vro im genuinley gonna die the first ever fic i read and fell in love with got removed (nor can i find the author) i did download the fic already but the author talked abt writing a 4th chapter and now its goneđ«đ«both characters were written perfectly and the plot and built up made so much sense aaaaaaaaaahhh
heyyy can i request some nam-gyu fluffâŠor some maybe angstâŠđđđ
Illumoria
Illumoria- the realization that every person has hidden parts of themselves. a light they rarely share
I DID NAWT FORGET ABOUT YOU ANON! I had this cooking up since you sent it in and it literally just spiraled. This had me struggling in the best way possible. Iâve said before, angst is not my strong suit- I cannot do a cheating trope Iâm too much of a ween. I donât do well writing toxic relationships- again because Iâm too much of a ween and a sucker for a happy endings. So getting this, angst to fluff?! Oh yeah we could work with that. đđ
I worked so, so hard so I could post this!! Today (30th) is my birthday and I worked mad hard this past week to get this finished so I could celebrate with yâall!! I wanted to give yall a wee gift. So enjoy this long ass request that turned into a full on one shot fic. đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶
Warnings: 18+ , drug dealing , slow burn , gun violence , physical violence (not committed by NG or reader) , small fight scene (bad drug deal) , more drug dealing , drug usage , did I say slow burn , mentions of sex , drug usage , roommate trope lmao , Nam-Gyu being a dick , Bonnie/clyde like trope , probably more , read at your own risk
Everyday you ask yourself why you answered a random ad on the web for a roommate. You know at the time it was because the rant was cheap and it was a close commute to your work- but now? Now, you doubt those small benefits make up for what youâre dealing with- your fuck ass roommate.
His name was Nam-Gyu. You didnât accept the offer blindly, you looked him up to make sure he wasnât some serial killer. You found his social media. He didnât post a lot but you found out he was a club promoter at some club, enjoyed weed (based on the many pictures of it in his feed), and was friends with some purple haired rapper. He also wasnât bad looking, he had strong features, longer hair and dark eyes.
So with all that combined and the looming threat of higher rent- you weighed your options and took your chances and responded to the ad.
It started out okay, you would hardly talk to each other. Your days seemed to work out to where when he was leaving for work, you were coming home; you two hardly crossed paths. Every so often when youâd be out late, your schedule shifting, youâd catch him in the kitchen or in the hallway- exchanging nods and glances of acknowledgment.
It started as little things, dishes in the sink that you knew you didnât place or loud music that heâd play when heâd come home from work to shower at 4am- things that drove you mad but you gave him grace, working as a club promoter couldnât be easy.
He also found himself getting irritated by you. He really hoped some laid back dude would answer his ad for a roommate- not some office working princess. You seemed so put together, like you had your life in order. You left at the same time, 6:15am to go to work, at your (what he presumed to be) an office job, and came home around 12am. And from the glimpses heâs caught of your room, you were organized. Maybe he shouldnât hate you for redeeming qualities but the face you were so much better than him pissed him off.
He hated that he could smell your shampoo and body wash hours after you had ended your shower. He loathed how he could hear the switch in your âprofessionalâ voice and your âregularâ voice through the walls when youâd switch from a work call to some other call. He despised how sometimes when you would cook he could smell it from his room (it smelled so fucking good but he would never admit it).
But as the months passed you two were the worst possible roommates. You and him never got along, always butted heads, and seemingly hated each other. You two couldnât be more different from each other. WellâŠhe seemed to hate you. He began to make your life a living hell (so in turn you had to hate him).
When youâd turn the heat down, waking up covered in sweat, heâd bust out of his room-some how hearing you click the thermostat and come out to yell at you about how he pays the most of the utilities (because heâs the one that racks it up the most). You not being a docile person always fought back. And he hated that.
When he would cook in the kitchen he would banish you from not only the kitchen but from the whole common area of the house. Heâd say he hated that youâd watch him like some begging puppy. You could stay out in the living room but he would make it known he hated it with annoying, childish huffs and whispered insults under his breath. So you just resorted to going to your room.
When you would shower he would make it a habit to run his dirty clothes in the laundry, making sure that the shower water would run cold during your time in the bathroom. Nothing could replace the joy the sound of your squeak of surprise from down the hall would bring him when the washer would start- the water in the bathroom turning ice cold.
He hated how your music would clash with his through the walls as you did whatever you did in your room. You hated how he seemed to NEVER put his shoes by the front door where the shoe rack was but drop them somewhere in the middle of the apartment. He despised how you would come home making so much noise, those stupid fucking keychains jingling obnoxiously against your bag as you walked to your room. You hated how him and his stupid friends would stay up till 4-5am blasting shitty rap and railing lines.
It took a couple months for things to bubble overâŠbut eventually you guys would argue. A snide comment on Nam-Gyuâs end here, a bitchy remark on your end there- and suddenly it ends with both your bedroom doors slamming.
There was also one time he stumbled into the apartment on something, what it was you never found out, but, he busted through the door- damn near taking it off the hinges. You remembered you nearly jumped out of your skin at the time, practically choking on the cup noodles you were eating in the kitchen. âYou know how to use a door right?â You harmlessly joke, it was lightheartedâŠokay, maybe it was definitely sarcastic and ended with a scoff but it wasnât hostile!
âWho the fuck are you talking to, bitch?â He snarls at you from the door as he slams it shut. The force vibrates the apartment, you can hear the dishes clanking in the cabinets. Your eyebrows furrow, immediately youâre shifting into a person that heâs never seen- if he was the tiniest bit more sober he might have been thrown off.
âThe fuck is your issue?!â Youâre seething, putting your noodles down and coming out of the kitchen striding across the living room to face him properly. When youâre closer to him you realize that heâs fucked up, not just drunk or weed highâŠ.no heâs on harder shit. You knew he smoked weed, hell on the rare occasion you two were docile and cordial, youâve even smoked on the balcony together. You also knew he wasnât impartial to pills or even doing lines, youâve seen the remnants though youâve never seen him do it. But this- this was something different.
âMy issues is I have to come home to a raging cunt of a roommate every god damn night.â He says lowly, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table and kicking off his shoes. He kicks them off so hard heâs denting the wall by the floor.
âWoah, woah.â Youâre hissing lowly, stalking up to him. Heâs so far gone but heâs surprised youâre standing up to him, getting in his face and not shying away. For some reason that pisses him off more. âYouâre the one who put the fucking ad out because you needed help with rent.â You growl, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.
Maybe if he was the least bit fucking blitzed he would have asked you about your split eyebrow and bruised knuckles but he genuinely couldnât see straight. âOkay and? Didnât expect to get a smartass girl answering the ad.â He says shoving his way past you and into the kitchen. When he passes by you can see a bright red spot on his inner arm, near his elbow. Your suspicious are confirmed. Your eyes are widening, and your mouth hangs open a bit. Sure he was not the best person, but you knew his job and you knew the shit he had to do to keep it and even make rent (as much as he tried to act mysterious and keep his life hidden).
You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. âYou sure you need that? Maybe you should get some sleep..â you say, your tone lighter- youâre not even trying to continue the argument- just trying to make sure heâs okay. You have no time to react before heâs throwing the bottle to the ground in a fit of rage. It shatters on the tile of the kitchen, the foamy liquid spreading across the laminate.
You jump, the action startling you. It was nowhere near you, youâre across the house still, near the entrance, but you have never seen him like this. âI am I grown fucking man. I donât need my roommate being my fucking mommy.â
You look at him for a moment, just shocked and unsure of what to say. When you finally find your words, all you can muster is a âGo fuck yourself.â Youâre throwing your hands up and walking to your room. Your door slams behind you, rattling the dishes in the cabinets like they did when he entered the apartment. This time he jumps, the sound and vibration somewhat snapping him out of his drug induced haze.
When you wake up in the morning to go to work, his room door is closed, signaling heâs home and likely asleep. You want to be angry and just leave, walk out the front door and just go to work- but you canât. You have to at least check on him. So you tip toe over to his door and turn the knob, pushing it open.
Heâs sprawled out on his bed, still in the clothes that he came home in- but heâs snoring. Heâs breathing. Heâs alive. You notice how his face twitches and he turns away from the door, the extra light from the hallway flooding into his room and annoying his sleeping self. Content with seeing heâs at least alive, you slowly close the door back.
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding and continue down the hallway to the kitchen. The beer bottle shards and the beer was cleaned up on the floor, the evidence of his outburst nowhere to be found. At least he cleaned up after himself.
When he was certain you left for your little office job for the day, Nam-gyu snuck out of his bedroom. He felt like death personified. His head hurt, the room was spinning every time he took a step and he was certain that if he looked in one place for too long whatever he was looking at would start to moveâŠ.whatever fucking drug he did he was not doing it again.
He admittedly didnât want to do itâŠbut his job was riding on it. The look of his boss, the one telling him to take the offer from the VIP or else his position would be cut, was enough to make him do it. The âbonusâ was not only a surprise (he hardly ever got something âextraââŠhe guessed his boss became more generous on whatever the fuck he took) it wasnât nearly enough compensation for what he went throughâŠ.
For what he made you go through.
It was just enough to cover his rent for the month, barely and it kept him his jobâŠthatâs how much it cost him to do some drug he had no idea what it was. Wow, stand up person he was. Stumbling, he makes it to the kitchen, hands slamming against the cabinets desperately to open it and get a glass for water. When he grabs the glass and slumps over the kitchen sink the trash can is in his direction field of view. He can see the shards of the bottle he broke. The amber stained glass hard to miss against the black plastic of the trash bag.
He groans, his brain pounding has memories of the night prior rush back to memory. He hardly remembers coming back out late in the middle of the night, rather early in the day- before you even got up for work- to clean up the mess. He knew he wasnât the best roommate, hellâŠhe wasnât the best personâŠbut whatever came over him that night; you didnât deserve that.
And who could forget the time, not even a week after the huge fight you two had- a knock sounds at your closed bedroom door late at night. You know only Nam-gyu could be the one knocking at this hour, the apartment is locked up and he definitely didnât have anyone over, but, it confuses you as to why. He never comes to you for anything.
Itâs three soft knocks, like Nam-Gyu is testing to see if youâre awake. You never slept good, always in and out of sleep. So when your half-asleep body focuses in on the soft sound, youâre awake immediately. You sit up in bed and look towards your door. Maybe you dreamt it? Fuck, maybe that goodnight blunt kicked your ass more than you thought it did.
One more soft knock- like heâs testing to really make sure you were asleep if you werenât going to answer. Nam-Gyu sighs. Heâs so glad you didnât answer- you were asleep. He begins to turn on his heels about to get on with his scheduled meeting.
The creak of the door knob makes his body turn to ice. He freezes awkwardly, half turned away from the door. Heâs so still, like a kid that thinks if they are completely frozen, theyâre invisible.
âNam-gyu?â Your tired voice cuts through the still air of the apartment like a knife. OkayâŠ.so looks like freezing in place didnât work.
Nam-gyu turns on his heels to face you again, an almost bashful look on his face as his dark eyes meet yours in the hallway. He coughs, trying to fix his dry throat to no avail, âh-heyâŠuhâŠthought you were asleepâŠâ
His words fumble out of his mouth in choked, embarrassed syllables. His tone is hushed, maybe if he talks low enough youâll think youâre dreaming. He wants to kick himself when he realizes how pathetic his words come out. He can even see the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion and shock as you try and wake yourself up more.
âIâŠwell I was.â Nam-Gyu cringes at your response. Of course he ruined your sleep by knocking. He made his situation so much harder. âYeahâŠsorry about thatâŠâ He drawls out.
Nam-gyu coughs awkwardly âSoâŠumâŠIâm gonna have someone over-â You immediately scoff, âDude, I donât careâŠget your dick wet. You donât have to tell me about it.â You say surprised, thatâs the only reason you can think heâs coming to tell you that, a âhey stay the fuck in your room Iâm trying to get laidâ thing. Youâve lived with him for months and heâs never done thisâŠcome to think about it youâre not sure if heâs ever brought a girl homeâŠbut this is strange.
Nam-gyu seems to falter and look at you dumbly. He shakes his head violently, hands thrown up dismissively, âN-no itâs not like that. JustâŠstay in your room and try not to make too much noise mâkay?â
His voice is jittery and anxious but itâs also eerily calm- like whatever he was about to deal with was something heâs done time and time again. âUhhhâŠ.yeahâŠsureâŠâ You nod, still half asleep and delirious. âWhaâŠwhat is going on?â You mumble, eyebrows knitted together as you try to stare at him in the dark hallway.
He seems to realize how anxious he appears, he fixes his posture and changes his tone. Clearing his throat he speaks, âNone of your business, just stay the fuck in your room okay.â He spits, glaring at you. His hand brushes past your waist, nudging you out of the way of the door. He grabs your door knob and slams the door shut.
Fumbling backwards into your room you stare at your closed door. Did he seriously just slam your door? Slam it backwards?! What the fuck was going on.
You obviously end up staying awake, ear pressed to your closed door as you try your best to hear anything that happens outside your room. You can hear a knock at the door and Nam-Gyu walking down the hallway, away from your door.
You hear the telltale sound of the deadbolt on the front door unlocking, the creak of the door opening, and muffled introductions being made and then the door shutting.
âYeah manâŠI told you that I was getting the money I swear, just a couple hundred behind.â Nam-gyuâs voice is hushed and uneasy- you can tell heâs trying to keep whatever was going on, on the down low. He didnât want you to hear.
Youâre nosy though.
You shift more, nearly trying to make your face melt through the wood of your bedroom door. âYou sure didnât seem so scared when you were borrowing the 6 bands.â
The voice that answers Nam-Gyu is rough, itâs louder, obviously not caring of the idea of âquietâ. âIâm fucking serious, if you donât have the money Iâm going to fucking-â
âOkay okay! Jesus fucking Christ, just be quiet will you. I have a fucking-â Nam-Gyu cuts himself off, he doesnât want to tell this loan shark he has a roommate- just someone else to get involved with his bullshit. Nam-gyu chocks it up to him being strategic, he doesnât need anyone else meddling in his affairs- but deep down he knows itâs to protect you. The last thing he needs to see is your pretty face hung over him while he gets the shit beat out of him.
âI have fucking neighbors. Walls are thin. You wouldnât want them hearing this would you.â Nam-Gyu awkwardly corrects himself, hoping, praying, that this intruder wouldnât question him further about his awkward grammar.
âYou said you would have the moneyâ this time, the unknown voice is matching Nam-gyuâs in volume.
Nam-gyuâs hushed panicked voice cuts off the other, unfamiliar voice, âI donât have the money okayâŠâ a sharp breath rings through the apartment, like heâs waiting to get hit for saying the truth. Moments pass with no sign of altercation, Nam-gyu lets out a breath, âI promise I will get it to you end of the month, with interest even!â He says, pleading with the stranger in your home.
âEnd of the month. 40% interest. All paid in cash.â
You assume Nam-Gyu gives some kind of nod of affirmation or something silent to show he agreed because the stranger scoffs and lets out a gruff âgoodâ.
âBut youâre also so fucking stupid if you think Iâm leaving empty handed.â
Your breath hitches, it all happens so fast- you hear a sharp smack, a large thud against the wall then the telltale sign of a gun cocking.
Your hand hovers over the door, getting ready to say fuck it and deal with whatever the fuck was going on inside the apartment you paid rent for, but the scuffle subsides just as soon as it started. You hear footsteps stomping away. Presumably Nam-gyuâs footsteps following. Then the front door closing and locking. Stepping back from your bedroom door you let out a shaky breath, hand still hovering over the door knob as if going out there would do anything.
Nam-gyuâs bedroom door slamming shut, vibrating your bedroom walls answers any conflicting thoughts you had- heâs in his room so it only made sense for you to stay in yours.
The day after, you could see Nam-gyu had a busted lip. You wanted to say nothing about it- youâve lived with him for long enough, you know he was not the type to want to be âchecked onâ. You really did try, but the really sketchy random man that Nam-Gyu let into your apartment, with a gun, had seemingly beat him up- you had to ask.
At an odd time in the week, when both of you happened to cross paths in the kitchen, you genuinely had no ability to stop yourself. Up close you could see not only was his lip busted, his cheek and temple were bruised.
âDid you get fucking pistol whipped!?â The words fall out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. Youâre slamming your cup noodles on the counter and gawking at his face.
Nam-gyuâs eye visibly twitches at your words, his hands that were washing the bowl he just used, clench around the cheap plastic- warping and bending the material. âMind your fucking business.â He shakes his head, the hair that was once tucked behind his ears falls over his face, shielding the bruises from your point of view.
His response comes through clenched teeth, like heâs holding himself back- giving you the benefit of the doubt- maybe youâll listen and mind your own like he wanted.
âMind my business?!?â You scoff, whipping your head to the side to face him. âYou have any idea how fucking sketchy that was last night?! You coming to tell me to stay in my room like some scared deer? I fucking heard a pistol cocking, and now I see you messed up and bruised?!â
The comparison of him to a scared deer makes Nam-Gyu practically throw the dish back into the sink, hands coming to grasp at the counter. âI told you to mind your business. Seriously, I donât need you up my ass. Itâs my fucking job. I donât need you worrying about me.â When he finishes speaking, he furrows his eyebrows, how the hell did you know the distinct sound of a gun cocking?
âOkay, your busted fucking face aside,â Nam-Gyu cringes at your words, you can see the insult heâs getting ready to throw back at you but you speak again, âI pay rent here too, and you let in some stranger who very obviously had a gun and who may or may not have pistol whipped you.â
That seemed to be all Nam-Gyu could take, and it wasnât even much, you just seemed to set him off. âYou answered the fucking ad. You donât like it? Move the fuck out, I genuinely donât care, it would be better with you not here. You have no idea what itâs like to do what I do, keep your mouth shut and let me do my damn job or pack your shit.â
With that heâs storming away. Youâre left there in the kitchen, mouth hung open as youâre trying to process the interaction you just had.
Neither of you mentioned that night in the days and months to come, you both acted like it never happened.
The tension between you two didnât change one bit. Since then his view on you seemed to change. He seemed to hate you more than he did before- so in turn you hated him more.
He seemed to think you were some prissy âbetter than youâ girl. He remembered he came to that conclusion rather quick after that one night. It all happened one day after you came home from work. It was the first time he got any idea of your work life. Your schedules often differed so he hardly ever saw you. And when he did you pissed him off too much for him to care about your intricacies.
You worked a boring office job that had you practically pulling your hair out but you had to dress all formal. It was probably fancy and paid well. Hell, you probably have gone on company vacations all expenses paid on the regularâŠ.thatâs what Nam-Gyu believed you did.
There was one night, you came home late, talking on the phone with your boss about some analytics and statistics for the company, getting rather annoyed that you still have to deal with his even on your off time. Youâre spouting words he canât even conceptualize a definition of and practically throwing your winter jacket on the hook. It was hard enough that the metal of the rack vibrates and makes a ringing sound.
He watched as you kicked off your heels in the entry way and shrugged off your blazer off. You didnât even realize Nam-Gyu was in the living room right in front of the door, frozen with his nose hovering over a fresh line of white powder that laid on the coffee table. You end the phone call and turn around. When you see him you both look at each other wide eyed. You could see the way his eyes narrowed even so slightly. You didnât have the capacity to deal with this situation so recent into your tenure as roommates and youâre far too tired. Also, who were you to judge- you werenât a saint yourself. So you quickly saunter off to your room like an uneasy fawn in your dress pants and silk blouse, blazer hungover your shoulder.
Youâre running off to your room to avoid a fight with him like normal, you never stay to talk with him anyways! Quite frankly, he was miserable to be around. He was a dick and had little to no people skills. But when you got off the horrendous phone call with your boss and walk into your apartment to see your roommate railing blow off your coffee tableâŠ.you just want to go to bed and crack open the fresh pack of weed gummies you got- hoping to relax after a long day.
But he takes your hasty and awkward departure as you thought you were better than him. Such a pretty, innocent thing all dressed up in expensive clothes (they were thrifted) and heels- coming back to the apartment from a cute office job where youâre probably the heartthrob of the office making a comfortable living (you werenât and you were barely scraping by)- to see him, a lowlife club promoter who gets paid minimum wage, who can hardly pay his share of the rent, railing lines off the coffee table you bought for the living room. You also saw him come home that one night when he tried the new injectable drug for a bit of extra cash at the clubâŠ.Yeah, you definitely think youâre so much better than him. You had one over him, he knew little to nothing about you and yet you just saw him dealing with a huge vice of his on more than one occasionâŠ.yeah, no, he didnât like that. It just made him hate you more.
The thing was, you werenât the overly perfect, prissy, princess image that he crafted his mind- you were far from it. Admittedly the office job was a front, it paid like shit and it was at some sleazy loan shark firm, you were just forced to dress in overly formal attire to look more âinviting and appealingâ to the unsuspecting souls who walked in the doorâŠit was a front for your real source of income. Drug dealing. That was what you hid from him. He seemed to have no idea about your side hustle, no matter how many times youâve come home beat up and bruised after you were jumped or were involved in a deal gone bad- he was none the wiser.
You werenât proud of it and you never intended to get involved with that scene but one too many months of not having enough rent or getting evicted when you were too behind on payments; you had to do something. The opportunity fell in your hand when you went out one night with a group of friends to some shady club.
Admittedly, you were the odd one of the group, you werenât too keen on dancing on random men like your friends were, you were side eyeing any man that tried to get near you and you looked annoyed you were even there (you were, you wanted to go home), and you didnât buy any of the overpriced drinks from the bar, and you had a neon âguestâ band meaning you didnât even pay the cover to get in; someone else did- so maybe thatâs why your boss scouted you out. You seemed like you could handle your own- you could. You werenât a violent person but you were always down to fight if it got down to it. Youâd protect your friends and throw a strategic punch square in a grown mans jaw if you needed to. And you were down on your luck, you needed money.
So when you left the bar, your friendâs long gone; he approached you. Of course, at first you were uneasy by a grown man who appeared to be in his 50âs approaching you. But with some slick talk, speaking to you like a wise Italian grandfather with a fortune to pass down to you, and a rough estimate of what you could be making- you accepted the job. Making drug runs for this man and his ring, dealing to people that he didnât feel like going to or dealing with. Of course it was shitty, dangerous workâŠbut you were desperate. You wanted to get enough to allow you to quit your other job, get enough to keep you steady for a bit while you find better workâŠ..that was also 4 years ago.
Nam-gyu knew none of that though, it wasnât exactly something you were proud of. You most certainly werenât going to tell him either. Doing the drugs and being the dealer are two different thingsâŠas much as you despised what you were doing, you made enough money to keep you afloat and thatâs all that you cared about for the time being. You knew the guys you worked for werenât lacing the stuff you sold so it made you feel a little betterâŠyou still didnât like doing it. But..It was better than where you were. So you continued to do it.
Nam-Gyu was always far too drunk, high, sleep deprived, or a combination of all three to ever notice the black eye you had spontaneously gotten or the bruised and split knuckles you came home with far too often. It was not an easy job. You were intertwined with some shady people, directed to go off to bad places late at night by yourself- you had to defend yourself. And you knew how to do it well! Thatâs what kept you alive and kept you in business.
It was a side of you that you only felt shame for, a dirty secret that was quite literally the only thing that could keep you afloat in this economy. That should say something in itself, insight some sort of worldwide change to make it where you werenât driven to do this, it wasnât some dream land though; it was real life.
Recently, your boss had given you the details on a couple deals that could set you up for a long while. Two deals that could even get you out of the drug dealing ring for good! Of course, the bigger the deal the more dangerous and the more riskyâŠ.however, the higher reward was far too perfect to pass up.
When your boss texted you with a location and a time- you responded promptly. After putting on some jeans, a tight fitted top and a jacket, youâre headed out the door and hauling a taxi to get to where you were told to be. Club Pentagon.
You were directed by your boss through text message to use a fake name once in the club, walk to the back of the club to the VIP rooms, give the fake name and you would be led to the buyer. Off rip, you were warned to keep your sarcasm to a minimum, to be polite and kiss ass- this was a big deal that your boss could not lose. The price of the product was firm, it always has been, but you knew the game- make them think they can bargain or are already get a bargain to get in good with the clientele.
Wanting the pay out, the money that could get you out of this job and the shitty office job you have- you comply, enter into the club, and maneuver your way to the back of the club. The VIP area was lit up by a bright neon sign that nearly made you have a headache. You walk over to the attendant standing at the lux velvet ropes that separated you from a dimly lit hallway lined with multiple doors on either side.
âName?â The attendant says looking down at you with a skeptical look. Youâre thankful you took the couple minutes to remember the fake name your boss gave you because the man behind the velvet ropes that held the list of names was a hulking older man who was downright terrifying to look at. You relay the fake name expertly like it was the name you were given at birth.
The bouncer looks over the list he has in his hands, finds the name you relayed and nods. âAlright, you can follow me.â The bouncerâs demeanor changed, heâs more serious- scrutinizing you and looking you up and down with a threatening stare. When he turns to lead you down the dim hallway he makes a show of lifting his shirt up on his hip to flash the shiny gun thatâs holstered there.
You swallow thickly, itâs nothing you havenât done before but the proper place of the deal makes you uneasy. It isnât an open area in the middle of the street, it isnât some rundown house where you know the individuals who live there have nothing but shitty knives- this is the big deal.
Step after step down the hallway, more armed men join you in a makeshift entourage that escorts you down this back hallway of the club. You begin to wonder if youâre even in the same building- turn after turn youâre believing that thereâs no way this hallway could possibly be attached to the club.
Even if you wanted to stop- to turn back now the group of armed club workers prevent you from turning around, theyâre so close to you that even if you side step a centimeter off, youâre bumping into one of them and being shoulder checked back in line.
After what seems like forever, youâre brought to a room- on either side of the closed door another guard. Youâre led into the small room, it was very obviously a room used for private dances.
You werenât graced with a stripper, you were met with multiple men seated on a sofa with even more bodyguards around them. Seated in the middle of the couch was a man who looked to be the buyer- expensive suit, gaudy chains and rings layered with diamond and gemstones that are worth more than 6 months rent for one crystal that inlays the jewelry.
Straightening your posture and putting on a brave face, wanting nothing more than to get this deal over with so you can get your cut of the money, you nod politely to the man.
âDidnât think youâd be the one heâd send.â The man says, eyeing you up and down like youâre a meal ready to be eaten- you hate it.
âYou told him to send his best man for the deal, here I am.â You say simply, keeping your hands stuffed in your jacket pocket to hide your trembling fingers. Youâve done hundreds of deals, thousands even, but this was so much different. This was the big league. This was large amounts of high priced substances going from one kingpin to another.
With a scoff, the man motions to a brief case laid on the table, one of the guards opens the case with a click. Bundles of money sit in the briefcase, pressed and pristine. The client, the man who quite literally holds your life in his hands at the moment, nods to you.
Taking a step forward, you eye the cash, âthatâs not what was agreed upon.â Itâs easy to tell, you know what this large amount is supposed to look like, and what was in this small briefcase was not it. You look back up to the man, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
âAhhh, smart one.â He says mockingly, talking down on you with an evil undertone. âWho would have thought.â He jokes, elbowing the people next to him to try and get them in on the shitty joke he was making. âThe rest of the money should be coming shortlyâŠwhat kind of man would have this much money readily available, darling.â
The name makes you cringe, the whole interaction is making you feel more uneasy by the second.
The room shifts when the door opens, everyone standing to attention, âhereâs the money boss.â
Your eyes widen, you can only see the back of the person as they walk in that room- but you know that voice. And when the person who entered turns, backpack slung over the shoulder. You know youâre fucked.
Nam-Gyu.
He seems just as shocked, if not more than you to see you out of all people standing in the room for one of the biggest drug deals his boss was about to complete. He honestly thinks heâs hallucinating.
The views you two had of each other collapse in on themselves like exploding stars. Itâs so fast and violent that you feel like you might throw up. Sure you knew Nam-Gyu wasnât the greatest guy, you knew he had to work somewhere that was open overnights- but you would have never thought he would be working at the club and for the sleazy, shitty, man youâre doing business with. And Nam-Gyu? Well he was fucking dumbfounded. He saw you as some holier than thou office worker who was early to rise early to bed. He thought you were some good girl who would never end up in a place like this.
Yet here you both were.
âIs there a problem?â The boss says, glaring at Nam-Gyu who was paused by the doorway eyeing you. He shakes his head, itâs sporadic and anxious like heâs shaking his own surprise out of his head. âUh no, sorry not at all.â Nam-Gyu responds, hand anxiously gripping at the strap of the backpack that was slung over his shoulder.
The big boss laughs, motioning Nam-Gyu over and taking the backpack from him. âJust partied too hard, hm?! Thatâs what I like to hear!â
Nam-Gyu laughs, itâs so uneasy and awkward, no one but you seems to notice. His wide eyes stay trained on you as he moves within the room. Like he was told prior to the deal, he takes his place behind the couch.
He tries hard to get rid of the pit thatâs forming in his stomach. Thereâs no fucking way that you were the dealer in this big deal that his boss was talking about for months. The one he knows was a set-up, he was part of the planning!!
Take the backpack, you check the money, and while youâre busy- head down in the cheap bag to count your earnings, the one guard in the back left corner was supposed to take you out. Clean and simple. Something Nam-Gyu had been involved in countless of times, something he had no issue with doing. Fuck, he was the one that was tasked with getting rid of the fucking corpses! He should be completely fine and locked in as Thanos would say.
He oddly starts thinking of Thanos then, about the many times heâs come over and asked about Nam-Gyuâs âsexy lil roommateâ. He hated when Thanos would call you that, he told himself that it was just him being respectful- Thanos shouldnât be talking to you like thatâŠ.but then again when has Nam-Gyu ever cared about being respectful. Thanos would always tell Nam-Gyu that he should make a move, that he obviously has a crush on you. Nam-Gyu would always deny it, brushing him off and inevitably insulting you to make his point.
But nowâŠ.Thanos assertions were starting to make senseâŠthe longer he spends in this room, knowing that you would take the place of whatever unknown corpseâŠyeah, heâs going to fucking throw up.
It probably wasnât a good idea for him to take a bunch of drugs before this either- to his defense he didnât fucking think it was going to be you in this deal!! He normally could go into this crossfaded and be completely fine but now the sweat on his forehead gets worse and heâs genuinely trying to not vomit.
âWell alright then,â Nam-Gyuâs bossâs voice brings him out from the memory riddled haze he was in, his worried eyes look over to you then to his boss, âAs you can see, hereâs the rest of the money.â Nam-Gyuâs boss finishes, grabbing the backpack and tossing is unceremoniously to your feet.
You quirk up an eyebrow and scoff, âyouâre going to treat me like a dog? I have the deal of a life time for you and youâre treating me like this?â You look back down at the bag, making a show of not moving an inch to pick it up. âYour mother ever teach you manners?â
Nam-Gyu doesnât know whether to be turned on at your boldness in such a situation or fear for your life- he knows the people he works for all too well. They donât take kindly to people talking back.
âOooohh~ feisty. Seems like he picked a good one.â
Nam-Gyu lets out a shuddering breath, thankful that his boss seemed to enjoy your attitude and are getting some sort of praise from his boss. He knows whatâs coming, the inevitable plan that will sour the deal but leave the boss of the club with money back in his pocket and some free drugs.
With a raise of one singular finger, the boss motions for one of the guards to pick up the backpack. The large man crosses the room and with an outstretched hand, holds the bag out to you.
You take it, nodding in thanks with a small smirk quirked up at the corners of your lips. âMuch better, thank you.â Your fingers fiddle with the zippers of the backpack. Placing a strap of the backpack over one arm, you slide the duffle bag you had off your shoulder and drop it to the table.
You zip it open effortlessly, hovering close by it as you show off the copious amounts of drugs inside. âAll here, like you ordered. If you sell this without issue then my boss said he has no problem continuing business.â
Nam-Gyuâs boss inspects the substances packaged in various bags and nods. âLooks good to me, why donât ya make sure thatâs a good enough payout for ya boss there sweetheart.â
When you scoff and go to open the zipper of the bag, Nam-Gyu decides he canât watch what was to come. He canât watch you die over some fuck ass drug deal.
He moves quickly, shoulder checking the guard, his coworker, that stood next to him and on holsters the gun hanging on the manâs thigh. With one fluid moment, heâs raising his arm and aiming at the guard in the room that he knew was tasked to kill you.
A crack rips through the room, everyone ducking and beginning to become frantic. Nam-Gyuâs intended target is struck in the leg and drops to the ground.
Instantly the room turns into chaos, the men on the couch hold up right and unholster their weapons. You get pulled into a headlock, gun to your temple as they try to keep you as some sort of hostage for negotiation. Who theyâd negotiate with? All you knew was whoever it was on the receiving end of that bargain would most likely let you die over some drugs.
With fluidity that takes your captor off guard, youâre showing his stomach, forcing him back and yanking his own fire arm from his hand. You have no time to celebrate, youâre running back and trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. Nam-Gyu shot one of his own men? Why the fuck would he do that?!! You genuinely have no time to figure it out in this moment.
Bodies are clashing together, fists are flying, thereâs definitely blood on the floor and bullets are ricocheting off the walls. At this point itâs so chaotic youâre almost 100% positive some of the guards in the room got confused and have started fighting people on their side. Your eyes land on the door you walked into the room from, you could absolutely make it if you booked it hard enough. But then you see the money that litters the floor- spilled from the backpack that lays on the ground- lost to the chaos of the room.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you bolt to the bag. Sliding on the floor youâre quickly scooping up stray bills into the bag and hauling it over your shoulder. Whipping your head to the door, you plot your escape. Moving to a squatting position youâre propelling yourself upwards and breaking into a sprint.
One stride. Two. Three. Youâre nearly there, you can almost reach out to the doorknob.
Pain erupts from the side of your skull, youâre plummeting down to the floor before you can even look at whatever, or rather whoever just hit you. A large weight crushes your stomach, making it hard to breathe. Your vision is hazy and it burns to open your eyes but you have to keep going.
The boss, Nam-Gyuâs boss, the big wig who was supposed to receive the drugs you were ordered to sell is on top of you, one hand on your sternum and the other raised in a fist. You struggle, wiggling your body to try and get him off of you but the weight of a grown man is much more than you hoped for.
The first hit comes down hard, you immediately taste blood and your mind is filled with static. Oddly enough, the only thought that forms is one of Nam-Gyu. He was in the room, started the gunfire and is still probably fighting. You hoped that he got out, you didnât know whyâŠhe was a complete dick to you most times, but you just hoped he was out of this shit show- alive.
You think you may have passed out, maybe gotten a few more hits from the man who had you pinned, youâre not too sure. Your eyes are forced open when someone is practically ripping you from the ground.
âNuh-uh, youâre not dying on me.â The second Nam-Gyuâs voice fills your ears, you feel like youâve gotten a second win. You laugh weakly and fall into his arms, gunshots still ringing out in the room. âCâmon!â Nam-Gyu taps lightly at your cheek, waking you up more. âYou can fall on me and be all weak later, we gotta get the fuck on!â
ââM not weak.â You mumble out, standing up straight and wiping the blood from your lip. Nam-Gyu groans and yanks you by your wrist, âYeah, I know. You definitely arenât,â he says, voice laced with a weird admiration. He yanks you quickly, you fall instep with him as he ducks and weaves you through people jumping to get you.
You two practically fall through the door, the wood splintering as you barrel out into the dimly lit hallway.
Nam-Gyu has your wrist in an iron grip as heâs pulling you out of the room and down the corridors you came from. He knows if he can at least get you two to the main part of the club- theyâll have to stop shooting. He hopes.
You fumble over your steps as you try to get a hold of the situation, but the way Nam-Gyu is pulling you, you have no option but to keep up with him. Bullets are whizzing past you and each one that flys by, youâre thanking whatever part of the universe that is listing for your pursuers shitty aim.
âCâmon, keep the fuck up.â Nam-Gyu shouts back to you, his voice laced with an anger he truly had no reason to harbor, âtheyâve fucking leveled business for less than a shitty drug deal, weâve got to fucking go!â
âMotherfucker! Iâm trying! Itâs not my fault youâre 80% legs. Iâm well aware that if we stop running weâre going to get shot!â You yell back, way too sarcastic given your situation. If this wasnât life or death, Nam-Gyu was sure that he would have laughed at your insult.
Youâre so lucky he is guiding you, the more you turn down identical hallways, the more youâre not sure where you even are. Youâre about to ask if he has any sort of plan when you feel a burning sensation blooming across your shoulder, âShit-!â
Trying the best you can, you turn to look, blood has started to stain your skin but you can tell itâs not deep, a graze at best- but too close for your liking. âNam-Gyu! You gotta plan?! Theyâre fuckinâ gaining on us hereâŠand oh my fucking god!! Are those fucking attack dogs?!â
Your words turn into a desperate tone when you turn back to see some of the men on your trail stop and begin to mess with large collars on three large dogs. The canines were growling and snarling, foaming at the mouth and already jumping at the chance to chase you two like prey.
âFuckfuckfuck!â Nam-Gyu mutters to himself, this really couldnât get any worse. Theyâve nearly almost hit you, he knows heâs been grazed by the hot metal of a bullet too, and now the fucking dogs- heâs not even sure if you two could make it.
Heâs quickly shaking his head of the thought, âJust keep fucking running!â
And you do.
After what seems like too long you and Nam-Gyu practically barrel onto the dance floor of the club. Almost immediately as your feet hit the floor of the main area, the gunfire in your direction ceases. With you two no longer in line of sight and meddling in a sea of club goers, your pursuers also donât release the attack dogs. Thereâs no way youâre out of the clear though, they still had bouncers on your ass. You donât falter, Nam-gyu keeps pulling you through the sea of people.
Nam-Gyu practically shoulder checks the front door open, hand still gripped tight around your wrist and pulling you along with him.
When the night breeze hits you, youâre taking the biggest breath in possible. You want to stop running, your feet are so sore and your body is so tired. Without the threat of being shot, youâre realizing just how bad you got injured within the fight in the room the deal was in. Your head is spinning and your vision is starting to get blurry the longer you keep running.
He doesnât know why he does it, he should just leave you there on the sidewalk, but he canât. Something in him is screaming at him to protect you, to take care of you. Itâs a split second decision, one that would definitely help both of you in the clear- he yanks you by the wrist closer to him and hauls your tired form onto his back.
You have no energy to protest, the second your feet leave the concrete and youâre weightless, your head is dropping to his shoulder and your eyes are squeezing shut to try and fight off the migraine thatâs beginning to form.
Youâre woken up from a micro-sleep that you didnât even realize you had taken when youâre placed down into the seat of a car. Youâre jolting awake instantly, not even realizing where you were or who you were with before you fell asleep. Youâre waking up about to fight whoever it was that had you in their car.
âHey, easy! Just trying to get you buckled inâŠâ
Nam-Gyuâs voice makes you settle, your head turning to look outside the door to the individual who was now leaning over and buckling you in the car. Your throat is far too dry to speak, youâre blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights. Itâs cute he thinks. He wants to admire you for a moment but he soon hears the back door of the club slam open.
Not taking any chances, he slams the passenger door and is hopping into the drivers seat in under 10 seconds. A shrill screech comes from the tires as you two peel out of the parking lot.
The ride home is silent, yet you could cut the tension with a knife. Itâs so tangible youâre afraid it might suffocate you. You try your best not to look over into the drivers seat where you know Nam-Gyu was seated, probably white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your throat is dry, your body is sore, and youâre positive you can taste blood.
The drive back to your shared apartment was horrible, your anxiety stayed through the roof and neither of you spoke a single word. The only sound that resounded throughout the car was the dull hum of the AC and Nam-Gyu gritting his teeth.
He practically spins out when he pulls into the driveway; wheels skidding on the concrete of the driveway in a shrill screech. You want to at least thank him for giving you a ride back (even if he or the situation yall were in didnât give you much of an option), but Nam-gyu is shifting the car into park and exiting the vehicle quickly. You jump when he slams the door, walking up to the front door without so much as looking back at you.
You scramble to follow him, barely catching the front door with your palm as he walks inside. Quickly, you close and lock the door behind you- dead bolting all the locks and checking them over and over- out of habit or anxiety about one of the people you two just beat and robbed blind coming after you- you werenât sure. Swallowing thickly, back against the front door as if it was about to be kicked in, you open your mouth to speak. âLook I didnât mean-â
âShut up. Just sit down.â
You shut your mouth and glare at Nam-Gyuâs back as he walks to a cabinet in your kitchen, where the first aid kit was. âWe need to talk-â
âNot right now we donât. Sit the fuck down.â Nam-gyu whips his head back to face you, leaning over the counter with a disheveled look across his bruised face. âYouâre fucking bleeding.â
Nam-gyu simply states, walking back over to where you stood speechless. He harshly shoves your shoulder, snapping you out of your stupefied trance and pushing you down to a seating position onto the couch behind you.
He doesnât give you a moment to protest or even a moment to breathe, heâs hovering over you and grabbing your chin in his hand. Tilting your face every which way possible, he examines the extent of your injuries with a dejected look.
âYou donât look any better.â
He canât help it, your statement makes him let out a dry laugh, itâs quiet and quick, but a laugh not the less. âYou donât know when to stop talking.â Nam-gyu says gruffly as he begins to clean up your wounds.
âI didnât need your help I had it coveredâŠIâve done shit like this before you know.â Nam-gyu pauses, looking at you like you have three heads and just told him the sky was green- you have done something like that before?!
It made sense now that he thought about it, you wouldnât have even been the one to come on behalf of the drug seller if you didnât have some sort of credibility. The longer he thinks about it, the more heâs pissed. How did he miss this seemingly huge thing about you?! You, out of all people, a fucking drug dealer?! You willingly got into the business when you could have had other options (you didnât) and put yourself into this danger.
He didnât know why but the thought made him physically ill- and in change it made him even madder. Why the fuck did he even care?!? He shouldnât care, you were just his pretty roommate he used to get a break on the rent. You were the prissy girl who would come home and glare at him for smoking in the apartment (you were never glaring, you were just coming home high yourself).
Yet, here he was, just fucking lost his job to save you like some story book hero and now patching you up. This wasnât like him and that alone made him uneasy. But each time his hand brushed the cool rag against your split lip with you looking up at him with a cute little glare, his heart felt like it was going to explode.
He scoffs, a pathetic attempt of a response as he breaks himself out of the haze he was in. His fingers work quickly, as if touching you was physically burning him. Nam-gyu throws the cool rag down and reaches to the first aid kit, fishing out a few bandages.
When his fingers graze against your scalp, where you know youâre bleeding from, you suck in a sharp breath. Yes, it stings, but itâs nothing you havenât dealt with before. Itâs his closeness.
Nam-Gyu is leaned over you, one hand holding the top of your head- keeping you still- fingers threaded into your hair to part it away from the wound. The other hand dances along the gash and works diligently to clean you up. Itâs the softness of his touches, the way heâs so careful with you.
And when you look up finally, catching the way he looks- youâre a goner. He looks at the wound like itâs all his fault, like he had some obligation to protect you and he failed. It was odd, you never had someone dote on you like this, it made it all the more weird to have Nam-Gyu out of all people show you this kindness.
Feeling your intense stare on him, Nam-gyu looks down. When he sees you looking up at him, he begins to over heat. Was it this hot when you two first got back?! Fuck, you do look so pretty like this..
You watch as he bites the corner of his bottom lip, ripping his dark eyes away from you and hurriedly finishes his work on your injury. Soon, heâs closing the lid on the first aid kit and pulling away from you.
âDonât do anything stupid, youâll open it up and youâll really have to get stitches.â Nam-gyu scolds in a low, monotone voice. Heâs throwing away the wrappers and bloody gauze and coming right back to the couch, sitting next to you.
You want to say something, thank him maybe, but you canât form any words. From fumbling the deal, nearly getting killed, having Nam-Gyu save you and patch you up like a knight in shining armor- it was all so much. Your mind was spinning and the tension within the room grew thicker the longer you two sat in silence.
âYou really didnât have to-â your pathetic attempt at breaking the silence is cut off by Nam-Gyu. âI didnât have to but I did. Enough about it.â His voice is rough, cracking with his terse words. âI could have taken care of it myself, ive been doing this for-â
âShut the fuck up and quit whining about it. It happened itâs over withâ Again, heâs cutting you off, âI donât give a fuck how long youâve been âin the businessâ I wasnât going to let you get your ass beat over some drugs.â When he says it, he feels like heâs dreaming. There was no way you were drug dealing this whole time. Your pretty little office-working self getting involved in one of the most fucked up and dangerous side gigs possible?! It made him sick.
He was never a good roommate. Hell, he was not even a good person to you most the time- but the idea of you having been so down bad on your luck, so beaten down by life and forced into the line of work solely to make sure you survived- it made him want to throw up. Nam-gyu didnât find himself around great company either but that was normal for him. He was antisocial and a jackass, working at a sleazy club, doing sleazy shit for a quick buck; it was normal for someone like him. It shouldnât have been normal for someone like you.
Nam-gyu runs his hands through his hair, drained and exhausted from the altercation, the silence fills the living room awkwardly yet again. His dark eyes flick over to the side of the couch you sat in, your mouth closing as if you decided against saying anything else. You look like a kicked puppy, shrinking into the couch as if youâre being scolded. Bruises are blooming over your face, a horrid reminder that Nam-Gyu didnât make it out of the VIP room with you quick enough.
The last thing you need is for him to be mad at you. Your life was dangled in front of your eyes like some sick prize to be won at a fair- an occasion that had happened to you one too many times while you worked dealing. He knows that this wasnât something new to you, you werenât some soft sheltered girl that needed to be scolded for getting involved with the big bad boys.
âIâmâŠâ Nam-gyu breaks the silence, sighing deeply as he tries to find the words he wants to say. He wasnât good at this. Comforting was never a word that could be used to describe him. âI know you could have handled yourself.â
His words make you release a breath you didnât know you were holding. You try to relax, try to relax your shoulders and straighten your back, to sit like an adult and not a child who was in trouble. âBut I wasnât going to sit there and just let you get your ass killed.â
âYouâre stupid as shit for getting involved in the line of work and youâre dumb as fuck for even thinking I wouldnât help you.â Nam-gyu seethes, he canât even make eye contact with you. Heâs leaned forward on his knees, eyes trained on the carpet, legs bouncing anxiously. You can even see, damn near hear, the gritting of his teeth as he clenches his jaw.
He hates this. Part of him wished he didnât jump in and pull you out of there. It would mean he didnât have to confront the feelings heâs been ignoring.
Nam-Gyu was for one, not a great person. He usually didnât give a fuck about anyone but himself. Thatâs how the world worked! If he wasnât number one in his world he wouldnât be here. Everything he did was only to benefit himself. Putting up the ad for a roommate that you answered to? Yeah, he only did that so he could have a bit of extra cash to spend on drugsâŠ.that was another fault of his- he could be strapped for cash and barely make rent but he always made sure he had his fix of whatever substance he could find and here he was bitching you out for dealing the drugs he did on a regular. How hypocritical.
He was painfully aware of how hypocritical he was. You would have made this so much easier if you were the pretty little office girl he thought you were this whole time. But you werenât, you were some badass drug dealer who could throw a punch. Who knows how many drug houses youâve been to, how many fights youâve been in or how many times you almost lost your life. He almost hates you for deceiving him in such a wayâŠ.almost.
You cringe at his words, they make your gut ache and heart drop. You felt stupid for arguing with him, you know if you were in his situation- you would have done the same thing. Itâs human nature. âYeah but your jobâŠ.â You say in a soft sigh, settling back into the old couch you two sat in. âThereâs no way theyâre going to let you backâŠI made you lose your job.â
âYou didnât make me do anything. I did the shit on my own.â He grumbles, his leg bouncing anxiously. He looks forward, at the ground, staring at seemingly nothing as he tries everything in his ability to not look at you. âOkay, smartass.â You respond, rubbing a hand against your forehead. âWhat Iâm trying to say is because you fought your own fucking boss for my sake you lost your job and now donât have anyway to make rent.â
It pissed him off how you were right, how did you know how much money he did or didnât have?! Was he really that much of an open book.
âItâs fine. I nearly killed your boss. Weâre even.â He grumbles, you can only sigh in response. In the fight you both had somehow attacked the otherâs boss. Nam-gyu did throw the first punch, that was a fact. He effectively ended the deal before it even started. âSo now Iâm assuming you donât have rent either right?â He adds.
âNope. Broke as fuck since I didnât finish the deal.â
After your response you sit in silence, itâs awkward but something seems to stir in both of you. Both of you are oddly calm for just admitting to not having any rent money for the month and effectively becoming black listed from the club / drug scene. Neither of you had a good source of income now.
After what felt like ages, you both speak at the same time.
âI robbed your boss at the clubâ
âI stole the drugs you were supposed to sell.â
Both of you turn, looking at each other incredulously.
âYou lying fuck! Oh my god I thought I was going to be the reason you were evicted.â You say looking at the mass amounts of the drugs that you were supposed to sell. âYeahâŠfigured we could flip itâŠmake rent and then some, yâknow.â Nam-gyu says sheepishly.
âWait.. you robbed my fucking boss!?â Nam-gyu immediately shouts looking at you like you have grown a second head. The man he has hated for years- the one who paid him below minimum wage just so he could pocket the money- you robbed him?! Nam-Gyu has wanted to rob that fucker blind for years! But with all the security and his need for a job, he never tried it.
âWell yeahâŠâ you shrug, hand rubbing the back of your neck. âIt was easy reallyâŠhe had the cash laid out in gaudy fucking stacks on the table and he broke his ring when he hit me soooâŠâ you laugh awkwardly, âwhen shit hit the fan and they were distractedâŠâ You turn and grab your bag you had been carrying, dumping it out onto the couch.
Wads of cash tumble out the bag, some falling to the couch cushions, some bouncing off the plush seat to settle on the floor. After what was too many bundles of cash and crumpled single bills fall out of your bag, a broken, diamond incrusted falls out like a perfect cherry on top.
ââŠI took what I could get when you grabbed me.â You finish, smiling proudly at him.
Nam-Gyu looks at you bewildered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Itâs like his whole idea he had of you in his head had been shattered- it had.
He moves before he can even realize what heâs doing, heâs launching over the couch and grabbing your face in his hands, cupping both of your cheeks.
A wide, proud, almost grateful smile stretches across his lips, âYou have no fucking idea how amazing you are- oh my fucking god- so fucking smart! So perfect!â
Your eyes widen when he speaks, each word that you hear makes your heart hammer into your chest more and more, youâre not even sure what to respond. Heâs so close youâre breathing in each otherâs air.
âI-â your words pathetically fall into a cracked sound that is somewhat of a squeak. You canât even form a response, you were certain praise like that would never have fallen from Nam-gyuâs mouth, let alone be directed at you.
Your surprise makes him realize exactly what he said. His eyes dart around nervously, trying to think of anything he could say to act nonchalant- there literally is nothing. Not with what he said, not with the position you two were in.
A moment of silence washes over you both, the air thick with a tension neither of you had noticed until now. Youâre not sure who moved first but after a long moment, you two are leaning in and closing the distance.
Your lips mold with his, admittedly itâs a bit tense and awkward at first, both of you unsure and nervous. It takes a few seconds but both of you ease into it, lips moving slowly and meticulously against one another, melting into the feeling. It was so gentle, tender even. Something neither of you had experienced.
You raise a shaky hand, placing it on his cheek and pulling him closer, feeling an innate need to deepen the kiss. He seems to reciprocate, his shaky hands hovering over your waist- unsure and scared- before heâs gripping at you and pulling you closer to him on the couch.
Months and months of pent up feelings of anger, desperation, and pure need are translated through the kiss. He canât get over how you taste, so sweet, your lips are so soft. Nam-gyu has never felt anything like this, itâs a kiss that makes him feel like itâs his first one ever. Itâs not, far from it but this isnât a lustful kiss that is spur of the moment while he fucks you- itâs a slow, strategic kiss that molds your lips so perfectly with his like both of you are trying to memorize the individual lines on the others lips. He was never one for romantic shit, he always said he didnât do relationships. You were different though.
Nam-gyu could slap himself, really, he feels so cheesy to even think something like that. You made him feel things he would never even dream of, you made him feel vulnerable in the best way.
He kisses you as if youâre the oxygen he needs to breathe, hands gripping at your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The movement makes you let out a surprised gasp, Nam-gyu swallows it down effortlessly, settling you onto his lap with ease like youâve been there before.
When you pull back for air, heâs chasing your lips like this would be the only time he will ever get to kiss you. With a smile on your lips, youâre kissing him once again, hands threading themselves into the dark hair at the back of his neck. Nam-gyuâs hands hastily shove up the shirt you had on. Heâs placing his palms on your ribcage, thumbs just under your breasts, and pulling you into him.
When he needs air, despite depriving himself of it for far too long, heâs slumping into the couch bonelessly, eyes fluttering open to look at you sat so prettily on his lap. Despite being bruised and still covered in dried blood, he thinks youâre the most picturesque thing to have graced his field of view.
âIâm sorry I wasâŠ.amâŠsuch a dick..â Nam-Gyu mumbles, eyes trailing over your body trying to memorize every intricacy. âYou donât deserve it..I was a horrible roommate, I was-â
âAnnndd~ I literally was literally dealing drugs and tried to kill your boss in front of you- Iâm not a saint either.â You say, one of your hands releasing his hair to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the skin.
Nam-Gyu, much to your surprise, doesnât shy away from your touch, heâs turning his face into your hand and nuzzling your palm. âStillâŠâ he huffs, lips brushing against your palm. He pouts like a dejected kid, mind racing through every single time he had argued with you or was more than an unsavory roommate.
You let out a yelp when he nips at your skin, âWhat the fuck was that for?!â
âThatâs for not fucking telling me you were some badass drug dealer, here I was thinking you were some prissy office siren who never did drugs- you gave me more than one glare when I was railing lines off the coffee table.â Nam-gyu chuckles, dark eyes roaming your face.
âI was fucked up high!â You laugh, pushing at his chest, âI wasnât glaring, I canât judge you for doing that shit, youâre a grown man- I was so fucking high my eyes were about to shut on their own while I was standing.â
Both of you begin to laugh, short chuckles and soft giggles turning into full on, boisterous laughter. It was so cheesy, both of you too caught up in your own emotions and insecurities that neither of you thought of what could be if you both just sat down and talked like adults.
âWell then, now that I know you are down for some substances~â He says, catching his breath.
âEw, donât say it like thatâ
Nam-Gyu laughs once more, shifting slightly to reach into his back pocket. He pulls out a small ziplock bag, brightly colored with a trippy design, immediately you can smell the dank aroma of weed, âWhy donât you let me roll for you, and tomorrow I can take you out properly.â
You smile, nodding, taking the bag from his hand to inspect the green flower, âyou wanna take me out while I look like this?â You say lifting your free hand to point at your bruised and cut face.
âOh hell yeah, you look tough as shit.â Nam-Gyu nods, hand dropping from your waist to tap playfully on your ass a couple times. âIf you wanna heal and settle before I take you out, by all meansâŠ.but Iâm taking you out as soon as the bruise is gone.â
When he finishes his sentence Nam-Gyu leans in, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your bruised flesh. âIâm done being stupid, beinâ a dickâŠâ His words trail off as he repeats every time he was an ass to you over and over in his head.
When he would turn on the washer to make she shower go cold- it wasnât to piss you off, it was really so he could hear the cute squeal you let out and hear how you sounded yelling his name. He learned quickly he liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.
When he would banish you from the kitchen while he was cooking, it wasnât because he found you annoying. It was because he was distracted by your perfume. The second you walked into the kitchen, or even the living room, he could smell you. It was a scent that comforted him in the strangest way- that unfamiliarity scared him.
Nam-Gyu was a loner through and through, he loved his alone time. Hell, he hated the club scene- heâs not even sure how he does the job, itâs like the second heâs clocked in a switch is flipped and heâs on autopilot until he clocks out. All that to say, that is why he lived alone.
But, with rent too high, he needed a roommate despite how much he did not want one. And as much as heâs lied to himself, saying you were possibly the worst roommate to have- he found himself enjoying coming home to evidence of you being there. Your hair ties left on the ground, lipgloss near the front door, the various pairs of shoes that overcrowd his singular pair in the entryway- he loved it.
âYou are fucking terrifying.â
âIâm sorry?!â You say with a laugh, looking down at him with your eyebrows furrowed. Your hands fall to his shoulders, pushing yourself back the slightest bit to look at him better.
He shakes his head violently, âno! Not like a bad thingâŠâ he mumbles sheepishly, looking at you through thick lashes, âyou justâŠmake me feel things, things I donât know if I want to feel.â
âIs that a good thingâŠ?â You ask, uneasy, feeling like maybe the kiss you two shared was too much.
âI think.â Nam-Gyu says, his hands grip your waist harder, anchoring you to him as if he was scared he fucked this all up and youâd leave. âThe more Iâm around you the weirder I feel but I crave more of itâŠâ
You laugh softly, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek, thumb brushing over the bruised skin gently. âWell then, Iâd like to help you explore those weird feelings, give you what you crave..â
Nam-Gyuâs heart feels like it skips a beat, his breath is caught in his throat but heâs grinning up at you like the biggest idiot. Leaning into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, he nods.
âGood.â He responds, his arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into him. Chest to chest he buries his head in the crook of your neck, nose running along your pulse point. âYou can start by sleeping in my bed with me tonight.â
Heâs up off the couch, carrying you down the hallway before you can even protest. In a fit of giggles you cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. When he feels you tighten around him, his whole body feels warm- he could never get enough of it. And now that he has it, heâs positive that he could never be without it.
overheard my dad calling my mother a slur in his native language, i said to him dont call your wife [slur], he then came over and gave me a black eye đ«
Description: (shy fem!reader) run into Namgyu at a graveyard after barely making it out alive from that hellhole. He treated you like absolute shit during the games, but when he hears your story, something cracks in that misogynistic asshole head of his and he drags you to Club Pentagon as a half-assed apology. Between drinks, smoke and brutal honesty, you realize you're both equally fucked-up, you ended up having a dirty fling.
Warnings: Heavy dark themes - post-game trauma, child death (nephew), drug overdose mention, verbal abuse/misogyny, alcohol & implied drug use, depression, suicidal undertones, explicit smut (rough consensual sex, dirty talk, dominance, degradation, choking lite).
The graveyard smells like wet dirt and dead flowers, like death took a shit and decided to linger. Youâre standing in front of a tiny fresh grave, cigarette dangling unlit from your lips because honestly, whatâs the fucking point? Itâs been weeks since you crawled out of that nightmare they called "child's play" âa slaughterhouse for broke desperate peopleâ and all thatâs left inside you is this gaping hole. You went in for the money. For your two-year-old nephew. The kid you ended up raising alone after your sister bled out giving birth and left you holding a screaming baby you never asked for but somehow ended up loving like your own. You thought the cash would get him out of that shitty damp apartment in Seoul where the walls sweat and the neighbors fuck so loud it sounds like furniture warfare.
But no. You were gone three days. Three fucking days. Came back and he was cold in his crib, alone, eyes open like he was still waiting for you to come home. Starved. Dehydrated. Abandoned. The sickest joke: the only reason you signed up for that death game became the exact reason you now have zero reasons left to keep breathing. They gave you part of the prize money ânot the full pot, just the scraps for being one of the few who didnât get a bullet in the skullâ but whatâs money when thereâs no one left to spend it on? You smoke when you remember to. Eat when your stomach screams loud enough. The rest of the time you just⊠exist. Floating in a fog where memories of bodies dropping and blood spraying wake you up soaked in sweat at 3 a.m.
You still donât know how you survived. You really donât. You were the quiet one, the one shrinking into corners, avoiding eye contact with the alpha-wannabe pricks. And among them, the worst one: Namgyu. That club promoter with the face of someone whoâs done too much coke and lost too much on crypto. He tormented you the whole time. Called you âweak little bitchâ whenever you looked ready to quit. Pushed you verbally until you wanted to cry. âGirls like you donât last five minutes,â heâd sneer with that sarcastic smirk that barely hid how insecure he actually is. Classic misogynist trying to play funny and tough. And now, look at that âthere he is, leaning against a headstone like itâs a bar counter, bottle in hand, staring into nothing.
You walk over because why the fuck not. Nothing matters anymore. He looks up, blinks like heâs seeing a ghost (which you basically are), and lets out a dry snort. âNo fucking way. You? The coward who wanted to tap out every five seconds?â His voice is rough, permanently pissed-off, like a guard dog with anger issues. But thereâs something off. No pure venom this time. Just surprise⊠and maybe guilt? You shrug, quiet as always, and mutter, âCame to⊠you know.â You nod toward the small grave. He looks, frowns, and asks what the hell happened. You tell him. No sugarcoating. The nephew. The three days alone. The death. âI went in for him. And now⊠Iâve got nothing. Nothing to live for.â It comes out flat. Real. No dramatic tears.
Namgyu stays quiet for a second, takes a long swig from his bottle. Then he laughs âbitter, sarcastic. âFuck. And here I thought my life was pathetic. Came here âcause my coworker from the club âdumbass like meâ ODâd while I was stuck in that psycho island. Shot himself full of shit till he popped. And Iâm still here, alive, with a fraction of money that doesnât even cover forgetting.â He looks at you, and for the first time you see something human flicker in that asshole. âI was a dick to you in there, huh? Thought you were just some fragile chick who didnât deserve to be there. Shit⊠now I feel like the idiot.â You donât answer. Just finally light the cigarette and inhale deep. He scratches the back of his neck, awkward âhe hates feeling small, especially around women, but here you are, broken but still standing. âHey. Come to Club Pentagon. I work there. Iâll get you in, drinks on me. Call it⊠I donât know, an apology or whatever. Iâm not the flowers-and-poetry type, but at least the booze is free.â
You say yes because what else are you gonna do? The club is a neon headache âpounding music, sweaty bodies moving like the world isnât ending. Namgyu leads you to a corner VIP booth (perks of being a promoter) and you sit with drinks in hand. He starts talking, grumpy at first: âIâm a fucking mess, you know? Dumped everything into some crypto a YouTuber hyped up. Turned out to be a pyramid scam. Now I live in a damp-ass apartment that smells like failure and stale smoke.â You, loosening up from the alcohol and the fact that youâre both disasters, admit your side: dead sister, nephew you raised like a mom without wanting to be one, days you donât eat because guilt chokes you. âI smoke to forget. Doesnât work.â He laughs, sarcastic as hell: âLook at that. The shy girlâs got balls. I shoot up when the mood gets too dark, turn into a whiny insecure bitch, barking at everyone so I donât feel like trash.â You start seeing the parallels: fucked-up lives, drowning debt, trauma that money canât fix. He hates women who make him feel inferior, but you donât judge âyou just listenâ and that cracks him open a little.
More drinks. Maybe a joint he pulls out with that âdonât be a pussyâ smirk. You feel lighter, less shy. His hand lands on your thigh ârough, bold. âYouâre weird, you know? All timid but thereâs fire underneath. I like that. No fake superiority bullshit.â You surprise yourself and shoot back: âAnd youâre an asshole. But at least youâre honest.â Itâs not romance. Itâs two people who survived death deciding to fuck the pain away.
You end up at his place âa shitty one-room apartment in Seoul that reeks of old cigarettes and regret. Door barely closed and heâs shoving you against the wall, kissing you hard, hands yanking your skirt up. âFuck, you act so shy but look at you shaking already,â he growls, biting your neck while ripping your top off. You moan, still half-timid, but the alcohol and need take over: âShut up and fuck me already, asshole.â He laughs, dark and mocking: âOh, the little bitch finally barks back. Love it.â He lifts you, carries you to the messy bed, strips you fast and spreads your legs. Fingers find your soaked cunt. âJesus, youâre dripping. Hate me that much it turns you on?â He dives in, tongue on your clit, sucking hard until your back arches and youâre whimpering his name. âNamgyu⊠fuck⊠more.â He pulls back just to look at you, eyes dark, a flash of insecurity: âDonât make me feel like shit, alright? Tell me you want it.â
You do. You climb on top, sinking down on his thick cock, feeling him stretch you. âYeah, ride it like a good slut,â he grunts, hands gripping your hips hard. You start slow, shy, but then you speed up, nails digging into his chest. He flips you over, takes control, pounding deep and rough, one hand lightly around your throat. âGonna fill you up, fuck. Youâll feel me all fucking day.â You moan louder, orgasm building fast while he fucks you mercilessly, sweating, cursing. âYouâre mine now, weak girl. Donât you dare quit on me.â You come first, clenching around him, shaking. He keeps going, thrusts erratic until he groans broken and spills inside you, collapsing on top.
You both lie there panting. He lights a post-sex cigarette, smirking: âWell⊠at least we didnât die today.â You actually laugh âfirst time in weeksâ feeling the tiniest thread of something like life.
Note: this idea is not mine; it was taken from a suggestion sent to me by a follower, btw, thank u!
18+ content ahead ! || Breeding, Agegap (19 and 30, Unprotected sex, P in V, Oral (m! recieving), Light degradation, Throat fucking, Spanking, Breeding talk, Praise, prolly more idk im tired
The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the thin curtains of Namgyu's apartment, a constant backdrop to the quiet evenings you spent there. It was October when you first stepped into his world, the air crisp with the promise of fall, leaves crunching underfoot as you made your way to the address he'd sent. At 19, you were navigating the chaos of college lifeâlectures that dragged on, part-time gigs that paid peanuts, and the ever-looming dread of tuition bills. Babysitting wasn't your dream job, but the ad had caught your eye: good pay, weekends only, and something about helping a single dad tugged at your heartstrings. Little did you know it would tug at something else entirely.
The building was unassuming, tucked away in a residential pocket of Seoul, far enough from the bustling downtown to feel peaceful but close enough to hear the distant thrum of traffic. You knocked on apartment 402, smoothing down your simple sweater and jeans, trying to look responsible. The door opened, and there he wasâNamgyu. He stood at about 5'10", lean and skinny, his frame more wiry than imposing. His dark hair fell in slightly unkempt waves over his forehead, framing sharp features: high cheekbones, a defined jawline that spoke of quiet intensity, and eyes that seemed to hold stories he wasn't ready to share. He wore a faded T-shirt that hung loosely on his slender build, not a trace of bulkâjust the subtle definition of someone who moved with purpose but didn't chase gyms. A three-year-old boy peeked from behind his legs, clutching a toy car, his wide eyes mirroring his father's.
"You're the applicant?" Namgyu's voice was deep, a gravelly timbre that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. It wasn't commanding; it was tired, worn from long nights, but there was a warmth in it, like embers under ash.
"Yeah, hi. I'm here for the babysitting interview." You smiled, kneeling slightly to meet the boy's gaze. "And you must be Jiho. Cool carâdoes it go fast?"
Jiho nodded shyly, revving the toy against his dad's pant leg. Namgyu stepped aside, gesturing you in. The apartment was modest, a two-bedroom setup with toys scattered across the living room floor like colorful landmines. The kitchen opened into the space, counters cluttered with kid-friendly snacks and a half-empty coffee mug. Photos dotted the walls and fridge: Namgyu holding a newborn Jiho, the two of them at a park, grins wide under sunny skies. No woman in any of them. You didn't ask.
He led you to the couch, Jiho trailing behind. "So, the job's Fridays through Sundays, 7 p.m. to 6 a.m. I bartend at Club Eclipse downtownâupscale place, but the hours are killer. Jiho's a good kid, no tantrums usually. Bedtime's 8:30. He likes stories about dinosaurs. You okay with overnights? Couch pulls out, or you can use my bed if I'm not here. Just... be respectful."
You nodded eagerly, your pulse quickening under his steady gaze. There was something about himâthe way his lean fingers drummed on his knee, the faint stubble shadowing his jawâthat made your stomach flip. At 30, he carried an air of quiet maturity, the kind that came from shouldering responsibilities alone. "I'm great with kids. I volunteer at my campus daycare. And overnights are fine; my dorm's noisy anyway."
He asked a few more questionsâyour schedule, referencesâhis eyes flicking over you appraisingly, not in a creepy way, but like he was sizing up whether you could handle the chaos of his life. By the end, he nodded. "Start this Friday. 6:30 p.m. sharp, so we can overlap."
As you left, his hand brushed yours in a quick handshakeâwarm, firm despite his slender build. "Thanks for coming by."
"No problem." You smiled, but inside, a spark ignited. A crush? Already? You pushed it down, chalking it up to nerves.
That first Friday arrived with a drizzle, the streets slick as you buzzed up to the apartment. Namgyu answered in his work attire: a black button-up shirt tucked into slacks, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at his lean physique. No muscles bulging, just a straight, efficient line from shoulders to hips. He smelled faintly of soap and cologne, a clean, woody scent that lingered as he showed you around againâJiho's room with its dinosaur bedding, the kitchen stocked with easy meals, the living room TV for downtime.
"Jiho's had a snack, but dinner around 7:30 if he's hungry. Pasta's his favoriteânothing fancy." Namgyu ruffled his son's hair, the boy already tugging at your hand to show off his block set. "Call if anything. My number's on the fridge."
"Got it. Have a good shift." You waved as he grabbed his jacket, his eyes meeting yours for a beat longer than necessary. The door clicked shut, and you were alone with Jiho.
The evening unfolded easily. You built towering structures with blocks, laughing as Jiho knocked them down with dramatic sound effects. "Boom! Dinosaur attack!" he'd squeal, his tiny hands clapping. You cooked simple spaghetti, twirling noodles on forks and making silly faces to get him to eat his veggies. Bath time was a splashy affair, bubbles everywhere, followed by pajamas and a bedtime story. "The T-Rex was big and strong, but he had a little friend who helped him..." you read, Jiho's eyelids drooping by the end. Tucked in, he mumbled a sleepy "Night," clutching his stuffed bear.
The clock read 9 p.m. The apartment fell silent, save for the rain pattering outside. You tidied upâwiping counters, folding stray clothes from the laundry basket, even sweeping crumbs from under the table. It felt good, helpful. By 10, boredom crept in. The couch was lumpy, an old pull-out that sagged in the middle. Remembering his offer, you hesitated, then slipped into his bedroom. The space was sparse: a queen bed with rumpled gray sheets, a nightstand with a lamp and a photo of Jiho, a closet half-open revealing neatly hung shirts. His scent hung in the airâmusky, faint cologne mixed with something uniquely him. You climbed onto the bed, remote in hand, and queued up a light drama series, volume low.
Hours ticked by. You dozed lightly, the TV a soft glow. At 6 a.m., the front door openedâNamgyu, looking drained, his hair messier, shirt untucked. He kicked off his shoes, spotting you in the kitchen brewing coffee. "Morning. How'd it go?"
"Perfect. Jiho was an angel." You handed him a mug, your fingers brushing his. A jolt.
He sipped, eyes closing briefly. "You're a lifesaver. Envelope's on the counter." Two hundred dollars, crisp bills. As you gathered your things, he added, "See you next week?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
The weekends blurred into a rhythm. Second week: more blocks, a game of hide-and-seek where Jiho giggled from behind curtains. You cooked stir-fry, leaving a portion in the fridge for Namgyu with a sticky note: Fuel for the morning. He texted at 3 a.m.: Thanks. Needed that. Your heart fluttered.
Third week: Jiho wanted craftsâconstruction paper dinosaurs glued haphazardly. You cleaned glitter from every surface, laughing at the mess. Namgyu came home to the sparkle, chuckling softlyâa rare sound, deep and warm. "Looks like a party happened."
"Just dinosaur disco." You grinned, and his eyes crinkled, lingering on your face.
By the fourth weekend, your crush was undeniable. You caught yourself staring at photos on the fridgeâNamgyu at the beach, shirtless, his lean body tanned, ribs faintly visible under smooth skin. Not ripped, just naturally slender, like he forgot to eat sometimes amid the chaos. During overlaps, you'd chat more.
"How's school?" he'd ask, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his narrow chest.
"Busy. Midterms soon." You'd bite your lip, hyperaware of his proximity.
"Hang in there." His voice, always that gravelly tone, made your knees weak.
He started noticing you too, though he fought it. At 30, with a kid and a grueling job, romance was a luxury he couldn't afford. But you were vibrantâyoung, but responsible. The way you'd kneel to Jiho's level, your laughter filling the apartment, warmed the space he'd grown used to being cold. And physically? Your curves when you bent to pick up toys, the soft sway of your hips. He scolded himself nightly.
Then, the incident.
Sunday after the fifth weekend, you left early for a study group. Namgyu stripped his bed for laundry, sheets tangled from your TV sessions. Under the frame, a flash of black. He knelt, fishing out lace pantiesâsmall, delicate, with a tiny bow. Yours. They must have slipped from your bag when you changed into pajamas. His breath caught, heart pounding. He should wash them, return them discreetly. Instead, fingers trembling, he brought them to his nose. The faint scent of your laundry soap, a hint of floral body washâsomething intimately feminine.
"Fuck," he whispered, cock stirring in his jeans. Guilt warred with desire. He locked his door, Jiho napping in the next room. He lay back on the fresh sheets, panties in hand. He unzipped slowly, freeing his lengthâaverage but thick, veined, already hard. He wrapped the lace around it, the soft friction making him hiss. He stroked languidly, inhaling deeply. Imagined you in them, ass up as you cleaned.
"What do you feel like, sweetheart?" he murmured, pace quickening. He thumbed the head, pre-cum soaking the fabric. Visions of your mouth on him, eyes wide. "Take it, baby."
He bucked, groaning low. Climax hit hard, ropes of cum spilling over the lace, his body arching. Panting, he stared at the ceiling, shame flooding in. But the releaseâGod, it had been ages.
He washed them meticulously, hid them in his drawer, vowed to forget. But the seed was planted.
Flirting crept in subtly. Next Friday, as he left: âYou look nice tonight. That top suits you.â His eyes flicked down briefly, appreciating how it hugged your figure, lingering just a second longer than usual before meeting your gaze again.
A blush rising, you stammered, âThanks. Have a good shift.â Your voice came out softer than intended, and you busied yourself with gathering your things, heart fluttering as you replayed his words in your mind on the way home.
Saturday morning: he found you asleep on his bed, curled up, your tank top riding up to show a sliver of skin. He watched for a moment, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he took in the peaceful sight, adjusting himself discreetly before setting down the coffee he'd made. He sat gently on the edge of the mattress, brushing a stray hair from your face. âSlept well, darling?â
The pet name slipped out naturally, warm and affectionate. You blinked awake, warmth spreading through your chest at the sound of it, the way his voice wrapped around the word like a caress. âYeah. Your bedâs comfier than the couch by far.â
âGlad you think so.â His smile was small, but genuine, his eyes soft as they held yours for a beat longer than necessary. He handed you the mug, fingers brushing yours in the exchange, the brief contact sending a spark up your arm.
Your crush deepened from there. Youâd fantasize during classesâhis lean hands on you, tracing slow patterns over your skin, that deep voice whispering praises in your ear. At night, alone in your own bed, you touched yourself, fingers circling your clit slowly to thoughts of him above you, moving with deliberate care, drawing out every sensation.
Weeks passed like that, the tension building in small, stolen moments. November brought chillier nights, the air crisp outside while the apartment felt warmer with shared routines. You baked cookies with Jihoâchocolate chip, gooey centersâand left a plate covered on the counter for Namgyu. He ate one Sunday morning, leaning against the kitchen island in his rumpled sleep clothes, moaning softly around the bite. âThese are incredible, sweetheart. You spoil us.â
âJust being helpful.â But your eyes locked as he licked a bit of melted chocolate from his thumb, heat simmering between you, unspoken but palpable. He held your gaze, a faint flush on his cheeks, before murmuring, âYou have no idea how much I appreciate it.â
December: the holidays loomed, adding a cozy glow to everything. You decorated with Jihoâpaper snowflakes taped to the windows, strings of lights draped haphazardly but cheerfully. Namgyu came home to the cheer one evening, his lean frame silhouetted in the doorway as he shrugged off his coat. âLooks festive in here. Thanks for making it feel like home.â
âJihoâs idea mostly,â you smiled, stepping back to admire the handiwork, but he moved closer, his hand grazing your arm as he reached to adjust a crooked snowflake.
âYouâre good with him. Means a lotâto both of us.â His touch lingered, fingers trailing lightly down your sleeve before pulling away, leaving a trail of warmth.
Touches like that started lingering nowâhis fingers brushing yours deliberately as he passed the cash envelope at the end of a night, a hand grazing your lower back in the narrow kitchen as he reached past you for a glass. âCareful there,â heâd say, his voice low and close to your ear, the words sending shivers down your spine. You'd pause, breath catching, before stepping aside with a soft laugh to diffuse the charged air.
By Christmas weekend, tension crackled like static, every glance and brush feeling loaded. He left a small gift on the counter one morning: a soft scarf in your favorite color. âFor the cold nights,â his note read simply.
You gifted him fancy coffee beans you'd picked out, thinking of his late shifts. âFor your breaks at work.â
Eyes met over the exchange in the quiet kitchen, the apartment still asleep around you. âMerry Christmas, Namgyu.â
âYou too, baby.â The name hung in the air, charged and intimate, his voice rougher than usual as he said it, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue.
January 2026 dawned colder, but the flirting grew bolder, weaving into texts and stolen conversations. âMissed seeing you this week,â heâd text mid-shift, the message lighting up your phone unexpectedly.
âMissed Jiho. And you,â your reply came with a racing heart, fingers hovering before hitting send.
Heâd come home some nights, lean against the doorframe with tired but warm eyes, watching you pack up your things. âStay for breakfast sometimes? I make decent pancakes.â
âMaybe next time,â you'd tease lightly, though the invitation made your stomach flip, imagining lingering over coffee with him in the morning light.
The night arrived: January 4, 2026. Friday. Routine as everâplaytime with Jiho, building elaborate forts from blankets and pillows, laughter echoing through the rooms as you crawled inside with him, pretending to hide from imaginary monsters. Dinner followed: chicken nuggets you shaped like dinosaurs, Jiho devouring them with ketchup smiles smeared on his cheeks, chattering about his day. The bedtime story dragged on sweetly, his little yawns tugging at your heart as you read extra pages just to prolong the coziness. He was tucked in by nine, the apartment falling quiet, the hum of the city faint outside.
You cleaned meticulously afterâdishes sparkling in the rack, toys organized back in their bins, even dusting the shelves and wiping down counters, the domestic rhythm soothing in its familiarity. By eleven, the couch called, but your back ached from hours of fort-building and chasing Jiho around. His bed it was, the decision made without much thought now. You changed into sleep shorts and a tank, the fabric thin and comfortable against the cool sheets. His scent enveloped you immediatelyâclean laundry mixed with something uniquely him, comforting and subtly arousing. The TV hummed softly from the living room, but you brought the remote to bed, flipping to a rom-com playing low. Sleep evaded you; thoughts of him swirled relentlessly. What if he came home early tonight? What if he found you here again, and this time...
At 3 a.m., the door clicked softly. Footsteps, deliberate but quiet. You sat up slowly, heart pounding in your chest, pulling the sheets a bit higher instinctively. Namgyu appeared in the doorway, still in his work clothes, hair tousled from the night air, looking less exhausted than usualâalmost alert, his eyes adjusting to the dim light from the bedside lamp you'd left on.
âYouâre early,â your voice was soft, surprised, a small smile creeping despite the nerves.
âSlow night at the bar. Boss let me go a couple hours ahead.â He toed off his shoes by the door, loosening his collar further with a sigh, the motion drawing your eyes to his slender neck and the hint of collarbone revealed. He paused, taking you in. âJiho good tonight?â
âAlways. We had a blast with the forts. Slept like a rock after story time.â You shifted under the sheets, the rustle loud in the quiet room. âI can move if you want the bedâgive me a minute to grab my stuff.â
âNo, stay.â He crossed the room slowly, sitting on the edge of the mattress, the dip pulling you slightly toward him. Close nowâhis knee brushing yours through the fabric, the heat of him noticeable even in the cool air. âWhat were you watching?â
âSome dumb romance movie. Couldnât sleep, so I figured background noise might help.â The air thickened gradually, his cologneâa subtle woody noteâmixing with the roomâs warmth, making everything feel more intimate.
He nodded, his eyes tracing your face slowly, then down to your bare shoulders where the tank strap had slipped a bit. He didn't look away immediately, and you felt the weight of it. âMe neither, lately. Mindâs been too busy to shut off.â
âWork keeping you up?â You tilted your head, pulse quickening as you held his gaze, sensing the shift.
âPartly.â His voice dropped, gravelly from the long night, but something deeper in it now. âOther things on my mind too.â
Silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words, the kind that had been building for months. His hand rested on the bed, inches from yours, fingers flexing slightly. You swallowed, emboldened by the quiet intensity, the way he wasn't moving away. âLike what?â
His gaze darkened as he leaned closer, slowly enough that you could have pulled back, but you didn't. âLike you, sweetheart. You've been on my mind a lot.â
Heat bloomed in your chest, spreading outward. âReally?â
âMmh.â His fingers brushed yours then, intentional and light, tracing the back of your hand. âThe way you are with Jiho, how you make this place feel warmer. How you help without being asked. And⊠other ways you've been creeping into my thoughts.â
âIâve thought about you too. Since day one, honestly.â The confession tumbled out, breathy but honest, your hand turning to lace fingers with his tentatively.
He inhaled sharply, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. âThis is dangerous territory, baby. Iâm older. Got responsibilitiesâa kid, a job that wears me down.â
âBut?â You inched closer, your knee pressing more firmly into his thigh, feeling the warmth through his pants.
âBut I canât stop thinking about it. About you.â His free hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your skin softly, calluses from work rough in the best way. His skin was warm, the touch electric yet tender. He searched your eyes. âTell me to stop if this isn't what you want.â
âDonât.â A whispered plea, your eyes fluttering as you leaned into his palm.
He closed the gap slowly, lips meeting yours gently at firstâtesting, soft pressure that lingered, giving you time to adjust. You sighed into it, hands fisting his shirt loosely at first, then pulling him closer as the kiss deepened gradually. His mouth was firm yet yielding, tasting of mint gum and a faint hint of whiskey from a slow night at the bar. His tongue traced your lower lip patiently, seeking entry; you parted for him, tangling slowly, exploratory, savoring the newness. His hand slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, angling you gently for better access, while the other stayed at your waist, fingers splaying over the thin tank, feeling your warmth and the quick rise of your breaths.
âGod, sweetheart,â he murmured against your lips, breaking for air but staying close, forehead almost touching yours. âYou taste even better than I imagined. So sweet.â
You chased his mouth instinctively, nipping lightly at his lower lip with a soft smile. âMore. I've wanted this for so long.â
He obliged, kissing you deeper now, but still unhurried, like he was memorizing every sigh and shift. Hands roamed graduallyâyours up his lean back, feeling the subtle shift of muscles under his shirt, taut from daily life, carrying Jiho, lifting at workânot bulky, but strong in a real, lived-in way. His hands gripped your hips gently over the sheets at first, then pulling them aside as he drew you closer, guiding you onto his lap with care. Straddling him, you felt his arousal press against your core through the layers, hard and insistent, but he didn't rush, just held you there, rocking subtly as the kiss continued.
âFeel that?â He ground up once, slowly, his voice husky against your ear. âBeen like this thinking about you more times than I should admit.â
âYes,â you breathed, rocking back instinctively, eliciting a low groan from him that vibrated through his chest.
His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck, slow open-mouthed kisses that made you tilt your head back. He sucked lightly at your pulse pointâmarking territory gently at first, then with a bit more pressure. âBeen wanting to taste you here for weeks.â He nipped softly, soothing it immediately with his tongue, his breath warm against your skin. A pause, then quieter: âFound something of yours a while back, under the bed.â
You stilled for a moment, heat flooding your face as you remembered. âMy⊠panties?â
âMmh.â He bit a little harder then, a sting of pleasure that made you gasp. âCouldn't help it. Smelled like you.â
âWhat did you do with them?â Breathless now, you ground slower against him, the friction building that ache.
âSmelled them while I touched myself. Wrapped them around my cock, imagining it was you.â His hands slipped under your tank finally, palming bare skin along your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. âJerked off slow, thinking of being inside this pussy.â
âFuck, Namgyu.â Arousal soaked through your shorts, the words making you clench around nothing.
âLanguage, darling,â he teased with a smirk you could feel against your neck, but then he spanked your ass lightly over the fabricâa sharp crack that echoed softly, warmth spreading immediately. âThough I like hearing you dirty like that.â
You yelped softly, then moaned quietly, arching into him. âDo it again. Please.â
Another spank, firmer this time, his palm lingering to soothe the spot. âBossy little thing when you want something.â His fingers teased the hem of your shorts, tracing the edge. âWant these off? Or should we take our time?â
âOff. But slow is good,â you whispered, standing briefly on shaky legs to strip off your tank and shorts, leaving your panties for now. The cool air hit your skin, nipples pebbling as his eyes raked over youâhungry but appreciative, taking in every curve.
âPerfect. So damn perfect.â He groaned low, pulling you back onto his lap gently. His mouth latched onto a nipple slowly, sucking with deliberate pulls, his tongue circling the peak in lazy patterns while his hand cupped the other breast, thumb rolling the nipple gently. âSo responsive already. Love how you react to me.â
You arched into him, hands threading into his hair, tugging lightly as pleasure built in waves. âNamgyu⊠please, keep going.â
âPlease what, baby?â He switched sides, his teeth grazing ever so lightly before soothing with his tongue, drawing it out.
âTouch me lower. Need you.â
âWhere exactly?â Teasing still, his hand slid down your stomach agonizingly slow, fingers dipping just under the waistband of your panties.
âMy pussy. Please, touch my pussy.â
âGood girl, asking so nice.â His fingers finally dipped fully into your panties, finding slick folds waiting. He traced them lightly at first, gathering wetness. âDrenched already. All for me? Been like this waiting?â
âYes, all night thinking about you coming home.â He circled your clit slowly, pressure light and teasing, building sensation gradually without rushing to the peak.
âTell me more. Been wet thinking of me too? What do you do when you're alone?â Two fingers breached you then, curling languidly inside, exploring.
âEvery night,â you admitted on a gasp, riding his hand with slow rolls of your hips. âTouch myself just like this, imagining your fingers, your mouth.â
He pumped steadily but unhurried, his thumb joining on your clit in matching rhythm. âWhat else? Tell me what you think about.â
âYou fucking me. Hard sometimes, but mostly slow like this. Filling me completely, making me feel every inch.â
âDirty mouth on you.â He spanked your ass again lightly through the thin fabric remaining, the jolt sending sparks straight to your core. âLove hearing it though. Keep talking if you want more.â
Pressure built steadily, coils tightening deep inside, but he sensed it and slowed his movements deliberately, drawing it out. âNot yet, sweetheart. Want to savor you longer. We've waited months for this.â
He pulled his fingers free eventually, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean with a hum. âSo good. Taste yourself for me.â He offered them to you; you sucked gently, tasting your own salty-sweet arousal mixed with him, eyes locked on his darkening gaze.
âFuck, that's hot.â He stripped then, but not swiftlyâshirt unbuttoned slowly, revealing his lean torso inch by inch, a faint happy trail down his flat stomach that you traced with your fingers. Pants followed, pushed down with his help, his cock springing free: long, girthy, the tip flushed and leaking pre-cum, veins prominent along the shaft.
You knelt between his legs as he sat back on the edge of the bed, his thighs spread wide, that thick cock standing proud and already glistening at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, heat pooling low in your belly. âCan I taste you?â you asked, voice soft and needy, eyes flicking up to meet his.
âEager little thing, aren't you?â he murmured, a light edge of degradation in his tone that made you shiver, but his eyes stayed soft, affectionate, like he couldn't hide how much he adored you even when he teased. âGo ahead, baby. Suck me slow. Show me how bad you want it.â
You took him in hand firstâvelvety soft skin stretched tight over steel-hard heatâstroking from base to tip with a gentle twist, feeling him throb under your fingers as you watched every twitch of his expression, every hitch in his breath. You leaned in closer, breath ghosting over him, and licked the head tentatively, tongue flat and slow, tasting the salty pre-cum beading there, letting it coat your lips. âYou're so big,â you whispered, almost to yourself, âfeels perfect in my hand... gonna feel even better in my mouth.â
âAll yours tonight, sweetheart,â he said, voice low and rough, his hand coming to rest lightly in your hair at first, fingers threading through the strands without pulling yet. He guided your head down slowly, loose and patient, giving you all the time to adjust as you parted your lips and took him in.
You hollowed your cheeks right away, sinking down inch by inch, bobbing gently at first, tongue swirling underneath the sensitive ridge while your hand worked the base in slow, slick strokes. The taste of him filled your mouthâsalty skin, faint musk, that addictive hint of pre-cumâand you moaned softly around him, the vibration making his hips twitch.
âShit, yesâjust like that,â he groaned, praise coming steady and warm, his breath hitching as you worked him. âDeeper if you can, sweetheart. Take what you want... but I know you can take more than that, can't you? My greedy girl.â
You relaxed your throat gradually, pushing down further, feeling him stretch your lips wide, hit the back of your tongue. A soft gag escaped you at first, eyes watering just a little, but you breathed through your nose and pushed through, reveling in the deep, ragged groans it pulled from him. âGood girl,â he praised, voice dropping lower, âtaking it so well. Look at you, choking on my cock already and loving it.â
His hand tightened in your hair thenânot yanking, but firm, guiding you deeper as you bobbed, letting you set the pace mostly at first, his hips twitching occasionally like he was holding back. Saliva built quickly, pooling in your mouth, making everything wetter, sloppier; it dripped down your chin, coated your hand at the base, strings of it connecting your lips to him every time you pulled back for air.
You sucked harder then, humming around him deliberatelyâthe vibrations making him buck gently into your mouth, a low curse falling from his lips. âFuck, that's it... you're making such a mess, baby. My dirty little slut, drooling all over my cock like you can't help yourself.â
âGonna move a bit more,â he warned huskily after a few minutes, voice strained from holding back, his free hand brushing your cheek almost tenderly even as his words turned filthier. âGonna fuck your pretty throat slow and proper. Tap my thigh if itâs too muchâyou know Iâll stop.â
You didnât tap. You couldnâtâlost in the haze of it, moaning around him as he started to thrust, shallow and controlled at first, but building, his grip tightening in your hair, pulling just enough to sting in the best way, tilting your head back slightly to open you up more. He pushed deeper on each stroke, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat, making you gag wetly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as saliva spilled freely nowâmessy trails down your chin, onto your chest, soaking everything.
âThatâs it, choke on it,â he growled softly, a hint of degradation lacing the words as he held you down for a second longer each time, watching your face with dark, hungry eyes. âTake every inch like the good little cockslut you are. Fuck, look at youâgagging and drooling, eyes all watery for me. You love this, donât you? Love when I use your throat.â
He pulled your hair harder then, guiding your head to meet his thrusts, the wet, obscene sounds filling the roomâgagging, slurping, your muffled moans mixing with his grunts. It was messy, raw, overwhelming in the best way, your jaw aching, throat raw, but the way he praised you through itââSo fucking perfect, baby, my messy girlââkept you going, pushing you deeper into it until you were dizzy with need.
Eventually, after what felt like forever of that slow, relentless face-fucking, he eased up, letting you pull off with a wet, gasping pop, strings of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You coughed lightly, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, lips puffy and red, eyes glassy as you looked up at him. âWant you inside me now,â you whispered hoarsely, voice wrecked. âPlease.â
âNot quite yet.â He flipped you onto your back carefully, sliding your panties off with reverence, spreading your legs wide to gaze down. âPretty pussy. Glistening for me, all swollen and ready.â
He kissed your inner thighs first, slow and worshipful, sucking lightly to leave faint marksâbruises blooming under his mouth. âThese are mine tonight.â He licked a slow, broad stripe up your slit finally, humming at the taste. âTaste so damn good, sweetheart. Could do this for hours.â
He ate you out meticulously but patientlyâhis tongue delving deep at times, then circling your clit with feather-light flicks, sucking gently to build pressure. His fingers joined gradually, one then two, then three, stretching you open slowly, curling against that spot inside with practiced care. âRight here? Feels good?â
âYesâdonât stop, just like that.â You clenched around him, hips lifting, but he pinned one gently with his free hand, controlling the pace.
He dragged it out masterfully, edging you multiple timesâslowing when your breaths turned ragged and thighs trembled, then building again with renewed focus, whispering praises all the while. âSo close already? Hold it a little longer for me. Want you desperate.â
When he finally let you tip over: âCum for me now. Soak my face, let go.â
Your orgasm crashed in long, pulsing waves, body arching as you cried his name softly, fingers gripping the sheets.
âGood girl, beautiful.â He kissed up your body lazily, trailing over stomach and breasts, his cock nudging teasingly at your entrance as he settled between your legs. âReady for me? Tell me if it's too much.â
âYes. Raw, want to feel all of you. Want your cum inside.â
âYou want me breeding you like that?â He groaned deep, rubbing the head through your folds slowly. âFill this tight cunt full?â
âPlease, yes.â
He pushed in inch by inch, agonizingly slowâthe stretch burning sweet and intense, giving you time to adjust around every vein and ridge. He paused halfway, kissing you deeply. âSo tight. Perfect fit. Breathe with me.â
He bottomed out eventually, pausing fully, forehead resting against yours, both breathing heavy. âFeel me deep? All the way?â
âSo full.â You clenched deliberately, urging him with a roll of your hips.
His thrusts started languid and deepâpulling almost all the way out slowly, then sliding back in with control, letting you feel every drag. Skin slapped softly, rhythm building gradually. âTake it, baby. Every inch, just like you wanted.â
He praised you endlessly, voice rough with restraint. âDoing so well for me. This pussy was made for my cock.â
He spanked your thigh lightly mid-thrust, the sting heightening everything. âSlutty girl, letting me raw you like this. Begging for my seed.â
âYour slut,â you gasped, meeting his thrusts. The pace quickened naturally, but stayed intimateâeyes locked, breaths mingling, hands intertwined at times.
He flipped you to cowgirl after a while, hands on your hips guiding but letting you lead. âRide me slow first. Show me how bad you want it.â
You bounced gradually, starting with deep grinds that rubbed your clit against his base perfectly. His hands gripped tighter, spanking your ass intermittently to encourage. âThat's it, darling. Faster when you're ready.â
You built speed together, breasts bouncing as he leaned up to suck marks into them, teeth and tongue working in tandem. âGonna breed you deep one day. Pump you full, watch it take.â
âYesâcum inside me. Mark me yours.â
He flipped you onto your backâno, wait, he rolled you over with that effortless strength, positioning you on top in cowgirl, his strong hands settling on your hips like anchors. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry, as he guided you down onto his throbbing length once more. âRide me slow first,â he murmured, voice low and commanding, thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. âShow me how bad you want it, darling.â
You started with deliberate, teasing grinds, sinking down fully each time so your clit dragged perfectly against his base, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Your hands braced on his chest for leverage, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. He watched you intently, lips parted, as you rolled your hips in deep, sensual circles, drawing out every inch of friction. His grip tightened possessively, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks, and thenâcrackâa sharp spank landed on your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made you gasp and clench around him.
âThatâs it,â he growled, delivering another playful smack that echoed in the room, followed by a soothing knead of your flesh. âGood girl. Faster when youâre ready. Make me feel how much you need this cock.â
Emboldened by his praise, you picked up the pace, bouncing gradually at first, then with building rhythm. Your breasts heaved with each rise and fall, drawing his gaze like magnets. He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer, his mouth latching onto a nipple with a wet, hungry suck. Teeth grazed the sensitive peak, tongue swirling in tandem as he left dark, claiming marks across your chestâhickeys that would linger for days, reminders of this night. His free hand roamed, pinching and teasing the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until you whimpered.
âFuck, youâre so beautiful like this,â he rasped against your skin, thrusting up to meet your downward strokes, the slap of bodies growing louder. âGonna breed you deep one day. Pump you full of my cum, watch your belly swell with what we make. Youâd look so fucking perfect carrying my seed.â
The words hit you like a wave, filthy and intoxicating, making your core tighten around him. âYesâplease,â you moaned breathlessly, grinding harder, chasing that edge. âCum inside me now. Fill me up. Mark me as yours.â
He groaned at your plea, hips bucking wildly for a moment before he regained control, but the promise hung heavy in the air as you both teetered on the brink.
Then, with a swift, gentle maneuver, he shifted you againâturning you over onto your hands and knees for doggy, his touch careful despite the raw hunger in his eyes. He positioned himself behind you, hands spreading your thighs wider as he admired the view: your ass presented to him, still tingling from earlier spanks, your pussy glistening and stretched from him. âGod, this position⊠you have no idea what you do to me,â he whispered, sliding back in slowly, inch by thick inch, savoring the tighter, deeper angle that made you both shudder.
He started with long, deliberate thrusts, building that exquisite friction again, but soon his palms were raining down harder spanksâsharp, rhythmic cracks that turned your skin a blooming red, each one sending jolts straight to your clit. After every sting, heâd soothe it with a tender rub, fingers tracing the heat, dipping teasingly close to where you joined. âThis ass⊠drives me crazy. So perfect, so mine. Takes everything I give it.â
One hand gathered your hair gently, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and tugging just firmly enough to arch your back deeper, exposing you even more. The pull sent a delicious thrill down your spine, making you push back against him instinctively. He leaned over you, chest pressing to your back, breath hot against your ear as he pounded deeper. âTell me,â he demanded, voice rough with possession, a particularly hard thrust punctuating his words. âWho owns this pussy now? Whoâs the only one that gets to fuck you like this?â
âYou do,â you cried out, voice breaking on a moan as he hit that perfect spot inside. âOnly you. Itâs all yoursâforever.â
Climax neared for both, breaths ragged and synced. Back to missionary for the endâintimate, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. âLook at me when you cum, baby. Want to see it.â he grabs your face making you look at him as he pounds you. the eye contact is almost too much!
Your orgasms wove together like a shared heartbeat, rising and cresting in perfect unisonâyours blooming first, your walls fluttering around him in sweet, rhythmic waves that pulled him over the edge with you. He followed a breath later, burying himself deep with a low, trembling groan, spilling into you in warm, endless pulses. âThatâs it, my love,â he whispered against your lips, voice raw with adoration. âTake all of me⊠you feel so perfect like this.â
He lingered inside you long after, unwilling to part, his forehead pressed to yours as soft, lazy kisses trailed over your mouth, your cheeks, the tip of your nose. Your bodies still shivered with little aftershocks, and he held you closer each time, murmuring gentle praises. âYouâre incredible⊠my sweet girl⊠Iâve got you.â
When he finally slipped out, slow and reluctant, he couldnât resist glancing down, a tender smile curving his lips as he watched his release ease from you. âLook at that,â he breathed, almost reverent. âYouâre so beautiful like this⊠marked by me, full of me. My favorite sight in the world.â
He pressed one more kiss to your forehead before padding to the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth and a soft towel. He settled between your legs again, but this time with infinite gentlenessâwiping you clean with careful, loving strokes, his free hand stroking your thigh soothingly. âMy precious girl,â he murmured between feather-light kisses to your hip, your tummy. âYou did so good for me⊠took everything so perfectly. Are you feeling okay, baby? Sore at all? Tell me what you need.â
You hummed contentedly, reaching for him, and he tossed the cloth aside instantly to gather you up. He pulled the sheets over you both, tucking you against his chestâyour head nestled under his chin, his arms wrapped securely around you like he never planned to let go. His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns along your back, up into your hair, massaging your scalp until your eyes grew heavy.
âI love you,â he whispered into your hair, over and over, like a lullaby. âSo much. You make me the happiest man alive.â He pressed kisses to your temple, your closed eyelids, the corner of your mouth. âRest now, sweetheart. Iâm right here⊠always right here.â
You drifted off tangled togetherâlegs intertwined, hearts beating in the same slow rhythmâwrapped in warmth, safety, and the quiet certainty that you were utterly cherished.
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