Content : slight slow burn ,angst, smut (FILTHY), possessive TS,
18+ content : spitting, marking, p in v, oral (both receiving), squirting, HARD DOM TS, kissing, degrading + praise, name calling.
READ WARNINGS UNDER PLOT!!!
~ ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ 🎀 ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ ~
Plot : A VIP team leader at one of the city’s busiest clubs ‘SERENADE’ is assigned a new client—routine, nothing she hasn’t handled a hundred times. But the moment she meets him, she feels her professionalism start to slip. There’s something about the way he watches her, quiet and intent, like he’s fighting the same battle she is. The kind of look that makes her wonder if she’s imagining it, or if he’s just better at hiding the pull between them.
Now she’s juggling rowdy customers, club politics, and the chaos of the night… all while trying not to crack under the weight of a tension neither of them is acknowledging out loud. Because if she’s right about what’s simmering beneath the surface, then this new client isn’t just dangerous for business—he’s dangerous for her self-control.
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WARNING - This is a slight slow burn in terms of how long it takes to get to the absolute FILTH but i promise it’s needed for character dynamics and context. smoking (🚬 & 🍃) , alcohol consumption, assault (SHORT), Vaping is also mentioned frequently
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9:20pm Saturday 24/10/2025
“I know, I know — I’m on my way in now!” was all you heard from Jiyeon before she hung up on you. Still slightly annoyed at your friend’s lack of time management, you checked makeup before stepping out of your car to rearrange your short black dress and making the short walk to the club.
You greeted security as you passed the already-forming line outside the venue. “Hey, Sungho,” you said with a warm smile to the head of security—one of your closest co-workers aside from your best friend, Jiyeon and those under your lead.
“Hey, Y/N,” he replied, clearly happy to see you. “Where’s the other one?”
Sungho raised a brow, noticing Jiyeon’s absence.
“Oh, you know Jiyeon. She probably overslept and forgot we had multiple tables tonight,” you chuckled, observing the line as you mentally prepared yourself for another chaotic night at Serenade.
“Hah, yeah, I wouldn’t put it past her. Oh—by the way!” He jerked his head toward the entrance before continuing. “Mark wants to see you.”
Confused, you asked, “Is it bad?”
He almost laughed at your worry, easing the pit forming in your stomach. “Didn’t seem like it. I think it has something to do with your VIP tables.”
Still unsure but with no choice, you thanked him before heading into the club.
It’s almost a stark contrast—going from an empty club to one filled at full capacity. After a quick glance around the vacant venue, you head behind the bar and slip through the staff-only door into the back hallway. As you climb the stairs to the top floor, you immediately regret your decision to wear heels instead of your tried-and-true knee-high boots.
You knock on the manager’s office door before entering, finding Mark behind his desk double-checking bookings and stock orders.
“Hey, you wanted to see me?” You stop in front of your boss’s desk as he looks up from his laptop and takes in your presence.
“Yeah, I just wanted to give you your VIP folder.”
Even more confused, you tilt your head. “I already have my folder. I got it on Wednesday?”
As if a lightbulb switches on in his mind, he nods. “I know. Sorry—I forgot to text you yesterday about a cancellation. You still have four tables tonight, but with one of your team members on leave, we moved one of your regulars into a different section. So you have three regulars and one new client.”
Breathing a sigh of relief that it’s only one new client, you take the folder from his outstretched hand.
“How many am I leading tonight?” you ask, already mentally rearranging sections and aware you’re down a team member.
“You have Jiyeon, Jaehyun, and Kayla volunteered one of her new team members to fill the empty spot temporarily.”
Okay—manageable. Within ratio- You can work with that.
“Is there anything I need to know about the new client?” you ask, curiously eyeing the closed folder in your hand.
“Not too much from what I checked, but if any problems come up, just alert me on comms. I’m up here all night prepping for the Halloween event next week.”
Nodding in understanding, you turn on your heel and head over to the box of earpieces, radios, and lanyards, grabbing yours as well as your team members’. As if he’d forgotten to mention something earlier, Mark quickly speaks up just as you reach the door.
“Oh—also, since this is a new client, could you please personally do this table?” he almost begged.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll put the other three on our regulars. Easy peasy!” You shoot him a quick smile before heading out the door, back down the stairs, and into the staff room you passed on the way up.
Entering the room, you find Jaehyun putting his bag away.
“Hi hi, Jae,” you say excitedly as you walk over to him.
“Hi, Y/nie. Did you just get in?” he asks, turning fully to face you.
“Yeah, I just came down from the office.” You smile and shake the still-unopened folder in your hand. His eyes immediately latch onto it, confusion coloring his expression as he looks back up at you.
You almost laugh at the way he says it, like you’ve just handed him terrible news. “Yeah. I haven’t gone through the preference list yet, but let’s head to our tables and do a briefing before prepping.” You quickly put your things away, hang up your jacket, and follow him out of the staff room and into the still–vacant venue.
You sit inside VIP Booth 4 and spot Jiyeon nearly eating shit as she practically throws herself through the entrance and into the staff door.
Laughing at her desperation, you check the time on your phone. 9:45 PM.
“She really doesn’t change, does she?” Jaehyun says through breathless laughter.
“She’s a creature of habit—our Jiyeon,” you muse, still laughing before composing yourself as a new face approaches.
“Hi, Y/N. My name is Celaena. I’m under Kayla’s management, but I’m very happy to be helping out your team for the meantime,” she says with a full eye smile.
You warmly return it. “Hi, Celaena. It’s very nice to meet you, and I’m excited to welcome you into our team!” Taking in the girls long lavender hair and fit frame.
Someone clears their throat beside you, and you already know exactly what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you look to your right—of course, Myung Jaehyun is already oozing smiles and confidence.
“Hi, Celaena, I’m Jaehyun. Nice to meet you. May I ask how long you’ve been working at Serenade for? I’m sure I’d remember seeing such a pretty face.”
Your eyes almost fall out of their sockets as you gawk at your friend’s blatant confidence. Looking back at a flushed Celaena, you watch her clear her throat before answering.
“Thank you so much, but um—tonight is actually my first bottle service shift. I was a promoter for a couple months before Kayla asked if I wanted to do bottle service.” Almost nervously, she looks down and fidgets with her hands.
“Oh, I see. Well, no worries—we can help you learn the ropes. And of course, never be afraid to ask questions. We were all once where you are now. No need to be nervous!” Jaehyun reassures her, and you nod in agreement before inviting her to sit down for the briefing.
Right on cue, Jiyeon bursts back through the staff door, hopping on one foot as she straps on her heels.
“Hi—oh my god, I’m here!! Sorry! I had to grab my dry cleaning and my uber got lost!”
You laugh at your best friend as she stumbles her way into the booth, greeting Celaena as she plops down beside her.
Going through the regular vip folders and client info briefly before switching into your team leader mode, you relay the earlier information about the new client and the three regulars.
“Jiyeon, I want you to take Minhyuk’s group in Booth 2.”
She smiles as you pass the folder across the booth to her. Already familiar with Minhyuk, she doesn’t bother checking preferences, only skimming his guest list before returning her attention to the group.
“Jaehyun, I want you to take Fuma’s group today in Booth 4, and I’ll put Celaena with Lia in 3. I’m gonna need both you and Jiyeon to help out Celaena throughout the night.”
Both of your friends nod and start going through their folders as you hand Celaena her Client folder so she can get familiar with the lists and preferences.
Jiyeon and Jaehyun head to the office to collect wristbands for their clients’ guest lists while you start explaining the folder to your new team member.
“The first two pages are client info—from their usual bottle purchases and preferred presentation times to their arrival times. The third page is their guest list. Keep this page with you when you go collect guests from the VIP line so you can verify names. If anyone requests one of our team members by name, tell Sungho in security to pass it through comms. It saves you from running in and out.”
You walk her through how to collect bottles from the bar, how the earpiece works, and how to use the radio before she studies her folder a little longer.
Jiyeon and Jaehyun return with their client wristbands before starting to set up.
“Who’s the new client?” Jiyeon asks, jutting her chin toward your folder.
You suddenly realize you haven’t even opened it yet. Flipping it open, you read the info.
“Han Taesan,” you say over your shoulder while taking in his profile.
He sounds legit so without much thought you continue reading. As expected, the file is mostly empty aside from the basic info he filled out when booking the table. You sigh, already knowing this is going to be a long night of asking questions and filling in the blanks of the otherwise bare preference list.
You flip to the guest list and count how many wristbands you’ll need. Then you take Celaena with you up to the office to collect them and get ready for open.
By 10 PM, all of the tables are set up and ready for clients. The club opens at 10:15, so with the extra time your team has, you all head outside to the smoking area with Sungho in tow. Pulling out your vape, you stare up at the stars and inhale peach-ice–flavoured stress relief.
“You know, I’ve heard about Taesan on campus,” Jaehyun says as you exhale, looking toward him curiously.
“Yeah, the girls always talk about him in class. Apparently he’s hot,” Jiyeon adds, practically smirking at you before Sungho chimes in.
“Y/N can bag him for sureeeeeee.”
He tries not to laugh, taking in your blank stare.
“Guys, come on. He’s a client. No relationships with customers is like… a given. No?” you say, with very little confidence, staring at your friends leaning against the wall.
“Fun is fun. You never know, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, nudging Jiyeon and puffing his vape.
You take in his statement quietly, zoning out as you watch the line for the club grow and wrap around the corner.
“Whose house are we doing it at tonight?” Sungho asks, looking around the group.
You almost laugh in his face—because of course it’s going to be your house. You have the supply and the space, as usual.
“Do what?” Celaena asks, surveying the group.
You glance at everyone’s reactions before answering.
“After close, we go back to my place and smoke. Then Jaehyun usually orders a lot of food for us, and we hang out till we fall asleep or everyone goes home. Wanna come??”
She hesitates, then asks, “But… aren’t you guys smoking now?”
Confusion paints her face.
Jaehyun jumps in before you can respond.
“We smoke weed at Y/N’s place! It’s a huge stress relief after dealing with nagging customers and pushy people.”
Celaena finally understands. “Ahh, I see. Thank you for the invite, but I miss my cats too much. Maybe next time!!”
You smile at her and extend the offer for any time she needs some relief. Then you check the time and start heading back inside.
“Who isn’t drinking tonight?” you ask your friends as you all walk toward the club.
“I’m not,” Jaehyun replies. “Want me to drive?”
It’s like he predicted your question, and you smile, nodding.
“Okayyyyy, Myung Uber is back in business.”
Your friends visibly pale before a chorus of:
You laugh as Jaehyun snickers at their lack of faith in his driving ability.
“Twice, actually, Jae… but let’s hope there isn’t a third,” you say, patting him as you walk past and head into the entrance. Everyone breaks off to their respective VIP tables.
I was making my rounds through the club, chatting with customers, when “VIP 1 has arrived” crackled through my earpiece. Excusing myself from a conversation about which other patrons they thought were hot, I swung by the host table to grab the guest list and headed for the entrance.
Cold air slapped me in the face as I breached the exit of the club, immediately scanning the street for Sungho. After hunting down the broad-shouldered blonde, I asked him where my clients were. He pointed behind me.
I turned—ready to switch into my usual professional smile—and froze for half a second.
They weren’t just standing there.
And not with the bored, impatient look most VIPs carried. No—this was different. Their eyes trailed over me slowly, deliberately, as though they were taking inventory of every detail before 3 of them went back to conversing with eachother. The red haired one in front of the group didn’t return to the conversation however, Heat crept up the back of my neck despite the cold.
I straightened the guestlist sheet in my hands, trying to ignore the way my pulse jumped. Approaching them“Good evening,” I said, but my voice came out a shade lower than intended. His attention didn’t waver—if anything, it sharpened.
The red haired one took a step slightly closer, enough that I caught the faint scent of something warm and expensive, something that didn’t belong in the cold night
“Han Taesan?” you ask as you reach the group, plastering on your most harmless, I-definitely-don’t-bite expression so you don’t spook potential new clients. At the sound of your voice, all four of them turn toward you—then almost in unison, their eyes shift to the redhead who still hasn’t stopped staring you down.
Ofcourse he had to be hot one you think as you face the redhead.
“Yeah?” Taesan replies, sounding almost confused that you’re addressing him directly. His brows lift slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to look him in the eye, let alone say his name.
Unphased, you continue. “Is this everyone? I had six on the list.”
Your gaze skims over the group again—four bodies, not six.
“Yeah, we had two cancel last minute,” Taesan says, finally processing that you aren’t just some random girl wandering up to flirt with him and his friends.
“Okay, no problem. Did you want me to leave the two slots empty in case you find people to enter later?” you ask.
He glances back at his friends; they all shake their heads. The movement is quick, silent, practiced. A collective no.
“Just us,” he says, turning his attention back to you fully this time.
It’s subtle—barely there—but you feel it.
The kind of shift where a man goes from not paying attention to paying attention specifically to you.
His eyes hold yours a heartbeat too long.
You feel every inch of the space between you, hyper-charged and humming with the low thump of the club’s bass. You keep your expression neutral, professional, but the air has thickened just enough to make you swallow once before speaking.
“Alright then,” you say, voice steady even though his gaze tracks the movement of your lips before flicking back to your eyes. “Follow me, and I’ll get you all set up.”
When you turn, you can feel it—Taesan’s attention lingering on the line of your back, the sway of your walk. Not in an obvious, disrespectful way. No, he’s more controlled than that.
But controlled doesn’t mean harmless.
You lead them toward the entrance checks, acutely aware of the warmth of their presence behind you… and the single pair of eyes that seems just a little more focused than the rest
.“Alright. I just need to see your IDs.” You say with wavering confidence
As they start pulling their IDs out you lead them over to Sungho for the check, your hand brushing against warm forearms as you fit each wristband snugly into place. They watch you as you work—quiet, curious, and far too attentive for a group that usually comes in half-drunk and loud.
Once cleared, you guide them inside. The club heat hits immediately, thick with perfume and humidity. You direct them toward the cloakroom, your palm at the small of one back to keep the group together, pretending not to notice the way someone inhales softly at the contact.
Then you weave them through the pulsing sea of bodies. Bass thumps through the floorboards, through your shoes, through your ribs—until you finally reach the velvet-roped booth reserved just for them. They slide in, settling with the sort of lazy confidence that only comes with money and attention.
Unable to talk over the pounding music, you step into the booth, squeezing yourself between the edge of the seat and Taesan. His thigh brushes yours, warm and impossibly solid. You tap his shoulder, trying to keep it professional.
He doesn’t hear you at first. You try again.
Then he finally turns—leaning in without hesitation, closing the gap so quickly your breath catches. He’s practically breathing down your neck, his presence tall, imposing, and far too aware of the effect he’s having.
Just one syllable—yet it slides down your spine like warm honey, dangerous and slow. You swear your pulse stutters. You force your expression back into neutral professionalism even as every nerve lights up.
“Which bottles did you want, and when?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected.
Taesan doesn’t retreat. If anything, he leans closer, his voice brushing your ear.
“Start with two bottles of Alizé Bleu… and anytime soon, preferably.”
The way he says preferably shouldn’t feel like a hand at the back of your neck—but it does.
You rise from the booth a little too quickly, putting much-needed distance between you and him. The moment the cool air of the bar hits your face, you exhale—quiet, steadying yourself—as you step up to collect their bottles.
You spot Jaehyun at the bar and ask him to help you bring the bottles and juices over to your clients. He can tell you’re a bit out of sorts, so he agrees without question.
When the two of you reach the table again, you set the bottles down and start arranging the juices, ready to pour—until a voice stops you.
“Donghyun?” Jaehyun says from your side.
Confused, you glance at him, then follow his gaze just in time to see who he’s addressing.
“Jaehyun?” says the brown-haired guy sitting next to Taesan. The moment they register each other, both of them light up in recognition. The brown-haired guy immediately gets to his feet and greets Jaehyun enthusiastically.
You stare, thoroughly thrown off.
Your mind flicks back to what Jaehyun said earlier—about hearing Taesan’s name around campus.
Another wave of confusion hits you, and you turn to the brown-haired guy.
“Did I miss your name on the list? I don’t remember seeing a Donghyun.”
He picks up on your confusion right away.
“Oh—no, I was on there under Leehan. My friends call me Donghyun.”
Realisation clicks into place, and the knot in your brows eases.
“Ohhh, that makes more sense now.”
But now that the confusion settles, something else creeps in—a prickling heat along your spine.
Taesan is watching you again.
His eyes track your face as if he’d been waiting for you to look back. The chaos of Jaehyun and Donghyun catching up fades into background noise, the music pulsing somewhere far behind it. All you can register is that steady, unblinking attention.
The kind that feels like a hand at the small of your back.
The kind that feels… focused.
Before you can even process the weight of Taesan’s attention, Jaehyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward him and Leehan.
“This is Y/N,” he announces proudly. “She’s my team leader—and you’re some lucky-ass people to have her as your bottle girl tonight.”
He beams at you, praise dripping from every word. You return the smile automatically, warmth rising in your cheeks—but not because of Jaehyun’s arm or the compliment.
It hits you a second later:
You completely forgot to introduce yourself earlier.
Too much energy spent on managing the group…
And far too much of your attention pinned to one particular redhead who keeps giving it back.
As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you feel Taesan’s gaze flicker over you again—brief, sharp, assessing—like he noticed exactly where your attention had gone
You turn to see him watching the crowd—shoulders relaxed, expression unreadable. For a moment, you think maybe you imagined the way he’d been staring at you earlier.
But just as you start to turn back toward Jaehyun, you catch it.
The corner of Taesan’s mouth—
a subtle lift, barely there,
but unmistakably a smirk.
More like he knows exactly why you forgot to introduce yourself…
and exactly who had your attention instead.
Heat pricks across your skin before you can stop it.
He doesn’t look your way again, not directly—
but the smirk stays, a quiet, private curve meant for you to notice.
You tune back into the conversation with Jaehyun and Leehan just in time to hear Jaehyun inviting him to smoke with you guys after close.
Leehan pauses, then glances at you—checking, almost politely, if it’s alright for him to tag along.
There’s no reason to object. He seems genuinely nice, and if he and Jaehyun are already friends, then an extra person shouldn’t be a problem. You give him a small nod of approval, and his face brightens instantly.
Even as you respond, a part of your awareness stays pulled toward the booth—toward the redhead who hasn’t said a word but somehow manages to occupy the entire edge of your attention anyway.
What is going on? You think to yourself.
Jaehyun wraps up his conversation and notices his own table scanning the room for him. After a quick, “See you soon,” he heads back across the floor, slipping into the crowd.
You refocus on your group, pushing the distraction of moving bodies and loud music aside. With practiced ease, you reach for the bottles and start pouring out Alizé lemonades for the four guys, lining each glass in front of them
The moment the drinks begin to fill, the table seems to settle—conversation softening, attention shifting toward you.
And without even looking up, you can feel it again.
That warm, steady awareness coming from one specific direction.
Suddenly, you become acutely aware of how low-cut and short your dress is. The realization hits like a warm flush, and you straighten instinctively, smoothing your posture as if that alone could disguise the sudden self-consciousness prickling across your skin.
“Do you guys need anything else for now?” you ask, voice steady despite the faint heat creeping up your neck.
A chorus of “No, that’s perfect, thank you,” rises from the group.
You give them a polite smile and excuse yourself.
The moment you turn, you make a beeline for the female washrooms—heels clicking, heartbeat quickening—needing a second away from the table, away from the redhead whose silent attention somehow feels like it’s tracing every inch of your exposed skin.
You run into Jiyeon in the washroom, and—unsurprisingly—she’s already buzzing about the new clients. The second she sees you, she drags you toward the mirror like she’s been waiting to pounce.
“You cannot tell me you wouldn’t climb that tree of a man,” she says, dead serious as she checks her makeup.
You freeze, because the image she just planted in your head is… well.
You press your lips together, debating whether you should even let your mind go there. The last thing you need is to indulge the exact thought you’ve been trying to shake off—especially when the “tree” in question keeps looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking.
You clamp your mouth shut, refusing to let Jiyeon’s question bloom fully into a fantasy, but the damage is already done. The image rises anyway—uninvited, impossible to ignore.
Tall enough to block out half the room when he stands.
Broad shoulders straining the fabric of his black shirt, jacket sleeves rolled just high enough to reveal veins running along his forearms.
Hair a shock of red under the club lights, messy in a way that looks intentional, expensive, touchable.
And those eyes—sharp, hooded, constantly tracking the room like he’s bored by most of it…
except when they land on you.
You inhale slowly, fighting the warmth creeping down your spine.
Because when he looks at you, it’s not casual.
It’s not even flirtatious.
It’s focused—like he’s studying the shape of you, trying to decide what he wants to do with the knowledge.
Like he’s already imagined the answer.
Like he knows you have too.
You grip the edge of the sink, grounding yourself as Jiyeon continues fussing with her lip gloss, blissfully unaware of the storm she’s stirred up in your head.
You tell yourself to breathe.
To not think about the way Taesan’s smirk curves like he’s already read every thought you aren’t supposed to be having.
he makes it so, so difficult.
You check the time on your way back to the group
Just under three hours before close.
Three hours before you can get home, decompress, and finally shake Taesan out of your head.
You reach the table to find only Leehan and Taesan seated, talking quietly between themselves. The other two—Lee Riwoo and Kim Woonhak, if you remember correctly—are nowhere in sight. Probably dancing or at the bar.
You don’t think much of it and pour both men another round before turning your attention to the crowd. Bodies sway under the lights; a couple is making out a little too aggressively near the speakers, and you quickly avert your eyes—only to catch sight of Sungho entering the venue, surveying the room with that usual no-nonsense look.
“Hey, Y/N—are you allowed to drink with us?” Leehan calls over to you.
You turn back to the table. Both he and Taesan are looking at you now—Taesan with that same glint of curiosity mirroring Leehan’s, but deeper… heavier… like he’s wondering not if you’ll drink, but how you’ll look doing it.
“Of course I can,” you say. “I just don’t get absolutely sloshed. Learned that lesson already.”
You think back to the night Jiyeon got so drunk with clients that Sungho had to physically carry her out. Never again.
Leehan grins and pats the seat next to him.
Thankfully, it’s not the one beside Taesan, so you sit and pour their drinks—then your own. They wait politely for you to take your first sip.
You down the drink quickly, feeling a welcome warmth spread through your chest. Confidence melts back into your skin, smoothing every tense edge.
“Can we vape inside?” Leehan asks, leaning in so you can hear him over the bass.
You consider it for a moment—just a moment—before remembering the no-smoking rule.
“I’m about to head out to the smoking area anyway,” you tell him, tilting your head toward the entrance. “If you wanted to join.”
You leave the invitation open.
For the redhead next to him, too.
Leehan immediately agrees and stands, brushing off his jeans.
But before you move, you feel it.
You glance up just in time to see Taesan rising from his seat—slowly, deliberately—as though he’d been waiting for the excuse. He doesn’t say a word. He just steps out from the booth and falls in behind the two of you.
You push through the crowd and make it back outside past the entrance and step into the smoking area, the cool night air a relief against your warm skin. Leehan pulls out his vape and crouches beside you, already exhaling a sweet cloud into the air.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket with one hand, lighter flicking open with practiced ease. The flame briefly illuminates his face—sharp jawline, the curve of his mouth catching in the light. He inhales, slow and steady, the ember glowing at the end of the cigarette.
He looks unfairly good doing it.
As if smoking was designed specifically for him.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me coming over later?” Leehan asks, checking one more time to make sure you hadn’t answered out of politeness.
“Of course I’m sure!” you say, laughing softly. “My place has way more space than the five of us need—and you’re also Jaehyun’s friend. Honestly, we didn’t think he even had friends outside of us.”
You giggle through the last part, smiling at Leehan. He returns it easily, warm and open, before turning back to his vape.
You shift slightly—and immediately regret it.
Your dress is even shorter than you remembered, riding up your thighs as you crouch.
Before you can adjust it, something warm and heavy settles across your knees.
And when you look up to see who placed it.
He had placed it over you without hesitation.
Just an instinctive movement, like he’d been watching and decided he didn’t like the idea of you sitting out here cold or exposed.
You almost flinch at the unexpected gesture, the intimacy of it.
“Thank you,” you murmur, adjusting so the jacket covers your legs more fully.
You ease into the silence.
Leehan chats casually between puffs beside you.
He doesn’t even pretend to be absorbed in his cigarette.
He stands there—lean, imposing, cigarette between his fingers—
Focused in a way that makes the air between you feel warmer than the jacket on your legs.
Like he’s studying the way you talk to his friend.
The way the jacket sits over your thighs-
You and Leehan were deep in a stupidly funny conversation about being stoned—specifically, the weird habits you both apparently share when you’re high. The moment he mentioned that he and Taesan smoke together often, you couldn’t help but picture the two men acting exactly like you and your friends: giggly, snack-obsessed, and absolutely useless.
“I swear, the moment the munchies hit, Doordash becomes a religion,” you laughed.
“Yummiest food available only,” Leehan agreed with a solemn nod, which made you both crack up again.
Your joint laughter was cut short by the sharp click of heels approaching.
“Hi, baby,” a blonde girl cooed as she made a straight line for Taesan.
You and Leehan exchanged a look. He rolled his eyes so hard you’re surprised they didn’t fall out. “Here we go again,” he muttered—just loud enough for her to hear.
The girl’s face twitched in irritation as she threw Leehan a side-eye, but she didn’t stop. She leaned up and placed a kiss on Taesan’s cheek—though it barely lasted a second before he shoved her back gently but firmly.
“What the hell are you doing, Kamy?” he exhaled, his voice thin with contained anger.
Kamy blinked innocently, lashes fluttering like she thought that alone could hypnotize him. “What do you mean, babe?”
So he just… stares at other women while in a relationship?
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, calm but burning. “We broke up six months ago because you cheated.”
Your earlier judgment evaporated instantly.
“But I miss you,” she whined, voice syrupy. “It meant nothing.”
“Oh, I’m sure it did,” he said. “Just like the four others you cheated on me with. And you funded every one of your little adventures with my wallet.”
Leehan let out a low, incredulous scoff beside you. He looked just as fed up as Taesan.
Kamy’s mask cracked; desperation slipped in. “I always made it up to you, didn’t I?” she pleaded, trying to sound seductive.
Taesan shut his eyes for one long, controlled second—and when he opened them, the softness was gone.
“Enough, Kamy Leave and stop contacting me.”
He stepped past her without another glance, moving toward you and Leehan like he needed distance immediately.
“Y/N. Donghyun. Let’s go,” Taesan said, voice clipped as he positioned himself behind you as you carry his jacket draped over your arms, Leehan fell into step at your side, and you moved as a unit toward the club.
You could hear her heels behind you—too close, too insistent—but you honestly didn’t care.
“Wow. Such an upgrade, Taesan,” Kamy spat. “Cheap hookers now, is it?”
You stopped so abruptly Leehan nearly bumped into you.
Before the insult even finished leaving her mouth, you’d already spun around. Your palm connected with her cheek in a sharp, perfect crack that echoed across the parking lot. The impact was so clean and satisfying it almost startled you.
“Watch your mouth,” you said, voice calm in a way that was far more threatening than shouting. “You don’t know the first thing about me. And from what I see? The only cheap hooker here is you.”
Leehan let out a low “atta girl” under his breath, but you didn’t look away from Kamy.
You turned to leave—done, finished, uninterested in dragging this out.
She shrieked and lunged for you, hand raised, aiming for the back of your head—
—and she might’ve made contact if a hand far stronger than yours hadn’t caught her wrist mid-swing.
He yanked her back so hard her heels scraped across the ground, forcing her off balance.
“Touch her, Kamy,” he said, voice deadly quiet, “and I swear to God I will send every one of your little… deviations to your father. Then he’ll know the real reason we broke up—not the sob story you fed him.”
Kamy froze. Completely. Like the words alone had slammed her spine into ice.
Taesan released her wrist with disgust, turning away from her as if she were nothing more than noise in the background.
When his eyes met yours, something softened—just barely.
You gave him a small nod. A silent thanks, without making a big deal out of it.
Then you turned on your heel and headed back toward the club with renewed purpose. Leehan flanked your side immediately, like it was instinct. Taesan fell into place behind you again—closer this time, like he wasn’t willing to risk any more surprises.
For a moment, walking between them, their presence forming a protective barrier around you, you felt something strange ripple through you.
It felt strangely comfortable being this close to people you had just met tonight. But you had no problem keeping them as friends instead of just new clients.
After the earlier clusterfuck, the three of you returned to the table to find that Riwoo and Woonhak had also come back—with company. Four pretty girls you’d chatted with earlier were now squeezed around the table, laughing with them. Of course they’d befriend the most attractive customers, you think to yourself, chuckling.
The night rolls on with easy banter and surprisingly comfortable conversation. You start piecing together their personalities: Woonhak is loud but undeniably funny; Riwoo has this observant charm, always present even when he’s quiet; Leehan reminds you of your closest friends—unserious, warm, instantly comforting. And Taesan… well, he doesn’t talk much in the group. He just watches, listening, occasionally laughing or rolling his eyes at his friends’ stupid debates. You admire that about him more than you want to admit.
By 1:36 AM, half a bottle remains. You make your way to the empty seat beside Taesan, planning to ask if he wants to order a few more. The moment you sit, he turns toward you.
“Hey. I’m sorry for earlier.”
You blink, slightly taken aback that he’s the one apologising. You shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. If anything, I should be apologising for hitting her.”
He scoffs. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less about Kamy or her wellbeing. She had her chance and chose to lie to me for a long time.” His eyes hold yours, steady and sincere. “I’m genuinely sorry she said that about you, and that you got caught up in it.”
Your chest softens at the sincerity, and you smile to lighten the mood. “What’s a fun night out without a little drama, right?”
It pulls a quiet chuckle out of Taesan—warm, real, and just for you.
“Sorry, I cut you off—what were you saying?” he asks, realising he’d interrupted you earlier.
“Oh, right. Um—there’s half a bottle left. Did you want to order another one?” You jerk your chin toward the half-empty Alizé bottle sitting in its casing. His eyes follow your gesture, and after a quick scan of his slightly–tipsy friends, he decides, “I’ll just get shots if they want to drink more.”
You nod. “Perfect.” With that, you turn back toward the crowd and rise from the seat.
Jiyeon and Jaehyun head over shortly after, both looking exhausted.
“Like—is he serious?” Jiyeon huffs, staring back at her table full of drunk college upperclassmen.
“You’re lucky you just got drunk clients,” Jaehyun groans. “Fuma’s group has had girls making out with them all night.” He grimaces, refusing to look back at his own table.
You laugh at their misery. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”
You immediately regret it—the way both of them stare at you like you just said something insane.
“Hehe—sorry.” You throw your hands up in surrender.
“Anyway, I want shots. Let’s go,” Jiyeon declares, grabbing both your hands and dragging you toward the bar.
Two tequila shots with lime are passed over the counter to you and Jiyeon. You clink once and down them without hesitation.
Jaehyun watches the two of you with dramatic concern. “Oh, you two are gonna wake up with the worst post-high headaches tomorrow.”
Laughing at Jaehyun’s concern, you set the shot glass back on the counter and turn—only to slam straight into a wall.
Or… at least a breathing wall.
“Oh my god, I’m so—” You look up.
Of course. Why wouldn’t it be him?
Taesan looks down at you with that quiet amusement he gets when the universe hands him something entertaining. “It’s okay,” he says, voice low, while Leehan and Riwoo stand flanking him like his chaotic backup dancers.
“Wanna do shots with us, Y/N?” Leehan asks, already tossing an arm over Jaehyun’s shoulders and dragging him into the group like an unwilling hostage.
“Sure, sure,” you grin, then glance at the utterly bewildered Jaehyun. “What? You said you’d drive.”
He gives you the most dramatic eye-roll you’ve ever seen, and you laugh before turning back to the bar to order another round of tequila shots for the group.
After downing the shots, the group scatters in different directions, leaving just you and Taesan lingering at the bar. You feel a slight buzz humming under your skin, but you’re otherwise perfectly fine.
“Boyfriend?” Taesan asks suddenly.
You blink at him, confused. “Who? Me?”
He tilts his head toward the direction Leehan and Jaehyun disappeared.
“Jaehyun???” You almost choke on your own breath. “Oh, hell no. That kid is too much for me.” You grimace, then shake your head quickly. “Don’t get me wrong—I love the guy. But like… a sibling. Not a love interest.”
You say it with absolute clarity, and Taesan nods as if the answer is exactly what he expected.
Before you can say anything else, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back—warm, steady—guiding you gently out of the path of an incoming group of rowdy guys stumbling toward the bar.
He doesn’t say anything about it.
The both of you head back to the table, still buzzing from your shots. Laughter blends into the bass thumping through the club, you notice the dj switch out with another and you know it’s 2AM, you lean toward the group.
“I’ll be right back—just going to check in,” you say, touching Leehan’s shoulder lightly before slipping away.
The hallway to the office feels quieter than the rest of the venue, but the buzz in your limbs reminds you you’re still riding those drinks. You push open the office door and shut it behind you.
“Hey, Y/N—are you good?” Mark asks, looking up from the monitors.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you breathe out, straightening your dress. “I just came to do a check-in.”
“Good timing.” He stretches back in his chair. “We’re at full capacity, so I told Sungho to close the line for now and start doing a sweep for anyone too drunk inside.”
You nod, shifting your weight. “Oh, okay, cool… any fights tonight?” You try to sound casual, but your eyes flick over his expression, searching—checking if word about the situation outside has somehow made it back to him.
He shakes his head. “Mm, no. Nothing so far. Why?”
You decide instantly it’s better not to open that door. It wasn’t on club property, Kamy wasn’t a customer, and you’re not trying to escalate something that already fizzled.
“Nah, nothing. That’s all.” You smile, turning toward the exit.
“Oh—hey,” he calls before you reach the door. “How’s the new client?”
You pause, letting your expression soften. “They’re good. Very kind and respectful.”
Mark gives a satisfied nod. “Good to hear.”
You take that as your cue to leave, slipping back into the noise and neon glow of the club—your heartbeat already syncing back to the music, and your mind drifting toward the table waiting downstairs.
Making your way back out through the staff door, you step into the wall of heat, music, and bodies. The crush of people on the dance floor is thicker than before, and you angle your way through, eyes locked on your table in the distance. You’re ready to push through the last cluster of dancers when a hand clamps around your arm and yanks you back so hard your breath catches.
You spin, coming face-to-face with a guy whose cologne would’ve been pleasant if it wasn’t drowned in the stench of alcohol. His eyes are glassy, unfocused, predatory.
“Hey, sexy,” he slurs, leaning in far too close. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you a good time.”
A wave of disgust rolls through you. You try to yank your arm free, but his grip is iron-tight—drunkenly fueled and far stronger than yours. Panic flares, but training flicks on autopilot as your free hand reaches your radio. You thumb the switch over to broadcast all.
“Sungho—need assistance. Now,” you manage, voice steady despite your racing heart.
But the guy isn’t waiting. He pulls you flush against his chest, his hands roaming places they shouldn’t even be near. You push at him, nails digging into his wrist, but he doesn’t budge.
You wish—desperately—that you could knock him hard enough to send him back a few centuries. But every attempt is useless. His grip bruises. His breath is hot on your cheek.
And then suddenly—he’s gone.
Ripped off you with such force you stumble backward, catching yourself on a solid chest. Before you can even turn to see who steadied you, the drunk lunges again, spit flying as he snarls, “She’s mine!”
You twist around—and freeze.
Taesan stands in front of you, rage carved into every line of his face. Not the quiet, amused expression he’d worn earlier. Not the reserved politeness. This is pure, lethal fury.
“Don’t touch her,” he bites out, voice low and shaking—not with fear, but with restraint.
The guy lunges again, but this time Sungho appears like a shot, catching him mid-swing. And the moment Sungho registers the situation—that you were groped—his expression shifts into something dangerous. He hauls the drunk out with no struggle at all.
Air rushes back into your lungs.
Your knees wobble, and the arm around you tightens slightly—steady, grounding. You turn and find Leehan behind you, hands gentle where everything else tonight had been forceful.
Then your gaze lifts back to Taesan.
His chest is rising and falling fast. Jaw tight. Eyes still burning.
“Thank you,” you breathe, the words small but heavy with meaning—for both of them.
Taesan doesn’t respond immediately. He just looks at you, the fury slowly melting into something else entirely. Something protective. Something he can’t quite hide.
And Leehan gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as if silently saying: You’re safe now.
Come on y/n what the hell is going on tonight, a toxic ex, a drunk customer AND a hot new client? No not hot, maybe? Okay yea—STOP.
You can practically feel how unhinged you look to the duo while you have a full-blown internal meltdown, but you shake it off and head back toward the table like nothing happened. Leehan motions for you to slide into the inside of the booth, and you genuinely appreciate the small act of care. You plop down with all the grace of an off-balance cat, limbs everywhere, and lean back until you’re staring up at the club’s laser-striped ceiling.
A heavy sigh rolls out of you, loud enough that Taesan’s head tilts your way.
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking equal parts concerned and like he’s bracing for you to go full psycho.
“Yeah, I’m good. Nothing like getting groped at work,” you offer with a sarcastic smile.
His expression darkens. Not the confused, soft-hearted look from earlier—this one is sharp. He glances toward the entrance where Sungho had just dragged your assaulter into the night, then shares a look with Leehan.
And that look is not friendly.
Before you can even sit up properly, they both get ready to stand.
“Are you guys okay?” you ask, eyebrows up, but Taesan’s eyes are locked on the door, a quiet burn behind them like he’s already imagining what he wants to do to the guy.
They’re about to go out there and do something very… counterproductive to Sungho ever letting them back into this club.
Your face goes pale and the words explode out of you:
“No—no, it’s okay, I’m okay! And besides, Sungho told me over the earpiece the cops were doing a cap check when I called for help, so even if you went out there the guy is already gone.”
They both freeze, shoot another glance at each other—this time more resigned—and ease back into their seats like two large dogs being told to sit
After multiple check-ins from your friends and customers, the rest of the night rolls out smoothly. By the time the clock strikes 3 , you’re practically bouncing on your feet, ready to go home and decompress with your friends.
“Hey, should we wait outside for you guys?” Leehan asks, looking just as excited at the prospect of hanging out.
“Yeah, sure—just wait out front. We should only be like ten minutes,” you reply.
With a nod and a collective inhale like he’s bracing himself, he gestures toward the exit before heading out.
“Are you okay, for real, y/n?” Jaehyun asks as everyone gathers their bags in the staff room.
You nod, mumbling a quiet “mhmm,” before adding, “Nothing new. I promise I’m okay, guys,” trying to reassure them as you sling your purse over your shoulder and head out with Jiyeon and Jaehyun in tow.
You find Sungho at the door, saying goodbye to his team while signing off the security list for the night.
“Are we all ready?” he asks.
Nodding, you glance around instinctively, searching for Leehan. You spot him leaning against the wall a little way down from the entrance—and as you get closer, you notice another body beside him, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.
“Hey, guys. You all set—?” you start, but before you can question why the redhead is there, Leehan answers for you.
“Woonhak and Riwoo were absolutely shitfaced, so we got them an Uber home,” he says, jerking his head toward Taesan. “Now that leaves you to struggle with us two.”
Taesan looks completely unbothered by the amount of alcohol you know he consumed—calm, composed, and very much not upset that a certain redhead will be joining you.
You try to mask your excitement. “Sounds like more fun to me,” you say, instinctively rubbing your palms up and down your arms.
Was it always this cold at 3: 15a.m.?
“Okay, let’s sort out cars,” Sungho says. “Who drove in today?”
“Jae said he’d drive my car,” you say, mentally recalculating the extras you’ve acquired through the night. “So that leaves two seats in my car, and then Sungho can bring one more.”
“SHOTGUN WITH SUNGHO!” Jiyeon practically screams, earning a collective wince.
“Holy fuck, thanks, Ji. I definitely didn’t want to hear tomorrow,” Jaehyun grimaces, side-eyeing her.
“What? It’s not my fault I fear for my life every time you drive,” she says defensively.
You can’t help but silently pray you actually make it home physically intact.
“Okay, meet y’all there,” Sungho says as the group splits up in the parking lot, heading toward the two cars.
“Who wants to sit in the front?” Jaehyun asks the three of you.
You immediately step back. Leehan answers with a simple, “Okay, I will—but I really don’t want to die, please, Jae.”
You breathe a sigh of relief and head toward the back seat just as Taesan slides in from the other side.
The trip is short, and somehow you arrive back at your place in one piece. The drive is filled with laughter—conversations between the boys about smoking habits and the absolute ordeal of getting Riwoo and Woonhak into an Uber. You listen along, laughing when it feels right.
Once parked, you unlock the front door, the boys trailing behind you. The second you cross the threshold, your shoulders drop, tension melting away.
“If you wanna sleep over, there are three guest rooms,” you say casually. “So feel free.”
You give Leehan and Taesan a quick tour, ending it at your bedroom before gesturing in random directions .
“Look around. I’m just gonna wash up quickly.”
Pulling an oversized black hoodie over your frame and slipping into matching shorts, you pad down the hall in your bunny house slippers toward the games room. Everyone’s already there — draped across couches, sunk into bean bags, mid-conversation and comfortable.
Your entrance barely registers with the room.
It registers with Taesan.
His eyes flick up automatically, sweeping over you without an ounce of subtlety — the hoodie, your bare legs, the softness of you in your own space. He swallows and looks away just as quickly, jaw tightening like he’s annoyed with himself.
You drop beside Jaehyun without hesitation, swinging your legs across his lap and leaning back with a satisfied huff.
“Alright,” you announce, stretching slightly, “let’s get this shit started. I deserve it.”
Jiyeon cheers, already on her feet. She heads to the cupboard and returns with purpose, setting rolling papers, filters, a grinder, and a pen in the middle of the group like it’s a ritual. You toss her the bag of weed on instinct and reach for the pen.
Just before it reaches your lips, you glance around the room.
“Oh — and no more asking if I’m okay,” you add lightly. “I promise I’m good.”
The effect hits almost instantly — a warm buzz unfurling through your chest, tingling down your spine. You exhale slowly, letting yourself sink into it, lips curving as the feeling settles.
When you open your eyes, Taesan’s already watching.
Not openly — not like before — but close enough that when your gaze catches his, he doesn’t look away straight away. His expression stays neutral, but something tighter sits beneath it.
The room slips easily back into noise — Jiyeon mid-story, Leehan cutting in with commentary, Sungho already grinding weed like it’s muscle memory. Laughter overlaps, smoke curls upward, soft and lazy.
But the space between you and Taesan feels different now — charged, deliberate — like he’s acutely aware of where you are, who you’re touching, and exactly how much he’s pretending not to care.
And it’s only just begun.
A joint is rolled, paper smoothed and sealed before Sungho lights it. It moves around the circle, to Jiyeon thenJaehyun and when Jaehyun leans forward to pass it along, your legs slide a little higher on his thighs as your reach forward to claim it.
He’s stretched out on the opposite couch, arm slung over the backrest, posture relaxed in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze flicks from your legs to Jaehyun’s hand, then back to your face — sharp, controlled.
The awareness sits warm in your chest, low and electric.
After leehans drag the joint finally reaches Taesan, he takes it slowly, fingers deliberate. He inhales without rush, shoulders dropping as smoke fills his lungs. You shouldn’t be watching.
The quiet confidence in how still he stays.
The exhale — steady, controlled — smoke clinging to him like it knows where it belongs.
Your stomach flips, heat pooling in a way you pointedly ignore.
Taesan lifts his eyes mid-exhale.
The room keeps talking. Someone laughs. The lighter clicks again as another paper gets rolled. But the moment stretches anyway, taut and silent between you.
His gaze flicks pointedly to where your legs rest across Jaehyun’s.
Something dark — unmistakably jealous — flashes there before he looks away, passing the joint on like nothing happened.
Jaehyun leans closer to you, voice easy. “You good?”
You nod, eyes still lingering across the room. “Yeah.”
Across from you, Taesan shifts, posture tightening just slightly as if he’s holding himself back from something. The distance stays in place — physical, deliberate —
—but it does nothing to dull the pull.
Smoke thickens. Another joint is sparked.
And even from opposite sides of the room, with your legs draped over someone else entirely, Taesan’s attention stays fixed on you —
like the night’s daring him to say something first
Jiyeon claps her hands once, sharp and excited.
“Alright,” she announces. “Smoking games. Same rules as always — you answer, you hit. You dodge, you double it.”
Leehan lights up immediately. “Oh this is dangerous.”
Sungho groans. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”
You’re still stretched across the couch when the first round starts, head tipped back against the cushion, legs loosely draped where Jaehyun’s been sitting. Taesan hasn’t looked away since the pen hit your lips, his attention flicking every time someone laughs too close to you.
The pen gets passed. Questions stay light at first — embarrassing stories, worst highs, stupid crushes — enough to loosen everyone up.
Then Leehan tilts his head, eyes glinting.
“Okay,” he says, pointing between Jaehyun and Taesan, “I dare you two to switch seats.”
The room reacts instantly.
“What?” Jaehyun laughs. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” Leehan shrugs. “And because I’m bored.”
Jaehyun looks at you, amused. “You cool?”
You lift one shoulder. “Sure.”
Taesan’s already standing.
He doesn’t rush it — just moves with that quiet decisiveness of his, stepping forward as Jaehyun shifts out from under your legs. For half a second, there’s nowhere for you to put them.
Your legs settle automatically across his lap.
Taesan’s posture stiffens for a heartbeat before he adjusts, one hand bracing lightly on the couch, the other hovering like he doesn’t quite know where to put it. His thigh is warmer than Jaehyun’s was — solid, grounding.
Jaehyun drops into Taesan’s old seat, eyebrows lifting like he’s clocked everything at once.
“Oh,” he says. “That makes sense.”
Taesan finally lets his hand rest — not gripping, not loose — fingers settling carefully at the back of your calf. The touch is light, deliberate. He doesn’t look at you when he does it.
Bottle spins. Lands on Jiyeon. She smirks and aims straight for you.
“Truth,” you respond and like she’s just won the lottery she says. “Who was your first kiss?”
The room stills just enough to notice.
You don’t hesitate. “Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were kids. It barely counts.”
Taesan’s fingers tighten.
“Still counts,” Leehan says immediately. “A kiss is a kiss.”
“How old?” Sungho asks, curious.
“Twelve,” you shrug. “Maybe thirteen.”
Taesan exhales slowly through his nose, gaze fixed somewhere ahead. His thumb starts moving — slow, absent — tracing once along the back of your calf like he needs something to do with his hands.
You glance toward him. “You okay?” you ask, worried he might be greening out by the way his face is fixed in an absent-minded daze.
He looks up then, eyes dark, unreadable.
“Yeah,” he says evenly. “Just listening.”
his hand shifts — firmer now, palm settling more fully against your shin, grounding you there. Possessive without being obvious.
Jiyeon claps again, delighted. “Next question!”
The room exhales, laughter creeping back in — but the air’s changed. You can feel Taesan more now, the weight of your legs on his lap, the steady pressure of his hand.
When the pen comes back around, Taesan leans in slightly, voice low, meant only for you.
“Ancient history?” he murmurs.
You tilt your head, just enough that your knee presses more fully into his side.
His thumb presses once, slow and intentional.
Under the smoke and laughter, it sits heavy — right where your legs rest across Taesan’s lap, daring anyone to call it out.
After another rotation Leehan’s already spiralling about food. “I’m telling you, if we don’t order soon I’m gonna start hallucinating flavours.”
“That’s not how hunger works,” Jiyeon laughs.
You shift slightly, calves sliding against Taesan’s thighs. He stills immediately, then exhales, hand tightening just enough at your shin to ground both of you. His thumb presses once, slow and controlled, like he’s reminding himself to behave.
“I could really go for something cold,” you say absentmindedly. “Or sweet. Or both.”
Taesan hums, noncommittal. “You sound undecided.”
You glance down at him. “Helpful.”
Sungho looks between you. “You gonna get something, or just talk about it?”
You sigh, finally lifting your legs. “I’m grabbing a drink before I start overthinking it.”
Taesan’s hand lingers a beat longer than necessary before letting go.
You don’t notice him follow.
The kitchen is brighter, quieter — the hum of the fridge replacing the chaos you’ve left behind. You open it, bending in, letting the cold air wash over you as you reach for a drink.
“You always escape when things get loud?”
You startle slightly, then relax when you see Taesan leaning against the counter, arms crossed, you watch his eyes flick from your a
Ass back to your face watching you like this was inevitable.
“I live here,” you say, shutting the fridge. “It’s allowed.”
He smiles faintly. “Fair.”
You take a sip, eyes on him. He’s closer than before — not crowding, just intentionally within your space.
“You vanished pretty fast,” he adds.
“You followed pretty fast.”
His gaze drops briefly — not to your eyes — then lifts again. Deliberate.
“Didn’t want to miss anything.”
You gesture lightly with your drink. “Want some?”
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
You tilt your head, a grin tugging at your lips. “If you wanna taste,” you say casually, like it’s nothing, “just ask.”
Instead, he steps closer — close enough that the air shifts, close enough that you can smell smoke and something warm beneath it. He leans in slightly, voice low.
“You shouldn’t say things like that unless you’re prepared,” he murmurs.
Your pulse jumps. “Prepared for what?”
His eyes flick to your mouth. “For someone taking you seriously.”
For one charged second, it feels like he might close the distance completely.
Then he straightens, restraint snapping back into place.
“We should go back,” he says easily. “Before they start speculating.”
“They already are,” you reply, smiling.
Back in the games room, Jiyeon looks up immediately. “Wow. That was suspiciously timed.”
Leehan squints. “Why do you both look like you just had a conversation I wasn’t invited to?”
Taesan sits, calm as ever. “Kitchen’s intense.”
You settle back beside him, your legs finding their place across his lap again without discussion. His hand hovers your thigh before moving back to your shin familiar now, steady.
Another joint gets lit. Food plans resume. Laughter fills the room.
But Taesan leans in, mouth near your ear, voice just for you.
“Next time,” he says quietly, “don’t joke unless you mean it.”
His thumb presses once more and the action sends hot need straight to your core.
The tension stays exactly where it is — thick, unspoken, and very much alive.
The game rolls on, laughter coming easier now — louder, messier — as confessions start spilling out unchecked. Someone admits to a fantasy that has Sungho choking on his drink. Leehan nearly falls off the bean bag laughing. And then Jiyeon opens her mouth.
She grins, completely unapologetic. “I’m absolutely not.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face. “I did not need to know that.”
Taesan laughs under his breath beneath you, chest vibrating just enough that you feel it through your legs. The room feels hotter suddenly — too hot — the hoodie clinging in a way it hadn’t earlier.
You shift, fanning yourself once. “Okay. I’ll be right back. I need to change — this hoodie is way too hot.”
You lift your legs off Taesan’s lap, already half-standing when Sungho blinks at you.
“Just take the hoodie off then,” he says, genuinely confused.
“Sungho,” you say patiently, pointing at him, “love — when girls wear big hoodies at home, there’s usually nothing underneath.”
“WHY would you SAY that?”
You laugh harder, swaying slightly, hands already reaching for the hem. “Or,” you add brightly, “I guess I could just take it off.”
You barely get your fingers under the fabric.
Suddenly, the ground disappears.
He lifts you clean off your feet like it’s nothing, tossing you over his shoulder in one smooth motion as the room erupts into screaming.
You’re laughing so hard it hurts, gripping onto him as he carries you toward the stairs. “You’re so dramatic,” you giggle. “I was joking!”
“Absolutely not,” he says firmly, but he’s laughing too.
He carries you all the way upstairs, sets you gently on your bed like you don’t weigh a thing. You’re still grinning, breathless, hoodie rumpled, hair everywhere.
He shakes his head, amused. “You’re trouble.”
“Thank you,” you reply sweetly.
Taesan turns toward the door, clearly intending to leave — to be responsible, to regain control.
High confidence surges through you, bold and reckless, backed entirely by the buzz thrumming through your veins.
“And if I told you,” you say casually, leaning back on your hands, eyes never leaving him,
“that I said that just to get you up here?”
Slowly, Taesan turns back around.
The laughter downstairs fades into background noise. His gaze drops to you — sprawled on your bed, hoodie still very much on — then lifts back to your eyes, dark and unreadable.
“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” he says quietly.
He steps closer — not touching, not yet — close enough that the air changes.
“you don’t actually know how hard it is for me to walk back out that door.”
“Then don’t” you say flicking your gaze to his lips as he closes the door and advances on you and before you can compose yourself he’s standing in the space between your legs. “Tell me to stop and i will”
He says it with a raw, predatory hunger in his eyes that hits you hard, sending a violent jolt straight through your core., looking up at him through hooded eyes, biting your lip before saying “well if you won’t kiss me i guess i’ll have to go ask jaehyun for round 2-“ you don’t even finish before he is on you, lips fighting for dominance, he slides his hand up your throat before dragging his thumb down your bottom lip for him to have more access, you give it to him, moaning at the assault “fuck don’t make those sweet praises unless you want me to ruin you right now with all your friends downstairs so they can hear how much of a slut you are hmm?” You open your legs more for him to fit and grind yourself on him in the process earning a groan from taesan “easy baby, don’t want me to think you’ve been having these thoughts all night hmm?” You light up after hearing the petname “don’t care” you mumble out and deepen the kiss. Lewd makeout sounds fill the space as his hands roam your body and under the hem of your hoodie, you break the kiss finding your mouth dry from smoking, frowning you look up at taesan panting “dry mouth” as if this was a sign to head back to the group, taesan leans back and braces himself on his arms “open your mouth princess” he commands and you follow eagerly staring up at him as he spits into your mouth before continuing the assault, moans slip out of your mouth at the action. If you weren’t wet before you DEFINITELY are now. His hand starts venturing towards your ass as your legs straddle him from underneath. Fondling the skin before he starts a torturously long journey towards the hem of your shorts, but Ofcourse before he can continue a voice cuts through the moment.
Leehan’s shout carries up the stairs, slightly muffled by the closed bedroom door.
Taesan squeezes his eyes shut for a second, then lifts himself off you, pacing once like he’s trying to shake the feeling from his bones. He drags a hand through his hair, jaw tight as he forces himself back into something resembling composure.
You stay where you are, breath shallow, already missing the warmth you hadn’t realized you’d memorized.
“Get changed,” he says, voice still rough around the edges. “Quick. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
You hum softly, eyes never leaving him. “Mm. And you’re sleeping over tonight.”
He pauses at the door, glances back at you — really looks — the corner of his mouth lifting like he’s lost the argument before it even started.
“That was never not happening, baby.”
Then he’s gone, door opening and closing, footsteps retreating down the hall.
A second later, you hear his voice drift up faintly from downstairs.
“She tripped on the carpet.”
You scoff, offended. “Liar,” you mutter to yourself, laughing under your breath.
Standing there with mussed hair and clothes slightly askew, you finally shake yourself back into motion. You change quickly — trading the hoodie for a cropped black baby tee deliberately unassuming — though it does nothing to slow the heat still humming under your skin. You take a breath, smooth your hair as best you can, and head back downstairs like nothing just happened.
The games room is louder now. Bags rustle. Someone’s arguing over sauces. The smell of fried food cuts clean through the lingering smoke.
“There she is,” Jiyeon says, immediately clocking you. “You took suspiciously long.”
“I almost died of heatstroke,” you reply easily, dropping onto the edge of the couch. “Tragic.”
Leehan tosses you a fry. “You’re welcome.”
Across the room, Taesan doesn’t look at you right away. He’s leaned over the coffee table, sorting containers, jacket hanging on the back of the seat, jaw set like he’s still putting himself back together. The restraint is obvious — maybe only to you — but you feel it anyway.
Sungho eyes the two of you. “Why do you both look… different?”
“We don’t,” Taesan says immediately.
You smile into your drink.
The group settles into eating, conversation jumping everywhere at once — Jiyeon recounting a past hookup disaster, Leehan dramatically rating the food, Jaehyun laughing at sungho’s exaggerated reaction to the burger he just tried . Normal. Easy. Almost convincing.
Taesan finally glances your way.
It’s brief. Measured. But it lands heavy — a quiet check-in, a reminder. His knee bumps yours under the table, accidental enough to pass, deliberate enough to mean something. You don’t move away.
Later, when the noise rises again and attention shifts, he leans in slightly, voice low so only you can hear.
You meet his eyes, calm on the surface, everything else still buzzing. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, softer. His knee stays right where it is.
The night stretches on — food disappearing, joints being passed, laughter rolling warm and unguarded. But every so often, you feel his gaze, feel the tension tug back into place like it never really left.
And when you catch his eye again, he smirks — just enough to promise this isn’t over.
The night stretches the way only good ones do — unhurried, hazy at the edges, stitched together by smoke and half-finished conversations.
Joints keep getting rolled without anyone really announcing it. Someone always just… does it. Sungho by habit, fingers quick and practiced. Jiyeon slower, more deliberate, licking the paper like it’s a ritual. Leehan tries once, messes it up, declares it “artistic” anyway and that pens are his go to.
They circulate lazily — light, inhale, pass — the rhythm easy and familiar. Ashtrays fill. Windows crack open. Someone switches playlists without discussion, the music melting into background warmth.
You watch people hit their peaks in real time.
Leehan sprawls out on the floor at some point, staring at the ceiling fan like it’s telling him secrets. “I think I just unlocked a new level of thinking,” he murmurs.
Jaehyun laughs. “You said that an hour ago.”
“Yeah but now I mean it.”
Jiyeon is curled into the corner of the couch, knees tucked up, giggling at absolutely nothing before suddenly going quiet, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Guys,” she says softly. “My body feels… very soft.”
Sungho nods like this is serious information. “Yeah. You’re there.”
You’re somewhere in between — floating but grounded, buzz steady instead of overwhelming. A joint finds its way into your hand and you take a slow pull, exhaling toward the open window. Outside, the sky has started to shift — not quite light yet, but no longer fully dark.
Taesan sits across from you now, posture looser than before, elbows resting on his knees. He smokes slower than the others — measured inhales, controlled exhales — like he knows exactly where his limit is and refuses to cross it. Every so often, his eyes flick to you, checking in without words.
At one point, the joint makes its way to him and you watch — the way his lips close around it, the way his shoulders relax as he exhales. Something about it pulls at you, low and familiar, and you look away before he catches you staring.
“Sun’s coming up,” Jaehyun says eventually, glancing out the window.
Sure enough, the room starts to glow softly — pale blue bleeding into gold. Everyone groans like it’s an accusation.
“No way,” Leehan says. “We just sat down.”
“You’ve been horizontal for forty minutes,” Jiyeon replies.
Someone laughs. Someone else sighs contentedly. The energy has shifted now — slower, heavier, blissfully tired. Peak stoned, drifting toward that quiet aftermath where words thin out and presence is enough.
Taesan moves closer, settling beside you without comment. Your shoulders brush. He stays there.
Outside, the sun keeps rising.
Inside, the smoke thins, the night loosening its grip — but the warmth, the tension, the memory of it all stays curled comfortably in your chest,
“Okay,” you say, clapping your hands once, the sound gentler than intended. “Judging by the state of everyone, I’m gonna say… everyone’s staying over.”
You glance around the room, taking stock.
Leehan answers by nodding solemnly before immediately lying flat on his back again, eyes locked on the ceiling fan like it’s mid-monologue. “I support this decision,” he murmurs.
You giggle. “Yeah, figured.”
You start pointing as you talk, slipping easily into host mode. “Jae and Sungho, you guys can take your usual room downstairs.”
Sungho gives a lazy thumbs-up. Jaehyun barely reacts — already halfway gone, head tipped back against the couch, eyes heavy.
“Jiyeon,” you continue, “you can take the other room downstairs too.”
She hums sleepily. “Bless.”
“And,” you add, glancing upstairs, “Taesan and Leehan can have the room up there. It’s usually empty anyway, because Jaehyun likes company so the green demons don’t get him, which means he ends up with Sungho.”
Jaehyun lifts his head just enough to protest. “They’re not demons,” he mumbles. “They’re just… loud thoughts.”
Leehan snorts talking directly to the fan. “See? Haunted.”
Laughter ripples through the room again, softer now — slower, weighed down by exhaustion and the last of the high.
You look back at Jaehyun, who’s clearly about two minutes from completely knocking out, and gently nudge his knee. “Go lie down before you pass out sitting up.”
He squints at you. “You’re bossy.”
As people begin to shuffle — grabbing blankets, shoes kicked off wherever — Taesan lingers near the couch, watching the room settle. When his eyes meet yours, there’s something calm there now. Warm. Still charged, but quieter — like an ember instead of a flame.
“Need help with anything?” he asks casually.
You smile. “Just don’t let him fall asleep on the stairs,” you say, nodding toward Leehan, who hasn’t moved.
Taesan laughs under his breath. “I’ll handle it.”
The house slips into that in-between state — not fully asleep, not fully awake — as footsteps fade and doors close softly. Outside, the morning light creeps in, pale and forgiving.
And for the first time all night, everything feels settled. Comfortable. Familiar.
You gather the empty food bags and carry them into the kitchen, dropping them onto the bench before moving quietly toward the fridge. You bend, reaching in for another bottle of peach iced tea.
You’ve barely straightened when you feel it — a presence settling in behind you.
Hands find your hips, firm and familiar, fingers spreading like they already know the shape. His voice follows, low and unmistakable.
“You really shouldn’t be bending over like that,” Taesan murmurs, “with this many men in the house.”
You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean back into him just enough to tease, feeling his grip tighten in response. Slowly, deliberately, you straighten and turn to face him.
You twist the cap off the bottle and take a sip — then fumble it on purpose. The cold tea spills, trailing down your collarbone and soaking into the front of your shirt.
Taesan’s eyes track the droplets without shame before lifting back to yours, dark and intent.
“I guess I have to shower again now,” you add innocently, batting your lashes.
He exhales through his nose, half a laugh, half something else. “That’s tragic.”
You step out of his grip, slipping past him with a smile. “It would be even more unfortunate,” you say over your shoulder, “if a tall redhead happened to join me.”
Then you’re already moving — padding up the stairs toward your room, heart pounding, fully aware of the pause behind you.
The mirror is already fogged as you strip down and step into the shower, sighing softly as the hot water welcomes your body. Steam curls around you, the sound of it drowning out everything else until it feels like you’re suspended in your own quiet world.
You tilt your head back, letting the water run through your hair, shoulders loosening as the tension finally begins to melt away.
You don’t turn around. Already knowing.
The air shifts — warmer somehow — another body step in behind you. Taesan’s presence fills the space immediately, solid and unmistakable, his chest warm against your back even before he touches you.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, close to your ear.
You smile, eyes still closed. “You followed me.”
His hands settle at your waist, slow and deliberate as they roam and he peppers kisses along your neck and shoulder“You invited me.”
Water spills over both of you now, steam thickening, the world narrowing down to the press of his body and the steady rhythm of the shower.
“We should probably behave,” he whispers against your ear.
You laugh softly. “Probably.”
You both know it’s a lie. The moment the word leaves your lips, you spin away, stepping back just enough that he’s left alone beneath the direct spray. Water cascades over him as he takes you in fully — eyes dragging slowly from your chest, your tits lifted and unapologetic, down your body until his gaze lingers long enough to make his breath hitch, tension pulling tight through him.
You don’t miss a thing either.
Water slicks down Taesan’s torso, catching in the hard lines of his abs, carving shadows where muscle meets muscle. His shoulders are broad enough to block the spray behind him, droplets clinging to his skin like they’re reluctant to leave. Wet hair hangs into his eyes, darker now, heavier — and the look he gives you from beneath it is openly hungry, unguarded in a way you haven’t seen all night.
Your eyes continue down and you swallow when you see his cock Hard, needy and wanting attention.
His jaw tightens as his gaze drags back up your body, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorising you. Like he’s trying to behave and failing in real time.
“Fuck,” he breathes, barely audible over the water.
You step closer, close enough that heat replaces the chill between you, close enough that your skin almost brushes his. His hand lifts — hesitates — then settles at your waist, thumb pressing in with quiet intent, grounding and claiming all at once.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” he murmurs.
You tilt your head, lips curling. “Maybe.”
The distance vanishes as he guides you back against the cool tile of the shower wall, his mouth claiming yours in a deep, unyielding kiss. A moan escapes you, vibrating straight into him, while your arms wind around his neck, pulling him nearer. His hands slide downward, cupping your ass with a firm squeeze before delivering a sharp smack that draws a sharp gasp from your throat. He nips at your lower lip, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper, “Jump up, princess.”
Without hesitation, you brace against his shoulders and leap, wrapping your legs around his waist to straddle him. He catches you effortlessly, strong arms supporting your weight as your mouths crash together again in fervent exploration. The tip of his cock brushes your clit with each subtle shift, sending sparks of need through you. Emboldened, you rock your hips, grinding shamelessly against him, eliciting a deep groan from the redhead.
“Not yet, baby,” he says, his tone laced with restraint.
You whine in protest, the sound raw and pleading. “But I want to taste you,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “Please, Daddy.”
The pet name draws another groan from him, deeper this time, as desire flickers in his eyes. He lowers you gently to your feet, the water cascading over you both. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”
His words hang in the humid air, a surrender wrapped in command. You sink to your knees on the slick shower floor, water streaming down your body as you gaze up at Taesan with wide, innocent eyes that belie the hunger churning inside you. His cock stands rigid before you, thick and veined, the head glistening under the spray. You lean in, parting your lips to drag your tongue along the underside, savoring the salty taste mixed with the clean rinse of water.
A low moan rumbles from his chest as you swirl your tongue around the tip, then take him into your mouth, sucking gently at first “fuck me “ he groans raw and filled with lust. Your hands grip his thighs, fingers digging into the firm muscle as you bob your head, taking more of him with each pass. He threads his fingers through your wet hair, not pulling yet, just holding, guiding your rhythm. “That's it, princess,” he praises, voice husky. “Suck Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are.”
The degrading words send a thrill through you, making you moan around his length, the vibration drawing a hiss from him. You look up again, eyes locked on his, all wide-eyed innocence as you hollow your cheeks and push forward, letting him slide deeper until he hits the back of your throat. Gagging slightly, you pull back, saliva trailing from your lips to his shaft, but you dive in again, eager to please. Your moans fill the space between slurps, needy and unrestrained, echoing off the tiles.
Taesan's grip tightens, hips bucking forward as he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth with controlled force. “Fuck, look at you,” he growls, praise laced with filth. “Such a perfect cocksucking whore, taking it so deep for me.” You whimper, the sound muffled by his cock, tears pricking your eyes from the stretch, but you keep staring up at him, innocent gaze unwavering even as he drives harder, the head breaching your throat. Your throat convulses around him, milking his length, and you moan louder, the vibration making his thrusts stutter.
He pulls back just enough to let you breathe, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing cock. “You're doing so well, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek in a tender contrast to his words. “My pretty baby, choking on Daddy's dick like you were made for it.” Emboldened, you suck him back in, hollowing your cheeks as he resumes, fucking your throat with deeper strokes now, his balls slapping against your chin with each plunge. Moans spill from you uncontrollably—high-pitched and desperate—mixing with the wet sounds of your mouth working him over.
Your free hand slips between your legs, but he notices, shaking his head with a smirk. “Not yet, princess. Earn it.” You whine around him, the denial heightening your ache, but you obey, focusing on the way he swells in your mouth, his breaths coming ragged. He thrusts faster, groaning your name, until suddenly he yanks you off with a pop, your lips red and slick. “Up” he commands, hauling you to your feet.
As he pulls you upright, your hand darts to your clit without thinking, fingers circling the swollen nub frantically under the warm cascade. The relief is immediate, a gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure sparks through you. Taesan watches, eyes dark with lust, his cock twitching against your thigh. “Greedy baby,”he mutters, but there's approval in his tone. He shuts off the water, the sudden silence amplifying your soft moans as you rub yourself harder, legs trembling.
then scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you out of the shower and into the bedroom. The cool air hits your damp skin, raising goosebumps, but his body heat chases them away. He tosses you onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight, and you sprawl there, fingers still teasing your clit, chasing that building edge. Taesan looms over you, his tall frame casting a shadow as he climbs on, ready to claim more
Taesan’s eyes rake over you, dark and predatory, as you lie sprawled on the bed, fingers still circling your clit with desperate urgency. The room smells of steam and sex, the air thick with anticipation. He grabs your wrist, yanking your hand away just as your hips buck toward release. “Did I say you could touch that pretty pussy?” he growls, voice low and commanding, pinning your arms above your head with one large hand. His red hair falls damp across his forehead, framing the sharp hunger in his gaze.
You squirm beneath him, a bratty whine escaping your lips. “But, I need—“ He cuts you off with a firm slap to your inner thigh, the sting making you gasp and arch up, your soaked folds exposed and aching. “You'll get what I give you, princess. And right now you are gonna sit here and be a good girl while i worship you.” He releases your wrists but shoots you a warning look—don't move—as he shifts down the bed, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders.
His hot breath fans over your core first, teasing, before his tongue flicks out to trace your slit from bottom to top, lapping up the slick arousal that's been building. You moan loudly, the sound raw and unrestrained, your hands fisting the sheets as he spreads your thighs wider. “Shh,” he murmurs against your skin, the vibration sending sparks through you. “Quiet we don’t need the house to know what we are doing, do we, princess?” The words are a taunt, laced with that hard edge of dominance, and you bite your lip to stifle another cry, even as your body betrays you by clenching in need.
He dives in fully then, mouth sealing over your pussy, tongue plunging deep inside you with a wet, obscene slurp. Spit mixes with your juices immediately, his saliva dripping down your folds as he eats you like a man starved. He sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt, then soothes it with broad, flat licks. Your moans turn into whimpers, high and needy, as he works you over—tongue thrusting in and out, fucking your hole while his lips tug at your swollen nub. Drool spills from his mouth onto your thighs, slick and messy, coating everything in a glossy sheen.
“You taste so fucking good,” he rasps between laps, pulling back briefly to spit directly onto your clit, watching it mix with your wetness before rubbing it in with his thumb. “Pretty baby dripping for Daddy's tongue.' You try to push against his face, bratty impatience flaring, but he pins your hips down with bruising force, holding you still. “ stay put, or I'll stop and make you beg.” The threat works; you submit with a frustrated groan, letting him control the pace.
He rewards you by doubling down, tongue circling your entrance before spearing inside again, deeper this time, curling to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. Spit trails from his chin as he devours you, the wet smacks of his mouth against your pussy filling the room. You look down, catching his eyes—intense, unyielding—and the sight of him between your legs,wet red hair tousled, makes you moan louder, unable to hold back. “Taesan... please...” you plead, voice breaking.
He chuckles darkly, the sound humming against your core. 'Please what? Hmm? Use your words love” His fingers join in, two thick digits sliding into you alongside his tongue, stretching you as he pumps them roughly. More spit—right onto where his fingers disappear inside you, easing the glide, making everything filthier “oh my fuck- god” You babble out as you thrash, moans turning into cries, the pressure building fast under his relentless assault.
he warns again, nipping your clit sharply. 'Careful, we wouldn’t want them to hear how I'm wrecking this tight little hole, princess. Or how you're going to gush for me like a good slut.' The degrading praise pushes you closer, your body coiling tight. He sucks your clit into his mouth, fingers curling hard against your walls, tongue flicking nonstop. Spit everywhere—dripping down his wrist, soaking the sheets beneath your ass. “I’m gonna - fuck- fuuuuck”
It hits you like a wave, the orgasm crashing through with a force that has you screaming despite his words. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers, and then you're squirting—hot, clear fluid spraying out in pulses, drenching his face and chest. He doesn't pull away, lapping it up greedily, tongue extended to catch every drop as you ride the high, body shaking, moans dissolving into sobs of pleasure. “That's it, good girl soak me” he growls, voice muffled by your release. “Such a messy, perfect whore.”
Finally, he eases off, lips shiny with your cum and his spit, crawling back up to hover over you. Your chest heaves, legs trembling around him, but the brat in you sparks again—you reach for his cock, stroking it lazily. 'More, Daddy?' you tease breathlessly. He smirks, grabbing your chin to force your gaze to his. 'Oh, princess, we're just getting started.'
Before pressing his lips to yours allowing you both to taste the lewd activities you both partook in. Moaning loudly when he moves down to your neck to leave marks “just for me baby, only me” he says fondling your tits while his mouth continues peppering hickeys along your chest, neck and collarbone. You are a mumbling mess from all the release he’s giving you, “need you” you manage to whine out as he lifts his head and come back up to kiss you,
He dragged the tip of his cock painfully slow up and down you folds before pushing in, moaning out at the stretch before he shuts you up with his mouth and slipping in to the hilt, “fuck baby” he groans deep and guttural, your eyes roll biting down on your lips before begging him to continue “just like that please” he obeys and starts drilling into you at a controlled pace, your head rolls to the side rendered speechless and a whining mess, taesan grabs your jaw and makes you look at him before he pushes your bottom lip down, signaling for you to open, he spits into your mouth makes you swallow before pushing twi fingers into your throat, you suck on his digits staring up at him wide eyed occasionally rolling your eyes and whimpering out from your pre occupied mouth “mhmm i know baby” you nod moaning louder as his thrusts become feral and his control snaps.
“Where baby” he continues the eye contact as he pounds into you relentlessly filling the room with lewd wet slapping sounds as you squirt on his unstopping cock crying out, “fill me up- please” before pulling his head down to kiss him hungrily to which he welcomes. His breathing gets more ragged as he groans more and more in your ear “take it baby” earning him a moan from you as he slams into you fully sheathed by your pussy “fuck me” he draws out looking down at you before capturing your lips again. He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping from your pleasured hole, stars fill your eyes as he inserts his fingers and pumps in and out so his cum comes gushing out of you before he comes back up to your face and without any instruction you open your mouth, sucking eagerly and cleaning both of your fluids off his fingers while he stares at you somehow even darker than before.
“Good girl”he says crawling next to you and resting against the headboard as you crawl towards him eyes still full of lust, climbing onto his lap you straddle yourself. “My turn” is all you say before grinding yourself down on his cock enough to elicit a guttural growl out of him “mmm such a hungry slut hmm” he says palms exploring your ass as you shamelessly grind along his shaft moaning at the friction. You lift up just enough to line your entrance up and without warning sink back down, his reaction is immediate - head rolled back and throat on display, cursing, you start riding him hard, feeling your own high approaching as you bounce, mindlessly babbling sweet “mmms” and “oh my god” out as you slam down on him again and again, as your own climax approaches you start rubbing your clit only to be stopped by taesan who replaces your hand with his and rapidly starts on your clit, your eyes roll as you lift off his cock just in time for your juices to come gushing out onto his thighs before pushing right back down on him. The room is filled with praises and moans as you continue to slam down on his shaft, thighs burning and taesan notices when you slow down, he just re adjusts so that his back is now on the bed instead of the headboard, he pulls your head down towards his to kiss you mercilessly as he begins pounding into you from under, hitting every spot possible, if they didn’t know what you were doing before they definitely do now. But honestly you were alot more focused on the redhead ruining you. “Let it go baby” taesan coos in your ear as he continues his rampage. You shut your eyes tight enough to see stars as your final wave rolls through you almost screaming as you collapse onto taesan who has just started reaching his high aswell “i know i know just a little more hmm?” his thrusts get more erratic as he greedily takes your mouth into his and bites down on your lip as he fills you yet again biting down another scream as he bottoms out in you, savouring the warmth radiating off him you look down at him before lifting yourself up off him and rolling over
“fuck that was… wow” you say rendered speechless “yeah i know i definitely did not think you were into that” he says rolling to face you as his fingers traced lines and swirls up your waist. “Well clearly you misjudged me” you say before getting off the bed “i’m gonna shower for real if you want to join” you say looking back over your shoulder and trying not to stumble as you disappearing through the ensuite door.
You were slightly disappointed when you didn’t immediately hear taesan follow you in but it didn’t take long for him to join you, this time no lust and all the care and attention you crave.
He cleaned you up, making sure you weren’t upset about him marking you. When you shrugged it off with a quiet, “It’s not like anyone will see them,” he shot you a sharp look.
“Like fuck they won’t,” he muttered, fingers already tilting your chin up. “Actually—let me make more. Higher on your neck.”
You laughed, trying and failing to slip from his grasp as he chased your skin with soft, lingering kisses, dotting your throat until you were breathless and pliant beneath him.
When you finally finished up in the shower and stepped back into your room, you noticed the bedsheets had been stripped and tossed into the laundry basket, fresh ones pulled tight in their place. The small, domestic gesture made you smile.
You climbed back into bed still naked, but not exposed—settling against him instead. As he followed, his arms draped easily around your frame, and you relaxed into his body, fitting there like you belonged, warmth and contentment sinking in as the morning sun glowed through
He goes quiet for a moment, breath steady at your back, thumb tracing absent circles along your arm. You think he’s drifting off until he speaks, voice low and careful.
“Can I ask you something?”
You hum in response, already tense in anticipation.
“This,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you, fingers pressing a little more firmly into your side, “what do you think this is?”
You swallow, staring at the wall ahead of you. “I don’t know,” you admit. “That’s kind of what I’ve been wondering too.”
He shifts, propping himself up slightly so he can see your face. “You think I just want… no strings?” There’s a faint edge to his tone, something wounded he isn’t quite hiding.
You hesitate, then nod. “I mean—maybe? I just didn’t want to assume you wanted more and make it weird.”
His brows knit together immediately. “Fuck,” he exhales softly, shaking his head. “That’s not—” He stops, choosing his words carefully. “That’s not how I feel about you.”
You turn fully toward him now, searching his face. “Then what do you feel?”
For a second he looks almost sad, like the question itself hurts. “I like you,” he says plainly. “More than I planned to. And it kind of sucks that you think I wouldn’t want you emotionally too.”
Your chest tightens. “I didn’t think you wouldn’t want me,” you say quickly. “I just didn’t want to be the one who wanted more.”
Silence settles between you, thick but not uncomfortable. He reaches up, brushing his thumb under your jaw, grounding you.
“So,” he says, quieter now, “what if we keep seeing each other? Properly. Not pretending this is nothing.”
Your heart stutters. “And the strings?”
“They can be there,” he answers. “Just… maybe not for everyone else to see yet.”
You smile, small but genuine. “Yeah. I can do that.”
He pulls you closer then, forehead resting against yours. “Me too,” he murmurs.
This time, when you settle back into his arms, he scoffs softly, a grin in his voice.
“I can’t believe I bagged a bottle girl.”
You twist just enough to look at him. “This bottle girl will walk out of this room if you say it again,” you warn, already half-laughing as you try to pull away.
You barely make it an inch before he grabs you, dragging you back against his chest with an indignant laugh of his own. “Hey—come back here,” he says, arms locking around you as you squirm, both of you laughing into the sheets until the moment dissolves into breathless quiet.
Eventually, you settle again, your back flush to his front, his chin resting lightly atop your head. His hold this time is unguarded, sure.
And it feels different—less uncertain, more deliberate.
Like something unnamed but agreed upon, quietly beginning in the dark.
Around 9 a.m., barely two hours after you’d both finally fallen asleep, Taesan stirs beside you. The room is quiet in that fragile morning way, light leaking in through the curtains. He props himself up on one elbow, eyes still heavy.
“Hey,” he whispers softly, brushing his thumb along your arm to wake you just enough. “I’m gonna slip back into the room with Leehan. Before anyone starts doing headcounts.”
You let out a sleepy huff, eyes still closed. “Mm… okay,” you mumble, rolling closer to the pillow. “Be sneaky.”
He smiles at that, leaning down to press a brief kiss to your temple before carefully disentangling himself and slipping out.
You wake again properly maybe forty minutes later, body sore in that slow, content way. After stretching across the bed like a cat warmed too long in the sun, every limb pleasantly heavy , you pull on soft shorts , an oversized tee—and pad downstairs,hair still caught between dry and damp.
The games room looks like a crime scene.
Jaehyun is sprawled across the couch sideways, one leg dangling off the edge, arm flung dramatically over his face. Sungho is on the floor with his back against the cabinet, staring blankly at nothing. Jiyeon is half-curled on a beanbag, scrolling on her phone with narrowed eyes.
“Why is the house so loud,” Jaehyun groans, even though no one’s talking.
Sungho squints at him. “You’re literally the one breathing aggressively.”
“I’m dying,” Jaehyun replies.
You clear your throat. “Morning.”
Three groggy heads turn toward you.
Jiyeon’s eyes sharpen immediately.
Uh oh. Damn our best-friend bond.
Sungho nods at you. “Hey. Do you think cereal counts as a real meal?”
“Yes,” Jaehyun says instantly. “If it’s eaten with intention.”
Jiyeon, however, stands up and walks straight toward you, arms crossing. “Why do you look like that?”
She tilts her head, studying you far too closely for someone who allegedly got no sleep. “I know that look.”
You scoff. “You literally don’t.”
Jaehyun squints. “Why do you both look like you’re about to fight?”
“We’re not,” Jiyeon says, eyes never leaving you. “I’m just… observing.”
You lean casually against the doorframe. “Observing what?”
She opens her mouth, then pauses. Frowns. “Nothing.”
You smile sweetly. “You sure?”
She groans, running a hand down her face. “God, maybe I’m just tired. You just look—relaxed. Suspiciously relaxed.”
Sungho snorts. “Everyone looks suspicious before coffee.”
Jiyeon shakes her head. “Yeah. Yeah, no. I’m overthinking.” She squints at you one last time. “Unless I’m not.”
You shrug. “You probably are.”
That seems to do it—she turns away, muttering something about never trusting vibes before 10 a.m.
Footsteps sound on the stairs a moment later.
Leehan appears first, freshly awake and immediately dramatic. “Okay but what are we eating?”
Jaehyun groans. “You woke up like that?”
“I know right?” Leehan says proudly. “I’m starving.”
Taesan follows behind him, hair still messy. His eyes flick to you without thinking—quick, instinctive—before he catches himself.
Jiyeon narrows her eyes again. “…Huh.”
Leehan flops onto the couch. “I vote food. Any food. now.”
Sungho stands, stretching. “You don’t vote. You don’t cook.”
“I contribute emotionally,” Leehan argues.
Jaehyun points weakly toward the kitchen. “If someone makes eggs I will actually leave.”
“Good,” Sungho replies. “More eggs.”
Taesan ends up leaning against the counter near you, close but careful. His hand brushes yours once, accidental enough to be deniable. You don’t pull away.
Leehan gasps, breaking you from the moment, hand flying to his chest. “Excuse you, I contribute emotionally,” he repeats, louder, like it might make it more valid.
Jaehyun lets out a long, suffering noise and slumps further into the couch. “You people don’t understand. Eggs after a night like last night is a hate crime.”
Sungho snorts, opening the fridge. “You say that every time.”
“And every time I’m right,” Jaehyun says dramatically, pointing at the ceiling. “My stomach is on life support.”
Leehan pops up instantly. “Okay but—hashbrowns. Hear me out. Crispy. Golden. Saving lives.”
Sungho closes the fridge and looks at him flatly. “We don’t have hashbrowns.”
Leehan’s face falls. “Why would you say that to me.”
“We have bread,” Sungho adds.
“That’s not helping,” Jaehyun groans. “That’s just toast propaganda.”
Taesan shifts beside you, voice calm but amused. “We could order breakfast.”
Leehan whirls toward him. “Yes. Finally someone with sense. I want hashbrowns. Non-negotiable.”
Sungho raises a brow. “You’re not paying.”
Leehan points between you and Taesan. “One of them looks like they slept well. That’s suspicious money energy.”
Jaehyun squints at you. “Actually—yeah. Why do you look… refreshed?”
You shrug casually. “Hydration.”
Jiyeon, from the beanbag, lets out a sharp laugh. “That’s bullshit.”
Jaehyun sits up slightly. “Wait—what does that mean.”
“Nothing,” Jiyeon says too quickly. “I’m just saying—hydration is a lie sold by Big Water.”
Leehan claps his hands. “Focus. Breakfast. If I don’t get hashbrowns in the next ten minutes I’m going to start biting people.”
Sungho points a warning finger at him. “You bite anyone and I will throw you outside.”
“Worth it,” Leehan replies without hesitation.
Taesan’s fingers brush yours again, this time lingering half a second longer. He leans in just enough to murmur, “He’s not joking.”
Jaehyun flops back dramatically. “If Leehan bites me, tell my story. Tell them I died hungry and misunderstood.”
Jiyeon throws a cushion at his head. “You’re not dying.”
“I am spiritually,” he replies, muffled.
The room fills with overlapping voices—arguing, laughing, mock-threatening—Sungho trying to regain order, Leehan chanting “hashbrowns, hashbrowns” under his breath, Jaehyun groaning like a Victorian child.
Taesan clears his throat, cutting through the noise just enough to be dangerous. “Okay. I’ve made an executive decision.”
Slowly, he lifts his phone. The DoorDash app is already open, cart empty and waiting like a loaded weapon.
“Oh my god,” Leehan gasps, scrambling to his feet. “Hashbrowns. I want hashbrowns. Extra crispy. If they’re not crispy send them back.”
Sungho reaches out to grab the phone. “You don’t even know where we’re ordering from.”
“I don’t care,” Leehan says. “Find somewhere that respects potatoes.”
Jaehyun sits bolt upright. “NO eggs. I swear to god if I see an egg I will throw myself into the pool.”
“That’s dramatic,” Jiyeon says.
“That’s a promise,” Jaehyun replies solemnly.
Sungho rubs his temples. “Why are you all shouting.”
Taesan laughs “One place get whatever you” want.
Leehan suddenly points accusingly at Taesan. “ONE order?” he repeats, scandalised. “You are literally loaded. Like eat the rich loaded.”
Taesan blinks. “That’s not—”
“We could have multiple orders,” Leehan insists. “This is a capitalist choice you’re making.”
Jiyeon snorts. “He’s right but I hate that he is.”
Sungho grabs the phone next. “No. One order. I’m not dealing with five delivery drivers.”
Jaehyun leans forward dramatically. “This is oppression.”
Taesan laughs under his breath at the chaos he just welcomed“One order. Be reasonable.”
“No,” Jiyeon and Leehan say at the same time.
Jaehyun gestures weakly at the screen. “Add orange juice. I need vitamins or I’ll perish.”
Sungho stares at him. “You had three energy drinks last night.”
“And look where that got me,” Jaehyun gestures at himself again.
Leehan jabs the screen. “Two hashbrowns. Actually—three. One for emotional support.”
Sungho swats his hand away. “You’re not getting three.”
Taesan meets your eyes over the chaos, mouth twitching. He mouths, worth it?
You bite back a laugh and nod.
Jiyeon hands the phone back. “Order before someone adds something illegal.”
Taesan gets your order as-well as his and taps place order just as Leehan yells, “WAIT—did we add sauces?”
Groans erupt, cushions fly, Jaehyun collapses back onto the couch like a fallen hero.
Taesan pockets his phone, victorious. “Food’s coming.”
Cheers break out, Leehan throwing his arms up. “I knew today would be good.”
And as the chaos dissolves into laughter, Taesan’s hand finds yours again—steady, quiet, yours alone in the middle of the mess.
Jiyeon watches the exchange, then slowly shakes her head.
“Nope,” she mutters to herself. “I’m tired. I’m seeing things.”
You smile into your sleeve, letting the noise and warmth of the morning settle around you—whatever this is staying safely, quietly yours.
AN: hiiiiiiii my first fic after a loooooonnggggg time of being retired from writing, i’m sorry if there are any typos 😞😞😞 i have been so busy lately but i’m also thinking of turning this into a ongoing series :).. reqs open !!!
