SMUT TAGS: dom!Hongjoong, sub!Reader, sadistic!Hongjoong, slightly bratty!Reader, oral (m. receiving), manhandling, heavy verbal degradation, slight blood play, rough PIV sex, making out
WARNINGS: age gap (Reader is technically older, but her eternal age is considerably below Hongjoong’s), minor injury
SUMMARY: You go to him when you're hungry for his blood. He satiates you in more way than one.
A/N: @lillys-bakery HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE
You stood in front of the mirror and stared at your reflection for one last time.
Looking well put-together was something you thought you had mastered over the past hundred years. Yet, tonight, you were hyperaware of the slightly uneven line of your lipstick, of how your eyelashes didn’t curl in a perfect symmetry, of the fact your hair already lost a bit of their volume. These were the smallest details that you learned to pick up on, and that nobody else would be aware of. They bothered you. You knew that, in the end, they didn’t matter. But you spent a few extra minutes trying to put yourself in a better shape, although the way you worked around these last rough edges was more out of nervousness about what was awaiting you tonight.
He always made you nervous. Not in a way that would make you want to resign – never, you were drawn to him like a moth to fire, not just to the scent of his blood, but to him as a whole. His personality. His aura.
To the way that being alone in the room with you, an immortal being, Kim Hongjoong seemed to be the ethereal one.
You swayed nervously as you waited in front of his apartment’s door. Last moments of peace. If only your heart was still beating, it would try to leap out of your chest. But you were nervous nonetheless, so much that you ran your hands up and down your arms to try and soothe yourself.
Although you spent the last few hours getting ready, you didn’t feel prepared for the moment the door clicked and swung open, Hongjoong’ eyes falling on you and a charming smile stretching across his face.
“I’m glad you made it.”
You did your best to return the smile.
“Come in. I’m finishing a drink but I will be all yours shortly.”
The large apartment was filled with shiny, black surfaces, white marble and golden accents that brought everything together. Not many personal items were on display in the large living room connected to the kitchenette, but it was very much a show-off with how clean, shiny and luxurious it looked. However, after having been here more times than you could count, you knew that other rooms were in no way worse.
There was a glass of water on the kitchenette counter that Hongjoong reached out to while you took off your coat and hung it by the entry. You watched as his throat bobbed with every sip, and smiled at the memory of teaching him to stay well hydrated before and after your encounters – he wasn’t so eager to listen to you at first, but he eventually gave in, making sure you saw him finish at least a full glass before the two of you would even sit together, just so you wouldn’t have to nag him about it.
You made your way to the black velvet couch that stood in the center of the living room, opposite of the large TV that was turned off for the time being.
Hongjoong soon joined you and sat down, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, right behind you, and stretched his neck with a groan. Your own movements were more timid as you sat closer to the edge, folding your hands in your lap. But you didn’t omit the way he tilted his head while stretching, the scent of his body breaking through the musky aroma of his cologne. Inviting. Tempting.
“How has the life been?” he asked casually, reaching to a remote and turning on the TV for some background noise before turning towards you with a smile.
“Same as ever. Nothing much changes when you’re my age” you laughed awkwardly. Hongjoong’s eyes dropped to your lips and you stuttered at the motion. “W-what about you?”
“Just business all around” he shrugged. “A lot of work, as always.”
“I hope you didn’t have too much coffee today” you grumbled. The man laughed at the memory – last time he was overworked, you consumed his blood with such amount of caffeine that your whole body was trembling for the whole next day.
“I didn’t, don’t worry. I had a full night of sleep today.”
“Good, good boy…” The words slipped before you could stop them, because you were fixated on his lower face so much you forgot yourself for a moment. “A-ah…”
Hongjoong’s chest shook with laughter and the corner of his lips lifted teasingly.
“Good boy, huh?”
From the way he shifted you could tell that the small talk was over. His hand reached to your face and tilted your lip, taking a long, knowing look at one of the sharp fangs in your mouth, retracted but still there, still present. You inhaled sharply. A shiver ran up your spine.
“Are you really old enough to call me that?” he teased. You were growing hyperaware of the warmth of his body where your knees now touched, and where his other arm was so close behind, almost closing around you. Your breath hitched.
“W-well, am I not…?” you tried saving your grace. Truly, your body was set in stone at much younger than he currently was, and even the real age didn’t prevent you from feeling like you’re the young, vulnerable woman caught in an older man’s embrace.
“You don’t look like it.”
“Looks can be deceiving. You know that. Y-you know how old I actually am.”
“So what?”
His hand traveled lower, wrapping around your throat and staying there. Gentle and unassuming, but carrying the weight that made your head spin.
“Are you even as old as you say? With the way I can imagine you blushing right now, I would say you’re barely a teen” he teased. “A virgin, to that.”
You bristled. He, of all people, should know better.
“I-I’m not-”
“I know you aren’t.” He pushed you down on the couch and crawled on top of you. You let out a whimper. It should be so easy to overpower a human, you thought. To push him back and make him submit to you by force – that’s what your nature was all about. You were predatory species, your entire point of being was to take from a prey like him.
Yet, you laid there, frozen, staring at him with your eyes wide. He must have known he was playing with fire; how could he not?
But he seemed to relish in the flames tickling his skin when he shaped them to his liking. And who were you to deny him that?
All those thoughts died in your mind when something glistened and a small pendant of a necklace slipped out of his satin dress shirt, dangling above your throat. Your eyes widened at the realization.
A cross. A silver cross.
Hongjoong caught your glance. And smirked.
“You told me crosses aren’t a problem.”
“B-but it’s made of silver.” You could almost feel the heat it resonated with.
The man leaned down a little and you held your breath.
“What will happen if it touches you?” he asked.
“It will hurt. Burn… like acid” you replied quietly.
“Is it dangerous?”
“N-no, but…”
He leaned down some more and the edge of the cross grazed your neck, making you let out a pained gasp. The sound of sizzling filled the air and you tried to squirm away, but Hongjoong’s hands grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back down.
“Don’t move, or it’ll happen again.”
Your chest heaved with each rapid breath you took.
“Hurts…”
“Just a little. You can take it.”
You squeezed your eyes closed. He was right. The pain wasn’t strong – it was the implication of it that terrified you more.
Something touched the raw wound on your neck, making you flinch. But the warmth was not the one of silver – it was on Hongjoong’s fingers as they brushed along the burn, watching it close slowly in front of his very eyes. Some of your blood caught on his thumb and he brought it to your face. You slowly blinked your eyes open.
Not a thought crossed your mind before you wrapped your lips around his finger. Your own blood wouldn’t suffice, no. But it wasn’t why doing this felt right. Your fangs ached dully, itching to bury in the flesh in their reach. You didn’t let the urge consume you.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked. You nodded with your eyes hazed. “How much?”
“I’m parched” you mumbled against his hand.
“Too bad.”
He pulled his thumb out of your mouth, making you whimper and try to follow, but his other hand pushed you away as he finally climbed off you, sitting back in his spot, hands resting on his thighs as he waited for you to regain your composure and sit back up.
You calmed down your breath, forcing yourself to sit up and pretend that the whole ordeal didn’t impact you like it did. As nonchalantly as you could muster, you smoothened the fabric of your dress and wiped the sealed skin of your neck, now only soiled with remains of blood, but no longer open.
You glared at him while trying to get your hair in order. Hongjoong’s gentle glance never left you, watching you with genuine curiosity.
“Why did you do that?” you grumbled.
“I was curious” he admitted innocently.
“Well, you satisfied your curiosity, so you can put it away now” you glared at the pendant on his chest instead. It rested against his skin so effortlessly you could almost believe it was harmless.
“Ask me nicely.”
Your hands froze mid-air as you just finished smoothening your hair to your best ability, and you slowly put them down in your lap, swallowing down your pride.
“Could you, please, put away all the silver that is currently within your range?” you drawled carefully. “And, while at it, all the garlic, too.”
Hongjoong’s chest shook with laughter at your last words. But he didn’t oppose this time, pulling the silver chain over his head and carelessly throwing it inside the drawer by the couch. You let out a sigh of relief.
“Could we just…?”
“Hm?”
“I told you I’m parched.”
“Hmm.”
He leaned back lazily. Another stretch of his neck – exposing the throat; you had no doubt now that the teasing was all on purpose, riling you up slowly and making your mouth water.
“Earn it.”
He glanced at you. There was no smile on his face now – only business. You narrowed your eyes at him.
“You want to suck my blood” he drawled lazily. “Suck something else first.”
Although physically unable to blush, you were certain your expression said it all. Hongjoong didn’t budge.
And you didn’t expect him to.
It wouldn’t be the first time. Not really. Not by a long shot. It started slow – the way he allowed it to, and the way you were able to take. He stretched his presence into your comfort zone at a respectful pace, going further and further until you, yourself, forgot what your limits initially were. You didn’t imagine going back now. But it still astounded you that you made it this far.
You scooted a bit closer to him on the velvet couch, your fingers brushing his thigh, clad in black slacks that laid on his silhouette in this effortlessly perfect way, as though there was no way anything could ever look bad on him, anyway. Hongjoong leaned back, watching you intently, but not making a move to guide you – not for now, clearly curious as to what approach you would take.
And you knew what approach would feel right.
You weren’t about to leave his apartment in as pristine shape as you entered it, anyway. Might as well make the loss worth it – you thought, leaving the soft couch and sinking to your knees, making your way between Hongjoong’s legs, pushing his thighs apart to sit comfortably.
You looked up at him with a small smile in the corner of your lip.
“You’re quite confident about letting me have you in my mouth” you joked lightly. “What if I bite you down here?” You allowed your hand to move to his crotch, grazing his bulge with your nails. It made him return the smile.
“You wouldn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“I trained you well, didn’t I?” He leaned forward, fingers grasping your chin, nails digging into your skin a bit more than necessary. “Or should we get back to basics? Should I fuck your face until you forget how to use those pretty little fangs of yours? Or bend you over so they are simply useless when I take that wet, undead cunt?”
Your breath caught in your throat at the crude words.
But there was no denying that you were growing wet from them, and Hongjoong knew how to push your buttons just about right. How to tease you, how to make you feel inferior in the sweetest way, maybe especially because you didn’t get to feel this way during your immortal life all that much.
As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, he let out a short, breathy laughter, before releasing your chin and leaning back, elbows resting on the backrest behind.
“Get to it.”
Your movements were careful at first, hands shaky as you reached towards the zipper, eyes fixated on the work in front of you because if you only glanced up towards Hongjoong himself, there was no way you would be able to focus on the task. You undid his slacks slowly, trying to steady your breath all the while.
You pulled down his boxers, and your mouth salivated. He was already semi-hard and your insides throbbed at the realization that he was impacted by you just as much as you were by him. It was a praise in itself, a recognition that you so desperately needed. Hongjoong’s attention was everything. If only you could please him in one way or another, gods, what else was there to want?
You felt yourself melt underneath him as you took him in your manicured hand, your lips pressing against his shaft with an expression of cult-like devotion. You dared a single look at his face – relaxed, yet fixated on you with intent. His fingers flexed in the air, a single white gold ring catching the light of the crystal chandelier above your heads.
You licked a long strip up his underside, your nails grazing him ever so slightly before you took the tip in your mouth. Your eyes closed, your thoughts slipping away at the familiarity of his shape and taste.
You took your time, slowly accommodating your throat to his thickness, setting an unhurried pace that you knew he could melt into, and when you glanced up once again, his own eyes were closed, silhouette relaxed, head leaning back in a way that exposed his delicious throat.
Your eyes caught a glimpse of a single vein pulsing right beneath his skin, a drop of sweat, tempting, calling you in… And before you realized, your fangs extended, and you rapidly pulled away, eyes widening at the hiss of pain just above you.
You- You nicked him. Your hands covered your mouth in panic. Your eyes shot up to meet his own, now fixated on you with a scowl on his face.
But then your gaze caught the smallest streak of blood running down the side of his length, and your eyes clouded for a second, your body leaning forward before you could even utter a thought.
Hongjoong’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you away before you reached him again. You whined.
“Really?” he scoffed, pushing you off him and onto the floor. You felt terror run through you at the brief thought of rejection.
But then you looked up and you saw his own eyes, flickering with something dangerous, but hungry, unsatiated.
And he was, undeniably, still hard.
Out of the chest pocket of his dress shirt, he pulled out a handkerchief. You watched intently as he brought the cloth to the wound. His blood, mixed with precum and your own saliva, soaked into the white fabric. Your eyes didn’t leave it for a second.
“Come here.”
You didn’t think before obeying.
Grabbing the back of your neck, Hongjoong shoved the dirty fabric in your mouth, and you moaned when the faintest flavor of his blood hit your tongue, although barely there, dissolved, impossible to satiate yourself with.
Without missing a beat, he pushed you onto the couch next to him, onto your hands and knees. You breathed heavily, still dazed, still fixated on nothing but the taste in your mouth. Hongjoong’s hands closed on your hips, fingers digging in as he leaned forward, hovering right above you. He clicked his tongue and a shiver ran down your spine, your back arching as you twisted your neck, trying to reach to him with your mouth. Hongjoong gripped you tighter.
“You’re a dumb slut, you know that, darling?” he seethed. “You didn’t even apologize. Blood-hungry, cock-hungry, either way you just need something in your mouth.” Whatever you tried to say, came out muffled around the fabric of Hongjoong’s handkerchief and turned into a whimper when his hand suddenly came down hard against your ass. “What was that? You can’t speak, you can’t do anything right, what are you, a mutt?”
His fingers moved, feeling you up through the wrinkled fabric of your dress, before closing around the back of your neck and pushing it down. Your elbows bent under the pressure, your cheek pressing into the black velvet of the couch.
“Stay.” The single word, spoken with almost-indifference, made your mind fog, and the position of pure submission, with your face down and arse up, only amplified that sensation. You felt the bottom of your dress being lifted until it no longer kept your lower half hidden, and Hongjoong hesitated only for a moment before pressing his hand against the last barrier – your lacy underwear. Your breath came out uneven when you unwittingly pressed back against him, and this one time he didn’t take it away, his own breaths heavy when you ground yourself against his palm. Your panties were already been soaked through, and he was touching the cold wetness now, so unnatural to what a human body should feel like.
It was less than a minute before he decided you’d had enough and grabbed the lace, pulling it down and off hastily. Not waiting any longer – you didn’t think either of you had any patience left – he lined up at your entrance, and you pushed back against him again. Your loud moan mixed with his barely-contained one.
“Fuck…”
“Joong…” You barely recognized your own voice, muffled through the handkerchief, a pathetic whine, so needy; an utter surrender.
Seemingly unable to hold back any longer, the man buried his length in you, all at once. Your fingers closed around nothing at the painful stretch. Shallow, strained breaths. You would heal in no time, you knew it, Hongjoong knew it, and that seemed to spur him on, pushing as far into you as he could, arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly as your body accommodated to his shape once again.
“There you go…” he whispered.
As if already knowing exactly the moment you’re ready, maybe from the way your body started relaxing for just a second it had, he pulled out almost completely and pushed in once again, roughly, and then once again, with even more force, until he set up a fast pace, with intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs.
Your body barely held itself up, only focused on trying to stay afloat during whatever Hongjoong decided to put you through. Your eyes were shut tightly, the tension in you growing rapidly, begging to be released. The sounds of your strained breaths and whimpers around your makeshift gag mixed with the ragged panting somewhere behind you and the noise of skin against skin, all doused in the scent of sex with that faint hue of Hongjoong’s blood that never quite dissipated. Were your fangs out or not, you weren’t even able to tell, not when your mind was hazed with pleasure and submission, with the sweet sensation of being dependent, taken apart and ruined.
And when you felt you would fall apart completely, Hongjoong suddenly pulled out of you; everything pulsed, everything still moved, hungry for more and relentless, when he snatched the handkerchief from your mouth and threw it aside, then sat on the couch and pulled you on top of him, one hand guiding his cock back into you when the other cupped your cheek, suddenly so desperate, suddenly just as needy as you were, filled with craving that only you could satiate. With remains of his pride and control thrown out the window, pulling you in closer as if he could not get enough.
His hold set the pace you did your best to follow, but now, with your eyes meeting from up close, you were barely aware of anything else. Your hands cupped his face, leaning down and making your lips meet in a messy, unsynchronized kiss.
“Bite me” he groaned against your mouth, a command, but with that hue of plea and desperation that made you ride him faster, more fiercely. A moan of your name slipped past Hongjoong’s lips as he tilted his head backwards, baring his throat to you, all sweaty, all inviting, all fucked out.
Your teeth bared on instinct, the hunger no longer possible to contain. You held on for just a moment, savoring the sight. So close now. You leaned in closer. Breathed in.
Your teeth buried in his neck.
The sweet ichor flooded your mouth and you moaned, the overwhelming sensation, melted with Hongjoong’s own pained groan, making you come undone on top of him, your muscles clenching, your teeth sinking deeper. Not even a few seconds later Hongjoong came as well, filling you, with everything he had, both your cunt and your mouth now full of him, full of Hongjoong, full of this luxurious goodness that you could kill for to keep all to yourself. You rode out both of your orgasms, letting the sensation take over. So good. So palatable.
And as the things gradually came to a still, you didn’t stop to take, filling yourself up to the brim.
“Enough, darling. Enough.”
Hongjoong’s hand patted your thigh gently and you reacted instantly, pulling your teeth out carefully. His expression was hazed, as though only half-present, but a small smile ghosted in the corner of his lip, a bit teasing, a bit of that fire he always had. He was slightly pale, and his hair was all tousled, and you didn’t even notice when you disheveled his shirt, now almost completely unbuttoned, showing all the sweat that ran down his chest. You wondered just how much more fucked out you must have looked right now.
You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.
“You’re really something else, Joong.” A smile broke out on his face and you mirrored it with your own. “You make it so easy to forget I’m the invincible one.”
“Not exactly invincible, huh” he smirked, his fingers reaching to brush your throat, where his silver cross had burned you before. You narrowed your eyes at him.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be. I told you I was curious. I meant it.” He caressed the skin gently now, rubbing it carefully, although he barely had any strength to hold himself up. “But I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”
You smiled proudly.
“I think I like you like this” you suddenly announced and the man blinked in confusion. “Don’t take me wrong, I liked you before, too. But, you are pretty cute when you lose some of that ego.”
A breathy laughter left him, before his hand dropped back to your waist, holding you just a bit closer for now. He was slowly falling asleep, and maybe, just maybe, you were enjoying that vulnerable version of him too much to keep him up.
“I will clean up and make you some sweet tea” you announced, finally climbing off his lap.
“Mhm…”
Hongjoong’s eyes were already closed, and you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss into his forehead.
Even barely conscious, disheveled and sweaty, with smallest strands of blood running down his neck, to you, Kim Hongjoong still looked ethereal.
A/N: Please reblog if you enjoyed and follow if you would like to read more in the future. Thank you for your time!
you're riding kim mingyu and find him absolutely beautiful and perfect. and so it's so easy for good boy to slip from your lips. little do you know that's all he needs to take full control so he can truly show you how much of a good boy he really is.
꒰୨୧꒱— kim mingyu x fem!reader
꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 2.8k
꒰୨୧꒱— genre : smut (mdni)
꒰୨୧꒱— cw : switch!gyu and switch!reader with dom!gyu. penetrative sex, unprotected sex. gendered praise on both sides (good boy/good girl), pet names (reader: princess). descriptive dirty talk, both narratively and with dialogue itself. heavy praise kink!
꒰୨୧꒱— tw : overstimulation, dummification, crying during sex from pleasure n overstimulation. cumming inside, heavy (?) subspace.
꒰୨୧꒱— notes : pure smut! this fic is written very stylistically for smut lol
you don’t think you’ll ever get over the sounds your boyfriend makes.
kim mingyu is beautiful; this is no different even when he is beneath you.
your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips. your arms are behind you, hands braced on his strong — thick — thighs. you can feel the clench of muscle underneath you with every gentle fuck of your hips, every sweet roll. your body is like the bow of a violin, his the instrument; with every soft grind of your body against his, the most beautiful, loud song sings, his thighs and abdomen clenching underneath you, his mouth parted wide.
your boyfriend’s pleasure is undeniable as you look down at him. your hips move in sweet figure eights that make his hands constantly shift from gripping at your thighs to the bedsheets, that makes his head tilt back and bare his golden throat to you.
and of course his voice.
mingyu is not quiet with his pleasure, body or sound. so while his body bends and shifts beneath yours, seeking and pushing from the pleasure of his dick in your cunt, his mouth sings.
“fuck,” he whines, dark brows furrowed together. he hisses, white canines glinting in the bedroom light as his jaw drops in his moan. you can see where his teeth are indenting his pinkish brown mouth, marking his lips while in his sexual trance.
“feels good,” you question, voice breathy as you continue to gently fuck down on him. it’s a trick question: you know he feels good. you feel so fucking powerful: mingyu, tall and broad and handsome and perfect mingyu, beneath you, his fat cock so deep inside your pussy you swear it’s in your cervix, gravity pushing you further and further down with every roll of your hips.
his fat dick is deep within you, his large hands digging into the flesh of your thighs, and he’s moaning, mingyu is moaning, lips curling with pleasure. this man, this absolute powerhouse of a man, is moaning and whimpering beneath you, and fuck if you don’t feel absolutely heady with that power.
when you fuck down on him you ensure his cock is sliding along that pleasure-spot in your pussy, sweetly stoking your own fires of passion. you can’t help but roll your head back at the slide of his dick, eyes falling shut prettily at the sensation.
mingyu’s hands slip over you. he’s touching without any particular aim, just wanting to feel. he slides his hands over your thighs, your knees. he brush his fingers along the outside of your legs before he grips at your hips. he nails, neatly trimmed and cleaned, dig into the flesh there.
he doesn’t use his grip to manipulate you in any way. mingyu just holds you like that, possessively marking your skin.
“feels so good,” he says, hands flexing against you. you can feel him shift beneath you, hips minutely tilting. “you feel so good, princess.”
you let out a little huff of laughter. sweat dots your hairline, your skin is discolored from his enthusiastic mouth and teeth, and your cunt is soaking from your arousal and his precum; yet you’re princess.
you move forward. you place your hands on mingyu’s abdomen. for a moment you just take in the feel of him beneath your hands. his soft skin, the way it rises and falls with every ragged breath he takes. you don’t think you’ll ever spend a moment not admiring mingyu; his heavy thighs and plush tits, his brown nipples and sweet mouth.
using your hands to give yourself leverage, you raise your hips off of mingyu. he lets out a shuttering hiss, voice cracking high on the tail-end of it.
when you drop back down on his cock, the flesh of your thighs meeting his with a sharp slap!, mingyu lets out a deep groan that seems to bubble out from deep within him.
you laugh again. “that’s it,” you say, still smiling as you raise yourself up off of his dick once more. “gotta be loud for me, sweetheart.”
mingyu lets out another little noise at the deceptively-soft nickname. “gonna kill me,” he whines. “you’re so —”
you drop back on his dick roughly. if you hadn’t spent so long riding him already, hadn’t already been thoroughly fucked open by his cock, the momentum would’ve absolutely torn you in half. as it is you feel breathless, as if the wind had been knocked out from you.
mingyu lets out a moan. “princess —”
“good boy,” you say, not quite aware of what words are escaping from between your lips, “such a good fucking boy.”
mingyu’s dark eyes open wide, his mouth parting. for a moment or two he just stares, just looks at you.
you raise your brows at him, hips shallowly fucking down on him, a silent challenge.
but then mingyu is flushing, blood rushing to color his golden skin. “say it again,” he properly whines, “say it again.”
you laugh at him, breathless. “taking me like a good boy,” you say. “you feel so fucking good inside of me, baby. stretching my tight little pussy so good like the good boy you are.”
mingyu groans again, and then he’s using his grip on your hips to tip you over onto the bed. his dick slips from your pussy as he moves the two of you, pressing your hot, sweaty body into the sheets and claiming your mouth with his.
mingyu kisses you with absolutely no finesse. it’s all tongue. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and sucks at yours in turn as he lines his dick back to your pussy.
he doesn’t fuck back into you immediately. mingyu holds his dick with one hand, sliding the tip of it along your folds. you’re absolutely soaking, and you can already feel fluid, a combination of your own juices and his precum, leaking down your cunt.
“say it again,” mingyu demands, eyes pleading. his curls stick to his forehead sweetly. altogether he paints a cute picture of desperation, of a man trapped in a place where the lines between want and need blur completely.
you laugh against his mouth. you wind your arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to yours once more. you suck at his lower lip, and for a moment he’s so distracted by your mouth that he forgets how he was taunting you with his dick, cock and the hand guiding it stilling.
“fuck me, mingyu,” you say against his chin. “fuck me like a good boy.”
mingyu lets out a groan, and then he’s fucking his fat cock back inside.
your cunt is, rather bluntly, gaping; there’s no pain from the stretch of his dick against your walls because there is no stretch. your pussy has so sweetly molded itself to the shape of him, allowing mingyu to seamlessly thrust back in.
immediately he’s pushing until his dick is perfectly nestled in, the root of his dick against you. mingyu tucks his head against your neck, letting out a shuddering breath.
you smile, one of your hands going to entangle with the sweaty curls at the base of his neck. “c’mon,” you gently taunt, “fuck me, baby.”
mingyu groans, a strangled noise, and then, ever obedient, he begins to fuck you.
the slide of his dick against your walls has you tightening your hold on him, knees squeezing at his hips and toes curling. mingyu can’t help but grunt a little as you constrict him. so he shifts, arms moving to loop underneath your legs and forcing them up, breaking your hold around his neck.
“gotta fuck you good,” he huffs. he uses the fold of your legs as leverage, slowly, maddingly, pulling his cock back from the hot heat of your pussy. “gonna fuck you so good, princess.”
his hands slip along the underside of your thighs, gripping them as mingyu moves to his knees. mingyu begins to fuck you properly, his thighs meeting your ass with sharp noises that seem to echo throughout the room; they do nothing, however, to hide the wet squelching noise of his cock thrusting in your pussy.
despite all the times you’ve fucked before, you never seem to be able to get over this. the feeling of his dick striking against your cunt walls, the slight burn of your legs from the position he has you in, the noise of your cunt squelching with every quick thrust.
because mingyu fucks you so eagerly. he’s chasing that high, chasing that hot pleasure that burns at his core. but he isn’t, of course, a greedy lover.
mingyu makes sure to grind his hips against you, makes sure to rub against your walls and make those electric bundles within you dance from the stimulation. and he talks as he does it, lisp becoming prominent, eyes bright with the fever of passion.
“feel so fucking good,” he says, and you almost can’t hear him over the sharp slap of his hips. “you’re so fucking hot and wet, princess — so fucking perfect, fucking made for me, made for my cock.
“perfect pussy — it’s mine, princess. you’re mine, fuck —” and when your cunt clenches down around his dick in response, mingyu can’t help but laugh breathessly, canines peaking. “like that, princess? like me telling you that you’re mine? you are. all fucking mine, no one else’s.
“no one else gets to see this,” he says, eyes darting over your body. he takes in the jiggle of your tits as he thrusts, the sweat that glistens on your skin. “no one gets to see you all fucked out ‘n pretty like this. no one else gets to see your pretty fucking tits, your cute little cunt.”
he lets out another laugh, and then he’s covering your body with his, hands sliding to the backside of your knees to force them lower and lower. you can’t help but groan a little at the pain of it, toes curling at the stretch.
and his dick — his dick seems to slide deeper in you, somehow forces itself further.
“tell me,” mingyu hisses, beginning to fuck you once more. “tell me i’m doing good, princess. gotta say it. say i’m fucking you good.”
you can’t speak for a moment. so much is going on. your pussy is clenching, gut tightening. you’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel everything so acutely; the slap of skin against skin, the stretch of your legs, his fat cock going so deep inside —
“tell me.”
your mouth quivers for a moment. when you speak it’s all automatic, not a single actual thought running through your brain. “so good, gyu — so — you fuck me so — so good —”
finally, and inevitably, mingyu slips his hand down to your cunt. it’s an easy glide of his thick fingers, slippery with your precious juices. for a moment he feels at your hole, feels your little hole gape around his dick as he fucks in out, in out.
then mingyu’s hand continues on its journey, slipping up to frame your cute clit with his fingers. you’re already tensing up, pussy gripping his cock, in anticipation.
and then mingyu begins rubbing at the muscle on either side of your clit, sending electric desire sparking up your body. he doesn’t rub in rhythm with his thrusts; instead mingyu keeps his hips quick and rabid and his rubbing smooth, a constant wave. it’s so much, it’s verging on overstimulating.
you don’t know what to focus on — you can’t focus.
your hips are bucking up into his, trying to meet each thrust, trying to spear yourself on his fat cock. at the same time you’re trying to force his fingers against you, trying to seek them out, and it’s this horrible, delightful overstimulation where you just don’t know what to do.
it’s mind dumbing. you feel frantic; wantonly so. there’s no thought in your mind, no desire other than this.
you want and you’re not even sure what you want; his cock fucking you so good, drilling into your sopping wet pussy, or his fingers, coaxing around your clit.
you feel dumb with desire and overstimulation. you don’t know, you just don’t know.
and it’s inevitable, really: you burst into tears. they spring out from your eyes and your mouth opens in a sob, your head pressing back against the mattress. you want want want but you don’t know, you don’t know —
mingyu presses his body against yours, grounding you with his heavy bulk. he presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders and throat and chest, trailing his lips. “c’mon,” he says, “gotta cum for me, princess. cum on my cock, fuckin’ cum on it.”
and you want want want —
mingyu’s teeth are sharp as he bites down onto your shoulder, digging in. the pain is bright and furious as it slices through you. it’s so startling that your entire body just seems to snap, and then you’re cumming, cumming cumming.
it’s — you don’t even know what it is. all-consuming; electric; overpowering. it’s a cosmos bursting into everything and nothingness.
mingyu stops thrusting as you cum, instead focusing on rubbing at your clit to get you through the orgasm. the loss of sensation has you sobbing once more, fingers twisting into the sheets as you buck your hips.
you try to say something; fail. you try again. “p — please, please —”
mingyu lets out a loud groan. once he’s sure your orgasm has subsided, he withdraws from your cunt. you can’t help but cry at the loss, cry at how empty and gaping your pussy feels.
mingyu manhandles you, twisting your body so your chest is pressing against the mattress and your ass is in the air. he mounts you, cock thrusting inside of you in one swift, almost brutal, movement.
you press your face against the sheets, crying into them. so much is happening. your body is still ringing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but mingyu is fucking you, and it’s so so so much and it’s so so so wonderful.
because you feel so utterly used. you’re just a hole for him at this point, just a pussy for him to fuck and get his full of.
and mingyu does.
mingyu fucks you. there’s no love in it other than the fact he’s fucking his girl, his princess; no love other than the fact you’re his. he fucks you purely to seek his end, to make that burning-hot fever within him snap, and it just so happens the hole he’s using belongs to you.
his hands are strong as they grip your hips, slapping you back onto his dick. he lets out soft pants, deep moans.
“good boy,” he hisses out, mostly air. “‘m your good boy, yeah? fuckin’ you so good, princess. say it. say i’m fucking you so good.”
you fight around the sobs that escape you, and when you speak your words are muffled by the mattress. “fuckin’ me good,” you sob, “my good — good boy, gyu —”
mingyu lets out a low noise, a growl, of satisfaction. he fucks your cunt a few more times, each thrust harsh and quick. the noises are crude, the sound of wet skin against skin, of his dick resisting against the wet suction of your pussy with every pull out.
and then mingyu’s cumming in you. his cum is hot and thick, and as soon as you feel it fill you there’s an overwhelming satisfaction that shoots through you.
you made him cum; he came from your cunt.
mingyu drapes himself over your back, ignoring how your body collapses beneath him. he’s still inside of your pussy, dick plugging your hole and keeping his white cum from dripping out.
he pushes your sweaty hair aside, presses his nose against the shell of your ear. when he speaks his breath is hot against your flesh. “good girl,” he groans, his hips giving a gentle buck into you. “what a good girl you are. you’re my good girl, aren’t you? my babygirl with the fucking perfect little cunt, perfect little pussy.”
you whine, nodding against the mattress. his words echo in your brain: good girl, good girl, good girl.
“say it.”
“‘m your good girl,” you whimper.
mingyu laughs against you, breathless. “yes, you are. and ‘cause you’re my good girl you’ll let me, let your good boy keep fucking your cunt, yeah? let me fill you up?”
your body is exhausted. your mind is exhausted. you can’t think, and you don’t know, quite frankly, how you’re even breathing. absolutely nothing is happening; even your blood seems to slow to a stillness within you, your body overwhelmed to a point of merely existing.
but still:
“my princess is a good girl,” he says, nipping at your ear lobe. “you’ll let me fill you up again, yeah?”
and you are. you are his good girl, are totally, completely his.
{15} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader
Yandere AU & Dragon AU
Genre: 18+ MDNI - Mature, Horror, Angst
Pairing: Ateez X Reader
Words: 6,425
Warnings: There's some mentions of blood and a past massacre, but I think that's all. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: I've been wanting to continue this story for so long now, and I'm glad I'm finally getting back to it. I know a lot of people will be disappointed it's not a PG update, but this story is what's currently at the forefront of my mind. I can't promise updates will be frequent or steady, but I'm itching to write even more as I'm going to post this. Right now, in my mind, this is the story that wants to be told the most. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~
Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen - Mini Masterlist
Two weeks.
It’s been exactly two weeks since the incident took place at Rose Village, and Yeosang has yet to see you at all. No one has kept him away from you, for this is all his own doing. After what happened… what he said… He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to face you again, even if he longs to go to you. To hold you in his arms and fully succumb to the pull of his imprint is all that he desires. He desperately wants to be by your side, but knowing everything he does about how you receive dragons imprinting on you, he’s barely been able to face himself.
Yeosang is not worthy of you, and he knows it. Without a doubt, you deserve better than him, especially at this moment in time.
To say that he was surprised by his own outburst would be an understatement. Of course he was upset at watching that pathetic excuse of a man take a swing at you from behind. He had been feeling off all day, especially with how casual you and Yunho seemed to be with each other. However, he never expected for the slip of his tongue.
Yeosang has always prided himself on his reasoning skills. Observation and deduction have always been his specialties. He can always tell what’s upsetting his brothers before they can even admit it to themselves, and he’s always been able to sense things that others may not yet have come to realize. He may be cool, calm, and collected, but Yeosang has never not been able to figure out what has been bothering himself.
If only he had been more honest with himself. Maybe then he would have finally admitted what had always been creeping beneath the surface. The foreign feelings that weren’t actually all that foreign after all. Ones which he had shoved down deep, refusing to admit how quickly they had built within, until that dam had finally burst.
Instinct had drowned out logic, until the only thought on his mind became protecting you.
You. Someone who had been so guarded when he first met you face to face. Someone who would have let his brother die without a second thought, were it not for how Hongjoong made that stupid deal to leave you alone. A deal which lasted all of a few weeks, in totality.
Looking back on it now, Yeosang doesn’t think any of them could have truly stayed away. Not even if they had actually wanted to.
Yeosang knows you would have killed them all that first night if provoked again. Looking back on it now, he would not have held you to it. You had every right to smite them where they stood. Even more so when San, Wooyoung, and Jongho all broke the original deal. Yet, you spared them. You showed them a kindness Yeosang knows they never have deserved. Least of all from you.
That’s you, though, isn’t it? Your exterior may be as solid as stone, but beneath it all lies a heart that shines likes the most intricate of gems found beneath the earth’s crust. You are as stable as a mountain. Imposing, strong, and unmoving. Dig a little deeper, and one can uncover how fiercely you care. You are not afraid to protect your own, let alone stand your ground. Your love runs deep, and those lucky enough to experience such a delicacy get to see that softer side of you much more often than naught.
A love Yeosang yearns for, even if it’s still difficult for him to admit it to himself.
Jongho had given him an earful the moment they had gotten home. A fact of which irritated the elder dragon, considering how quiet Yunho had been through it all. Yeosang knows that without a doubt, the taller male was in the exact same position as him. He saw the way Yunho’s own eyes flashed a deep gold the moment that disgusting man went to strike you. He was just lucky Yeosang decided to act first.
“You cannot dictate whether or not we imprint on her, Jongho.” It was Hongjoong that had said those words, having been privy to the loud shouting the youngest had been doing. “Sometimes we cannot control our own emotions, let alone our own basic instincts.”
Jongho had stormed out after that, flying off to who knows where. He needed time to sort out his own head and calm down. He knows it’s irrational to take things out on his brothers. Hell, he’s known San and Wooyoung have already imprinted on you, too. They both have been, for quite some time now. Logically, he knows the more of them that imprint on you, the better chance you have of opening yourself up to them. However, there’s a part of him that’s scared.
What if you realize that one or more of his brothers are a better fit for you than he is? What if you realize that he’s never truly been worthy of you?
That night you shared together in your special clearing on top of that cliff flashes through his mind.
Instantly, Jongho knows that he has nothing to worry about. He’s always known his brothers imprinting on you has been a very real possibility, and at first, he had always been open and excited about the idea. Only, after everything you’ve all been through, he’s a little more cautious about the fact. The way some of them had treated you at the start… if they were anyone else, he would have gutted them where they stood. Though, he knows that only you have the final say as to who’s truly worthy of yourself in the end.
You’re starting to care for all of them. That much is true.
Jongho can only hope that out of all of them, he’s the one you accept first. Based on everything that’s already happened, he has a feeling he will be. That is, if you haven’t already begun.
You, on the other hand, have been taking the past two weeks to teach both Mingi and Seonghwa everything that they have missed since Wooyoung and San have begun training under you. The crash course is intense in its own right, the two of them getting frustrated easily when they do not understand something. They both have a lot of catching up to do, but despite a few setbacks - Mingi accidentally almost burning a part of the forest down in his infinite wisdom, and Seonghwa nearly tearing up the Neo’s garden in his rage - the two of them have come a long way.
There is still much to learn, which is exactly why you currently find yourself personally testing them on every different herbal and medicinal mixture that you can. Every now and then, Yunho or Hongjoong will chime in, seeing as they also aren’t as firm in their understandings of tonics and such as Jongho, San, and Wooyoung are. Three dragons of whom sit off to the side at your picnic table, watching on as their brothers wrack their brains to come up with a solution to your hypothetical problem.
“No, no, no,” Yunho frowns, shaking his head. “Mugwort is good for counteracting drowsiness, not inducing it.”
“We’re not trying to induce drowsiness,” Hongjoong frowns. “We’re attempting to expel a foreign body.”
“Why not just used diluted frost berry leaves?”
Mingi turns to face Seonghwa with a frown, “Because we were told this is a scenario where none are available to use.”
Off to the side, both San and Wooyoung shift restlessly over the wooden table they sit upon. San has his legs propped up on the bench, his one knee bouncing continuously. Wooyoung, on the other hand, keeps kicking his foot lightly in the air, seeing as his legs dangle freely off of the side.
“Well, then, why don’t we just make a scenario where we go find some?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” You shake your head, arms crossed over your chest. Observing the four dragons across from you, you meet Seonghwa’s gaze. “There will be times when you will not have easy access to certain plants or remedies. You need to be able to think on your feet, and compensate for that which you lack. You also cannot always rely on your powers. They should always be a last resort in these types of scenarios.”
An exasperated exhale leaves the eldest’s nose, turning back to face the other three males standing beside him. His own arms rest crossed over his chest, foot tapping the earth repeatedly as he wracks his brain for a solution.
“Can we give them a hint?” San practically begs. “Please?”
“No.” A pointed look is sent his way from you. “They need to figure this out on their own. If this scenario were to ever become real, you won’t always be around to help them. They need to learn to be able to take care of themselves without relying on others to do such things for them, or providing them with the immediate answers that they seek.”
Before another word can be said, three presences are making themselves known. All seven of their heads whip in the same direction, watching the tree line until Renjun, Sicheng, and Jungwoo all appear.
“Good.” You hum, nodding once firmly. “You’re all getting better at sensing things.”
In the back of your mind, you wonder if they can sense the other presence creeping closer and closer to your clearing with each passing moment.
“They could sense us coming?” Jungwoo’s eyebrows raise, nearly into his hairline. A playful slap is given onto the back of the male on his right. “Damn, Renjun. Looks like your cloak is slipping if the Halas can sense you.”
“With an ego the size of yours, it’s no surprise that we were sensed.” Renjun deadpans. In a few steps, he crosses the short distance to stand beside you. “How’s the training going?”
Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice how both Sicheng and Jungwoo join San and Wooyoung at the picnic table. Jongho, on the other hand, pushes himself onto his feet from his spot on the bench, walking over to join both you and Renjun.
“Quite well,” You hum, turning your attention back onto the four dragons once more putting their heads together to solve your hypothetical. “If they can answer this correctly, I only have one final question to ask them. The rest, they will have to strengthen on their own.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“They’ve all come a long way.”
Renjun takes a moment to observe you, noticing how you stand completely relaxed. Your arms have long since fallen to your sides, shifting to clasp your hands gently behind your back as you watch the males before you. He knows you’re well aware of your surroundings despite your lax composure, a small, fond smile tugging onto your features. One which he hasn’t seen in over fifty years.
“So have you.”
“Well, your cubs are patiently waiting for your signal.” Sicheng turns his attention from San towards that small group of dragons currently arguing whether bloodroot, or a combination of mint and honey, would be better suited for the scenario you’ve posed. “Don’t be surprised you have a gallery the moment you do.”
“Oh, I fully expect it.” You chuckle, a lightheartedness to your words. “I know you Neos will never pass up an opportunity to watch someone get their ass kicked. Need I remind you of how you all acted during Sungchan’s and Shotaro’s training.”
“How did they act during their training?” Jongho leans in, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. If you’re implying what he thinks you are… Well, Jongho certainly knows he’s not the only one beginning to tremble in excitement.
“Don’t worry about it-“
“Oh, my boys all made bets.” You grin, cutting Renjun off easily. “They had a scoreboard and everything. Was quite amusing to hear Ten and Haechan whining about being bested by the young ones so quickly. They both thought they would last longer.”
“Last longer than who?” San walks over, Wooyoung, Jungwoo, and Sicheng all in tow.
A brief glance is spared at the male standing directly beside you.
“Everyone always underestimates our little Junnie,” Jungwoo playfully tugs the younger male into a headlock, ruffling his hair affectionately.
In one swift movement, Renjun pushes himself free of Jungwoo’s arms. A glare that would normally send your cubs running for one of the other Neos in defence paints his features, only causing Jungwoo to let out a boisterous laugh.
“No one expects him to be our third strongest fighter.” Sicheng hums, watching as clear surprise paints the three Hala dragon’s faces around you. He turns to glance at you. “You’ve trained him well.”
“It’s because you underestimate him that he’s so strong.” You reply, amusement dancing in your eyes as you see smoke beginning to rise consistently from Mingi’s nostrils. “Renjun learned a long time ago to use his opponent’s assumptions about him to his advantage. You could learn a thing or two about that.”
“Already starting your teachings, have we?” Jungwoo grins.
“No. I’ve been waiting for him to arrive.” With a nod of your chin, you motion towards the new male who had walked out of the woods, and is currently standing behind the four arguing dragons. Purposefully, you raise your voice the next time you speak. “Glad you finally decided to join us.”
All heads whip in this newcomer’s direction, and you notice quite a few sharp inhales in surprise. Even both Jungwoo and Sicheng seem shocked as the male freezes in his spot, eyes going wide due to suddenly being stared down by everyone present.
“Yeosang?” Jongho frowns. “When did you get here?”
“He’s been standing there for about two minutes already.” You answer for him, a slight upturn to the corners of your lips. “Been lingering around the area for much longer. I’m surprised none of you have noticed.”
You meet his gaze, nothing how he blinks once in shock. Then, a tight smile is pulling onto his lips, nodding once in acknowledgement.
“Where have you been, mister ‘don’t touch My Fated’?” Jungwoo sasses, hands placed purposefully onto his hips with an eyebrow quirked. “Finally decided to come out of hiding?”
“You know, you’re not the first one to get intimidated by an imprint.” Renjun hums, amusement dancing in his eyes as he stares down the dragon across the way. “Least of all an imprint to her.”
“Yeah, you should have seen Sungchan the day he realized he’d imprinted on her.” Sicheng snickers.
Jungwoo nods, a somewhat playfully solemn expression on his face, “Poor dragon buried himself beneath the ground in embarrassment for almost a month for imprinting on his caretaker.”
“And you didn’t?” You quirk a brow.
Instantly, Jungwoo shrinks in on himself, a vibrant red creeping up his neck and onto his ears. Sicheng only makes it worse, laughing loudly as he wraps his arm around Jungwoo’s shoulders, slapping a hand lightly over his brother’s chest in tandem.
A small wind picks up around the clearing, and you take a moment to observe the dragon standing just in front of the tree line. A neutral expression resides on his face, save for the subtle ticking of his jaw. Both of his hands rest at his sides, his stance lax as stares back at you. Nothing is said between you, the others remaining quiet save for the constant teasing of Jungwoo by Sicheng.
Understanding passes over your features, tilting your head back slightly in acknowledgement.
“No, he hasn’t been hiding,” There’s a clear tone of approval in your voice. One which each male easily picks up on, and that causes the one standing on the opposite end of your clearing to stand a little straighter in his spot. “He’s been honing.”
Very slightly, Yeosang tips his head in acknowledgement to your words. From the way both San and Wooyoung stiffen off to your right, you know that you’re not the only one who’s heard his soft sigh of relief. Even Jongho seems to shuffle lightly on his feet, eyeing his brother carefully from across the way.
“If those other four can finally figure out the solution to my problem, I would be more than interested to see what you’ve taught yourself.”
Again, Yeosang tilts his head, this time in agreement, to your words. There’s the slightest of upturns to his lips in the corners, blinking once. Without wasting another moment, he begins walking over to the four males huddled together.
“What problem are you attempting to solve?”
“Back off, Yeosang.” Mingi frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is our test.”
“Mingi, maybe we should-“
“No.” Mingi cuts Yunho off instantly. “He wasn’t here. He doesn’t just get to waltz in-“
“You’d deny yourself an ally because of your stubbornness?” Your voice, pointed and full of disbelief, kills the words building in Mingi’s throat. “An unexpected resource has become available to you. Use it. It never hurts to accept help. Collaboration efforts, and being able to adapt to new information, are aspects any good leader should have. If you still want to pursue that stupid crown, and be able to rule, you need to learn that. You need to live it.”
Mingi takes a moment to mull over your words, lips pursed the whole time. Then, with a firm nod, he turns his attention back to Yeosang. The taller male wastes no time in explaining the hypothetical situation, the elder dragon nodding along the whole time.
From the stunned looks on Hongjoong’s and Yunho’s faces, they clearly weren’t expecting Mingi to actually listen for once. After another few seconds, they’re able to compose themselves, adding in details to Mingi’s explanation the younger male might have missed or accidentally left out.
“You certainly know how to work miracles,” San breathes, nothing but awe on his features.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho puff out his chest. He even goes so far as to stand a little taller in his spot, a certain type of pride shining within his gaze as he watches Yeosang listening intently to everything his brothers have to say.
“I offered my advice,” You brush off his praise. “Whether he chose to follow it or not is completely up to him.”
“San’s right.” Wooyoung is the next to speak. "Mingi hardly listens to any of us.”
“You know I can hear you guys, right?”
At the irritated look the flaming headed male shoots towards both San and Wooyoung, you hear them both laugh.
“Really? We weren’t aware.” Wooyoung jokes, arms crossed lightly over his chest. “Since he’s listening in, I’ll add that he snores really loudly, too.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t forget the time he sneezed so hard, flames shot out of his nostrils.”
“Choi Jongho, you shut your mouth right now!”
You cannot help it. A soft chuckle escapes your lips, bringing a hand up to cover the lower half of your face in an instant. Getting to see how they all interact with one another reminds you of your Neos. There’s an air of ease that’s settled over you all, and getting glimpses of how they tease one another only further proves that you’re all not so different after all.
Soft looks end up getting sent in your direction, and the moment you sense them staring, you clear your throat. Blinking a few times, you compose yourself, shifting your sharp gaze back to the now five males standing huddled in a circle.
“Well?” You say, expectantly. “Have you solved it, yet?”
A frown mars Yeosang’s features, bringing a hand up to cradle the bottom of his chin in thought.
“Your problem is that one of us has been rendered unconscious through the use of both sweetgrass and cresta leaves. The combination of which releases a slow poison into the bloodstream as it’s absorbed through the stomach.” Yeosang begins speaking, but the more he says, it’s clear that he’s simply thinking out loud.
The way both Wooyoung and San begin practically vibrating in excitement catches the other’s attention.
Looks of realization cross Yunho’s and Hongjoong’s faces, soft sounds of understanding building within their throat. Even Seonghwa begins nodding his head, brow furrowed in thought as he soon mirrors the exact position Yeosang is in with a hand cradling the bottom of his chin.
“There’s a few remedies we could use,” Yeosang begins listing them off. “You’ve indicated we don’t have access to diluted frost berry leaves, so our next best option would be a combination of arrowroot, mugwort, lila flowers, and sage. Alternatively, if we had access to ginger root, brewing some of that in hot water with a mixture of mint, honey, and thistlewart should do the trick.”
A glance in your direction reveals you standing with an impressed look resting on your features. Softly, your head nods along to Yeosang’s words, humming lightly in agreement to his assessment.
“Good.” You flick your gaze between the five of them. “What else?”
This seems to catch Yeosang by surprise. Even both San and Wooyoung look stunned by your response, glancing between you and their brothers lightly. Not even Jongho has an answer for you, the three soon walking over to join the others to continue discussing what other solution they may have.
After a solid ten minutes of discussing, the eight of them are turning to you.
“We don’t-“ Seonghwa grimaces. “We don’t know.”
“And that’s okay. I wasn’t expecting any of you to.” You smile softly. “In fact, I would have been surprised if you did.”
“How are we supposed to answer a question if you know we don’t know the answer?” A slight scowl pulls at Mingi’s features, a rough edge to his voice.
“You knew three out of four solutions to the problem. I was simply curious to see if any of you could surmise the fourth on your own.” You begin walking over to that picnic table off to the side, a casual gait to your steps. “I also needed to know if you could come up with the other mixtures, without relying on the easiest solutions you could ever have at your disposal. Of course, there are multiple ways in which you can tackle any problem. There always have been, and there always will be. Even when there only seems like there is one way out, sometimes, you just have to make your own.”
Reaching the bench, you perch yourself comfortably on the edge. You sit with your hands resting lightly over your thighs, noticing how Jungwoo, Renjun, and Sicheng all join you without a word. The other eight dragons all step closer, standing across from you with mild furrows to their brows.
“Has your eldest told you what type of dragon he is, yet?”
Quite a few curious glances are sent Seonghwa’s way. The only few who don’t seem confused for the moment are Hongjoong and Jongho.
“But Seonghwa doesn’t have a personalized power.” Yeosang frowns.
“He does.”
“What?” Mingi’s disbelief is clear in his voice. “Since when?”
“Since the day he was born.”
“How is that possible?” Yunho turns to look at the eldest beside him. “What power have you always had?”
At the way Seonghwa fidgets from foot to foot, looking bashfully down at the ground at his feet, you quirk a brow.
“Would you like to tell them, or should I?”
Seonghwa lifts his gaze, briefly glancing at his clan mates on either side of him.
“Poison.” His voice is small, but there’s no denying the soft smile that begins to tug onto his lips. “I’ve always been a dragon with the power of poison.”
“That’s great, Hwa!” San instantly begins beaming, clapping the elder man on his back.
“What a cool power!” Wooyoung nods, mirroring the large smile on San’s face instantly. “That’s incredible!”
Hongjoong and Jongho both seem to stand a little straighter, nothing but affection dripping from their gazes as they admire the male standing beside them. Even Yunho and Yeosang look impressed, smiles stretching onto their faces as they voice their congratulations to the dragon they have known for decades.
Still, that frown never once leaves Mingi’s features. “That’s great and all, but how does knowing Seonghwa’s power is that of poison help us in this situation?”
Amusement dances within your eyes, looking from one male to the next expectantly. Only, after a full minute of them all staring back at you, standing with seemingly bated breath, you chuckle.
“Because of the type of dragon he is, Seonghwa’s blood is a natural antidote to almost any type of toxin you can think of. Well, all except for my own.”
The shock is clear on all of their faces, Mingi, San, and even Yunho gaping at this new information. Yeosang’s eyebrows raise in consideration, both Hongjoong and Jongho soon humming lightly while nodding their heads. Seonghwa, on the other hand, still appears quite bashful. A look you honestly did not think the male was capable of.
“So, we could always use Seonghwa’s blood as a backup if all else fails!” Wooyoung gasps, nodding in understanding.
“Why not just use his blood all the time?” Mingi asks, as if the answer should be obvious. “If his blood is a natural antidote, then shouldn’t we just keep it in reserve for emergencies?”
“No.” The stern tone of your voice catches them all by surprise. “You should never do that.”
This time, it’s Seonghwa’s turn to frown. “Why not?”
“How many poison dragons have you ever met in your lifetime?”
They each take a moment to think.
“Not many.” Jongho is the one to answer for them all, sparing a brief look towards his brothers.
“There’s a reason for that.” Renjun sighs, both Sicheng and Jungwoo suddenly looking quite solemn.
“Tell me, Young Ones, have you ever heard of the Paladin Raids?”
They each shake their heads.
“I’ll admit, we’re unaware of such raids.” Hongjoong is the one to speak, a slight grimace pulling onto his features.
“I’m not surprised. There’s aren’t very many left who remember them. They took place before I was born, over five and a half centuries ago. The only reason I am aware of them is because of my Uncle Ken. As vigorous as my physical training and the like were, he also ensured that I was well versed in our history, and the history of our land. Amongst other subjects, of course.”
“Will we ever get to meet this uncle of yours?” Yunho quirks a brow, a lightheartedness to his tone.
“That has yet to be seen.” The corner of your lips quirk, but none of them fail to miss the way your gaze darts over to linger on Jongho’s figure.
Said male straightens in his spot, a small, bashful smile tugging at his features.
In the next moment, your expression is turning serious once more.
“There used to be many more poisonous dragons in the world than there are now. It used to be a well known fact amongst our kind that their blood could cure almost any toxin that there was. Of course, these specific antidotes were only meant to be used as a last resort. My Uncle can recount many instances where his friends used to be asked for their blood all of the time by desperate, unknown dragons. Many would accept to help their kin, even if they had never met. Not all of us are as adept at healing or fighting ailments as those born with such abilities. Not all of us take the opportunity to learn.”
You can tell you have their rapt attention, your three Neos remaining silent as they let you speak.
“It was only a matter of time before that information fell into the wrong hands.” A slight grimace pulls onto your features, lips tugging downwards significantly in the corners. “The S’ber hunters-“
A deep, guttural snarl tears from Jongho’s throat, his eyes flashing a deep gold. Lips curl over suddenly sharp fangs in a snarl, claws unsheathing as his fingers flex at his sides.
You shoot him a pointed look before continuing. A look which not just Yeosang picks up on.
“The S’ber hunters are some of the most ruthless and vile of them all. Long since have they hated our kind, searching for the ancients nests in hopes to destroy us all.” You take a deep breath in through your nose, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “Once they found out about the antidotal properties of those specific types of dragons’ blood, they realized how useful it could be.”
Sharp inhales are heard from all eight of them. Yet, none are as loud as Seonghwa’s, Yeosang’s, or Hongjoong’s. Yunho’s throat works, swallowing thickly as his entire body goes still. In fact, you can tell just from the way that he freezes that he’s momentarily forgotten how to breathe.
“Many poisonous dragons were captured and bled dry, the S’ber’s hoarding their blood in reserves. Normally, these hunters will not outright kill a dragon should they capture one. They will torture them until they are content with the outcome. Whether that be through the retrieval of information they have long since desired, or death, it does not matter. The only exception being dragons with a poisonous nature. It was far easier for them to bleed them dry than to keep them alive and wait for them to procure more blood.”
Gently, you clasp your hands in front of your face, lacing your fingers together as you peer up at each of them. The horror painted on their features perfectly mimics your own, back when you had first learned of the atrocity of the Paladin Raids.
“Luckily for us, but unfortunately for them, the S’ber hunters were not aware that our blood only has a certain shelf life. It cannot survive for longer than ten days outside of its host. They did not, and still do not, possess the magic needed to store such a delicacy. They can never.” Then, after a moment. “They will never.”
“Those raids started with the systematic hunting and bleeding of poison dragons across the land. Once the S’ber’s learnt of the short shelf life of our blood outside of our bodies, they took their rage out on us without remorse.” Your voice drops, deepening slightly with the weight of your emotions. “The only peace of mind we have from that time is knowing that the dragons that had been suffering in their captivity were finally set free in death. They slaughtered hundreds of us in retaliation, and once they had no more prisoners to torture, they set out to enslave new ones.”
A choked sob reaches your ears, and you turn your head to see Sicheng barely keeping himself together. Tears stream freely from his eyes, a hand slapped over his mouth as his entire body begins shaking.
Instantly, your arm is around him, pulling him into your side. Softly, you begin cooing while running your fingers through his hair, letting Sicheng openly sob into your chest as he hides his face against you.
“May I tell them?” Your voice is much softer than mere moments before as you whisper the question down at Sicheng.
His nod is all the confirmation you need.
Lifting your head, your lips tug downwards solemnly.
“Sicheng lost both of his grandparents, and his eldest aunt during the Paladin Raids. He almost lost his father, too."
Glancing back at the eight Halas before you, you notice that Sicheng is not the only one with tears in his eyes. Both San and Wooyoung cry openly, holding onto each other for support. Yunho, like Sicheng, holds a hand over the lower half of his face, eyes shining as he attempts to steady his breathing.
A silent path of tears cut down the sides of Seonghwa’s cheeks, the eldest pursing his lips tightly to keep his chin from wobbling. Hongjoong rests his hand over Seonghwa’s back, his expression completely stoic as he just manages to keep his composure. Even Mingi’s expression has hardened, his jaw twitching as he stares right past you at the forest behind your back.
The only two without tears in their eyes are Jongho and Yeosang.
Despite his calm exterior, you can see the storm raging inside of Yeosang’s eyes. His throat works as he swallows thickly, hands balling into fists at his sides. Jongho, instead, looks ready to tear something apart. His whole body shakes in rage, the familiar static of electricity buzzing lightly throughout the air. That scowl hasn’t once left his face, fangs still peeking out from behind curled lips.
“So, no,” You reiterate, lifting your gaze to meet Mingi’s own. “You should never keep Seonghwa’s blood in reserve in case of emergencies. Not only because of its short shelf life, but because of all of his kin that have been taken and drained due to what they are. If you want to ensure that his antidotal blood is always there when you absolutely need it, then you need to ensure his survival. He is apart of your clan, and you are his. You survive if he survives, and he survives if you all survive. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Yeosang, Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi all instantly answer at once.
“We understand.” Hongjoong nods once, firmly.
“Good.” You return his nod, noticing how Sicheng begins to slowly calm down. His sobs are quieting, breathing evening out the longer you go threading your fingers gently through his hair.
Taking a moment to look over the eight Hala dragons before you, you ensure to meet each of their gazes. As you do so, they stand a little straighter in their spots, nodding their both confirmation and understanding.
Finally, your gaze lands on the eldest standing before you.
“You need to promise to stop being so reckless. You’re more important than you realize.” You release your hold on Sicheng as he sits upright, refusing to tear your gaze away from Seonghwa’s own. “I say this to my cubs all the time, but it still holds true for you. You are always worth more than you will ever know.”
“I promise.” Seonghwa’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, clearing his throat in the next moment. “I promise you that I’ll never take my life granted again.”
“Don’t promise me,” You shake your head lightly, a soft smile tugging onto your lips. Briefly, your gaze flits around at the seven other men standing beside him. “Promise them.”
Immediately, Seonghwa turns to face the seven other members of his clan. Nothing but sincerity rests on his features as a deep magic begins swirling through the air, emanating from his very being.
“I promise,” Seonghwa begins, keeping his voice steady and strong, “To stop acting like a pompous ass all the time, and to become a person that you can all rely on whenever you may need me. I will not allow my fear of inadequacy control me any longer. I will, however, always strive to be worthy of this clan, and of those that have put their faith in me. My life is as important to me now, as yours have always been. I will never let you down again. This I swear on my very soul.”
A moment of silence passes over the entire clearing as Seonghwa’s promise rings true. All you can do is sit there, observing the scene before you with a semi-amused look on your face. Not only that, but pride.
Hongjoong turns to face the dragon beside him, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of Seonghwa’s neck. A position of which the eldest mirrors in the blink of an eye. Neither say anything as they tilt their heads forwards, foreheads resting against each other as a deep understanding passes through them all.
Still, that deep magic lingers within the air.
“As I promise to do the same,” Hongjoong voices lowly, eyes beginning to glow with that familiar gold as he stares into Seonghwa’s own. “With all that I am, I swear to you that you will never have to suffer alone. I will lead you all to the best of my abilities, but I cannot do this alone. I will be right by your sides, as I hope with everything I am that you will all be right by mine. You are my clan, as I am yours. I will never let any of you traverse this path without me. We are in this together, guiding each other through it all, and I would not have it any other way.”
The other six immediately gather around the two eldest, both Seonghwa and Hongjoong pulling away from each other momentarily. You watch on as they release their holds over the backs of their necks, and instead opt to clasp their opposite hands together. The tips of their fingers curl around each other, locked in a sacred hold as one by one, the others add their touch to their joined hands.
As each male grabs onto either Seonghwa’s or Hongjoong’s hand in the centre of their little circle, they utter but two words.
“I promise.”
Once the last male has connected, that magic swirls around them, converging at the point of contact where their hands meet. It surrounds them on all sides, seemingly getting sucked into a vortex emanating from the centre of their small circle. Then, once it has all been collected, it explodes outwards, washing over all eight of them like stardust falling from the heavens above.
With nothing other than a smile on your face, you watch such a sacred bond form right before your very eyes.
For a moment, nothing is said. Instead, you allow the lingering traces of their newly formed Drygg Promise to dissipate. You can tell that you’re not the only one pleased by this turn of events, smiles being worn by all parties involved as they finally break from their small circle. Happy sniffles greet your ears, many a man clapping each other on the back lightly.
Almost subconsciously, you begin to nod.
“Good.” You hum, your voice drawing their attention back to you instantly. “Now that that’s settled, you should all head home and get some rest. The next couple of days will be intense, and you will need to reserve your strength. Ensure that you’re not late. Tomorrow, your physical training begins.”
Warning(s) - smut, unprotected sex, p in v, use of restraints/bindings, multiple orgasms
Summary - Magic and mischief collide when your unstable spells entangle you with New York’s favorite web-slinger. Between chaos, charm, and a sticky mess of soda and flirtation, Mark brings lightness to a world you’re still learning how to control. But even as sparks fly, some feelings are more dangerous than magic itself.
Word Count - 6.7k
Author’s Note - This was inspired by a dream I had of Mark spilling soda on me lol
Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls (join my taglist!)
Written for the Modern Magics Collab originally hosted by @rosyrenjun. Also part of the Action Figures Collab hosted by @sungbeam.
Now playing: Tasty - NCT 127
You had been sent on your first solo mission under the orders of the teachers at Kamar-Taj. There had been multiple energy anomalies across the world and you were assigned to investigate the one in New York. The portal you made was supposed to open above a rooftop in Brooklyn. Instead, you stumbled out of the glowing orange ring midair, slamming directly into someone else also in midair.
“WOAH–HEY–!”
You collided with them in a tangle of limbs, wind, and some sticky substance, crashing ungracefully onto a rooftop with a loud thud. The world tilted, causing you to blink rapidly through the dizzy blur of magic sparks and scraped palms. When your vision finally cleared, you found that someone was staring at you, upside down.
The red suit. The webbing details. The large white lenses.
SpiderMan.
“Uh…” he tilted his head. “Are you a cosplay emergency?”
You stared at him. “Excuse me?”
He gestured vaguely to your robe, now disheveled and revealing the sling rings on your fingers. “Stunt got outta hand? Fell off the roof? Happens more than you’d think.”
You sat up slowly, trying to tug your robe back into place with whatever dignity you had left. “It was a portal I opened that was slightly–just slightly–off target.”
“So…you’re not here to kill me?”
You scoffed at him. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t even aiming for you?”
Mark–though you didn’t know his name yet–flopped down beside you. “Well, I guess welcome to Brooklyn, magic girl. Got a name?”
You brushed dirt from your sleeves. “Not one I give to strangers who interrupt my training.”
The large white lenses narrowed as he squinted at you. “I think you interrupted me, technically. I was chasing an actual bad guy. You kind of…uh…” He made a small crashing motion with his hands. “Broke my momentum.”
You winced. “Right. Sorry about that.”
He waved it off with a grin. “No big deal, Kind of used to the weird at this point.”
“That’s…not comforting.”
“I know. But it makes this-” he gestured to your Kamar-Taj standard issue robe, “feel kind of on-brand.”
Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. Mark looked pleased with himself.
“So,” he began, standing up and offering you a hand, “wanna try again? You can tell me your name, and I promise I won’t web you unless you ask nicely.”
You blinked at his hand, then took it. His grip was warm and surprisingly strong for someone who just broke your landing. You let him help you up, then immediately dropped his hand, pushing your sling rings further up your fingers.
“You’re not from around here, huh?” he asked, peering at the orange sparks from the barely-open portal behind you. You didn’t answer. Your fingers flicked in a subtle motion, testing the integrity of your energy. “Seriously,” he continued, head tilting. “I’ve seen Doctor Strange do some weird sparkly stuff before, but you’ve got a whole different vibe going.”
You rolled your eyes. “Doctor Strange is a master. I’m not…yet.”
“So you’re like…a junior wizard?”
You bristled at his comment. “I’m a disciple of the mystic arts, not some Harry Potter sidekick.”
“Okay, okay,” he surrendered quickly, raising both hands.
You shot him a flat look and turned to scan the skyline, mentally refocusing and trying to see if you could feel any disturbance in the energy fields. You still needed to track the anomaly you’d come for.
“Right, well,” he started, trying not to sound too curious, “if you’re not gonna tell me your name, maybe you could at least tell me why you fell out of a portal.”
You ignored the question and honed in on a wave of energy pulsing from somewhere in your peripheral. Bingo.
SpiderMan stepped closer. “Hey, look, I’m not trying to mess up your wizard internship or whatever, just making sure you’re not about to summon a bad guy or open a portal to some dark dimension.”
“If I were, you’d already be webbed to the wall by your own shooters.” Your fingers flexed, feeling out the current of the energy, mapping out how strong it was and how far away it was.
He paused, blinking. “Okay, rude.”
You gave him a sly glance and turned to open a new portal, this time with sharper precision. The orange light rippled open in a perfect circle. Before stepping through, you looked over your shoulder. He was still watching you, head cocked like he hadn’t quite figured you out yet.
“Try not to crash into anything else tonight,” you said lightly.
“Try not to fall out of any more portals, sorcerer girl.” You smirked, then stepped through the ring of sparks, and disappeared. Mark stood there for a second longer, muttering to himself. “Definitely not a cosplay emergency.”
The portal dropped you straight into the atrium of the New York Sanctum which greeted you with its usual eerie quiet, the kind of stillness that hummed just under the skin. You watched the portal disappear and took in the appearance of the halls that seemed to stretch on forever, where the dust never settled and the shadows shifted just a little too slowly.
Wong stood near a relic case, inspecting a glowing scroll with furrowed brows. He didn’t look up as you approached. “You were supposed to land in Manhattan, not Brooklyn.”
“I did,” you replied quickly. “Eventually.”
Wong sighed without turning. “And?”
You straightened. “There was a pulse of dimensional interference. Nothing that resembled a rift, but enough to displace a portal. Brief but localized. Brooklyn.”
Now he looked at you. “That’s the third one this month. One of the minor wards in that area weakened, again. I’ve reinforced it, but it shouldn’t have caused your portal to slip unless…”
You winced. “Unless my magic wasn’t perfect.”
Wong nodded grimly. “We don’t aim for perfection. But we do aim for stability.”
“I understand. I will continue to practice my skills.”
He returned his gaze to the scroll. “Your instructors will want a full written report. Return to Kamar-Taj once you’ve cleaned yourself up.”
You were about to nod and open up a portal when a loud thump echoed from the entryway. You turned to the source of the noise. “Oh, come on.”
SpiderMan stood sheepishly near the entrance, closing the large doors behind him.
Wong glanced at him once before going back to the relic. “Why is he here?”
Mark pointed at you. “She dropped out of the sky. I figured that counted as a New York Sanctum problem.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I had it under control.”
Mark tilted his head. “You also kind of landed on me. Pretty sure that makes it my jurisdiction too.”
Wong looked between the two of you with the exhausted patience of someone who’s seen a lot of magical nonsense. “Sort out whatever you need to, just keep him out of the relic room.”
“Got it,” you muttered, grabbing Mark by the wrist and dragging him down a side corridor. He didn’t resist, just followed along with an amused grin beneath the mask.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed as you shoved open the heavy doors of the library.
“Yeah, I got that vibe. But also? You didn’t say goodbye.”
You rolled your eyes. “Because it wasn’t a date, Spider-Boy.”
He placed a hand on his chest, mocking disbelief. “Ow. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t summoning any bad guys. Or, you know, dying.”
“I wasn’t,” you said dryly. “But thanks for the concern.”
Mark wandered deeper into the library as you gathered a few scrolls to double-check the incantations you had learned recently. The tall arched ceilings flickered with candlelight–magical, of course–and several relics sat locked in glass along the wall.
It should have been peaceful. Except Mark was already touching things.
“Don’t–” You turned just in time to see his fingers graze the edge of a floating book, hovering just inches above a table.
“Touch that?” he offered innocently.
Too late.
The book snapped open, glowing with a shimmering orange script. Behind it, every other book on the table began to rattle. One by one, they rose into the air, pages fluttering, enchanted bindings glowing with energy.
“Oh, great–” you groaned, flinging out a sigil to bring the books back down. It backfired, turning the room into a cyclone of magical texts. Books and pages zipped past your ears.
Mark yelped. “What the–?!” He shot a web at one of the spinning tomes, only for the line to veer off and stick squarely to your hip. Before you could react, he got dragged forward, crashing into you and tangling you both in an ungraceful, magical heap.
You stared up at him, his chest against yours, one of your legs trapped between his, his mask slightly askew. He was breathing hard. “Okay, wow. Um–”
“You are the worst magical anomaly I’ve ever encountered.”
Mark’s grin returned. “But admit it, you were a little impressed by the web shot.”
You rolled your eyes, trying–and failing–to push him off. The webbing on your hip held tight. Your hands were stuck somewhere between the two of you.
He looked down at the mess. “Okay, uh, I didn’t mean to make this weird but it might take me a while to get the webbing off you.”
The books began to slowly settle, pages flapping gently to the floor around you. One of them landed open beside your head, the page glowing faintly with the sigil you had cast. You reached toward it, only for Mark to shift with you, knocking his forehead against yours.
“Ow,” you groaned.
“Sorry, sorry, reflexes, you know?”
You sighed. “Just hold still, will you?” With a flick of your wrist and a whispered incantation, the web binding snapped cleanly and you pushed him off, dusting yourself with unnecessary force.
He stayed where he was, lounging against the floor like the library didn’t just attack both of you. “So…not a date, huh?”
You looked down at him, trying to hold back the reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Still not a date.”
He pointed up at the floating orbs of light. “Felt kinda date-ish.”
You turned, walking back to your scrolls before he could see your smile growing. “Don’t touch anything else, Spider-Boy.”
“Can’t promise that,” he murmured with a grin.
You brought him with you to Kamar-Taj. You didn’t mean to, not exactly. But when you opened the portal to head back, he was standing close, and you didn’t say no.
The energy of the monastery greeted you the second your boots hit the stone. A cool wind swept through the open courtyards, tugging at the folds of your robe.
Mark looked around like he had stepped into a movie set. “Whoa. Okay. This is…a lot of sandstone and old things.”
“Don’t touch anything,” you warned automatically.
“Do I look like someone who would–”
You gave him a look.
He closed his lips under the mask. “Right. No touching.”
You led him quickly through the lower halls toward your private quarters, more of a modest apartment than anything grand. It had a kitchen corner, a low bed, and a balcony that overlooked the mountain range far beyond the boundary wards.
“I have to check in with the instructors,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward the corridor. “Stay here. Seriously. Stay.”
Mark held up both hands in surrender, though you didn’t miss the inkling of mischief he held. “I promise.” You narrowed your eyes at him before slipping out the door.
By the time you returned ten minutes later, pushing your door open, Mark was sprawled on your small couch, mask tossed on the coffee table like it didn’t hold one of New York’s biggest secrets. His hair was messy from the cowl, cheeks slightly flushed. In one hand was a half-empty can of bright pink soda.
“Watermelon,” he said cheerfully, raising the can in a greeting. “Hope you don’t mind. Fridge was calling to me.”
You stared. “You–you’re in my room. Drinking my soda. With your mask off.”
He grinned. “A trade. My face…for your name.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not fair. You already knew what I looked like.”
“Okay, fine,” he leaned back, one arm slung lazily across the cushions. “Name for a name?”
You crossed your arms but relented. “You first.”
“Mark,” he stated easily. “Mark Lee. From Queens, New York.”
You hummed as if caught in thought. “I’m not calling you Mark until I decide if I like you after everything you put me through.
“Ouch.”
You sat next to him after grabbing your own soda from the refrigerator. “You know, I’m technically not supposed to have soda in here either, by the way.”
He gave a mock gasp. “A sorcerer and a rebel? This can’t be.”
You ignored the heat crawling up your neck. “So. SpiderMan. What’s it like being a superhero?”
Mark shrugged, taking another sip. “It’s weird. Sometimes it’s all adrenaline and saving people and swinging through traffic like a total badass, and then I get home and crash so hard I forget to take the suit off. I still have calculus homework, you know?”
You stopped mid-sip. “Wait–you have homework?”
“Comes with being a student,” he deadpanned. “I’d assume you’re familiar with that as a student of the mystic arts and all.”
You laughed. “Fair.”
There was a beat of silence before he asked, more softly, “and what about you? Why sorcery?”
You glanced down at the rim of your soda can. “It’s complicated. I didn’t choose it, not exactly. I was…pulled in after something happened. Magic gave me control again, or at least the illusion of it.”
He tilted his head. “And now?”
You looked up at him. “Now, I’m just trying to be good enough not to burn a dimensional hole in the multiverse.”
“Low bar,” he teased.
You cracked a smile. “Want to see something I’ve been working on?”
His eyes lit up instantly. “Yes.”
You set your soda aside, wiped your hands on your robe, and stood next to the table. “Okay,” you breathed, fingers lifting, poised. “It’s a simple whip spell, meant to be used in combat or to grab objects.”
Mark leaned in, elbows on his knees, watching you like it was the most exciting thing he’d seen all day. You said the incantation in your head, willing the whip into existence, twisting your wrist just right as orange energy flared across your palm. A shimmering Eldritch whips unfurled midair, lashing towards a notebook left on the table.
The whip wrapped around the notebook just as planned, except Mark had set his soda down right next to it. The whip snagged the notebook and the rim of the can in its path. The notebook flew neatly off the table into your grasp, meanwhile, the soda can was sent hurtling at you.
Mark shot a web at the can, slamming it back down onto the table but it was too late, the damage had been done. The sticky, carbonated pink liquid was sprayed across your chest, your sleeves, and your face. You were frozen in place as it dripped from your jaw onto the floor.
Mark blinked. “Oh…crap.”
You turned to him slowly, shooting him a deadly glare. “You had one job.”
He looked like he wanted to laugh. Very badly. “I–I’m so sorry.” His mouth twitched. “Look, technically the soda wasn’t a relic.”
You didn’t move, you just peeled the front of your shirt from your skin with a faint squelch. “Well?” you said with an edge to your voice. “Clean it up.”
Mark raised a brow. “You’re serious?”
You lifted your chin, challenging him. “You made the mess, you clean it up.”
His expression was unreadable as he stood and stepped close. “Okay,” he said, voice dropping a little. “But if I do it…I’m doing it my way.”
Your breath caught as he reached out and touched your jaw first, tenderly, like he was checking for resistance. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in, brushing his mouth against the corner of your lips where a drop of soda clung. Then lower, sweeping his tongue against your collarbone, leaving a warm trail in his wake. You yelped at the sudden contrast in temperature between his tongue and the cool of the soda.
Mark looked up at you through his lashes. “Still mad?” You didn’t answer.
He kissed down your throat, each pass of his lips followed by a swirl of breath and heat. One hand cupped your waist, the other trailing beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips sticky and curious.
Magic sparked across your skin, literally. Golden threads of latent energy danced over your shoulder, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat. “Mark…” you warned.
He smiled. “You told me to clean it up.” And then his mouth was on you again, hot and deliberate, tasting, teasing, sliding lower as your legs threatened to give out.
His lips grazed the curve beneath your collarbone and he lingered there, tongue flicking out to catch a drop, and then he leaned back just far enough to meet your eyes. His voice was soft, almost boyish. “Can I…?”
You blinked. “Can you…what?”
His cheeks began to turn the faintest shade of pink while he scratched behind his ear. “I mean, I wanna keep going, but if this is like, a ‘haha clean it up’ joke, I’m gonna…respectfully back away. With a lot of self-control.”
The corners of your mouth tugged upwards. “You’re asking permission?”
“Yeah,” he huffed, suddenly a little breathless. “I mean, I just met you today. You’re magic. And also, very–uh–” His eyes darted to where your soaked top clung to your chest. “Very distracting.”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “And if I say yes?”
Mark gave you a crooked smile. “Then I’ll keep going. Slowly. Carefully. Perhaps a little clumsily. But still with maximum effort. I won’t leave a drop behind.”
You bit your lip and nodded. “Go ahead.”
He exhaled a soft laugh, then hooked his fingers under the hem of your shirt. “Okay,” he murmured. “I got this.”
You raised your arms, helping him peel the shirt off your head. The fabric clung for a moment, then came free with a tug, hitting the floor in a damp heap. Cool air brushes your skin as you rid yourself of your equally wet bra.
Mark’s gaze dropped, reverent, wide-eyed. He swallowed, hard. “Whoa.”
You flushed under his stare, resisting the urge to fold your arms. “You’re staring.”
“Because I’m trying to memorize everything,” he said honestly.
You let him look a moment longer, then leaned close enough for your breath to ghost against his neck. “Your turn.”
Mark’s fingers worked at his suit with growing urgency, but it was clear he wasn’t used to doing this part with someone watching. The way the fabric stuck, the way it bunched around at his waist, it was like undressing a second skin. You didn’t say anything, instead, you simply watched, amused, as he tried to tug the upper half off without tripping over himself.
“I swear this thing wasn’t designed to be sexy,” he muttered, struggling with a seam at his ribs.
You gave him a sly smile. “It’s growing on me.”
Mark shot you a look, then finally wrangled the fabric down past his hips and thighs, the fabric dropping in a defeated heap at his ankles. He stepped out of it awkwardly, suddenly very naked and very aware of your eyes on him.
You didn’t say anything but let your gaze drag slowly down his body, taking into appreciation the defined lines of his muscles and his cock, already half-hard. “Okay,” he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck, “now I feel totally underdressed for a sorcery demonstration.”
“Oh, we’re not demonstrating anything yet.” You turned without waiting, walking toward your bed with a quiet confidence he hadn’t seen from you before.
Mark followed, not bothering to hide how stunned he was by the whole situation. You sat at the edge of the bed and reached for him, coaxing him down until his knees hit the mattress and he was inches from you, skin warm and flushed and visibly trying not to squirm under your attention.
You gently pushed him down onto the bed, watching his eyes darken the second his back hit the sheets. You touched him softly at first, a brush of your fingers, a deliberate drag of your palm against his chest, and you felt him respond to each one with a shiver or a sharp inhale. You kissed down his body, his solid abs, along his hip bone, causing him to unintentionally jerk.
“Shit,” he whispered, bracing one hand against the headboard. “You’re really gonna kill me.”
You didn’t answer. Your mouth traveled lower, lips parting, using your tongue to caress his length, slow and teasing, making him fully harden under your touch.
But he didn’t stay still. The second your lips wrapped around his tip, he bucked his hips upward, groaning as though he couldn’t help it. The first time, you let it slide. The second time, it made you gag slightly, pulling back with a small cough and a narrowed glare.
“Sorry–!” he gasped, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean to–You just–It’s kind of hard to–”
You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you lifted one glowing hand, fingers tensed at the ready. “Then stop moving.”
With a crackle of golden energy, an Eldritch whip unfurled midair, radiant and precise, and in a flash, it had looped once around his hips, another one going around his wrists, yanking them above his head and anchoring his hands against the wooden headboard.
Mark yelped, startled. “Wait–what the–?!”
You looked up at him, utterly unbothered. “You’re not in danger,” you said lightly. “Unless you move again.”
He stared down at himself, blinking at the restraint now keeping him completely still and completely at your mercy. “Oh my god,” he whispered.
You took his length in your grasp, feeling him hot and heavy in your palm. “Is this okay?” He nodded mutely, breathing going ragged.
You leaned in again, slower this time. With him bound in place, you could take your time, easing his length into your mouth while tracing your fingertips down his ribs, watching him twitch slightly, then still. Your mouth worked on his cock, tasting the saltiness of his skin while pressing against the thick vein on the bottom of him. Your hands continued roaming across his body, feeling the tension in his thighs and the way his hips flexed against the binding with every small movement.
“Still doing okay?” you asked sweetly, lips brushing against the inside of his thigh.
He groaned. “S-so good.”
The praise made you smile before taking him in your mouth again, deeper, all while never once letting him buck upward again. The whip flared faintly, keeping him perfect still, just as you liked. With him bound and still, you could savor every flick of your tongue, every muffled breath that caught in his throat. His wrists strained slightly against the glowing restraints above his head, a halo of golden light illuminating his knuckles. The Eldritch whip shimmered against his skin, the energy humming in response to your pulse.
“Holy–” Mark’s voice cracked as you circled his tip with your tongue, his head tipping back against the pillow. “You’re…insane.”
You hummed around him, letting the vibrations course down his length. His thighs tensed again, trying to shift, but the binds held him firm. Every time he instinctively tried to move, the whip pulsed tighter, warning but never cruel. It made him groan, louder this time, desperation catching up with him.
“Please,” he rasped, breathless, eyes glassy. “I’m not gonna last.”
You pulled back just far enough to look at him, lips slick and curved into a smile. “That’s kind of the point.”
Your hand stroked the base of him with a steady rhythm while your mouth returned to the head, circling and teasing, coaxing him right to the edge. He was trembling now, breath ragged, cheeks flushed.
When it finally hit him, when his body tensed so tight he couldn’t speak, you didn’t stop. You swallowed around him, taking him through every shudder, every moan he let out, muffled against his arm as his climax crested through him, powerful and raw. His hands clenched against the bindings, and you stayed with him the whole way down, only letting go when the rise and fall of his chest evened out.
You released his wrists from the whip with a flick of your wrists, the magical restraints disappearing into thin air. Mark sagged into the bed with a dull thud, boneless, his eyes half-lidded and dazed.
“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb along his jaw.
He exhaled a laugh, still catching his breath. “I think I saw a different plane of existence.”
You chuckled, then leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Good.”
When you moved to stand, his hand caught yours, pulling you gently back. “Hey,” he murmured, voice still hoarse. “We’re not done, right?”
You raised a brow, amused. “You sure you’re up for more?”
Mark grinned, wide and lazy. “I’m a superhero, remember? Helping people out is part of the job.”
You let him tug you into the sheets beside him, your bodies tangling together, legs brushing under the covers. He reached for you then, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, slipping under the waistband of your bottoms. He helped you out of them, leaving nothing separating your body from his.
Mark’s mouth found you again as he hovered above you, except this time it was less playful and more deliberate. There was no teasing quip behind his lips now, only heat and hesitation, the kind that came with gravity. His palm slid to the back of your neck, holding you steady, thumb brushing your jaw as if asking one more time, ‘are you sure?’
You kissed him first.
It wasn’t a rushed thing. You pressed into him gently, mouths meeting in the softest of promises. Your lips parted in perfect rhythm, and the moment you deepened it, just enough to taste him, his breath hitched and something in the room shifted.
The air felt charged again. Not just with magic, but with want. With choice.
When he pulled away, his eyes immediately fell to yours. “We really just met today.”
You nodded, gaze steady. “Yeah.”
His hand still cupped your jaw. “If you want me–right now–I’m yours.”
You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. Your hands reached up at his waist, pulling him down over you. You could feel him hardening again between your legs, slow but eager, and you wrapped your thighs loosely around his hips, guiding him closer.
He pressed into you, his length sliding through your folds, wet with anticipation, using your slick to coat himself. The head of him nudged at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you each time. His head fell to your shoulder just from the feeling of your warmth and wetness against him, already sensitive from his previous release.
But nothing could compare to the moment when he entered you, carefully, both of you falling short of breath. It wasn’t because of the stretch or the heat, though there was that too, but rather, it was from feeling each other, in full, for the first time.
He paused, halfway in, branching himself on trembling arms. “God, you feel–”
You reached up, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “Keep going.”
Mark moved with you, setting deeper, inch by inch until he was fully seated inside you. One of his hands slipped beneath your thigh, hiking it up against his waist for leverage, the other curling into the sheets beside your head.
You exhaled, shaky and overwhelmed from feeling so full. “Don’t hold back.”
His hips rolled into yours in a steady rhythm, unhurried like he was memorizing the way your body fit around him. His mouth grazed your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, all while he whispered things you couldn’t quite catch. Nonsense and reverence, all mixed together.
When he hit a particularly sensitive spot in you, you clenched around him, causing his pace to falter. “Fuck–do that again–” You did and he let out the most obscene moan you’ve ever heard from a man.
The bed creaked beneath you, a quiet counterpoint to your shared breath, to the soft moans that spilled against each other’s skin. Your nails raked lightly down his back, and his hips stuttered forward in response. Each particularly hard thrust made your magic flicker, tiny sparks flaring along your fingers like little fireworks.
He caught your lips again, kissing you rougher, hungrier, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted more, your kiss or your body. Maybe both.
You felt him begin to lose control. His grip on your thigh tightened, his pace quickened, less measured now. A low noise rumbled from his chest as he buried himself deeper, chasing that breaking point.
“I’m gonna–” he started, panting.
You arched up to meet him, pulling him impossibly close. “Let go for me.”
Mark’s whole body shuddered. He pulled back just enough to finish against your stomach, his release hot and sudden, coating your skin in thick streaks as he moaned your name through clenched teeth.
You lay still, watching him above you, his chest heaving, face slack with wonder and exhaustion. His eyes drifted down to the mess he’d made on you.
He froze. “Shit. I did it again.”
You grinned. “You better clean it up.”
Mark looked down at you, your stomach painted in his cum. He licked his lips, looking back toward your face, like he wanted to say something cock but couldn’t quite find the words. Not when you looked so enticing beneath him. So undone and waiting.
Instead, he leaned down slowly, his tongue licking a long stripe up the center of your stomach. You gasped. “Mark–”
“I said I’d clean it up,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and low.
His tongue moved again, catching every drop. He paused to kiss the space between your breasts, then followed the trail higher, licking up the last of it with a reverent sort of patience. When he reached your collarbone, he kissed you there too, soft, like it was second nature to him.
Then his mouth hovered over yours. You looked up at him, eyes hooded. “You’re gonna kiss me after you just did all that?”
Mark didn’t answer. He just leaned in and kissed you. And you tasted it, you tasted him mixed with the faintest hint of your slick, the way he had been inside you so intimately just moments before. There was something shameless and messy about it, but also strangely tender. His mouth was warm, pliant, and full of something deeper than lust.
You moaned into the kiss, hips shifting against him. You were still aching, still stretched open from the way he filled you, but wanting more, needing release.
Mark broke away just far enough to see your expression. “I got you,” he whispered. Then he slid lower, trailing kisses down your body again. He kissed each spot he’d already licked clean then continued down, past your navel, over the sensitive skin of your pelvis. His hands caressed your thighs, urging them open. When you did, he settled between them as if he belonged there.
Your breath caught the second his tongue met your folds. He starts with slow, languid laps, just enough to make your hips twitch beneath him. He tasted you like he meant it, like he was still trying to understand just how good you could feel under his mouth. His fingers gripped your thighs, holding you open while his tongue flattened and curled against you, working your clit in gentle circles.
You bit your lip, moaning low in your throat. “Mark…” His eyes flicked up briefly but he didn’t stop. If anything, he grew bolder.
He sucked your clit into his mouth, drawing a strangled gasp from you as your hips bucked. He didn’t falter, just pressed his palms harder against your thighs to hold you down. His tongue moved in quick, teasing strokes, alternating between flicks and swirls, building the pressure in slow, perfect increments.
Two of his fingers slipped inside you, knuckle deep, curling upward right into that sweet spot that made your toes curl. He pumped them in time with his mouth, setting a pace that was both caring and overwhelming. You were drenched, throbbing, walls fluttering around his fingers as heat bloomed low in your core.
Your hands gripped the sheets. “I–Mark, I’m–”
He hummed against you, the vibration setting off a chain reaction you couldn’t hold back. Your orgasm surged forward, blinding and breathless. You came with a cry, body arching, hips shaking under his grip, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you.
He kept going, kept licking you through it, mouth gentler now but still attentive, savoring the aftershocks. Only when your body began to twitch with oversensitivity, did he finally stop.
Mark kissed the inside of your thigh before moving up the length of your body again. When his face was even with yours, you were still gasping, flushed, and glowing.
“You good?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.
You laughed, weak but giddy. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mark chuckled, settling beside you, pulling the sheets over both of you. “Told you I wouldn’t leave a drop behind.”
Your chest still heaved gently under the blanket, the aftereffects of your orgasm still lingering like residual magic under your skin. Beside you, Mark lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a quiet sort of fascination, like he couldn’t believe you were still here, like he didn’t want to look away in case you vanished.
“I really wasn’t kidding,” you muttered, staring at the ceiling. “My legs are gone.”
He laughed quietly, the sound warm and low in his throat. “Should I call for magical assistance?”
“No spells,” you said firmly. “Just…lay here.”
And he did, without hesitation. He eased down, sliding his arm beneath your neck and pulling you against his chest. His other hand smoothed gently over your shoulder, fingertips brushing up and down your arm. His heartbeat echoed faintly beneath your cheek, soothing and steadying.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward. It felt full somehow, like a calm tide after the storm. But eventually, Mark broke it.
“So…do all sorcerers have that kind of magic, or are you just a show-off?”
You snorted softly. “What, the Eldritch Whip?”
“I mean, yeah,” his smile was audible in his voice.
You shook your head against his chest. “No, not all of us. Some have more dimensional magic. I just…like things I can control. Things with structure.”
Mark was quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. “Is it lonely?” You didn’t answer right away.
Your fingers curled in the sheets. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “There’s power in what I do. Discipline, focus. But the more magic you use, the more you get used to it, the more it changes you. You started to feel...untethered like you’re floating a little outside the world everyone else is living in. It’s like you don’t exactly belong to this world anymore.”
Mark’s fingers went to your cheek, cupping it before brushing stray hairs away from your temple. “That sounds terrifying.”
You nodded. “It is. Especially when magic was the only thing that ever made me feel grounded. You don’t notice it at first, but suddenly it tips on its head. It stops being an anchor and starts pulling you away.”
His hand stilled. “What happens then?”
Your voice came out barely a whisper. “You forget who you were before it.”
Mark shifted beside you, pulling back just enough to see your face. His thumb traced your cheekbone, gentle and sure. “Then let me be your anchor.”
“What?” Your brows furrowed at his words.
“I know what it’s like. The pressure, the expectations, the feeling that you have to protect people but never really being with them.” He came close once more, brushing his nose gently against yours, voice softer. “If you start to drift again, let me be the thing that pulls you back.”
You stared into his eyes, stunned. “We met today, Mark.”
“I know,” he said, not even flinching. “But we’re both used to making life-changing decisions before breakfast.” You laughed, quiet and involuntary, but it cracked something open in your chest. It felt warm and scary but it was real.
You reached to where his hand rested against you and laced your fingers through his, pulling his hand down to lay over your heart. “You want to anchor a sorcerer?”
“I already swing across skyscrapers and fight aliens before going to school,” he assured, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “You think any of this scares me?”
Your throat tightened, yet you curled into him, just a little more.
“This is a basic portal spell,” you informed Mark, drawing a glowing circle in the air with a flick of your wrist. “Like a small peek into another dimension. No instability. I do this all the time just to see what the different versions of me are up to.”
He squinted skeptically at the golden circle swirling midair. “You literally said ‘oops’ three seconds ago.”
“I said ‘oops’ because the spell was a little enthusiastic, you replied. “Not wrong. Just…excited.”
“Right,” Mark muttered.
Before you could respond, the portal gave a pulse, then expanded, twisting open wider with a sharp ripple. You and Mark both stepped closer as a warm breeze curled from its edge, filled with the faint scent of petrichor and jasmine.
Mark looked at you. “What is–”
The image inside came into focus. A city skyline, similar to New York’s, but cleaner and sharper. It was a rooftop like the one you had met Mark on. But it wasn’t the setting that made you freeze.
It was you.
Standing in the middle of the rooftop, in a different version of your robes. It was sleek, darker, and glowing with magic. And next to you?
Another Mark.
It wasn’t the stolen shirt and boxers Mark that stood next to you in your room. No, this version of him stood tall in a red and blue SpiderMan suit, mask off, hair windswept, and eyes full of something that you couldn’t place a finger on. Amusement? Familiarity? Love?
He leaned toward your variant self and said something you couldn’t hear, then cupped her cheek. And she–you–smiled.
She wasn’t shy or uncertain like how you were with your Mark. This was the smile of someone who had said yes a thousand times to the person in front of them.
Your real Mark breathed. “Whoa.” You didn’t realize you were squeezing his arm until he looked down. “Is that…us?”
“I think so.” Your voice was faint.
Inside the portal, the other you leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t heated or messy, it was slow, deliberate, and intimate.
The portal flickered suddenly like it had been caught peeking. Then the world inside blurred, warped, and collapsed into golden threads.
Gone.
The walls of your room returned.
You and Mark stared at the fading sparks for a long moment before he finally cleared his throat. “So…alternate universe versions of us are like…dating?”
You shrugged. “Seems like it.”
“And they–they have suits…and serious vibes.”
“And what appears to be a healthy emotional bond,” you added, still dazed.
He looked at you. “Do you think they collided on a rooftop too?”
You laughed. “Doubt it. They probably met mid-battle or while negotiating with cosmic beings.”
Mark let out a low whistle. “Multiversal overachievers.” There was a pause. Then he smiled and bumped his shoulder into yours. “Do you wanna…I don’t know, try getting to that version? Like, not the suits or the very intimidating eye contact–but the rest?”
You met his eyes and it felt like the ghost of that other you was lingering behind your gaze. “I think,” you began, “we already are.”
Mark grinned. “Cool. So next time, maybe dinner before the unstable portal?”
“Not promising anything,” you chided. “Come on, hero. Let’s go clean up the rest of the soda.”
Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Shadow - L.Ten
⟶ Summary | Your life has been in shambles with only your two sweet girls keeping you strong enough to carry on. It has been a while since the flame of desire you once had within you dim into almost nothing, until the man who spends his life fighting against arson comes into your life (and your two little girls’) only to help light up that fire once again
⟶ Title | Blooming Wallflowers
⟶ Pairings | Kim Namjoon x older female reader
⟶ Genre | Firefighter!Namjoon, Single mother!reader, Smut, Angst
⟶ Word count | 20,800 words
⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; allusions of past/toxic relationships, healing, usage of alcohol and drinking, dealing with insecurities, age gap with older female reader (OC is in her mid-30s), trapped in confined spaces; contains explicit smut scenes, including: sexual tension, dirty talk, light restraint, soft dom!Namjoon, switching positions and roles (OC taking control at some point), clothed foreplay, grinding, dry humping, thigh riding, implied body worship, breasts play, fingering, clit play, pussy slapping, riding, grinding, semi-public sex (does dining room count?), pet names, groping, biting, edging, oral sex (female receiving), minor hand-job, panty ripping, clit biting, panty sniffing, praise kink, hair pulling, rough sex, protective sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation.
⟶ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @KimCheeHoo | I’m so sorry this took me forever to finish. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. I hope you’ll enjoy this story. Have fun reading!
⟶ Story Note 1 | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). This story has POV switches, and this is roughly edited, so forgive me for any mistakes.
Banner design made by me, age warning divider by @/cafekitsune | Posted in: September 25th, 2024 by @yoonia
⟶ Also written as part of the @bangtanwritershq “Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?” Third Quarter 2024 writing event!
⟡ AU type: Hold Me Tight - Dilf/Milf AU
⟡ Themes: Age Gap, Situationship
⟡ Inclusions: Edging, Fingering, Angst/Hurt, Restraints
⟶ Music companion | Blue Rain, Make You Mine
⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Ko-fi | Commission
⟶ Read on AO3
⟶ Short story: Dinner with Mista Joonie
On some days, you would feel like you are finally getting your shit together.
But today is not one of those days.
“Mommy! Hana is trying to bite me!” You hear your oldest whine as she hugs the pancake batter box to her chest. Shaking your head, you can only guess that her sister has been trying to take that box away from her hands.
“No, I did not!” Hana, your youngest daughter argues back, “Mommy, Suzy won’t let me use the scanning thingy.”
Suzy narrows her eyes and scoffs. She has been doing this expression a lot lately. It took you weeks after you first saw her making such an expression to figure out that she had somehow gotten it from you. Hana’s new biting habit, however, is something that you have yet to figure out how and when it started.
“You’re such a baby,” Suzy says, rolling her eyes, which only riles up her sister more.
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. That’s why you can’t do this. Babies don’t do what grown-ups do.”
Sullen, Hana props her hands on her hips and lifts her chin, as if it would make her look bigger against her sister while whining, “But you’re not a grown-up too!”
Watching them go at each other, you cannot decide whether you want to laugh or cry.
Hana’s attitude reminds you of someone. You, perhaps, no doubt as the only role model she currently has to copy some of that sassy attitude from. You probably should feel embarrassed—deep down, you do, you are somewhere in public, after all—as the girls continue fighting, their voices loud enough to draw some attention, with the addition of being super dramatic about it.
Only for them to have a turn at helping you with the self-checkout counter.
You know the reason why you cannot find it in you to be mad at them. Not when the girls are showing you that they are the perfect carbon copy of you—not that you are the kind to have a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket, at least not at this age—and when they are always full of surprises. And you cannot deny that they are so stinking cute.
Suzy, the bigger one out of the two, is mostly quiet and sweet. As a six-year-old girl, only weeks away towards her seventh, she often makes people think that she is a bit older than she truly is with how calm she acts around others. Until recently, she has always been so shy. But that is only until the moment her little sister starts acting out and then she would react so strongly to her tantrum—just like what she is doing now.
Hana, on the other hand, is more brave and confident, and a bit too smart for her own good. Always so curious and mischievous, and always loves to copy whatever her big sister is up to. And she is always so headstrong that nothing can stop her whenever she wants something.
She just turned four, and you were sure that she could barely speak full sentences just a year ago. That period of time feels so long ago as you watch her arguing with her sister, with perfect sound of mind, clear words and reasonings, a sign that she is growing up a bit too soon.
“Girls, please stop screaming at each other,” you try to calmly separate them.
You have no idea what is happening. Normally, your girls would know perfectly well how to behave. They take great pride in being your ‘little helpers’ and it isn’t rare for you to bring them with you when you are out buying groceries.
For some reason, they have been like this all day. Constantly arguing and making a fuss over everything. Even to the smallest things.
“You can take turns using the scanner. Let Suzy finish scanning the pancake batter, then you can do yours, Hana. Here—”
Reaching into the shopping cart, you grab the box of cookies that you don’t remember placing inside the cart and try to hand it over to Hana. Only for it to slip out of your hand when both Suzy and Hana try to reach for it. Both insisting on taking it and having their turn.
“Motherfucker,” you mutter under your breath as the box slides on the floor, and both girls immediately launch into another series of arguments, blaming each other for dropping the box and getting you angry.
Tears are pooling in the corner of your eyes, and the quick switch of your mood isn’t unnoticeable for your girls as they both grow still. As if they are expecting you to snap. You bite your lips, trying your best not to.
Just as you take a deep breath to compose yourself, a shadow comes to your side, picking up the fallen box and handing it to you.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice speaks, snapping you out of it, only to pull you into a dreamy trance the moment you get a look at his face and see his smile. The dimple on his cheek distracts you from your distraught that your mind becomes numb for a moment.
“Hi there, do you need any help?”
“Uhm, not really. It’s fine,” you answer, barely getting a word out when it feels like your brain has short-circuited. You shake your head, noticing his extended hand, offering you the box that you dropped earlier. “Oh, thank you,” you say to him, smiling apologetically as you take the box from his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why my girls are acting like this. They’re not usually this dramatic.”
“That’s okay. Kids will be kids, right?” His eyes flicker towards your girls. Suzy, still in shock, is standing right by the cart while clutching the box of pancake batter to her chest, while Hana is clinging to your leg, almost hiding. “I don’t think you remember me, but—” The kind stranger offers the same hand to you to shake as he introduces himself, “I’m Namjoon. I just moved in a couple of doors away.”
Once the information sets in, everything clicks. “Oh, yes. That’s right. I do remember.”
All of a sudden, your memory takes you to last weekend, when you joined a cookout event held by one of your neighbours. The gathering was initially meant to celebrate their 25th anniversary, and you recall how they extended the celebration to welcome the new neighbour arriving in your block. You were so tired that night and were so focused on watching your kids that everything seemed to flash by, but you do recall gossiping with one of your neighbours, Ella—the only other single mom of the group—about how hot and stunning the newcomer looked.
Blinking away the memory, you offer him another smile. “I’m sorry, I think the stress got to me. But I do remember you, although I don’t think we had enough time to chat.”
“It’s fine. I won’t blame you, given the circumstances,” he says, and that cute dimple appears again. He turns to your kids next, bending a bit lower to match their height. “Hi, there. Are you girls trying to help your mom with the checkout?”
Suzy presses her lips together, too shy to speak, but Hana is always happy to offer an answer. “Suzy won’t let me help.” You look down to see her pouting her lips, yet her eyes are still wide, looking curious and intrigued by this friendly stranger. Once again, something that you might share with your girl.
“Well, I haven’t checked out my things and I might need a little help. So why don’t we let your sister help your mom, and you help me with mine?” he offers Hana with a smile as he points at his shopping basket, which is barely half full. Any adult would notice that he wouldn’t be needing much help with them, but Hana immediately perks up at his generous offer.
“Is that really okay with you?” you ask, worrying about troubling him when you barely know him at all and letting your daughter out of your sight.
As if he knows what you are thinking, he points over his shoulder at the next counter, which is only recently vacant. “I’ll take the next counter, so you can see and hear us all the time.”
A sigh of relief escapes you. For some reason, looking at him alone is enough to reassure you and make you trust him. Maybe it’s the dimple. “Right. Okay,” you say to him, nodding. “Go ahead, honey. Help the nice mister with his groceries. But promise me that you’ll be good.”
“‘Kay!” Hana easily agrees, getting overly excited that she has been given something else to do. “I promise, Mommy.”
Find the beauty in the chaos.
You remember reading that sentence somewhere. Perhaps from one of your favourite romance novels or one of those self-help books that your mother bought you during your darkest time.
Each time you are having a hard time, be it from work, from dealing with household chores, or from caring for your daughters, you will always remember those words to keep your composure. Just like how you kept repeating those same words moments ago while you were stressing over your kids, when you tried to remain calm and sane.
You didn’t expect the beauty to come and find you in your chaos instead.
Having someone helping you just when you are starting to lose your calm feels like a blessing from the universe.
Once peace has been regained, everything seems to return back to normal. Almost as if your daughters’ tantrum and fight never happened.
While you work together with Suzy, who is enjoying her role as your little assistant, her smile widening each time the items go through, you can hear the sound of soft giggling from nearby as Hana does the same with her new friend.
And Namjoon, the kind stranger and your saviour of the day, is making it fun by playing a little game with your little girl using the scanner and his groceries, drawing smiles and laughter from Hana, her little drama earlier forgotten. Soon enough, they are done, yet Hana remains by Namjoon’s side, almost clinging to his strong arm as she chatters away while he listens closely, hanging to every word she says.
It appears that your little girl has completely become infatuated with the man. You cannot blame her though, since the man is quite easy in the eye. You have even noticed some of the women passing by looking over, and it surprises you how quickly it is making you feel territorial about him.
“Thank you so much for your help. I truly appreciate it.”
And you mean every word, seeing that not only has he helped solve your little problem with your demanding daughters, he also stays long enough to walk you to your car. If that isn’t enough to make you feel as if you have been transferred into another dimension, he has somehow gotten your daughter lifted in one arm, while he carries his grocery bag in the other.
“It’s nothing, really. I enjoyed talking to your sweet girl,” he says, once again showing his dimple, and you can swear that you are swooning just by the look of it. Perhaps it’s his voice that does it to you; the deep timbre that makes you feel warm inside. It might also be the way he glances at Hana, not even showing any sign that he is getting annoyed for having his evening thwarted by having to deal with little girls and their very disorganised mother.
“I mean it. You could’ve just walked past and didn’t offer anything, but you still did. You’re even walking us out to the car.” You sigh, recalling the bitter memory of the drama earlier. Glancing at him, you realise that Hana has become extremely silent. “Please tell me Hana isn’t falling asleep on your shoulder.”
Namjoon lets out a soft chuckle as he takes a peek at Hana’s face, her cheeks smushed against his broad shoulder as if she has found the perfect place to rest her head on. “I think she’s about to.”
Biting your lips, you hold back the sound that almost comes involuntarily out of you, because you can almost hear your ovaries exploding.
Namjoon helps put Hana into her kiddie seat in the backseat of the car while you strap Suzy in right beside her. “You seem like you’ve done this before,” you let it slip, and you quickly move your hand to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been so nice and here I am, sounding too presumptuous.”
“It’s okay. Most of my friends have kids, and I’ve helped them once or twice whenever I’m free. I also have a niece from my sister, which gave me a chance to practice.”
You take a peek at his grocery bag and remember what you saw in it—a box of beer, a couple of boxes of microwave dinners, and some snacks—and feel the urge to cook him dinner. Just to pay him a favour.
Yes, that’s what it is. Not that you are eager to have him over for dinner or invite him into your home for anything other than.
The offer is there, hanging at the tip of your tongue. But then you bite your lips, your insecurities and doubts rearing their ugly head, making you feel so small that you take a step back and simply say, “Thank you again. I’m so sorry for all the trouble.”
Namjoon shrugs it off. “It was a pleasure to help.”
Nodding, you look around, trying to find a distraction. You quickly notice that most of the cars parked near yours have gone away. “Are you—where did you park your car?”
The dimple on his cheek appears again when he shows you a bashful smile. “I don’t drive a car, actually,” he says, grinning and rubbing the back of his head. “I rode a bike here.”
“A—bike?” You resist the urge to look around, just to be sure. Riding a bike at this time at night? You have no idea whether to feel amazed or baffled. Perhaps both.
Seeing your reaction makes him laugh, and you somehow decide that you like the sound of it. “Yeah, I always ride a bike to the gym, and I was just heading home from there when I decided to make a quick stop to grab some sustenance for the evening.”
Hiking the grocery bag in his arm higher, Namjoon takes a step back. That is when you notice the bag hanging from his shoulder. The one that wasn’t weighed down by Hana’s little head.
Okay, you have officially decided to be amazed. Is this guy for real?
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks, snapping you back to the present before your mind starts picturing him carrying something else on those shoulders.
No, none of it involves you.
Maybe.
You shake your head and muster a smile. “Oh, you betcha. You’ll definitely see us more often. Especially now that Hana has decided to like you.”
You linger at the driver’s side of your car, hands on the door, yet your body refuses to slide in. You have no idea what seems to be drawing you towards him. Whatever it is, it makes you not want to leave.
Namjoon tilts his head, as if noticing your hesitation to leave first. “Go on, I’ll watch you until you’re out there safely.”
You open your mouth, almost ready to tell him to get back on his way before realising that the parking lot is quiet. Too quiet. And you have to admit that ever since you were left with only your two girls, you have been feeling a bit more vulnerable. Choosing to accept his offer of staying until you are safe to go—and feeling warm in the chest for having someone care enough to do so—you nod your head and slip into your car.
Once you are strapped in, you look out the window to wave him goodbye.
“Drive safe,” he says, and then the dimple reappears when he smiles, almost causing you to stutter.
“Yes, um. You too.”
Hana’s eyes flutter open just as Namjoon takes a peek into the backseat window to say goodbye to the girls.
“Bye, Mista Joonie!” she cheerfully shouts, as if she wasn’t falling asleep in his arm just moments ago.
“Goodbye, Mister,” Suzy chimes in with a shy smile, waving her hand at Namjoon which he returns with a small wave.
“I’ll see you girls around!”
Giving him one last wave and a smile, you begin to drive away. You can still see him through the rearview mirror, standing by and watching you go, until you are almost out of the lot and you see his figure running in the distance to get back to his bike. It’s brief, but there is something about this chance encounter that makes you feel bitter about leaving.
Even if, deep down, you know that you will see him again soon.
Perhaps I should’ve offered and invited him for dinner, after all.
There is truly no beauty in this chaos.
Even if there is, it would be impossible for you to see it. Not in moments like this.
It seems like the entire universe is out to get you this week, as nothing seems to be aligning the way it should have. The whole office has been in complete havoc all morning. Typical for Blackwell Press, the publishing company you are working with, to have the final week of the month filled with all the hustle. With everyone getting caught in deadlines, meetings and conference calls held back to back, and your own work piling up, it almost seems impossible for things to get even worse.
But, of course, it eventually did.
Offices don’t randomly get caught on fire during the daytime, when there are people—many of them—inside. Elevators don’t randomly get stuck merely seconds after the fire alarm starts blaring across the building.
Okay, this elevator had gotten stuck before, during that one time some staff were working late at night and the machine suddenly failed to work. Everyone has been joking about it happening again during a busy day, and it feels like karma that it has to happen again now.
But must it happen when you are inside it?
The steady hum of the elevator suddenly turned into a deafening silence just moments ago, and the only thing you can do now is to stand frozen in the flickering light, wondering what is going on. Trapped between floors, the confined space appears in your mind as if closing in on you, the walls shrinking with every breath. The only reprieve you are given is the fact that you are not in it on your own.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, louder than the faint crackle of the intercom as Daniel, the Marketing guy, tries to contact the security staff downstairs through the intercom. His voice remains calm despite the constant crackling sound each time they try to respond, while the other Marketing staff present with you, Jae, has long discarded his suit in his effort to calm himself.
You take shallow breaths to keep yourself from panicking, all while trying to listen to the soft hum of their voices as they talk about what to do, just to keep your mind from wandering towards dark places. Right beside you, Lily, the only member of the Editor team aside yourself, is slowly losing her calm.
At the sudden halt of the elevator, she had reached out to grab the sleeve of your blouse as if searching for support. As seconds tick by, her grip on your sleeve tightens as she tries to control her breath, her eyes locked on the digital screen that is no longer displaying a floor number. And you let her cling to you, even when you feel like you need some added strength for yourself.
It was by mere coincidence that the four of you are stuck here together.
You were the last ones to leave the conference room after the latest meeting, having been the ones responsible for providing the items for the meeting. As fate has it, merely seconds after the doors were closed and the elevator had only started moving, the fire alarm started blaring through the building, and everything came to a halt.
“They’re saying that help is on its way,” says Daniel, relaying the message that he just received from the intercom, his voice becomes the calm in this dire situation.
You find yourself feeling grateful that at least one of you manages to hear the voice coming through the intercom, while you haven’t been able to focus on anything at all. Nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rapid sound of your heartbeat, and at the way the air seems to be growing stale with four people sharing the same oxygen in this tight space.
“What did they say? Is it connected to the fire alarm?” you try to ask, hoping that getting some positive news might help clear your thoughts. Even if just a little.
“No, they didn’t say anything,” Daniel says with a strained voice, possibly due to reality finally sinking in once the intercom stops making any sound to respond.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jae leans back against the metal railing and sighs. “Let’s just hope that we’re not anywhere close to the fire, and it’s just some issues with the electricity,” he adds while trying his best to remain calm. But it doesn’t help make you feel any calmer when his eyes begin wandering at every visible gap and crevice as he speaks, as if making sure that he isn’t seeing any smoke filtering into the elevator.
It makes you feel uneasy to see this. Every bit of calmness that you still have begins chipping away.
Soon, silence falls as everyone tries their best to remain still and composed while waiting for help to come. The minutes drag on like hours, allowing your thoughts to wander into a darker place and letting your doubt and fear sink in.
Is the building really burning?
Why are we stuck here? How long are we supposed to wait?
What happens if help doesn’t come?
What about my girls? What will happen to them if I—
You blink away the tears forming in your eyes at the thought of not returning home to your girls. The thought of leaving them behind hurts you beyond words that you are beginning to lose hope.
Gripping the metal railing behind you tightly, you close your eyes and begin to pray. And you continue to pray as time slips away in the dim, stalled box. Please, you beg whoever is listening. Please, someone—
A loud clatter breaks the silence, causing everyone to jerk their heads up, all eyes looking around to find its source. Right as Jae is about to speak, the clattering stops and comes a muffled voice from somewhere above.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" The voice is clear now, firm but calming, and somewhat familiar. But your mind is a jumbled mess of worry and bewilderment that you cannot figure out the reason why you would think that way.
"Yes!" Jae calls back after looking around, seeing how everyone is stunned to silence, “Yes, we can hear you!”
"Stay calm," the voice calmly instructs from above. “We’re from the firefighters. We're going to get you out."
You feel your knees weakening with relief. Even the others collectively exhale deep sighs of relief and Lily begins to loosen her hold on the sleeve of your blouse. “Okay,” she whispers, steadying herself. “We’re going to be okay.”
Daniel nods when he sees that everyone is calmer. “Okay, we’re ready!” he shouts to the person on the other side as he braces against the cool metal wall.
Soon, you hear a low, scraping sound against the elevator door, followed by the clank of tools echoing through the small chamber. The elevator shirts slightly upon impact, causing everyone to gasp and instinctively start stepping away from the door. Before panic starts to set back in, the firefighter’s voice cuts through again, calming everyone down.
"We're going to manually open the doors. You might feel the elevator shift a little—don't worry. You're safe."
Safe.
The word echoes through your mind, acting like a spell as it brings some reassurance. Something for you to cling to. The clanking sounds of the tool returns just as you start hearing the firefighter coordinating with his team outside.
More creaks and groans follow next, lasting for a short while, and then—light appears. The doors start inching open, revealing the gap between the elevator floor and the hallway above. Two strong hands appear from the gap, pulling the doors wider until there is enough space for you to see your rescuers in their fire gear, all focused and ready to pull everyone out.
One firefighter peeks through the opened doors with a smile. “Alright, who’s up first?”
Both men who are with you step aside, allowing either you or Lily to get out first. So you push Lily forward, letting her get helped first before you take your turn.
"Alright, just one step up," the firefighter says, reaching down with an outstretched hand. "Take my hand, we’ve got you."
You hesitate only for a moment before grasping his hand, his hold feels solid and reassuring. You can feel the strength in his grip as he hoists you up and out of the elevator, the cool rush of fresh air hitting you like a wave of relief. Your legs tremble as they touch solid ground that you nearly fall, yet the kind firefighter holds you up by your arms, keeping you steady as he sets you aside so that the other members of his team can start helping the men out.
"You're okay now," the firefighter says, his voice softer now. "Just breathe. You’re safe."
Nodding, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your fear melting away. Still unable to speak, you glance back at the elevator, seeing it still wedged between floors, and feel a shiver run through you as you remember that you had just been inside it moments ago. But as you look around, watching the firefighters handling the situation, helping the other three who had just gotten pulled out to get help, the terror that was gripping at you begins to loosen its hold.
With a relieved sigh, you straighten up and turn back to your saviour, the firefighter who had just pulled you out and is still holding you up. The moment you see his face, you finally understand why his voice felt so familiar, and why you could easily find calmness when you first heard him speak.
“Namjoon,” you whisper his name, drawing a smile to his face, showing you the small dimple which had been in your mind ever since the night you last met.
“I told you we’d meet again soon.”
“Is this really necessary?”
You are sitting at the corner of the building’s main lobby, together with the other three who had gotten stuck with you in the elevator. Other staff have also been evacuated here while the firefighters are working to find the source of the problem.
Namely, the reason why the fire alarm went off when there was no sign of the building burning anywhere.
Right by your side, Jae is being checked by the medical team when it is quite obvious that all the man wants to do is to get back to his office.
“You were under duress just moments ago, Sir. We need to check your vitals to make sure that there are no other issues with your body that the incident may have caused before letting you go.”
“Let the boy do his job so we can all go back to the office,” Daniel chimes in just as he is done being checked out and the medic moves to Lily next. The poor girl has yet to regain some colour on her pale face, which makes you worried. “Wait, we’re allowed to go back to our office, right?”
The medical staff nods and talks about waiting until everyone gets clearance from the investigation team before going back up. After getting your turn for the quick check-up, you wander off a bit between the staff lingering around, feeling too restless to sit still.
Before you realise what you are doing, you begin searching for a familiar figure between the throng of people, and you don’t stop until you see a group of firefighters returning to the lobby after checking the floors above. One of them, who appears to be the team leader, walks towards the head of security and the Head Editor waiting close by.
“It came from smoke forming in the break room. Someone must’ve burned something in the microwave or forgot to pull it out and the smoke triggered the alarm,” you hear the team leader speak, explaining the cause of the fire alarm. “The faulty alarm system made the electrical circuit go haywire, which made it seem like it was a bigger fire than it was, and it may have caused the elevator cables to short-circuit.” The team leader hands the draft of their investigation report to the head of security. “The elevator needs to get checked too, since the cables are old. You need to get it done soon.”
The Head Editor—your boss—takes a peek at the report and shakes his head. “I’m gonna need to contact building management—”
His voice begins to fade away when a movement catches your eyes, and you see the person that you have been searching for separating himself from the group to approach you.
Namjoon, who turns out to be your saviour, walks up to you with a smile on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, the familiar deep timber of his voice brings some warmth to your chest, telling you that this isn’t a figment of your imagination.
“Yeah,” you answer with a small voice, still too dumbfounded to see him standing before you like this. “Uhm, yes, I’m fine. Thank you so much for saving my life.” The moment you say this, a soft giggle slips right out of you. “This makes it the second time this week you’ve come to my rescue.”
Namjoon’s smile widens. “I’m just glad to help.”
He takes a look around. “So, a publishing agency, hmm? What is it exactly that you do here, if I may ask?” His curious gaze lands on you and it feels like he is trying to look into your soul. “I hope it’s okay if I’m curious, since you now know what I do for a living.”
You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t mind at all,” you admit to him before answering, “I’m an editor. I edit manuscripts for upcoming books before they are sent out to print and get officially published. You can say that I’m being paid to read and comment, and gain the extra privilege of reading the books first before everyone else does.”
“That sounds interesting,” he says, raising his brows. “I don’t suppose you’ll be getting back to work after this?”
“I’m not entirely sure. But I don’t think I will.” You glance around at your co-workers. Neither seems to have any desire of going back to work after this whole incident. Sharing the same feeling with the others around you, you feel a strong desire of seeing your girls and spending time with them instead. “I might get back to my office only to pack up my stuff and leave early, pick up Hana from daycare and have a little cool down at the park before we go and pick up her sister. I know she’ll love it.”
At the mention of your girls, Namjoon’s smile softens. “That sounds fun.”
For a moment, it looks as if he wants to say something, only to stop himself when someone from his team calls his name. Namjoon looks over his shoulder and nods. “Unfortunately, one of us has to go back to work,” he says with an apologetic smile, “I’ll see you around. Hopefully, not in another case of emergency?”
You cannot help but smile. “I promise to try and keep things less dramatic next time.”
With a grin on his face, Namjoon turns away and joins the other men from his team as they prepare to leave. You watch him for a moment longer, blending in with the rest of them until someone comes to your side.
“So—” Your friend, Emma, says as she slips her arm around yours. “Who’s the hunk?”
You roll your eyes and smile. “He’s a new neighbour. He helped me the last time we met,” you answer, still stunned with everything that has been going on. You never expected that you would be seeing Namjoon again, and for him to once again save the day for you, “Which makes this the second time he’s helped me.”
“Oooh, sounds like a story premise in the making. It’ll make a good romance prompt, don’t you think?” she teases, “A firefighter who keeps crossing paths with a single mother, saving her during a series of misfortunes and ending up falling in love after the single mom starts paying his goodwill with homecooked meals and other”—she starts wiggling her eyebrows—”raunchy favours.”
You laugh at her comment, even if it doesn’t stop you feeling your cheeks flushing warmly. “Well, I’m not the writer. You can probably pitch that idea to the indie author you’ve been working with.”
“Who? Sana? Hmmm, you’re right. This is kind of her thing. Let me take notes on that,” Emma says as she pulls out her phone and starts tapping on the screen, no doubt writing the idea down on her notes app. “I might advice her to make it extra spicy too.”
As you continue to chat with your friend about books and promising writers, you let her guide you back towards the Editor team who are gathering at one corner of the room with your boss, talking about the incidents and what they are going to do next.
“Are you heading back up?” Emma asks you before you join the others, and you recall your plan about spending the rest of the afternoon with your youngest.
“I’m thinking of grabbing my stuff and head back home if Adam lets us go for the day,” you say to her, referring to your boss, the Head Editor who isn’t showing any sign of wanting to back to work. Much like everyone else. “I’ll probably end up losing sleep again if I want to finish editing tonight.”
You let out a sigh, thinking about the lack of sleep you have been having this week. With new books coming up to prints this month, and new writers struggling to keep up with the schedule that you have set up for them, you have been staying up a lot of nights to catch up with editing.
“But it’s still a lot better to work from home than being stuck here and freaking out about the elevator and false fire alarms all day,” you add, almost like reassuring yourself that it would be okay to sacrifice more sleep for the sake of your sanity.
“Good point. I bet we can sweet talk Adam to let us go early today. I don’t see the point in working when everyone is stressed out anyway,” Emma jokes as she points her chin at Adam, whose eyebrows are furrowed deeply as he continues chatting with his assistants. “At least, thanks to this, I think we deserve to let off some steam. What do you say we go out this Saturday? Grab some drinks, dance a bit, maybe you can practice your flirting skills so you can make use of them the next time you meet up with that cutie again.”
You make a face as you imagine yourself trying to make a move on Namjoon, which only makes her laugh. “I’m serious. He seems nice, aside from being hot, and it’ll be a missed opportunity not to tap that.”
You roll your eyes, but a part of you is starting to consider it. As much as you love being a mother and to dedicate your entire life to your career, you cannot deny that you do want to start dating again.
And the offer to have a night out where you can let off some steam and let loose does sound enticing. Emma and some of your other friends have been asking you to join them to hangout on drink nights lately. But with a lot of deadlines and tight schedules weighing down on you, and no one to watch your girls while you are out, you have been declining their invitation. But after dealing with such a hard week, you feel like you deserve a night to yourself.
“I do need a stiff drink.” Sighing, you remember that your daughters are going to be spending the weekends with your parents. It wouldn’t hurt to use that free time to have some fun for a change instead of staying in. “All right. Count me in.”
Emma cheers. “Great! I’ll call the other girls to see if they’ll come too it so we can all catch up. Chloe called the other day and shared about wanting to see us and give us the souvenirs she got from her trip to Singapore last week, so she’ll probably be excited too,” she says, mentioning another fellow Editor who used to work in the same company as the two of you before moving up to a bigger publishing agency.
Just then, you see a small group of firefighters walking across the lobby, heading towards the front door to leave. Among them is Namjoon, who seems to feel your gaze on him. As you continue watching him walk alongside his team, he suddenly turns. His eyes quickly find you among the crowd lingering in the lobby, his smile growing wider as he raises his hand to wave goodbye.
Emma makes a humming sound when she sees this exchange happening and whispers, “Promise me you’ll tell me more about that hot firefighter of yours.”
Keeping your eyes on Namjoon, you merely smile and wave your hand back at him. “Mhmm. We’ll see.”
It’s a typical Saturday night at Cipher, the rustic-style bar that Namjoon has frequented ever since he moved into the city.
The bar had a different name just a couple of years ago, when Namjoon first came by during one of his previous visits to this city, and with different types of patrons as well. The only thing that remains the same since is the man who is working behind the bar, mixing drinks while chatting with whoever decides to hang around the bartender.
“How is living in the city going for you so far?” Jin, the bartender and owner of the bar, asks Namjoon while he is busy wiping clean glasses between drink orders.
Twisting the glass in his hand, Namjoon shrugs before taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not too bad. I can’t say that I’ve gotten to fit right in with the neighbours. But things are doing good at work, so that’s good enough for now.”
“Seeing anyone already?” Jin teases, making Namjoon laugh.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” He shakes his head. “It might be too soon for me to get back out there into the dating scene.”
“You? Not sure about getting out to meet up with women?” Jin laughs. “Look, I’m not talking about getting into a relationship or finding someone else to propose. I’m talking about having fun. Go pick someone you find attractive tonight and take her home with you. You deserve a good time too, you know.”
Namjoon’s throat feels tight just by hearing that word—propose—only because it brings back a painful memory; of the days filled with fights and shouting matches and distrust, and the desperation he felt to hold on to the hope that things would have gotten better if he chose to settle down.
Shaking the sudden wave of painful memory doesn’t really help when he thinks about opening himself to finding instant pleasure to replace what was lost to him.
Namjoon may not be a stranger to having a one-night stand. But it has been a while since the last time he had one. Those days are way behind him. Long before he decided to settle down, only to have everything fall apart and he was forced to start over in a new place just to survive.
He knows all too well that sharing his bed with someone for one night only does little to fill the void. He knows from what he experienced during his wild days in the past. Physically, he might not have been alone for those short hours, but once it ended, it only made him feel even more lonely than before. At some point, the loneliness started to feel painful. It was what had first led him to start longing for something more.
He once thought that he had found more. Only that it had been with the wrong person, at the wrong time, and he found himself back to square one when everything crumbled.
He took it all thinking that it might have been karma. Bad fate came to bite him on the ass after all the years he had his fun chasing women, breaking hearts here and there, until he got his own heart broken to pieces just months ago.
It was the reality check he needed. One that he has yet to completely recover from. The pain and the memories of the past would sometimes come creeping in, staying with him as if they had been woven into the cracks that were left inside him to remain even after he walked away. It kept chasing him during the nights he spent alone—and he had tried to go back to the game once or twice, only to fail to gain anything out of it—which was why he decided to move away.
Start anew. Meet new people. And then one day, maybe—
He knows that time will eventually help him heal, just like how time has healed many of the scars he had gained through the years of working with danger, chasing fires and pulling people out of crumbling buildings and crashed cars and stuck elevators—a flutter of a smile comes to his face as he recalls the most recent incident—while risking his own body, his life, doing so.
“I can’t believe I’m getting an advice about hooking up from someone like you,” Namjoon chuckles, as he brushes those thoughts away, choosing to tease Jin instead. “Someone who claims to be looking into settling down.”
Jin scoffs. “I’m saying this for your own good.” Propping his elbows on top of the bar counter, Jin leans forward. “You moved here to start over. Not to stop living altogether.”
Namjoon gives him a bitter smile. “Right now, I’m only going to spend the night nursing my drink, enjoying my downtime while I’m off duty.”
Shaking his head, Jin leans back and grabs the empty glasses left behind from the patrons who had just stepped away from the seats next to Namjoon. “Have you thought about my offer?” Jin asks, “About working here on the nights you’re not on night shift? At least, that way, you might open up your eyes and see all the opportunities you can get by standing right here at the bar, talking to people.”
“And live a double life like you do?” Namjoon teases him, which earns him a wink from Jin, before the bartender saunters away as another customer waves him down to order a drink.
Once again left with his own thoughts, Namjoon allows himself to sink back into old memories; all the good and the bad; the long-lost hope that he once had and is now trying to rebuild.
“Wanna have another?” Jin asks when he returns, noticing that Namjoon has almost emptied his glass yet again. “Got enough time to think about what I was saying?”
“Maybe,” Namjoon says as he tosses his drink down. He slides the empty glass back to Jin. “Get me a double of that.”
As Jin steps back to grab his drinks, Namjoon notices the group of patrons crowding nearby spreading away, giving him a clear sight of the bar’s entrance door just as a group of women enters, laughing and chatting with each other without realising the attention they are gaining. All of a sudden, Namjoon feels as if the air around him shifts, right the moment his eyes capture the sight of a familiar smile among the ladies who seem to have come for a good time.
“Can I ask you something?” Namjoon asks Jin when the bartender returns with his drink.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Do you believe in fate?”
Jin laughs. “Me? I can’t really say I don’t believe it, but it’s also not something I’d talk about while tending the bar. Why?”
Namjoon turns back to look at the group of newcomers, his smile growing wider when his eyes meet yours as you look up, as if you can feel his presence as he sits across the room, watching you with a new feeling of hope brewing inside his chest. Life can be cruel sometimes, he silently admits. Yet it seems that life is slowly turning to his favour when you unexpectedly appear right before his eyes, right when he is about to call it a night and return to his lonely home.
“Well, I think I am starting to believe it.”
“I feel like we should make a toast,” Emma starts once you manage to find an open table. She holds up her glass of Cosmo before anyone can start enjoying their drinks.
“What are we toasting for?” Ina asks, just as Emma shouts,
“To friendship.”
Chloe snorts into her drink and shakes her head. “What are we, in high school?”
“Hey, I mean, it works,” Emma whines, “Seeing that we still hang out together even after you and Ina moved to different companies.”
Thinking to yourself, you think about the long week that you just had and offer, “How about a toast to surviving life?”
“I’ll toast to that,” Ina quickly agrees with a nod, and you can totally understand why. Being the oldest one of the group, she has a ton of things on her plate among her busy days at work; from dealing with her teenage boys back home who are beginning to act up; a husband who is busy preparing for his promotion; and a sick cat back home.
“I love my boys, but sometimes I wish they were still the same adorable toddlers who would listen to me instead of fighting me all the time,” she would often say, though you could always see the love in her eyes even as she complains about them. “Are you sure you don’t want to trade them with your girls? Just a night will be enough for me. I promise.”
Chloe raises her glass to join the toast, saying, “I’ll toast to that too. These past few weeks have been pretty crazy for me. I want to stay in bed with my hubby for the next few weeks and not answer any texts or phone calls.”
Her comment makes you want to take a shot of your drink. You shouldn’t feel envious about her having someone waiting for her back home. You shouldn’t wish that you had someone to share your bed with tonight. You really don’t need to think about having to return home tonight alone, to a quiet home, without your girls waiting back home, without anyone keeping you company.
The only thing you fear the most about being left alone with your thoughts is to have the ghosts of your past coming back. Memories always come stronger at nights. Taking you back to the days when you were not alone, yet you are made struggling even harder than you are now when you tried to hold on to the crumbling marriage.
Nobody warned you that falling out of love can be painful. How lonely it made you feel. It scorned you to the point that you nearly sworn yourself off of love, just to keep your heart save. Whatever was left of it.
“Then why are you here hanging with us when you have a husband to cuddle with?” Emma teases, her voice snapping you out of it. Then Chloe leans in to hug you from the side.
“Because I also miss you guys,” she says, drawing everyone’s laughter.
You share a toast with the girls, clinking the glasses as you cheer, followed by a series of shots, and then a new round of drinks is shared at the table. You continue talking, laughing, catching up about life and sharing gossip and fussing over some problematic authors that both Emma and Chloe had to deal with for the past month. By the time the next round of shots arrives at the table, you notice Emma’s eyes looking over your shoulder and grinning at what she sees.
“Aren’t you going to say hi?” she teases, leaning in to make it less obvious that she has been observing the one person that you have been fighting not to look at.
You take a careful sip of your Moscow Mule as you think of an excuse. “We already waved at each other when we first came in.”
Truth be told, you already know that a simple wave was the bare minimum that you could have given him. Seeing Namjoon sitting there at the bar when you first came into this place caught you by surprise that you were left speechless. It was Namjoon who had first smiled at you, and the only thing you could do was wave your hand at him when your legs refused to take you to him.
“You know that’s not enough.” Emma rolls her eyes. “The guy practically saved your life.”
Your reaction—or lack thereof—over seeing Namjoon hadn’t gone unnoticed by your friends. But it was Emma who had explained to the others about who Namjoon was, earning you more questions and teasing from the girls which only made it even harder for you to ignore his presence.
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it if you offer something special tonight for a thank-you gift,” Chloe teases while wiggling her brows.
You laugh, snorting into your drink. “Sure he will,” you say, as you find it hard to imagine that someone like Namjoon would even be interested in being with someone like you. Not only because you know that he is younger than you, but you also know that there are many women out there—mostly those around his age—that he would find more attractive, compared to a single mom like yourself.
As always, your insecurities are quick to set in. Before you can drown it with a strong drink, Emma quickly protests, “You’re a MILF, ______. Stop selling yourself short.”
Nodding, Ina gently agrees with her by saying, “You definitely shouldn’t, seeing that he keeps glancing at you.”
“She means to say that he’s been eye-fucking you since we got here,” Chloe adds, snickering as she glances over her shoulder to catch Namjoon looking over.
“He so is!” Ina says, leaning across the table. “He’s hot. Go for it.”
Hearing this, you finally take a long sip of your drink, trying to gain some liquid courage. You have only gotten a few glasses of drink, the night has yet grown late, but you have already gotten quite a good buzz going on, and you are using it to grow some courage to look over at him. Sure enough, Namjoon is still there, with a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand, and a pair of eyes that are looking straight at you. A smile grows on his face as your gazes meet each other, though it is quickly hidden as he lifts his glass to his lips.
“See? He’s looking over again.” Emma starts giggling and gently nudges at your shoulder. “Go talk to him and practice that flirting skills of yours.”
“What flirting skills?” you ask while laughing. Deep down, your insecurities are still clawing at you, but having everyone pushing you to do something that you normally wouldn’t do—like flirting with a hot younger guy like Namjoon—is starting to make you want to change your mind. “Okay, but what do I say?”
“You can start by saying hi,” Ina says. She pushes her appletini in front of you. “Here,” she says. “Finish this, then go talk to him before someone else moves in on that fine piece of ass.”
Chloe nods her head as you pick up the glass of appletini and contemplate what you need to do next. “You can go to the bar and act like you’re there to order drinks from the bartender since we’ll be needing some more drinks.”
“Go on,” Emma joins in, obviously enjoying this.
You exhale a deep breath and bring the glass to your lips. The sweet liquor glides down your throat and you suddenly start wishing that you had gotten something stronger. Lowering the drink, you turn to look for him again. Namjoon isn’t looking at you this time, yet he is still there, talking to the pretty-looking bartender who was the main reason why Emma had chosen to come to this bar—as she seems to be having a sweet crush on the bartender.
“All right, here I go,” you say, as you finish the drink and muster the will to rise from your seat. Your legs are a bit wobbly when you try to walk across the room, but the muted voices of your friends who are cheering for you from behind give you the boost you need to continue going.
The floor between your table and the bar has been filled with people dancing while you are drinking, and they come in your way, making you lose sight of Namjoon for a moment. Not being able to see him only makes you feel calmer, until the crowd opens up and you see him once again, still sitting at the bar. Alone.
Eyes too focused on him, you accidentally bump into someone who walks right into your path. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologise while the person simply slides out of your way and returns to his dancing.
You hear a soft chuckle, a familiar sound that causes your breath to catch. You whip around and your eyes are locked with his. Immediately, something fuzzy builds in your chest, and you almost fall out of step when you notice it.
Are those butterflies you are feeling inside? You haven’t felt anything remotely like butterflies in—fuck—years.
As his smile grows wider at the sight of you walking towards him, you try to convince yourself that his presence isn’t affecting you. At all.
Your lady bits do not quiver for random men. You are certainly not having dirty thoughts about him. You keep telling yourself this as you get closer to him. And yet—
Your heart immediately speeds up at the sound of his voice—calling your name.
“_______, fancy seeing you here,” he says, looking genuinely pleased that those butterfly wings are beginning to flutter again, causing some funny feelings to rise in your stomach.
“I could say the same thing. It was a nice surprise to see you,” you respond to him and—fuck, did you really just try flirting with him? “Enjoying your night?”
“You can say that,” he says with a dimple smile of his, “But I’m finding more reasons to feel good tonight now that you’re here.”
Damn, he’s good, you wonder as you stifle a smile, and fail. Maybe he should be the one helping you sharpen your flirting skills instead of Emma or the other girls who always start making jokes about it and making you laugh each time you try it on them.
“A friend of yours?” You turn when the bartender comes, throwing you a smile as he speaks to Namjoon.
“Jin, this is _______,” Namjoon says, introducing the two of you. “This is Jin, an old friend who first convinced me to move here. He’s the main reason why I hang out at a place like this.”
You offer your hand to the bartender who takes it with a firm grip. “Hi, it’s nice to see you. I see that you and your friends are having quite a blast.”
Returning Jin’s smile, you playfully ask him, “Would it be too much if I thank you for encouraging Namjoon to move here?”
“Nope, not at all,” Jin laughs. “So, what can I get you?”
You quickly make your order, and while you wait for the bartender to finish preparing the drinks, you take the seat right by Namjoon’s side so you can have a little chat. Either the alcohol is starting to warm you up inside, or Namjoon’s friendly smile is making you more comfortable, every bit of tension you feel is lifted when you begin laughing at his simple jokes.
Once the drinks are ready, you reluctantly rise to return to your friends to deliver their shots. This time, you have a slight new pep in your footsteps, confidence brewing inside you after realising that you had conquered one of your insecurities tonight by chatting with Namjoon. Your friends welcome you with light cheers, and you celebrate by sharing a shot of whiskey and finishing the rest of your drink.
It doesn’t take long before your friends decide to end the night.
Ina is the one to step away first, when her husband calls her about one of their sons who had just gotten caught sneaking through the window after lying about doing his homework in his room. “We don’t know if he snuck out to see a girl or got himself in other kinds of trouble while he was out, but Dan needs me as a backup to get some answers from the little brat,” she says, kissing your cheek when she bids goodbye for the night.
Chloe is the one who needs to go home next, when her husband keeps calling her about feeling lonely at home. “I can’t tell if it’s sad or cute, but I think I’ve had enough to drink for the night. I already got an Uber picking me up outside.”
“Are you coming?” Emma asks you, her eyes looking over towards the bar before asking, “Or are you going to stay?”
You follow her gaze, looking at Namjoon chuckling along with whatever the bartender is saying to him. A part of you is telling you to call it a night, but there is a bigger part of you that feels intrigued, and curious to see what would happen tonight if you choose differently. To be selfish for once.
“I think I’m going to stay.”
Your answer brings a smile to Emma’s face. She seems proud and—relieved. You have no idea why she would feel this way over your decision to stay for a man, but she simply nods and says, “All right, then I’ll ride with you, Chloe. I’ll see you on Monday, girl,” she says to you as she leans in for a hug and whispers, “Go get him.”
You watch your friends go before finishing the rest of your drink and leaving your seat. Before you can change your mind, your legs take you towards the bar, returning to Namjoon’s side as if you are drawn to him like a moth to flame.
“Are you calling it a night too?” Namjoon asks you when he notices you coming, his gaze flickering to follow your friends as they weave through the crowd to find the exit door, as if expecting to see you following them.
“I don’t really want to go home yet.” You bite your lips. “I think I’m going to have another drink before leaving. Are you planning on leaving early?”
The smile that grows on Namjoon’s face makes your heart flutter. He does look good when he smiles. “And waste the chance to drink with you? No way.” You take the empty seat that he offers right next to him, which he gently pulls closer once you are settled in. “Let me order for you. What are you having?”
“Surprise me.”
Smiling, Namjoon orders you a Moscow Mule, causing you to raise your brows. “You ordered the same drink twice while you were here.”
“You have quite a good memory,“ you tease him, “Are you sure you don’t work here?”
Namjoon laughs. His eyes glimmer under the dim lighting when he says, “You’re not the kind of woman that I’d be so easy to forget.”
You can barely hold back from laughing, because you cannot find it in you to agree.
“You don’t believe me when I say that you’re not easy to forget?” he asks, moving closer to you until you can breathe in the musky cologne he is wearing.
“Me? I’m nothing special. I’m just”—you breathe out a sigh—”just me.”
He takes your hand, sliding his fingers to your wrist, his thumb finding your pulse where he rubs in circles. “I don’t know you very well—yet—but from what I’ve seen, ‘just you’ seems pretty damn special.”
You laugh again and take a drink, murmuring softly to him, “Thanks.”
He looks down for a moment, as if considering what to say. But he seems more determined when he lifts his gaze and looks back at you. There is something in his eyes which draws out the flutters in your chest. A new look which you have yet to see coming from him during the short time you’ve known him.
The look which shows a different kind of want.
And you can only guess what he is thinking right now. Biting your lips, you wait until he says the words, because there is nothing that you want more right now but to go with him. You enjoy talking to him, to be in his presence, and you have a feeling that you might enjoy it more if he offers something more.
It’s just one night, so you can possibly handle it. Right?
Fuck. All of a sudden, you don’t feel too sure about it.
But the gentle touch of his fingers on your skin, together with the deep timber of his voice when he hums, is slowly enticing you to open up, to give in to chance.
Namjoon’s eyes meet yours and the same dimple smile of his returns. You swallow hard, ignoring the sound of your pounding heart as he asks,
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Biting your lips, you can feel your chest tightening. Your heart beating fast. Hard. Your body moves to lean closer even without you meaning it to.
“Yes,” you whisper, and his face lights up, as if he was almost sure that you were going to refuse.
“Your place, or mine?”
A simple question, made with a light tone of voice that sounds almost joking, except that Namjoon’s heart is beating rapidly inside his chest as he says it. He already risked everything when he first asked to take you away from here. Now, it feels as if he is risking a bit more as he waits for your answer.
You bite your lips, and your hesitance only makes him feel worse. “Is there any difference?”
Namjoon wants to say, no, it doesn’t. The only thing that matters is for him to be spending this night with you. You push your hair back, and when your eyes meet his, he can almost feel your heart beating right up against his.
“Are your kids home tonight?” Namjoon tries when you’re not too sure. Somehow, he understands that you might be wary about coming home to his place when you barely know him.
“No, they’re at my parents.”
A smile is lifted on his face. “Then are you going to take me home?”
You return his smile and lean closer. It amazes him how quickly you switch—from shy and hesitant at one point, to feeling more confident and daring the next. And it turns him on even more when you say, “Only if you promise that you’re going to be a good boy.”
Namjoon calls an Uber to take you both home while you make a quick stop at the restroom before leaving the place. In the short time that he has to wait for you, Namjoon struggles to keep his composure. It’s almost laughable the way it makes him feel like a newbie. For him to feel so nervous as if he is inexperienced in this.
In a way, this is something new for him. Enough to make him feel exhilarated about what is to come.
He turns just in time to see you walking up to him. As if your moment away had given you the chance to recoup and find some resolve, you look as if you are shining, your smile looking bright and your eyes filled with lust and want and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms here and now just to kiss you senseless.
“Take me home, mama,” he jokingly says when he opens the car door for you, making you laugh.
Instead of answering him, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him in with you until you are seated in the backseat of the car together, bringing the heat that you share into the confines of the car as it takes you back home.
In the tight space within the car, the heat that has been building up between you becomes more palpable. You can tell that he is feeling it too. And he seems to be giving into it, when he keeps running the tips of his fingers from your hand to your wrist, when his knees keep pressing against yours, and when his eyes keep trailing from your face, down to your cleavage, and then back up to your neck, before lingering on your lips.
He wets his lips, as if he is picturing himself tasting you with a kiss. “Can I be honest with you?” he whispers, leaning closer.
“Of course.”
“I…couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits with a soft chuckle. It seems that his confession surprises him just as much as it does to you.
“Since the fire alert?”
“No,” he says with a grin, “ever since the night we first met.”
Was it at the supermarket? You wonder to yourself, trying to figure out what he could have possibly seen in you that night through the chaos with your girls.
No, it was before, you begin to realise, as you recall the night of the cookout event at your neighbours’ backyard, when Namjoon lingered close by after sharing a quick chat with you, and when you caught him watching you from the side while you were helping your daughters with their dinner plates.
“I told myself after watching you go that night that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, since you seemed to have a lot going on already and I probably didn’t deserve any second of your time. But then I saw you at the supermarket and I couldn’t resist saying hello.” His eyes find yours. You have no idea what kind of expression you are giving him while you are loss for words, but Namjoon’s smile softens. “And just when I thought it couldn’t have been more than a coincidence, we got the call to your office and there you were. It feels like we just keep crossing paths with each other. As if I am made to make a move.”
Noticing that you have grown silent, Namjoon tilts his head and asks, “What’s wrong?”
With a bitter laugh, you can only shake your head. “Nothing, it’s just—” You bite your lips, hating the way your insecurities have always been able to come to the surface the moment you try to push against your boundaries, when you try to take risks like what you are doing tonight. But you simply cannot help it. The feeling is clawing at your chest that you can barely breathe. “You know you could’ve gotten home with someone else. Someone who isn’t—”
You try to look away, yet Namjoon isn’t having it. With his fingers on your chin, he turns your face gently so you are forced to look at him again. “Is not—what?”
Your throat feels tight and your mouth feels bitter when you answer, “Older. A single mom. A—”
Namjoon presses his thumb on your lips to stop you from speaking further. “Remember what I told you earlier, and I really meant it,” he says, his gaze softening and heating up at the same time. “You are special. If you had said no to me tonight, I would’ve gone home alone, and spent the rest of the night finishing the last cans of beer I still have in my fridge or eating any frozen leftovers I could find before passing out on the couch.”
You blink. His honesty surprises you, yet you would be lying if you told yourself that it doesn’t make you feel flattered to hear him choosing you.
As if there is a switch inside you that has been flipped, everything fades to the back of your mind. All the voices that keep putting you down are silenced. The only thing left in your mind is the image of this gorgeous man spending his night alone in his quiet home, eating one of those boxed meals you saw peeking through his grocery bag and downing beers until he falls asleep, and you decide that you are not having it.
Seems like you are not the only one who needs to take some risks tonight just to experience some changes in life.
“Yep. That’s it. I’m sending you dinner next time.”
Namjoon laughs. “What—?”
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him down to you and press your lips on his, putting his words—and your thoughts—to silence with a kiss.
“I’m sorry for the mess. The perks of having little kids are always having too many things scattered around the house, and—”
It is still surprising to see how easy and quickly you change depending on the moment. You keep going from Miss In Control to a more subdued figure filled with insecurities. Namjoon knows that he shouldn’t, but he is adamant about changing that tonight, even if it makes him feel a myriad of things inside when you show multiple sides of you at once.
“It’s all right,” he cuts you off with a half smile, noticing how nervous you are getting about showing him your home.
As you move aside to start taking off your shoes and coat, Namjoon kicks his own shoes off and takes a quick glance around. Most of the lights are off, yet he can still see through the dim lighting to see what he needs to see.
Much like his own house, your place has an open space concept, where everything is visible from the foyer. He looks at the living room to his right, where the flat television hangs against the wall, surrounded by wooden shelves filled with books and trinkets and boxes filled with toys. To his left is the open kitchen, the room is slightly more spacious than his, and cleaner, with a hint of the scent coming from the last meal you cooked today still wafting through the air.
Truth be told, he doesn’t mind at all about how the house looks like at the moment. He even thinks that your home feels comfy, more welcoming and lively than his own, which makes him feel good and warm inside as he steps onto the threshold of your home.
Still, right now, he has other—more important—things to pay close attention to.
Namjoon waits until you are done taking your coat off before approaching you.
He places an arm around your shoulders, hinting at his need to get closer. When you show no sign of pushing him away, he pulls you towards him gently, and you willingly lean into him until you are engulfed completely in his warmth, and he feels your soft body pressing against his hard muscles. He bends down and your lips meet each other, warm and welcoming as they mesh into a kiss.
For a split second, Namjoon can feel you hesitating. But then your arms come up to wrap around him before returning the kiss. It feels gentle and soft, yet Namjoon can feel every cell in his body lighting up at the touch, and he allows that hope he ignored before to rise as he melts into the kiss
Namjoon is a firm believer that a person can tell quite a lot about the other by the way they kiss, and that the first kiss will define how the night will continue.
He feels you parting your lips slowly as your fingers curl into fists, balling the back of his shirt. He can taste the fruity taste of your lip-gloss which you put on during your toilet break before the two of you left the bar, and he can also taste a hint of the drink you had as he lightly brushes the tip of his tongue against yours.
The simple contact earns a soft hum from your throat, and then you tip your head back and open your mouth, asking him for more. He gladly gives it to you as he slides one hand up your waist and cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. Your grip around him tightens when his tongue pushes past your lips, bringing heat all over your body and his as he devours your mouth, and you respond by pressing your hips into his.
Feeling like he is burning from within, Namjoon starts to pull away. But you are not having it. You move your hand to his face, and then bring him back down until his lips are back on yours. You take charge this time, kissing him as if your very existence depends on it, and Namjoon smiles into the kiss as he follows your lead.
Tonight is going to be a good night.
As your mind grows hazy from the heated kiss, you start stumbling back until you are pressed against the front door.
It rattles under your weight, and starts making other noises when Namjoon presses harder against you the deeper the kiss you share. You feel his feet moving, sliding between your legs, only to stop when his toes come in contact with one of Hana’s squeaky toys that had somehow fallen in the foyer.
You break away from the kiss at the sound of his deep chuckle. The way he seems more amused than he is annoyed pleases you so that your body grows impossibly hotter. How can something so simple as a guy chuckling over a simple kid toy, completely understanding it instead of getting angry and complaining over something so trivial—just like someone you once knew and wish so badly to forget—look so incredibly hot?
Expecting to hear him say something about it, you lift your face to look at him, only for Namjoon to bend lower again and try to kiss your lips. Bunching his shirt with your fingers, you stop him and start pushing him through the dark hall and into the kitchen, where you know there won’t be any trail of toys getting in the way.
Namjoon lets you drag him around with a grin on his face. It seems to please him that you are the one taking the initiative, showing him that you want him just as much as he does.
As you push him deeper into the kitchen, your hands tracing his hard chest and your lips nipping his jawline, you wonder where all of this confidence is coming from.
It could be coming from the buzz rushing through your mind and body. It could also be this want inside you which has been lying dormant for so long, awakened simply by the heat of his kiss. Either way, you are surprised to find how easy it is to simply give in. To follow what your heart desires as if it is guiding you through the motions.
While most of the lights have been turned off when you left your house earlier, the light from the microwave is on, casting a soft, golden glow which falls nicely on him, accentuating every line—both on his face and his body—which you desire so badly to touch and kiss and taste.
You pull him down for that desirable kiss, and he dives straight down, his lips crashing into yours. And then he starts kissing you fast, hard, as if his very existence depends on this kiss. You kiss him back with the same need, taking his lip between your teeth, drawing a soft sound coming out of his throat. His chest rumbles against yours as he gently pushes you backwards.
Namjoon pins you against the kitchen counter, placing you between the hard counter and his rock-hard chest. He moves his knees between your legs, keeping them apart. You can feel his cock straining against his jeans as he bucks his hips forward, pressing roughly into your stomach. Then he moves his mouth to your neck, kissing, sucking, making you moan, distracting you from the object of his desire that you want so badly to touch.
Without unlatching his lips from your skin, Namjoon sweeps his fingers across your collarbone, finding the strap from your top that is already hanging off your shoulder. He pulls away, his dark gaze following his fingers as he unhooks the other strap off your shoulder until your top falls down to your waist, exposing your lacy dark purple bra which you had intentionally chosen for the night.
He watches closely as your chest rises and falls with your ragged breath, murmuring softly, “Beautiful. You are so hot, baby.”
Your entire body shudders with the sound of his deep voice, recognising the hunger in it. Heat forms in your belly after knowing that his words are meant for you. He slowly walks his palms up your body, reaching up to cup your breasts with his strong palms.
A moan slips out of your lips at his touch, when the gentle pressure he is giving on your mounds sends heated sparks through your body. The sound you are making seems to snap something in him, as he moves his mouth back to yours, kissing you softly, teasing, while his thumbs begin to move over your covered nipples in small circles.
You draw a sharp inhale of breath at the delightful sensation he is making you feel, which is swallowed by his kiss. Your chest rises, pressing your breasts into his palms. The shiver running through your body feels so intense, blocking everything else as you push your tongue back into his mouth at the same time your hands slip under his shirt.
His skin feels warm. His chest feels firm and broad. You can feel his breath hitching at the touch of your fingers, his body shivering as your hands start inching closer and closer to his cock as you walk them down his torso.
It draws a deep groan from him, yet he keeps kissing you. He continues to caress your breasts until your nipples grow hard against his palms, and that is when he finally moves his hands down. You only get to pop the button of his jeans open before he catches your wrists, stopping you from going further as he brings them to your back, pinning them together to confine you.
You push and strain against his grasp, only to fail when his hold is firm. Surprisingly, being restrained in his hold and losing control is not making you feel powerless. Instead, it becomes a complete turn-on to have someone taking control of you that your body heats up with a stronger need for more.
Shocked at this revelation, you pull back with a gasp.
“Let me touch you,” you whine as you try to pull your hands out of his, drawing a deep chuckle from him.
“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want to see all of you first.”
He kisses you again, deep enough to make you arch your back so your hips are pressed into his. You widen your legs and he presses forward, his toned thigh pressing at your pulsing center. The sensation you feel as you begin rubbing your covered pussy over his thigh feels explosive, and it is driving you insane that you cannot touch him at the same time.
You feel him smiling in the kiss, clearly enjoying this; your desperation and need, and the way you are chasing for pleasure even under his restraint. He moves his mouth to your neck again, nipping at the skin. You try to twist your arm to set yourself free, but Namjoon lifts his head to stop you with a look.
“These naughty hands need to stay back, baby. Do you hear me?” he asks as he guides your hands to rest against the small of your back, your wrists resting on the hard countertop pressing from behind you.
Your mouth falls open, but every complaint and defiance that you want to give him fades under his dark gaze. Pulling away, Namjoon grabs the hem of your top and pulls it over your head, dropping it behind him, before he once again guides your hands to return to their position on your back. He leans back just enough for him to run his gaze over your body, giving you an appreciative look while humming softly.
The heat of his gaze only brings back your insecurities, however, as you grow nervous under his trailing eyes, and you look away, casting a quick glance down your middle. Having two kids over the years has left a few things behind; light scars, stretch marks marring your skin, and uneven curves forming in places which you can only hide under your daily clothes. You realise only now one of the many reasons why you had never considered dating and being intimate again with someone—anyone—and much less have any interest in having hookups or one-night-stand.
Namjoon notices the change of mood in your silence. He captures your chin and gently draws your gaze back to his face. “Don’t be shy,” he murmurs as he presses a light kiss on your lips, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You blink, once again his words winning as you feel your heart strengthening, gaining back your confidence. “You really think so?” you ask him after taking an audible breath.
“God, yes,” he says with a slight groan in his voice, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Don’t you ever question it, baby.”
Biting down your smile, your eyes flutter down with pleasure and relief. “Good.”
“Now, where were we?” he asks as he lets go of your chin, his arms dropping to his sides. He reaches down to unbutton your tight pants, yet you beat him to it when you take the hem of his shirt in your hands and help him pull it off, before tossing it away out of reach.
“Naughty girl. What did I say about those hands?” he asks, and then he is kissing you again to distract you from taking back control.
He wraps his arm around your waist. For a second, you expect him to lift you up and set you up on the counter. Just like those scenes you have often read in the spicy romance book you have edited over the years. But then he surprises you when he lifts you up to carry you away, taking you towards the dining table instead.
With your eyes fluttering close in the kiss, the only thing you notice is the sound of the chair scrapping on the floor, before he releases you and falls back. Your mind is hazy when you open your eyes, seeing him sitting back on the dining chair while guiding you to stand between his parted legs.
Swaying a little, you lean into his touch as he sneaks his fingers down the waistband of your tight pants and begins pulling them down. “Let me see these off, baby.”
He doesn’t have to say it twice, as you slip your thumbs down the band of your pants and begin wiggling it down your legs. You keep your eyes on him while kicking the pants away, ignoring the shudder running through your body at the heat of his gaze and the chill breeze falling on your exposed skin.
Sneaking a glance down your body, you follow his gaze to be able to see what he is seeing. You are relieved that you had at least thought of choosing a matching pair of new undergarments to wear tonight, instead of wearing your old mismatched ones like you usually do when you have to rush in the mornings.
Standing in front of him like this makes you feel self-conscious. But the desire that is so palpable in his eyes helps you ignore all unappealing thoughts you ever have about yourself.
Smiling coyly to him, you sweep your hands up your stomach, slowly reaching up over your breasts. His hands begin to clench on his side as he watches you kneading your covered breasts. You watch him licking his lips when you press your breasts until they come together, offering him with a gentle voice, “Do you like what you’re seeing? Do you want me to take this off too?”
“No, not yet. I want to enjoy seeing you like this a bit longer,” Namjoon answers you with a deep voice that sounds almost like a growl. “Come here.”
At his gentle command, your legs move on their own, taking you closer to him. He grabs your waist, keeping you steady as you climb onto his lap, your legs spreading wide around his waist and your arms come around his broad shoulders.
Being in this position allows you to feel everything. To feel more.
Every part of him feels hard against your soft body. His warmth comes pressing on every inch of your skin, allowing you to feel the heat rushing under, pooling from between your legs. You feel exposed, and the sensation is intensified as you have your legs opened for him.
Smiling, Namjoon walks his hand around your waist. With his palm splayed on your back, he gently pushes you forward. Once again, you collide into each other, your breasts are crushed against his chest, and your lips are entangled with his in a hard, needy kiss.
His kiss is slow, gentle, almost languid. Almost as if he is trying to savour the moment, yet it feels as if you are melting into him. You can still feel him taking control of this moment when his lips are pressing hard against yours and his tongue slipping into your mouth to swallow the sounds you are making.
In the rising pleasure, your brain is slowly turning into mush. Your eyes flutter close, and you revel in the sensations that he is bringing to your body, to every single touch and kiss. You drown yourself in his heated kiss, as he swallows your moans with his mouth and tongue. You lean into his strong hands as one moves up your stomach, cupping your breast and rubbing against your hardened nipple, and the other moves along the curves of your body, trailing down your waist to your hips, before cupping your soft bottom.
His palm presses harder into your soft flesh, making you grow alert of your own movements, finally noticing that your body seems to have gained a mind of its own, moving and grinding his lap in the heat of the moment.
Your covered center starts growing hot and wet as you keep rubbing against his hips. A gasp escapes your throat as you feel his covered hard-on pressing at your pulsing center. Using his palm, Namjoon guides your steady rocking, each thrust forward falling in tune with each thrust and stroke of his tongue in your mouth.
Within moments, the heat inside your core rising into small waves of pleasure. Drunken in lust, you lean into him more to chase it, rocking harder, faster, pressing more into his hard cock until you feel like you are hanging on the edge of release.
“Oh, God,” you gasp against his mouth, moments too close to your first orgasm.
Namjoon mutters a curse, and his hands tighten on the soft flesh of your bottom, putting everything into a halt. He flips you around to face away from him, doing it with such ease as if you weigh nothing. As you fall back against his chest, your knees drape over his thighs, spreading wide, your throbbing pussy facing away from his heat, away from the its final release.
“You need relief, baby?” His voice sounds thick as he whispers to your ear. Without waiting for your answer, his fingers zero in on the exact place where you need them to be, as he begins rubbing your clit from over your delicate panties. “Hmmm? I need you to answer me. Let me know what you want.”
“Yes,” you hiss at his touch, barely able to answer his question while urging him on as you rock your hips into his touch. Namjoon’s other hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading and squeezing until you feel your nipple growing hard under your bra. The ache building on your breasts pulses in the same rhythm as the throbbing you feel building on your clit, which he presses the pad of his fingers onto, moving them in circles.
“God, Namjoon,” you whine, already panting when he keeps touching all the right places, inciting all the reactions from your body as heat rises from your core. Reaching down, you place your hand over his, your fingers pressing atop of his strong digits as you press against them, causing his touch to grow firm and steady, before you slip your fingers under and slide your panties aside for him.
Namjoon’s chest rumbles as he groans deeply. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby. Offer that sweet little pussy for me.”
Your cheeks flush with warmth upon hearing his words, and then the warmth spreads through your body when his fingers move to touch your flesh. His fingers are big and strong, yet delicate at the same time. They glide over your slit, which has grown embarrassingly wet, capturing every essence of your arousal as he moves them between your folds. You press your pelvis down to meet his touch, urging him on, and he complies by working his middle finger inside you.
It feels like forever since the last time you have had sex, and it surely shows because you can already feel your orgasm building the second he starts pumping his finger inside you. The pleasure feels maddening. Enough to make you lose control of yourself as your body rocks with him. You don’t even recognise the sounds coming out of your throat as you embrace the sensations he brings out of you.
As he feels you giving in to the pleasure, Namjoon adds a second finger, stretching you further.
Your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out with pleasure. Your body falls lax against him, powerless against his touch. So he moves his other arm down, wrapping it around your waist to keep you from falling as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, all while pressing the heel of his palm against your clit until you are weeping with desire. When he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, your pussy clutches on emptiness.
Needing friction, or something to relief this new need of yours, you begin pressing your wet mound against his thigh, intending to start rubbing against it until you find some kind of release. But Namjoon stops you by delivering a sharp slap, right between your legs.
“Naughty,” he growls in your ear. “I thought this pussy is mine?”
Your hips shoot up at the lingering ache, which awakens the throbbing inside your pussy, causing your mind to go fuzzy with the mixed of pain and pleasure he brings to your body.
Namjoon spanks your pussy again, lighter this time, before going slightly harder when coming back for the third time. Then, as if he knows that you are about to explode, he shoves two fingers right back inside you and starts fucking you with them, moving hard and rough, no longer holding back. It feels intense, sending you light speed towards the peak of your pleasure.
With a cry slipping out of your lips, your head falls back on his shoulder as the wave of pleasure engulfs you. Digging your nails into his forearms, you ride his fingers, bucking against each thrust of his hand, your walls clenching tightly around him, and your toes curling underneath. Your orgasm comes to you strongly, going on and on while Namjoon keeps his fingers wedged inside you, and you can feel your walls contracting around them as you come all over them.
Dear God, help me.
You find yourself praying. Never before had you ever lost control the way you do now. Never once have you ever felt so much pleasure, to make you feel something so intense that you feel like you are losing your mind.
Namjoon waits until you come down from your release before easing his fingers out of you. Your body grows limp against his, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around you to hold you still. His lips find your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss while he smooths your panties back in place.
“That’s it, sweet mama. Relax with me,” he murmurs in your ear, helping you calm down before rearranging your position until you come to face him once more, your legs straddling his toned thighs, pressing against his muscles, his warmth, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat under your palms.
“Everything okay?”
You are still too delirious that you can barely think straight, yet you manage to nod and whisper, “Yeah. Everything’s good.”
Looking into his eyes, you reach down between your bodies and press your palm over his covered bulge. “But I’m not sure that you’re feeling the same.”
Groaning deeply, Namjoon’s eyes flutter to close. You continue stroking his covered cock, feeling it hardening under your touch and pushing against his pants that is partly undone. “Keep touching me like that, mama. And I’ll fuck you right here, right now. Or I’ll take you right on top of that counter, right where you’ll be making breakfast for your sweet girls the first morning they’re home.”
His threat draws a moan from deep within your throat. Biting your lips, you steal a glance towards the kitchen counter. As tempting as it sounds to follow your wanton desire, to be taken hard and rough right where you spend most of your days and mornings, you want something different. You don’t want this to end so quickly, for the night to feel so instant, and you want to savour this pleasure for as long as you are allowed to.
“Mmm…No, we can’t have that,” you whisper, turning to him to nip his jaw, making him groan. Carefully, you step back from his lap. Your legs are trembling when you try to stand on your own, yet you muster a smile as you calmly say, “Come.”
You hold out your hand and he grabs it as he rises to his feet. He follows you down the hall and up the stairwell. Past the landing which is surrounded by framed pictures of yourself with your family and your sweet girls and their creative drawings filling the walls, you continue walking upstairs, feeling more self-conscious the closer you get to your bedroom.
Right before your nerves begin to get in the way, Namjoon’s arms come around you, holding you to his chest as you crash through the doorway to your bedroom. His lips capture yours, swallowing the sound of your laughter until you fall backwards on the bed.
Standing on the foot of the bed, Namjoon stands tall, a solid figure standing at the center of your world of chaos. He says nothing as he runs his gaze over your body, appreciating what he sees one last time which brings back your confidence. All for knowing that he is liking what he sees.
Drawn by the urge to touch him, to feel, you push yourself up and start tugging his pants down. “Off—” you murmur as you struggle to peel the damn thing off of him, earning his chuckle. Namjoon helps you halfway, stopping briefly to pull something out of his back pocket before he tosses his whole pants away. He wastes no more time to continue where he left off, as he pushes you back to the bed and lowers himself to you.
Your arms go around his shoulders to welcome him. Your eyes meet each other again, allowing you to see something that you failed to notice before. Behind his heated gaze, the warm dimple smile, and the alluring words filled with his raw desire, lies another emotion haunting like a shadow.
An emotion that you know too damn well as it mirrors your own.
Desperation.
Swallowing hard, you feel the same emotion coming out of you in strides; the desperation to belong and to be happy; to be able to move through life without being haunted by the unwarranted fear of getting hurt. The desperation to feel.
Allowing that emotion to take over, you pull him down to you and kiss him deeply. You run your hands down his back, pressing at his spine until he lowers his hips onto yours. You can feel his hard cock pressing on you, its wet tip sticking out from the top of his briefs, rubbing against your skin. You regret not having the chance to have a look at it, to appreciate it through more than your dainty touch. Yet you cannot deny the desperate need to feel him inside you, filling you up until there is nothing left of you when he is done.
Arching your back, you rock against him, pressing your tender center against his bulge. His mouth unlatches from yours, and then he pulls the lacy cups of your bra with a rough tug, tucking them under your breasts to push them up. He keeps his palms on them, touching them directly this time, skin to skin, bringing all the shudders back and rising twofolds as you cry out his name.
His mouth finds your neck, and the touch of his lips is almost enough to make you come and unravel right there and then, yet you manage to hold back with a bite of your lip. Without taking his mouth off of you, Namjoon runs his hand down, finding your center and pressing down. The pleasure sparks through your body like fireworks as he rubs in circles against your covered center, pressing against your slit, rubbing at your covered clit, and then finding your wetness to draw out more essence out of you.
Every nerve in your body comes awake and lights up at the same time, allowing you to feel everything that he is giving you. Engulfed in the pleasure, you barely feel him as Namjoon starts moving down, spreading his fingers down your thighs to part your legs for him, before plunging his head between your quivering thighs.
You feel a soft tug at your panties, and then cold breeze touches your skin as Namjoon slides the center of your panties aside, exposing your tender pussy. “I wanted to taste you so badly,” he murmurs against your skin as he presses his lips on the apex of your thigh, then he moves to the other side, before reaching to the center, drawing a sharp cry out of you when he presses a kiss right at your folds.
His tongue drags through your flesh before he sucks gently on your swollen bud. A shiver shoots right up through your body as pleasure sparks from beneath, and he starts fucking you with his tongue. In and out he presses and licks with his warm, soft tongue, tasting your essence with a deep hum, while his mouth keeps stealing a kiss and sucking, intensifying the pleasure.
With your hands sinking into the sheets beneath you, your hips begin to move, rocking against his mouth and riding the sensation as it grows more and more intense. You lift your head to watch him work. The look he gives you when he returns your gaze causes your body to twitch, your muscles tightening as pleasure coils through your core.
With a grin, Namjoon buries his face deeper, his teeth grazing at your clit before lapping at the swollen bud with his tongue to take away the pinch of pain. The sensation sends your body falling back. Still rocking your hips to ride the pleasure, you twist the sheets in one hand, and then take a handful of his short hair with the other.
It doesn’t take long before the familiar wave of pleasure starts rolling through your body, rising intensely from the depth of your core. Your breath quickens as you are climaxing into his mouth. It comes so strongly that you can feel it rushing all the way down to your toes. A series of breathless moans come out of your lips at the same pace as the pulses of pleasure coming alight from inside as your orgasm rolls through your body.
Your head is ringing with the waves of your orgasm that you barely aware of how you are pulling at his hair, twisting the short strands in your grasp as you writhe beneath him. Yet he doesn’t stop. Not even when he feels you slowly coming down from your high.
Namjoon continues to lap at your taste, licking away your release as he murmurs gently against your mound, “Fuck, you taste so damn good, baby.”
His voice fades in and out of you, until he slips a finger inside you, pressing against your inner walls. He pushes right in, curling the tip as he pulls out, finding the sweet spot that sends another jolt of pleasure through your body. Realising this, he adds another finger and starts working them at the same rhythm as the movement of his tongue. Your legs begin shaking, your hips are rising against his other palm that is resting on your lower belly to keep you down, but nothing holds you from erupting as the force of your second orgasm quickly rolls through you, sending you over the edge with a cry.
You feel a shift on the bed as Namjoon moves on top of you and presses his lips on yours. The remnants of your orgasm is still pulsing through you, and your ears are still ringing, that you can only take what he is giving you, letting him bring you back to the present with his kiss.
Once you manage to catch your breath, you bring your hands up to him and start pushing his briefs down his hips. He rises slightly from you, taking away his weight and his warmth as he kicks his briefs down his ankle and away. His hand reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his hard girth.
This time, you take the chance to appreciate his beauty. Just like his hard body, his cock seems beautiful, big and thick and heavy even in his strong palm.
With his eyes on your face, Namjoon begins lowering himself on you. Your hips rise to welcome him when you feel his cock falling heavy on your stomach. Your hand reaches down between you, as if you are under a spell. Your fingers wrap around him, drawing a soft gasp from his lips.
Licking your lips, you watch yourself giving him a few light strokes. He seems to enjoy this, as his hips slowly move to return each stroke, each brush of your palm with a thrust of his cock. Groaning deeply, Namjoon bends down to cover you with his hard body. His lips find your neck, kissing the column of your throat as his fingers return to your mounds, pressing into your slit and using the slickness of your arousal and release to move around your entrance.
“Namjoon, please—” Your breath catches when you feel the tip of his finger pressing at your entrance, pushing against your sensitive walls. He enters you slowly with his fingers. It feels delightful, yet you are ready to feel more. “Mhhh…not enough,” you whine breathlessly, “I want you…inside…now.”
He chuckles against your throat, and the vibrations you feel coming from his body aren’t exactly helping to lessen the pool of desire between your legs, nor the tight clench of your walls around his fingers. He gives your pussy a few more thrusts of his fingers before he pulls them out, and reaches out to the other side of the bed.
The soft crinkle sound of a foil gets your heartbeat speeding up in your chest. It’s happening, the voice in your head whispers. Excitement rolls through you, and a wicked through flashes through your head when you meet his gaze again.
You bite your lip and smile, and then you lift your hands, pushing against his shoulders to bring him down onto the mattress. You follow him as he falls back, and then you climb on top of him, enjoying the thrill rushing through you when you see the shock clearly flashing through his gaze.
He grips your hips as you straddle him, keeping you steady until you are sitting in the right position. So right that you can feel his hard cock pressing at your slick center from beneath.
“Well, damn,” he chuckles as he watches you press down your hips on him. “That’s it. Take control, mama. Show me what you want from me.”
You make a humming sound as you begin rocking over him, pressing down against his length. Your panties have grown completely soiled, placed improperly over your mound that you can feel him partly rubbing against your skin. “You know what I want,” you whisper, moaning when you feel his girth rubbing at your clit.
Hoping to feel more, you continue rocking, rubbing your center along the length of his cock. But it isn’t enough. The panties keep getting in the way just when you are close to getting what you want. You reach down to begin peeling the damn thing off of you when Namjoon takes over.
“Let me help you with that,” he says, before he suddenly lifts himself up to a sitting position. His hands are quick to catch your waist to stop you from falling back, keeping you on his lap as he moves his hand to your back.
His eyes look down on your heaving chest, and then his hands are pulling at your undergarments. Starting from your bra, as he expertly peels it off of you within a blink of an eye, then continuing to reach down. The ripping sound of your panties as they fall apart fills the room before you can feel yourself being freed from its presence. The strong pull that he gives on the flimsy fabric barely feels like anything on your skin, your mind too muddled to process it until it is too late.
The moment it dawns on you what is happening, there is nothing else that you can do but to watch with wide eyes, mouth gaping in shock, as Namjoon lifts your ruined panties to his lips and breathes in.
“You won’t be needing them for a while,” he says with a hum at the sound of your sharp inhale of breath.
“You’re so bad.” An incredulous laugh comes out of you as he tosses the tattered panties away.
His hands return to your waist then and he pulls you closer, settling you down nicely on his lap as he asks, “Maybe I am. Are you going to punish me for being a bad boy?”
“Maybe I will,” you tease him as you run your fingers up his chest, pushing him back down. “Naughty boy.”
The glimmer of the foil he is holding between his fingers catches your attention. You pick it up, ripping the foil and letting the rubber fall on your palm. “Is this okay?”
He nods, and then his eyes darken as you gently slide the condom down the length of his cock. Your can feel him twitching under your touch, his head falling back briefly with a groan coming out of his throat when the tips of your fingers meet his skin. Once he is perfectly covered, you move back into position.
Namjoon gently guides you back over him, straddling him once again without anything else getting in the way this time.
You lean forward and place a kiss on his lips, one that feels a bit too sweet and shy. For a moment, your confidence wanes. Being on top of him, unrestrained, and being in complete control makes you feel subconscious with yourself. It makes you feel insecure, suddenly feeling worried that you might not be enough.
As you sit up, your pussy rocks against his cock. You can feel his girth pressing against the dampness which has been growing between your legs, the heat of his body radiates from him and it transfers through your body with each pulse of his blood that you feel against you.
His fingers find their place between your legs, rubbing your clit in slow circles, drawing moans after moans, shudders rolling through your body that you begin moving in response to his touch. Your hips buck up against his hand, desperate for friction. You continue rolling your body as he presses just a bit harder, drawing yet another moan from your lips that comes together with the intense shiver surging from your core.
Enjoying the way you are reacting to him, he rises up to steal a kiss, chuckling softly against your mouth when he feels the twitch of your hips when his cock is pressing harder against your folds. He pulls back, showing you his wicked grin that has your heart beating rapidly.
You lift your hips, and he reaches down to position his cock against your opening. Your body instantly trembles when you feel him nudging against your pussy, spreading your entrance to allow himself in. Then you begin to slide down on him, taking it slow as you take his cock inside you, inch by delicious inch. Your legs quiver around him as you feel him spreading your tight walls, yet you welcome him with a slow moan, allowing yourself to take him deeper as you continue going down, until he is almost fully inside you and you are nearly resting on his hips.
A pulse rocks through you once, and you carefully lift yourself up, sliding up his length and coming back down, getting deeper in your descent.
“You are so perfect,” he whispers to you as you continue riding his cock, keeping a slow pace as you adjust yourself to his size.
Namjoon falls back, letting you take control. Something that no other person has ever done before. He keeps his eyes on you as you continue moving on top of him, sliding up and down the length of his cock, while embracing the waves of pleasure that you get to feel from your constant rocking. His eyes are filled with admiration as he watches you move, your head falling back at the height of your pleasure, your chest arching, showing him the sight of your shaking breasts.
“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, taking your breasts in his hands. You relish every single sensation you are feeling with a moan. It feels incredible. Not just this—the sex, the feeling of him being buried inside your heat, filling you up and giving you pleasure—but also for feeling like you are free.
Sitting naked on top of such a gorgeous man, rocking up and down his cock, enjoying the pleasure without your nerves getting in the way, your insecurities left forgotten. It feels so damn empowering to be owning up to your sexuality, to your wanton desire, after having it denied for so long. All because of your haunting past making you feel like you are less than the person you are now.
These thoughts push you to ride him harder, faster, your fingers sinking into the sheets on either side of him to anchor you against him, while his fingers grow tighter on your hips to help you ride him to chase your pleasure.
“That’s it, baby,” he urges you on with a breathy voice, deep groans slipping out of him when you begin fucking him wildly. “Go on, let it go, mama.”
Holding you up against him, Namjoon begins rocking his hips, thrusting up to meet you in your descend. The maddening pleasure rocks through you, and another wave of climax sets off, coiling from your core, up to your lower belly. And right as you are ready to plunge into your climax, Namjoon bends forward, capturing one of your nipples with his mouth and begins sucking, while he reaches up to pinch the other with his fingers.
With a sharp cry, you unravel completely without fail. Your orgasm comes to you not in waves but an explosion, the pain only intensifies the pleasure as it hits, and your body trembles as you embrace it.
Everything fades in and out as your mind and body recovers from the intense high. Your legs are quivering too much that you fall onto his chest, and Namjoon carefully flips you to the side until you are on your back. Ears once again ringing, the sounds of him moving on the sheets seem so distant. But you can feel the dip when he lowers himself on you, his lips finding yours, bringing you back, and then pressing against your neck to quiet down the rapid pulsing of blood surging under your skin.
Once your mind regains clarity, you notice his hand moving. You open your eyes when you cannot feel his touch, and realise that he is giving himself some lazy strokes. “You haven’t gotten yours,” you whisper with a raspy voice, and his grin returns.
“You’ve already came too many times, so—”
Shaking your head, you reach up and pull him back to you. “I can’t be the only one feeling good tonight,” you insist as you capture his lips, enticing him with a light bite. As he returns the kiss, your legs spread open for him, welcoming him back to you. “I want to make you feel good too.”
Groaning, Namjoon deepens the kiss. Still stroking himself, he uses the other hand to gently touch your tender pussy, making sure that you won’t hurt if he continues. “Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, before feeling you nod.
Unable to wait long, he quickly gets between your legs again. He covers you with his heat, his toned chest pressing down against your body, delightfully engulfing you with his warmth. Then his hips rock forward, pressing the wet tip of his stiff cock against your pulsing heat. Your back arches the moment you feel him pushing, just enough until you feel the tip penetrating your entrance.
“Namjoon—” you gasp out his name, and his hands come down to your hips, holding you still as he enters you, thrusting deep and slow.
Your legs are spread wider, giving him room to get as deep as he possibly can until your hips are flushed against each other.
Fuck yes, you can hear yourself screaming in your head, while your mouth gapes open with a breathless moan at how full you are feeling with him snugged inside your pussy.
“God, fuck—you feel amazing,” he breathes out as he too becomes still.
Your body clenches around his cock at hearing his words, loving how his praise is stroking at your ego. It seems that your body has gotten used to him so well that he feels like a perfect fit inside you.
“You don’t feel too bad yourself,” you playfully tease him, making him groan deeply that you can feel his entire body vibrating all the way to your core.
“Not bad, huh?” he groans, almost sounding feral when he continues his gentle rocking. “Guess I’ll have to stop holding back, then.”
With a groan, he pulls back almost all the way out and thrusts back into you, rocking both of you against the mattress as he fucks you into it. You grab tightly on the messy sheets beneath you, already tangled by the previous rocking and fucking and growing even messier now that he is picking up pace immediately. It feels intense, making you feel delirious as he moves in and out of you rapidly. And it feels so damn good that you just don’t want it to stop.
“Oh, baby...so perfect,” he gasps, and you open your eyes to see his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he gets lost in your body.
It turns you on so badly to see a man unraveling this way—to be so lost in his pleasure and growing feral as he gives in completely to the sensation. At the same time, it makes you feel powerful, knowing that you are the one making him this way. For someone like him to let his guard down and show you the real part of him. To let you see how raw and passionate he becomes when he is bringing pleasure to both of your bodies.
It makes you feel so hot, and it feels so good, that it practically sends you straight into your final climax. To unravel the same way he does at the pleasure of his lovemaking.
“Keep tightening around me like that, and I won’t last long,” he warns you, while you can only hold back a grin. As if you will take his words like you would to a threat.
You run your hands up his chest, feeling up his toned muscles as they strain with each thrust he is giving you, before you reach up to the back of his neck and grab a handful of his short hair. A smile grows on your face when he lets out another groan, and his hips nearly buckle and twitch as his rocking begins to grow haste.
He’s close.
“Oh, fuck. I’m coming,” he groans, although it almost sounds like he is shouting.
“Yes, please. Come with me. I’m also there,” you whimper breathlessly when your orgasm starts to build.
His grip on your hips tightens as he begins pumping into you fast and hard, hitting all the right spots. You almost believe that he is also growing firmer, harder, bigger, that the only thing you can feel is him, rubbing against your throbbing walls and pushing you over the edge.
A scream slips out of you when the orgasm hits like a massive wave. Your back is almost lifted completely off the bed as your entire body vibrates with pleasure. You can hear him shouting under the sound of your rapid heartbeat, before you feel him pulsing, spilling his heat into you as he joins you in his own orgasm.
Your legs are wrapped around his hips while your arms are hooked around his neck as you hold onto him, refusing to let go as you relish the waves of your orgasm until they begin to settle. You have barely gotten back control of your breathing when he leans down, capturing your lips into a kiss.
The kiss is slow, almost languid, and just as gentle as the movement of his hands as he runs them down your sweaty body. You can still the spasms of your climax lingering as he slowly pulls out of you, allowing you to feel his presence even as he pulls away, dropping right beside you with a soft grunt.
Your eyes are already fluttering to close while he takes his time taking care of his soiled condom and tossing it away to the trash. Yet you are still coherent when he returns, engulfing you in his strong arms, filling your breath with his scent.
“That was fucking amazing,” he mumbles against your skin as you feel his lips pressing on your bare shoulder.
“Hmm…yes, it was…”
A sigh leaves your lips. The content feeling weaving through your body steals the words that you want so badly to say.
Incredible. Astounding.
“Magical,” you find yourself whispering, drawing a soft chuckle from him.
You look at him through your hazy eyes, finding him looking back at you with a different shadow lingering in his gaze which makes you want to say the words that you never expected you would say to him.
Stay the night.
The words die on your tongue as sleep is slowly dragging you down. You try to fight it, even if you aren’t quite sure about saying those words out loud. You have no idea what will come out of this. All you can think about is that you don’t want this to end too soon.
“The girls are out all weekend, aren’t they?” His voice breaks the silence, forcing you to open your eyes.
“Yes, they’re staying at their grandparents. I won’t have to pick them up until Monday afternoon,” you breathlessly answer, recalling faintly how your mother had offered to take Suzy to school and Hana to kindergarten so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way to her house on a Sunday, expecting you to sleep through your hangover and spend the day resting. “Why are you asking?”
“I just wasn’t sure how they would react coming home to find a grown-ass man snuggling with their mom.” He softly chuckles, and in a brief moment of silence, you see a different look appearing in his eyes. A part of him that seems more vulnerable coming out of him in waves, right before he asks you, “Unless you want me out of here?”
Once again, you can see yourself in his gaze. To once again share the same emotions, the same vulnerability which feels too damn familiar. Deep down, you start wishing that you didn’t see it. Because seeing this side of him only makes you care a lot more than you should for someone who is only supposed to be your one-night-stand. Because seeing it only makes you want more.
You close your eyes and try not to think too deeply about it. Not when your mind is still muddled from the wild sex you just had with him. And when his touch is still lingering on your skin.
You can worry about this tomorrow, you hear the same small voice in your head whispering, and you decide that you are going to listen this time.
Pushing yourself up, you pull the blanket from the foot of the bed and drag it up to cover both of your nakedness before sliding back to him. “Nope, you’re staying,” you firmly say as you tuck him in. “I promised to make you dinner, but I really don’t have any energy left to leave the bed right now, so you can make it up by helping me make breakfast tomorrow.”
Namjoon laughs. He visibly relaxes beside you when he mutters, “I love it when you boss me around.”
You stop to look at him, biting your lips before asking, “Would you mind if I keep doing that?”
His smile softens, and the alluring dimple returns for a brief second as he leans in to kiss your temple. “Boss me around anytime, mama. I’ll be good. I promise.”
Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please leave a like and reblog to share with your friends and let me know what you think. See you in the next one!
PS. You can get to know Jin the bartender and read his story in Blurred Lines.
Update | you can read more in the short story: Dinner with Mista Joonie
Plot: Picture this… your boyfriend enjoyed his ice cream a little too much and you decide to clean up the mess he made.
🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Kim Mingyu (SVT)
🎥 Genre: light SMUT [+18], established relationship
🎥 Word count: 0.9k+
🎥 Warnings: swearing, exhibitionism, grinding, nipple play, orgasm denial/edging
🎥 Notes: I am a little later than usual but it’s here, voilaaa 💜
🎥 Shout out: thank you @nothoughtsjustfic my lemon drop for reading it through for me!!!
♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡
Set The Scene Masterlist — Masterlist
God, he's so fucking messy.
That was the thought that ran through your mind as you observed your boyfriend with fascination from your spot beside him.
The two of you'd had a busy week at work so you decided to spend this warm and sunny Saturday lounging by your pool in the garden. And while you had been reading for the majority of the afternoon, Mingyu had gone for a swim and was currently recovering from said activity with a cold sweet treat that had you more than a little distracted from your book.
The man was greedily licking at his ice cream as he laid on one of the lounge chairs, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that half of the cream-colored substance was steadily dripping down his fingers, or that you were ogling him like a piece of meat.
Mingyu was a messy eater, always had been, but you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it was one of the things you adored about him so much. However, not once had you thought that the sight of him eating so messily was arousing. But then again, he was half naked with all his perfectly defined muscles on display and still slightly wet from the pool, and the way his mouth was moving around his ice cream reminded you of something else — something you very much wanted him to do to you.
Yeah, you definitely couldn’t tell that you were ovulating.
You finally had enough when some of the sticky cream landed on one of his pecs and he didn’t even bother to remove it. It was almost as if he was doing it all on purpose.
So you put down your book and got up from your own chair, not even giving him a second to process your approach before you were sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him to trap him in.
“Well, hello to you too.” Your boyfriend licked the ice cream from his lips as he took a moment to admire the revealing bathing suit you were wearing.
“You know you're fucking messy, right?” You hungrily eyed the bit of ice cream that was now slowly making its way towards his taut nipple.
His lips formed into a sly smirk. “Not my fault the ice cream is melting faster than I can eat.”
You raised your eyebrows and released an amused snort. “I somehow find that hard to believe, Mr. Kim.”
“Too bad,” he responded, making sure to keep his eyes locked with you as he finished the remainder of his ice cream. “Are you going to help me clean up, though?”
You bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to leave him hanging or give in. But as he raised his sticky fingers to your lips, you could no longer resist the temptation.
Your lips parted almost automatically, taking in two of Mingyu’s fingers while you ground yourself against his hardening dick.
“Fuck, baby. You look so hot with my fingers stuffed in your pretty little mouth,” he groaned, placing his free hand on your waist to help guide your movements.
The combination of the sticky ice cream hitting your taste buds and the delicious constant pressure against your clit had you absolutely delirious with desire. Your tongue danced around his fingers with skill, sucking lightly here and there to tease him for a bit until you decided to move on to the next best thing.
You released his fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, sending your boyfriend a mischievous grin while your hands reached for the chair handles.
“Holy shit!” Mingyu exclaimed when you suddenly pulled on them, forcing him to lay completely flat without warning.
“That’s better.” You chuckled, leaning down to hover your lips over his.
Thinking you were about to kiss him, Mingyu closed his eyes, head lifting slightly to meet you halfway. Only you had other plans, so you avoided his lips and ducked your head, trailing a path of wet sloppy kisses along his neck all the way down to the part of him you had been eyeing for a while now.
A hiss left Mingyu’s mouth as your teeth scraped over his sensitive nipple. Satisfied with his reaction, you did the same to his other nipple, making sure to lick up the trail of ice cream that had formed before clamping your lips around the hardened peak.
As a result of your administrations, Mingyu had turned into a whiny mess beneath you, his breathing heavier than a minute ago and his hips frantically bucking against yours as you used a mix of teeth and tongue on his nipples to bring him closer to his high.
He was exactly where you wanted him to be.
“I’m about to fucking c-cum, shit!”
As soon as the words had left his mouth, you were up and gone, letting a devilish grin cover your features.
“What the heck? Where are you going?” a clearly confused Mingyu protested, reaching for you only to realize that you were already too far away.
“Now you know exactly how I felt this morning.” You gave him a pointed look, referring to when he thought it was fun to edge you again and again, only for you to finally get your release after an hour and a half of torture.
“Really? You’re seriously going to leave me hanging like this for that?”
You nodded, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Sure am. Serves you right.”
“Are you sure you want to play this game?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly got up from the chair, his dick now visibly straining against his swimming trunks.
“Are you?” you challenged, forcing yourself to back up the closer Mingyu got.
He smirked, his eyes sparking with heat as they devoured your body from head to toe.
“Bring it on, baby.”
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→ Summary: F1 driver Vernon is no stranger to stunning women whispering wicked things in his ear during race season, but no voice has stopped his heart quite like yours. The ‘missing’ younger sister of one of his oldest friends. The girl who disappeared two years ago without a word. And now, you’re on his lap with your bare breasts pressed against his chest. He’s horrified to learn that you’re working at an exclusive strip club, tangled in a complicated contract where sex appeal is currency, personal relationships are forbidden, and your freedom is nothing but a twisted illusion. He wants you out, but walking away from a fantasy life built on status and money isn’t that simple. So, in a last-ditch effort, he offers you something else. Something real. A fresh start on the circuit as his assistant, where you can rebuild your future, possibly even a future by his side.
↠ vernon x f.reader | 8.1k words | 18+
↠ genre: smut, f1 sport au, estranged acquaintances, friend’s younger sister, forbidden romance, forced proximity, slow burn if you squint, redemption arc/second chance/fresh start, only one bed
→ Full Fic Warnings: racer!vern x stripper!reader, lots of mentions of tits (especially in the beginning club scene), he’s well known for being a bit of a dick, he’s also tatted up (YUM). morally grey decision making, toxic choices, unsafe driving/racing tactics, car crashes & fires, mentions of injuries, family issues/trauma, judgement/feeling out of place, alcohol consumption, mentions & accusations of prostitution, physical fighting, keeping secrets, secrets spilled, mentions of blood, strong language, unprotected & explicit sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, pain kink (digging your heels into his skin, unsure who likes it more), breast & nipple play, fingering in public, mild exhibitionism, biting, hair pulling, pet names & name calling, praise, hansol has no self restraint when it comes to you, bratty!reader, bossy protective & posessive!hansol, soft & rough sex, throat fucking, sloppy oral, cock swallowing, choking on vern’s cock, jealousy, size kink, teasing, spanking, pussy slapping, body worship, creampie, begging, & prob more tbh
The following morning, sunlight leaks through the curtains, filtering across your hotel bed in golden streaks. You shift against the sheets, reluctant to wake up until the brightness eventually forces your eyes open.
You lie there for a moment, enjoying the warmth as your eyes focus, reliving last night over again for what feels like the hundredth time–until a wave of sudden dread washes over you.
“Shit!” you gasp, jerking up as panic floods your body. “Oh my god, what time is it?” You fling yourself across the bed, grabbing your phone off the charger with clumsy fingers.
7:48 a.m.
You sigh, “Thank god.” It’s not even past eight; you’re safe for now.
Not even a second later, it dings in your hand. Something in your chest flutters as your heart sees the name on your screen. It’s a text from Vernon.
You hesitate to unlock your phone, your heart rate rising as you consider all the things he could have said.
Heading to meet a potential new sponsor with Ash. Review emails and update our schedule for the next week.
Oh…
Another text bubble pops up directly underneath it.
Ideally no interviews before 10 a.m., unless it’s something big.
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. So he’s pretending last night didn’t happen? Pretending he didn’t have you pressed against the elevator wall with his mouth on yours?
A thousand reckless replies flash through your mind–some angry, some unprofessional, perhaps one even a little dirty. Groaning out of annoyance, you delete every word and type something safe instead, before pressing send.
Good luck with the meeting!
I’ll send you the schedule for you to confirm after reviewing everything.
Barely a second later, another bubble pops up. Your cheeks heat up thinking about him sitting there watching your typing bubble, waiting for your response to come through his phone.
Meet me in the lobby at 7 tonight, we’ll ride together to the event.
Wear something nice. Formal-nice, not club-nice ;)
Your breath catches. He did not just send you a winky face emoji. Just like that, the line between work and whatever last night was begins to blur again. You don’t even know how to reply to that. Is he attempting to flirt? Or simply teasing you about your fashion taste? You groan again, deciding another safe text is your best bet.
Will do!
Your phone dings again, breaking the tension. This time, Rui.
Morning, babe. Meet me at Lxce after lunch! A little birdie told me we’ve got some serious dress hunting to do.
You smile. Rui’s timing is perfect. It’s a reminder that not everything in your life has to feel so complicated. Sometimes, things do work out for you.
Your mind drifts back to Vernon–his hands, his voice, the heat in his eyes that should never have been aimed at you. The kiss hadn’t been gentle, but you could feel his restraint. The way he forced himself to hold back, as if he was fighting his inner demons from taking over.
And tonight, you might just test how long that self-control of his can last.
After what feels like an endless stream of emails, back-to-back phone calls, and a handful of DMs, you finally finish arranging Vernon’s schedule for the next week and a half.
There’s hardly time to breathe before you move straight to your next task. Using the spare key in your bag, you let yourself into Vernon’s hotel room. His scent lingers in the space, warm and masculine, clinging to the rumpled bedsheets and his worn clothes. You breathe in deep, and for a split second, your heart flutters in a way you know it shouldn’t.
All of the post-win Interviews, sponsorship negotiation gossip, and trending highlight reels have the fans in a frenzy. Jin, Vernon’s head of security, warned you earlier that some of them had already figured out which hotel he was staying in. Which means in addition to this morning’s correspondence, you also needed to rebook his room, yours, and more staff. And now, on top of everything else, you’re in a rush to pack his belongings.
You head straight for his nightstand, gathering his things and placing them into his bag. Though your fingers pause when they brush against the watch he always wears on event days.
In the bathroom, his cologne sits uncapped on the counter. You lean in, stealing a breath of the scent, and another wave of flutters stirs inside you, impossible to ignore. You shake your head and mutter under your breath, “Y/N, get it together. There’s no time for this.”
By the time you’re hauling both your bags and his down to the lobby, Jin is waiting.
“Ms. Y/N!” he greets warmly. “That was quick. Is this everything?”
“Yes! These are mine, though,” you say, nudging the smaller set of luggage to the side.
“I’ll get these delivered to the new location. Still need to finish scouting the place, checking exits, the usual.”
“I appreciate it,” you reply with a grateful smile, finally letting yourself exhale. You’re finally done with “work” for the day. Now, the rest will be fun.
In the car ride over to Lcxe, the luxurious formal wear boutique, you get lost in thought. You can’t help but wonder what Rui has planned this time. You had looked up the store earlier this morning, but couldn’t find a whole lot of information, as it’s by appointment only with a limited website.
Regardless, it doesn’t matter. Playing dress-up always lifts your spirits, tugging you back to the old days when clients would pay just to watch you slip into exquisite gowns and couture.
“Hi, gorgeous!” Rui beams the moment you step inside. “This is Baila, she’ll be helping us this afternoon. Come in, come in.” He loops his arm around yours and leads you deeper into the boutique. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“I don’t even know where to begin,” you breathe, turning in a slow circle to take in the room. Dresses line the walls in a cascade of beautiful colors and textures. Some hand-beaded silk, others delicate lace, and airy layers of tulle so light they look like spun sugar. It’s almost overwhelming, except you love it.
Baila appears with the first round, and soon you’re slipping in and out of gowns beneath the soft fitting-room lights. A slinky black satin dress hugs every curve, making Rui whistle dramatically. A vibrant pink tulle number makes you laugh until your stomach aches, the skirt practically swallowing you whole. Then there’s a beaded gown that glitters like starlight; it’s so heavy you can feel the weight of it settle on your shoulders the moment it’s zipped.
Each dress brings a new reaction, Rui and Baila both oohing and awing during the reveals. Each change of fabric and silhouette type shows you a different version of yourself in the mirror.
“Hmm, maybe we need to rethink our process here,” Baila muses, lips pursed as she rifles through a rack. Her perfectly arched brows draw together in concentration. “Remind me again of what Mr. Chwe plans to wear tonight?”
“Black suit, red stitching,” Rui answers, waving a hand dramatically. “Why don’t we look for something that complements that? Intentionally coordinating…I like it. And imagine the photos, absolutely stunning! Especially since you’re his date. Everyone will want a photo.”
Your head snaps up. “Oh, I’m not his date. We’re just…going together.”
“I was there when he listed you as his plus one, sweetie,” Rui says with a sly grin. “That’s date territory.”
You force a little laugh, though your chest tightens. Surely he only invited you for work purposes…right? It’s not a real date. He’s your boss, and you're his…stripper friend turned assistant.
Before you can spiral further, Baila lets out a triumphant “Aha!” She pulls out a striking gown from the rack; it’s a deep crimson that gleams under the boutique’s lights.
“It’s exquisite, I just don’t usually wear red,” you say, hesitating. “Doesn’t it clash with my hair? That’s, like, a fashion no-no, right?” You glance between them for confirmation, twirling a piece between your fingers
Baila shakes her head confidently. “I know what you mean, but the contrast between the shades will work for you. It won’t compete–it’ll highlight.”
“Exactly,” Rui adds, eyes bright. “I see her vision. Just try it on. If you hate it, we’ll pivot. But if you love it…” He gives a dramatic pause. “Game over.”
You step into the fitting room again, slipping into the smooth, silky fabric that glides over your skin like water. The gown clings in all the right places, and the cut is elegant yet daring. The back dips low, a wide cutout just below your shoulder blades that runs all the way down to just above the curve of your butt. Suspended across the open space, a delicate gold chain drapes like jewelry against your bare skin, a single red jewel swaying when you shift, catching the light.
Taking a careful step out, you gather the fabric slightly in your hands so you don’t trip, already reminding yourself to wear your tallest heels tonight. The dress deserves it, plus, you don’t want to accidentally tear this work of art.
“Now that was literally designed for you,” Rui gushes, eyes sparkling as he circles you. You turn toward the giant mirror, catching the full view of your back, watching the jewel glimmer with each breath.
“That’s it. That’s the dress.” Baila says, resting her hands on her hips as she nods.
You trail your hands down your sides, almost in disbelief. “I think you’re right.”
The three of you let out a squeal in unison, celebrating the find. This went way better than expected.
After slipping back into your earlier clothes, Baila carefully zips the gown into a protective garment bag, handling it like treasure. You head toward the counter to pay, but Rui smoothly steps in, already pulling out a card.
“Don’t worry about it, Vernon told me to take care of it.”
You freeze. “What? How did he even know about this? I thought Ash was the one who reached out to you.”
“I mean, yeah, she did,” Rui admits with a shrug, “But he’s the one who actually set all of this up.”
He did? That little revelation lingers in your head. Why would he care to do that?
“Well, I gotta run, babe,” Rui says, pulling you into a quick hug. “I’ll see you tonight in that hot new dress, okay?”
“You certainly will. Thanks again for your–” Your stomach growls loudly, cutting you off.
Rui raises an eyebrow. “Trying on all those dresses worked up an appetite, huh?”
“Sorry,” you laugh sheepishly. “I’ve just been so busy today, I guess I forgot to eat. I’ll grab something once I drop this back off at the hotel.”
He narrows his eyes, like he wants to scold you but decides against it. “Hmm, alright. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“Yes, of course,” you reassure with a smile. “Bye, and thank you!”
On your way out, a sign across the street catches your attention, then a mannequin in the window dressed in a black lingerie set that’s as bold as it is beautiful. The kind of piece that makes everyone happy just by simply existing.
You hesitate only a moment before glancing up and down the street, waiting for a break in traffic. Then you dart across quickly, heart picking up as though you’re sneaking off to do something you shouldn’t.
Inside, cool air greets you along with a sales associate who instantly notices where your eyes are lingering. With a knowing smile, she guides you toward the display, where the set waits in every possible size, laid out like forbidden fruit waiting to be picked. You hadn’t exactly planned on buying anything to wear under the dress, but standing here surrounded by delicate lace and silk, temptation wins.
Who cares if no one else sees it? Just knowing you have it on will make you feel powerful, dangerous, seductive. A secret weapon hidden under satin. And maybe it won’t stay a secret.
Perhaps tonight ends in someone else’s bed…or maybe that’s just a dangerous little fantasy. Either way, you slip your size into the worker's hands who helps you check out. You thank her for the quick service, feeling as though you’ve just gotten away with something.
As if the universe is conspiring to spoil you, the very next building you pass flaunts a giant ‘FLASH SALE’ sign over the entrance to a designer shoe boutique.
The sensible angel on your shoulder tells you to keep walking. The little demon smirks and whispers, You can’t wear a new dress or new lingerie with old shoes…
You already know which voice you’re listening to.
Soft music plays inside, and gorgeous shoes of all kinds are set out on velvet displays. And there, sitting dead center as if lit by a spotlight only you can see, waits a pair of black stilettos that stop you dead in your tracks.
At first glance, they seem ordinary until you take a closer look at the ankle strap. What makes these so unforgettable is the gold snake cuff winding up the ankle, with metal scales etched with impossible detail. The head is slightly lifted, the snake’s mouth open in a frozen strike.
They’re beautiful yet striking. And they instantly remind you of Vernon’s viper tattoo, holding the same aura of restrained dominance.
Well, the decision’s made, feeling more like fate than anything.
Minutes later, the shoes are boxed and bagged, joining your other indulgences of the day. You step back out into the street with a big smile. With a satisfied sigh, you wave down a taxi and give the driver the address to your new hotel.
Even if tonight turns out to be pure chaos, at least you’ll be looking like the devil’s favorite sin.
While waiting at the front desk for the receptionist to hand you the keycard for your room and the spare for Vernon’s, your phone buzzes. Speaking of him, it’s a text about craving takeout from a small street market vendor just a few blocks away.
Perfect timing. Grabbing his food gives you the perfect excuse to get something to eat too. You drop your things off in the room, making sure to hang up your dress so it isn’t wrinkled, before stepping back out into the warm early evening air.
The market is alive with the scent of grilled meats, sweet sauces, and fried snacks mingling together, and the soft chatter of passersby drifts around you as you make the short walk to the vendor’s cart.
The couple running the stall greets you with cheerful smiles, their hands busy arranging skewers over a smoky grill. You place Vernon’s order, satay beef skewers and popiah, then glance at the neatly stacked trays of food, asking for a recommendation for yourself. The gentleman behind the cart gestures toward the chicken rice, explaining it’s one of their most popular dishes. The fragrant aroma of tender chicken and ginger-laced rice fills the air around you.
Your order is ready in minutes. You find a spot on a low stone bench near the bustling street market and unwrap the food, letting the savory scents envelop you. Families and couples drift past, pausing to peer at colorful stalls and sample snacks, their laughter mingling with the sizzle of grills and the calls of vendors.
You take a bite and moan. The flavors are perfectly balanced; the dish is savory, fragrant, and has just the right hint of spice. Whether it’s the fact that you were starving, or the care that went into making the meal, it hits the spot. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of the evening and the hum of the street around you seep into every bite.
With a satisfied stomach and a little extra energy, you notice a spring in your step as you head back to the hotel. Part of it is from the food, no doubt, but another part is the excitement building inside you as the night draws closer.
You have just about two hours to recharge your social battery and get ready for the charity gala.
Outside Vernon’s suite, you knock, fully expecting him to answer. Instead, you’re met with silence. You knock a few more times, ear close to the door, hoping you’ll hear some movement. But still nothing. You fumble for the spare key in your purse, quietly letting yourself inside.
“Vernon?” you call, your voice softer now, more cautious in case he’s napping, but there’s no reply.
The faint sound of running water drifts from the bathroom. You follow it, your pulse quickening. The door is slightly ajar. And you know you shouldn’t, but your curiosity wins.
Peeking in, you see him through the foggy glass. Shapes emerge more than details. You can’t see much beyond the width of his shoulders, the sweeping darkness of his tattoos covering his legs, stomach, and chest. His entire body is practically inked…you don’t know what to do with that information right now. It’s too much.
You freeze for a moment, caught between awe and something far more primal as your core squeezes. Right now, you want nothing more than to shed your own clothes and step inside. Wanting to feel the warmth of him, the tension of his body under your hands. Wanting to trail your tongue along each black line on his skin. The fantasy alone makes your pulse spike.
Between the scent of Vernon’s body wash and the half-hidden view of his naked body, your senses are on overdrive. It all makes it nearly impossible to think of anything else but climbing in there next to him, climbing him, for that matter.
The water cuts off abruptly, and you let out a startled gasp, stepping back. But, as your luck would have it, your foot catches the edge of a footrest jutting from the armchair. You stumble backwards, twisting around and scrambling to regain your balance, only managing a few unsteady steps before something–someone–bumps into you from behind.
“I thought I heard you,” he says, his voice low, teasing, each word deliberately measured.
Turning around, you’re met with a very wet Vernon holding a towel that barely covers his lower half. His hair is still damp, and water droplets fall down the side of his neck. You’re frozen in place, unable to form a coherent answer.
Your eyes are glued to him, tracing the dark ink of his tattoos across every inch of his skin. You want to memorize the way his muscles flex beneath the patterns, the way his ab muscles shift with each step he takes closer. It’s mesmerizing, impossible to look away from, every line and shadow pulling your gaze like a magnet.
Your eyes drift lower, and for a second, they lock onto the subtle outline of his half-hard cock hidden behind the towel. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you swallow hard. Forgetting entirely what you’re here for.
“Need something?” he smirks, unable to hide the playful tone in his voice. Snapping out of your daze, your cheeks warm.
You jerk your gaze back up to meet his, those golden eyes glinting with amusement.
“No! Um…here,” you stammer, thrusting the takeout bag toward him before pivoting and practically sprinting toward the door.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, ideally dressed,” he calls after you, voice teasing, making it impossible not to bite your lip on the way out.
You slip out before your brain–or your body–can make any rash decisions. Once in the quiet hall, you take a slow, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself as your pulse races. A few steps later, you reach your own door and step inside, closing it behind you.
Leaning against it, you press a hand over your heart, feeling it hammer with a mix of anticipation and something darker. Something almost dangerous simmers just beneath the surface.
Ever since last night, Vernon has been dying to say–do–a million things to you. That kiss had barely scratched the surface. He wanted more. Wanted to feel you, tease you, lose himself in you. But he doesn’t want to push too hard, not yet. So he’s been taking it slow, careful. His attention has been focused on helping you through a day that’s already overwhelming, making it about easing your stress rather than whisking you off somewhere private to indulge in the desire growing between you.
This morning, on the drive to the sponsorship meeting, Ash mentions casually that she hopes Rui won’t be too busy today.
Curious, Vernon asks why, and she fills him in. Between managing his schedule and anticipating his needs, you haven’t remembered to find a dress for the gala tonight. Ash only realized last night and suggested you ask Rui for a little help.
Vernon nods thoughtfully, slipping his phone from his pocket. A quick text, a brief call to a popular boutique, and suddenly the afternoon is blocked off. It’s all taken care of before you even have a chance to worry.
“Happy?” he asks, glancing at Ash, who’s looking at him with a hint of mischief. He’s fully aware she’s been eavesdropping.
“Very,” she admits, a slow, secretive smile spreading across her face as she pieces it together. Vernon’s grin widens, satisfied too. Not just with his plan, but with the subtle way he’s able to make you feel cared for, even from a distance.
After the sponsorship meeting, which went pretty good by his standards, Vernon heads back to the hotel to get ready. His tailor and Rui will be stopping by his room for one last suit fitting, both wanting to ensure every stitch is perfect.
Vernon is more interested in hearing from Rui, wanting to know if the dress situation has been sorted out.
“The damsel is officially no longer in distress,” Rui says with a teasing tilt of his head. “In fact, she’s turning into royalty tonight. Well, as long as she doesn’t pass out between now and then.”
Vernon’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean? Is she not feeling well? Is something wrong?”
Rui squints at him, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. Why is everyone giving him that look today? First Ash, now Rui…
“She didn’t have time for lunch today,” Rui explains, “And knowing her, she probably skipped breakfast too. She said she’d eat once she got back here, but…” His sentence trailed off, the concern hanging between them unspoken but clear. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
“Hand me my phone,” Vernon demands, hand held out.
The tailor reaches over and passes it to Rui, who hands it directly to Vernon. Without another thought, Vernon sent you a quick text, wanting takeout from a local market he knows is nearby. Knowing that once you smell the food, you’ll be urged to get something too.
He could have just texted you to eat, but this way, you think it’s your own idea. Whatever helps keep you fueled and steady on his arm tonight.
Vernon’s been holding it together ever since he met you in the lobby, guiding you out to the waiting town car with a fake calmness. When what he really wanted was to drag you back upstairs, press you against the nearest wall, and take you the way he’s been craving.
He smiled for the press lined up on either side of the red carpet leading into the gala, letting them take as many photos as they wanted. He was just happy to have you on his arm.
Now inside, he’s playing nice, exchanging polite greetings with gala guests whose names slip from his memory as quickly as they’re offered. It’s not his fault. His head is too full of you. Always you. Especially when you look like that.
He turns slightly, stealing a glance at you. Your arm is linked through his, and he feels the vibrations as you laugh at something someone says, and the sound tugs at something in his chest. You look exquisite. Your red hair is pinned up in a way that makes you look untouchable, though a few carefully loosed curls trail down and frame your neck, drawing his gaze lower… to the delicate slope of your collarbone, and the swell of your breasts.
From his height, he catches a glimpse of black lace peeking just above the neckline of your dress. The sight alone has him burning, unable to think of anything else besides peeling your dress off, inch by inch, to uncover what’s waiting beneath.
And that dress…fuck. Whether it’s silk or satin, he couldn’t say, but the way it clings to you, draping across every curve like it was made for you, is enough to undo him. The color is a deep cherry red, a perfect match to the color painted across your lips–the very lips he finally tasted last night.
The memory hits him hard. His length stirs against the confines of his tailored pants as he recalls his body pressed against yours, the warmth of your skin, the lingering taste of minty gum on your tongue. That kiss hadn’t been nearly enough, and standing this close to you now only makes the hunger worse.
“Vernon!” someone calls from across the room.
“Excuse us,” he says politely to the group you’d been speaking with, guiding you through the crowd toward a circle of his racing friends.
He stops beside a tall figure with a wide grin. “This is Mingyu,” Vernon says, “my closest friend outside of Virex.”
Mingyu, a driver for Team Mercedes, takes your hand. He shakes it slowly as his charm dials up without hesitation. “Lovely to finally meet you,” he says, his eyes lingering a moment too long. Then, with a cocky grin, he adds, “What are you doing on this loser’s arm?”
You laugh, before covering your mouth with a hand, “Sorry, I’m sorry. That caught me by surprise. I know you’re kidding, but it’s hard to picture Vernon losing anything.”
Vernon appreciates the ego boost.
“Seven hundred and fifty million fans. Two hundred and twenty miles per hour. Twenty-four races. Only one champion. And that’s going to be me, sweetheart,” He finishes the boast with a wink. “Sure you don’t want to jump teams?”
Vernon scoffs, “Don’t you need to actually win some races first before you crown yourself champion?”
Mingyu is about to snap back, but his confidence wavers as his eyes land on the newest arrival. Ash glides toward the group like she owns the room. Vernon notices Mingyu’s throat bob with a hard swallow and has to bite back a smile.
“Oh my god! Ash, you look absolutely stunning,” you gush. Then, with a sly glance in Mingyu’s direction, you add, “Right, Mingyu? Doesn’t she look incredible? The slit on your dress makes your legs look lethal.”
Vernon catches your tone instantly. You’re setting him up, teasing, and he loves it.
Mingyu stumbles over his words, muttering a quick, “Y-yeah, incredible,” before tossing back the last of his drink. He excuses himself abruptly, mumbling something about a refill.
Vernon’s grin finally breaks through, wide and unrestrained. He knows exactly what you just did, and he approves, one hundred percent. Those two need a little push. It’s been two seasons full of tension that is eventually going to snap–if it hasn’t already…
“Vern, mind if I pull Y/N away to meet some of the other ladies?” She turns to you, not even waiting for him to answer, but he doesn’t mind. “You’ll love them, they’re in the same field as us for some of the other drivers. Come on!”
“I’ll be here,” he says softly as you slide your arm free, following Ash across the room.
Mingyu strolls back now that the coast is clear, two drinks in hand. He passes one to Vernon, who nods in thanks before taking a sip.
“So,” Mingyu begins, leaning in slightly. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing with Youngmin’s sister? Does he know?”
“Mind your business, ‘Gyu,” Vernon replies, keeping his tone light but sharp. For a moment, he had forgotten that Mingyu had met Youngmin before. What surprises Vernon more, though, is that he recognized you immediately–just from old photos he’d seen years ago in your childhood home.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend,” Mingyu warns with a smirk. “I’d come clean sooner rather than later. Especially if she’s looking at me like that.”
Vernon follows Mingyu’s gaze across the room. You’re huddled with the other women, laughing and sharing stories, but your eyes are fixed on him. Good.
“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Vernon half-jokes, a grin tugging at his lips, eyes refusing to leave yours.
“I’ll drink to that,” Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head, clearly amused, and just a little impressed.
More drivers drift over to chat, their voices blending as Vernon’s attention is only half on them. Minutes later, his focus slips again, drawn to you across the room, catching those little, lustful glances you exchange like a private line runs between you.
The string band shifts tempo, the music slowing into a languid, intimate rhythm, practically inviting couples onto the dance floor.
“Excuse me, fellas,” Vernon says with a low voice, before he strides toward you.
“May I have this dance?” He whispers over your shoulder. You shiver, not having noticed him walk over to you, but take his hand.
Vernon guides you onto the floor, pulling you closer as he slides his arms around your body. His hand rests low on the small of your back, anchoring you to him, while your arms loop over his shoulders.
Your fingers soon find the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, testing him. He leans his head in close to yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear, guiding you effortlessly in time with the slow, intoxicating rhythm. The heat between you builds, each turn and sway adding more fuel to the fire.
Just as the song is winding down, his breath, hot and teasing, fans against your ear.
“Leave with me.”
It isn’t a question. There’s no pleading, and he’s not asking. Just a magnetic demand that makes your pulse spike.
As the final notes fade, you both slide off the dance floor, seamlessly moving into the crowd as the next song begins. His hand stays planted on the curve of your lower back, fingers slowly rubbing, memorizing.
He knows he’s playing unfairly, and he doesn’t care. After holding off for so long, after feeling your skin against his just once, he can’t take his hands off you. Not now, not ever.
The cab ride back to the new hotel is a study in restraint and temptation. Vernon’s fingers twirl a loose strand of your hair absentmindedly, brushing it away from your neck while your hand drifts higher up his thigh. Your fingertips trace the inner seam of his pants, sending little jolts of electricity straight to his cock.
Neither of you speaks, but words aren’t necessary. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game, testing how far you can push the other without giving in, daring the other to crack first.
In the elevator, the energy in the air shifts. His eyes lock with yours for the hundredth time that evening, yours instinctively dipping lower to his lips before flicking back up. Waiting, teasing, measuring. He mirrors you, the faintest smirk playing on his mouth, neither willing to make the first move but both aching to.
The doors slide open onto your shared floor, the soft hum of the elevator retreating to the lobby fading into the background, leaving the hallway intimately silent.
“Coming?” Vernon asks, holding his hand out. It’s an invitation, a challenge loaded with unspoken promises. You know what this means, and so does he. What he doesn’t know, however, is whether you’ll accept.
After what feels like an eternity–though in reality it’s only a few heartbeats–you slip your hand into his, letting him guide you to his private suite.
He unlocks the door quickly, eager to pull you inside. Your lips finally meet as it clicks shut behind you.
One of his hands threads into your hair, fingers tangling in the fiery strands, while the other tilts your jaw, angling your face perfectly toward him. A small, startled gasp escapes him as your hand cups him through his pants, the heat of your touch making him shiver.
Vernon pulls back just enough to drink you in. His eyes are dark as he traces the curve of your lips, admiring the flush of your cheeks, the way your body presses against his. Every detail before him is a vision he wants to memorize, savor, and lose himself in.
“Don’t you know red is my favorite color?” Vernon murmurs, his hands sliding over your silk-covered curves. “Your hair, that dress, even your lipstick–it’s all driving me fucking insane.”
Your arms loop around his neck, yanking him closer until your mouths collide again in a fight for dominance. The kiss is wild and hungry, neither willing to surrender. His tongue dives into your mouth, stealing a moan from your throat, the noise making his length twitch against the fabric of his pants. It’s a sound he clearly hopes will be on repeat tonight.
When he finally breaks away, his thumb drags across the corner of your mouth, smearing the crimson that’s already starting to blur. He pauses, eyes dark with mischief. “Think what remains of your lipstick will stay in place while you choke on my cock? I want you ruined,” he says, voice thick with want. “I want visual proof of what I do to you.”
Your body tingles hearing his words, and heat rushes right to your core. "Let's find out," you breathe, lowering onto your knees. Your fingers fumble to undo his belt. At this point, you’re driven by need more than patience. You’re eager to taste him, craving for your mouth to be full of him.
Dropping down to your knees, your hands instinctively reach for his belt, forcefully undoing it before unzipping his pants and pushing them down a few inches.
Vernon's thick erection tents in his boxers, teasing you for what's to come. Licking your lips, you watch as one of his tattooed hands reaches in to pull his length out. He pumps it slowly before lining his swollen tip up to your parted lips.
He lets out a shaky breath as you enclose your warm, wet mouth around his cock.
He watches you with a slow, burning smile, his other hand reaching down to guide you closer to him, taking control of the pace.
“Open wide, babygirl," he demands, "We're just getting started..."
You obey, flattening your tongue to shield his velvety flesh from your lower teeth as he eases himself deeper into your mouth, inch by inch.
The swollen tip nudges the back of your throat, and your eyes water instantly. You blink through the sting, taking calming breaths through your nose. He starts to move, slowly at first, then deeper, forcing you to open wider. To take more of him with every push.
“Shit,” he hisses, jaw tight as he stares down at you, looking up at him. “So fucking pretty with my cock down your throat.”
His fist tightens in your hair, keeping you steady as he uses your mouth, wet sounds filling the room. Drool spills past your lips, running down your chin and slicking his length as he stretches your throat wider, deeper, until you can hardly breathe.
A guttural groan rips from his chest, vibrating through you, making your pussy throb. You moan around him without thinking, the vibration making him jerk hard inside you. The sudden thrust makes you gag, throat convulsing.
He eases back just enough to let you gasp for air, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking down your cheek. The moment you nod that you’re ready, you sink down again, swallowing him greedily, your hand twisting around the thick base you still can’t fit past your lips.
“Holy f-fuck,” he stutters, the cracks in his voice betraying how close he is. “I’m already–fuck–so close. Don’t you see what you fucking do to me?” His free hand shoves through his damp hair, eyes dark with desperation as you suck harder, working him like you were made for it.
His hips twitch uncontrollably, teeth bared, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I’m gonna come–”
You take him deeper, throat stretching as you swallow around him, determined to claim every drop. That’s all it takes. His body shudders violently, head tipping back as hot, thick ropes of release spill against the back of your throat.
“Such a good cockslut. Come back up here,” he growls, fisting your hair and yanking you upright. The sharp sting makes you gasp, the pain rolling into pleasure as it shoots straight down to your cunt, flooding you with heat and slickness.
You stumble into him, pushing him further into the suite. Your fingers claw wildly at his shirt, ripping it open. A pleased smile spreads across your face as buttons fall to the floor.
He chuckles darkly, though his eyes are blazing. “This is a ten-thousand-dollar suit, Y/N.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” you pant, dragging your nails down his chest. You lean in, using your tongue to trace along his tattoos below his peck. “I wanted to see more of you.”
His lips twitch into a dangerous smile. He understands, because he wants to see all of you, too.
“My turn,” he murmurs, voice dropping low. His hands slide down your body, finding the hidden zipper of your dress. As it lowers, his mouth follows, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over your ribs, your stomach, down toward your hips. He peels the gown away from you like unwrapping something forbidden.
By the time he’s kneeling, you take advantage, lifting your leg and pressing the sharp tip of your heel into the hard plane of his chest. He topples backward onto the bed, catching himself on his elbows, eyes flashing with hunger.
“You had your turn already,” you smirk.
The view nearly ruins him. From the pointed heel indenting his bare skin, his gaze trails up the smooth line of your calf, past the soft curve of your thigh, and straight to your pussy–barely covered by sheer panties already soaked through. A dark, wet spot clings to the delicate fabric, betraying just how badly you want him.
His cock throbs violently. Fuck. Best view in the world.
Your hand slips down between your legs, fingers gliding over the damp fabric. You rub slow, lazy circles, smearing the wetness and making the patch darker, bigger, until the sound of your slick fills the air.
He grits his teeth, fists clenching at his sides as a groan rumbles in his chest. Watching you touch yourself is pure torture. He lasts three seconds longer before snapping.
“Fuck this,” he growls, surging forward, ready to tear those panties aside and devour you whole.
Vernon doesn’t bother being gentle. He manhandles you, tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. The mattress dips beneath your body, and before you can catch your breath, he’s on you. His mouth trails hungry kisses from the black lacy bra he was dying to see earlier, down your stomach. Each press of his lips leaves a hot ache inside of you, until he’s hovering right over your soaked core.
His tongue flicks out, tasting you through the sheer fabric of your panties, dragging slowly over the damp spot that betrays how badly you want him. His nose nudges against your swollen clit, sending a jolt through your body, but just when you arch up for more, he pulls back.
A low laugh vibrates in his throat as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and peels your panties down achingly slow, teasing you with every inch of exposed skin. They slide off your legs, landing somewhere on the floor.
Instead of returning to your cunt right away, he shifts his focus to your heels, running his hand over the delicate strap circling your ankle. His gaze lingers on the snake detail coiled there, metallic and gleaming against your skin. His lips brush over it in reverence.
It’s like a piece of him is already a part of you. And fuck, does he like that.
His hands spread your thighs wide, and before you can plead, he thrusts two fingers deep inside your drenched pussy. The stretch has you crying out instantly.
“Can’t wait to split you open on my cock,” he murmurs, voice thick with possessive hunger.
Pumping his fingers into you, he groans after hearing obscene wet sounds. “Think this pussy can handle all of me?”
“Y-yes,” you whine, head tipping back, legs falling open even wider in offering. “Yes, take me. Please!”
But he doesn’t give in, not yet. “You have to come first,” he rasps, curling his fingers upward until they press right against a spot that makes your vision blur. “I need to know you’re ready for me.”
Your back arches off the bed as he fingers you with ruthless precision, his thumb brushing over your clit while his fingers drag against that perfect place inside you. Heat coils tight in your belly, and your entire body quivers uncontrollably, desperate moans slipping past your lips as he drives you closer and closer.
“Come on, baby, I know you’re close. Come for me,” he coaxes, voice rough with need. His mouth lowers to your chest, lips sealing around one soft peak through the lace, sucking until your back arches off the bed. His tongue swirls over your nipple, slow and deliberate, before his teeth graze just enough to make you gasp. He releases that side only to move to the other, giving each equal attention.
You wriggle your arms behind you, unhooking the bra and tearing it off you, tired of the thin barrier.
“Perfect fucking tits,” he groans against your skin, lavishing you. “I could stay here all night between them, but I still need to taste you.”
He trails lower, his kisses brushing down your ribcage, back across your belly, until he’s hovering between your thighs again, his tongue leaving teasing licks.
The coil inside you tightens unbearably, your muscles trembling as the pressure builds.
“Come all over my fingers and lips. You can do it, pretty girl. Let go for me.”
His words cut the final thread of your control. The coil snaps, pleasure exploding through your veins as your whole body shudders. You scream his name as you come, clenching around his fingers, soaking his hand.
But he doesn’t stop, he won’t let you float down just yet.
His mouth seals over your swollen clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking mercilessly while his fingers keep pumping in and out of you. You thrash beneath him, the overstimulation sending you spiraling higher, your climax stretching into one endless, drawn-out wave.
He moans like a man possessed, like he can’t get enough. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, gripping tight, dragging you down the bed until your cunt is flush against his face. He devours you, tongue plunging inside to lap at your juices while his thumb circles your clit in unbearably slow, teasing strokes.
“F-fuck, Vernon!” you cry out, voice breaking. “Oh my god!”
Another orgasm tears through you without warning, crashing harder than the last, your thighs clamping around his head as you convulse.
And still, he’s reluctant to let go, but his cock is throbbing, demanding to be inside you.
He strips off the last of his clothes in a rush while you kick your heels off, the thud of them hitting the floor drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing.
He grips himself, thick and hard, and drags the head through your slick folds, smearing you open before lining up. With one brutal snap of his hips, he slams inside, bottoming out so deep you choke on a cry.
“Fuck,” he snarls through gritted teeth, your pussy clamping down on him like a vise. His whole body shudders at the stretch before he starts pounding into you, fast and merciless, each thrust shaking the bed beneath you.
You’re panting, gasping for air as your nails dig into his inked biceps, clinging to him like you’ll disappear otherwise. He groans at the sting, fucking into you harder as though your claw marks are fueling him.
His big hands move to your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your peaked nipples, squeezing the soft flesh rougher than he should. “Perfect tits,” he grits out, watching them bounce wildly with every violent thrust. The sight makes his cock twitch inside you, driving him even crazier.
He’s pictured this ever since that very first night at the club, when your tits were on display in front of his face for your dance performance, celebrating his win that night.
The real win is happening right now; this is the best prize. You’re the only reward he wants–now and forever.
Sweat drips from his temple as he presses his forehead to yours, snarling with the effort of holding himself back from breaking you completely. His rhythm is relentless, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room.
You hook your legs around his waist, ankles locking tight, and the shift gives him a deeper angle. One that makes you let out a broken cry as he pounds your sweet spot again and again. Your nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks he’ll feel for days. So worth it.
“Take it,” he growls, voice rough and desperate. “Take this cock like you fucking begged for it.”
Every thrust steals your breath, every graze of his length against your walls has you unraveling faster, dragging you helplessly toward the edge. And he won’t let up until you shatter around him.
“Come on. I want you to fucking lose it on me. I want you to scream.”
Your body bows beneath him as the coil inside you snaps. Pleasure crashes through you violently, and you cry out, clenching down around him as he fucks you through it.
“That’s it,” he growls, “Milk my cock. You’re not done, baby, not until I say so.”
He keeps slamming into you, cock hitting every spot that has you trembling. It’s too much–your body spasms, another orgasm tearing through you so hard your throat goes raw from the scream.
“Good fucking girl,” he breathes, watching your face contort with pleasure, watching your body writhe beneath his. His hand slides between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, ruthless strokes. “You’re gonna come again. Gonna come until you can’t take it.”
Tears prick your eyes, but your pussy is already fluttering around him, dragging you into yet another release. Your legs shake violently, body a mess of moans and broken cries.
You’re limp beneath him, wrecked from orgasm after orgasm, but he’s still pounding into you, chasing his own high. His thrusts grow sharper, less controlled, his hips jerking as his restraint finally begins to unravel.
“This fucking cunt,” he growls, teeth bared as he slams into you again, harder, deeper. “So tight–squeezing the life out of me.”
You cling to his shoulders, your nails digging crescent moons into his sweat-slick skin. Every time he drives into you, your walls clench helplessly around his cock, milking him, dragging him closer to the edge.
His rhythm stutters, a guttural groan ripping from his chest. He leans down, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck, his breath ragged and uneven. “I’m–fuck, I’m gonna come.”
The words make your pussy clench tighter, and he hisses, hips snapping harder as his thumb finds your clit again, circling mercilessly. “Take it,” he snarls, voice breaking with desperation. “Take every drop.”
His whole body locks up, cock buried to the hilt as the first hot rope of cum shoots into your core. A raw cry tears from his throat as he jerks inside you, thick spurts spilling deep, filling you so full it leaks out around his length with every shuddering thrust.
He rides it out, rutting through his orgasm, forcing it deeper as he chases every last wave of release. “Holy fuck,” he groans, teeth sinking lightly into your skin as his cock twitches inside you.
Finally he slows, collapsing against you with his chest heaving. His cock is still nestled deep, pulsing as the aftershocks wrack his body. His arms cage you in, holding you possessively, sweat mingling as his lips brush over your temple.
“Mine,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the word becoming more of a vow than anything else.
A/N — This was very heavily inspired by one of the daily thot discussions i had with @svtiddiess , you're welcome babe and no, i still can't write smut ;D
Shivering, your eyes fell shut. The gentle touch of Jeonghans fingers trailing down the skin of your back, slow and barely there, down your spine as you stood in the middle of your bed room.
The giant window gave you an amazing view of the city of Seoul. A view you weren’t able to concentrate on at the moment.
Dressed only in the dress shirt of one of your boyfriends and a black pair of lace underwear you had their focus solely on you.
“God you drive me insane my love…” Jeonghan whispered against the shell of your ear, making you swallow down the breathy moan that had threatened to escape. “Such a good girl for us, our lovely baby…”
“Hannie…” you whined, not able to form coherent words when his lips met the sensitive skin of your neck. Dark marks were covering your throat, blooming in a beautiful combination of blue and purple Seungcheol had left just a few hours before.
The rapper was watching his lovers with dark eyes from the bed, perched up against the headboard and a hard on standing tall in his boxers.
“Always so good for us.” He almost growled and you swore you could feel your knees shaking at his raspy tone.
“Did you miss me, baby? Missed how my fingers felt while I was away?” Jeonghan pressed another kiss to your throat, arms wrapping around your form from behind.
You nodded quickly.
Yes, you had.
Not having Jeonghan for the last few weeks had taken a toll on you. Of course you had Seungcheol but both you and the leader knew that your little trio was only really complete when it was the 3 of you.
And now that he had finished his base training, he was finally home again.
Seungcheol hadn’t told you about Jeonghan coming home, wanting to surprise you and god did he not regret it. The happy spark that brightened your eyes when Jeonghan walked in were well worth it.
“Good, because I missed you too.”
He stirred you towards the bed.
Seungcheol thoroughly enjoyed the sight. His shirt hanging off of your shoulders and his boyfriend kissing every inch he could reach while leading you to him had his dick twitching.
He reached for your hand, waiting for you to take it.
“Hello pretty girl.” He hummed watching you crawl on the bed and to him. He groaned when you settled on his lap, pantie clad pussy settling right on his dick. The thin fabric of your and his underwear the only thing separating you.
Jeonghan shrugged of the black silk robe he had been wearing, revealing his naked body underneath before joining you and his leader and lover. The shirt you were wearing fell to the floor beside the bed.
You moaned, the friction of you grinding against Seungcheol sent heat up your spine and caused another loud tortured groan from them man underneath you.
“Do you hear that, my love? Hear how good you’re making Cheol feel?” Jeonghan mumbled against your skin, never quite stopping his kisses while cupping your breast from behind, thumb flicking against your nipples.
You keened into the kiss you shared with Seungcheol.
“Please fuck me?” you gasped out, soaking wet.
Both men chuckled and let their eyes meet over your shoulder.
“Do you hear that Hannie? Our baby want us to fuck her… think we can do that?”
Jumping out of your skin when Jeonghan cupped your damp pussy with his hand, fingers rubbing your clit through your panties. “Can’t wait to be inside of our good girl again. Missed fucking her so much.”
The way they talked to each other like you weren’t even there left you breathless. Like you were nothing but a dumb toy for them to use as they pleased.
Soon you were all three stark naked, Seungcheols dick fucking into you with vigor. His big hands on your waist, helping you bounce on him with Jeonghan enjoying the show, hand jerking himself and raveling in the noises that left your mouth at having your boyfriend hit that special spot inside you dead on with every thrust of his hips.
Your high pitched, breaths paired with Seungcheouls low grunts was music to his ears.
Jeonghan felt himself grow impatient.
He had been away for weeks, depriving himself of the sweet noises you made when they had you falling apart in between you. Depriving himself of the faces of pure pleasure you made when him and his boyfriend had you at their mercy. Depriving himself of the warmth he felt when he was with the 2 people he love most…
“Think you can handle us both baby?”
You whined when the leader stopped thrusting, eyes snapping over to Jeonghan who was watching you like you were his pray.
“Of course she can, right sweet girl?” Seungcheol said and lifted you of his member to turn you around before sinking back into you.
He knew that Jeonghan wanted to see your face when he fucked you and he was unwilling to deprive the other of this pleasure.
Jeonghan finally claimed your mouth with his. His kiss oh so different compared with your other boyfriend but just as hot. Where Seungcheol was wild and rough, Jeonghan was sinful and sensual, a mix that balanced each other so well that you felt like you could cum just thinking about it.
“Ready?” he asked and lined his dick alongside his partners before slowly pushing in. Your head fell back at the sensation of being split open on 2 cocks simultaneously.
You felt Seungcheols hand on your thoat and clenched around them both, causing them to moan loudly at the sensation, making Jeonghan lose his cool and thrust in. The wetness between your legs making it a smooth glide and you almost came on the spot.
“Ah-hh, mommy pl-lease!” you pleaded for them to ruin you.
Neither of the men could hold themselfes back anymore. They started ghrusting with a sense of desperation they hadn’t felt in a while and you reached for something to hold onto while being at their complete mercy for the moment.
They could feel you tightening around them, thrusts growing erratic as all 3 of you hurtled towards your releases.
“Cum for Mommy and Daddy.”
Hearing Seungcheol rasp into your ear was like opening the flood gates. You came hard, followed right by them spilling their seed deep into your pussy while riding out the high.
Drops of sweat had started collecting on your forehead, yet neither of them hesitated to place calming kisses to the skin there as they showered you with praise.
“Did so well, for us. Such a good girl, taking both of us like a champ.”
“You’re finally home…”
Both smiled down at you and Jeonghan sighed in relief. The stress of the last weeks falling of his shoulders.
