Whipped K-Pop Creators Network [CLOSED]

to the you who has doubted the image that any reflective mirror has shown you. surround yourself with people who love you as you are and love yourself as you are. you don't need to change and you don't need to force yourself to change.

if you stay true to yourself, treat your body with kindness, you will be able to see yourself in a healthier light.

it's not easy and it never was. the journey to be able to fully smile at yourself when you've been drowned in doubt is hard but i will pray that day for you will come.

It stares you dead in the eyes.

The meeting of the double arrow-like lines would only appear when you put a considerable amount of yourself with the help of gravity. Then when you do, it blinks alive, calculating the shift of your body and the amount of pressure you would willingly give them. You passed the single-digit stage a long time ago, the same time that you overgrew your baby crib. As you age and mature, you watch the first number change and morph, the next number coming along as it accommodates the changes in your body.

It doesn’t help that the scale is reflective, the fear in your eyes clear and the gulp of your throat resonated deeply in your head as you thought of the amount of food that you digested along with the lack of movement that spreads the entire week.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gone shopping today.

Or maybe, you should’ve never gone clothes shopping at all.

Your mind goes back to the image reflected on the shiny surface of the changing room. It tells you that even though you have made progress, the outfit that wraps around your skin isn't as pretty as you depicted on the mannequin by the big shop window.

Hypnotised to see the truth, your other foot raises, leaving condensation on the marbled floor due to stress. But before it could form a footprint on the glass, a pair of arms lifted you, kicking the machine to the best he could given the non-slip stickers on its bottom for user safety.

“You’ve just weighed yourself ten minutes ago,” the fact whispered in your ear directly. Renjun tightens his hold around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Talk to me, bubs.”

The worried gaze falls upon you as soon as you turn your head sideways. Tears well up in your eyes when Renjun gives a half smile, eyes tender and fingers reaching to swipe the loose strands of hair that tickle your vision. 

“I just feel stuck,” you confessed, hitching rapid breaths with the way your boyfriend turns you to face him, lower body slightly bent to face you head-on. “I tried a bunch of clothes today and I feel like I'm stuck between the two sizes—it just feels like,” your eyes wander around the place, the room seemingly spinning and the tears clouding your view.

Renjun’s hands envelop your shaking ones, pulling them closer to the beating of his chest, in an attempt to ground you back to the present. His heartbeat runs through your fingertips, slowly matching his calming ones and eventually syncing when he instructs you to breathe in the cooler air through your nose and exhale the carbon dioxide through your mouth.

“Those clothes aren't good enough for you then,” Renjun’s brown orbs intently focus on your tear-stricken ones. Without another notice, he cups your cheek, his thumb giving reassuring swipes to your itchy and sticky skin from the salt water. “They don't deserve to be put on your beautiful body.”

It sends chills down your system, closing your eyes to further focus on the tapping of his pointer on the back of your palm. Renjun nods, humming to the count of his fingers on your skin, seeing how your throat stops constricting by your cries, hushing you and pressing delicate kisses on your spent eyelids.

“Don’t listen to society. Don’t look at their views. You're beautiful and I love you as you are. I promise,” Renjun’s sincerity hits your body in a warm wave and your eyes are now crying for a different reason. “Oh?” He exclaims amusedly, the hand on your cheek still holds yours to guide your now relaxed face into the broadness and safety of his chest.

Renjun sways his body, alternating his body weight between his legs. A hand is wrapped securely around your waist, the other crossing diagonally across the back of your head. The fingers on top found a home in your scalp, massaging your negative thoughts away.

“I love you too, Junnie.” 

The nickname that sounds even lovelier gives his heart life, chuckling and hugging you tighter as he lets out a prolonged squeal, commenting on how adorable you are to him.

Renjun pulls you away momentarily, swooping in for his lips to meet yours, calmly and sweetly, caring and patient. It flows through his gesture and he’s glad you know how much he loves you with the way the corners of your lips could reach your ears.

“Besides,” he starts between the medley of pecks on your face, “why are you shopping for clothes when you're always stealing mine?”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

The world faded in and out of focus slowly, everything shrouded in some sort of fog or haze, dulling all your senses.You were drifting slowly in a sea of black nothingness, a soft haziness caressing you gently like pond water gently holding and lapping at a bathing fae. In the haze, you felt safe, like nothing could hurt you. Nothing ever could. 

It washed over your aching body, blanketing you in a warmth that you wanted to stay in forever. In this fog, you were safe from everything. 

A voice drifted in and out, sailing over to you but all you managed to hear was “will” and “up”. It was vaguely familiar. A call from a past life. A past life with a face and name that you couldn’t even place. Who were you? What was this past life like? 

“I don’t know.” 

Someone else's voice buoyed over, calling to you strongly. You’d held this person in high regard in your past life. Though you couldn’t place who they were, you could smell damp earth after rain and mushrooms that swirled around you and mixed with the haze. It was an odd thing to smell and made you stir, trying to move away from the smell. It was calling to you. Beckoning you back to the previous life that had left your body in so much pain and your heart breaking. Returning to it wasn’t something you wanted and yet the smell was starting to become more aggressive with its beckoning. It was yanking at your arms and legs, pleading for you to return to this past life and leave the comfort of the fog. 

You wanted to refuse, to scream, and plead with this smell to leave you alone or To let you rest. No matter how hard you tried though, you couldn’t speak or move. You were a victim to its will.

“I don’t know how much longer the village will let us stay here.”

Seokjin.

Sen. 

The fog cleared. You were drifting along a murky, black river, its water unnaturally still. With shaking limbs, you slowly stood up, the water lapping at your ankles and the bottom of your feet. Despite you not touching the bottom of the river, your feet wouldn’t go deeper and you didn’t want them too, an unnatural fear of what lay beneath the water growing. You started walking, cautiously setting your feet down in hopes that if your next step wasn’t stable or the water decided to swallow you up again, you could step back and avoid that spot. With great care, you made it out of the river and collapsed on the river bed, covered in sweat and wheezing heavily as you tried to rest. 

You’d left the earthy smell of Sen behind in the river but Sen’s voice, his words, his lessons lingered in your mind, pulling you in a direction that you didn’t quite know. It pulled you across a field and into woods where you tumbled over branches and tripped into ditches. Though you’d walked the ground of forests many times before, the ground felt too far away from you and too foregin. The whole world felt foregin. 

Your body felt even worse than before, battered and tired from all the walking and falling, yet you had no energy to try to use your wings. The time with… the humans, Jungkook and Taehyung, had also led to you not using them as much. Something had happened to them and you couldn’t. Even now, you could barely feel your wings. 

“They’re getting nervous.”

“Of course they are. You both will need to leave as soon as she wakes up. Pack valuables you can sell. Bring it here.” 

*here*

Their voices pulled towards wherever “here” was, the forest growing darker and darker all the while. You needed to get to them. 

“We’ll be human though. How will we be able to make a living? They track births and citizenship. We won’t have that.” 

“Become hermits or something. I don’t know. You’ll figure it out. It isn’t safe here.”

Seokjin wasn’t safe? 

What was happening? 

Why wasn’t he safe? 

You surged forward, pushing into the dark forest even as it started to lose its definition. You kept pushing even as it became pitch black, even as a pinhole of light came into view. You kept walking. To Seokjin. You had to protect him. Similar to how he tried to protect you. 

The light grew like a fading vignette and along with the light came Sen’s earthy smell once again. Embracing you welcomingly as you walked into the light. 

The scent of freshly made popcorn and sweet cotton candy wafted through the air. Just seeing the bright colours of the large towers of cotton candy made San salivate.

His friends called out for him and San quickly came back to his senses. He turned to the voices of his friend and promptly bumped into a hooded figure. “I’m so sorry.” San bowed hurriedly towards the person and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Seems like fate brought you here”, you smiled and looked up at him. “Here, have this.” 

San automatically held out his hands, perplexed from your ominous statement. His eyes widened and his mouth formed the shape of a circle. San’s eyes wandered down to his open hands, watching how you placed some sort of ticket in his palms with your delicate fingers. 

While San turned the ticket around, noticing it was a gift coupon for a divination, you vanished into the crowd. When San looked back up and didn’t find you again, he turned his head from side to side, desperately searching for the hooded figure.

Once more his friends called for him, pulling him out of his train of thoughts. He hastily pushed the coupon into his pants pocket and rushed over to catch up with them. 

During the afternoon at the carnival with all its attractions and stalls San nearly forgot about the coupon. Until his friends dragged him to the haunted house. 

“We should try it out!”

San grimaced and vehemently shook his head. “Thanks, but no.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, showing an x. “I’m definitely not going in there. You guys have fun, I’ll just wait here or find something else to do.”

He watched his friends go into the haunted house, laughing and hollering over his scaredy cat nature. San waved them off with a tight lipped smile and then stuffed his hands into pockets. 

San pulled them back out once he felt the coupon and turned it once again in his fingers. Both sides showed a crystal ball seemingly glowing in front of a purple background. Your name stood inside of the glowing orb. 

San looked at the haunted house one last time, contemplating his options. Before his brain actually caught up to his decision, his body already moved through the carnival grounds.

Far at the edge of the field stood a smaller caravan. Fairy lights were strung around it, highlighting the entrance. The door was open and an intriguing scent wafted out from the inside of the caravan. 

“Hello?” San stood in front of the few steps, his gaze shifting between the coupon and the open door. He slightly leaned to one side, hoping to get a glance at the inside but a purplish veil obstructed his vision. Uncertainty washed through his system and he rubbed the back of his neck again. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Right as San turned around, ready to leave again, your sweet voice called from the inside of the caravan. San immediately halted in his movements, turning back around on his heels. “Yes! Hello?” San hesitantly climbed the first step, leaning to the side once more as he hoped, seeing at least your movements or something else.

“Come right inside”, you called out. Your smile widened when his head peeked through the curtain. “Don’t be so shy, love.” You waved him inside, offering him a seat on the large pillow pile next to you.

San’s eyes darted around the tiny room, taking everything in that he saw. Towards the back of the room was a large mattress, barely shielded from his gaze by a nearly transparent veil. To one side was a small dresser, littered with candles, cards, stones, a ouija board and lighted incense. The smoke slowly twirled upwards. San noticed how more fairy lights were strung to the ceiling over his head, while the floor was covered with dozens of pillows. Only a low, round table stood out between them. 

San finally sat down, his eyes glued to the things on the table. Besides a large crystal ball in the middle, were more cards and stones. Two cups with steaming hot tea stood there as well.

“Past, present or future.” You mused as you placed your elbows on the table and rested your chin on your hands. “What might have brought you here?” 

San blinked several times before his eyes widened. He didn't exactly think about the reason he came here. “Future?” San noticed the spark within your eyes upon hearing his answer, making him somewhat nervous.

You smiled gently, still keeping a mysterious aura around you. “Have some tea”, you offered, pointing at the cup in front of him. “But careful of the dried leaves at the bottom. I need those to read your future.” You chuckled softly when he only nodded and started sipping from his cup.

Once San finished his tea, he stared down at the bottom of the cup. The leaves clumped together in different ways but he barely made any shape or form out of them - not even thinking of the meaning they could hold.

You slightly craned your neck, trying to peek into the cup. “And? What do you think your future holds?”

San furrowed his brows in thought, twisting and turning the cup in hopes of getting some sort of clue. “I’m not sure. This could be a triangle? And this might be a plus sign or a multiplication?”

You snickered and scooted over to him, peering into the cup he held. “Oh, that’s an abundance of symbols”, you noticed with surprise. “The closer they are to the edge of the cup the sooner they’ll happen or might have happened even.” You pointed at the tea leaves towards the edge. “I can see a fan here, which means a pleasant encounter with the opposite sex.”

San stared at your profile, heat creeping up his neck and turning his ears red. The closeness and your words let all kinds of thoughts play through his mind. 

“And here I see a boat, an angel and a horseshoe. You’ll get a visit from friends and either they will tell you some lucky news or you might share something lucky with them. Oh.” You hummed in thought, looking serious at the inside of the cup.

San’s breath hitched and his heart seemingly thumped even louder than before. “What is it?” He whispered, scared his normal speaking voice would shatter the moment.

“I see a raven and a deer.”

“What do they mean?”

“A dispute, unexpected trouble. You might have a fight or an argument with one of your visitors, but -” you paused for dramatic effect - “I can also see a hammer and what you thought to be a triangle is a pyramid. Both of these symbols tell me you will overcome the problem and have peace in the end.”

San’s mouth shaped into an o as his eyes switched between your profile and the cup. He was fascinated by the things you were able to read in this. “How soon will all of this happen?”

You hummed in thought. “I’d say quite soon. All of it could start within a week.”

“Is there”, San hesitated, his urge to know more, to learn more felt almost overwhelming, “is there more you can tell me?”

“Not from the tea leaves, love. I could offer you tarot cards?” You already reached for your deck without him having answered yet. With swift motions you mixed the cards before fanning them out. “Pick five cards.”

San’s hand hovered over the cards, moving from side to side. He carefully pulled his five cards, placing them face up on the table: 8-Strength, Page of Swords, King of Cups, 18-The Moon and Knight of Pentacles.

“Hmm, I think the moon refers to the dispute with your friend. Aside from that you seem like a real catch, aren’t you?” You laughed softly when San made himself smaller and rubbed the back of his head again, shyly looking away. “You’re a curious one, prying eyes that tell the truth. It might mean you check up on someone without them knowing. You’re also confident, hard-working, patient and in good health.”

San was glued to your lips, soaking in every word you told him. 

“And lastly the king of cups tells me you will be a good father and husband, showing empathy and tolerance.”

“I’ll be a father one day?”

You chuckled softly at his wide eyes and hopeful expression. “And a good one, I’m sure of it.”

San grinned at the thought, drifting into a daydream of his future. He traced the outline of the king with his hand, when another thought crossed his mind. “What about palm reading? Can you do that too?” He looked at you, his heartbeat accelerating at the idea to get even more insight to his future.

A smirk played over your lips as you got even closer to his body and grabbed one of his hands, turning it so the palm faced upwards. “Oh, what strong hands.” You let your nails trail over some lines, tapping his skin here and there. Every time you noticed something, you explained the meaning.

San felt a pleasant shiver roll down his back when you trailed your nail from his palm down to his wrist and lower arm. Even with all the details you provided him with, he yearned for more. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind, wanted to get a special reading - a reading only he could get.

You looked up from his hands and into his face, noticing the furrowed brows he had from being deep in his thoughts. “There’s something else on your mind.”

San flinched, his eyes widening and his heartbeat quickening yet again. “I, uh.”

“You can tell me, love.” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his firm muscles underneath your palm. “I know you want something from me.”

His eyes dropped to your lips and went back up to your eyes. “Well, I, uh, is there a possibility to get a special reading? Something not everyone who enters gets?”

Ever so slowly you stood up, humming and mumbling under your breath as you walked over to the entrance door and closed it. Your hand rested on the door knob for a moment longer. “There is one thing I could offer you. Are you certain you want it though?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, I am certain!” San pressed his hands on the table and slightly pushed himself up. For a second it crossed his mind that he appeared a little too eager but it quickly vanished again.

You turned around and leaned against the door, crossing your arms in front of your chest and tilting the head to one side. “It would involve for you getting rid of your pants.”

San already grabbed his waistband before he halted his movements and looked back up at you, uncertainty shimmering in his eyes.

You cooed softly and moved back to him, swinging your hips sensually from side to side with every step. Once you reached him, you let your hand brush from his left shoulder to his right, before you plopped down next to him again. “This is all up to you. It is your choice, love.”

“I want it.”

Despite having said that, San didn’t move. Instead he stared at his hands, noticing a slight tremble to them. This was kind of crazy after all. Still, he appreciated that you patiently waited for him.

Soon enough San found enough courage and unbuckled his belt, opening his pants and pushing them slightly down.

“It truly was fate”, you whispered with a smile, upon seeing the purple stripes of his boxers. “You were supposed to come here today.” You helped him push his pants even further down, quickly followed by his boxers.

San had to force himself to stay still, wanting nothing more than to squirm underneath your gaze. He definitely wasn’t used to someone only looking at his crotch without touching it immediately. 

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, feeling his dick pulsating with desire. While his length was average, the thickness of his cock nearly made you drool. “The gods really blessed you”, you mumbled, forcing yourself to look back up at his face.

San’s dick twitched from hearing those words and the fog of desire clouding his brain momentarily lifted due to the curiosity overwhelming him. “How can you tell?”

Your gaze dropped back down to his crotch as you scoffed in amusement. “I can tell you’ll have a healthy life ahead of you.” Your thumb circled the red tip of his circumcised cock. “I can see fortune in your future as well. It may be in love or in wealth, could even be in both.”

You let go of his dick again, raising your hand with your palm facing upwards. “Spit.”

San barely even hesitated before he spit into your hand, watching how you wrapped your hand back around his shaft and pumped him a few times to spread the liquid. 

The anticipation of hearing his future from your reading added to the lust coursing through his veins. San bit down on his lower lip, his eyes nearly closing from the sensations taking over. A choked moan escaped his throat and almost belatedly a thought crossed his mind.

“Wait”, he breathed out, blinking heavily to regain some composure. “You didn’t answer my question.” His voice nearly turned into a whine when the realisation hit him. “I wanna know what made you see all this.”

You chuckled again, amused by his desperation and cuteness. “Don't worry, pretty boy. All in due time.” You placed one hand on his toned chest, getting a feel of the curves of his muscles as you pushed him to lie down. For a second you pictured riding him, ripping his shirt open and letting your hands wander all over his chiselled chest. You shook your head, ridding yourself of these thoughts. 

San stared at you with almost pleading eyes, shivering ever so slightly when you moved your hand up and down his thick shaft. 

“The girth tells me about your wealth”, you whisper as you lean down and blow some air over the tip of his cock. “Like I said, you will come into great fortune.” You hummed softly, using your thumb to press down on the small slit. “While being circumcised isn’t always a choice of your own, it’s still able to tell me a lot about the bonds you built and will build in your life.”

“What does it say?” San whimpered softly, bucking his hips into your hand. 

“Friends come and go in your life but the bond with your family is a strong one. Those, who you consider family, are incredibly close to you.” When you lifted your thumb a string of precum connected it to his dick. Without hesitation you leaned further down, replacing your thumb with your tongue. You pressed the tip into his slit, seeking the sweet taste.

San’s head dropped backwards again, the feeling of your tongue making him delirious. 

“Your sweet pre-cum predicts your future love life.” You circled your tongue around the head of his cock, savouring his low moans. “You will find your one true soulmate. You might even have found them already but the realisation hasn’t settled in yet.”

San barely registered your words, becoming completely unable to respond in any way but low whimpers when you descended on his dick. Your lips wrapped around his shaft while your tongue glided over his skin from side to side. 

You bobbed your head deliberately in a slow pace, hollowing your cheeks every now and then. 

“Please”, San begged in a low voice, his whole body shaking already, “please, don’t stop.” He wanted to thrust up into your wet cave but you quickly pushed his hips down again and removed your lips from his dick with a loud pop.

You teasingly wagged your finger, telling him no. Once you were certain he wouldn’t move his hips again, your hands glided along his sides to tease him further. You rolled out your tongue and flattened it, pressing it against the underside of his cock and trailing it along the prominent vein. As soon as your mouth reached his tip, you quickly enveloped it again, loving the weight of it on your tongue.

San’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, the pleasure overwhelming him. His lips parted and soft moans and whimpers spilled into the air. Your movements brought him to his release sooner than he anticipated.

You noticed his dick throbbing the closer he got to his release. You pulled your head away, opening your mouth and rolling your tongue out while jerking him off for the last bit.

A few moments later and hot, white cum shot into your awaiting mouth. The thick ropes quickly filled up your hole, some already spilling out at the corner of your lips. 

You swallowed his cum, licking your lips clean afterwards. “Healthy”, you whispered with a small chuckle, watching San still splayed across all your pillows.

His chest moved rapidly up and down while he came down from his high. A soft grin adorned his features, highlighting a dimple in his cheek. 

“Are you satisfied with your reading?” You leaned over him with a curious look in your eyes. You reciprocated the grin, noticing how dazed he still seemed to be. “I do hope you’ll be able to get home safely.”

San could only nod at your statement, blissed out from his orgasm. He barely realised how his body began moving again, making himself presentable, saying his goodbye and walking out of the caravan and back to his home. San honestly didn’t remember much from his way back home - not even how he opened the door to his shared apartment.

He only came to when four pairs of eyes stared at him with different degrees of worry. 

Wooyoung had noticed his spaced out state the second San came home. Both him and Yunho stopped their game mid-play and started questioning their friend but to no avail. Hence why they called for backup.

Hongjoong and Jongho came over soon after they got called, getting comfortable in the living room where the others were.

“Are we having a party I forgot about?” San asked, furrowing his brows in thought as he tried remembering. 

“More like a health check. You were totally out of it when you got home”, Wooyoung told him, tilting his head as he observed his roommate. “You didn’t react to us at all.”

San chuckled softly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” He looked down at the ground, his memories still so fresh. “I just had the best divination of my life.”

A small pout formed on his lips when the others started laughing out loud at first. Though soon enough they realised how serious San was about this and the questions came naturally.

As San retold his afternoon at the travelling carnival and the divination he received, Wooyoung and the others listened with interest.

“You can’t tell me some cards and wet tea leaves are the reason you were so out of it”, Jongho scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

Quickly the rest of the guys agreed with him, pressuring San to spill everything.

While at first reluctantly, San eventually told them from the special procedure of telling his future.

“So you basically got the best head of your life by a stranger”, Yunho grinned mischievously, amused he learned about San’s kinkiness.

“It’s not that!” San protested immediately. He tried convincing them that your predictions made sense and were true - especially once he remembered the predictions of the tea leaves.

“The fortune teller knew you would visit me today! They told me I’d be the bearer of good news!”

“Oh, hearing you got your dick wet, definitely is some good news”, Hongjoong snickered, elbowing his friend teasingly.

“You think we could get that special fortune telling as well before the carnival leaves town again?” Wooyoung thought out loud, tapping his chin in the process. “I might even wanna bring someone along to the session.” He chuckled darkly, his grin twisting with mischief.

Jongho scoffed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t tell me, you actually believe that happened.”

“Only one way to find out.”

© all rights reserved

With a frustrated groan, you try and take another step, wincing at the feeling of the mud squelching in your shoes and soaking your socks through. You’re having regrets, but you’re sure the ailing older man is having worse issues than wet socks and shoes and you power through. After a long and gruelling walk, you finally see the cream building and connected barn and you sigh in relief.

“Oh, man, you look a mess,” a voice is heard from behind you and you shriek, dropping down to the ground and clutching at your heart. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. YN, right?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. This is Aria farm?” You punctuate it with a sniff as you try to regain your dignity.

The man laughs, much more high-pitched than you expected. “Yup. I’m the farmhand, San.” He holds out his hand. “Need a hand up?”

With a shaky smile, you nod, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. His grip is strong, warm, and calloused, and you shoo away any unwanted thoughts. “Got caught in the rain?” San smiles apologetically like he was the one who brought the showers down upon you.

“Yeah, I sure did.” You return the smile with a weak one of your own. “Got dumped at the end of the road by the wagon, and not five minutes later I got poured on.”

San winces. “Oh, well, sorry that had to be your first welcome here. I’ll give that guy a talk later—he means no harm, just likes to play pranks.”

You grunt, not caring all that much about the villagers in the town, pranks or not. You have no doubt that the wagoneer meant no harm, nor that the villagers aren’t nice, but most of your days will be spent cooped up with the old farmer in his house. Plus, you decided to move away from the city to get away from people and let your introversion take over.

It takes a moment for you to realise he’s expecting you to keep up a conversation. “How is Mr Takeru doing?”

San shrugs, his eyes continuously flickering back to you. “He’s doing fairly well, all things considered. The fall left him physically incapable of a lot, but his energy hasn’t dwindled at all.” There’s a fondness in his voice. “He’s happy to hear you’ll be coming. He loves having people around and his kids barely visit. To no fault of their own, of course. They’re all on different islands, farming as well and it’s hard to get away.”

You hum. You’ve heard of their family situation, how Takeru’s kids all followed in his footsteps to become farmers, and that their children also went on to become farmers. It’s interesting, and you sometimes wonder if it’s something they all wanted. “It’ll be nice for him to have someone around,” you tell an attentive San. “It would’ve been great for him if some of his family could see him, but I’m sure he’s excited anyway.”

As you talk to San, you don’t realise how quickly the two of you walk until you are already at the house’s porch. San opens the door, stepping in, but you hesitate for just a moment. You almost turn tail if it wasn’t for the warm smile San offers.

“Don’t worry, I promise Mr Takeru is super nice. And I’ll always be happy to keep you company.” His eyes crinkle as his smile widens even further, and you can’t help but feel your face warm at how sweet he is.

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then.”

-

“Are you going to the flower festival tomorrow?” San catches you right when you go out to grab the mail.

You tilt your head as you flip through the many letters. Nothing of too much importance, just a couple of notices from the local stores. You see a letter from one of Mr Takeru’s kids and you smile at the sight of it before realising you hadn’t responded to San. “The what?”

“Flower festival,” San repeats himself, a smile growing on his face. It always seems to be there when you see the farmhand. “It’s a holiday where couples enjoy the cherry blossoms together and all.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “San, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not quite part of the couples demographic.” The farmhand’s eyes sparkle at your joke, but his gaze does not waver.

“You could go with me,” he suggests and you choke on the spot. “I’m being serious! It’s a really nice time and it’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You sigh, glancing behind you. “We’ll see. I might be busy tomorrow.”

San still smiles triumphantly at your answer. “If you do decide to come, I’ll meet you at the church grounds at seven.” And before you can even respond, he winks and walks away, making sure to flex his back muscles. If you can’t rip your eyes away, that's your own problem.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to six, you get more and more antsy. You’re still debating whether to go. One part of you wants to go so he won’t wait in vain, but the other part of you wants to avoid all sorts of contact with people. Every time you go and buy groceries for Mr Takeru, the villagers all stop to stare at you. And you know it’s partly your fault for never trying to get to know them, but you really would rather stay a hermit.

But San, he was different. Although you’ve only been here for a few weeks, San seems to have taken an interest in you. He’s always finding an excuse to talk to you, be it lunch break or asking to pass a message to Mr Takeru. You’re not quite sure what his motive is, but you’re not complaining. He’s good-looking, kind, and makes an effort to get to know you. Perhaps you should return the kindness.

When the clock strikes half past six, you know it’s the last moment before you can make your decision. After a moment’s hesitation, you call up the stairs “Mr Takeru, I’ll be going out! Do you have everything you need?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Mmh, I’ve got my cane so I’m all good. Going to the festival, I see?”

“Bye, Mr Takeru” You roll your eyes good-naturedly even if he can’t see it, grabbing your bag and practically launching yourself out the door. If you run, you’ll make it just in time.

You’re sure you look crazy, running down the streets while attempting to pull your hair away from your face to no avail, but time is of the essence. You manage to smile at the villagers who wave at you, but you’re panting hard and you think your legs might fall off as you take the church steps three at a time.

As you catch your breath, you can see San out of the corner of your eye approaching with the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face. “You came!”

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a hack from the lack of air in your lungs. San laughs, reaching over to pat you on the back as you take a moment to catch your breath. “My gosh, I am not cut out for running,” you gasp, finally straightening up and brushing your hair out of your face.

San’s hands slow as he shifts them lower to rest at the small of your back. “Well, I’m glad you made it anyway. Come sit with me and my friends. They’ll be happy to see you came.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, San sweeps you away towards the back corner of the courtyard. The two people sitting on a blanket you recognise—the farmer you buy your groceries from and the bartender who walks past Mr Takeru’s farm on the way to work in the afternoon, and neither of their names you ever got.

“Guys, this is YN,” San introduces you and you give a little wave as they chorus your name with ‘hi’s. “This is Wooyoung, and that’s Yunho.” He points to the bartender and the farmer respectively.

“Good to finally get your name,” Yunho smiles at you, a bright smile lighting up his face. “You’ve been shopping with me for what, two weeks now?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, just about.” You silently beg for the topic to change because San is sensitive about how you buy groceries elsewhere since a storm destroyed most of the farm’s crops. “What does one do at the flower festival?”

Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance between each other, their eyes soft. “Generally couples sit together and watch the flowers fall and talk about each other. At the end, you pick up a blossom and blow it after making a wish,” Yunho explains, the corner of his lips pulling up as Wooyoung leans into his body. “I’m here with Wooyoung.”

He immediately realises this is not the best thing to say as your face heats up and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. “You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to go, of course!” San immediately rectifies, his hands shooting out to smack Yunho in the shoulder. “I always go with friends.”

A smile pulls at your lips even though you’re still a little awkward at the revelation. “Well, thank you for inviting me anyway,” you bow slightly. “It’s nice to get a little scenery difference.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you away from the farm since you arrived, barring your visits to Marimba and Horn Ranches.” You duck your head shyly and San swoops to your rescue.

“Not that you’re any better, Wooyoung. All you do is work and go home to sleep,” San teases. “Except when Yunho makes you go outside, of course.”

Both Wooyoung and Yunho immediately blush red and you laugh at the sight. “You two are cute together though,” you compliment. “Hopefully one day I can have a relationship like yours.” You miss the soft gaze sent your way by San, but neither Wooyoung nor Yunho do and they exchange a look before smiling back at you.

“I’m sure you will one day.”

-

It’s pouring buckets out there and even San has taken the day off. There’s nothing to do on the farm other than feed the animals, and the day before San had put extra food in their buckets for that occasion exactly. Mr Takeru is fast asleep and all you’re doing is sitting in the living room and trying to focus on reading. But it’s not coming to you.

With a sigh, you put your book back down and move to stand near the window, staring at the bleary landscape. That’s when you see it. A little glimmer of light right by the bending tomato plants. You narrow your eyes, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then it happens again. Now you’re sure something is out there, and against your better judgement, you’re going to find out what it is.

With another glance towards Mr Takeru, who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, you pull on a raincoat and open the front door. The wind almost slams it shut but you catch it just in time, slipping out of the house and closing it gently instead.

The wind is practically bullying you as you make your way slowly over to the garden. When you finally reach the plants, you squint but can’t seem to find anything, but you swear you saw something. Your eyes dart around to see if you can find it again, and another sparkle catches your eye further down the road.

You cast a glance back at the house, inner debate raging in you. But at heart, you’re forever a toddler and you go chase after the pretty lights.

The farther you go, the more you’re starting to regret your choices. But you’re too far to find your way back—although you’ve been here for almost a month now, you’re not all that well-versed in where things are around this island. Yet another point into why you should’ve just stayed at the farm.

With a groan, you take another step closer, making your way through a tunnel of trees. The rain only seems to get heavier but you can still see the faint sparkling but not much around it and you step closer.

Suddenly, the rain melts away to reveal a little grove and a giant tree standing tall and proud. The only thing that tells you were just in the rain is the fact that you’re soaking wet. You blink, step back, and the rain falls around you again. Another step forward, and the sun is shining again.

You rub your eyes, sure you must be going crazy. But the sunny area is still in front of your eyes. As much as your brain is screaming at you to turn back and make your way home, your curiosity gets the better of you. You take a few steps closer, marvelling at the old spring on either side of the stone pathway you’re on.

You’ve heard of the stories of the fae and magic surrounding this island, mostly from Mr Takeru himself, but you always chalked it up to him being old, as much as you thought it would be nice for it to be real. And here you are, standing in the middle of what can only be called magic surrounding you.

The area looks almost unoccupied, with more of the sparkles that drew you out of the house in the first place flitting around. You take a couple of steps closer when someone steps out from behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” You don’t recognise the figure standing in front of you, with perfectly coiffed hair and a frown upon his pouting lips.

You blink at him. “Uh, I was taking a walk and ended up here. What is this place?”

The blonde man blinks at you. “You don’t know? It’s the Goddess Spring, home of the tree that powers our island. Though…I guess you are new here.”

You frown, cocking your head. “Sorry if I seem rude, but I don’t think I’ve met you. Who are you?”

The stranger’s piercing blue eyes widen and he laughs, waving his hands. “Oh my, I can’t believe I forgot my manners. I’m Park Seonghwa, son of the mayor of this little island. My father speaks highly of you and how well you care for Mr Takeru.”

His hand is firm and warm although his palms are softer than San’s. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him warmly. “Your father speaks proudly of you as well.”

You can’t believe you haven’t made the connection. Seonghwa isn’t the spitting image of his father per se, but they look similar enough to each other, especially in their eyes. Mayor Gil and Seonghwa both have the same stare.

The young man smiles again, shaking his head. “My father can be passionate. Now that he’s older, he tells me he has less grievances against the world. But I am curious—what are you doing here? It’s still pouring out there.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I was just following some…uh…sparkles.”

“Sparkles? Nothing else?” Seonghwa’s facial expression shifts to one of curiosity. Your eyebrows furrow at his intensity and his features soften as he chuckles. “Ah, I don’t mean to alarm you. This island has a rich history behind this little grove. Are you busy?”

You shrug, glancing behind you. “No, not really. I’m not really in the mood to walk all the way back to the farm in the rain. I’m a big history fan anyway.”

Seonghwa shrugs, gesturing to the stone bench up further on the stone pathway. “Come and sit then. The story starts with this tree.”

To be honest, you don’t understand much of what Seonghwa explains. Something about bells and trees powering the island, and how only the line of mayors and Mr Takeru’s family can see the magic. But Seonghwa seems so passionate about it, and you have no reason to disbelieve it, not when you’ve witnessed the grove itself, so you just smile and nod and do your best to comprehend.

Seonghwa is finishing up his story of how Mr Takeru single-handedly revived the island when he takes a glance at his watch and gasps. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure the rain has stopped, you should make your way back to the farm before it gets dark.”

Your brows furrow, glancing up to see the sun getting close to the west. “Oh, crap,” you gasp, “I need to start dinner. Do…do you happen to know the way back to the farm? I didn’t quite see how I got here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Yes, you can just take a left out here and follow the path down the mountain. It should lead you to the pond right by Aria Farm. I’ll see you around town, then.”

You nod, promising him to try and find time to visit him in town before booking your way out of the grove. He was right, the rain had slowed to a drizzle that hardly bothered you. You’re making your way down the mountain, rushing so much you can hardly enjoy the view you missed on your way up.

As soon as the blue roof of the farmhouse comes into vision, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiar sight. Your little adventure was fun but now it’s time to go back. As you unlock the door and swing it open, your vision is immediately blocked by a firm, warm chest and strong arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “YN, where were you?”

San’s worried voice reaches your ears and your initial shock wears off as you tilt your head back to look at him. “I went on a walk and found some grove near the mountains,” you explain honestly, and San’s eyebrows raise into his bangs.

“A walk? YN, are you insane? I came around to make sure you both were okay and Mr Takeru told me he didn’t know where you had gone. It was a crazy storm out there too. You have to be careful, YN. I– you could’ve gotten hurt.”

San’s arms tighten around your shoulders and your face heats up as you pat his back awkwardly. “Well, I agree it was pretty stupid of me, but I’m fine and here! I won’t do it again, I promise,” you try and cheer him up while also doing your best to wriggle out of his grip. It’s embarrassing for you to be so close, you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your ears. He’s too hot for you to be this close to and you need some space before you combust.

You finally manage to untangle yourself, offering a smile to ease the distance between the two. “How long were you waiting for me, anyway?”

San sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “Maybe just about three hours? I think I was about ten minutes away from going out to look for you myself. I mean, the rain only stopped an hour ago, it’s understandable I was worried.”

He’s trying to convince himself more so than you, but you can’t really blame him. You would’ve been the same way in his shoes. You try not to think about what would happen if he had suddenly disappeared in the rain. “No, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you shake your head, glancing away in guilt. “I just thought something was out there and went on a wild goose chase. Turns out it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But in the grove I went to, I finally met the mayor’s son.”

San’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “Seonghwa? He’s nice, I’m glad you’ve met him.” He finally smiles back, softly, but shakes his head as if remembering where he is. “Er, I suppose I should let you go have dinner now. You must be hungry.”

He slips out of the door before you can even respond, the thought of inviting him for dinner only popping into your head as he’s already halfway down to the river, his form glowing gold in the sunset. You poke your head out to call for him, but your nerves get the better of you and you just watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You should go for it.” A hoarse voice interrupts your swirling thoughts and you turn back to see Mr Takeru leaning on his cane and smiling kindly at you. “You’re young, and pretty. Anyone can see clear as day that San likes you. You know, he was quite worried when you were out.”

You swear there is steam radiating off of your face. “Ah, Mr Takeru, don’t get my hopes up,” you laugh. “There’s no way San sees me as much more than a friend. Now, let’s get dinner started, no?”

Mr Takeru just sighs, a melancholy smile on his face. “You should run right after him before it’s too late, you know. But yes, let’s have dinner YN.”

-

You stand in front of the door of the mayor’s house, debating whether to walk in or not. When you received an invitation for lunch from Seonghwa earlier this morning, he had assured you that you could walk right in without knocking, but you felt a little too awkward to do that.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp voice startles you and you jump, looking over your shoulder guiltily. A silver-haired man with sharp eyes and thick robes gazes at you with an uninterested expression on his face.

“Ah– Seonghwa invited me for lunch here,” you explain, glancing back at the door.

Before you can say anything, the strange, eccentric man brushes past you, the many bracelets and necklaces he has on jingling. “Well, then. He’s up to one of his schemes to get me to socialise again. He invited me for lunch too. Come on in.”

He swings the door open, stepping inside the house and you stare at him with wide eyes before scurrying after him. The outside of the house is filled with flowers lining the stepping stones, but the inside of the house is more mature in decor, with dark oak tables and brown wallpaper. The stranger glances at you, having noticed your eyes wandering the decor and he laughs shortly. “Quite the juxtaposition of interior and exterior, no? Mayor Gil’s late mother had designed the inside and so the mayor hasn’t had the heart to change it.”

You’re about to respond when one of the doors to your right slams open, revealing Seonghwa standing there with messy hair and a sullen look on his face. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cancel lunch. My father has fallen ill with cow fever. YN, I’m so sorry to have to turn you away but I don’t want you to catch it, or Mr Takeru for that matter.” He heaves a sigh, then turns to the stranger. “Hongjoong, could you do me a favour and bring me some medicine?”

The man—Hongjoong—nods sharply and spins on his heel, striding out the door without a moment’s hesitation. You falter just a moment, shooting Seonghwa a quick smile and ‘hope your father feels better soon’ before following Hongjoong’s steps out the door.

On your way home, you can’t help but wonder…what on earth is cow fever? You’ve never heard of such a thing. You’re too lost in thought you almost don’t see San waving at you from afar. “Ah, hey San!” you greet him with a quick wave and a smile. “Did you have lunch yet?”

A shrug is your answer and you laugh at San’s nonchalance. “Nah, I was just about to head out for some, though. How was your lunch?”

You shake your head. “It had to be cancelled. Mayor Gil came down with the cow fever, so we decided to reschedule.”

A pout forms on San’s face. “Well, I hope he gets better. Cow fever is no joke. But hey, since you didn’t have lunch, would you like to join me?”

Although it would mean you’d have to walk back to town, you can’t say ‘no’ to the smile on San’s face. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” you grin. “Inn? Do you want to get sandwiches and eat on the dock?”

The smile on San’s face widens. “It’s almost like you’re reading my mind. Let’s eat on the dock.”

Without another word, he hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the barn. “Ah– San, the town is the other way, you know.”

San laughs again, loud and bright. “Yeah, I know. We’ll take Emma.”

It takes a moment to register. “The cow? San, are you crazy?” you gasp, but there’s still a giggle present in your tone. “First, we have a horse. Second, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less a cow!”

“That doesn’t matter,” San grins impossibly wider, his dimples deep. “Emma’s sweet, she’s an easier ride than Princess. Plus, I want Princess to have some more bonding time with her foal. Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

You groan good-naturedly but can’t keep the smile off your face as the two of you approach the well-mannered cow. “Fine,” you agree. “How do I get on?”

Instead of answering your question like a normal human being, San places his hands on your waist. For a moment, you’re lost in his firm grip, but it doesn’t last long as he lifts you and places you on Emma’s back, a shriek emitting from your mouth. “San!” you laugh, looking down to see San’s eyes crinkling as he chuckles and pats your thigh. “Warn me next time!”

“So there’ll be a next time?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” you scold lightly, turning away so he won’t see your flushing cheeks. “Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You can hear San laugh to himself one more time before hopping up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately, your mind is taken back to that rainy day almost a month ago when he hugged you and your cheeks burn even more. “Hold on tight,” San hums, leaning forward till his lips are right by your ear.

And once again, he doesn’t give you time to mentally prepare before Emma runs down the path towards the town. You’re terrified, hands gripping so tightly on San’s that you’re sure your nails will leave indents. But somehow, you’re enjoying yourself taking a wild ride on a cow of all things. Maybe it helps that San’s body is pressed against yours and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You’re practically in a daze when you reach the town, San lifting you off Emma much more gently than when he put you on her. “You good?” he asks, and you snort, shaking your head fondly.

“God, I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you made me do that. But yes, I’m good. More than good, even. That was fun.” You chuckle mostly to yourself, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

It’s your turn to grab San’s warm hand and pull him in the direction of the inn, the little bell tinkling as you step inside. Mai smiles at the two of you, waving you both over to her station. “Hello, you two. Looking for some lunch this fine morning?”

“Yep,” San leans on the counter with his elbow, ignoring the glare the head chef, Chihaya, sends him. Mai hides her smile extremely badly. “Could I get the tuna sandwich? And whatever YN’s getting.”

Your head snaps towards him. “Oh, no, no, San, don’t worry about it. I can pay for my own,” you decline as quickly as you can, but he raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s my treat, YN. Don’t fight me on this, I’ll win. I invited you out, so it’s only right I pay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “But–”

“No buts, okay? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of paying for the both of us. Let me do this, YN. Just order, okay?” San holds up a hand, and you know he’s won.

With a sigh, you concede. “Fine. But next time, I’ll pay, and no buts.” San raises his hands in defeat. Satisfied, you turn back to Mai. “Could I get an egg sandwich?”

Mai chuckles, writing down your order in her little notebook. “It’s cute to see you two together. Poor San has been lonely for a long time.”

“We’re not dating,” you quickly correct her, face heating up in embarrassment.

“And I’m not lonely!” San interjects, pout on his face, and his cuteness in that moment makes you forget how awkward you were about Mai’s statement.

“Okay,” Mai chirps, clearly disbelieving the two of you, but before you can refute any longer, Chihaya stalks over, handing the two of you nicely wrapped sandwiches.

“Mai, stop bothering them. You two, go eat. See you later,” he shuts down the conversation, waving the two of you away.

Both San and you exchange a look before quickly leaving the inn, Mai’s sweet giggles trailing behind the two of you until the door shuts behind you. “Well then. Dock?”

You snort, nodding. “Dock.”

You skip your way through town to the dock, empty aside from the local fisherman about to head inside for his own lunch break. The wind isn’t too harsh today, something you appreciate so that the sea’s waves don’t get close to your feet. Neither you nor San feel the need to talk as you work through your lunches, the food delicious enough to keep your mouths occupied.

You finish your sandwich much earlier than San, leaning back on your arms as you sneak a peek at his side profile while he continues to eat, unaware. Something about his focused gaze on his sandwich seems to draw your gaze. As you wait, you can’t help but think back to Mai’s words, unable to keep your mind from daydreaming about Choi San.

Ever since that fateful day in the rain, the hug he had given you keeps popping up in your mind at the most inopportune times…like right now. You can already feel heat rising to your face once again and you quickly focus your eyes on the horizon to do your best to rid yourself of such thoughts.

You can’t afford to like San, not like that. Not when you have no idea what you’re going to do after this job, or even where you’ll go. This little island feels more like home than the big city did, but you don’t know where your life could fit in here. Not when it feels like everyone already has their place in the town.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink yourself back to reality, where San has finished his sandwich and is looking at you with such a fond look in his eyes. “You look lost in your head.”

You shrug, bringing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know…” you murmur, a melancholy smile playing on your lips. “Just the future, I guess. What I’ll do later.”

San hums, his hand coming to rest close to your own, and you push back thoughts of grasping his worn, warm palm. “I get it. Before I started working for Mr Takeru, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do either. I bounced from ranch to ranch, even started over at Marimba Farm for a time until Mr Takeru offered me a job.”

“Is that where you met Yunho?”

At your question, San chuckles. “Yeah. He hired me at Marimba when it was first starting out, then recommended me to Mr Takeru after he was able to manage it with the help of Wooyoung. Yunho is one of my oldest friends here.”

“It must be nice to have that close of a friend,” you state, more to yourself than anything, but San hears you anyway, his brows furrowing with light concern. “Say…who’s Hongjoong? I met him briefly at Seonghwa’s before I had to go home. I’ve never seen him around before.”

San hums, tilting his head so he can look into your eyes more clearly. You fight to keep the blush of your cheeks. “Hongjoong runs the clinic, and does fortune telling on the side. He’s descended from a long line of wizards, and his paternal family has run the clinic for a very long time. Why?”

You shrug. “I heard something about him getting medicine for Mayor Gil. Thought it might be interesting to talk to him about the island’s medical practices. Since I’m a nurse and all.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little curious too. He dresses nothing like the other islanders.”

San chuckles alongside you. “His robes are the traditional wear for the wizards of this island. He does quite enjoy talking about the history behind them, so you should ask him about it some time. Any other trivia I can answer for you?”

His tone is light, teasing, and you snort and shove at his shoulder. “Shut up, can’t a girl be curious? I get it, you don’t like me.”

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from true.” San shakes his head, and you freeze, aware of what he’s implying.

“San–” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m–”

“You don’t have to say anything,” San laughs, leaning in to tap his forehead against yours. “Not right now, at least. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now come on, let’s get back to the farm.”

Before you can blink, he’s already on his feet and holding out a hand to help you stand. After a moment's hesitation, you reach out as well, placing your hand in his. As he pulls you up, he leans forward to press his lips against the side of your head and you duck your head, heat rushing to your face.

The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Instead of riding Emma back, San lets her amble along the path on her own. You walk side by side, fingertips not quite brushing, stealing glances at each other and soft smiles. Maybe it's because he finally put words to what the two of you have, but you can’t help but wonder exactly why both of you are suddenly so open with how much you care for each other.

As he walks you to the front door of the farmhouse, he clears his throat, obviously wanting to say something. You turn to him expectantly, taking note of the nervousness in his eyes. “YN…” he mumbles, a far cry from the confident man he was on the dock. “No matter how you end up feeling, please don’t leave the island because of it. Everyone here likes you, even though you don’t really know them well. And Mr Takeru is terribly fond of you. Don’t let me influence your life too much, okay?”

You sigh, body visibly relaxing. “Of course not, San. I’ve grown to love it here. I don’t think even you can keep me away.”

San chuckles at your feeble attempt at a joke, out of pity, you think. “Okay, okay. Have a good day, YN.”

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself subconsciously. “Miss YN, is that you?” Mr Takeru calls out, and you shake your head, willing your brain to clear up before quickly making your way to your employer.

“I’m here, Mr Takeru!”

-

You awkwardly stand at the bar, waiting for Wooyoung to finish up with a customer. The bar is the last place you would usually be, but you’re at a loss. San’s words have been replaying in your head since that fateful day on the dock, and you haven't spoken to him since. Not that he’s bothered by it. True to his word, San had been giving you space, only exchanging soft, sweet, ‘good morning’s and gentle smiles.

As each day passed, you knew what your answer would be, but then a letter arrived today from your agency back home. A reminder your contract was almost up. You knew you had to make a decision, fast.

“All right, what’s going on in your head, missy?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks you out of your swirling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to be sick, and I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor’s.”

You open your mouth, close it again, and then reopen. “Wooyoung, do you know if the clinic has any job openings?”

Wooyoung furrows his brow, frowning. “Well, you’ve picked the worst person to ask this question to. I’ve never gone to the clinic before, and Hongjoong never comes in here. But they might. Hongjoong’s grandfather recently retired, so as Mr Van takes his role, there might be a job opening soon. I think Mao was thinking about volunteering there, though. You’d have to talk to Hongjoong about it. Why?”

You hesitate, eyes moving from side to side. No one is close enough to hear you over the music. “Did San talk to you at all in the past week?”

Understanding dawns in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Ah. He told us what happened, but let me hear what you think of it. All our regulars are here already so I won't have to make any more drinks for a while.”

A sigh makes its way out of your throat. “My contract with Mr Takeru is ending soon. The easy answer is to renew, but what about after that? I don’t know where I could work, other than the hospital, and if Mao wants to work there, I don’t want to take that opportunity away from him.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I said he would volunteer, not work. He’s the fisherman’s son, the sea is in his blood. But even if you don’t work at the clinic, San would probably be happy to support you until you find something.”

You shake your head tiredly. “But I don’t want him to. He already works so hard, and I don’t want to make him feel obligated to help me, not when I’m capable of supporting myself and it’s just me overthinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Wooyoung dissolves into laughter. “YN, he would be helping you because he wants to. Hell, any of us would be willing to help you. Yunho could use someone to help him on his own farm, I’m sure Seonghwa would like to have a secretary, hell, I could use you as a server. You’re worrying too much about it. Things will work out if you want them to.”

You wince. “I know, I know. I just worry, you know.”

“Well, don’t,” Wooyoung teases. “Just talk to San. He’ll understand.”

“As always, your advice is impeccable,” you smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Wooyoung winks, sliding a glass over. “Have a drink before you go, okay? I’m not getting paid to gossip, you know.”

You squint at him. “Don’t you own this bar?” All Wooyoung does is smile knowingly and nod towards the cup of…something. You take a tentative sip, and then another, and then it hits. The sweet but tangy flavour with a hint of bitterness from the alcohol. “Oh, this is good! What is it?”

“Raspberry cocktail,” he answers, way too proud of his creation. “I perfected the recipe today, as well as a few others. You should try those ones too.”

You laugh, downing the rest of your drink. “Sure, sure, go ahead. I’m almost never here anyway.”

Wooyoung practically vibrates in excitement, moving around the kitchen in a dash to prepare your next drink. You’re on your third drink and too busy laughing at Wooyoung’s antics to notice the presence behind you. When Wooyoung slides you your next drink, you ask, “Which one is this?”

“This one is your last drink,” a firm voice speaks up and you snap your head around, startled, to come face to face with San. “You still have work tomorrow, YN, you can't get too drunk.”

“Hey, Sanah,” you beam up at him, unbothered by his close proximity. You blame it on the alcohol. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “All good, I hope. Come on, finish your drink and let’s get you home.”

Without much further prompting, you down the rest of your drink and wave at Wooyoung, who is watching the two of you with an amused expression plastered on his face. “Bye, now,” he sing-songs, “get home safe.”

San rolls his eyes good naturedly, nodding at Wooyoung and sliding some money over to pay for your few drinks. “Have a good night, Youngah.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you stand and pulling you out of the inn. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You hum, turning your head to press your face into his shoulder. “I dunno,” you mumble into him, breathing in the smell of his soap. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I end up out of a job. You’re too perfect, I can’t drag you down.” You don’t mean to say all this, but the alcohol is still coursing through your system and the courage still sits in your stomach.

San intakes a sharp breath. “What do you mean by that?”

You shrug. “You have a job, a life here. I’m here temporarily. When my contract ends next month, what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to go back to the city and leave you here, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do here.”

San sighs, letting his head sit atop yours, his cheek pressed against your hair. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I wouldn’t mind if you went back to the city if you visited. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me until you get back on your feet if you decide to end your contract. Hell, I’m sure Mr Takeru would be happy to employ you on his own dime, or someone else in town would take you on. But I’m glad you came to me, okay? I want to help you.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, and you curse yourself for drinking so much that it makes you too emotional for your liking. “Okay,” you concede with a soft voice. “Thank you, San.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course, YN,” he smiles, and although you can’t see it, you hear it in his voice. “Now let’s talk later, okay? You need to go to bed.”

“Later sounds good,” you sigh, letting your body weight lean even more against San’s broad shoulders. “See you later.”

“Not right now,” San chuckles. “We’re almost home, come on. As much as it’s safe on the island, it’s chilly tonight, and I think you’d probably prefer sleeping in a bed.”

“Hmm, bed,” you repeat, yawning. “I like the idea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The rest of the night is mostly calm, save for San convincing you to go to the bathroom to change, and not undressing in front of him. As he helps you brush your hair as you sit on your bed, you can’t help but to reach up and put your hands on his waist.

“You know, I really like you,” you mumble. The alcohol has almost faded, but the tiredness has hit and you’re just as loopy as if you were still drunk. “I hope you know that.”

San chuckles, his hands slowing to a stop in your hair. “I do, YN. I do.” He leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but not until you grab his wrist. “Wait! What about here?” you pout, pointing to your lips, and San arches an eyebrow, a smile toying at the corners of his lips and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you ask me, okay? Good night, YN.” And with that, he leaves you to sleep, a smile plastered onto your face as you dream of his touch.

When you reawaken, you feel fully rested, yawning as you slip out of bed quickly and easily. A quick glance at your clock tells you it’s almost noon and you curse yourself for drinking so heavily. You’re never letting Wooyoung talk you into such a thing again.

As you make your way out of your room, you find Mr Takeru sitting on the couch. “Miss YN, come sit with me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

You pause, heart freezing. “Ah– sure, Mr Takeru. Nothing bad, I hope.”

The older man chuckles, waving his hand. “Of course not. This is something both Wooyoung and San have come to me about.”

You blink. “Ah.” You’re going to kill Wooyoung, and think about killing San (You’re too attached to him to follow though).

Mr Takeru laughs again. “I said it wasn’t bad, child, don’t look like you’re about to faint, please. San had expressed his affection for you to me, and Wooyoung has talked about how, in his words, ‘both of them are dumb as rocks and won’t date yet’. I’m quite aware that your contract with me is ending soon.” He pauses to take in a breath. “I would like to offer you a job with me off contract. That means you won’t be with your agency anymore.”

You blink at him. “I…I’m sorry, it’s a lovely offer, and I’m quite inclined to take it, but can I ask why? I mean, it would be cheaper for you to hire from the agency, and I’m sure I could figure something else out.”

“Miss YN, I’m sure you’re well aware I am not in much need of money. San runs the farm beautifully, and even though he is paid generously, the earnings far exceed what I need. And, as I have talked to Mayor Gil, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the clinic is happy to contract you so that in the case that I no longer require your services, you may work with them.”

You blink at him, your lower lip quivering. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, and Mr Takeru waits patiently. “The offer is so generous, and I would be a fool to decline it. I really do appreciate it, Mr Takeru.”

Your boss smiles. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Think of it as a favour to San as well. He’s worked for me for so long, he’s like one of my own grandchildren.” He pauses, letting out a yawn. “Now, go find him and tell him the good news, okay? I’d like to take a long nap.”

With a moment to compose yourself, you stand from the couch. “Thank you again, Mr Takeru,” you repeat sincerely. “I’ll prep lunch and put it in the fridge for when you wake up, okay?”

He waves you away, already getting ready to lay down on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Mayor Gil is coming around to have lunch with me, and he’ll bring me something from the inn.” With another yawn, you know your conversation is over, and you spin on your heel and race out of the house, only one thing on your mind.

“San, are you in here?” you call out as you reach the ajar barn doors. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right down, just filling up the dispenser.” You can hear San’s voice from the loft and you look up, squinting through the sunrays filtering through the holes in the roof. The carpenters have been working on fixing that before the next rain.

Your gaze is drawn away by San climbing down the ladder, an extra bale of hay perched on his shoulders. As he turns around and you catch a glimpse of his face, your breath catches in your throat.

There wasn't ever a time where you thought sweat and grime on a person could be attractive…at least until right at this very moment. Sweat is glistening on his face, dripping off his cheekbones and chin, and all you can think about is swiping your tongue over his lips to taste it. The sight of it only serves to remind you of your drunken request to San, and his one condition that you ask him about it the next day.

“YN? Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Can I get my kiss now?”

That was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it’s too late to rectify it, so you’re left looking up at a dumbfounded San. The silence goes on for just a tad too long and you’re too embarrassed to face him now, so you turn on your heel and start to exit the barn, hopefully to drown your sorrows and yourself in the hot spring.

Before you can even step foot onto the threshold, however, San grabs your arm and gently tugs you into his warm chest. “Now wait just a moment,” he hums, chest vibrating against your back. His smell fills your mind and you tilt your gaze up to see him looking right back at you with such warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t give you your kiss yet.”

“Oh–” is all you manage to squeak out before San’s lips are on yours and you immediately melt into the kiss. His arm pulls you even closer against his body, his lips soft and inviting. “San–”

He doesn’t give you a moment to speak, his mouth capturing every sound escaping past your lips. You can feel every breath against your lips, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. Slowly, you part your lips for him and he wastes no time to map out your mouth, taking the air out of your lungs at how desperately he kisses.

As you fall deeper into his embrace, your arms come to loop around his waist, resting by his hips as your hands grip onto his shirt. His own hands roam up and down your sides, gripping at your waist and keeping you pulled against him. One of them finds its way to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that rivals the roughness of his mouth.

You could stay here like this for hours, but your lungs disagree, and after they scream at you for some air, you finally pull away, gasping softly as you lean your forehead against San’s. “San,” you call his name again, although this time your words aren’t interrupted by his lips but your lack of air. You take in one more breath, San waiting patiently as he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky yourself. “San, I like you. And I’m sure I’m just stating the obvious, but again, I do. I want to stay here with you, and just this morning Mr Takeru has offered me a personal contract with him. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

San laughs, his hand on your waist moving up to stroke your cheek. “I know, YN. I asked Mr Takeru to make you the offer. Or, to be more precise, I implied that he should make you the offer, and I did that because Wooyoung implied to me to do that.” He tilts his head to press a short and sweet kiss to your lips again, chuckling to himself at how you follow his lips when he pulls back.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, nodding as you lean up on your tiptoes to try and steal another kiss. “Nothing will ever be kept secret with his big mouth. Can we go back to kissing now? It’s easier.”

You can practically see the eagerness shine to San’s eyes. Instead of an answer, he tilts his head down to meet your waiting lips. This time, though, your makeout session is sadly cut short.

“So you two are finally together?”

You’re not too embarrassed to admit you shrieked, jumping out of your skin and burying your face in San’s chest. You can hear both San and Seonghwa chuckle, San’s arm tightening around your body. “Thanks to you, Seonghwa,” San hums. “We both really appreciate your role in this.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. And as surly as Hongjoong can be, he’s happy to have someone else on board. But I’ll let you two get back to…talking. I was just passing through to have lunch with the jeweller. Have a good day, you two.” With a wave that you see out of the corner of your eye, Seonghwa leaves.

“I’m never going back to the town hall again,” you mumble against San’s shirt. “I can’t face Seonghwa again.”

San rubs your back with a comforting hand, although you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I’m sure he understands, YN. Plus, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t walk in on a more intimate moment.”

Your head snaps up, heat blooming in your cheeks as you slap his shoulder. “San! We’re in the barn!”

A smirk is the only warning you get before San wraps both his arms around you and hoists you into the air, ignoring your squeal. “My house is just across the creek, you know. We don’t have to be in the barn.” You swear he can see how flustered you are just by your expression, and it only seems to egg him on. His one hand moves down to hold you up by your thighs, and you don’t think your face could get any hotter. “Shall we celebrate?”

“San–” you start to decline, but then you pause, casting a glance over your shoulder. Seeonghwa is long gone, and you’re sure Mr Takeru and the Mayor will be talking for a good few hours. “...All right. But put me down!”

Laughing, San happily sets you on your feet, leaning in to press his lips against yours again. “I really am glad you decided to stay, YN. Thank you for choosing me.”

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely. 

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings. 

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit. 

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin’s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him. 

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how -  I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on. 

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?” 

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore. 

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home. 

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside. 

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day. 

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance. 

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!” 

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you forgot. you’ve forgotten the most important day of the year and you are currently kicking yourself for it. it’s felix’s birthday, the one day of the year that you look forward to every single year – but for some unknown reason, this year you forgot.

maybe it’s because you’ve both been really busy that you haven’t given it a second thought. you’re always well prepared for things like this, but this year it slipped your mind.

you knew you forgotten something but you couldn't tell what. you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind but you pushed it to the side. “i’ll figure it out later” you always told yourself only to forget – once again.

it wasn't until the day before, did you looked at your calendar and see ‘15th sept’ circled and decorated in hearts, labelled ‘felix’s bday!!’ did you panic. that nagging feeling quickly turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. worry and panic washing over you and coating your skin in a cold sweat.

it was way into the night to go to the store to pick something up. everything was closed. you thought about making him something but realised that you don't have the materials to do so. so a quick search on the web was your last resort. you hoped you could find something that would do next day delivery but alas, after several hours of searching and drawing up blanks, did you accept your fate.

you woke up the day of his birthday, feeling guilty and it's eating you alive. you don't think you'd be able to face to him without bursting into tears.

“i should at least wish him a happy birthday.” you mumble. you take your phone from the night stand and open up felix's contact. your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

you hesitate. lips pursed together. you overthink. you can hear his sullen tone of voice. you can see his facial expressions twisted into sadness. your heart aches and feels tight, like someone is gripping onto it.

“fuck. i can't.” you throw your phone onto the bed beside you, watching it bounce from impact before rubbing your face with your hands and groaning. “maybe a shower will help me. i’ll call him then!” 

you didn't call him. in fact, you spent the whole day avoiding him. you did pop to the store and buy a small box of cupcakes and some candles. you had this idea of surprising him by turning up at his place with a fancy birthday cake, thinking it's better than nothing,  but when the store only had cupcakes to offer, that idea was quick to fizzle out.

the cakes are now sitting on the counter, untouched and unopened. you're in your lounge wear on the sofa, TV on but you're not tuned into whatever show it's playing. instead, you're on your social media, looking at what felix has been up to the whole day.

pictures of felix with chan, jisung and hyunjin. birthday wishes from friends and family flood his profiles. you're glad he's had a good day but that guilt just won't go away. 

you've shamelessly avoided him the whole day because you couldn't face him. it's cowardly of you and you know it, but in a way, you just shut off.

you rush to your feet. your sock covered soles slapping against the floor as you rush to the door. you open it and come face to face with a not so pleased looking felix.

'“i see you're still alive.” you swallow. he sounds irritated. he's angry at you and you don't blame him.

“felix, i–”

“are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand out in the hallway?” he cuts you off. you look down at your feet and shuffle to the side, opening the door wider for him.

he walks in, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat as you close the door behind him. he notices the unopened cupcakes and pack of birthday candles by the side of them.

“so?” he starts as he looks at you. your chin is tucked into your chest, fingers fiddling with one another. you feel like a child about to be told off by a parent.

“i'm so sorry, felix.” you start, keeping your eyes glued to your feet. you don't want to make eye contact with him because the guilt of forgetting is eating you alive. it's making you feel incredibly nauseous.

“for?” his arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at you, brow raised. his authoritative and dominant aura seeps out from his pores and clouds you, suffocating you in the process.

“... i–uh…” you start, words lodged in your throat. felix lets out a small, irritated sigh. “I forgot about your birthday.” 

your voice is small and cracks. you furiously blink back the tears that are threatening to spill from your lower lash line.

“you forgot?” you nod slowly. “is that why you've been avoiding me?” you nod again. “why?”

“because i thought you'd be angry at me… like right now.” felix runs his fingers through his hair slowly.

“i’m not angry that you forgot. it happens. i’m angry because you avoided me on my birthday.”

“i know.. i’m sorry.” you look up at him and chew your bottom lip. the cupcakes catch the corner of your eye. you rush to then, opening them and the candles before sticking one in the middle of the cake.

felix follows you and watches you with eager eyes. his gaze suddenly feels hot. he licks his lips as he admires your body, eyes flickering up and down.

he's undressing you with his eyes. 

you turn around, holding the cupcake in your hand with the candle flame flickering. you present it in front of felix and smile.

“i got you cupcakes though. i know it's not much but i couldn't find anything on such short notice…” felix simply hums and looks at the cake, then you. “are you not going to blow it out?” you question after some seconds pass.

felix leans in close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as his voice drops and becomes low and deep. his warm breath fans against your ear as he speaks.

“why should i blow out the candles when you can just blow me instead?” 

goosebumps ripple along your skin. your heart suddenly starts racing. his breath feels ticklish against your ear, body temperature suddenly rising

“f-felix!” you squeak as he pulls back, finding amusement at your shocked facial expression. 

“i assume you didn't get me a gift so i can consider a blowjob as one. and if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you off the hook for avoiding me on my special day.” 

“i–” you swallow a little, the heat from the candle is radiating onto your chin, adding to the increase of your own body temperature.

felix keeps his brow raised before trailing his hand down his torso to his groin where he squeezes and groans softly.

you can't take your eyes off him. you watch his hand squeeze and palm himself through his jeans. his veins bulging from his hands and arms. 

he kicks his head back a little, lips parting and giving you a view of his outstretched neck. his adams apple bobbing with his swallows. soft moan and grunts leaving his parted lips.

“don't just stand there.” his deep voice brings you back down to reality. “blow me.”

you place the cake down on the counter (after you blow out the candle) before kneeling in front of felix. he looks down at you. his dominate aura making you feel small and vulnerable but excited.

you can feel the pit of your stomach tingle and bubble with excitement. warmth coating your groin. the tips of your fingers and toes feel electric from the surging feeling of excitement that's mixed in with hormones.

you reach up and slide your hands up and under his t-shirt. his warm skin hugs the tips of your fingers. the sturdiness of his abs flexing and tensing with his stomach moving in time with his breathing.

you feel his smooth skin, tracing his muscles with your fingers. the only thing that isn't smooth, however, is the small, yet noticeable happy trail that runs from his belly button and disappears below his jean waistband.

“mhm..” felix hums softly, your touch giving him goosebumps. you move your hands lower until they come into contact with the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

you look up at him, asking for permission with your eyes to which he gives with a nod of his head.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans slowly, revealing that he is wearing black designer boxer shorts. you notice how his bulge is slowly, but surely, getting bigger with each passing second as he anticipates and waits.

you pull his jeans down to his knees. you press the palm of your hand against his crotch, massaging him slowly. he huffs. his cock twitching against the palm of your hand.

you give him a few gentle squeezes. your touch is too gentle for his liking so he looks down again you with glossy eyes.

“harder.”

you oblige by wrapping your fingers around his clothed length and squeezing, hard. his hips buck slightly and a soft, deep moan falls from his lips.

you feel his warm hand pressing against your cheek as his fingers graze along your jawline before bumping against your bottom lip.

he slowly strokes your lip, chewing on his own. 

“look at me.” you look up at him, making eye contact. two of his fingers nudge between your lips, gently pushing past them as you part them.

“good.” he whispers as his fingers caress your tongue. your brows furrow together, lips wrapping around the two digits as you suck. your saliva coats felix's fingers thoroughly whilst he pushes them further into your mouth until they're fully encapsulated in the warmth of your mouth.

the hand that around his clothed length has slowed down and is now loosely gripping him. your groin feels hot and excited, tingles in your stomach as felix explores the inside of your mouth with his two fingers before pulling them out slowly.

he gives a satisfying ‘hm’ before instructing you to continue with the nod of his head.

you whimper a little and reach up with both hands, grabbing the waistband of his boxer shorts. your fingertips brush against his hot skin, causing felix to shiver and huff in excitement.

you slowly pull down his underwear, revealing his happy train and v-lines slowly before his erect penis is revealed, bouncing and twitching at the sudden cold air hitting his hot shaft.

felix lets out a small breath of relief. the feeling of being restrained is no longer an issue. his hips buck slightly as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly.

you watch the man above you slowly crumble. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking from his slit. his shaft is hot against the palm of your hand, tip red and a few veins protruding along the sides.

your hand glides up and down his penis, rotating at the top. you use the pad of your thumb to gently rub his tip, smearing the pre-cum and making his tip glisten.

the sensitivity gets to felix. his hips rocking a little in your hand against his will, thigh muscles noticeable twitching. his head flops to the side slightly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you and watching your every move.

you lean in and lick the side of his shaft a few times before pressing your tongue against his tip and swiping it several times. his salty pre-cum coats your tastes buds, making you feel more excited.

you rub your thighs together as the heat in your groin is unbearable at this point. you're desperate for some sort of friction and attention but you're too into pleasuring felix. with the way felix is right now, you know he is going to be selfish and chase his own high.

your free hand cups and caresses his balls. felix hums softly as you roll and squeeze them gently in your hand whilst kitten licking his tip.

“c’mon, baby. you know i need more than that.” 

you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. felix shudders and huffs a little, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you gently suckle on his tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before slowly lowering your head and pushing more of him into your mouth.

the corner of your lips feels stretched, mouth stuffed. you try to make your jaw slack but even that is a struggle with how thick and long felix is.

you struggle to put half of his length in, settling with a little under. you can feel his tip bumping the back of your throat and saliva is quick to accumulate in your mouth.

felix huffs and puffs, body shuddering and twitching. he reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair a few times. 

you start to bob your head slowly. your hand stroking what your mouth struggles to reach. the head and hand move in synch with each other, providing equally, if not more, pleasure to felix.

he feels the pleasure rushing through his veins and burning. his toes curl against the floorboards and his grip on your hair tightening with each suck as a way to keep him stable and grounded.

“...fuck … baby, m-more..” he pants.

you oblige, increasing speed and intensity. felix's moans become more intense and breathy. his body and mind failing to comprehend the intense feeling of warmth and wetness from your mouth as well as the coolness of your palm.

“... oh fuck.. yes… so fucking good…” 

this just encourages you even more. you remove your hand and place them both on his thighs for stability. you push your head further down his length until you can feel it down your throat.

you hold back your gag reflex, swallowing a few times to tighten your throat around him. felix lets out a string of incoherent moans and whispers. 

your jaw hurts. your lips hurts. your knees hurt and you can't breath but listening to felix whimper and crumble makes it all worth.

you feel him twitch in your mouth. his hips thrusting involuntarily. he's a mess and he's close.

his balls are tightening and his body is coated in a thin layer of sweat. the sensitivity of his cock head is overbearing. 

“don’t stop.. 'm close..” he struggles to say between his moaning. his strangled moans mix in with the sloppy, wet sounds of your mouth. 

he lowers his head, chin tucked into chest as he whimpers. a string of “fuck” leaves his lips as he grips onto you. it doesnt take him long. his cock twitches in your mouth, hot fluid coating your tongue and throat.

felix whimpers and whines, huffing and puffing. his body twitches and jerks. you help him ride out his orgasm before slowly pulling away. 

you look up at him, making eye contact as you swallow. felix shudders and strokes your swollen bottom lip, saliva collecting on the pad of his thumb.

“you did good, yn.” with felix's help, you rise to your feet. the numb feeling of pain on your knees becoming more noticeable now that your legs are outstretched.

“does this mean i’m forgiven?” you mumble. felix nods and strokes your hair gently.

“sorta.” you look at him slightly confused. “my birthday isn't over just yet, yn.”

“true… so, what do you want?” 

felix takes you by the hand and drags you to the bedroom. he gently throws you onto the bed, stripping himself of his clothing as you lean on your forearms and watch.

“i want so much more.” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you and kissing the shell of your ear.

“Why is it we’re going in the middle of the night again?”

You opened one eye, an amused smirk playing over your features upon hearing San’s question. 

The car shook gently as Yunho drove your group along a winding, uneven path towards an abandoned convent. Seonghwa guided him through the dark of the night with a map on his lap, ignoring San’s anxious demeanour completely.

Hongjoong, who sat next to Seonghwa on the double passenger seat, rolled his eyes. “You know the reason”, he grunted dismissively and made himself more comfortable in his seat again.

“I know”, San whined, leaning forward to grab Hongjoong’s shoulders, “but why?”

Wooyoung leaned over your form to pry San’s hands from their leader. “Oh, come here, my sweet little scaredy-cat.”

You opened both eyes now, watching them be all touchy and cuddly right on your lap with an unreadable expression. 

Jongho made the sound of throwing up, pretending to be heavily disgusted by their display of affection.

“The real question is, why didn’t you two want to sit next to each other? Now you’re torturing Y/N instead with your antics.” Yeosang snickered from behind, thankful he wasn’t the victim caught in the middle for once.

The two men on your lap turned their heads, looking at your face. While San had an almost apologetic and pleading expression, Wooyoung just grinned up at you cheekily. “Oh, you know Y/N secretly likes that.”

You scoffed at that, pushing his head playfully away from yourself. “You wish.”

“Oh, yes! You have no idea how much I wish for you to join.” 

“If they’re asking you to follow them, they want a threesome with you. Just a heads up.” Mingi commented, laughing at how Jongho immediately made the throwing up sounds again.

“Mingi!” San cried out, sitting back up and turning around to look at the man behind him. “You can’t just say that!”

“Worried you’re too scared to get it up?”

This time you rolled your eyes and slid down in your seat, wishing to be excluded from the fight. You closed your eyes again, drowning out their bickering voices and focusing on the reason you were there to begin with.

“We’re here!” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the discussion, directing a stern look at all the passengers around you. “Remember to be discreet. We do not want any authorities to bust our mission.”

“Yes, mom!” All of them called in unison before spilling out of the parked car. 

You chuckled softly, seeing Seonghwa’s pained smile. He truly did behave like the mom of the group. “They’re a lot, aren’t they?” You patted his shoulder and got out of the car yourself.

Yunho had opened the tailgate of the car, revealing several backpacks and equipment for the paranormal investigation they had planned.

“So this convent was abandoned ninety years ago after a massacre where eight nuns and a priest got murdered”, Hongjoong recited the information he had gathered over the past few weeks, “the other residents were so traumatised by this event that they couldn’t stand it staying near this place.”

Yeosang laughed nervously. “Nine people died back then.” He glanced around at his team. “And we’re nine people as well.”

The second Yeosang finished his observation, San started whining loudly, pouting and refusing to go anywhere near the convent now. 

Jongho smack Yeosang’s back. “Better watch out then.”

You rolled your eyes again and grabbed your backpack, hoisting it up on one shoulder. “They’re joking”, you muttered towards San as you thrusted his backpack into his flailing arms.

Wooyoung wrapped himself around the broad shoulders of San. “I’ll protect you, my sweet little scaredy-cat.” He laughed squeakily and jumped up and down, pulling San towards the building in the process.

“So much for being discreet”, Seonghwa sighed deeply. He turned on his flashlight, letting the circle of light wander over the surrounding area.

“It’s going to be alright.” Mingi patted his shoulder. “We’re far away from any town or village. Who’s going to notice we’re trespassing, huh?”

“With that blabbermouth even the capital miles away will hear us do that”, Jongho grunted, switching his flashlight on as well and heading straight for the building.

The rest followed him in various states of enthusiasm. Yunho was the last one to follow, closing the tailgate and locking the car before he tagged along.

All of you stopped at the gates to the convent, an unspoken tension weighing down on everyone.

You looked around, ignoring the roaming circles of light from the others. The surrounding woods seemed rather dense at night, the light of the flashlights barely reaching further than the second line of trees.

The old convent walls were overgrown with vines, some of them even stretching over gaping holes as the stone had caved in over time. Random things laid on the ground, grass half growing over them. Statues of angels had fallen over, their stone pieces scattered all over the place.

“Inviting”, you mumbled under your breath, pushing past the hesitating men and entering the convent grounds.

The path used to be there was barely visible - even less during the dark of the night. You stepped over some broken statue pieces, making a grimace at the crunching sound underneath your feet. You heard the others following you, their lights wandering around the area in curiosity.

“I think we should find the room where it all happened and set up some of our equipment there”, Yunho suggested, passing you with his long legs. Mingi followed close behind, already holding the EMF metre in his large hand.

When you glanced behind you, you noticed how the others also held their specialised equipment in their hands: a night vision camera, thermometers, an old radio to catch static sounds or even voices as well as a thermographic camera. 

All that in hopes of witnessing the presence of one ghost.

Before you even entered the building the first small groups had built and split up. Wooyoung, San and Yeosang stayed outside, checking the grounds for any activity. Jongho quickly ventured into the left wing of the building on his own, while Seonghwa and Hongjoong went further into the back. 

You hurriedly caught up with Mingi and Yunho, both of them walking up the stairs to the next level. 

The steps cracked underneath your weight, making you wince from the seemingly loud sound. The stench of mould and wet furniture invaded your nose. 

“Can you imagine all of this once bustled with life?”

“How lively can it be with a bunch of nuns living here?” You retorted to Yunho’s question, barely able to hide the grin on your face. 

He snorted and slowed down his pace, staying next to you and bumping your shoulder playfully. “Don’t you have to be a little more respectful on these grounds? Aren’t they holy or something?”

“Even after all this time?” Mingi joined you on your other side, looking at you two with wide eyes.

“Definitely not!” You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Maybe the church on the east side was a holy ground but definitely not anymore.”

“Why not?”

Yunho grinned at you, heavily amused by the fact Mingi now started asking you all kinds of questions.

“To make something holy you have to cleanse it. It’s basically like showering. If you don’t shower after a while you start to stink. So do grounds that don’t get cleansed regularly. They don’t stay holy.”

Mingi made a sound of understanding, nodding his head ever so slowly while his eyes roamed around the long hallway.

You glanced at Yunho, who simply winked at you. He didn’t say anything else, instead turning around a corner and leaving you alone with Mingi.

For a while you two only walked side by side further along the corridor. Your steps and the constant peeping of the EMF the only sound bouncing from the walls. 

A cold shiver ran through your whole body. You stopped in your movements. You furrowed your brows. 

Mingi stopped a few steps further down the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you feel that?” You looked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “What about the EMF? Quick! Come back here! Does it pick something up?” You ushered Mingi back to your spot, grabbing his wrist and pulling the EMF right in front of your chest.

“Nothing.”

You moved Mingi’s arm around the area, hoping to catch some sort of activity. “What?” You growled in annoyance. Did you just imagine the cold? Is your mind playing tricks on you? What just happened?

“What’s wrong?” Mingi repeated his question, growing nervous from your frantic movements. “What was I supposed to feel?” 

Your heart rate increased rapidly. Your breathing turned shallow. Your eyes darted around aimlessly and unfocused. “Something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked several times, softly shaking your head. You looked back up at Mingi. Fear evident in both of your gazes. “I don’t know.”

Before your mind caught up to your body, you already hurried back down the corridor. Something pulled you back downstairs. While you had no idea what it was, you just knew you had to be there as fast as possible.

The light of your flashlight flickered as you turned around a corner, momentarily leaving you in the dark. You rushed deeper into the building, barely avoiding broken doors and walls. 

When you turned around yet another corner, you suddenly slipped and fell to the ground. 

“Fuck.” You hissed as you pushed yourself up again. The flashlight had rolled several feets away from you, going on and off repeatedly. You raised one hand to your forehead, groaning from the dull throbbing. 

You stopped in your movements. The scent of something metallic forcing its way into your nose. At the same time the feeling of something warm and sticky on your hands made itself known. As you sat there in the dark another cold shiver ran down your back. You raised your trembling hands in front of your body, eyes trained on them. Only after the flashlight turned on once again, did you see it.

Something red coloured your hands. It dripped down to the puddle on the ground, somewhat connecting your hands to it.

Your ears started ringing. A cold sweat spread all over your skin. Your eyes unfocused. 

“Y/N!” You felt several hands pulling at your shoulders and arms. They shook you anxiously until you finally snapped out of your stupor.

“What happened?”

“Y/N?”

“Are you alright?”

“We heard you scream!”

You turned your head almost mechanically to look at them. Your eyes wandered over the seven faces staring at you. “Where’s Hongjoong?”

The men turned their heads, looking at each other and around, before shrugging with their shoulders.

“Wasn’t he with you, Seonghwa?”

“Only in the beginning!”

You looked back at your hands, trying desperately to stop the tremble inside of them. 

Wooyoung grabbed your shoulder, pulling your focus back to them. “What happened, Y/N? We heard you scre-”. His voice got stuck in his throat when he finally noticed your hands. “What the fuck?”

The others turned their gazes to your hands as well. They gasped or cursed in shock.

“Is that blood?”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Why did you ask for Hongjoong?”

Yunho walked around the room, moving his circle of light all over the place. “Hongjoong?” His voice boomed through the room, even echoing from the hallway outside. “Hongjoong? Where are you?”

No answer.

“Y/N? Please”, Seonghwa begged quietly, crouching down next to you. “Tell us what happened?”

“Let’s get Y/N out of this room first”, Jongho interjected. He forcefully helped you up, keeping his hand on your upper arm and pulling you outside.

Once outside Jongho sat you down on one of the many fallen statues. He stepped back again, leaving you some space.

The others gathered around you, nervous glances being exchanged and wandering around. Hongjoong still hasn’t appeared.

Seonghwa was the first to move again, walking up to you and kneeling in front of your form. He pulled some tissues out of his pockets, as well as a bottle of water. Without a word he reached for your hands and quietly started cleaning them.

“Do you think Hongjoong got lost somewhere?” Yeosang whispered, glancing at the others with uncertainty.

“No.”

All heads snapped to you, surprised to hear your hoarse voice. “You seem to know something we don’t.”

You nodded ever so slowly. “There’s a reason I joined your mission.” You pulled a badge out of your pocket and held it up for them to see it. “I’m a detective and I’m working on a case of a serial killer. I followed some new leads, which brought me to you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Yunho interrupted you with furrowed brows. His expression appeared cold and distant, as if he tried to control his own anger.

“Hongjoong was murdered.”

They gasped in shock, eyes widening almost comically. Some of them protested weakly, not wanting to believe one of their friends is dead. “He could just be hurt somewhere!”

“There was too much blood on the floor.” You shook your head and bit down on your lower lip. “He’s definitely dead already.”

“Shouldn’t we get out of here then? If there’s a serial killer roaming around that building somewhere?” Wooyoung questioned.

“We can’t just leave Hongjoong here!”

“HE’S DEAD ALREADY! Are you willing to risk your own life for a corpse?” 

“HE’S OUR FRIEND!”

You watched them yell at each other. Silently, you noted down within your mind every little detail you caught on. After all, your intel showed you it must be one of them. “We won’t be able to leave.”

“What?” Their arguing stopped instantly as they turned back to you. As you didn’t say anything else, a nervous tension filled the air.

“You think it’s one of us”, Jongho stated bluntly, followed by more gasps of shock.

You saw how they turned to look at you, hoping Jongho only made a cruel joke. Though seeing your serious expression their hope vanished. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I need to go back to the crime scene. I hope to find some sort of clue who might have done it.” You pushed yourself up, quietly thanking Seonghwa for his help cleaning you up. 

“What about us?”

“You can’t go alone!”

San jumped forward and wrapped his arms around one of yours, clinging himself to your side. “I don’t wanna die here”, he whispered into your ear, looking at you pleadingly.

Seonghwa stepped next to you as well. “If it’s one of us, I agree that you can’t go alone.”

“We can’t all go”, you sighed in exasperation. “I fear we already destroyed important evidence the first time we were there.” You massaged your temples, feeling like your head was about to explode. “I also need to find his body.”

“Then let's make two groups”, Mingi suggested, “one will search for Hongjoong and the other will check the room again.”

You nodded. “Let’s do that.”

After some discussion Yeosang joined the two men, who already made it to your side, and the other four men formed the second group.

You hoped this way everyone stayed somewhat safe for now - or at least until you discovered some sort of clue to save the innocent.

“I, uh, I’ll stay outside of the room”, San whispered as he stopped in front of the broken door, staring with unfocused eyes into the dark void. He didn’t react to Seonghwa’s sweet words, asking him to come inside, nor did he react to Yeosang’s soft pulling.

“Stay in the doorway and look outside. That way you’re not out of sight.” You barely waited for his short nod before you walked into the room. You had grabbed San’s flashlight, since your own lied broken on the ground. 

You immediately started your search, checking every corner of the room. You somewhat ignored the others, too focused on your own mission. There had to be something. You had to find something, anything.

San stayed at the doorway like you told him, but your constant muttering as well as the stench of blood and mold drained the colour from his face. “I don’t think I can…” He didn’t finish his words, doubling over and vomiting on the ground. 

“He needs to get out of here!” You ordered and pointed aimlessly at Yeosang and Seonghwa, hoping either of them would help him out. 

Yeosang immediately jumped to his friend, waiting until he only gasped for air to pull him outside. 

Seonghwa on the other hand already pulled out several more tissues and handed them to San. He crouched down as well, wiping along the doorframe for a second, before he followed Yeosang and San outside.

You stayed behind, pondering over the events that happened here. You definitely wanted to talk to Seonghwa, questioning him about his actions. As far as you knew he was also the last one to be with Hongjoong, making him the main suspect in this case.

Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t notice someone approaching you.

Out of the corner of your eye and at the edge of your light you saw something bloodied. Again.

A scream got stuck in your throat.

You turned around. Ready to defend yourself.

When Mingi raised his hands in an innocent manner. “Hey, there.”

You cursed under your breath, laughing awkwardly when the initial shock subsided. “My heart nearly stopped, Mingi! You can’t scare me like that!” You walked over to him, pulling him into a hug from the relief you felt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” He wrapped himself around you. “I just lost the others and knew you should be here.”

You furrowed your brows in surprise and confusion. “How did you lose the others? You should have stayed together.”

“You’re on your own as well!”

You rolled your eyes with a soft chuckle. “San wasn’t able to stay near the crime scene so the others brought him outside.” You turned your head and looked over the room again. “Maybe we should follow them”, you mumbled and pursed your lips. You had to question Seonghwa, there was no way around it.

Mingi guided you outside again, where you found a retching San and Yeosang helplessly standing next to him. 

“Where’s Seonghwa?”

Yeosang pointed towards the building and you followed his finger with your gaze. 

With a sigh you rolled your shoulders, ready to confront him, when Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung came running from the direction you wanted to go.

Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, the colour from his features draining as he stared at you with wide eyes. 

The other two kept rushing towards you, a crazed look in their eyes. “Weren’t you all supposed to stay with Seonghwa?” Yunho pointed accusingly at you and then at Yeosang and San.

“He went back in! How was I supposed to stay with Seonghwa with a retching San right over here?” Yeosang protested loudly, his hand vaguely waving over the bend over San.

“Mingi was with me”, you answered, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “Why are you even asking?”

“Because we just found his body”, Jongho interjected.

Your expression dropped, hands falling to your sides. “No”, you whispered, exhaling shakily. “This can’t be.” You ran past them, ignoring their calls and hurrying inside. You stopped at every little room, peeking inside in hopes to find Seonghwa.

“Hwa!” Your voice carried a sense of desperation as your search continued without any sign of him. “Seonghwa! Answer me!”

“He can’t.” 

You whirled around at Yeosang’s voice. Your eyes jumped between his own, trying to understand what was going on. “This can’t be true.”

“What are you doing here?” Yunho interrupted you two, staring at you with a pointed look. “Why are you over there? We found him in that room.” He pointed at a room that you had passed already.

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I already checked that room. Seonghwa wasn’t in there.”

“What are you talking about?” You heard the hint of annoyance in his voice before he stormed off into that room. 

Without hesitation you rushed over to him, following him into the room as well. You ignored Yeosang who still stood there, silently watching you. “See, I told you-”

“Where did you take him?” Yunho’s voice boomed through the room. His anger finally took over and he turned around, glaring at you menacingly.

You startled from his sudden outburst, stumbling backwards and blinking several times. 

Mingi showed up behind you, followed by the others. All of them got drawn into the room by his loud voice, worried gazes switching between him and you.

“I’m asking you again. WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM?”

You stuttered something incomprehensible, unable to form a coherent sentence or argument. You didn’t even know what to say to calm him down either. 

“How would they be able to drag a whole body around without any of us noticing? Y/N wasn’t even alone at all.” Mingi placed his hands on your shoulder, backing you up not just with his words but with his gesture as well.

“Then who did it?” Yunho stalked through the room, grabbing drawers, tables and chairs and throwing them around as if he’d find Seonghwa somewhere behind them. 

You watched him silently, thoughts already racing inside your head. You had suspected Seonghwa to be the murderer but apparently you had been way off with him now gone too. Your eyes wandered to the other guys, wondering who the culprit might be instead.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You just couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m out of here”, San muttered, still pale and weak on his legs. He didn’t wait for any response, wobbling out of the room already.

“He shouldn’t go alone.”

You watched how Yeosang followed him until he was out of your sight. In the meantime Jongho tried calming Yunho down again, promising to find both missing members with him. They left the room as well, leaving Mingi at your side and Wooyoung close to the entrance, staring at you blankly.

“What are we going to do now?”

You silently shook your head, unsure what was the best course of action. You turned your head to look at Mingi. As of now he seemed to be the only one who couldn’t have done either of the murders.

“I think we shouldn’t be splitting up again”, he mumbled and gently pushed you towards the entrance.

Wooyoung stayed where he was, his head turning almost mechanically as you passed. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You called over your shoulder. A cold shiver ran down your spine again. Something definitely was off here.

Even with Mingi’s suggestion of staying together, it appeared harder than all of you anticipated. Somehow there seemed to be always a kind of situation that pulled your group apart.

And one by one your group got smaller and smaller.

After Hongjoong and Seonghwa, Yeosang was the next to vanish.

Except for another large puddle of blood his body was nowhere to be found.

Then Jongho disappeared. 

He heard a noise and followed it. Never came back.

San currently sat down, pressed against a wall. He slightly rocked his upper body back and forth, mumbling quietly and erratically to himself. 

You tried calming him down, crouching down in front of his form. Though your words didn’t reach him at all. 

A movement at the corner of your eye caught your attention, letting you glance towards it for a second. Only when your gaze moved back to San, did your brain register what you saw.

Mingi. 

At least a version of Mingi.

Pitch black eyes. Hollow cheeks and blood streaks running down from his eye sockets. Chapped lips and an even paler complexion than San who felt sick.

The air got stuck in your throat, fear gripping at your very core. Your eyes shakily moved back, followed by your whole head.

You exhaled in disbelief, pitifully laughing at yourself and your mad imagination. “It’s you”, you chuckled and shook your head, “again.”

Except for some dishevelled clothing and hair Mingi looked just the same.

You stood up and brushed over your clothes, sending one last pitiful glance at San. “I think I’ll go look for Yunho. He’s been raging around like crazy with everything that’s going on.”

As you started to walk away, Mingi silently followed you, continuously staying one step behind you. He only left your side when you asked him to check a room here and there.

To your surprise though Yunho was nowhere to be found. At the same time you noticed something else.

It felt eerily quiet.

“Let’s head back to San”, you called out and started running towards the outside.

Your breathing came out ragged when you finally reached the spot where you had left him. 

Only to find an empty spot.

You cursed under your breath, running your fingers through your hair. “This can’t be happening.” You paced around and started chewing on your nail.

By now you had searched every room of the convent and even the outside grounds without having found any trace of the others. 

Except for puddles of blood.

You stopped your pacing, your head turning towards the church at the east side of the grounds. 

The only place you hadn’t checked yet.

Your first steps were hesitant, more like a stumble before you broke out into another sprint. 

When you reached the double doors to the church, two voices called out your name. You turned around with wide eyes, seeing both Wooyoung and Mingi running towards you.

“You shouldn’t go in there alone”, Mingi panted once he reached you.

“You shouldn’t be here in the first place”, Wooyoung hissed.

You blinked several times, trying to comprehend what was happening. With furrowed brows and your eyes switching between them two you still reached for the door, intent on opening it. 

It’s then that you noticed Wooyoung wasn’t even looking at you. His glare was directed towards Mingi.

“What’s going-”

“How many times do I have to kill you?”

Your jaw dropped open and your eyes widened when you heard Wooyoung’s question.

“WHY! Why can’t you stay dead?”

You stepped back, your weight pushing the door to the church open. You stumbled backwards, barely catching yourself.

Mingi called out to you but got rooted in his place when you reached for your weapon and raised it towards them. You moved it between the two men, desperately trying to make sense of this whole situation.

“What do you mean by killing him over and over again?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your eyes flicked towards Wooyoung and then back to Mingi. 

“So”, you inhaled deeply, “you killed all the others?”

“No!” Wooyoung raised both his hands, a desperate attempt to show his innocence. “I swear it wasn’t me!”

Your attention turned to Mingi who stared ahead of you with a face void of any emotion. When you glanced back at Wooyoung, you noticed how his eyes widened in shock as they focused on something behind you.

Ever so slowly you turned around. You swallowed harshly.

The inside of the church was kept in pristine condition. The walls stayed a blinding white, same with the floor. The seats were aligned in perfect rows from the front to the back and the gold applications on the altar appeared as new as ever. 

There wasn’t any sign of broken furniture nor spots of mould. The only thing inside the whole room that shouldn’t have been there were six bodies placed in a circle right in front of the altar.

You clapped your hand in front of your mouth, the scream stuck in your throat. 

More blood pooled around the bodies, connecting them to one another. Their pale skin nearly glowed against the dark red of the blood. Their hands were folded in a praying manner across their chests while their dead eyes stared at the ceiling.

You turned back around to the two remaining guys. “What kind of psycho are you to do this to your friends?” You yelled and pointed your gun back at Wooyoung. “And you tried killing Mingi too?”

“It wasn’t me!” Wooyoung cried out. “Well, at least not this.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You glanced towards Mingi, who stayed oddly impassive to the whole situation. You mused he was in shock.

Wooyoung stepped towards you and you quickly focused back on him. “I can’t let this slide.” His eyes widened and his expression morphed from shock to sheer panic. 

The gun shot rang loudly through the air, followed by the dull drop from Wooyoung’s body hitting the floor.

You exhaled shakily. Your eyes were unfocused. 

You only got it together when Mingi started moving again.

Mingi calmly walked over to Wooyoung’s body and picked it up, carrying it over to the circle of the others.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you started.”

“What I started?” You asked incredulously. You scoffed, disbelief radiating from every cell inside your body.

“The human mind is such a flimsy thing.” Mingi laughed out, the sound empty and foreign. “Can’t even remember what you did, you poor little thing.” He placed Wooyoung down on the ground, filling one of the empty spots in the circle.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as one cold shiver after the other ran along your spine.

This wasn’t right. Nothing of this was right.

You raised your gun back up, pointing it at Mingi this time. Dread filled your chest at the thought of having shot someone innocent. Though he said he tried to kill Mingi - more than once. So technically Wooyoung wasn’t that innocent. At least that’s what you tried telling yourself to justify the seemingly grave mistake you made.

“Explain yourself!”

“You suspected Hongjoong at first-”

You barked out a laugh. “What are you even talking about? He died first! How should he have been a suspect?”

Mingi’s head turned towards you, a boyish grin plastered on his lips. “Remember the reason you joined this expedition? ‘Cause you thought there was a serial killer hiding among us. And you suspected Hongjoong to be it.”

You bit on your lower lip, silently waiting for him to continue speaking.

“Now with Hongjoong’s death you needed a new suspect and who else to pick but his partner for everything.” Mingi stood back up, walking around the circle of bodies only for him to stop at Seonghwa’s head. “So you confronted him and killed him, thinking all your made up clues inside your head were pointing at him. But then his body disappeared and fear gripped your heart again.”

Memories flashed inside of your mind, showing you scenes of a fight and Seonghwa’s face twisted in pain. 

“Same with all the others. Yeosang, Jongho, Yunho, San.” Mingi stopped at each one of them as he spoke before he slowly walked towards you. “For each one of them you crafted yourself some sort of reason why they were the culprits and you killing them was supposed to save the others. And nobody ever suspected you. After all, slipping on Hongjoong’s blood was a great move: being covered in it nobody suspected any blood stain on you.”

Your hands started trembling as more memories of your gruesome actions filled your mind. 

Mingi placed his hand on yours, slowly pushing them down until the gun pointed at the ground. He walked around you while his hands ran up your arms. 

You shivered when his breath caressed the shell of your ear. “There never was a serial killer in this group”, he whispered in a low tone, “not until you turned into one yourself, my little mass murderer.”

You shook your head in denial, tears spilling out and running over your cheeks. This couldn’t be true. You couldn’t have possibly done all of this. “I don’t believe you.”

Mingi chuckled into your ear, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders. “Maybe you should believe your own memories. Aren’t they coming back to you? Right, you simply don’t want to trust yourself. How could it be possible for a good person to turn bad all in the name of justice.”

You shook your head again, barely noticing how Mingi guided you closer towards the circle of bodies. 

There were still two empty spots and a part of your brain knew what that meant. “You’re going to end this here, aren’t you?”

Mingi laughed again. “On the contrary. You’ll be the one to end it all.”

You looked up at him through teary eyes, brows furrowing in confusion. “I won't kill you now that I know what happened!” 

Mingi stepped away from you, walking over to one of the empty spots. “There's no need for that. This body has been dead for a while now.” He waved his hand in front of his form as if he was pulling a curtain aside, revealing the horrific state of his body that you had thought you imagined earlier on.

You slowly shook your head from side to side in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. You simply couldn’t believe this to be true. 

You watched him sit down on the ground, crossing his long legs over one another and leaning back on his palms. He even tilted his head and grinned devilishly at you. “It’s missing only one more thing.” Mingi jerked his chin towards the second empty space of the circle.

A gasp tore its way through your throat at the indication. Yet, all you could do was shake your head mechanically. “You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, obviously I do. We both know you won’t be able to live with the guilt of having murdered eight men - eight friends.”

You desperately wished for this to be a lie, hoped to wake up from a nightmarish fever dream. Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat closed up. 

Your mind played one murder after the other inside your head, letting you relive each and everyone of it. 

Mingi layed down on the floor, laughing to himself while your inner turmoil tore you apart.

As if your body had a mind of its own, your feet carried you to the last empty spot. Your eyes wandered over the others, staring at them through a blurry vision. 

“I can’t”, you whispered, followed by a soft hiccup. You dropped to your knees as sobs tore through your throat. 

The dim light from the candles flickered around, casting shadows all over the circle. Soon the sun would rise again. Though none of the bodies inside the church would do the same.

Ever again.

© all rights reserved

he smiles that megawatt, heart-stopping smile at you. the corners of his mouth quirk up, lush pink lips stretching over two rows of perfect teeth. jaemin’s smile has always been your favorite physical feature on him.

“yes, of course, i love the rest of you!”

“but what about-”

“yea jaem - that includes your dick.” is usually some variation of how the conversation would go between the two of you when you complimented his smile. of course he knows you love him, and that you’re in love with him, but who would he be if he didn’t whine his way into getting more compliments from you?

jaemin’s smile is something that needs to be immortalized in a mural on the sistine chapel ceiling, or however, the damn saying goes.

it’s hard to remember much when he’s fucking your last remaining brain cells out of you..

“if only you could see yourself right now, baby girl - so fucked out you can’t even focus on me for more than a second,” jaemin sighs at you, eyes focused on the way your eyes cross and mouth twists in a choked cry.

you wanted so badly to strike back with something sassy, but his thumb has moved to stroke your clit just the way you like and the breath is knocked out of you.

jaemin’s left hand, the one gripping your thigh like a lifeline as it hangs limply around his waist, shifts downward to the back of your knee. he lifts your leg to drape it over his shoulder. his cock wedges deeper into you, the sensation completely blocking out the way your knee hits the roof of the car on the way up.

in the very back recesses of your brain you conjure enough sense to be happy that jaemin had driven your suv out tonight. fucking him in his sedan would’ve been doable, but a little trickier.

you would know since he has in fact, fucked you in his car before. comfort makes all the difference.

it had been him that needed you that night, the dress you’d worn for jeno’s birthday party at his favorite club making it impossible for jaemin not to watch you all night. just seeing you standing and talking to your group of friends had him locked in, his heavy gaze watching your every move. when he finally got his hands on you, he could only focus on dancing with you for a single song before he was dirty talking you out of the club and onto your hands and knees in the backseat of his bmw.

tonight, it just so happened to be your turn to shamelessly ogle your boyfriend like a woman starved.

in your defense, it is literally his fault. he’d been teasing you all day.

your boyfriend had taken it upon himself to wake you up this morning by crawling between your legs and rousing you out of your sleep with his lips attached to your clit. apparently, he missed you so much while you were asleep he couldn’t wait to have a taste of you as soon as his eyes opened.

you didn’t have a problem with it, nor did you have a problem with the way his hands took every opportunity to find your hips, your side, your ass, or your hands with his own as the day went on. you cleaned your shared apartment before getting ready for your friends’ housewarming gathering later and jaemin couldn’t keep his hands off of you - again, not that it was a bad thing.

what did end up being a bad thing - for you at least - is how wound up he left you, only to leave the house for your outing tonight looking like the sexiest man on the planet (as if he didn’t already do that every day).

jaemin wore dark denim jeans and a casual blazer - a very normal outfit in your opinion.

except, under his blazer was a form-fitting tank top. the get-together was only a handful of friends and the hosts made it clear it was an extremely casual time so neither of you had to worry over an outfit to wear. still, the moment jaemin decided to take his blazer off and you watched as his shoulders, arms, and the thick vein that runs up his bicep whenever he flexed became visible, you wished he had worn a three-piece suit instead.

how the hell were you supposed to be normal when he had riled you up so much over the course of the day? and of course, even in the car ride over, he had let his hand rest on your bare thigh, fingertips casually resting just under the bottom of your skirt. you wanted more than anything for him to creep those thick fingers up the rest of the way and find their way into your panties.

he didn’t though, he instead talked about how excited he was for donghyuck and his partner, your best friend, to have finally been able to get their own house. it made jaemin talk wistfully about when the two of you would do the same. your heart would normally be fluttering in your chest at how sweet your boyfriend of four years is and how much it made you fall even more in love with him when he talked about your future together.

and while yes, you were feeling that giddiness, your pussy was also throbbing, panties sticking uncomfortably against you as his fingers danced on your skin, but made no move upwards.

so, again, it was hardly your fault that you needed him so badly. that’s why, at some point in the night, you simply lost all decorum. it was when jaemin came into the kitchen while you were trying to decide which appetizer to distract yourself with. he was still just in his undershirt and had the nerve to smile at you.

“hey, beautiful,” he immediately came over to place a kiss on your cheek. your back was to him so he casually draped himself over you, back-hugging you as he surveyed the food options. “having fun?”

you hummed in affirmation, suddenly getting distracted as he pressed into you, reaching over your body to grab a slice of pizza. his chest was so solid behind you, his warmth striking the match that was your overwhelming thirst for him.

“yeah, but i’d be having more fun if you were fucking me right now.”

jaemin’s eyes widened, head tilting as he studied you. “oh yeah?” he sounded genuinely intrigued. “and where is that coming from?”

rolling your eyes, you scoffed at him, pushing your ass back into his bulge behind you, jaemin letting a grunt sound in his throat.

“you’ve been messing with me since you woke me up!” he smirked at the memory, obviously not sorry one bit. “then, you spent the whole day groping me like a perv!”

he gasped, “first of all, i’m offended that me wanting skinship with my girlfriend whom i love so much makes me a perv!”

“still! and then you walk around this house in this tight shirt with your arms just out!”

“is it not warm in here?! it’s not my fault donghyuck won’t let us turn the aircon lower!”

you flipped around, wrapping your arms around his waist, surprising him again.

“jaem, please can we go home? i need you so bad,” you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes, jutting your lip out for good measure. jaemin’s willingness to give into you would typically depend on how nice or how mean he was feeling that day.

unfortunately for you, it was obvious he wasn’t going to give you what you want anytime soon. a downright devilish smirk overtook him as he pressed against you, his bulge pressing into your belly. your grip on his waist tightened as you felt in real time, his dick hardening against you.

“honestly, i had no idea i was getting you so flustered, baby girl,” one of his hands moves to hold your waist, grinding against you once more. “but now that i know, i think instead of leaving now, it’ll be much more fun to make you wait until later.” as soon he says that, he snatches his hold on you away, separating your bodies before you can grab at him again.

“jaemin!” you pout, arms falling to your side.

“besides, it would be rude to leave our friends’ gathering celebrating this milestone in their lives! you wouldn’t want to do that, right sweetheart?” you cross your arms. that was true - you didn’t want to leave the celebration early just to run off and have sex with your boyfriend - even if your body was practically buzzing at the sight of jaemin just standing in front of you. “plus, sometimes i just love making you unbearably horny. you get so fucking desperate for me.”

he had the nerve to giggle at the scoff you let out as he blew you a kiss and left the kitchen.

and you hate how right he was. you were so pathetically desperate for him. you kept your eyes on him all night and quickly got tired of just looking, so you decided to flip the script on him, using every excuse you got to touch or rub up on him.

your ass rubbed against him as you inserted yourself into a conversation with he and jeno. your nail scraped across his firm chest as you scooted past him to get to the bathroom. you made sure to grip the highest part of his thigh when for “stability” as you rose from the couch to go talk to a friend.

it was partially to tease him right back and partially to fulfill your scorching need to feel him up. you were admittedly shameless in your lust for him, but so what? if it’s a crime to want to have sex at every opportunity with your incredibly sexy boyfriend then you’ll gladly accept your sentence.

by the time the night was over and goodbyes were shared, you knew your actions were anything but criminal.

“just so you know, when we get home i’m going to do so much more than eat your slutty little cunt out,” he says low enough for only you to hear, which combined with the way his fingertips dug into your lower back as he walked you to the car, was anything but a punishment.

excitement coursed through your veins - when jaemin started to say absolutely filthy things to you before using his soft words as foreplay, you knew he wanted you in more of a carnal way than anything slow and drawn out. he needed you then just as badly as you had needed him.

“oh yeah?” you mused, pretending to be surprised by his admission. you unabashedly smiled up at him, amused by the way he frowned back in response.

“yeah,” he said simply, opening your passenger door, holding your hand as you stepped up and in, not saying another word.

you had known he was going to fuck your brains out when you got home, but what you hadn’t known was that he’d decide he couldn’t wait anymore. that instead of waiting to bend you in half at home in your bed, he was going to pull onto a side road on the way home and do it. the road was still under construction, so it was a dead end with no one nearby, all the workers having gone home for the night.

jaemin drives his hips into the backs of your thighs faster, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing against the fogged-up windows.

“ja-aemin!” your back arches up when he takes his thumb away from your clit to readjust your hips on the seat.

he tuts at you, his hand quickly moving back between you to smack at your clit, the sting pushing a squeal out of you.

“patience, my slutty baby. i’m making sure you don’t fall.” he smacks your bud again, hand going back to your hips and forcefully slowing your movement down. he ignores your pleas and protests for him to do anything other than stop.

“jaemin, no no no no please!”

“fuck i love when you beg for me like this. my pretty, needy girl.”

“yes, yes, jaem please, i’m so needy.”

jaemin bites his lip, slowly rotating his hips. it’s not fast enough to give you any relief from the pressure building in your stomach and you whine out louder in frustration.

“needy for what exactly?” he’s teasing you because of course he is.

“you, jaemin!”

“what about me?”

“oh my god, jaemin, your dick! i need your dick and i need you to fuck me and make me cum! please!” you’re more irritated when you say it, your orgasm having been taken from you.

“i know, i just like to hear you say it,” jaemin chuckles.

“you’re so annoying!” you grunt, trying to move your hips to set the pace yourself. instead, jaemin presses them down into the cloth seats, leaning over your body to bring his face directly in front of you.

you stop your squirming to gasp, surprised by his proximity. his dark eyes sweep over your face before he’s leaning down to kiss you, plump lips moving against yours with hunger and determination. you instantly kiss him back, eyes slipping closed as jaemin’s tongue caresses yours, both of you sighing into the other. jaemin reaches up to cradle your head and he deepens the kiss, but only for a few more seconds. he pulls away, giggling at the tiny “noooooooo” you whimper, going so far as to kick your legs the best you could, throwing a tantrum.

jaemin coos at you, sitting up straighter. his hands skillfully reach for the buttons on your blouse, undoing them with little effort and pulling your bra up, making sure your tits fall out the bottom and tucking the unneeded fabric under your chin.

“jaem! i’m going to die if you don’t finish what you started!”

jaemin brings a heavy hand down, smacking your right tit, making you scream. “hush, brat! i wanted to see your tits while i fuck you.”

you humph at him, turning your head to look away from him with an attitude.

jaemin rolls his eyes as he repositions himself, slowly entering your waiting pussy again, and watches as your eyelids flutter closed, frown melting away as your mouth opens.

“you’re lucky i need to fill you up now or else i’d make you wait till we’re home.”

you barely hear him as inch-by-inch of jaemin slides into you until he’s bottomed out, stretching your walls out as if he hadn’t just been pumping into you minute ago.

jaemin carefully positions both legs over his shoulders, bending down into your space, both to witness the stunning expressions he’ll get you to make up close and to not risk hitting his head on the roof of your car.

the position allows it to feel as though jaemin fills you up even more, crowding so close to you that all you see, all you hear, all you smell is jaemin. if you lean up close enough, you may be able to kiss him again so you can taste jaemin too.

that stops being an option once he finally starts to move his hips and thrusts into you, wasting no time to ease you into it. jaemin grinds into you with a force that makes the car start to shake again.

“shit - jaem!”

“feel good, baby girl?”

“so so good!”

jaemin shuffles his lower half closer to you, pushing you further up the seat with each rough thrust. he manages to lean closer to pepper your faces in sloppy kisses with each snap of his hips.

“so fucking beautiful,” jaemin groans, the blunt nails on his left hand dig into the sensitive skin of your thighs as he bullies his cock into your sopping pussy harder, harder, and harder again, your cries for him nothing but incomprehensible nonsense at this point.

when the positioning of his hips changes an inch, it’s just enough to have the fat head of his cock knocking into your g-spot over and over again.

“fuuuuck! yes, right there jaem baby, right there!” you shriek, nails digging into his thick biceps as you cling to them, your head spinning with pleasure.

“open your eyes, pretty girl,” jaemin nearly growls. “look at me when you cum.”

it feels almost impossible, but you do as you’re told, prying your teary lashes open to meet jaemin’s gaze. you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, eyes dark, pupils blown out as he stares you down. his black hair is sticking to his face as a few sweat droplets trail down the side of his face and drip, making his beautiful, honeyed skin glow. 

your eyes follow, catching sight of the way his gold chain dangles over you as he snakes his hand between your bodies again, this time returning his fingers to your aching clit, twisting and rubbing harsh circles into the sensitive bud with a purpose.

“jaem…baby, i-i i’m so close. s-so close!”

“yeah? gonna cum for me baby girl?”

“mmhmm!”

“gonna be my good girl and make a mess for me to clean up when we get home?” jaemin’s words are strained, his own end also approaching.

“yes! anything please, jaem, just wanna cum! can i, please?”

“only if you look at me while you do,” he commands, pulling your gaze away from his sculpted chest.

when your eyes lock with his, jaemin immediately smiles at you again, this time in the cocky, self-assured way he always does when he watches you breaking down and falling to pieces for him.

“cum for me, pretty girl. come on and cream all over my fat cock,” jaemin demands, finger pressing against your clit at the same time that his cock drills into your spot for the final time needed to have your toes curling and vision turning white as you cum, nails nearly breaking skin on jaemin’s arms as you do.

through the static filling your ears, you can hear his moans getting louder and high-pitched.

he keeps his heavy eyes locked on you until he can’t anymore and his body stutters, then he’s cumming hard, lids clenching shut as ropes of white warmth fill your hole and drip out around jaemin’s twitching dick.

he rests his head against your chest, his sweaty hair making your bare skin itch. even so, you let him stay for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth of his breath with each exhale.

eventually, you have to call his name a few times, tapping the top of his head. he doesn’t respond at first, so you have to shake him harder and he finally sits up.

“hmm?”

“were you asleep?!”

“no, but i didn’t wanna leave. your tits are so soft,” jaemin pouts, hands cupping both of your breasts and squeezing. he almost gets you - your head nearly lolling back as his thumbs roll over your nipples.

you fight it though, pinching his side which makes him yelp.

“you can play with my tits when you get us home if we leave right now.”

your boyfriend sighs, but straightens himself up, gingerly pulling his softening length out of you. he can’t help but hesitate to watch in fascination when his cum leaks out from between your puffy pussy lips, only looking away when you close your legs.

“babeeeeee!”

“babe nothing! home now!” you push him away with your foot and sit up to pull your skirt down.

“fine, but you better hold all my cum inside you till we get there. i need to fuck it back into you.”

you pretend to think, jaemin making eye contact with you through the rearview mirror when you hesitate. “mmm okay…but only if you promise to fill me up again right after.” jaemin lets out a huff through his nostrils, throwing the car into drive.

“seatbelt, baby,” he tells you, waiting for you to do so before he peels away. “good girl.”

the timber of his voice has you clenching around nothing, already missing the heaviness of jaemin stretching your walls to their limit.

“anything for you, sir.” the words are sticky sweet and jaemin has to count to five because he’s sure he’ll explode if you keep it up.

“you love playing with me, don’t you?” jaemin mumbles through gritted teeth, wishing more than anything that red lights were never invented as he slows to a stop, traffic laws delaying him in getting to his destination.

“i do. not my fault i always wanna fuck my gorgeous boyfriend.” you lean up when you speak, placing a kiss on the shell of his ear.

“fuck baby…” he trails off, getting momentarily distracted when your tongue starts licking up the side of his neck, your teeth biting down on his shoulder. he refocuses when you pull away, smiling flirtatiously at him in the mirror. “it’s a good thing then that i love fucking my gorgeous girlfriend, huh?” he looks at you for a second longer before stepping on the gas when the light turns green.

“it’s because we’re perfect for each other.”

you see jaemin’s reflection in the driver’s side window and catch him smiling wide - the sight prompting you to do the same.

“yeah, i guess we are,” jaemin concludes, still smiling as he makes a turn, your apartment only a few blocks away. you watch his reflection, loving his smile as you always do, but you also can’t wait to see the way he’ll smile down at you when you get home and you get his dick in your mouth.

jaemin’s smile is your favorite feature of his - no matter how you’re making him do it.

It's a beautiful sight to pull up to; the Choi Seungcheol on his knees, thick thighs spread wide with his fingers lacing together behind his head, biceps bulging in his plain white t-shirt. The same Choi Seungcheol who for the past four years has been running the most cunning, slippery gang that has graced the city in decades. 

Local law enforcement has been trying to get their mitts on him since before he even started the gang, but Seungcheol is smart, he's always made sure to keep his hands squeaky clean. 

Which is why when you heard the news come through on your police scanner that he's been spotted with some real nasty fuckers and this is the chance to get him cuffed, you wanted to get there asap to witness and join the scene.

Who wouldn't want to have the pleasure of slapping some cuffs on Choi Seungcheol and shove him around a little, afterall?

"What did you get him for?" You ask as you approach the scene with nothing but confidence, thumbs hooked into your belt casually. 

Seungcheol glances over at you and his jaw tightens with how hard he clenches his teeth; he takes you in from head to toe, dressed in uniform so crisp it's like you've just pulled it on. You have. He doesn't look impressed.

"Probable cause," the young, over-eager cop getting ready to handcuff Seungcheol informs, sounding almost proud while his partner keeps his gun pointed firmly at Seungcheol's head. 

Seungcheol isn't stupid, reckless at times, yeah; he's been known to get pretty injured and take some big risks with his own body in order to get what he wants, but even he wouldn't risk making a move in front of a trigger-happy rookie-cop.

"Oh, you fucking idiots," you laugh, walking over to snatch the cuffs into your own hold.

"What the fuck?" The younger cop baulks dumbstruck. "Who the fuck are you to just-" 

"You really think you're going to get brownie points with the Captain by brining him Choi Seungcheol with no solid fucking cause? You think you can just put the guy in cuffs and the rest will follow? You're fucking stupid, kid," 

"But we caught him," 

"Yeah and you know what his legal team is like? You're fucking lucky I turned up,"

"Why?" 

"Because I'm willing to take him off your hands and deal with it myself. I've had my eye on Choi for fucking years, boys; I've got quite the file on him. What have you got?" 

Admittedly, you take a hell of a lot of joy in grabbing Seungcheol's right forearm to force it down and around to his lower back where you can secure the cuff around his wrist. He grunts at the unexpected force yet doesn't fight you, just clenches his jaw tighter. 

"That's a good boy," you whisper into his ear while the two cops exchange lost, almost torn expressions as they attempt to silently communicate with one another what to do.

Clearly, they don't want to just hand the man over to you but you're right; they don't have shit on Seungcheol and it would only cause them a lot of hassle to arrest him. He's too smart to talk, even in holding and would just stare darkly at them, not moving a muscle until he's released. It happened before, once, over a year ago and his legal team tore apart the station so thoroughly that the cops who arrested him had to resign and get minimum wage jobs despite being the best the precinct had to offer. 

Once you've got Seungcheol securely in the cuffs, you grab his bicep and appreciatively squeeze it as you tug on him to signal him up. You have to bite back your pleased grin at the powerful man listening to your silent orders and obediently getting up. He glares at you over his shoulder.

"You boys better get back to your patrol before you get demoted," you warn, shoving Seungcheol towards your car. He stumbles a little and glares at you again but you ignore it to reach past him and open the back door. 

Seungcheol swears and mutters under his breath when you roughly push his head down and urge him into the back of the car. He almost falls flat on his face onto the cheap imitation-leather seats. You shut the door before his colourful language cussing you out, spills out any further. 

"What?" You ask the two young men still watching you dumbly. "I know, my ass looks great in these," you smirk smugly to yourself and smack your own ass making both men jump at the loud, sudden sound. 

"Yeah," the younger agrees mindlessly, eyes now glued to your ass as you open the driver's door. 

"Idiot," his partner hisses, backhanding him. "Don't fucking agree, now she's gonna report you for sexual harrassment!" 

"She started it!" 

While the pair are arguing, you take the chance to climb into your car and drive off with a pleased little cackle at causing the most chaos you could with so little to work with.

At the end of the street, Seungcheol kicks the back of your seat. You don't need to look at him to know he's glaring at you, you can feel the burn of his gaze on the side of your face. You love it.

"Now now, Mr Choi, please respect my car," he kicks the seat again making you snicker. "So ungrateful, I just saved you from being locked in an interrogation room for 24 hours. You'd think you'd be at least a little appreciative." 

"Like fuck am I," he grunts and shuffles closer to the criss cross of bars separating the two halves of the car. "Didn't have to be so fucking rough, you bitch." You lift your eyes to the rearview mirror to meet his gaze and grin smugly at him before returning your gaze to the road in front of you. "Sick fuck, you get off on it, don't you?" 

"Damn right," you confirm shamelessly with an almost twisted smirk. "Big boss man on his knees for ickle ol' me. Gets me all warm and tingly, Cheolie." 

"How many times have I got to tell you not to fucking call me that?" He's too close to the front seats to kick them again but he does knee the back of yours where his legs are spread as wide as possible in his pale ripped jeans to allow him so close. 

Fuck, you wish you could see his thighs right now. You quickly look over at him to test your range of sight but the fucking seats are in the way. Dammit. 

You sigh and turn back to the road forlornly. "Well, maybe if you ever punish me like you claim you will and then never stick to it, I might learn my lesson."

"You'd fucking like it," he grumbles. You just grin. Yeah, you definitely would. "Pull over and uncuff me." 

"Nope."

"I'm warning you, little one," 

"Pretty sure I'm the one in charge here," you chirp, unaffected by his low, warning tone. Though a second later you're choking on a laugh when his body jerks forward due to you suddenly breaking to join the queue of traffic at a red light. Seungcheol's forehead slams into the grate making him swear harshly. "Oops," you offer with false innocence and a big grin.

"You fucking-" he starts harshly, only to cut off when you pull away rapidly at the green light, sending him toppling back in the seats and cutting off with a surprised sound. You don't stop yourself from laughing that time.

"Now, here's what's gonna happen, Cheolie," you declare when you turn around in your seat to look at where the big gang boss is sitting quietly in the back seat, hands still cuffed behind him between his thick body and the backrest. His thick legs spread with his slouched position. 

Man, he's so fucking thick. You know it's true all over his body. You've conveniently walked in on him fucking enough people to know that the man's blessed with a diabolically thick cock too. 

Not forgetting the memorable time he didn't notice your very obvious spy camera in his bedroom for a full two months. For two glorious months you got to watch him wrap a hand around his cock and cum over his chest in live action and automatically recorded for your rewatch pleasure. 

You've never been more glad that he has a strict policy of not taking anyone to his home to fuck, you quite enjoyed his solo sessions and still watch them regularly. 

In fact, you had been watching one while spread over your own bed when the scanner had caught your attention. You didn't even have the chance to clean up, your thighs are still sticky. But that could also just be from having Seungcheol in handcuffs.

"You happened to interrupt my favourite hobby by almost getting arrested and making me come to your rescue." 

"If you say you were watching those fucking videos again-" he starts.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't increase your security and make it harder for me to put up new cameras." 

"I did that so I don't have your perverted ass watching me in my private spaces!" He barks. "I swear, one day I'm going to actually choke you," 

"Do it," the sparkle in your eyes makes Seungcheol groan in frustration and tip his head back, eyes closing as he prays to a god he doesn't believe in for strength to handle you and your endless depravities. "Question," 

"What?" He sighs and lifts his head to look at you resignedly. After knowing you for so many years, he knows it's just easier to play along unless he wants to deal with you badgering him for the rest of the day. 

"Would you use your hands to choke me?" 

"What else?" 

"Your thighs-" 

"Shut up," he groans and pushes himself further upright. "Can you go a single day without making a remark about my thighs?" 

"No. Can you crush my head between them like you did that watermelon?" 

"I should've never done that. I thought playing along would make you shut the fuck up asking but no, you're even worse." 

"I appreciate art and those thighs, Choi Seungcheol are pure fucking art." 

"We have very different definitions of art," he deadpans. 

"Yes, I know," you roll your eyes. "You like silicone and spray tan," 

"Do I?" He raises an amused eyebrow at you when you look at him suspiciously.

"Every woman I've seen you fuck are more silicone than my dildo collection." 

"Not gonna comment on the collection," he mutters, looking more like he's convincing himself that his curiosity at how extensive your collection may be is not worth actually engaging you in a discussion about your sex life, which he knows heavily involves masturbating to those videos of him masturbating. 

"Do you want to see?" You offer brightly. "I have one that I think could compare to your cock," your gaze drops down to his crotch where there's an obvious bulge that you know is him flaccid. "Maybe..." you suck on your bottom lip thoughtfully as your mind runs wild with memories of the sight of his cock peeking through his fist as he chases his high. Or wrapped in rubber as he bent another woman with fake tits over his desk, or face first against a too-rough wall to take what he wants. 

You really don't know how he can claim to not have a type when you truly have only seen him actually having sex with one type of woman. You've seen him seduce and hit on a wide range of people, not even just women, but that's always to get his way and he doesn't fuck them, even if he does sometimes make out with them just to win them over.

"Stop thinking about my cock," Seungcheol deadpans, snapping you back to reality and looking up at him, though your gaze darts back down realising there's a change in the bulge. "Don't-"

"Are you getting hard?!" You gasp, shuffling onto your knees excitedly and gripping the grate. 

"No." 

"Liar," you grin, eyes sparkling. 

Seungcheol knows he's done for now; for years you've been trying to fuck him and now, now he's actually lost his usual firm grip on his own libido and let you see that he's not actually turned off by you in any way. 

"So, what's going to happen, Cheolie-" he swears at you, head tipping back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course, you ignore the interruption. "Seeing as you ruined my me-time, I'm going to come back there-" 

"And uncuff me." 

"No, silly boy," you giggle. "And ride your giant cock." 

Seungcheol curses under his breath and swallows before lifting his head to look at you.

For a few moments, you both just stare at each other. You, in wait for permission, because although you do a lot of questionable shit you'd never physically force yourself on anyone, and Seungcheol, clearly in thought.

"Get back here," he decides in a low, rough tone that makes your lower stomach twist and squeeze with genuine aroused excitement. 

"Fuck yeah," you exhale, climbing out of the car where minutes ago you parked in one of the many empty warehouses belongings to Seungcheol’s gang. 

Seungcheol watches through the window as you make short work of kicking off your shoes and removing your trousers and panties. He tries to look at you properly but that stupid fucking police uniform shirt you're wearing hangs to the top of your thighs and makes it so that he can't see shit. Not even once you've got the back door open and crawl into the backseat. 

"You got a condom?" He asks, letting out a harsh exhale when you start to palm at his cock without warning. 

"Nope," You shrug carelessly and use your free hand to open his belt before working on the button and zipper. "Got a problem with that?" 

"Fucking you raw?" You hum in confirmation and reluctantly let go of his cock so that you can yank down his jeans and boxers. Seungcheol helpfully lifts his hips off of the seat, leaning back onto his shoulders against the backrest for balance to let you get the clothing down to his knees and reveal his rapidly-hardening cock to your greedy gaze. "You may be fucking psychotic at the best of the times and fucking weirdly obsessed with me-" 

"Hey," you complain, pouting at him offendedly.

"Are you really pouting at me for calling you psychotic?" He deadpans in disbelief. He's called you worse before, much worse and you usually just giggle and act like he's given you a giant compliment. 

"What? No," you scoff and move over to straddle his thighs. "It's you saying weirdly obsessed as if you're not the single hottest person I've ever met. How dare you?"

Seungcheol licks his lips and looks down to watch at what he thought was you making a move to ride his cock like you said you would. But no, you adjust your position at the last second and sit right on his left thigh. 

"You're so fucking wet," he comments, voice thick with arousal and awe. His mouth drops open a little when you drag your slick pussy over his thigh and smear wetness over bare skin. "Fuck," 

"This is what you do to me, Cheolie," you complain and wrap your hand around his cock roughly. He groans and tips his head forward, thunking his forehead on your shoulder as you jerk him in time with the drag of your pussy up and down his thigh while he tenses it to make his muscles bulge and give you something firmer to grind your clit down on. 

It feels better than you could’ve imagined and you’ve fantasised about riding Seungcheol’s beefy thighs more times than you can count.

"You're so fucking shameless," he grunts after a moment of just watching your movements. You're torturing him with the too-rough, slow pull of your palm against his cock, never close enough to the top to catch any of the precum that's starting to dribble down the side. 

"For you, not anyone else," 

"You're going to give me a giant head," 

"It'll match your cock." 

Seungcheol huffs a laugh and lifts his head to look at you. "You gonna sit on it then?" 

"I'd love to, but you didn't actually say you're okay with not using a condom. I know you always do with those women." 

"You're not them," it's perhaps the softest fucking thing Seungcheol has ever said to you. Your movements slow to a stop as you stare at him in surprise. "I trust you with every fucking aspect of the gang, trust you to back me up more than I do anyone else. You think I'd put my life in your hands and not the health of my dick?" He scoffs. "I trust you to not do this if you have anything you could pass on and I know I sure as fuck don't." 

"And what if you knock me up?" Seungcheol raises his eyebrows at you bewilderedly, barely even noticing that you've stopped grinding on his thigh and have moved over to hover over his cock. "What?" 

Seungcheol opens his mouth to respond but you decide to drop down onto his cock, letting his thick length split you open harshly as you both moan at the sudden friction. "Fuck!" He exclaims, head tipped back and eyes screwed shut. "You-you fucking idiot," he lifts his head to look at you. "You didn't even take it slow! You could get fucking hurt!" 

"Good, I like it," you smirk, proud of yourself for getting the usually so put-together man so worked up. There's something beautifully wild in his dark eyes and a pretty pink smeared over his cheeks. 

You really wish you hadn’t left your phone in your trousers, you’d love to take a photo of him right now. You’d put it as your lock screen and he’d probably threaten to beat your ass if you don’t remove it, yet he never follows through with his threats to you.

"You're fucking crazy," 

"Yep." You grin and grind down against him, breath catching as his cock presses against multiple sensitive spots inside you that has you repeating the swirl of your hips again and again and again.

"Fu-fuck, just ride me, shit," he groans, trying to urge you to bounce by thrusting his hips up against you. 

"Don't you like this?" You pout at him, faux-offended and keep at it. You know he likes it. It's clear by the tightness of his expression; the pleasure is clear in his furrowed brows and tense jaw, shoulders pressed back against the seat and biceps bulging as he tries to free himself from the cuffs. 

You really hope he doesn't break them, you really fucking like him like this. Then again, the thought of Seungcheol using his stupidly beefy arms to break free from his binds so that he can grab your hips and force you to take the pummelling of his giant dick against your pussy walls, well that's a real fucking nice thought. 

It makes you clench down on him and he moans, head tipping back and showing you the unblemished expanse of his throat. You wonder if he'd let you bite him. 

"Can I bite you?" You ask, falling still. 

"What the fuck?" He looks at you as if you're insane. Which, not exactly a new expression on the man when he's faced with you. But this time he looks utterly offended too. 

"Is that a no?" You pout.

"I don't give a fuck, just keep going!" He demands, looking crazed. 

"Can I kiss you too?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes and instead of verbally responding he tilts forward to crash his lips to yours, desperation urging him to kiss you in such a filthy way that your pussy throbs. 

"Bounce," he growls against your lips before letting out a string of almost whispered praise when you obey and start to lift and drop yourself, finally riding his cock like both of you have been wanting for admittedly, longer than he's been in cuffs.

To your surprise, Seungcheol keeps kissing you and chases your lips every time you lean back or turn your head for breath, or just because you think he probably wants to stop and focus on your pussy dragging up and down his cock, soaking him with every wet smack of your thighs against his. 

"Che-cheol," you pant out, knotting your fingers in his head to force him back and allow you to actually breathe. He moans deeply and his eyes roll back. Very interesting reaction indeed. 

You never took Seungcheol to like having his hair pulled, but the filthy moans he lets out every time you experimentally tighten or yank on the strands now you've got the idea in your head, tell you that the man really fucking likes it. Not even mentioning how he fucks up into you harder every time too. 

"Good boy," you compliment breathlessly, looking down at his cock sliding into you as you pretty much just hover over him now, more interested in finding out what makes him tick and turns him on than actually riding him. Not that you need to when he's doing a good enough job fucking you even with his arms restrained. 

You just know he'd ruin you if he had full use of his body. He'd ruin you and you'd thank him for it and ask to repeat it every fucking day. He could break your hips and you'd thank him. 

"Oh, fuck I-I'm gonna cum," he warns making your eyes widen in alarm.

"No!" 

Seungcheol opens his eyes to look at you with equally as wide eyes yet doesn't stop fucking into you. "The fuck you mean no?" 

"You can't cum yet! I'm not done!" 

"I'm gonna-" 

"No!" 

"Fuck," his eyes roll back and he lets out a string of porn-worthy moans as he jerks up into you a few times harshly while filling you with cum. 

You can only gawp at him in disbelief, one hand still in his hair and the other braced on his heaving chest. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" You exclaim, slapping his chest as he slouches against the seat while trying to catch his breath back. "You useless man!" You pinch his nipple where it's pressing against his t-shirt making him yelp and shoot his eyes open to look at you.

"What the fuck?" 

"What kind of a gang boss are you, huh?" You berate, climbing off of him and wincing at the feel of his softening cock slipping out of you, trailing cum with it. You don't even care that it's getting all over him and the seats as you move. "To bust in minutes, you that pussy whipped, Choi Seungcheol?" You tut and shove him down on the seats. 

"Ow, you fucking-" he cuts off, awkwardly wriggling to get on his back instead of laying painfully on his right shoulder. "I'm gonna beat your ass as soon as these cuffs are off, bitch," he warns, watching you with dark eyes, half warning, half aroused, as you clamber over his body. 

"Ooh, call me more names, my likey," you wiggle your eyebrows at him as you plant your knees either side of his face. 

It visibly takes everything in Seungcheol to keep his eyes on your face and not look at your pussy that's inches from his face and dripping cum down your slick inner-thighs. "You're clinically fucking insane, aren't you?" 

"I work for you, comes with the job," you coo, leaning over to plant your left hand on the door above his head to get your balance, your right hand knotting into his hair making him let out a groan that travels through your body as your pussy meets his parted lips. "Now, make me cum like a good boy, Cheolie," 

To your utter delight, the words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol's tongue is dragging through your folds, uncaring that he's swallowing down his own cum as he enthusiastically starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Honestly, you've never seen Seungcheol do this. You've never known if he's the type of man to eat pussy and if so, if he does it as a means to get his dick wet or because he actually enjoys it. But now? Now you fucking know. 

Seungcheol is making more noise than you are as he greedily laps and sucks at your pussy, alternating between thrusting his tongue into your hole and suckling on your clit. You swear, the man is determined to suck your soul out through your clit, he's not gentle about it at all but you can't lie, you really fucking enjoy the rough, messy actions.

"T-that's it," you encourage when his tongue is back inside of you as deep as he can get it to lick at your inner walls greedily, nose grinding against your clit with every movement of his head and his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

His face is buried so deep between your thighs that you're positive he can't breathe but even when you loosen your hold on his hair and stop moving your hips against his face to let him have space, he dives in even deeper somehow. 

The pure unfiltered enthusiasm he devours your pussy with sends you hurtling to a powerful orgasm that takes you a bit by surprise when he gets a little too into it and his teeth drag over your skin. You didn't know you like that, but now you certainly do as you shudder and gasp over him, fingers tightening in his hair and letting the vibration of his groans and moans help ride you through as you smother him in your pussy. 

Your legs feel like jelly when you shakily clamber off of his face and drop to sit on his still exposed thighs. His cock is making a valiant effort to get hard again. It's very distracting but you're both breathing too hard and trying to remember how to get air into your lungs to even consider going for round two. Well, mostly. 

"Please tell me you have a key for these," Seungcheol says once he's caught his breath a few minutes later, still laid back with his eyes closed. 

"No," you snigger at the pissed off look he gives you as he lifts his head enough to look at you. "Since when have I needed keys to open locks?" 

"Good point," he drops back down, though immediately lifts his head again when you dance your fingers teasingly over his semi-erect dick. "Don't." 

"Why not?" You pout and wrap your hand around his cock, thumbing at the head a little harshly but he clearly likes it judging by the way he gets harder in your hold and hisses, hips pushing up automatically to encourage you.

"Because I'll fucking dislocate my shoulders," he points out, trying to roll his shoulders but not really doing a good job thanks to his forced position. "And I can't hold you down and fuck you if my arms don't fucking work, can I?" 

"You actually want to do that?" 

"Always have," he shrugs and slumps in relief when you let go of him and shuffle back. 

"No, you've never wanted to fuck me." You frown confusedly at him as he sits up with a few little grunts from the effort and release of pressure against his arms from being laid on them. 

"I've always wanted to fuck your insane ass, which I guess makes me insane too. I know you're into some fucked up shit, I've seen the porn you watch." 

"Don't kinkshame me," 

"Don't fucking use my computer to watch porn then!" 

"But your office chair is big enough that I can spread my legs comfortably on to touch myself." 

"You've masturbated in my office chair?" He deadpans, looking unimpressed. Yet when you nod in confirmation, you notice the flicker of arousal in his gaze. "Great, now I'm going to be thinking about that when I'm supposed to be working." 

"You can always call me and I'll happily sit under your desk with your cock in my mouth, keep it warm and ready to sit on when you're done working." 

"This is why I never fucking let you know." He shuffles towards the still open door, making you back out until you're standing on still slightly trembling legs. "Knew I'd never be able to stop once I had you." Seungcheol gets out of the car and turns his back to you. "Get these off me so I can bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk." 

"Don't need to tell me twice," you quickly grab your lock-picking set from your trouser pocket before kneeling down behind Seungcheol to unpick the cuffs. 

It takes you longer than it should to pick the lock because you're very distracted by his bare, plump ass right in front of your face. As soon as he moves his hands to roll his shoulders and rub his red-raw wrists, you lean forward and bite his asscheek.

"What the fuck?!" He shrieks, jolting away and turning to face you with wide eyes and red cheeks. "Did you just bite my ass?" 

"Yes," your confirmation is utterly shameless as you stare up at him from still on your knees. 

Seungcheol stares back at you for a moment, before sliding his hand into your hair and tugging you forward, smirking as your mouth opens wide to accept his cock without question or complaint. 

"Good girl," he breathes out as you immediately start to suck and lick at him, humming and making appreciative noises at having his cock in your mouth finally. It's only taken five years.

Though Seungcheol doesn't let you enjoy him as thoroughly as you'd like. As soon as his tip touches your throat at your attempt to start deepthroating him, he pulls you off and yanks you up. 

You're not given time to even complain or whine, or beg for his cock back, before he's got you with your hands on the roof of the car and chest bowing into the open doorway so that he can grind his cock against your still sopping wet pussy. 

"You never explained the knocked up comment," he informs as he crowds up against your back, one big hand holding your wrists by the edge of the roof and the other gripping your hip tight. 

"What?" 

"You said about me getting you knocked up." 

"And?" 

"We both got done, on the same fucking day, remember? We’re medically infertile," He nips at your earlobe on the harder side and grins smugly when your breath catches and you press back against his cock. 

"Never heard of a breeding kink, Cheolie?" 

"Huh, you're into that?" 

"I'm into anything if it's you." 

He pauses his movements, lips parted against your ear for a few seconds before he suddenly lets go of your hip and pulls his own back to grab his cock and lead it to your entrance. He feeds it into you just far enough that he can let go and take your hip back into his hold before he thrusts forward, burying his cock into you in one quick, hard thrust. It jolts you forward and makes you moan loudly.

"Gonna fill you up every fucking day, baby," he promises, sounding far more affected than he did moments ago. "Gonna fill you with my cum until it sticks. Gonna breed you so fucking good, yeah?" 

"Fuck, yeah, yeah, fuck me full, Cheolie," you agree, nodding madly and arching your back to push back against him while widening your stance to get him deeper, even if it means you have to push up onto your tiptoes to account for the height difference. 

"That's my good fucking girl," he approves, pushing your shirt up and holding it at your waist to give him full view of your ass as he begins to fuck into you harshly. 

Honestly, you have no idea if you're truly alone in the warehouse, you know that various gang members use the warehouses for meets and their own trysts but you do not give a single flying fuck. 

You moan loud and shameless as Seungcheol fucks all thoughts from your head. He clearly doesn't care if anyone hears either, he moans and grunts without care, growling dirty words at you that you can barely babble a response at with the quickly growing pleasure in your body. 

“Never letting anyone touch this pussy again,” he declares in amongst his moans and panting, not slowing down once in his determination to ruin you. “You’re mine, understand?” 

You nod rapidly but can’t answer as that ball of pleasure in your belly clenches so tightly at his possessive words. As soon as his palm comes down on your ass with the intention of prompting you to verbally respond, that ball bursts; sending pleasure through your whole body and making your consistent moans turn higher in pitch, babbling his name repeatedly as your pussy convulses around his still-pistoning cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fucking into you a few more times before he slows to a gradual stop. You can feel that he’s still hard within you and whine a little, pushing your hips back against him to try and get him back to work. “You’re shaking,” he points out, pulling out and carefully helping you down onto flat feet, taking some pressure off of your thighs. You melt back against him when he winds his arms around your waist supportively and kisses your head. 

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes as you catch your breath back and your body stops shaking like a fucking leaf. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, lips trailing over your cheek and temple. It’s much too tender. You like it, yeah, but you hadn’t been prepared for the care he’s giving you. 

He has always cussed at you and called you names with disturbed expressions. You’ve never cared about that, the names and harsh words have truly never bothered you and amused you more than anything. Seungcheol has never actually hurt you even when he’s slapped you away from him or thrown items at you, he has always purposely near-missed you. His aim is too good to unintentionally miss you all the time.

But this, the fingers trailing over you mindlessly, the lips brushing against your skin and the words spoken in a fond voice you’ve never fucking heard the man use, well that’s a lot to take in.

“No,” you reply.

“Oh, what can I do? Did I hurt-” 

“You can go back to fucking me,” 

“You’re still shaking,” 

“That’s because you were doing a good job! Gold star Seungcheol!” 

“What happened to Cheolie?” 

“You don’t even fucking like it!” You groan and wriggle out of his arms with every intention of pushing him away and getting your clothes back on but he pulls you right back in, chest to chest and looks at you so devastatingly fucking adoringly your breath catches in your throat in a giant ball of what the fuck Choi Seungcheol.

“I like it,” he murmurs. “I like it because it’s you. I just…couldn’t let you know that.” 

“And now you can? You fucked me and now suddenly everything changes?” 

“You wanted things to be the same?” He frowns, hurt trickling onto his expression as his arms fall away from you. 

“I thought it was just sex,” you admit.

“Right,” he scoffs, yanking his boxers and jeans up as he steps away from you, dick sadly deflated despite being hard and pressed against your ass a minute ago. “See this is why I never fucking wanted this!” He exclaims, turning angry now as he reaches down to grab your panties and trousers to toss at you harshly. You wince when the police-issue gun and holster smack into your ribs. 

Seungcheol pauses for a split second noticing that he hurt you but then he carries on, throwing your boots at you next. You don’t even bother trying to catch them and let them collide painfully with your thighs then topple down, the hard edges of the soles sending pain through the tops of your feet.

“Why are you just fucking standing there?!” He snaps, stalking over to yank the items from your hands and get to his knees to roughly force your feet into the trousers and panties at once. 

“Seungcheol-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. For the first time, you listen to him.

A few minutes later, you’re in the passenger seat of the car as Seungcheol drives recklessly through the back streets. You don’t even have it in you to tell him to slow down because you both would get arrested and you don’t think even his lawyers could talk him out of getting locked up for driving a fake police car with fake licence plates and over the speed limits without either of you wearing seat belts.

He drives to a side street behind his apartment building and doesn’t even put the car in park, just stops it and gets out, slamming the door behind him before storming off. You take it for the harsh dismissal it is and climb over the centre console to get into the drivers’ seat to head off.

For the first time in years, you don’t see Seungcheol for days. You don’t think it’s wise to test him right now. You still don’t think he’d hurt you, but you think your presence would hurt him and you don’t want that. 

Despite what Seungcheol obviously thinks, and with good reason too because you didn’t say anything otherwise, you do care about the man. A hell of a fucking lot. 

It wasn’t instant, there wasn’t a moment where your eyes locked across the table on that set-up blind-date between you that was really both of your little groups of criminals and deviants trying to get information on the other group. You had both clocked each other and although it could’ve gone badly, Seungcheol had asked you to team up on a job and the gang was born shortly after.

Your connection was about work from day one, but spending time with the man even when he told you to fuck off when you would jokingly hit on him, it kind of really gave you a giant fucking weak spot in the shape of his stupid, charming face. 

The relentless flirting and sexual remarks, although they are all genuine, became your way to hide the truth of your feelings. Lean into lust to hide the love. It just seems that it worked too fucking well. 

You had honestly forgotten that the flutter in your stomach when your eyes meet Seungcheol’s isn’t all lust; that it isn’t just horny little demons running rampant and trying to tell you to get his cock in you, but butterflies too. Excited, pretty little butterflies flapping their wings and trying to lift you up into the clouds to where you and Seungcheol can skip merrily through the meadows together hand in hand like that scene in Shrek before the villagers chased the ogres down with pitchforks. 

But that isn’t realistic. You can’t skip hand in hand through a meadow, mostly because Seungcheol has damaged his knees from throwing himself around too much to skip anywhere, though it would be funny to watch his hobbling attempt. 

Well, at least up until a few days ago you thought it wasn’t realistic. You didn’t think Seungcheol had anything but a respect for you as one of his gang members and a good fucking one too. He often turns to you to get shit done when others have failed or if it’s too risky, too important to send others in, you’re the one he goes to. You thought that’s all your relationship equates to.

But apparently, you haven’t paid enough attention to Seungcheol to have missed the man apparently having some kind of feelings for you. 

You’re not going to assume he’s in love with you, it’s now obvious to you that he holds some kind of candle for you, but you’re not naive or hopeless enough to assume his tender touches that turned to hurt anger, to be love.

Choi Seungcheol likes you. Romantically. Sexually too. That part was great, top marks. Gold star indeed. If that’s all it had been, you’re pretty sure you’d have been spread over his desk every day since or tucked under it like you offered to cockwarm him with your mouth. That would’ve been great.

But nope, feelings. And not the touching each other up kind of ones.

All in all, it’s a giant fucking shitshow and not in the way you purposely orchestrate for your own twisted amusement. You hope things will fix themselves shortly because you don’t know how much more of this you can handle. But honestly, you really don’t think they will.

“So,” Minghao starts as he invites himself to join you in the car you’ve borrowed for the fun of it. You look at him with noodles hanging out of your mouth and wide eyes. “What the fuck did you do to piss Seungcheol off so much?” 

“Me?” You garble around your food still hanging out of your mouth and pointing at your own chest. The look the man gives you is utterly disgusted and it makes you snigger before you actually chew and swallow your food. “Why do you assume I did something to piss him off?” 

“Maybe the fact you haven’t been around in a week and every time I’ve suggested he asks for your help like we need, he pretends to have never heard of you while breaking yet another fucking pen in his fist.”

“Sounds like you need to stop getting cheap pens,” you mutter, reaching for your drink in the cup holder but he takes it. 

You watch as Minghao noisily slurps up the liquid through the straw, defiantly holding eye contact with you. But then he gags and quickly puts the cup in your awaiting hand so that he can turn, open the car door and spit the drink out onto the parking lot of the restaurant you’re parked in to enjoy your lunch. 

“What the fuck is in that?!” He shrieks when he’s done sputtering, turning to look at you with wide eyes behind his wire-framed glasses. 

“Coke,”

“That is not coke,” 

“Both kinds, and mint schnapps,” 

“I fucking hate you.” 

“Valid.” You nod and slurp at your unholy concoction. 

It wasn’t even your choice, you accidentally dropped a badly sealed baggie of the white powder into your cup when you tipped the contents of the hip flask from the glovebox into the cup. You had assumed it was whiskey or vodka or something normal, not fucking mint schnapps of all things. That’s what you get for tipping out the contents of a stolen hip flask from a stolen car into your drink without at least giving it a cursory sniff-test first. 

Minghao watches you with something like fear on his features as you don’t even flinch at the truly disgusting flavour that coats your tongue. You’ve had worse things in your mouth, you can say that much. 

Mostly thanks to Soonyoung’s own habit of shoving any food and drink into his mouth to consume like some kind of tastebud-less heathen. There’s probably a reason you’ve been friends for so long. One that doesn’t involve a bloodpact you made as idiot children that you’re both too stubborn to turn your back on first.

“So, what did you do? Ask to put something questionable in his ass?” Minghao soldiers on as he steals the unopened chocolate bar from the dashboard to open and bite into, looking very relieved at having the haunting taste of your drink covered by the sweet on his tongue. “Ask him to put something questionable in your ass?” 

“No,” you scoff, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Minghao pauses in his rapid chewing to watch you consideringly. He’s never seen you like this, like you have actual human emotions beside lust and maniacal joy at making others suffer in various ways borne of your chaotic ideas. 

“It’s serious,” he realises in a mutter. You shrug and give up with your lunch, suddenly not hungry for it and pass it over to him so that you can start the car up. “What happened?” 

“What’s the job?” You ask as you drive out of the lot in a way that closes the car door he hadn’t fully closed. The slam of the door makes Minghao jolt, he had forgotten it was even open and rolls his eyes a little at you not asking him to shut it before driving off. 

“He’s dealing with it,” 

“That’s stupid if you think I should be doing it.” 

“Yeah, well, according to him, you don’t exist so he’s the best chance.” 

“If you wanted to send me in, that means it requires a delicate touch-” 

“You set a warehouse on fire last month, that’s not a delicate touch.” 

“That wasn’t for a job, that was for fun, leave me alone.” 

“You…whatever. He can handle the job, it’s just a different direction than you’d take.” 

“Has he gone in fists swinging?” 

“No. He’s seducing someone for information.” 

“Ah, dick swinging,” you mutter, feeling a sourness in your chest and rising up your throat. You’ve not felt this before when you’ve heard of Seungcheol seducing someone to get the job done. 

You haven’t even felt it when you’ve literally walked in on him balls-deep in some woman over his desk; you would just stand there until he noticed you, then annoy him by dragging out whatever it was you turned up for. It was all fun and games. This burning tickling your throat isn’t.

Jealousy is not something you’re familiar with and you immediately decide you hate it.

“You know he doesn’t…” he trails off, expression twisting as he recalls something based on his expression. “Well, usually he doesn’t fuck his marks but-” 

“What?!” You exclaim, slamming on the breaks and looking at Minghao with crazed eyes. 

Minghao yells which only grows when a car audibly swerves behind you to not rear-end you. “Fucking drive you idiot!” 

“He’s fucked the mark?” You ask, voice eerily level in a way that makes Minghao look at you and swallow thickly. 

For the first time, Minghao is genuinely scared of you. He knows you are an unhinged, unrelenting mess at the best of times and in a way, you do always scare him because he never knows what you’re going to do. You could easily hurt him or anyone but you haven’t, you’re usually too busy making sexual remarks to Seungcheol, or someone about Seungcheol, loudly enough that the man himself can clearly hear. 

And Minghao knows you’re a competent fighter, he’s seen proof of it but he’s never seen you fight yourself. He’s never seen you look so serious and pissed before either.

The carnage he’s seen the after effects of, the destruction you’ve caused, yet you’ve always had a grin on your face afterwards as if you’ve just been to an amusement park and had the time of your life splattered with blood. He knows how much damage you can cause in a good mood. So Minghao is genuinely terrified of what hell you can create when you’re in a foul mood, and right now? He thinks you would burn the world down and anyone who gets in your way.

“He-he hasn’t but he said he will if he needs to.” 

“Where is he?” 

The apartment you let yourself into is familiar and really not where you expected to end up when Minghao had given you his phone to let you use the app he and Seungcheol use to track each other. You hadn’t known about this app and you can only assume Seungcheol had made sure you didn’t know so that you couldn’t use it to stalk him. Which…valid worry. You definitely would’ve stalked him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand as you step into the living room and find Seungcheol slouched on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other and balanced on his thick thigh. 

“This is my home,” he points out. “The fuck are you doing here?” 

“Where is she?” You ask, peering around before inviting yourself to walk through the apartment, slamming open doors to rooms as you go in search of the woman Seungcheol was seducing for information. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He retorts, following after you once he’s put the glass and bottle down on the coffee table. “Who?” 

“The mark, Hao said you were planning to fuck her for information.” 

“And you thought I’d bring her here?” 

“Well how the fuck should I know?!” You turn to face him. “You don’t fuck your marks, Seungcheol! But you were going to, or have…” You eye him over, black shirt unbuttoned to his chest tucked into black trousers that show off his thick thighs and plump ass. Trousers you’ve told him you hold he never stops wearing, and then he promptly did stop to your disappointment. At least you thought he had. 

“I didn’t,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets after they twitch at his sides.

“No?” You lift your gaze up to meet his eyes, or at least try to but he’s pointedly looking at the wall beside your left shoulder. “Did you get what you needed without fucking her?” 

“No,” he admits and tenses his jaw a few times.

“Then what?” 

“I don’t want to fuck her! I thought I could do it but I can’t.” He huffs and turns to storm back to the living room. Of course, you follow and watch as he downs the contents of his glass before pouring out more. 

“Why did you suddenly think you could when you’ve never wanted to fuck for a job? You said that to me before, that you don’t ever want to fuck for work.” 

“Because…it doesn’t fucking matter,”

“Obviously it does.” You walk over and take the glass from him after he’s swallowed down the contents again. “This isn’t you, Seungcheol. I’m the one who drinks at 1pm, not you.” 

“Well maybe I should be allowed to be the fucked up asshole for once, huh?” He stares down at you darkly. “Why are you allowed to be a fuck up and I can’t?” 

“Because you’re better than me, you always have been.” You pick up the bottle and turn to take it to the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises as he follows you. “I don’t mean that, you’re not a fuck up.” 

“I am, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it, Seungcheol so-” 

“Please stop calling me that,” he breathes out. 

You finish putting the lid on the bottle and put it in the liquor cabinet before putting the dirty glass in the dishwasher, and then you turn to look at him while leaning back against the counter behind you with your arms crossed loosely over your chest. 

He looks…sad. You hate it.

“That’s your name, that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what you’ve been trying to get me to call you for years.” 

“And you never fucking listened. Can’t…can’t we go back to that?” 

“I don’t know, can we?” 

Seungcheol does nothing but look at you for what feels like more than enough time for him to come to a definite answer hours ago. But he just keeps looking at you with those giant sad fucking eyes and his fingers gripping the edge of the island counter in front of him as if he needs to hold on to something and what he wants to hold isn’t in reach. 

“I can try,” he offers. “Can you?” 

“I’m not the one who has been denying the other’s existence,” 

“You’re not the one who got their heart broken,” he retorts sharply before taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes. A clear sign of trying to calm himself. “No, I can’t, I can’t do this,” he decides, opening his eyes to land them back on you. “You need to leave.” 

“For how long?” 

“This is my apartment-” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you uncross your arms and walk the few steps to the island in front of you, on Seungcheol’s adjacent right and close enough that either of you could easily reach out and touch. Neither of you do. “I’ll leave your apartment, I won’t argue about leaving now. But I need to know if this is the end of everything, Seungcheol. The past five years of working together, does it end now?” 

“Is that all you care about? The fucking gang? Not our relationship? But the fucking gang?” 

“That is our relationship,” you give him a bewildered look. “Before last week there’s never been anything but the gang.” 

“You’re serious,” he mutters in disbelief. 

“Well, yeah,”

“Get out.” 

“That doesn’t answer-” 

“Are you seriously that fucking stupid?!” He snaps, poking his own head. “You got nothing going on up here past work, huh?” 

You just stare at him, not sure how to respond because admittedly, the things he’s been saying to you today have been hurting. Five years of insults and degrading names hasn’t once bothered you. But he’s never said hurtful things like this before.

“How Soonyoung has put up with you for so fucking long is beyond me.” He scoffs and steps back, away from you with a nasty expression on his face, eyes dark and cold in a way he has never looked at you. “He must be as fucking stupid as you.” 

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” you warn, your own expression turning hard in defence of your best friend. “Say whatever you want about me but do not say a bad word against him.” 

“Why not? Hurt your feelings?” He taunts. “Didn’t know you have those. Sure fucking fooled me.” 

“Of course I have feelings, you dick, some of us just know how to keep them to ourselves and not let them rule our mouths.” 

“Well you’ve kept yours really fucking close, great fucking job there. Gold fucking star. You’ve kept to yourself so much nobody knows shit about how you feel. I thought I did but obviously I was fucking wrong.” He turns to walk off yet turns back around and stalks right back to lean his palms on the counter and stare intently at you. “Just tell me this, did I ever mean fucking anything to you? Did you ever even think of me as a friend? I thought you did but you’ve dismissed this so fucking easily, you’re so fucking willing to walk away and only ask about the gang that I’m pretty sure I’ve been a naive fucking idiot this whole time.” 

“Friends?” You mumble in surprise because honestly, you’ve never thought of Seungcheol as your friend. You’ve never tried to name what he is to you but you’re not sure you could if you tried. 

Soonyoung is your friend, even Minghao you’d consider a friend. But Seungcheol? Perhaps at one point you could’ve thought of him in such a way but now you’ve been pushing down your true feelings for him for so long that you don’t even know how to classify him. Friend doesn’t feel right. 

“Yes, friends, you know, people you like being around, people you can talk to about stuff other than work, get a drink with and have fun with.” 

“Have we ever done any of that?” You genuinely wonder quietly. 

You watch as the realisation dawns on Seungcheol and his anger melts into something pained. “No,” he admits quietly. “We haven’t.”

“Well, I guess there’s the answer,” you mumble, chest aching at what you know this means. That you and Seungcheol have never truly had a relationship of any kind outside of work. You’ve never realised that before, never before had to consider what that means. You wish you had, maybe then things now would be different.

“Right,” he huffs a humourless laugh as he backs up, eyes looking anywhere but you even as he turns. “Show yourself out and don’t…don’t come back.” 

You can’t be certain, he talks too quietly and moves out of the kitchen and down the hall too quickly, but you think you catch the glint of tears on his cheeks.

Weeks pass as you go about your life, as you try to make a new life without Seungcheol or his gang playing such a pivotal part in it. You listened to his wishes, you left and didn’t return, you deleted his number and told Minghao it’s probably wise if he tells everyone that you’ve left the gang and won’t return; and then you deleted and blocked all of their numbers too once they started calling and texting to ask what the fuck happened.

Soonyoung didn’t know what happened at first, but he loyally left the gang too and then you both decided to just get new numbers to avoid the hassle of blocking everyone you’ve ever known in relation to the gang.

And then they started to turn up at your apartments so you packed up and left the city and Soonyoung still didn’t ask what happened. 

Of course, you did tell him though. You told him everything that happened with you and Seungcheol and had to talk Soonyoung down from driving back to the city to try and beat up Seungcheol for the things he said to you in his apartment. 

Try being the keyword, because although Soonyoung is more than a competent fighter and plenty strong enough, one of Seungcheol’s biceps is likely bigger than Soonyoung’s head. 

But Soonyoung did calm enough to slap you around the head and call you an idiot for not telling Seungcheol the truth about your feelings when the man was clearly trying to start a relationship with you after fucking you dumb. You argue that the man had just fucked you dumb so your brain wasn’t working. Soonyoung said your brain doesn’t work full stop. Which…is kind of valid, at least where human relationships are involved.

And that leads us to your new life with your best friend in another town a two hour drive from the city and where Soonyoung has already made friends with a man who it took Soonyoung a worryingly long time to realise is a hooker. 

You quite like his new friend and like to play bodyguard with Soonyoung when Junhui dresses up in expensive clothes to bag expensive clients his pimp sends him to meet. Junhui loves it too; having the two of you dressed up in suits and following behind him to keep him safe. He doesn’t even mind that you both stay at the edge of the room when he gets to work.

“This guy is a friend of Jeonghan’s,” Junhui explains from the backseat of the fancy car you can proudly say you didn’t even steal. Soonyoung stole it. You’re so proud of him. 

“Which is why daddy Hannie is joining,” Soonyoung hums in understanding, nodding his head and almost hitting a lamppost before swerving at the last second after peering over the top of his dark sunglasses. 

“Remove the fucking glasses, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan, Junhui’s pimp, sighs from Junhui’s right with both hands gripping the leather seats under him. Which is very understandable. “And please stop lying to me that you have your driver’s licence.”

“Told you it’s obvious,” you mutter to your best friend who slaps your tit as he childishly mocks you. So you backhand him in the dick making him groan and double over, one hand over his crotch and his other arm hugging the steering wheel he’s leaning his chest against while biting the top of it in pain. 

Junhui sniggers at the antics between you and your best friend, as amused as he ever is by you two. While Jeonghan, not for the first time, wonders what kind of circus Junhui found the pair of you in and if they’d take you back.

“So, what’s the deal with this dude?” You ask a few minutes later when Soonyoung parks over three spaces in the hotel parking lot and Junhui cheers at Soonyoung remembering to apply the breaks in time for once. 

“He’s an old friend in town for business and wants to sweeten the guy he’s meeting tonight, so he asked me to bring my best.” Jeonghan replies while checking he has everything in his pockets by patting his clothing down thoroughly. 

“Aw, Junnie, you’re daddy’s best,” Soonyoung coos, grinning over at Junhui who preens proudly. 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me daddy, Soonyoung. I said that to her, not you.” The pimp points out as you all get out of the car. 

“What’s hers is mine and mine is hers,” your best friend replies airily. 

“You’re married?” 

“What? Ew, gross, no,” Soonyoung retches and then stumbles when you shove him. He collides with the wall of the hotel making you snort a laugh, until he turns and you notice his glasses are broken and can see his unimpressed glare through the missing section of the lens. “I just got these!” He exclaims, taking off the sunglasses and tosses them into the bushes. 

“I’ll get you another pair,” 

“Better do. I want Gucci ones,” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” 

When Jeonghan looks over at the pair of you in the elevator up to the penthouse suite, he has to do a double take at the Gucci sunglasses perched on Soonyoung’s nose. “Where did you get those?” Soonyoung points at you. Jeonghan gives you a flat look. “Well?” 

“They were just sitting there,” you shrug. 

“Where?” 

You stare back at Jeonghan, making your expression innocent knowing how much Jeonghan hates it when you pickpocket people for the fun of it. “Some guy’s head,” 

“You stole sunglasses while someone was wearing them?” 

“It was really impressive,” Soonyoung nods, entirely missing the point of Jeonghan’s gawping. “Jun’s really good at distracting, they make a good team.” 

“You fucking helped?” Jeonghan gawps at Junhui who just smiles sweetly at his pimp. “I’m banning you from hanging out with them.” 

“You’re my daddy not my father,” Junhui scoffs. 

Jeonghan clearly wants to argue more but the ding echoes in the metal box signalling you’ve arrived at the suite, so he just takes a breath and schools his expression in an impressively short time while the doors open. 

Then you four step out into the little lobby before the suite entrance doors and you swear, recognising the suited men standing guard outside of the suite. 

“Oh, fuck,” Soonyoung whispers. 

“You assholes!” One of the men exclaims, stalking over to flying-kick Soonyoung in the back of his thigh. “You fucking ghosted us!” 

“Ow, ow, Kwan, stop it!” Soonyoung cries out, trying to stop Seungkwan’s furious kicks and slaps. “I need my legs to protect my slut!” 

“Hey!” Junhui exclaims and slaps Soonyoung too. “I am not yours.” 

“Ow, attack her!” Soonyoung tries to shove Seungkwan over to you but he takes one look at you and shrinks back before going back to hitting Soonyoung while hissing that you scare him too much to try to hit. 

“Were you part of the gang?” Jeonghan asks, looking at you. 

“You could say that,” you murmur and look over to the grand double doors then back to him. “You’re meeting Seungcheol?” 

“Yes,” 

“We shouldn’t be there, me especially.” 

“Do you owe him money?” 

“No, nothing like that we just…aren’t on good terms, I guess you could say.” 

“Yeah, what happened anyway?” Seungkwan wonders, suddenly at your side and linking his arm with yours. “What’s the gossip?” 

“I assume you enjoy having the use of your hands,” you speak, raising an eyebrow at Seungkwan who backs away with his hands held up in surrender. “Good boy.” 

“How much issue would it cause to take you in there?” Jeonghan asks, looking between you, Soonyoung, Junhui and his watch then the doors and back again.

“Oh, a shit ton,” Soonyoung answers with a hum. “We moved two hours away for a reason,” he face falls and he looks at you with a sad pout. “Do we have to move again now that they know where we live?” 

“No!” Junhui whines, wrapping his arms around you. “You have to stay. You’re my bodyguards! I feel so much safer with you watching over me and I like having you watch too!” 

“You can discuss this later, we need to meet Seungcheol before he gets sulky at us for being late,” Jeonghan sighs, tugging Junhui to his side. “You two wait out here. I’ll have to discuss this with Seungcheol to see if he will be against you doing what I fucking pay you for.” 

“You pay us?” Soonyoung mutters confusedly while you just nod at Jeonghan in agreement so he and Junhui go into the room. “He pays us?” 

It all goes a lot better than you expect. You don’t even need to be in the same room as Seungcheol and, in fact, you don’t even see him until 3 am the next morning when you’re pulling him off of the man he was supposed to be making a business contract with but apparently, Seungcheol found it necessary to beat the shit out of him in the hotel lobby.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask once you’ve got Seungcheol outside and around the side of the building. He’s seething, blood smeared over his hands and splattered on his face. “You were supposed to be making an ally and I thought it was going well! What the fuck happened?!” 

“You! It’s always fucking you!” Seungcheol turns to you and puts a hand on your upper chest to roughly pin you against the wall. You let him. “It was going well until he fucking- why are you even here? You’re not a bodyguard!” 

“Yes I am,” you frown. “I’m here to keep Junhui safe and I’m good at it.” 

“Not in the eyes of assholes like that. You’re just more eye candy bastards like him think they can have. “

“Is that why you beat the shit out of him and ruined the past hours of work? Because he said some remarks about me?” You scoff. “I can handle that, Seungcheol, I-” You cut off when his hand is suddenly at your throat. He’s not squeezing or applying any pressure but it’s a solid warning that he could. 

You should probably be scared, but you’re not, even if the man looks utterly psychotic with blood smeared over him and wide eyes staring down at you. It’s probably really fucked up how hot you find it. 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, crowding you further against the wall, getting so close that his thick thigh slots between yours and his left forearm leans on the wall above your head. “What’s my name?” You raise your eyebrow. “Well?” 

“Seungcheol,” your defiant response has his fingers curling around your throat and starting to cut off your air flow. It just makes your excitement grow and show in the sparkle of your eyes. 

“Try that again,” he warns in a murmur, moving even closer and pressing his thigh up against your crotch. “Go on,” 

“Seungcheol,” 

“Bitch,” and then he’s kissing you with the same desperation he first kissed you. His hold is firm around your throat and his thigh is already rubbing against you in a way that has you grinding down while gripping his waist in one hand and hip in the other over those fucking trousers that drive you insane. Well, more insane than you already are where Choi Seungcheol is involved.

“Uh,” of course, of fucking course it’s Soonyoung who interrupts you, making you both look at him with matching pissed off expressions. “We should go, that dude is getting taken to the hospital and the hotel is willing to look the other way thanks to Hannie, provided we all leave and you never show your face again here. Hannie and Jun have already gone.” 

“She’s coming with me,” Seungcheol informs. “You go.” 

“Can’t. Daddy’s banned me from driving,” 

“Then fucking walk, Soonyoung.”

“We live so far away,” Soonyoung whines. 

“I’m going to break his face if he doesn’t leave right fucking now,” Seungcheol warns as he looks at you. 

“Just drive, daddy’s gone,” you point out with a shrug. 

“Good point.” Soonyoung nods then turns and walks off just like that without another word or complaint. 

You hope he won’t crash on the way home or forget that he’s driving a stolen car meaning that he shouldn’t take it to your shared apartment. But you can never be too sure with Soonyoung. Oh well, he already knows you won’t visit him in jail, just like he wouldn’t you. Your bloodpact never said anything about prison after all. 

“This is stupid,” Minghao mutters, glancing over to where Seungcheol has a possessive arm around you in the lift of the hotel they’re staying in for the night, a much less fancy one than the meeting happened in. “You told her to leave and now you’ve fucking glued yourself to her and lost a lucrative deal to defend her honour or some bullshit.” 

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Seungcheol retorts, giving Minghao a look that his right hand just rolls his eyes at.

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to walk on eggshells around you anymore. You’re hurting yourself here and you know it.” 

“I’m the one who’s going to get choked,” you point out earning a disgusted look from Minghao. “What? I know you’re into choking, don’t look at me like that.” 

“How do you know what he’s into?” Seungcheol asks, looking between you. 

“How do you not know?” You scoff, looking at Seungcheol as if he’s the weird one. 

“Because I’ve never had sex with him,” 

“Neither have I.”

“Or watched him have sex,” 

“I haven’t…okay once or twice…maybe thrice…” Your expression twists thoughtfully as you try to recall every instance where you’ve watched Minghao have sex, intentionally or not. 

“What the fuck?!” Seungcheol glares at Minghao who holds up his hands placatingly.

“She’s a voyeur and I’m an exhibitionist, it just made sense when it happened. She usually walked in anyway. You know she has no sense of personal boundaries and invites herself wherever the fuck she wants to go.” 

“You should’ve stopped!” 

“You never did,” you point out and push away from the wall when the doors open and let the three of you enter the corridor. “You never stopped when I walked in on you.” 

“That’s different.” 

“How? Sex is sex.” 

“Right.” 

“And I’m leaving, quickly,” Minghao informs and all but runs down the hallway ahead of you two to get to his room. 

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything until you’re both in his hotel room en suite and he’s leaning back against the sink counter while you clean his split knuckles for him. “Is sex really just sex to you?” 

“What else would it be?” 

“It means nothing?” 

“Is it supposed to?” You raise an eyebrow at him when you lift your head to meet his gaze. He’s got that sad puppy look again that twists your heart painfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like…” you sigh and focus back on his hand. “Why did you kiss me, Seungcheol?” 

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want you to leave.” 

“And that means choking and kissing me?” 

“That’s what you want from me, right? Sex? Just meaningless fucking.” 

“No,” 

“Oh.” You don’t need to be looking at Seungcheol to know his expression has fallen further into depths that would drag painful claws across your pitiful little heart if you witness it. “You don’t want me anymore?” 

“I didn’t say that,” 

“Then what are you saying? I don’t know how to fucking read you, you know? I need you to talk to me. Every time I try to have an honest fucking conversation with you about this you just stare at me and break my heart without even saying a word, at least have the fucking balls to do it verbally this time.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, it hurts me too, seeing you with that fucking kicked puppy dog look.” You give up cleaning his hand and toss the blood stained cloth into the sink to step back with your hands on your hips. “And I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. I’m fucking…emotionally incompetent!” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know, that’s what Soonyoung called me when I explained all this to him.” 

“Emotionally incompetent?” You nod. “Why did he call you that? I mean, he’s probably right but he’s usually the first to defend you, so for him to call you that means you fucked up.” 

“I hurt you, of course I fucked up.” 

“Not returning my feelings doesn’t mean-” 

“Cheol,” he immediately cuts off, eyes rounding out at the nickname you haven’t called him in so long. Granted, you haven’t seen him to call him anything in so long but the point still stands. “When did I actually say I don’t have feelings for you?” 

“You said we’re not even friends.” 

“We’re not, we might’ve been at one point years ago but…I can’t think of you like that. You…” you sigh and drop your arms to your sides. “You mean too much to me. I don’t know how to put any of it into words and I was too shocked that day at the warehouse to say anything. And then you got pissed off and threw shit at me and I just didn’t know how to navigate that. It was a lot.” 

“You didn’t even show your face after,” he pretty much whispers, hands gripping the counter either side of his hips to try and ground himself. It reminds you of the day in his kitchen, the last day you saw him, when he was holding the island so tightly to stop himself from reaching for you. “You could’ve come to me and explained and then we could’ve…things would be different.” 

“I thought giving you space would be best. I didn’t want to make you worse. I thought that space would help but Hao found me and said you were denying my fucking existance and planning to fuck a mark and obviously you weren’t any better with the space.” 

“I was a fucking wreck. I can’t do this, I can’t not have you there turning up to make remarks about my thighs or ass or whatever. I need you there by my side so come back, please.” 

“Just like that? I come back and things go back to how they were?” 

“No. You come back and we figure out what works for us.” 

“Sex works great, that was good.”

He chuckles and nods a little in agreement. “It was and I’d really fucking love to do that more, I’m sure you’ve probably got an endless list of fucked up shit you want to do to me.” 

“Oh, hell yeah I do,” you confirm, eyes widening as you think of your endless fantasies involving the man in front of you. “How do you feel about taxidermy?” 

“We’re not involving taxidermy into our sex life, no fucking way,” he replies firmly. “That’s a hard fucking no, you keep that in your freaky head.” 

“Noted. What about anal?” 

“You went from taxidermy to anal how exactly?” 

“Stuffing,” 

Seungcheol tries not to laugh but breaks into an amused smile and motions for you to get closer. “You’re seriously insane, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, we discovered this years ago, Cheolie,” 

“Mm,” he slides his hands onto your hips as he smiles at you in a soft kind of way that makes your heart race. 

“Cheol?” He hums. “Is…I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for years.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before they soften back out and he takes a gentle hold of your face and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you too,” 

“Oh, really?” He nods and you grin happily at him. “That’s cool. We should get married or something.” 

“Fucking hell, you can’t just spring that on me,” he groans, hiding his blushing face into your neck as his arms wind around your waist to hold you close.

“But we’re in love, we love each other, why should we wait?” You’re genuinely confused and it makes him chuckle a little. “I’m serious, Cheol! Why should we wait to get married if that’s what’s going to happen anyway?”

“Alright, baby, let’s get married,” he agrees, straightening up, beaming at you so happily that you can’t help but smile back at him. “We’ll start arranging it as soon as we’re home, hm? But for now-” 

“Sex, lots of sex,” you finish for him. 

“I was going to say let’s sleep but you’re right, who even needs sleep?” He hoists you up with a cheeky grin while you giggle and wrap your arms and legs around him to make it easier for him to take you into the bedroom. 

“You didn’t answer me about anal,” 

“I don’t have anal lube, babe,” he chuckles, laying you down onto the bed and climbing between your thighs while removing his shirt.

“I don’t have a dildo or strap either,” you pout at the reminder.

“Wait, you meant my ass?” 

“Yeah, I really want to fuck your ass, it’s made to be fucked.” 

“Uh, I’ll consider it.” 

“Okay.” You reach out to pull him back down and slot your lips together shortly. “Now, you owe me,” 

“What, why?” 

“You said you were going to fuck me until I can’t walk and that never happened.” 

“Because you let me think you don’t want me for more than just sex!” 

“All I’m hearing is excuses and not enough action to put your cock in me,” 

“Yeah yeah, get naked.” He slaps your thigh a few times in encouragement while leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt. 

You make zero effort to move at all, except to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch intently as he slowly unbuttons his belt.

“Are you seriously just going to watch me strip?” He asks while teasingly dragging his fingers along his skin along the edge of his waistband with a cocky smirk once his belt is open.

“Dance for me, pretty boy,”

Seungcheol puts his hands on his hips and waits until you’ve dragged your gaze up from staring at the outline of his cock, over his bare torso and to his face. He’s raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you just call me pretty boy?” 

“Yes,” 

“Fucking crazy,” he huffs a short laugh.

“Hey!” You lean up just enough to slap his thigh scoldingly then sit up so that you can grope at his thighs with both hands while he just watches with an amused, fond little smile at your utterly shameless actions. “You are pretty, my pretty boy,” 

“Mm, I can accept that,” he agrees, holding your jaw with one hand firmly to tilt you up as he leans in to brush his lips over yours teasingly. “So long as I’m your pretty boy, I don’t mind being called that. So long as I’m yours, you can call me anything.” 

“Okay, sugarplum.” You cackle at the world-weary sigh that Seungcheol lets out against your lips before he leans back to look at you unimpressed. “What’s the matter, pookie?” 

“Why did you have to ruin the mood?” 

“I ruined the mood?” You smirk and slide one hand up his thigh to grip his cock firmly, making him hiss through his teeth at the sudden, tight pressure. “Feels like you’re still in the mood to me, pretty boy.” 

“I really must be insane,” 

“We match well then, huh?” 

“Mm,” he leans down to kiss you shortly. “Good thing we’re never having kids, they’d be sectioned before they reach adulthood.” 

“Our neighbours would hate us,” 

“They would,” he chuckles. “We’ll find somewhere new to live together once we’re married, away from noisy ass neighbours, and with a garden so I can fuck you outside and see how gorgeous you’ll look with the sun shining on you when you’re covered in my cum.” 

“There’s a park down the road,” 

“No,” he scoffs and shoves you back to make you lay down before his hands move to roughly yank his belt free. “You’re mine, I’m not letting anyone else see you like that.” 

“Even knowing they can look but not touch?” 

“Maybe once I’ve covered you in marks and made up for the past five years of not being able to fuck you.” 

“Sounds like a party,” you grin, and then wiggle excitedly as he taps the folded middle of his leather belt against your inner thigh. “That’d leave pretty marks.” 

“Mm, it would, you need to be naked for that though, baby,”

“You need to dance for me first,” you remind matter-of-factly before lacing your fingers together behind your head comfortably. 

“You really want me to dance for you?” 

“I’ve dreamed about you giving me a strip tease, don’t kill my boner, Cheolie.” 

“You’re going to kill my boner if you keep saying shit like this.” 

“Guess we need to invest in some gags,” 

“Guess we do,” he murmurs and licks his lips automatically at the thought of your lips stretched around a gag and drool running down your chin as you moan for him. “I’ll give you a strip tease another day, I need to fuck you too much.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise, baby,” 

“Okay.” You sit up and get to work, quickly stripping off your clothes so Seungcheol climbs off of the bed to force his fitted trousers off of his body along with his boxers.

When he kneels back on the bed naked, he finds you already laid there utterly nude with legs spread in wait for him to join you.

“How the fuck did you strip so fast?” He gawps, running his hands reverently over your thighs as he settles between them on his knees. 

“Years of practise,” 

“Stripping?” 

“Had to be prepared for the day you give in to my seduction.” 

“Well…good job,” he leans down over you, hands propping himself on the mattress so that he can kiss you. 

“Thank you,” you preen and run your hands up his sides to take the chance to touch as much of his strong torso as you can for the first time. You can’t fucking wait to spend the rest of your life touching him up. It’s going to be great. “Now, cock please,” 

Seungcheol chokes on a short laugh at your words. “Good use of manners, sweetheart,” 

“I thought so too. Definitely deserves a reward,” 

“Mm,” he shuffles down a little so that he can wrap his full lips around your left nipple and suck harshly, intent on starting his plan to cover you in hickies and hand prints to mark his property. 

“That’ll work,” you mutter, lacing fingers in his hair to encourage his mouth against your breast. “Not cock but it’ll do for now.” 

“Shut up,” he laughs against your skin. 

“Make me,” 

“Brat,” 

“You like it,” 

“I do,” he sighs before moving one hand over your chest and throat until he can press against your parted lips. There’s no resistance at all, your jaw dropping enough to allow his middle and ring finger to slide into your mouth. “Good fucking girl,” Seungcheol praises in a low, rough voice as you instantly start to suck at his fingers, swirling your tongue around and between them with happy little moans. 

Seungcheol keeps his mouth against your body, sucking and biting violent looking marks into your skin until he’s satisfied with his artwork. He moves down, dragging the fingers from your mouth as he does, smearing your own saliva in a trail all the way until he’s laid on his stomach between your thighs and attaching his mouth to your clit in the same moment he pushes those two wet fingers into you. 

“Cheol,” you breathe out, pushing down against his fingers so that he doesn’t even dare think of waiting. He hums against your clit, making your thighs tighten momentarily before he starts to work his fingers in rapid movements that make your eyes flutter and fingers grip at him. 

As your nails drag over his shoulder lightly, Seungcheol moans and arches up towards your hand, urging you on, encouraging you to grasp at him. Dig your nails in until he hisses and fucks his fingers into you harder and faster. 

“H-how much can you take?” He asks, leaning up on his free hand, mouth and chin smeared with your arousal. 

“Anything,” you promise, feeling as desperate as the wild darkness in his eyes tells you he feels. 

Seungcheol nods and pulls his fingers from you as he moves up onto his knees. He doesn’t even ask you to move, just grabs you and manhandles you onto your front, chest against the mattress and hips up just enough to give him a better angle to begin sliding his thick cock into you. 

Maybe you hadn’t been quite as ready as you could’ve been. As you perhaps should’ve been. It’s been a while since you put anything but your fingers in your pussy for a quick session since moving away from the city.

Living with your nosey ass best friend doesn’t give you the freedom to get your toys out as he seems to have the uncanny ability of popping up and making a big deal out of it. Lots of screaming and acting like he’s been visually assaulted. You do the same to him. Your relationship is full of a lot of love and mutual, mature respect, clearly.

It’s a tight fit and Seungcheol grips your hips tight as he painstakingly splits you open with his mouth parted and eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. Not that you can see. Or have the mental capacity to do anything but grip the pillow and almost suffocate yourself in it with the way you press your open mouth against the material. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he pants when he stops before he’s even buried his entire length in you. “Baby, I don’t-I don’t know if this is a good idea, fuck,” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn, turning your head to glare over your shoulder at him while reaching back to grab his ass and stop him from pulling out like he starts to. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Then I’ll do it,” you huff and push yourself up onto your hands. Admittedly, shaky hands but you’re too focused on your task to care. Too stubborn and desperate to get obliterated by his cock. 

“Babe-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Choi Seungchol,” you demand, pushing yourself back harsh enough that he flails and drops down onto his haunches as he swears, hands still gripping you though. His mouth says one thing and his body another. 

It’s a task getting your body upright until you’re on your knees, hands free to hold onto his forearm and thigh but when you do, you only take a moment to stop the spinning of your mind before you start to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans, spreading his thighs a little wider and rolling his hips in time with your bouncing. He’s not thrusting but his minute movements help to open you up a little more with every slap of your skin against his. 

This position isn’t very practical for you, not with Seungcheol. Not when it makes his cock feel even bigger than it actually is and your whole body trembles as it presses and drags against your walls in ways that feel like utter sin. You’re dripping all over him, ruining the bed and you don’t even care. Neither does he. 

“Your turn,” you murmur, falling still on his lap as you lean back against his chest to catch your breath at least a little and give your burning thighs a break. It’s a lot more work to ride him like that than you expected. You’ll have to take up a new workout routine so that you can do it for longer next time. You’re determined.

Seungcheol takes the moment of calm stillness to brush his lips over your shoulder and let his hands explore over your chest and spread-thighs. 

One of his hands trails between your legs to feel at where your pussy is spread around his cock. He makes a low, pleased sound before abruptly rubbing quick harsh circles over your clit. You shriek in surprise, body tensing at the sudden attack and nails digging into the skin of his thighs under your own.

“You gotta cum first,” he informs, stopping his circles for only a second to bring his hand back then down, landing a firm slap to your clit and making your body jerk as you moan brokenly. “That’s my dirty girl, fucking knew you’d like this,” his tone is nothing but aroused and approving as he slaps your clit again while holding you in place with his other arm wrapped securely around your waist with his hand on your chest. “You’re gonna cum like this, understand?” 

“Cheol-” 

“I said, do you understand?” Another slap, this one harsher in a toe-curling way, before he drags his palm and fingers over your clit in a way that could be considered almost soothing if he wasn’t pressing as firmly as he is. 

“Fuck, y-yeah. Don’t stop.” You agree, nodding where your head is tilted back against his shoulder. “But,” 

“What?” You don’t answer verbally and instead grip his left wrist to pull his hand up from your chest and to your throat. “I fucking love you,” he declares before squeezing your throat at the same time as he sucks on the side of your neck to create a new claim, his right hand moving to slap your clit in rapid succession. 

It’s only a few seconds of the combination, the intense pleasure from all melding together and sending a sharp orgasm through your body. Your body moves naturally as if trying to fight it and get away as you gasp for air you can’t get yet. Your nails drag deep red marks over his skin that only encourages him to fuck up into your convulsing walls. 

“Good, good,” he breathes against your neck and drops his palm from your throat back to your chest, both so that you can breathe clearly and so that he can hold you to him. He doesn’t stop playing with your clit though, his hips humping up into you and barely moving his cock but it’s still almost too much stimulation. 

The first orgasm is barely even over before another rocks through your body. 

This time, Seungcheol removes his hand from your clit, giving you some respite and murmurs praise against your shoulder the entire time it takes you to come down from the combination of both climaxes.

“You okay?” He asks gently when you turn your head to blink your eyes open and peer at him. You hum and nod, giving him a dopey, sated smile that makes him laugh. “Can you take more?” 

“Whatever you’ve got,” comes your confident response. 

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, looking nothing but proud of you and your pussy for being able to handle his thick cock. You’d puff like a peacock if, you know, you weren’t human.

Seungcheol takes a moment to just kiss you, lips and tongue meeting languidly as best as you both can considering the angle. You personally think it works very well and you’d give you both top marks.

And then he pushes you down against the mattress, one hand on the back of your neck to keep your cheek smushed against the pillow and his other hand holding your hip firmly to fuck into you in a brutal manner.

The headboard knocks harshly against the wall with every powerful stroke of his hips. The back of your thighs and ass are already starting to sting with the strength of his thrusts. His fingers bruise marks into your hip and neck as he hold you securely in place and forces you to just fucking take it. 

And you’re in heaven.

If you weren’t in love with the man before, you sure as fuck are now.

Nobody has ever fucked you like this. Nobody has handled you so well in every way. And you just know with everything in you that nobody else ever will. 

You’re definitely gonna marry the fuck out of Choi Seungcheol.

It doesn’t last much longer really, not that you can really blame Seungcheol considering he sat there and felt your pussy squeeze and cream over his cock twice already; and now he’s battering your walls so perfectly in a way that borders on pain in the most delicious of ways so you’re squeezing him all over again in minutes and almost screaming into the pillow as he forces another strong climax from your body.

You don’t even have the mental clarity to realise he’s stopped, his hips juddering against you as he cums as deep in you as possible with a string of low, rough moans with your name sprinkled in. 

“Oh, fuck,” you grunt when he lowers your hips to the mattress without pulling out just so that he can almost flatten you under his own body weight. You know he’s not entirely laid on you, you can feel the bulge of his biceps against your upper arms as he holds himself up just enough to not squish you.

“Shut up, you said you can take anything I give you,” he reminds in between pressing sweet, lingering kisses to your neck. 

“Meant your giant cock, not giant ass.” 

“You love my giant ass.”

“Mm. So, can I peg you?” 

“Can’t we just enjoy the post-sex bliss without you ruining it?” 

“No.” You wiggle your ass making him groan and then bite your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Don’t get me hard again, I’ll pass out if we go again before I sleep.” 

“That’s not a problem, unless you squish me, or go soft.” 

“Are you implying you’d carry on fucking even if I pass out?” 

“What? Because you wimp out, I have to suffer?” You scoff and wiggle again. “Got a problem with me using your body when you’re unconscious?” 

Seungcheol is silent for a moment in thought. “Just don’t stick anything in my ass.” 

“Mm, I can accept that. I want you to be awake when I ruin you anyway.” 

“I really don’t know what I’ve got myself into with you, do I?” 

“Nope.” You grin over your shoulder at him. “You said you’ll marry me, you’re stuck with me forever.” 

“I think I’m okay with that,” there’s a smile on his face as he moves off of you so that he can turn you enough to comfortably kiss you in a way that feels something like a promise. 

A promise to be okay with your endless depravities. A promise to marry you as soon as possible and buy a house together. A promise to spend the rest of his life loving you, his utterly bat-shit crazy troublemaker.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

...hm-

Finally.

It turns out that universities do care about some of their students’ health after all. After a gruelling non-stop six weeks' worth of content, you're finally excited to not only catch up on some of the work you don't manage to touch but also that you won't have to watch lectures that seem like carbon copies of your textbook. In addition to that, you also get the choice to stay indoors all week which is a dream for all overworked students. 

Sitting in a slightly quiet area under the trees accompanied by your friend is one of the best ways to end the tiring six weeks. All is nice and cool as you let the wind brush against your skin, sighing at the temperature. Your friend follows you shortly after but disrupts the peace with a question.

The tip of her shoe hits yours, “So, how was the date?”

The implying tone from your relaxed best friend caused you to roll your eyes, “It wasn’t a date. It was just a hangout.”

“Oh yeah, I bet,” she agreed sarcastically. “How many times did you kiss him while you were at it?” 

The information was about to spill out from your mouth without a second thought. You were so close to embarrassing yourself with the fact that you were not only all over Kim Sunwoo’s lips yesterday, but all around that annoyingly handsome face of his and slightly down his neck. The heat rises to your cheek but you play it cool by shrugging your shoulders, pushing last night’s events to the back of your head. 

The way you responded only elicits an amused chuckle from your best friend. She knows you're avoiding the truth. “Stop pretending not to be in love with him,” she sighs. “Your denial is getting so damn embarrassing.” 

You relaxed your eyelids close once more, focusing on nature instead with your palms behind your back to lean. “It's not embarrassing because I'm not even in denial about that loser.”

You allow yourself to ramble some more, listing points to prove to her that you're not in love with the man. Usually, your friend would give you unconvincing hums which you're now used to. But the lack of response from her made you uneasy, as even though you had your eyes closed, the image of her raised eyebrows and the corner of her lips slightly raised is clear in your mind. 

That is the expression you're greeted with when you bring yourself back to reality. However, her eyes were nowhere near you, a mischievous smile growing bigger at the sight of a familiar person approaching you from behind. Your eye twitches, knowing exactly who it was. You dusted the sand and dirt remnants from your palm, ready to stand up to your feet when a force behind weights you back down.

You yelp slightly at the force, your now dirty palms again stopping you face planting to the Earth.

“Kim fucking Sunwoo!” You called out the man who secured his hold around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Get off me, you fucking stink.”

“Really?” The boy does the opposite, sitting down and spreading his legs beside your thighs, pulling you closer to his chest. “Last time I checked I smelled pretty good.”

He does. You're not going to admit that though. 

“Yeah, maybe after spending time at a rubbish bin.”

Your friend couldn't help but snicker at that. She wonders if you would give the poor boy a break sometime but seeing you both like this, obviously love sick for each other, she chose to make this her everyday entertainment. 

“Okay,” your friend collected her things. “I'll see you soon,” winking at you. “And you,” pointing at Sunwoo, “Please use protection.”

“Hey!”

“Will do!”

You whip your head back to Sunwoo’s sharp jawline, slapping his arm at the comment. When your friend was comfortably out of space, a finger traced along the front of your bra’s underband. The courageous touch in public made you yelp a little. Your reaction didn’t faze him at all because he predicted it all; you fold with even the smallest touch of him after all. 

“Feeling sensitive, baby girl?” The airyness of his husky voice sent chills down your spine. It also sent your stomach doing flips and your hands stopped slapping him for a change. 

“No,” you answer softly. Trying to push off is futile as you learnt from past events and so you let him win, taking a mental note to lecture him later.

“Baby girl…” the tip of his nose brushes along the underside of your jawline, shuddering at the light touch as he just ghosts over your slowly heating skin. 

Though tight, your lips displayed a smile. From the corner of your eye, you know he’s enjoying the situation, “In front of everyone?” Turns out you couldn’t keep your question for later. 

“There's literally no one here,” you felt his shoulders shrug. An arm stays secure around your waist, the other guiding your chin to face him. “You smell delicious,” the whisper hits the shell of your ear so gracefully that your gulp becomes audible. 

Sunwoo doesn't bother hiding the fact that he's focused on your lips, licking his own as he struggles to keep himself from tasting you. While his index and thumb keep you still, his other fingers brush against your skin intricately. The smooth motions contrast his darkening orbs. You’re in fear that you will fold for him in public now.

You are not going to be defeated by Kim Sunwoo. Not when he made you fold for him hard yesterday.

But it’s unfortunate for you that he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

Sunwoo turns your head away from your alluring lips as he has other plans for now. His supple lips land on the side of your neck and he starts to suck on your skin. You expected just a peck, especially with the setting, but it became clear to you that nothing mattered to him. 

Whimpering moans slip out of your lips and Sunwoo smiles momentarily at the beginning of his work on the crook of your neck before going back in. At first, he’s disappointed that no one is staying for the show but then it gives him all the more reason to gape his lips and suck on your skin.

“Sunwoo-” You gasp out as your palm is back to giving him a physical reminder on his arm around your middle. “Fucking hell…”

He hums against your skin before pulling away, licking his lips at the subtle mark he left on you. Needless to say, you won’t be able to cover that up with your clothing. The lovesick boy doesn’t stop there when he directs your eyes back to lock his, sending you a message that makes your body slightly shudder. You weren’t sure what the gaze meant but all you knew was that it was the same look he gave after he would kiss you breathless; just like last night.

His hand retracts yet you don’t dare to break the eye contact. Knowing that he had an effect on you, Sunwoo maintained it, feeling slightly competitive about how you’re not backing down, not even looking at his plump lips. Sunwoo blindly reaches to the inside of his bag beside him, cluttering around until he finds the icy-cold cylinder that he bought for you earlier on.

“Got you a morning drink,” rattling the ice inside the cylinder and putting it where his mark prettily shows. “Probably should put it on there. They say it’s good to ice your bruises.”

The mention of a new mark made you lose the unspoken game as you used your front camera like a mirror. You didn’t even need to crane or tilt your neck too far to see what he was talking about and at the top corner of the screen, you could also see the start of a smirk growing on his face.

“Kim Sunwoo!” It’s so obvious, brighter than the sunlight above you. “I swear, Kim Sunwoo…” Glaring at the radiant man through your phone.

“Oh!” He exclaimed before snatching your phone. “You should take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Sunwoo kept his locking hold around your waist, positioning your phone closer to the sky. He takes a couple with varying angles and closeness, as well as how close his lips were to your heating skin. You jolt at the innocent kisses he left, leaving supple traces of his love and his breathy chuckle made you relax against his chest. “Now the two sides of your neck are matching.”

The image of last night flashes. The way Sunwoo cupped your cheeks, discarding his ice cream when he chose to lick the remnants of yours from your lips. The way he held the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to the point that you eventually sat on his strong, bulky thighs. The way he foreshadows the darker kiss mark on your neck when he moves his mouth across the side of your face, going off track with your jawline before rerouting to his main aim. The smacking of each other’s lips grew louder as the makeout session turned more intense. How his finger slowly lifted the skirt you were wearing, shuddering at the cold wind and the tiny circles that glided across your skin. Last night, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, was amazing.

You hope it was the same for him too.

The plastic seal clicks and is broken, pulling you back into reality. “Drink this,” he beams after chuckling at the way you look at him half-dazed. “I think you’ll like this.”

“Absolutely not,” swatting the drink away from you and keeping your ground. “You probably put shit in it.”

“Baby girl,” Sunwoo warns, voice lowering. Before you knew it, Sunwoo leans forward to slither an arm below the back of your knee, twirling you and resting your legs onto his thigh. This position made it easier for him to see you now that half your face was easily within his view. “It wasn’t a question,” he says as his palm holds a thigh, fingers spreading to increase his presence on your body. “You will like this.”

Another eyebrow raises and an inaudible shake of your head is what you give him.

His scoff resonates and hits you. You thought you won when he gulped the beverage himself and for a second, your muscles relaxed and a grin stretched across your lips. Your relief goes undetected by him because as soon as he feels the way your body reacts to him gulping his efforts for you, his palm that was once on your thigh slips down to one of your lower cheeks to remind you who has always had the upper hand between you both.

Your eyes widen at his gesture and to make things worse, Sunwoo leaves one last mouthful of the drink before he securely attaches his lips to yours. He angles his head down and tilts your neck up, something that he never does and the difference in routine alarms you. You end up understanding what he’s doing because with the betrayal of your lips parting when Sunwoo’s thumb nudges your chin down, with the help of gravity, he opens his mouth and empties the drink to you. He chases your lips at your surprise and holds you close to prevent you from pulling away. Some escapes from the corner of your lips that never fully touched his but he wipes it skillfully with the pad of his thumb, making a trail of the sweet tea, dripping from your jawline to where he kissed you earlier and letting your clothes suck up all of his glory. The way he cups your face, gently resting the apple of your cheek while his lips move slowly is all intimate to you, reaching out to his wrist for stability. 

When his mouth is empty, Sunwoo pulls away and your neck relaxes. The look of surprise on your face is entertaining and his bangs fall attractively in front of his cunning eyes. After moving back a bit, he sees how your cheeks are not fully empty. “Swallow,” he orders, brushing his thumb on the sensitive spot of your neck. “Like every single time you’ve done for me, baby girl.” No one could see the images that played in your head but the flashes only ran faster and more intense with his raised eyebrow.

Despite your self-talk not to let him win, you obeyed.

You gulp at the way he phrases his words for you, complimenting you on something that is human nature. The flavoured drink runs down your throat smoothly, the back of your hand wiping any remnants on your lower face. It wasn’t long until you realised that yet again, Kim Sunwoo was right: you did like the beverage; and maybe something else that he did along with that. Your tongue pokes out between your lips, savouring the taste and you had to stop yourself from going on your toes to chase his lips for some more.

“Good,” he praises you. “Was that so hard, hm?” 

“You’re insane, Kim Sunwoo.” 

“Ah yes,” Sunwoo nods proudly. “Or you could just say you liked what I did.”

As if you would. “Ok now, let me go, you dick.” 

The mention of the body part only made it worse for you and he didn’t bother masking his dirty idea to you. To the public, he looked like an abandoned puppy, kicked and forgotten on the street with his eyes wide open, begging for some love and care for anyone who passed by. His lower lips jutted out despite the scowl on your face.

“I’m just a boy…” His words trailing off towards the end. “Your baby boy…” The mention of the nickname you reserve only for him lands him a smack on his broad chest. 

“You’re literally twen-”

“Just a boy,” he repeated before wiggling his eyebrows. “You need to take care of me,” his palm on your lower body moves once more, reminding you that he has never let you go. “Next time you should’ve just sipped the drink, but now?” Effortlessly, Sunwoo held your flustered figure in his arms while you naturally clung your arms around his neck as he raised and began walking towards his car. “You get to learn.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

thank you for hyping and helping me with this one @hursheys @mosviqu 😭

The moment the electric lock flashed green on the booked hotel room, clothes were flung and skin to skin were made before skin to fresh fabric. Kim Sunwoo smirks at your neediness for him, the way his finger smoothly glides along your folds confirming the fact even more. As always, he always knows how to rile you up, especially with the amount of orgasms he's taken away from you in the past hour.

"Stay still," a husky groan behind you reminded, "pretty little girl."

You whimpered at the pet name, your back arching, palm full of the sheets and chest fluttering at the wet kisses trailing down your spine. Sunwoo’s arm that was around your waist pulled you up to sit against the broad of his chest. His heating skin only intensifies the need around your body, your thighs shaking at the rubbing around your clit. Now practically sitting on his hard length, the new position was able to brush a deep place that had never been touched. The slightest movement occurred from his hip and the boy smirks at how you rest your head against his shoulder. 

"That's it, baby girl," licking the side of your neck. His teeth nibble on your skin, the same teasing way he flicks and ghosts over your defined nipples and kneads your boobs in his hands. "Louder," he presses on as he grows harder inside of you.

"S-Sunwoo-" Your words were taken out, replaced by the heaving of breaths and moans filling the hotel room. "Let me ride you. I need you so bad.” The idea is cunning to him and he couldn't help but hiss at the mental image of being able to fully see the way you would take him, eyes locked to his as you only increase the pleasure for you both.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please, pretty boy. Let me ride y-"

Turns out Sunwoo is more impatient than you are and you feel the way his length hardens more inside your gummy loosening walls, stretching and knocking on the very first stages of your orgasm. Sunwoo flips to change his position, laying gracefully over the bed with you hovering above him, but unfortunately for you, the slight moment when he needs to pull out to get into position makes you frown.

He chuckles, "Don't be so disappointed. You like my cock so much that you just want me in you all day. That's why you call me every single time, don't you?" Your attempt to take a breath halts halfway when you realise that Sunwoo doesn’t align his member to your hole, instead making your poor clit grind against the top parts of his needy, veiny length. "A-Ah..." He rocks your swollen clit against himself, satisfyingly bringing you up and down, his tip disappearing behind your folds and reappearing again gloriously.

Your lower body is starting to shake again and your hands leveraged for his abs, nails slightly digging into his skin. It only urged Sunwoo to grind further, pressing your hips down to him as he started to enter you slightly but pulled out before hitting your spot.

"P-Please, fuck me properly." You're out of your mind at how he plays you, half-hooded eyes staring at him in the low lighting of the room. His mischievous smile shows that he will stop playing with you, but not too soon. Desperate for release, you start to retaliate a bit, going against the guidance of his grip to keep him snug inside you. A smack lands on one of your ass cheeks and the impact makes you moan. It only gets worse for you when he completely stops matching your neediness, keeping your hips in place and taking your building orgasm once more.

Cries and pleas fill his ears. "Stop being a brat," demanding and strong even though his eyes tell you otherwise; if only your eyes were opened. "I'll give you what you want so be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Be patient." You were half-listening, your nods stuttering along with your lower body that starts to shake in anticipation. Your head hangs low, moaning louder and nails engraved to his abdomen.

Until he completely raises his upper body from the mattress.

“W-What are you doing…?" Craving the pleasure he skillfully gives and smacking his chest in frustration. Your legs instinctively wrap around his pelvic area when he completely stands from the bed, clinging onto him as your energy slowly but surely runs out at the relentless rounds that have been going on between him and you.

Sunwoo gives a fake emphatic pout, puckering his lips for a kiss instead. He brushes his lips wherever he can, chuckling at how contrasting the top part of your body is displaying soft love but how the lower part of your body is still connected, your cum dripping along his length as he holds completely still. It’s hard for him to not thrust, but he loves keeping you on edge just for a bit longer. He kisses your tears away and the soft treatment he's giving you makes you forget of your throbbing need only for a split second as he tends to you in a different way. You close your eyes to feel his tongue swirling yours. The need to feel every part of him is evident, your arms wrapped around his neck tell him your desperateness and Sunwoo caresses your waist.

"That's for not calling me for so fucking long," he breathes out. "I was starting to get upset that you haven't called me for a while. Am I a joke to you?

Teeth clash, nose nudging and the way you run out of breath faster than ever makes Sunwoo snicker. "You were being annoying," you bite back. "Fucking me in random places whenever you wanted to." 

Your face heats up as you remember the way Sunwoo would wiggle his eyebrows each time, a tongue poking on the inner side of his cheek before he took you to ride him for the first time in the unisex toilet, the front and backseats of his car, his bedroom with the door open and his parents just downstairs, in your house against the window, in the dressing room of a store where he ended up buying the dress he ripped off you, in the empty lecture room at university (let’s hope the recording system wasn’t on), or even fingering you during your lecture (you’re thankful the content is recorded). All those places he moulded his length into you, breaking you apart and putting you back with searing kisses each time. His controlling nature excites you, that's why you haven't been able to call him. You secretly hoped he would go even wilder if you didn't. 

Driving to your house, putting you on your shoulder and driving to the nearest hotel that he has booked has gotten to be the least public sex you've had; or so you thought. Sunwoo’s act of cradling your soft skin against his body while he opens the curtain and clicks the balcony door open has become the most public and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. You immediately knew that if other visitors (or even the passersby as you weren’t too far from the ground) were to look anywhere towards your side, they would be able to see you and Sunwoo in intimate detail.

“Oh my God,” you mutter at the wind grazing against your back. 

“You want to do it out here?” Suggesting a little show for everyone. “I can give the walkers a show if I bend you over, I guess,” he shrugs. “But I need to see you as I cum inside because it’s the best seeing you fall apart for me.” 

Sunwoo feels the way you start to pool at that, and he thrusts slightly after you throb at his length. The whimpers against his neck from his baby girl rile him, especially with how you're clinging onto him and grinding against his chiselled front. Sunwoo taps on the side of your thigh, a motion telling you to land back on the ground. He wastes no time, cupping a hand around your mouth while his index lays vertically against his lips, winking at you. Your hands immediately fly to the wooden railing behind you and Sunwoo takes this as a time to blanket his hand over yours before slowly testing and setting a comfortable, stable rhythm. 

“H-Here?” The wind messed up Sunwoo’s hair, and his overgrown bangs only made it hard for you to even set eyes on his orbs; but fuck did he look all the more attractive.

‘Here,” he affirms as a corner of his lip rises, smug and confident. “Shh,” he hushed. “Taking me like a good girl?” Chuckling at your rapid nods, “Or like a dirty little slut?”

Crocked, broken moans could still be heard behind his palm when you finally met his lust-filled eyes. You tried to distract yourself from the thrill of someone walking over to the balcony and catching you but you couldn’t help but grow louder when you looked down at Sunwoo’s veiny length entering you, slowly pulling out and pushing in twice as fast. High-pitched squeals match each time he hits you where you’re most needed.

“Is that how good I feel?” Raising an eyebrow, impressed at how you were able to nod. “My pretty baby girl taking me so well either way.” 

As much as you’re pushing him closer and closer to painting your walls white, he needs more stimulation. Whether stimulation is given to him or he gives it to you to drive you insane, it doesn’t matter, but Sunwoo has always been one to spoil you. He takes his hand away from your mouth and immediately the volume, moans, whines, groans and pleas you let out are already pushing him one step closer. He increases his pace, skin slapping on each other and leaning over to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. This decreases the distance between you and him more, and your tender clit gets more attention and love.

“I-I’m so close…” You etched out between broken sobs. 

His eyes shut tight, nodding at your words. “You can do it.” It’s the first time he’s permitted you to completely let go. His thumbs brush over your knuckles, reassuring you that he’s close too and would love you to finish first; he loves spoiling you first before himself. “Come on,” pushing himself faster, “Let go for me,” harder, “Don’t worry, it won’t be your first.”

On cue, the image of him not letting you take a break is the trigger to you cumming, Sunwoo still pulsing around you as you did so. The boy hisses at the throbbing motions as you refuse to let go of his cock, tightly wrapping him around you. His hands tightly grip your wrist, the other pulling you still at the final drag he takes inside you as he empties all of him into you, twitching against your pulsing walls. 

You feel the way he fills you up, chest stuttering and out of breath. Both your eyes widen when he moves again, needy groans filling your ears. “Sunwoo…” He shakes his head, shutting you up with a searing wet kiss. He plays his tongue around yours, drowning all your noises.

“Not yet,” he heaves. Not when he hasn’t fucked his girl in so long. The amount of times he’s jerked himself off to the thought of you, the way you cry for him and the way that his dick is only satisfied with you are the only things that he replayed in his head every night, moaning your name with furrowed eyebrows. 

He retreats inside, sitting on the bed and adjusting his lying position as you sit on him once more. This angle pushes you to your second orgasm, creeping up slowly but surely. Your tightly shut eyes make you appreciate how deep he is as he starts to pound up against you. 

His eyes gazed at your glistening folds and pulsing pussy. "See?" He leans and observes your lacked jaw. "In the end, you don't care where I fuck you," chuckling when you meet his thrust halfway. Your muscle shaping for him makes your hole shake, wetting his length and making it easier for him to slide further. "You just care about me," a thrust up, "and the way that I fuck you wherever you want to," another thrust, "and I guess," an eyebrow raises as he prepares his next move, "whenever I want to fuck you."

Sunwoo gets you ready for another release, teasing your sensitive bud by rubbing, flicking and pinching your folds as he pounds into you. This is the first time he's seen your expression from below, and the image is so much better than seeing you under him. In the end, he's just a boy who wants to see how you can move yourself to match his thrust. His dick only hardens with the fact that you're so fucked out that you're unable to fully grind against him.

"F-Fuck me..." Chest heaving at his control. "O-Oh-" He found it. The place that makes you fold for him every time. Your grip flies to his shoulder, eye contact never faltering other than when your eyes shut at the tears rolling down your cheek. Sunwoo aims there each time and you let out choked screams at the building pleasure. "S-Shit.” The stimulation makes the sex easier, eyes widening at the intense pleasure.

"Shit," he smirks at your tightly shut eyes, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "Don't hurt yourself, baby girl," cupping your cheek and pulling your bottom lip. "Let me hear you," Sunwoo increased the pace of his hips and swirls your tender clit, and you had no choice but to follow his orders. "You're so fucked out and beautiful."

You whine at his words, squeals bouncing around the room when Sunwoo tugs on your nipple with his teeth. He fondles every part of you with intense want, intense need. The added attention is when your lower body starts to tense and relax uncontrollably, gushing out the startings of your liquid and the smacks of your body becoming louder and more accurate each second. Your neck falls, and screams hit the ceiling.

He hums against the valley between your breasts, "Does my sweet girl want to cum again?"

"Yes!"

His hand cups your jaw, directing your pleading gaze to his similar ones. "Can she promise me that she'll contact me more and won't deprive me of this sweet pussy?"

"Yes!"

Despite the need, he knows your words hold truth. "I'm gonna cum inside you. Need your body to remember a part of me."

You don't object to that as he pulls you to another kiss, muffling and taking your moans down his throat. It's not long before your body swallows his second load inside, overflowing onto the sheets that he for sure would love to take home; maybe even replacing his as he jerks off to your scent. Your body falls slack after but Sunwoo doesn't pull out again. Your walls pulsate around him and it's when you realise that he's not getting any softer inside of you.

You realised the implications of that, "Fuck-"

You’re flipped against the mattress in a clean sweep, head now comfortably deep into the pillow and Sunwoo re-enters as soon as you hit the bed. "You've been ignoring my calls for too long and I’m way too deprived of you right now," Both wrists are pinned under his open palms, "And this dick needs some more love from his home, baby girl."

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

Adhere to our Society Rules.

Include at least one smut scene.

Provide a mini-playlist of at least 5 songs related to your fic.

Fic must be a minimum of 2,000 words.

Include at least one adult male kpop artist in the main pairing.

Draw inspiration from Dark Academia.

Feature a main character with one of the specified careers listed below.

Dark Academia Career List:

Librarian

Historian

Archivist

Collector

Antiquarian

Art Conservator

Museum Curator

Author

Editor

Researcher

Professor

Philosopher 

Linguist

Preservationist

Paleontologist

Dark Academia References:

Here are some common aesthetics, themes, and vibes within Dark Academia to consider when plotting your fic!

Intellectual Pursuits: A deep fascination with classical literature, philosophy, history, and the arts. Characters often engage in rigorous academic study and debate.

Gothic Aesthetics: An appreciation for the gothic style, including old, grand libraries, ivy-clad buildings, and dark, moody settings. The visual elements often evoke a sense of timelessness and melancholy.

Existential Reflection: Themes of existentialism and the search for meaning in life are prevalent. Characters might grapple with questions of mortality, identity, and the nature of existence.

Isolation and Loneliness: The protagonist often experiences feelings of isolation, whether physical or emotional, which can be amplified by their intense intellectual focus or by their outsider status.

Romanticism: A romanticized view of suffering and melancholy. Characters might be drawn to tragic or doomed love affairs, or find beauty in the somber and melancholic aspects of life.

Dark Secrets: Mysterious or sinister elements, such as hidden knowledge, academic rivalries, or tragic events. The pursuit of knowledge might lead to uncovering dark truths.

Academic Rivalry: Competitive or contentious relationships among scholars or students, often with intense intellectual debates or conflicts.

Classic Literature and Art: Frequent references to or influence from classic works of literature, art, and philosophy, often with a focus on the works of authors like Oscar Wilde, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and others from the late 19th to early 20th centuries.

Historical Settings: A penchant for settings that are old-world or historical, such as prestigious universities, old libraries, and grand estates, which contribute to the genre's timeless feel.

Aesthetic Rituals: The importance of rituals, traditions, and customs in the academic environment, often including late-night study sessions, formal gatherings, and other intellectual practices.

Schedule: 

September 2nd: Event begins

October 13th: Halfway point & last day to join

November 17th to 23rd: Posting period

November 24th: Project masterlist shared

KSS is thrilled to invite you to our first network event! We look forward to see the amazing ideas you come up with. Please reach out via our ask box if you have any questions.

Tap tap tap.

Yoongi glances briefly at Miso to his side, to see her gazing out of the window. Her side profile seems calm enough, although her arms are crossed tightly across her chest. It’s a moment before he realises the tapping sounds aren’t coming from her.

She looks at him the same time he turns to face the road.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

The question seems incongruously directed; Yoongi frowns slightly and presses his fingers against the steering wheel to stop them from tapping. 

“I am,” he says deliberately. “Are you?”

She shrugs in response. It’s a long way from her demeanour earlier today, including the investors’ meeting she hadn’t been invited to but had to attend anyway, including the nepo baby whispers he’s sure she’d heard but couldn’t respond to, and the surprise dinner invitation to him from her father she clearly hadn’t expected but needed to echo while in his presence.

Any friend of Miso’s is welcome in our home.

Kang Jaesung’s lips had curled very slightly around his words but his face had stayed unreadable. A couple of years ago, Yoongi would’ve automatically accepted it to be polite. A year ago, he would’ve found it mildly smug but still would’ve said yes, just to keep an investor happy. 

Today, he’d hesitated, his mind immediately trying to work out why he, of all people, had been personally invited to dinner at Miso’s father’s house, while Miso stood right next to him, her eyes going momentarily wide but her face staying still with an effort. Yoongi had met her eyes but she’d looked away instantly, almost as though her father went around inviting a stranger to dinner every day. 

Except he wasn’t a stranger, and Kang Jaesung knew that. The lead producer who had forced Miso into this meeting, someone who probably didn’t even know the names of the other assistant producers, had been open about why she was included. He had probably meant well, too, when he’d gushed breathlessly during his presentation, that Kang Miso has been a pillar for this project, working so hard and burning the midnight oil with her co-producer, never knowing how Yoongi’s stomach had jolted at those words and he’d faced forward - only to see Miso’s father staring right at him.

“Is it about the album?”

Yoongi is about to deny it, but he figures he may as well engage - anything but think about what’s to come.

“Er - kind of.”

Miso waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she blinks. “Yes, you’ve really painted a picture for me,” she says dryly.

Fighting the urge to sigh, he shakes his head. “The way I’ve written it… it’s perfect. If I may say so myself,” he adds hastily, glancing away from the road momentarily. “That includes a collaboration… with this absolute jackass.”

Miso makes a sound of mild surprise. He pictures her raising her eyebrows in the way she does, which could indicate anything from sympathy to mockery.

“Why’s he a jackass?”

“He said some stuff about us - BTS - back in the day.” Yoongi takes a turn into a wide street, now officially entering the suburbs of Gangnam, home to the rich and famous. Not idol rich. Businessman rich. Chaebol rich.

“What kind of stuff?” Miso prompts him.

“Just… basically implied that some of us were sell-outs for doing the idol thing instead of sticking to hip-hop.” He winces at the memory. “I mean, he apologised publicly for it later, but…” He clicks his tongue.

“You called the guy who dissed you to work on a collab?” She lets out a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound like you, Min Suga.”

He half-chuckles. “It doesn’t?”

“No. Although, I’ve dissed you a bunch of times and it hasn’t kept you from working with me.”

“Not for lack of trying, too.” He hears her snicker at that and his smile widens a bit. “I didn’t call him. He reached out to me - or, his people reached out to mine.” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know.”

Miso is quiet for a moment. “You said he apologised, though.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“And it’s good for your album?”

“It would be great - he’s an incredible rapper. But -”

“Then what’s the problem? It’s just work.”

Yoongi is about to argue but stops himself, sensing that he isn’t going to make much headway here. Things like baggage, band loyalty, camaraderie - while she understands them on an intellectual level, she seems too detached to actually spot them in reality.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

“About tonight?” Miso hesitates, then shakes her head. “There’s no point thinking about it. You never know what’s going to happen and…” She turns to him, leaning back against her side of the car. “It’s better to just be prepared for anything.”

Yoongi blinks, for this does not help him at all. But there’s a note of resignation in her tone that prevents him from pointing it out and he half-wonders if he himself is overthinking it, or if Miso has just transcended past the mad anxiety into a state of unhinged calm or something.

They don’t speak again until they reach Miso’s house - or, rather, her father’s estate. Like the last time he was here, Yoongi can’t fathom this kind of wealth - the kind that changes people, or the kind that influences things like business and politics beyond what you read in the papers.

He parks the car and they step out together, walking beside each other but with a careful distance between them all the way from the car park to the lawns sprawled in front of the house. It’s dark by now and the perfectly mown grass is damp with dew. Yoongi’s stomach churns unexpectedly; a few more steps and they will be fully visible in the glow of the lights along the garden.

“Miso.”

She takes a couple of more steps before stopping, turning around when she realises he isn’t next to her. “What?”

He stares at her and holds up his hands. “You have to give me something before we go inside. What to expect, what to say - I mean, I have no idea what’s going to happen in there,” he adds, pointing towards the house.

Miso frowns, her arms crossed. “Neither do I. This is quite literally the first time this has ever happened.” 

But something in his expression must have told her he’s serious, for a moment later, she sighs and her face softens a bit. She clears her throat and takes a small step towards him.

“Fine. Don’t tell my mother her house looks nice,” she says. “Tell her the decor is better than every celebrity’s house you’ve ever been to.” She waits for a few seconds, presumably to let this digest. “Don’t… compliment me. But also don’t insult me,” she adds, frowning. “And don’t make it seem like we’ve worked together all that much… but also kind of let it be known that I’m probably the most valuable team member you’ve ever had.”

“How -”

“And try to act intimidated by my father,” she continues, “but not in a… like a simpering way, or he’ll lose respect for you.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’m not trying to earn his respect.”

Miso purses her lips lightly. “Maybe. But trust me - you don’t want to lose it.”

He bites his lip, his head swimming. He wishes he could enter her mind to try and understand what the hell she’s talking about. But he never has and he doubts tonight is when it will change.

“Let’s go back to your earlier suggestion of not thinking about it,” he mutters. Miso pokes her tongue into her cheek, looking almost as though she’s suppressing a smile. 

“If I were a cliche, I’d tell you to just be yourself,” she tells him as they resume walking. “But that hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past, so…”

“Worked fine on me. Well, not during the first couple of years of knowing you but, you know. After that.”

Miso snorts again, covering her hand with her mouth. “New rule: do not try to make me laugh in there.”

Inexplicably, Yoongi feels his mouth twist. They are almost at her front door now, only a few steps remaining before them. “I’ll do my best, Kang Chanel.”

“Do not call me Kang Chanel in there,” she hisses, her eyes still betraying mirth. “Min Suga,” she tacks on at the end.

Yoongi wants to joke back but at that moment, she reaches forward to push open the door. Just like the first time he’d seen it, it’s enormous, creaking cleanly on hinges. When they step inside and the door closes behind them, it’s like being enclosed in a dungeon again.

The living room is expansive - but it’s also different. He frowns, trying to recall the last time he’d been here, so long ago. Had it always been green?

“Mother took on an interior decorating project earlier this year,” mutters Miso, almost as if she can hear his thoughts. “She thought cream and green were more regal.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately. Once the initial surprise dies down, the olive green and cream combination is actually not too bad, if a bit unexpected. He remembers Miso’s advice and makes a mental note to mention it to her mother.

“Where is -”

“In here.” Miso walks ahead of him, the distance between them already increasing. Yoongi follows her out of the hall and into the dining area, the entire space as big as the apartment he grew up in. The fireplace is immaculate, with electric flames dancing mildly on the base. The floors are shiny enough for him to see his reflection in, and the decor (black, white and light gold) makes him feel like he’s in a hotel. He exhales and turns to look for Miso, only to face the bar - and the bartender.

“Welcome,” says the man behind the bar. He places four glasses before him - three tumblers and one wine glass - with smooth precision. He doesn’t look up until he’s poured a whiskey into the first two glasses. “Do you drink, Yoongi?”

Yoongi starts; he realises he expected the house to be crawling with staff. A cook here, a butler there, a housekeeper, a gardener, possibly a shoe-shiner - definitely not Kang Jaesung himself standing at the bar, making his own drink.

A sound breaks through this revelation; it’s Miso clearing her throat and Yoongi realises he was asked a question.

“Uh, yes… sir.”

Kang Jaesung nods mildly but doesn’t look up, pouring a third whiskey, followed by a few drops of water in each. Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s imagining the sudden aroma of expensive whiskey. A few ice cubes clink with the bottom of each glass; Miso steps forward to pick one up and her father does the same. Just before taking a sip, he pushes the third glass an inch.

“Drink,” he says, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. There’s no please, no hint of a question or an offer, but something about his tone takes Yoongi off guard. It’s not a challenge, or even an order - but he doesn’t know what it is either.

After hesitating for a moment, Yoongi picks up the drink. He takes a sip to discover the smoothest whiskey he has ever tasted, and his stomach twists painfully at the thought of how much this bottle would’ve cost.

“Delicious whiskey, Father,” says Miso, standing by the dining table. 

“It’s Scottish,” he replies in answer, now retrieving a bottle of Cabernet from the shelf behind him and pouring it into the remaining wine glass. He finally steps out from behind the bar just as, as if on cue, Miso’s mother appears in a spotless white sleeveless pantsuit. 

“For my lady,” he murmurs, reaching her and offering her the wine. They exchange a momentary hint of a smile and clink their glasses together before drinking together.

Yoongi frowns but immediately straightens his face, instead turning to look at Miso and hoping to see his own confusion reflected in her face. But she isn’t looking confused; in fact, she isn’t even looking at him. She’s walking towards the expansive kitchen and scanning the food neatly laid out - trays of sushi, the choicest cuts of lamb, devilled eggs and salmon. It seems like an awful lot for only four people, but before he can dwell on it, he hears his name.

“Yoongi.” It’s Miso’s mother this time. “How lovely to see you again.”

For some reason, my mother’s got it in her head that I’m her competition. Yoongi’s mind immediately goes back to the hotel, to the restaurant opening, to the coat closet. To his horror, he can feel his cheeks heat up and he hopes to the heavens that they aren’t changing colour.

“You, too, Mrs Kang.”

He bows, a little belatedly, but finds she has simply brushed past him and into the dining area. “Your - your house is beautiful. Much more than some of the other houses I’ve been to in Gangnam,” he adds quickly.

Kang Sera says nothing but a moment later she raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, looking somewhat satisfied. “Thank you. It’s changed a lot since you were last here.”

Yoongi is sure he spots Miso’s eyes widening for a fraction of a second but before he can react, she’s smoothly changed the subject.

“The new drapes are lovely, too, Mother. They are imported, you know?” she says. “From Italy.”

It takes him a moment to realise he’s expected to respond. Meeting her eyes briefly, he nods. “They’re… wonderful.”

There’s a brief silence during which Kang Sera, looking almost bored, takes a seat at one end of the table. Her husband follows suit and sits at the other end after which, finally, Miso pulls out a chair along one of the sides.

“You should offer a seat to our guest first, Miso.” Kang Jaesung speaks, sounding like he’s chiding her for not doing her homework on time. “Yoongi. I apologise for my daughter.”

“Oh, no, that’s - that’s quite alright,” he replies hastily, not quite sure why he’s stuttering. He pulls up a chair as well, directly opposite Miso, who’s pursing her lips with her eyes on her glass.

Kang Jaesung makes a motion and as if out of nowhere, two men appear from somewhere near the kitchen and pick up the trays of food, beginning to silently serve them. 

“So, Yoongi. I hear you’ve been working for Big Hit for a few years now.”

It’s not a question. Yoongi isn’t immediately sure how to respond, especially since no one has ever referred to him as “working” for Big Hit before.

“I - yes. Eight years. Eleven, if you count training.”

“Training?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised, sounding barely interested.

“Yes. All idols need to train before they can debut. Before they can begin releasing music,” he adds, as if to clarify. But then the next second he cringes inwardly, wondering if that comes across as patronising.

“Idol? So… do you dance and sing and all that?” There’s a hint of a smile on his face, teetering between confusion and amusement. 

He instinctively bristles, becoming instantly defensive. But Yoongi gets a distinct feeling that the question is meant to unsettle him, and he nods.

“That’s right. Sir. I also work as a producer for the company, though.”

Kang Jaesung observes him for a moment, then raises his eyebrows and nods, sitting back in his chair, spine straight. “That’s quite impressive. Two jobs, two roles. Two ways to make the company dependent on you,” he adds, his smile widening slightly, as though sharing a private joke. “Impressive.”

It occurs to Yoongi only now that as such a big stakeholder of Big Hit, it seems unlikely that he would not know about Yoongi’s participation in the group. But the thought seems benign; instinctively, Yoongi smiles back, albeit a little uncomfortably.

“Do you think it’s impressive, Miso?”

Yoongi’s heart jerks a little, but Miso doesn’t even flinch. “It is,” she answers, before looking at Yoongi briefly. “Congratulations.”

Their kiss in the coat closet might as well have been a figment of Yoongi’s imagination for all the distance she’s displaying right now. He tells himself it’s a part she’s playing (too well, possibly) but for now, he finds himself wishing she would at least meet his eyes for longer than a second.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you and Miso are working together,” he continues, as the last of the food is finally served and the waiters shuffle away just as quietly as they’d appeared. “I didn’t think much of it in the beginning but it might be worth it for the experience. And the role models.”

Yoongi can’t tell if he’s being made fun of. There’s that twinkle in Kang Jaesung’s eye again, like he’s bringing Yoongi in on a joke, but a bigger part of his brain is focused on Miso. Surely - surely - this must be making Kang Miso’s blood boil?

Miso takes a sip of her whiskey and looks at her father, tilting her head slightly. “I told you there was an upside, Father,” she says, almost teasingly.

Kang Jaesung nods and smiles, raising his glass slightly. “I concede to you there.”

From across the table, Miso’s mother chuckles. “You may have done the impossible, Miso. Your father doesn’t admit defeat so easily.”

They all laugh lightly and begin tucking into their plates, while Yoongi watches in horrid fascination. It’s as though he’s watching a play - a terribly written play with rubbish storytelling, with actors simply reading off a script.

As the dinner progresses, the same line of delicate conversation continues. Kang Jaesung asks a question whose answer seems elusive as ever, Yoongi uneasily provides one anyway, he responds with a statement that could be taken in ten different ways, while his wife and daughter interject occasionally.

Try as he might, Yoongi can’t understand Kang Jaesung. Until today, he had pigeonholed the business magnate as a narcissistic, sociopathic capitalist who struck a mysterious fear in Miso. Yoongi hated his very existence on principle - which is why he cannot fathom how he is not only sitting next to Kang Jaesung and eating his food and drinking his booze, but he is actually trying.

It’s hard to admit but somewhere through dinner, Yoongi realises he’s genuinely intimidated by Kang Jaesung. It’s not hostile in nature, but the mild smiles and the sparing, passive aggressive compliments make Yoongi want to correct him - to actively appear better in front of him.

The Kangs continue to put on this charade of a well-natured, riffing family which would be amusing if it weren’t so obviously untrue. He wonders how and why Miso is participating, until it occurs to him that this little production isn’t being put on for his benefit. No, it seems far too rehearsed, almost as if it’s been going on for years. 

He also realises a little while later, when there’s a momentary pause after a joke that he’s suddenly sure has broken this facade (but results in a borderline haunting chuckle from Kang Jaesung), that the only reason it seems so fake to him is because he knows it’s fake. Everything Miso has told him, however grudgingly, about her family has been with disdain and resignation and he is suddenly sure he is the first and only person she has ever confided in.

Yoongi tries to meet Miso’s eyes, but it seems hopeless now. She’s acting like he’s just a colleague. Even worse, she’s channelling the Miso he met and resented instantly over a year ago, ignoring the waiters who serve her and seeming more in tune with her horrible wealthy parents than ever.

It isn’t until the dinner is coming to an end, the last course of smoked lamb and caviar (Caviar? On a Wednesday night?) being cleared away that Yoongi gets any indication at all that he isn’t stuck in the most mediocre nightmare he’s ever had. 

Miso has just nonchalantly laughed off a rather backhanded comment by her mother regarding her relationship status. Yoongi, for a plethora of reasons, grits his teeth at this but holds his tongue, biting his lip until his phone buzzes in on the seat of the chair next to him. He’s about to ignore it until he sees Miso’s name flash across the screen.

His chest jolts; looking around and deciding that the minor transition movement of the plates being cleared away, Kang Jaesung checking his phone and Kang Sera motioning for another drink, is safe for him to swipe up the screen.

Kang Chanel [20:35] Fix your face, Min Suga.

Yoongi grits his teeth harder - but, he realises a moment later, only to keep from accidentally smiling. His eyes snap up to look at her but she’s finishing her drink, looking rather haughty and bored in her own dining room, as though she can’t wait for this night to be over.

Yoongi can relate. He is supposed to meet Jungkook to record a demo tonight, he remembers suddenly. Eleven pm was what they had agreed upon which seems doable, but also seems too far away. 

“So, Yoongi,” says Kang Jaesung, as dessert starts being served. “What do you think of my daughter?”

There’s a moment where no one speaks, and Yoongi simply blinks. “Sir?”

He raises his eyebrows. “As her superior,” he clarifies slowly, “what do you think of her? Do you think she has a future in music?”

For the first time all night, Yoongi deliberately does not look in Miso’s direction. “She does,” he replies honestly. “She has shown a good understanding of the different elements of making music and… well, she’s worked on quite a few collaborations that have gone on to release.”

Kang Jaesung smiles; the same small, mild, perfunctory smile. “That’s good to hear, I suppose. Although, it’s tough,” he muses. “You see, for a man in my position, I have to be… discerning, when I hear about my own family. Miso is my heir and I have to be sure that my life’s work, my fortune… it’s in the right hands. I have no doubt she works hard but she will never truly know the desperation to make it,” he says casually, as though his heir and legacy isn’t sitting five feet away from him. “Not like you and me.”

Yoongi’s stomach twists; he feels nauseous. He doesn’t know if it’s Miso being called her father’s “heir”, or Kang Jaesung’s familiarity in lumping himself and Yoongi together, or the fact that a part deep down inside him, the part that once thought very less of Kang Chanel for the exact same reasons, almost agrees. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on how much Kang Jaesung might know of his own struggles; whether he is simply guessing or he’s had a PI tailing him. But it’s dawning on him that accepting this invitation was a huge mistake, on every level. He can’t imagine looking Miso in the eye right now. Does she assume he agrees with her father?

“I suppose one can’t be held responsible for their childhood… sir,” he says finally, feeling both defensive yet drained. “But you can be proud of Miso’s work ethic. She is an asset to - to the team.”

Kang Jaesung nods, then frowns. “I wish I could take your word for it, Yoongi. But you are just one person in the company.”

“Yes, but I have worked with Miso the longest, on multiple songs,” he replies, trying not to sound too argumentative. “It’s been over a year and I can - I can tell you, sir… she has grown a lot. I can vouch for that.”

There’s silence again. Kang Jaesung licks his lips slowly, the hint of a smile still present, observing Yoongi as though he’s just noticed him for the first time. For a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s convinced him, but a movement in his periphery distracts him. 

He turns to look at Kang Sera, who’s just placed a hand under her chin with one slender finger over her mouth, a grim sort of satisfaction on her face. Next to her, Miso is finally looking directly at him, her eyes wary.

And Yoongi realises he might have made a terrible mistake.

—

The Kangs’ living room, now that he’s actually in it, is enormous. It’s like a hotel ballroom, like an extremely luxurious prison cell where a billionaire might be forced to stay in solitary for the crime of not wasting money.

A waiter appears at Yoongi’s elbow where he’s by the floor-to-ceiling glass case, holding a silver tray with a small white coffee cup.

“It’s Arabic,” says Miso’s mother, the only person sitting, legs folded elegantly underneath her on the plush white sofa. “Handpicked coffee beans that are dried and shipped in airtight containers to our doorstep. Costs a fortune.”

Shocker. Yoongi takes a sip; it’s good, but not worthy of a soliloquy.

“It’s delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”

She nods in satisfaction and goes back to her phone, manicured talons swiping up the screen while she sips her coffee.

“Did you drive here, Yoongi?” Kang Jaesung asks, standing at the other end of the glass case, one hand holding a cup and the other in his pocket, observing a plaque displayed inside.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you find the house alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the guards outside? Did they give you any trouble?” He tilts his head towards Yoongi, almost jovially. “They are instructed to protect the house from outsiders after all.”

Yoongi grits his teeth again, frustrated. It’s a double-edged sword, one that cannot keep those guards from getting in trouble either way unless he gives Kang Jaesung the exact response he wants. 

“They recognised Miso, sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course. You drove her here,” he feigns remembering. “I almost forgot.”

Bullshit.

“How nice of you, Yoongi.” Kang Sera looks up from across the room, her gaze flickering towards Miso by the corner of one of the armchairs, shoulders hunched and silently staring into her coffee. “You and Miso must really go far back for you to offer her a ride. Or you’re just a very good boss.” She titters.

No, you witch. Your husband took the car and the driver, and outright asked me to drive your daughter home - apparently just so he can fuck with us.

Kang Jaesung chuckles in agreement, and Yoongi wants to throw the steaming contents of his cup in the older man’s face.

“You’re a lucky girl, Miso,” her father says, glancing back at her. “But she’s always been lucky. She graduated from a university in New Zealand - a year early,” he adds. “Did you know that, Yoongi?”

“Australia,” mutters Miso, but no one save for Yoongi seems to hear her.

“Come. Take a look.” Kang Jaesung motions to Yoongi to join him and waits until he does. He points to a plaque inside, with the name of a university, followed by Class of 2012 embossed in bronze. On the left side is a space for a photo frame, with a picture of a much younger Miso in a red and white graduation gown, holding a diploma.

“Wow,” murmurs Yoongi, only for a lack of anything else to say. 

Her father hums. “Two years after this, she got her business degree from Columbia - Columbia University, that’s in America - but she wanted to move back to Australia straight after.” He shakes his head. “I tried to talk her out of it but she’s really quite stubborn that way.”

Something about this anecdote just does not sound correct at all, but Yoongi knows it’s not his place to ask - not here, anyway. He makes a mental note to bring it up with Miso later, but for now, he just wants this dinner to end.

“I’m sure we have the plaque for that, too - Miso, come here and help me look.”

For a moment, it looks as though Miso might decline but then she walks over, moving straight past Yoongi who takes this opportunity to step away from Kang Jaesung’s immediate radius so he’s standing a few feet away from both father and daughter who are by the glass case.

“Over there,” she mutters, pointing to right behind the first plaque.

“Oh, of course. It’s getting blocked by this.” He opens the case and shifts a framed magazine cover with his own face on it - looking blazing and stony and worldly all at once - and brings Miso’s Columbia plaque forward.

“There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?” 

Miso sips her coffee noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi gets the feeling she was expected to, however, and finds himself responding.

“Congratulations on the Time cover. Sir.” 

“Thank you. I suppose achievement is genetic as well.” He smiles and looks from his daughter to his wife - the latter of whom has now put down her phone. Any remnant of phone humour has left her face as she stares at her husband, who’s looked away by now.

“They are both quite impressive, Yoongi,” she says after a moment. “In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t see it the last time you were here.”

It’s the second time she’s brought up his last visit to this house, during a time when the only feelings Yoongi could muster towards Miso were resentment, annoyance and some amount of pity. There’s no avoiding it this time, though; Kang Jaesung picks up on it immediately.

“What’s that?” He frowns, his tone sharper than it has been all evening. His eyes snap up to Yoongi. “I didn’t realise you’d been here before.”

He’s telling the truth, Yoongi realises. All evening, Kang Jaesung has been one, maybe several steps ahead of them. This time, though, he’s been caught off guard.

“Of course he has. It was at the family gathering last summer. Don’t you remember, darling? Miso brought Yoongi as her date - I was so excited until Miso told me they were simply colleagues.” She titters again, but there’s no humour there whatsoever.

Yoongi can’t accurately judge the severity of the situation, but even though she’s a few feet away, he can’t almost feel Miso stiffen.

“I see,” says Kang Jaesung, softly. “How amusing.”

“He wasn’t a date, Father,” says Miso, eyes flickering upwards but not meeting her fathers’. “I invited him as a guest, because he was my boss at the time. You had met him, too, in the studio.”

“Is that right? Well, now. It might be my mistake,” he says suddenly. “I wasn’t made aware that I was… setting something else in motion.” His lips curl around the words. “I suppose girls never grow out of keeping things from their fathers.”

There’s the same pretence of good-natured family humour, but Yoongi is not fooled this time. It’s the most tense, uncomfortable situation he can remember being in. He looks up to see Kang Jaesung watching his daughter, while Miso’s fingers tighten around her cup.

Maybe it’s completely innocuous, but something about the motion makes Yoongi’s gaze move to her hands and an image flashes in his mind, of a bluish purple mark on her wrist.

It all happens in an instant. Kang Jaesung raises his hand very slightly - he may have simply been reaching for his phone for all Yoongi knows - to his right, Miso inhales shakily, and Yoongi instinctively steps in between them. At the last second he places his empty coffee cup on the table under the glass case, attempting to be nonchalant.

But the damage is done. Kang Jaesung’s gaze bores into Yoongi, a few seconds which feel like they last several hours, until finally he takes a step back.

“I think we might call it a night here,” he suggests, taking a sip of his coffee and placing his cup right next to Yoongi’s. He picks up his phone and moves away, as though already having forgotten. “Yoongi… forgive me. I’m a busy man.”

Yoongi nods jerkily. “Of course. Thank you for the invite. The dinner was wonderful. Thank you, Mrs Kang,” he adds after a moment. He moves to leave, careful not to acknowledge Miso at all. Just as he’s almost out of the living room, his heart uncomfortably and irregularly beating, Kang Jaesung speaks again.

“Miso, please escort our guest to his car.” 

“Of course.”

There’s no time for Yoongi to react. Miso walks towards him and motions for him to continue, and they exit the house together, down the stairs and across the lawn in complete silence. Yoongi is too on edge to speak, not even sure where to begin. But the mansion looms behind him, opulent and intimidating and it isn’t until they cross beyond the lights bordering the lawn and reach his car in the dark parking lot that Yoongi is finally confident enough to openly face her. 

“Miso,” he says, and he is shocked to hear the worry in his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened but I - I swear I didn’t mean to say -”

He’s cut off almost instantly, however. Her face is shrouded in the dark of the night underneath a moonless sky, but he can still see the smile flicker across her face before she reaches forward and kisses him.

It takes Yoongi a few bewildered seconds to respond but by the time he can register it, it’s already over.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She doesn’t look or sound happy, but the smile is still there, almost resigned. She looks like she wants to say more but gives up quickly. On some level, Yoongi is glad. He doesn’t know if either of them wants it out there, in the universe: the implications of his instincts, the reason for their being. But they can’t deny that it happened and that for a moment, someone stood between her and her father.

“I’ll see you around, Yoongi,” she says. Before he can say anything, she turns around and walks back to her house.

—

Miso doesn’t come into work the next day. Yoongi does an all-nighter at the studio, but even when he returns in the late afternoon, after a nap and scarfing down some instant ramen, she still isn’t there. He waits, fidgeting throughout the day, but she never comes. She doesn’t come the next day either, or the day after that.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to feel. Paranoid is a safe word, especially because it implies a fear of nothing in specific, which is exactly what it seems like right now. He calls her, half-heartedly, only to get her voicemail. Disappointed but not quite surprised, he asks Donghyuk.

“She called in sick a couple of days ago,” he supplies, which sounds like bullshit to Yoongi but is none of Donghyuk’s business.

Finally, after four days during which Yoongi tries hard to suppress his helplessness so he can work, Miso returns.

Yoongi is in his studio, working with a young solo artist on a track for her second studio album. They are debating a lyric in the second verse, stuck on the inflection of a particular word, when the door to his studio opens.

“Yoongi,” says Miso, in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “Donghyuk is asking if you will be available any time today to prep for the marketing meeting tomorrow.”

It’s a full ten seconds before Yoongi is able to answer. It isn’t until she raises her eyebrows and gives him a look that he snaps out of it.

“I - yes. I will be. Uh… when?”

“I don’t know. He’s not here right now, but I can ask him when he gets back.” With that, she nods and retreats, the door swinging shut behind her.

Yoongi stays still, glued to his seat, and takes a deep breath. “Where were we?” he asks the artist next to him, barely noticing when she points out the line they were discussing. He nods and they stay on the topic, tone neutral, while Yoongi counts to a hundred and twenty in his head.

“You know what? Just give me a minute,” he says apologetically, already standing up. “I forgot something - but keep at it. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.” He gives her an encouraging thumbs up before calmly walking out of his studio. The moment the door closes behind him, he rushes to Donghyuk’s studio. 

Without knocking, he throws open the door to see Miso standing at the opposite end of the studio, leaning back against the wall and typing something into her phone. She looks up the moment he enters and a smile starts to form on her face.

Yoongi exhales and strides in, and they meet halfway in a hug. 

“Fucking hell, Kang Miso,” he murmurs, realising at this very moment that not only had he been worried this whole time, but he’d also missed her. “Could’ve dropped me a text or something, you know?”

She chuckles dryly, and her arms tighten around his neck for a moment before she relaxes and steps away. She looks the same as always, but a bit more subdued somehow. He can’t put his finger on it exactly; it’s something in the eyes-face-hair area but the smile she cracks is the same as always.

“Nothing nearly interesting enough to text you about,” she replies, shrugging. “I’m sure me being gone was a net positive - you probably got a lot more work done without me snarking about it.”

“Shut up, that’s not funny,” he mutters, but feels his lips twitch anyway. “Jesus, Miso, where… I mean, how…” He trails away, suddenly with no idea what to ask. A sudden memory flashes through his mind and he grabs her hand, pushing her sleeve up to reveal her pale, slender wrist.

Yoongi blinks at it for a few seconds before slowly meeting her eyes, part relieved and part embarrassed. Miso’s head is tilted slightly, as though she knows where his mind is. He’s saved from trying to speak when the studio door opens and it’s Hyeongseo, the artist he’s been working with all day.

“Hey - oh, sorry,” she says vaguely. Yoongi realises he’s still holding Miso’s hand and drops it immediately, turning away from her. “It’s just… I need to head out for a shoot soon, so…”

“Of course.” He nods and follows Hyeongseo out of the studio but stops just short of the exit to look at Miso. “We’ll, uh…”

She crosses her arms across her chest and nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” There’s a moment of awkward silence during which Yoongi’s feet won’t move. “Don’t leave,” he blurts out, managing to add a warning tone to it at the end to cover up the mortification.

Thankfully she chuckles and waves him away. “Go do some work, Min Suga.”

And Yoongi does just that. For the next hour, he pores over the rest of the song with Hyeongseo and even manages to record a rough demo for their next meeting. His mind is catching the most minute beats and sounds and pronunciations with ease and by the time they listen to the final version of the demo, he’s surprised even himself.

He doesn’t go back to Donghyuk’s studio, though, even after Hyeongseo leaves. He spends a while longer on other work, returns some emails, goes on a smoke break - anything to not be the one to try and accost Miso again, especially after that overeager Don’t leave!

At some point during the night, she drops him a text.

Kang Chanel [21:50] Donghyuk has managed to pick the absolute worst pizza place in the damn city.

It takes Yoongi a few minutes to decode the message, after which he simply decides she wants him to come over on the pretext of helping finish some sub-standard pizza. He turns out to be correct on all accounts and while he’s initially mildly disappointed to see Donghyuk there as well, it ends up being for the best, for it’s the first time since he’s ever known Miso that they have both hung out as friends, with friends, eating pizza and joking around without any sort of awkwardness or discomfort. 

Despite Donghyuk’s reputation for crassness and abrasive attitude, he and Miso genuinely seem to be friends. Yoongi is uncertain how much he knows or what he thinks he’s deduced; it becomes somewhat clear when Donghyuk finally decides to head out for the night and tells them very cryptically to not to do anything he wouldn’t do. It elicits a chuckle from Miso, and Yoongi finds himself grateful on two counts as the other producer bids them goodbye.

“The pizza wasn’t nearly as bad as you made it out to be,” says Yoongi after a moment, when it’s just the two of them. They’re on a revolving chair each, about five feet away from each other.

“Clearly, since you polished off four slices,” she points out, stretching her arms and gathering her hair into a ponytail. She hitches one of her legs up on the chair, the soles of her Converse shoes slightly muddy, and sighs tiredly.

Yoongi glances down at his hands. They’re finally alone but it hits him that despite a lot of worrying, he’s had no way of preparing for this moment.

“So what have I missed?” Miso asks, as though she’s been on vacation. “Aside from that weird new security scanner they have on the floor.”

He doesn’t look up. “A sasaeng managed to break into the building. Twelve hours later, it was there.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Wow, some people have a lot of time on their hands. Who was she here for? Wait - is it offensive to assume it was a girl?”

“Miso,” he says.

“Hm?”

Yoongi meets her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” he asks softly.

“Home,” she answers, without missing a beat.

“Home?”

“Home,” she confirms. “You were there a few days ago.”

He ignores the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I remember your house,” he mutters. “So you were just… in your house, the last four days?” When she shrugs, he blinks. “Why?”

“I mean…” Miso shifts in her chair and sighs, as though the answer should be obvious. “As you could probably tell, that dinner did not go all that well. My father said he needed to decide if he could - quote unquote - trust me.” She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue nonchalantly. “So I couldn’t go to work until he was sure.” She shrugs again.

The questions in Yoongi’s mind are endless. “So… what? He trusts you now?”

“Apparently.”

“Like, he gave you permission to come to work today?”

“I guess you could call it that.” 

Yoongi sighs deeply. “Miso, come on. I’ve been worried sick about you - I thought I got you in trouble. You’ve got to give me something more here.”

For a moment, she looks like she’s about to argue, but then her eyes soften slightly. “Yoongi, there’s really nothing more to tell. I’m serious - I know what you’re thinking,” she adds when he opens his mouth to retort. “Okay? The sleeve thing was pretty obvious. But I promise you, I was mostly just in my room, getting bored, getting my meals delivered to my doorstep, and trying to read War and Peace.”

“What -”

“It’s a book.”

He stares, feeling a very familiar annoyance surfacing. “I was going to ask, What about your phone?” he clarifies slowly. “Or could you not just drop me a text to let me know you were okay?”

For the first time, Miso hesitates. “My phone… may have been taken away. It was brought to me this morning along with my breakfast, which is how I figured I was good to come in today.”

It occurs to Yoongi that he isn’t about to get any further details about her disappearance. From where he’s standing, it sounds as though she was locked in her room for four days with no means of communication until her villain of a father deemed it okay for her to be released. But Miso’s tone seems extremely incongruous to the situation, sounding almost unbothered, and it’s frustrating on multiple levels.

“You know…” He begins, then stops. This could backfire. “I hope you know that you can trust me,” he tries again. “You can tell me if… well, anything.” He waits.

She observes him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll say it,” she states abruptly. “No, I wasn’t hurt. My father doesn’t really have a taste for violence.”

Yoongi scoffs without meaning to; despite having no evidence to the contrary, he finds that hard to believe.

“I’m not saying he’s not capable of it,” she amends, “but it’s not his style.”

“Yeah? What is his style?”

“This,” she answers, surprising him. “Power. And control. Something that night made him feel like he wasn’t fully in control of the situation,” she says, and her pause indicates to Yoongi that they both know what that probably was. “So this was his way of making sure I know who’s really in charge. He’s done it before,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

What the fuck? “So…” Yoongi struggles to form a coherent sentence for a few seconds. “So what changed? What did he do in those four days that changed everything?”

“I don’t know!” Miso exclaims, half-chuckling. “Who the hell knows what goes in my father’s head? It’s pointless to try and figure it out after a point. But you shook him in a way that I haven’t seen in a while,” she admits after a moment.

He can’t deduce if this is meant to be a compliment. “I really thought I got you in trouble,” he murmurs. “I tried to keep my distance but I think I might have…” He trails off.

“Yoongi.” She shifts in her chair so she’s facing him completely. “This wasn’t your fault,” she tells him, as though it just occurred to her that this might be a possibility to him. 

“But you told me, even back at that restaurant opening, that your mother would get all crazy and even before the dinner, you said -”

“Yeah, but that’s not what happened here,” she interrupts him. “Yoongi, my father knows I’ve had relationships with men. I mean, I’m almost thirty - it’s not that shocking. That is not why I asked you to keep your distance. I mean, it is, but…” She shakes her head. “Not in the way that you think.”

Yoongi runs his hand down his face. He can’t imagine growing up like this, living, constantly, in a cold war with your parents.

“Look, somehow, all the guys I’ve ever been with - and there haven’t been that many of them - have always been related to my father in a way. They were either in the same social circle or their fathers worked for my father, or they worked for my father.”

“I don’t work for your father,” he says immediately.

She frowns. “Don’t you?”

The minute detail of Kang Jaesung being a Hybe stakeholder had slipped Yoongi’s mind, and the fact suddenly makes him want to vomit.

“The only guy that had nothing to do with my father was this guy I was seeing when I lived in Australia,” she continues. “The moment they got wind of the fact that it was getting slightly serious, I was made to return to Seoul.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. Perhaps Miso realises why, for her tone is suddenly gentler.

“But you may be the first one of them to ever make him feel threatened. And I’m not just talking about the thing at the end,” she clarifies, a hint of a smile on her lips.

It takes him a moment, but he returns it. Her kiss had lingered for hours after the fact - days, even - and Yoongi had remembered it with guilt and longing in equal measure. He wishes this were easier.

“Why don’t you leave, Miso?” he asks, noting how she stiffens. “Haven’t you even thought about it?”

It’s clear from the way she turns away from him ever so slightly that this isn’t where she expected the conversation to go. 

“It’s not that easy,” she says flatly.

“Not at first, sure. But you’re twenty-nine - I mean, it’s pretty common to move out by this age,” he points out. “I’m sure you have savings. You can get an apartment - or I can help you out. But… why are you still here?”

She presses her tongue into her cheek. “It’s complicated.”

He’s about to argue, when something else stirs in his memory of that dinner. “By the way… can I ask you something?” He takes her begrudging raise of the eyebrows as a yes. “What did your father mean when he said… that you’re his heir?”

She’s silent for so long that he thinks she may not answer at all. “He meant exactly what you think he meant,” she says eventually.

“So you’re going to inherit… what? His whole company?”

“I’m a chaebol. You know what that means, right?”

He does, it’s true. Not only does he know it in theory, he knows she is one. He’s called her that, multiple times; in the early days of their tense dynamic, it felt harsher than nepo baby.

“What did you do about your collab?” she asks before he can continue on his train of thought.

“Oh -” Yoongi pauses. “Um - nothing. Yet. Still debating what to do next.”

“Still? Either this artist is epic or you’re just overthinking this, Min Suga.”

“Genius Dragon is unfortunately that good, but I’m not overthinking for no good reason. It’s -”

“Hold on - his name is Genius Dragon?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a mouthful.”

“Not to mention original.” She rolls her eyes and winces. “God, I remember this guy. I think I attended a workshop he took a million years ago.”

“Yeah?” This is surprising. “What did you think of him?”

“Kind of full of himself,” she mutters. From this, Yoongi gathers that she agrees with his assessment about the rapper’s talent. “But if he’s that good… come on, don’t tell me this is still about something he said to you a decade ago.”

“It’s not about me,” he retorts, a little defensively. “This album is personal, and this particular song is even more so. Aside from the fact that he’s from Daegu also… he struggled, too. He gets it - and I think that’s why he was harder on Namjoon and the rest of the group, because he thought they made me soft. That’s also why he’s the best choice for this song, though,” he mutters, dropping his head against the back of the chair.

“Isn’t Namjoon an artist, too? Won’t he understand that?” she points out.

“He -” Yoongi sighs. “He might. He’ll never stop me from doing this, if that’s what I want. None of them will.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

It should be obvious, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to say anything other than, “It’s complicated.”

There’s a pause during which he looks up and sees her still looking away, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, almost in satisfaction. Her words from a little while ago ring, and he concludes that she’s still miffed with his persistence.

“Hey.” Yoongi reaches forward towards her; hooking his hand under the seat of her chair, he pulls it towards him. It works; despite the fact that she turns to look at him like it’s a massive effort, there’s a softness that’s returned. The arms of their chairs are touching, and they’re closer than they’ve been all night.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” he admits. Miso nods before leaning forward and kissing him.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed without either of them being taken by surprise, or in secret with the fear of being found out. Yoongi hasn’t cut his hair since the last leg of his tour; a pleasant shiver runs down his spine when her fingers brush against the ends at the nape of his neck. 

The last thing he wants is to rush this. In the absence of anything else in their way, the kiss is slow and exploratory, with an air of relief that Yoongi knows is not one-sided. He squeezes her knee and she gets up off her chair; without breaking the kiss, slides onto his lap, straddling him with a comfortable weight.

Yoongi wraps an arm around her waist, holding her face to his as gently as he can as her shoulder-length locks brush against his cheek. She sighs into his mouth and his heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t pull away. He can’t imagine it. She smells of something that vaguely reminds him of jasmine but still feels expensive, and he pulls her even closer.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs against his lips, “is that your phone in your front pocket?”

Yoongi freezes, realising a second later that his phone is indeed vibrating in his front pocket. “Among other things,” he mutters, regretfully pulling away slightly and fishing it out of his pocket. His heart sinks when he sees Bang PD’s name flashing on the screen.

“You need to take that,” she tells him, reading the screen upside-down. She moves her torso back and shakes her hair out of her face and off her neck. “And I… I need to get home.”

His phone is still ringing. “Do you want me to drop you home?” he asks as she climbs off his lap.

She gives him a small smile. “Thanks. But Seungkwan is here, so he can…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

Fifth ring. Yoongi closes his eyes - he needs to take this call. He stands up and reaches the door, hesitating before opening it. There’s a lot that needs to be said and done, but nothing comes to mind. A moment later, Yoongi realises only one of them really matters.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks, his hand on the door handle.

“Yes, you will,” she confirms, already starting to pack up the electronics. Her nonchalance is betrayed by the small smile widening a bit. “Now take that damn call, Min Suga.”

He chuckles and nods. “See you tomorrow, Kang Miso,” he says, before stepping out of the studio and answering his phone.

—

As the sun set slowly at the horizon you had decided to take matters in your own hand. You had dressed up in the black lingerie you had bought especially for today and walked over to the greenhouse.

You called out again, closing your eyes and hoping to hear Mingi from somewhere inside the jungle-like atmosphere.

Once again you heard nothing. You sighed deeply, closing the door to the greenhouse again. 

Mingi told you to never enter it due to his various and dangerous plants he had in there. So far you have listened to him.

Today, though, you were fessed up with that rule. You pushed the door open again, stepping inside. Your certain steps faltered the second the door closed behind you and you started second guessing yourself. You shook your head, new determination flooding your system as you followed the narrow path deeper into the greenery.

Your eyes flickered around the area. Various shades of green surrounded you, almost engulfing you. If it weren’t for the small path you stood on, you would have probably lost your orientation and would never find the entrance again. 

Though with the path you felt quite confident, a small chuckle leaving your lips as you remembered Mingi’s warning. You looked around again, questioning what exactly could be that dangerous around here.

Sure, Mingi had lots of unique plants with all kinds of magical abilities but you thought as long as you didn’t touch them you should be fine.

“Mingi?” You called out again, turning around your own axis in hopes to see him somewhere. A deep sigh built up in your chest, disappointment of not finding him anywhere spreading through your body. You crouched down and wrapped your arms around your legs, resting your forehead on your knees.

In that position and with your soft whining you didn’t notice the rustling in the nearby greens. Neither did you notice the thick vines slithering towards you until it was too late.

You yelped when the biggest vine wrapped itself around your middle and pulled you up into the air. Another scream ripped through your throat when more smaller vines appeared around you, circling around your thrashing limbs and stopping you in your movements. 

The vines had you positioned like a starfish in the air with all your limbs stretched away from your body. They left you completely immobile and helpless.

You called out for Mingi again, fear gripping your insides as the vines continued to circle around your limbs and torso. Though your screams for help turned into surprised gasps once the vines reached your upper thighs, rubbing over your clothed core.

While you couldn’t say what kind of plant had you in their clutches but your fear got diluted with something else. You swallowed dryly, looking down at your body and seeing the round tip of the vine rubbing over your lingerie. 

“Oh gods”, you exhaled shakily as the vine put pressure on your covered clit. 

Even more vines appeared from the thicket, prodding and tucking at your lingerie and body. Soft mewls tumbled from your lips as the vines found their way underneath your clothing. The rough texture of the plant quickly built up the pleasure inside of you.

You closed your eyes, head tilting backwards, as a moan ripped through your throat. Two small vines encircled your hardened nipples, clamping down on the buds in an addictive rhythm. 

The clearing of a throat made you open your eyes again. You blinked several times until your vision focused on the figure standing in front of you. “Mingi”, you mewled, the fear finally subsiding completely with him being there.

You bit on your lower lip while your eyes raked over his form. He wiped his dirty hands on his cargo pants, pulling out a cloth from one of the many pockets to clean his hands even better. Your gaze wandered from his long, slender fingers over his upper body. The tight black tank top highlighted everything: his thin waist, his toned chest and abs. All of it made you yearn for him even more now.

Mingi had tinted glasses for protection on, so you couldn’t see where he was looking, but from his raging hard on in his pants you had an inkling.

“I told you not to come in here”, he told you, his voice even deeper than usual from his own desire.

You mewled again, helplessly wriggling in your confines. “I wanted to see you.” You moaned out his name when one of the vines pressed against your core.

“Yet you’re quite occupied with my morsa labrusca.” Mingi pushed the cloth back into his pocket, grabbing his belt instead and opening it slowly.

Your eyes immediately zeroed in on that motion, your mouth salivating at the thought of seeing his hard dick. 

A smirk played over his lips. He opened his pants painfully slowly, pushing his boxers down and freeing his hard on. With his large hand he grabbed his cock at the base, pumping it a few times until precum glistened at the top of it.

Meanwhile the vines pushed your panties to the side, revealing your throbbing cunt to Mingi’s view. The tip prodded at your entrance for a moment longer before it pushed inside. You cried out at the intrusion, quivering from the pleasure that coursed through your body. 

Mingi mimicked the pace of the vine pushing into you to jerk himself off, looking extremely confident and cocky the way he stood there and simply watched you getting fucked in the air. He adjusted his grip around his shaft every time your walls clamped around the vine. “Fuck baby, you look so incredible.” 

You moaned loudly. Once again you tried moving, wishing for Mingi to touch you or take you. Seeing Mingi please himself, drove you crazy. “Please”, you begged with a whimper, “please, touch me.”

He chuckled darkly and slowly stepped closer, raising his free hand to your lower body. His fingers ghosted over your bare skin, skimming along the edges of your lingerie. “So fucking beautiful”, he rasped out. Mingi placed his thumb on your clit, circling it and pressing down until you screamed out his name and came for the first time.

Though Mingi wasn’t done with you by far. He walked around you until his front and cock were pressed against your behind. He rubbed it between your ass cheeks, groaning from the pleasure. His hand wandered back to your front, playing with your clit for a moment before he moved it upwards and ripped one of the vines away from your breasts. Just so he was able to grope your tit with his large hand.

Your head tilted backwards and dropped on his shoulder as you marvelled in his ministrations. 

“Already stuffed but still not enough, huh? Baby hungry for my cock?” Mingi growled into your ear, his nose brushing along the shell of it. 

“Yes, yes!” You cried out, desperately wanting to move your hands to the back of your head so you could run your fingers through his locks. “Only your dick.”

Mingi grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them apart, pressing the tip of his cock against your back entrance. “Only my cock can make you feel full? That’s right baby, only I can please you and fulfil all your desires.”

You gasped out once he entered you, pushing past the rim and bottoming out. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby.” Mingi wrapped one arm around your lower body, keeping you in place as he fucked into you from behind. He used a different rhythm as the vine in the front, pushing you to your high a lot quicker like this.

“Do you know anything about the morsa labrusca?” He suddenly questioned you, your head already spinning from the pleasure alone. You shook your head, humming a weak no. Mingi chuckled darkly at that. “It’s also called the eating vine. They prey on unsuspecting beings, ensnaring them in their vines. After a while the vines will search for your windpipe, pushing inside until you suffocate.”

His hand moved from your tit up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and pressing down ever so slightly.

“You’re lucky those plants aren’t very quick-witted, trying every hole until they succeed.” Another chuckle left his lips, becoming even rougher with his thrusts. “Gotta be quick before she realises her mistake.”

Right as he finished his explanation, biting into your earlobe, another orgasm washed through your system and left you momentarily blinded. “Mingi”, you cried out, your whole body spasming in the air. 

“Now, have you learned your lesson, baby?”

You whimpered and shook your head, unable to really comprehend anything around you despite how full you felt.

“No?” Mingi scoffed, moving his hand from your hip to your clit again. Without hesitation he immediately started rubbing it in a pace that left you crying out. “I told you to never come into the greenhouse”, he growled, ignoring your cries of overstimulation, “you know what could have happened, if I hadn’t been here.”

Curses fell from your lips as another orgasm built up in your lower body. The knot tightened almost painfully. Your mouth opened again but your voice got stuck in your throat as Mingi pressed his fingers against the side of your neck. 

A sudden warmth enveloped you and through your blurry vision it seemed like flames licked around your body. You whined when the pressure of the plant around your body vanished and you dropped down against Mingi’s chest.

He quickly replaced the vine in your cunt with three of his fingers, continuing to fuck into you. With one last thrust from his hips, you came undone, squirting all over his hand and on the ground.

Mingi grunted lowly, shooting his load into your ass and helping you ride through your last orgasm. 

You slumped against his body, unable to stand on your own. You barely registered how he tugged himself away again and lifted you up princess style, carrying you out of the greenhouse. Your head rested against his collarbone and you nuzzled into his skin.

“You did great, baby”, Mingi whispered as he carried you back into the house. “Sorry to keep you waiting as well.”

“‘S alright”, you mumbled, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Mingi chuckled softly. “That you did, baby, that you did. You look absolutely stunning too. Can’t wait until you recovered so I can eat you out and take you in absolutely every position you can imagine.”

Your eyes shot open and you pressed your thighs together, feeling your insides already throbbing with lust again. “Fuck me”, you whispered under your breath, knowing full well you couldn’t get enough of him as well.

© all rights reserved

It’s dark. The kind of dark that isn’t just seen but felt. The kind of dark that seeps into your skin, wraps its cold fingers around your veins and travels through your veins. The kind of dark that makes a home of the deepest corners within you and steals the warmth from your soul. The kind of dark that hardens your heart and refuses to let go.

It’s dark and you don’t know if you can find the light again.

You’re the last to leave. Again. It doesn’t surprise anyone anymore. You’ve been leaving later and later with every passing week.

The sun had set long ago by the time you leave work and start the walk home. 

A walk that you shouldn’t really take. The way is dimly lit, the neighbourhood too old for modern security cameras to be commonplace.

It’s dark and not safe. You know this. You had been scared about this when you moved here all those months back. Back when you used to get lifts home from colleagues who worried for your safety too. Back before you lied about being okay to walk home alone.

Something changed. You don’t know what it is, but something in you isn’t the same as it was then. You don’t know if you miss it. 

It’s dark and you’re walking home the same route you take every night after work. Far too late into the night. 

A cool breeze flutters your hair, presses against your back urging you onwards. Closer to home. Closer to the darkness waiting for you. 

An empty house, no one to come home to. No one to wait up and scold you for being so late and reckless, yet relieved to see you home safe. No life within the walls until you return. No one. Just the dark.

It’s a calm night. Like the world has decided to take a break and let the nightcrawlers go about their business with nothing to disturb them. It’s nice. Soothing almost.

You take a deep breath, let the night air chill your lungs, send prickles over the back of your neck. 

You almost pause as you realise the shiver running its fingers up your spine isn’t from the lungful of cool air. But you don’t dare.

You know something is watching you. Something is always watching you as you pass the opening to the deep old woods near your home. The only companion you know on these nights. 

It used to scare you; cause your heart to race and your lungs to shudder in your chest, expand and deflate erratically and leave no room for anything else. But now. Now there’s something else in your chest, spreading and winding around every inch of you, filling all the gaps and limiting how your lungs expand, forcing them to behave. 

It used to scare you; it doesn’t any more.

Still, you don’t dare slow, you don’t dare look because you know with everything in you, you know that the moment you show weakness, show interest, whatever is lurking in the dark will be upon you and you will be helpless to stop it.

It’s dark and cold and…soft. The world is cold around you, burrowing under your skin and spilling ice into your heart, but there is softness underfoot. It’s a little damp and something small tickles over your bare skin, but it’s soft underfoot. 

It’s soft and it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

When you open your eyes on a new day, the curtains are pulled open allowing the morning sun to stream into your bedroom. You remember closing them last night before climbing into bed. You remember locking the window securely. 

There’s a gentle breeze against your face, birdsong reaching your ears. 

You’re not surprised to find the window open when you look over.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” One of your co-workers, a friendly young man who seems to light up any room he enters checks, even as others call for him to hurry. 

“I’m sure, I’m not much of a drinker,” you assure, smiling at him in a way that you hope is assuring. Really, you just want him to leave. You used to like him, when you first met you thought he was the kind of man you would love to have by your side in any capacity, but especially as a romantic partner. But now. Now his sunshine hurts your eyes and makes the fire burn cold at the back of your neck.

“Okay,” he agrees, though he looks disappointed and very bad at hiding it. You pretend not to notice and turn your focus back to your work, tilting your head down in a clear sign of dismissal. 

“Come on, Seokmin!” One of your colleagues yells.

“Alright!” He calls back yet hovers a moment longer before abruptly grabbing a pen from the pot and leaning over to take your left hand and scrawl numbers down on your skin. “If you change your mind, here’s my number, I’ll keep my phone on loud. Or if you want someone to walk you home, I’m happy to! It scares me thinking about you walking-” 

“There are post-it notes right there,” you comment, looking between his phone number written hastily against your skin and the little stack of bright yellow squares of paper. They’re impossible to miss. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” He quickly puts the pen down and backs up with an embarrassed, apologetic smile when you raise your eyes to look at him. “I just-” 

“Seokmin!” The loudest of the group almost screeches impatiently, making Seokmin jolt and look at them. “Flirt on company time, not mine!” 

“I’m not flirting!” Seokmin shrieks, whirling around to look at you with wide eyes of alarm. “I-I’m not flirting!” 

“You should go because they drag you,” you suggest, raising an amused eyebrow. 

Seokmin opens his mouth to respond yet just closes it again and nods rapidly before turning and rushing off, zipping his coat as he goes. 

You hear him whispering madly, sternly to his friends when he reaches them but you don’t care to discern the words. You’re already looking at the numbers on your hand and wondering if he purposely picked the permanent marker to stain your skin with.

It’s dark, and cold, and soft, and you’re not alone. The ground is still damp and soft under your bare feet, the gentle breeze cool against your skin and you can’t see. But there’s something against your left hand that feels almost tender. 

A touch. An icy finger tracing over your skin. Admiring.

Until it’s not. 

The gentle touch turns sharp, a piercing burn in a purposeful line across your skin. Warmth spills out, trickling over your skin, dripping off your fingers to the soft ground you stand on. 

Your breath catches as your lips press together firmly. You want to cry out, but there is something telling you not to open your mouth. You can’t let the dark spill onto your tongue and slip down your throat. 

There’s a sound, something you don’t understand. Something that rattles the very core of you, something indescribable even if you were to try. But it feels old, it feels powerful. And it’s talking to you.

You don’t know what it’s saying but it’s talking to you, voice vibrating in your bones for only a few seconds yet it feels like those few seconds have changed you irreversibly. 

Something wet touches your hand. The icy touch of slender fingers hold your palm, leading it closer to the soft wetness. It’s almost warm, but not quite. 

The cool wet traces over the warm trails that spilled your hand. 

A tongue. Whatever is with you is tracing its tongue over the trail of your spilled blood. 

There’s a sound, it sounds pleased. 

The tongue passes over the back of your hand. It burns.

You want to cry out.

You keep your mouth shut.

“What happened?” One of your colleagues asks, eyeing the bandage wrapped around your left hand as you take your mug from the coffee machine. 

“Just wasn’t paying attention,” you reply with a lighthearted little laugh and shrug. She accepts your words just like that and starts to prattle on about something as she puts her mug where yours was moments before and places a fresh pod into the machine. 

Your gaze slides to the white gauze hiding the raised line of a fresh wound on your hand, cutting straight through the stained ink you couldn’t scrub off before bed.

“Did you hear?” Another colleague walks in, his hands holding his oversized empty mug ready to refill, and his eyes are wide.

“Be more specific, Seungkwan, you catch so much gossip it’s impossible to know what you’re talking about at any given time,” the woman on your right scoffs, rolling her eyes but her lips are turned up a little in amusement. 

You glance at her and suddenly wonder why you don’t know her name. Have you ever known it? Surely. You must’ve. But you can’t for the life of you remember what it is. 

You look at Seungkwan as he moves closer and you realise that you had forgotten his name until the woman spoke it. You wonder what else you’ve forgotten lately; you get the feeling it’s a lot. Yet you find that you don’t care, not really. It’s all meaningless.

“You know how Seokmin didn’t turn up today, right?” Seungkwan whispers as he leans closer to yourself and the nameless woman. 

You didn’t ask to be included in this and you almost walk away, but he’s half blocking you in and you don’t really want to go back to your desk and stare at a screen that hurts your eyes even with the brightness turned down. So you remain and just watch the conversation happen as you sip your drink.

“Hungover, he went out with Mingyu and Soonyoung last night and you know how those three get,” the woman muses, plucking her mug from the machine and turning to lean back against the counter and leave space for Seungkwan to access the machine if he wants to. But he doesn’t and continues to clutch his empty mug with wide eyes.

“We all thought that too but he didn’t answer anyone’s texts or calls and you know he’s too nice to do that.” The woman hums in agreement. You don’t have any input yourself but nod a little when Seungkwan looks at you. 

It seems right for Seokmin’s character at least, to never intentionally avoid others like that. He always seems too…warm. 

Your nose turns up a little at the thought of that warmth. You used to like it. But now. Now even the thought feels suffocating.

“Exactly,” Seungkwan continues, entirely missing your unimpressed turn of expression. “So Mingyu went around there on lunch break to check on him and he’s not there.” 

“What?” 

“Seokmin isn’t there.” 

“Then where is he?” 

“Nobody knows. They’re trying to find out. It’s not like Seokmin to do this. They’re worried something happened to him.” 

It’s dark, and cold, and soft underfoot and you’re not alone. It’s dark and there’s a cold trail of a gentle touch over your cheek. 

There’s that sound, that noise you know means that whatever is with you is talking to you. You don’t understand, but you think you’re starting to.

It’s dark and you’re not alone anymore. You’re not sure you ever were. 

There’s a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, a hamper of unwashed clothes in the bathroom. None of it matters. It’s all meaningless.

You’re waiting. Though you’re not sure what for. 

But you think you’re starting to understand. Every morning you wake with a breeze on your skin and you think you understand more. 

You feel it in you. 

Whatever it is, it’s almost ready.

A gasp of your name makes you look up from the display of apples before you. You know the approaching man, he’s familiar. You work with him.

He gets closer, plastic disposable coffee cup in hand and he’s already talking away, gossiping. You lift your eyes from his cup and to his face. He always has a cup. You know that. But you don’t know his name. It doesn’t matter. 

“It’s so sad, isn’t it?” The man finishes, frowning at you as if he truly is upset by whatever he had just said to you. You blink at him, not sure what was said but willing to agree to be left in peace already. “About Seokmin?” 

You don’t know who Seokmin is. You think you should know, but you don’t. You don’t care either. 

“Were you listening?” He frowns further and reaches out towards you. You take a step back out of his reach before his palm can touch your forehead. “Are you okay? You look pale, you feel cold.” 

“I’m fine,” you assure. It’s the truth. You are fine. He’s the one emanating a disturbing amount of warmth. 

“You’ve been strange lately. Not yourself.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Right.” Genuine concern twists his mouth as he curls his hand back around his cup. “You should text Seokmin, let him know that you’re thinking about him, it’ll cheer him up.” 

“I have groceries to buy,” you point out. He opens his mouth to say something but you’re already turning and walking away with your basket in hand. 

Those apples didn’t seem fresh enough to you anyway.

There’s a man standing on the path as you walk home, a grocery bag swinging from your hand and guided by the gentle moonlight. He’s not moving, just standing, staring into the dark of the woods transfixed. 

You know better than that. 

As you near the man-shaped obstacle in the path you make an attempt to give him a wide berth but suddenly he turns to face you with wide eyes void of any light. You recognise him, even without his normal warmth. 

“Come for a walk with me,” he speaks to you in a voice layered with sounds you can’t describe. Though there is his natural voice and another one there, one you don’t know by ear but you know it. Whatever is in your chest knows it. 

You almost falter in your steps but remain steady. You ignore him and walk around his form to continue on your walk.

“You can’t avoid it forever. He’s waiting for you,” he calls after you.

“Go home, Seokmin!” you reply yet don’t look back. 

You don’t see him take a step off of the path. You don’t see him slink off into the woods, drawn by something that has its cold fingers too deep in his chest for him to ever be free of again.

It’s dark, until it isn’t. No light comes yet shapes start to form in front of your eyes. Pale thin fingers reaching for you, tipped with short pointed nails. The sharpness of which you have proof of under the bandage on your hand.

A gentle caress on your cheek.

A blink of your eyes and a face appears. Or perhaps it was always there. You just didn’t see it before. 

It looks human, yet doesn’t. Too beautiful, too ghastly. A contradiction you are unable to remove your gaze from. You don’t want to remove your gaze from.

Dark wisps of hair fall over an even darker eye as its head tilts a little. To the left then to the right. 

Pretty lips stained red stretch wide, too wide. Sharp teeth put on display. Too many teeth. But so pretty. Dangerous. And beautiful. 

It’s smiling, eyes swirling with twisted pleasure as it stares at you, a cold, gentle thumb rubbing a tender pattern against your cheek. The smile grows as you tilt ever so slightly into the touch.

Teeth rescind before your eyes. They remain sharp yet fewer appear and are smaller than before. Leaving space for sounds to slip through. You catch sight of a pale tongue moving within its mouth as it forms sounds. Words. 

But you don’t understand. You don’t know the ancient language it speaks. 

Yet.

A soft touch to your bottom lip and your mouth falls open at the request of this horrifyingly beautiful creature before you. 

It smiles widely, pleased by your willing obedience as darkness spills onto your tongue and slips down your throat.

It’s dark when you open your eyes, no light streaming in from your window. The breeze is still on your face where you lay. 

It’s soft under your back, soft and cold and damp. 

“Welcome to your new life, little one.” You’ve never heard the voice before, not on its own, only blended with the man on the path. It’s velvet smooth yet crackles at the edge with a cold fire. Comfort and danger in one. You know the owner even without looking over. 

Still, you look.

Beauty and horror rolled into one haunting creature resembling a human male, yet far from it. 

He’s sitting on the damp forest ground a little to your right, smiling at you with those sharp teeth on show, his dark, dangerous eyes which hold no light or warmth locked on you. And yet you feel…adored. 

“What’s your name?” You ask, voice soft and calm, at peace here laid on the bed of moss beside the being that could tear you apart and swallow you whole if he so desired. You think he once wanted to. But now. Now you think he still might. But only to carry you with him always. 

You think you would let him, if he asked. 

“My name?” He repeats, leaning forward. You nod and then suddenly he’s slinking over the ground, crawling in a manner that should not be possible, his bones should not move in such a way if he were human. 

But he’s not. 

“Names hold power here, little one, do you think I would give a mere human power over me?” He taunts, placing each of his bony hands either side of your head as he leans over you, head tilting too far to the right for a human neck. 

“I don’t feel human anymore.” You reply and lift your hand to feather your fingers over his cheek. Perfectly smooth and cold, yet still soft. 

“I suppose you are not.” He chuckles and dips down to brush the tip of his nose over your neck, to breathe the scent of you in.

“What am I now?” 

“Mine.” Sharp teeth pierce your delicate skin, not deeply, just enough to draw blood that a cold, wet tongue laps up greedily. 

“Then tell me your name. If I’m yours, I will never want to do you harm.” 

He leans up. Peers at you as he licks blood stained teeth and swallows every drop. 

“You are mine.” He repeats.

“I am yours.”

“Prove it, let me have you.” 

“I am yours.” You repeat firmly, tugging him down to taste your blood on his tongue.

It’s dark, and cold, and soft under your bare back, and you are not alone. 

“My name is Jeonghan.” 

It’s dark and you don’t want to find the light again.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖