“I’m trying to help you here and you keep shutting down my ideas!” You complain as he bites his lip and groans again.

“Y/N It’s you. You gotta fix this. I can’t. I’ve tried.” He grits out as he scoots closer to you on the couch and you back away.

“What? Me? It-I-Um-What?” You stammer feeling heat rise to your cheeks and blood pounding in your ears.

“It’s about desire, right? So it’s not me. It can’t be.” You say looking anywhere but him and feeling your heart race in your chest.

“It is. God Y/N it is. I’ve liked you for so long. The Witch even told me it was you. I was too stupid to admit it to myself but she could see right through me.” He pleads grabbing your hands as you flinch and stand up.

“I-I don’t know what to say. This-This is too much. I mean-Yeah- I just- Give me a minute.” You fret as you pace his living room and Namjoon lays down on his stomach on the couch giving you the time you need.

“You don’t have to like me back. I just… It won’t go away Y/N and it’s so painful at this point. I’ve made myself cum four times already and it won’t fucking go down. I’m so horny right now.” He admits as you feel a shiver run down your spine and wetness coat your panties.

“Fuck Joon you can’t say shit like that.” You breathe out as you stop pacing to stare at him.

He is on his stomach on the couch, his big dark eyes look up at you and you can see him subtly shifting on the couch, rutting his hips into the cushions which makes you nearly whimper.

“It’s true. I’m so fucking hard. Y/N you are the only answer please.” He begs and you cover your face with your hands.

“I know I’m asking a lot and this was not the way I wanted to tell you I like you but fuck we gotta do something. I can’t go on like this and there is no way I’m going to a doctor about this.” He pleads staring up at you.

“This isn’t how I pictured our first time to go you know.” You admit as you sit on the very edge of the couch and Namjoon’s eyes widen.

“You pictured this?” He says slowly and you smile.

“Of course Joon. I’ve liked you for ages too I just didn’t want to ruin the friendship and now I gotta get you off so your dick doesn’t explode. It’s not very romantic.” You say as Namjoon chuckles and sits up, using his large hand to adjust his bulge which causes your eyes to flick down to it again.

“After this, I will take you out on a date. A real date. A super romantic date. I promise.” He says as the heel of his hand comes down to grind against his aching shaft, still trapped in the confines of his sweatpants.

“Is this just your boner talking?” You tease as he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not I want to take you out on a date. I’ve wanted to for a while I just didn’t want to ruin the friendship like you said. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

“So you’ve been hard since we visited the Witch? That’s a long time Namjoon.” You say as he nods.

“Yeah, why do you think I distanced myself from you? I didn’t want you to think I was a pervert walking around like this. That’s why I stayed on my side of the car. The jeans I wore made it super freaking obvious I was hard and no matter what I did it would not go away” He groaned still rubbing his hand along his hard-on.

You can see his dick twitch as he strokes it slowly and you bite back a whine.

“I can’t believe a sex hex brought us together.” You groan as Namjoon laughs.

“We can keep that part between us. Actually, I’d rather we did. My friends would never let me live this down.” He admits.

You both laugh to ease some of the tension then you lapse into a comfortable silence.

“Okay so we have a plan so should we-” You say, suddenly feeling nervous as Namjoon smiles softly at you.

“We don’t have to just get it over with. We can take it slow. I want to take it slow if you're okay with that. I don’t want our first time to be just because of a stupid sex hex.” He explains as you nod slowly and he shifts so he is sitting upright on the couch.

“C’mere. Can I kiss you?” He asks and when you nod he pulls you onto his lap so you are straddling his thighs and he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and careful as both of you feel it out. His hands stay firm on your back as he pushes you into him and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You moan against his mouth as Namjoon slowly slips his tongue inside and runs it along yours making goosebumps appear on your skin.

The kiss is electric and you shiver when he forcefully grabs your hips and pulls you closer into him so you are resting comfortably overtop of his aching hard-on.

His hands are firm on your back as he traces lines and continues to kiss you with passion.

You lace your hands through his hair and tug the strands softly as Namjoon lets out the most delicious moan against your lips.

You can’t help but grind down on his cock as he whines and arches his hips up desperate for more friction.

“Need you so bad,” he begs against your swollen lips as you smirk and gather the hem of his shirt taking your time to get it off his head.

You have seen Namjoon shirtless before and it never failed to take your breath away.

His body was lean, sculpted, and perfect to leave kisses on which was exactly what you did.

You continued to slowly roll your hips, giving him the friction his cock needed as you trailed your lips down his collarbones and chest.

Namjoon threw his head back and grunted as his hips met yours, pressing his cock harder into you as you took your time tasting every inch of his skin.

“Please Y/N I’m so fucking hard for you. Don’t tease.” He whines as you get up off of his lap to push the coffee table out of the way and settle down on your knees.

“How many times did you make yourself cum before you realized it didn’t work?” You asked as Namjoon stared at you with desire as you parted his thighs and ran your nails up and down them.

“At least twice. I tried two extra times to be sure. I don’t know if I have cum left in me but I’m still so fucking hard.” He groans as you grab at the hem of his sweats and pull them down in one swoop as Namjoon lifts his hips to help you.

His briefs go next and you are met with the sight of his hard cock.

The anticipation was thick in the air as you took in his length and girth. His cock stood proud against his stomach and was a pretty flushed color. The tip was red and shiny with precum and you nearly salivated as a single bead of precum oozed out of the slit and down the shaft.

His balls were heavy and full and when you cupped them Namjoon let out a strangled groan as you lightly felt them up.

“I think your still full of cum Joonie.” You cooed as you slowly ran your thumbs along his ballsac and he pushed his hips towards your mouth small pleads falling from his plush lips.

When you wrapped a hand around his heated shaft Namjoon let out a broken moan and when you decided to add more pressure and start to jerk him off his cock throbbed in your hand.

“Close already?” You teased as Namjoon bit his lip and watched with eyes wide as you jerked him at a steady pace.

“I don’t think I can last long it feels too good.” He grits out as you speed up your movements and suck on the velvety head of his cock.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his thigh muscles tense and you snickered when he began to chant your name.

“Please-fuck-please.” He cries out as you work him harder with your mouth and your hand. You make sure to suckle the head and hollow out your cheeks as you flick your wrist at the top making Namjoon cry out your name.

You open your mouth wide and hold out your tongue lightly smacking his cockhead against your wet tongue causing his cock to visibly twitch in your hand and you decide to surprise him by taking him all the way down as far as you can go.

You bury your nose in his nearly trimmed pubes and swallow him down as another round of precum coats your tongue and throat.

When you pull back Namjoon is an absolute mess above you.

“C-Close so fucking close holy shit don’t stop.” He begs, voice broken as you continue to jerk him harder wanting to feel his release coat your tongue.

Namjoon fists your hair and cries out your name and you swear you have never heard anything so beautiful. His head is thrown back and every single muscle in his body is strained as he chants and whines and thrashes on the couch as he finally cums hard down your throat.

Cum coats your tongue and you swallow it all as you slow down your jerks and let Namjoon ride out his high.

You take your time bringing him down from his orgasm and when he mutters about being sensitive you pull off his cock and stare up at his fucked out expression.

“Holy shit.” He manages to get out as you crawl back on the couch and cuddle into his side listening to his heavy breathing and letting him kiss the top of your head.

“You’re so sexy when you cum Joonie.” You say to him as he groans and you see his heavy cock twitch between his legs.

“Fuck Y/N you are way too good at that. Holy shit.” He whimpers as you giggle against his bare shoulder and rub your legs together to ease some of the ache.

You both sit in silence listening to the rain as you let Namjoon recover but after several moments you realize his cock hasn’t gone down at all. In fact, it looks like he didn’t even cum.

“Joonie why is your cock still hard?” You ask as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“Well, I desire you. Not just a blowjob and handjob from you. Not that I’m complaining that was…. amazing holy shit… I just… I think we need to do more.” He says shyly as you turn on the couch to face him.

“I want to fuck you Y/N. I want to make you cum on my cock and scream my name.” He says honestly and your eyes widen when he doesn’t wait for your response, instead, he throws you down on the couch and starts to kiss you harshly.

You tangle your hands in his hair as his lips tackle yours. The first kiss was soft and gentle but this was full of passion and fire as his hands come down to rip off your sweater and work on getting off your bra.

You moan when he finally gets it off and your nipples are exposed to the cold air.

Namjoon wastes no time latching his plush lips onto a nipple and sucking harshly causing you to arch up into his hungry mouth and whine out his name as you feel his cockhead bump your clit through your jeans.

Namjoon is an expert with his mouth as he alternates sucking on each breast and palming the other one. Flicking his thumb over your nipples makes electricity run down your spine as your body gets taken over with carnal desire.

“Joon. More. Please. Need you.” You cry out grinding your core against his cockhead desperate for some friction as Namjoon chuckles darkly in your ear.

“Guess we both got hit with the desire hex huh?” He teases as his skilled hands undo the button of your jeans and you assist him in taking them off as well as ripping off your underwear and throwing it on his living room floor.

The rain is lashing hard against the windows and the thunder booms as you tune out the storm and instead focus on spreading your legs for Namjoon who is hovering above you looking awestruck.

“Holy fuck you are so wet for me baby.” He coos as he dips a finger into your folds and groans when you coat his finger.

“Finger me Joon. Need to be stretched out for your cock.” You plead as he grins and slowly coats his finger in your wetness before sliding it inside of you.

“More. Another. Please.” You beg grinding down on his finger as he chuckles darkly above you and adds another finger with ease.

His other hand comes to circle your clit and you pant below him as he begins to thrust those long fingers inside of you.

“Come on baby. Cum on my fingers so I can fuck you with my cock.” He encouraged you as you shut your eyes and felt your high approaching at lightning speed.

You could feel your muscles tense and your stomach clench and when Namjoon curled his finger deep inside your body you shouted his name as your orgasm washed over you.

Your walls clamped down on his fingers as you rode out your high, clutching the couch cushions for dear life as you chanted his name over and over as you felt the waves of desire course through your body.

Namjoon slipped his fingers out once you slumped against the cushions and you opened your eyes to see him leaving the room.

You struggled to catch your breath and you wondered how the hell you woke up this morning without knowing today would be the day your best friend and not-so-secret crush would make you cum on his couch.

You owed that Witch a huge thank you.

Namjoon came back with a small bottle of lube and a condom and you watched as he ripped the packet and rolled the condom on his length. He spread an even layer of lube on his shaft and you had to admit him standing there stark naked with his cock in hand was the sexiest sight you had ever seen.

His cock was still rock hard and twitching as he circled in with his hand and gave himself a couple of tight jerks to ward off some of the need as he stared at you still sprawled on the couch.

“Wanna fuck you.” He muttered as you wordlessly nodded and laid on your back with Namjoon settling easily between your legs.

“God you are so fucking sexy. My cock is still so fucking hard for you. Can’t wait to fill you up.” He mutters in your hair as he teases your entrance with his tip making you groan and loop your legs around his torso holding him steady.

“Impatient.” He teases as you glare at him.

“You were the one who got sex cursed. I’m just impatient because I want to help you out.” You say as Namjoon lets out a small laugh and finally pushes his cock inside of you.

The stretch was delicious as Namjoon took his time inching in until he was fully sheathed and you let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck I think you needed to stretch me out more. You are huge Joonie. God damn.” You swore as you kept your legs firm against him so he couldn’t pull out.

You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you and you snickered.

“Impatient?” You teased as his brows furrowed and he slammed his eyes shut and took several shaky breaths.

“Trying not to cum.” He huffed as you giggled under him and purposely clenched your walls causing Namjoon to groan and shoot you a dirty look.

“Pussy so good you can’t hold back? What are you a teenager?” You teased as he forcefully pulled his cock out and slammed it back in causing you to cry out his name and grip his shoulders for dear life as tingles shot up and down your body.

“You are so fucking tight around my cock I am trying to be a gentleman and let you adjust but you make it so fucking hard when you clench like that. My cock has been hard for hours cut me some slack.” He whines as he stares down at you eyes darkened with lust.

“You don’t have to be a gentleman Joon. You can fuck me.” You reply as his eyes widen.

“Are you sure? You are still so tight. Pussy sucking my cock right in.” He says as you nod and begin to shift your hips slowly grinding down on his cock which you can feel twitch inside of you.

“Yes. Fuck me Joon. I’m okay.” You say as he bites his lip and fixes his position.

“I have to be honest I really don’t think I’m going to last long. I’m so fucking sorry. You just feel so good against me you are sucking me right in. Like I was made for you.” He admits as he begins to thrust inside you shallowly and you gasp when you see his cock bulging from your stomach with every thrust

Namjoon looks down and smirks as he grabs your hips and begins to rock into you harder causing the bulge to move and making you throw your head back and cry out his name as he shifts his hips in such a way it causes his cockhead to rub against your G-spot.

“M-More” You beg holding onto his broad back as Namjoon thrusts deeper and faster you cry out his name as your body is on fire and you can feel your orgasm fast approaching.

“God I can see my cock bulging inside of your stomach. That’s so fucking hot.” He says thrusting erratically causing you to thrust down to meet him halfway making you both moan in unison.

“Gonna-Fuck-Can’t last long.” He says shutting his eyes and going past the point of no return. You hold off your orgasm as much as you can as Namjoon cries out your name and his cock twitches deep inside of you coating the condom with cum as he buries his face in your shoulder and rides out his high.

You hold him steady with your legs as Namjoon empties his load into the condom and you feel his cock twitch with every spurt of cum.

Once he is done Namjoon slowly lifts his head and begins to thrust inside of you desperate for you to cum around his cock as well.

“I know it’s our first time and all but god do I wish you didn’t wear a condom. You came so much I would have loved to have it fill me.” You admit as Namjoon shakes above you and begins to thrust into you harder. His free hand comes down to play with your clit as you throw your head back and moans fall from your lips as he works you toward your high.

“You can say shit like that I’m gonna get hard again.” He growls in your ear as he swivels his hips and when his cockhead ruts against your g-spot you are done for.

Your walls clamp around his cock as you spasm around him as he coaxed you through your high muttering praises that you cannot hear over the blood pounding in your ears.

Namjoon lets you come down as he slowly pulls out of you and leaves to discard the condom.

You have died and gone to heaven. There was no way that was real and you are left a panting mess on the couch as there is a delicious ache between your legs caused by a good fuck.

He comes back and gets you cleaned up, taking his time wiping you down and making sure you are okay before you both dress and you smirk when you see his cock has finally gone soft.

“Feel better?” You ask eyes twinkling as Namjoon presses a kiss to your temple.

“Much better that was perfect.” He says smiling down at you.

“I don’t think the storm is going to let up. Want to stay the night?” He asks pulling you into his arms and kissing your cheeks as you nod.

The next day Namjoon stays true to his word and does take you out on that date. You both decide to go back to the Autumn Fest just the two of you as your first official date.

You hold Namjoon’s hand as you walk through the town taking in all the familiar vendors and some new ones that were not there yesterday.

Namjoon makes sure you buy you whatever your heart desires and he even kisses your cheeks or the back of your hand at random moments making your heart flutter.

The storm gave way to a beautiful blue sky and when you are waiting in line for a cinnamon donut you look across the grounds to notice something.

Something was missing.

You nudge Namjoon who gazes down at you affectionally.

“Joon. Wasn’t the Witch’s tent right over there?” You ask pointing to the familiar picnic tables and the empty spot where the tent should be.

Namjoon shoots you a puzzled look as you both grab your donuts and head that way.

“Maybe it was tucked further back than we thought?” He asks as you both make your way to the treeline and see no such tent there.

“Maybe she moved locations?” You ask but Namjoon shakes his head.

“We went up and down every aisle. She isn’t here.”

You shiver and settle into the picnic table as Namjoon does the same.

“You don’t think we imagined her do you?” You ask slowly fishing a warm donut from the bag and taking a bite.

“There is no way I imagined that. That’s weird though. The tent was right there I’m sure of it.” He mutters

At that precise moment deep in the woods, a Witch can be found cackling as she wipes a crystal ball clean. The image of two people finally admitting their feelings for each other and going out on an actual date fades from view.

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