Tags: explicit sexual content, manhandling, size kink, big d joon🤤, fluff!!, and alot of things.
Mdni 18+
The Size Difference. Omg. This is like a whole thing for him too, He's so big – tall, broad, big hands, big thighs, big dick. And he LOVES the contrast with you. Loves picking you up like you weigh nothing, loves how his hand can almost wrap around both your wrists, loves caging you under him and making you feel surrounded. It's not just a physical thing for him; it makes him feel protective and possessive in a way that drives him crazy.
He's not rough, but he's firm. He guides you. Moves you. Positions you. A hand on the back of your neck that's both comforting and controlling. Pulling you into his lap by your hips. Turning you over in bed with one easy motion. It's the effortless strength that's so hot. Like he's so strong he doesn't even have to try.
Hes a hot nerd. Foreplay starts at breakfast. Him telling you about a concept from a book, his eyes lighting up, his hands moving while he talks... you just sit there watching his brain work and get turned on. He'll catch you staring and get this little knowing smile. He knows. And later, he'll whisper something from that same conversation against your skin, making the whole day feel like one long, slow seduction.
His love language is 1000% physical touch, but it's claimed touch. His hand on the small of your back guides you through a crowd. Even when he's just resting a hand on your thigh while he drives, it's heavy and intentional. He needs to be connected to you.
Namjoon loves watching/being watched. He loves to observe you. Loves when u put on a show for him. He'll ask u to touch yourself for him and just watch with this focused, hungry look, like he's studying u. And he loves knowing you're watching him too – the flex of his back when he takes his shirt off, the veins on his arms. He's aware of his own effect and it's hot.
He has the patience of a saint and he uses it for evil (good evil). He'll edge you for what feels like hours, stopping every time you're close, whispering “not yet, baby” in that deep voice. He loves seeing you desperate and begging, loves the power of being the one who gives u permission to finally cum.
He leaves bruises where no one else can see. The inside of your thighs, your hips, the side of your breast. He likes seeing his fingerprints on your skin the next day. He'll kiss over them gently and say “pretty” or “mine,” and it makes you melt and shiver at the same time.
His dirty talk is so good. He doesn't just say generic stuff. It's so specific and it wrecks you. Stuff like, “I can feel you fluttering around me, so perfect,” or “You take every inch so well, like you were made for me,” or even just groaning “Fuck, you're so tight,” when he's balls-deep inside you. It's earnest and graphic and comes from him just stating what he's experiencing and it's SO hot.
And his cock.. is fucking huge, very thick and veiny. Namjoon won’t get his eyes off of the bulge his cock make on your tummy, sliding in and out of your stretched pussy. The wet noises, your desperate whimpers and pathetic pleads, begging him to slow down bcuz his cock is too big and you can’t take it. But hes not stopping, he will make you take it and stretch you to his size.
His pervert mind has fantasies about locations. His big, sturdy desk in his study, covered in his papers and books. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room at night (the blinds are closed, but it feels risky). The shower where he can pin you against the cool tiles. The couch where he was just reading peacefully before pulling you into his lap. He thinks about the setting, the ambiance. It's a whole production in his head.
Eye contact is another huge turn on for him. He will hold it while his fingers slide inside you, while he takes you deep, while he comes. It’s overwhelming.
He’ll spread your thighs with his hands, praising the stretch. “Look at that. Open so wide for me. Such a good girl.”
He loves sitting you on his massive thighs while he’s still fully clothed, just grinding you against the hard muscle of his leg until you’re a mess.
He’s obsessed with your collarbones. He’ll trace them with a blunt finger, then kiss along them. Something about their delicacy drives him crazy.
Yes, he manhandles, but he also serves. Washing your hair, massaging your feet, feeding you fruit. It’s all natural to him. He gets off on caring for you until you’re pliant.
He’ll kneel in front of you. To take off your shoes, to put your socks on. But he’ll stay there, his big hands on your calves, looking up at you with soft puppy eyes.
He’ll dress you. Put his own hoodie on you, slowly pull your panties up for you. Like his own pretty doll.
Namjoon’s very good with mixing praise and degradation. It’s all praise but it feels degrading bcuz of how specific and exposing it is:
“You were thinking about this all through dinner, weren’t you? My good, desperate girl.”
“You came just from my fingers? So sensitive for me.”
Hes a clingy sleeper. Big spoon, most of the time. His hand will cup your breast or rest possessively over your pussy in his sleep.
He’ll sometimes wake you up by already being inside you, moving slow and deep. He’ll shush you gently, “Go back to sleep, baby. Let me take care of you.” It’s the ultimate trust exercise for him.
He’ll teach u. About your own body, about sex. “This is your G-spot. Feel it? That’s how I’m going to make you squirt for me, princess.”
He might read smut to u, his deep voice bringing the words to life, his hand working between your legs.
Namjoon genuinely believes that the purest form of love is watching u fall asleep on his chest after a long day, knowing u trust him enough to let ur guard down completely, knowing that he made u feel so good, that he made u cum multiple times until your body is exhausted and satisfied with his touch ㅤ♡.
A/N: i just hit 600 followers 🥹 thank u sm my loves💕 I didn’t expect to be noticed this fast
I carried away with this hc bcuz i do study namjoon alot and i wanted to write everything ik but that would be a long series of a never ending hcs 😭 hope this was to ur expectations and req r still open!!
Pairing: Vampire!Chan x Human Fem!Reader, Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
Summary: Chris loved one woman his entire existence. Cursed with immortality, he looks for a will to go on. After 400 years, he’s finally found a reason: the love of his life was reborn, but she’s soon to be married.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI with adult content. Character deaths, blood feeding, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, dubious consent(sex in a dream), nipple play, use of pet names, and a god damn insane amount of acknowledgment to Chris’ stupid plush lips because I have no self control.
Word Count: 18,900 and some change
Author’s Note: This is a commission for the lovely @brittahontas! Thank you for giving me a beautiful prompt. I’ve been in love with Dracula for so long, and we needed a fic where he gets the girl. I am forever grateful for your support. It helps more than you know. If you guys are curious how to get a commission of your own, check out this post. Otherwise, please enjoy!
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A sheet of grey clouds engulfs the sky in London. No sun peeks through, and the expectation of rain is a certainty. Chris doesn’t worry as his carriage continues down the cobblestone path. From behind him, a clock bell rings out, marking the hour of noon as the carriage crosses the river. He hates being out during the day, but certain affairs needed to be settled. The sooner, the better.
Chris looks down at the envelope in his hand. He is on his way to meet with Hyunjin Hwang. A newer solicitor at Harrison & Associates. The man is young but promising, willing to do the legwork in securing a property, or so the owner promises. Chris has only one concern; he asked for secrecy. Less interaction is better. The company would reap substantial rewards if Hyunjin bought the properties swiftly and privately.
Hyunjin’s penmanship is eloquent. It’s refreshing to see it in the letter sent in response to the property inquiry. Even on the appointment card there is delicate lettering. Any time Chris rejoins society after several decades of slumbering, he worries about the changes. Society forces him to adapt and discover what advancements have occurred. At least humans are consistent with being stupid creatures, still preoccupied with fighting for imaginary power as if it matters.
The surrounding city changed quite a bit since his last visit. To be expected after two hundred years. Growth appears to be exponential. There are new buildings, though the main roads remain the same, just not as wide. His carriage stops in front of what used to be a building owned by a shoemaker; it now is his destination for his meeting today.
Chris steps out with grace, not bothering to take in the bustling city life around him. Instead, he focuses on the large glass window that reveals the young man he suspects to be Hyunjin in the otherwise empty office. He’s a handsome man with his brown eyes and plush lips. Women must adore him. Especially now, with a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose while he’s tying up long raven locks away from his face.
The door chimes above Chris as he steps into the business. Immediately the human looks up from his stack of papers, forcing a smile onto his face. His voice is soft and polite as he stands. “Ah, you must be Lord Bahng. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I apologize for making you come all this way.”
“That’s quite alright,” he answered, removing his gloves before tucking them into his jacket. “How is Mr. Anderson?”
“Unwell. Doctors are confident, though.” Hyunjin shifts the weight on his feet. There is a spike in his heart rate, even though he masks his unease well. “Um, how are the accommodations? I know it’s not the best for a prince, but are you adjusting well?”
Chris doesn’t miss the redirection from Hyunjin. Anderson is nearing death. Will this young solicitor be inheriting the company then? That is a lot of pressure for someone without years in the industry; perhaps that’s why he was so eager to follow the absurd demands.
“The staff is exceptional.”
“Good. Very good. Uh…” Hyunjin’s words trail off as he sorts through the folders on his desk until he finds the one he needs. “Your shipments arrived. Unfortunately, the ship never made it to the pier. The storm crashed the Demeter onto the coast several miles north. I can assure you that only one crate sustained damage. I believe it was dirt; they salvaged what they could.”
Chris briefly sucks on one of his fangs, a habit of his when annoyed. “It’s perfectly fine. Was it taken to the abbey?”
“Yes, sir. Right in the heart of London.” Hyunjin takes out a map from the stack of files and lays it out on the surface of his desk. “After today, I will have the deeds for the last two properties, and we can begin transport if you require it.”
“How far are the last two properties from here?”
“Six miles.” Hyunjin answers before pointing at two different locations. Chris leans forward to examine the distance. “I have to say, this is a great way to have connections across the country.”
Hyunjin isn’t wrong. This is what Chris needs. He can cover more ground this way and expand outwards. His previous purchases were in France to help establish roots, but here he can expand his footing west. He’s unsure what his next move will be. Maybe he will mingle with the nightlife.
The young man speaks up again. “Forgive me for being curious, but what brings you here? Has the city summoned you?”
“A change of scenery, I guess you could say.”
“How is Romania?” Hyunjin asks, eyes full of genuine curiosity. “I’ve never been out of the country.”
“The winters can be very unforgiving,” Chris answers honestly. His mind flickers over a dark memory in particular, but he shakes it off to keep his composure. “Summer makes up for it.”
More business talk occurs. There is paperwork to be addressed. Hyunjin signs over deeds to the four properties he had already bought. Keys are to be given with proper labeling. Hyunjin humbly accepts the large amount of money from Chris. The professionalism and trust in this small company appeared to be the right call.
As Hyunjin moves around the cramped office, Chris reaches for a sketchpad on the corner of the desk he’d been eyeing for the last half an hour. There is an illustration of a skyline of buildings in brown ink. It’s then that Chris realizes it’s not ink that was the medium used; rather, it was coffee. The paper still has a lingering scent from the brewed beans. Chris admires the talent before speaking about it. “Did you paint this yourself?”
“Yes, sir.” Hyunjin slinks back into his chair, almost embarrassed that he left the artwork on display. “It’s just a silly hobby of mine.”
“You’re quite talented. Your art belongs on walls.”
There’s a bitterness in Hyunjin’s tone as he replies. “Unfortunately, my art doesn’t generate enough income to cover my expenses.”
Chris gives a knowing nod. He’s met plenty of starving artists throughout the years. Hyunjin doesn’t stop him from flipping through the pages of artwork; instead, he continues to fill out more paperwork. There is a range of pieces. Flowers at every stage of life, distinct memories of the places Hyunjin traveled to, and then there are a few faceless couples in various embraces. The man is clearly a romantic.
Chris nearly drops the pad when flipping over the next page. Disbelief floods his system. It can not be. There is no way that what he sees is real. It must be a trick. He blinks a few times to assure himself that what is on this page isn’t a delusion of a grieving man.
There, taking up a full page, is a sketch of you.
He runs his fingers over the illustration, tracing the hair that frames your face. The eye shape is the same. Your lips are just as full as he remembers. The sketch includes the brow bone, cheekbones, and even the scar on your chin. It’s in fact you, his bride. This man’s sketchpad captured his eternal love.
Your remains are dust in a grave back in Romania. He left you in the gardens you adored so much. This is not an imagined piece, Chris tells himself. Most of Hyunjin’s drawings don’t have distinct features. This is a vivid sketch he drew of you. That means after four hundred years, you have returned to this plane of existence.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Hyunjin asks, pulling Chris out of his haze of thoughts. “It’s my fiancée. We’re planning to get married in the spring.”
It’s confirmed then. You have returned. Now the vampire understands why he is here. You were calling out to him, asking him to find you. That is why he is in London now. It all makes sense. He just has to find you.
“Look at me,” Chris commands suddenly. Hyunjin glances up from where he is signing his name to make eye contact. There is a pull on the vampire’s powers as he speaks. “I am taking this piece. You will not miss it. Do you understand?”
The human nods in response. “Of course. I’d be delighted if you did.”
Chris gently tears the drawing out of the notepad before folding it in half to fit inside his coat pocket. His tone stays calm and collected despite the way there is a fire under his skin lighting up all his nerves. He needs to be alone with this discovery. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hwang. I must take my leave now. You will contact me when you have the other deeds for me.”
“Yes, sir.” Hyunjin nods once more, still completely compliant. “I’ll send word right away.”
The sun remains tucked behind the buildings of London by the time Chris steps back out into the city. He couldn’t care about the list of properties now in his name. Nor the ring of keys jingling in his pants pocket. He should care; each is an anchor for him to travel through. When he needs to slumber or recover his power, he will have locations spread across the country.
This also means the vampires he creates will have someone safe to go to. Unlike him, his creations cannot face the sun. The newborns are too young, unable to have the strength to embrace daylight without perishing. If he had one newborn at each of the six properties, it wouldn’t take long to find you and where you reside. He even has a starting point in knowing where Hyunjin works.
How fortunate he is to be given this fate.
Hyunjin’s portrait of you is heavy in his coat pocket. Ever so carefully he pulls the thin paper out to examine again now that he is alone. His eyes are not tricking him. It really is you on this paper, pretty charcoal smile and all.
A rush of emotions hit Chris hard enough to almost buckle his knees. He remembers the day he lost you vividly. A nightmare he never escapes. He never should have left you in the castle. How foolish he was not to expect some sort of retaliation from the enemy. Even with his most trusted knights in charge of your evacuation, it wasn’t enough to keep you safe.
The war seems so childish now. He was summoned to fight the opposers. Ottoman envoys threatened his reign again, trying to remove him from power. He wouldn’t give in easily. Not after the death of his father and brother. He avenged their deaths and would continue to squash the enemy like bugs. He was such a loyal servant to God until then.
All he asked was for your safety.
If he were going to fight in God’s name and taint his soul with their deaths, then at least his mighty self could protect you.
Then God abandoned him.
No, after years of devotion, God betrayed him.
Chris hauled himself onto the first horse he could reach when hearing word about your evacuation. The beast tried its best to sprint despite the heavy war armor not only on its body but on him as well. No whines or protests came out when he commanded the animal to cut through the woods to intercept your route. He could come from a different angle and take the enemy by surprise if the soldiers followed you. All he had to do was make it to you. Then he could defend you.
The scenery was a blur; sunlight flickered through the leaves like a strobing light. Hooves of the horse barely connected with the ground before pushing off to drive further forward. Chris was certain he could make it. He had to; there was no other option.
By the time he made it to the forest edge, he saw your horse go down. The mighty beast you raised yourself was caught in a bear trap in the snow. Poor thing landed in a heap, depositing you in the snow. Its cry was a warning to the three soldiers not too far behind you. Instead of risking their beasts, they were on their feet, swords out and stabbing the snow to disarm the hidden bear traps.
This strip of land was meant for a battle the last time the army rose up. Chris never ordered the traps to be removed. He wanted it to be a safety measure if the opposing side decided to try to sneak around the castle again now that the river had frozen over.
Currently, it is a death trap for everyone in the field.
“Christopher!” You screamed out, your voice distraught and breathless not only from exhaustion but also from fear.
“Stay by Berry!” he bellowed out in response. “I will come to you!”
Chris commanded his horse forward. A scapegoat, one to no doubt share the same fate as your horse. An unfortunate causality if it came to it. He didn’t care; all that mattered was getting to you. The soldiers moved quicker in response, knowing their chance to assassinate you was slipping out of their fingers.
By some miracle the horse under him made it nearly to you. Chris let gravity take him to the ground when he was sent flying from the saddle. The armor on his body would protect him; he had no fear of the traps. He simply rolled until he found his footing. He drew his sword next and charged forward.
Steel collided with steel as Chris reached one soldier. Despite how tired he was, the new wave of adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him moving. He had years of combat under his belt. Hell, this was the second war he fought in. Many of the soldiers lack the training to tackle the challenge he is. Enemies spoke of him as a dragon, powerful in his destruction and swift too.
It was not his life on the line; it was yours. Chris pushed through the fatigue to kill the first soldier. He barely had time to breathe before another was on him. His heartbeat pounded in his ribcage and in his ears. It was deafening to the point that he couldn’t even hear his own screams.
Though he still wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. By the time he killed the second soldier, the final one was making his way to you. Chris couldn’t cross the snow any faster. You didn’t even scream. You fought with all of your being, the same when you practiced with Chris for months. Your only line of defense was the blade in your hand, but it wasn’t sufficient.
Time froze when Chris saw the blade drive into your stomach. The world narrowed to a single point of your frame folding toward the snow, your breath catching in shock. He reached you just as the soldier raised his weapon again. Chris didn’t think; he moved. He swung his sword with all of his might, driving his own sword across the man’s neck and taking his head clean off. He didn’t care for the spasming body, too busy kicking it aside to catch as you knelt. Blood was seeping out of your wound, turning your beautiful gown a dark shade of red.
“No!” The word tore out of him, raw and shaking. One hand pulled you close; the other pressed against your wound. Chris knew it was fruitless; the snow was staining red under you. Even if he could get you back to the castle, it would be too late. He continued to plead. “Stay with me. Please.”
“My king...” Your voice came out weak. You struggled to keep your eyes open. “I will find you again.”
Chris pressed his forehead against yours. “Do speak such words to me. You will survive. You must! I can’t live without you.”
Through his teary eyes, he could see the faintest of your smiles. “Promise me… you will wait for my return.”
He opened his mouth to argue, to beg, or to deny the truth, yet your body relaxed in his arms before he could say anything. Your eyes slipped shut, and you were gone. Snuffed out like a candle. The warmth was already beginning to fade.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, not you. Not you.”
Chris couldn’t move. God wouldn’t do this to his most loyal servant. Still, he prayed to the Almighty One. One hour turned into several until his soldiers discovered him frozen in place. It would take three of his strongest to separate him from your body. And even then, he reached for you as if he still believed he could bring you back.
That was the day he renounced God. He had dedicated years to this being; he killed thousands in his name, and he swore unwavering loyalty. No more; no longer would he do what God asked. God took the only thing he prayed to be safe during the war. The only thing in this world he cared about.
If God didn’t listen to him, why would he continue to serve?
Rage fueled Chris. There was no exhaustion, no hunger, no thirst. The celebration of the victory didn’t reach his ears. He stormed through his recovering city on foot, still wearing his battle armor stained with blood. He marched right up the church’s steps, through the doors, until he found the one person who could answer his burning questions. The priest claimed to be a messenger for God, and then Chris would test that.
“My wife is dead.” Chris huffed out, still fighting to be civil. “Is he not listening to our prayers today?”
“My king.” A hand found his shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “God has his reasons. It’s not our place to question his plan.”
The calm, collected tone in response may as well be hot tar thrown onto Chris’ body. He reached for the holy man, grabbing fistfuls of his pristine white robes and hoisting him up onto his tiptoes. He could feel the panicked breath against his face. The words leaving him were venom. “Bring her back to me.”
“I cannot, my king!” The same face of fear as the soldiers he killed earlier that day looked back at him. Even this man pleads the same. “He will take good care of her.”
“But what about me?” Chris spat out. “Have I not done everything he’s asked?”
More babbling came out, filled with excuses. Chris couldn’t accept this as his fate. He wouldn’t. His self-control snapped like a fragile twig. Using all of his anger for strength, he shoved the holy man backwards, where the mess of limbs collided with the table of lit candles. Terrified screams broke out as the fabric caught fire.
Panicked gasps filled the room from the other priests and the soldiers that followed Chris here. He moves without deliberation, reaching for his sword to unsheathe. Chris drives the blade down through the man’s sternum, trapping the body in place as it continues to burn. This man won’t escape this fate, just like you were forced to endure yours.
It’s then when he stares up at the statue of Christ on the wall. Despite the growing flames, Chris couldn’t feel the heat. Not even against the steel of his armor. He kept eye contact with the brown eyes, speaking bitterly. “Are you listening now? I am no longer your servant. Until you return my wife, my soul no longer belongs to you. I will wait until you make this right.”
Chris changed that day. Not just from the grief. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t die. God turned his back on him, refusing to let him have that peace to be with you. Even falling from the castle tower, his limbs would take their time knitting themselves back together. He didn’t age and didn’t need food or water.
He simply existed.
Though as the years crept on, his human form shifted into a monster. Chris developed a craving for blood. His teeth grew into sharp fangs to ease the process, and he learned he would gain sustenance from the sinful act. Perhaps it was Lucifer himself answering his pleas. The only other person who understood God’s betrayal.
Fine, he would become a monster. As long as it kept him on this earth. Now here he stands, in London, the very city where you have returned to this mortal realm.
A woman’s bright laughter rings out ahead of Chris, drawing his attention. His hand tightens around the folded sketch of your face, and he slips it back into his coat before anyone can glimpse it. He forces himself to focus on the approaching pair.
The first woman is blonde, draped in an elegant red dress that speaks of wealth and a certain carefree confidence. She’s amused by something her companion has said; her smile is wide and unrestrained. Chris barely registers her because moving beside her, moving with a grace he remembers too well, is you?
Fate is either playing a cruel game, or his deemed punishment is over.
You are breathtaking in an emerald gown, walking straight toward him, unaware, unguarded. He has imagined this moment for lifetimes, rehearsing it in dreams and nightmares alike, yet now that you are here, he is utterly unprepared.
He purposely moves too close, deliberately in your path, and you collide with him. You gasp softly, immediately turning toward him with an apology spilling out of you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
The sound of your voice nearly turns his limbs into warm wax.
“No, this is my fault, actually.” Chris manages to answer through disbelief at hearing your voice after all this time. He can’t think clearly. “It’s… lovely to see you again.”
Your brow furrows in confusion. “Have we met before?”
“In a dream, perhaps. I have a strange feeling we’ve known each other for a long time.”
You don’t look amused by his charm. If anything, you are wary. Sarcasm is heavy in your tone. “Well, aren’t you romantic?”
Inwardly, Chris curses himself. This is not off to a good start. There was no time to prepare. He straightens, trying to gather the remnants of his dignity. After a second, he bowed his head slightly. “Pardon me, I seem to have lost my mind and my manners. My name is Christopher Bahng, second prince of Wallachia.”
Chris reaches for your gloved hand; you don’t stop him, allowing him to bring your hand up for him to kiss. There for a second, he sees recognition on your face. What did you see? A kiss from a previous encounter? Could it be a memory from when he first met you on the day he requested your hand in marriage? It was all arranged without your consent, yet you were still so excited to meet him.
“Well,” you say, gently withdrawing your hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Before you can step away, the blonde woman halts you with a hand on your arm. “A prince, you say? And where is Wallachia?”
“Romainia.”
“My goodness, you are so far away from home.” She answers with a bright smile. “You’re not lost, are you?”
“No, not at all. I’m purchasing a few properties here in London.”
Her eyes lit up. Chris is used to this response when women fall under his charm. “Then you should join us for dinner.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“No, it's a casual event. Besides, how can you learn more about London if you don’t experience it?” The woman looks over to you, giving you a playful nudge. It’s enough to knock the uneasy expression off your face. You offer her a weak smile, and the woman turns back to him, pleased to have your agreement. “And it’s not every day you get to dine with a real prince.”
This is almost too easy, Chris thinks to himself. Still, he plays his role perfectly with his reply. “I would be honored to join such fine company, then, Miss?”
“Lucy Westenra,” the blonde replies, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She introduces you as well, giving a modern name Chris knows he will have to force himself to remember instead of the one he whispered to you centuries ago. She gestures toward a restaurant at the corner. “We’re dining at seven. Just tell the staff you’re with the Holmwood party.”
“I will be there.” Chris offers a charming smile before turning his attention to you. His voice softens. “I look forward to dining with you and Miss Westenra tonight.”
With that, the two of you leave him on the sidewalk. You turn to give him one last look. He would give anything to know what is coursing through that mind of yours. How much do you remember, if at all? He knows he saw recognition on your face. That was real. He reassures himself that he will learn more tonight. You have returned to him, and now he can work on bringing you back into his arms.
Chris arrives at the restaurant a quarter past seven. The goal was not to appear too eager on his arrival. He wanted the party to be seated before he joined the small group to dine. A shy hostess led him through the warm, lamplit dining room to the table where he found four humans sitting.
Lucy brightened the moment she saw him. “Lord Bahng! You found us.”
He bows slightly. “Miss Westenra, how could I refuse such a charming invitation?”
Next to Lucy, at the head of the table, appears to be Mr. Holmwood. Chris learns a second later through a handshake that his name is Arthur and is Lucy’s current partner. The human has a relaxed heart rate and a brawny arm. He appears unbothered by Lucy’s sudden new guest. Perhaps he is used to her bringing in new people.
Chris turns his attention to you. Gone is the emerald dress, now replaced with a dark blue evening gown. You sit straight and proper with Hyunjin beside you. Chris expected some confusion from you both, but Hyunjin appears to be losing color in his face. He’s not one for mixing business and pleasure, especially when such a hefty bonus is on the line.
From where Chris stands, he offers a nod to the young solicitor. “It’s good to see you again so soon, Mr. Hwang.”
Hyunjin blinks, startled by being spoken to. He half-rises from his chair before sinking back down. “Lord Bahng, it’s an honor to see you again. What a small world London appears to be.”
“Indeed.” Chris answers, finally taking the empty seat beside Lucy and, more importantly, directly across from you. “Who would have thought I would meet some of your friends today as well?”
Lucy wasted no time conversing. “I was just telling Arthur and Hyunjin how we ran into you today. Then I hear you are working with Hyunjin. I must say, you found the perfect man for the job.”
“He’s taking care of my affairs wonderfully.”
The words appear to be enough for Hyunjin to relax. Conversations go on as food is ordered. Chris tries to keep his attention on who is speaking to not draw focus on how long he stares at you. He is still in denial that you are here in front of him again. It wasn’t a dream or a vision. You are human, smiling and giggling with your friends.
Though hearing about your engagement to Hyunjin troubles him. You are not meant for this boring, average human. One who is out of his depth with the business that is falling into his lap. You don’t belong in this cramped, dreadfully noisy city. You belong back home, with him, out tending your gardens. He knows you have always been happiest surrounded by nature.
Chris is in a tough situation. He could uproot you from this life by force. It would be painful for you, but the isolation would drive you to him. On the other hand, he could compel you into submission.
Neither of those options would sit well with him. Though he considers a third path. You fell in love with him once; surely he could do it again. The more he ponders the idea, the more he fancies it. Yes, this sounds the most rewarding for both of you.
While Chris was deep in his thoughts, the surrounding conversation shifted to a darker subject. The humans he used for sustenance are being found. Each of the victims was drained of their blood, and the only wounds appear to be two marks on their necks. At first, the group suspects an animal, though that theory is shot down rather quickly with the eccentric history of London.
Arthur shakes his head as he speaks. “The papers are calling it the work of a madman. A serial killer stalking the streets.”
“How tragic,” Chris says, folding his hands in his lap. His expression is unreadable. “London is a great city. However, even the greatest of cities have their darker corners.”
Lucy shivers at the comment. “It’s frightening to think someone could be out there choosing people at random.”
“Monsters often walk unnoticed,” Chris adds softly. “It is their nature.”
Hyunjin frowns at that, but before he could speak, Arthur clears his throat. He takes Lucy’s hand with a smile. “Well, enough grim topics. We were here to speak about good news.”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed pink as her excitement grew. She can’t stop the words spilling out of her. “We’re engaged!”
An excited noise leaves you, followed by you clapping your hands in delight. The announcement brings you genuine joy. Your smile is wide and just as sunny as Chris remembers. The light it brings even causes Hyunjin to gaze at you with adoration.
A wave of bitterness taints the vampire’s mood. He doesn’t let it show when he speaks. “My sincerest congratulations. A union of hearts is a rare and precious thing.”
“We’re having a celebration in Whitby this weekend with Arthur’s family,” Lucy said. “You must come.”
If you are here for such an intimate announcement, then you are a close friend to Lucy. Plus, it appears she drags you along regardless of your wishes. If that’s true, you will be at Whitby to celebrate with her. Then the party would give him another opportunity to see you.
Chris gave a low, thoughtful hum. “As fate would have it, I shall be in Whitby around that time. It would be discourteous to decline such hospitality.”
Arthur reaches for his glass of wine. “Thank you for appeasing my fiancée. She can be rather forward with her demands.”
Lucy’s happiness turns to a deep scowl before she smacks Arthur on the arm. “How dare you slander me like this?”
“Is it slander if it’s true?” You pipe up with a giggle.
From there, the conversation flows naturally. Chris speaks with practiced charm, weaving stories of Transylvanian landscapes, ancient customs, and curious superstitions. Lucy hung on every word like a curious child desperate for adventure. You and Hyunjin listened with polite fascination. Even Arthur, who appeared skeptical of anything foreign or unusual, seemed drawn in.
Though the longer the meal goes on, Chris realizes your struggle with the celebratory wine. Your face contorts in disgust with every small sip. The vampire fights to keep his chuckle to himself. Even in your new life, you don’t enjoy Pinot Noir.
The next chance Chris gets, he stops the waiter to order a bottle for the table. Once it’s delivered, he makes you an offer. “Would you like to try this one?”
You freeze momentarily, surprised at Chris speaking directly to you. “Uh, this is fine. I’m just not accustomed to red wine.”
“Try this one then.” He insists, pushing a glass of the straw-colored wine towards you. “It will pair better with your dish.”
“What is it?”
“It roughly translates to ‘royal maiden’ in English,” Chris answers you. “The grapes in this wine grow in Transylvania and Moldavia in particular. It won’t be as harsh.”
A blush creeps onto your face as the group focuses attention on you. You take a cautious sip, and your surprise is hard to hide. Chris was right; you enjoy it. He moves to pour himself a glass to hide the smugness trying to escape him. It’s not much interaction with you, yet it’s enough to have him on cloud nine.
When the bill arrived later, Chris intercepted it with a graceful flick of his hand. “Please allow me. It is a joy to share a meal with new friends.”
Arthur protests, though weakly, too lost in the bottom of his wine glass. Hyunjin didn’t protest at all. Perhaps still too busy trying to understand how this mysterious man he was working with slipped so seamlessly into his circle. However, Lucy squeezes Chris’ arm with affection. “You are too kind to some strangers who bullied you to join us. I’m glad my intuition was right about you.”
Chris offers a courteous smile. “The pleasure, Miss Westenra, is entirely mine.”
The alcohol in her system eats up his response. Poor Arthur might have to carry her out. Though she seems coherent enough with her next words. “I’ll cover your travel costs to and from Whitby. No arguments, Lord Bahng. I’ll have Hyunjin arrange it with you the next time you meet.”
Today is a success the more Chris thinks about it. He arrived in London, completely lost, unsure why he was called here again, only to find out you have returned to Earth. Four hundred years he waited, and by chance he inserted himself into your little bubble of life.
Fate continues to work out in Chris’ favor. A letter arrived early in the morning from Lucy. An offer to join her today at a gathering to celebrate the engagement before the trip to Whitby. Nothing too extravagant. Just lunch at her home. Chris couldn’t stop himself from attending. Not now that he’s found a foot in the door with you. He needed to see you again, needed to be near you again. The few days apart ate away at him. He can’t think about anything else.
The first memory that sprang to mind was from a few weeks after your wedding. A huge snowstorm ravaged the castle before winter began. The storm was especially bad; it left powder almost waist-high even in the courtyard. All he wanted was to spend the morning in bed or in front of the enormous fireplace. No responsibilities, just time with his wife. Though he woke to a bed that lacked your warmth.
He pulled on his layers, and with a bit of a search, he found you arguing with a steward over the hounds. Chris couldn’t fight his smile as you debated with your full chest. Something along the lines of letting the hounds have a bit of fun. The steward looked towards his king for support but found none. Of course he would side with you; these hounds were your pride and joy. You trained each of them from the age of a pup to hunt and fight. Now all you wanted was for them to play and live life to the fullest. Overall, you wanted the animals to experience happiness.
Perhaps that’s why Chris loves you so much. These dogs were larger than wolves; he’d seen one take down a war horse on your command. You had no fear, only confidence in their earned loyalty. You would lay your life down for these beasts. So with word from your king and a triumphant smile plastered on your face, you lead the hounds out.
Your giggles filled the otherwise quiet castle. Then a wall of fur, followed by excited yips, barreled past Chris, nearly trampling him. A fate worth a death if it meant he could see the happiness on your face for a lifetime. You were as graceful as a newborn lamb trying to traverse the piles of snow. It didn’t matter that you were a queen in this moment. Chris continued to watch from a window, and in that moment he realized you were the secret to completing his life.
Now as he steps out into the Westenra Gardens, he is drawn to your giggles once more. Clouds drifted slowly across the afternoon sun, softening the glow above him. The daylight was already weakening him, yet he wasn’t worried. Here, all he needed to do was pretend to be an elite socialite. Not much of a role to play when he was an expert at it. His charm came effortlessly, especially among the women.
Chris sipped wine, working his way through the people until he managed to worm his way next to you. Today you are donned in a pretty yellow outfit. One of your fingers brushes along a row of roses. “Are you married, Christopher?”
He answers without hesitation. “Widowed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
“No. Don’t apologize.” He kept his voice even; however, the question tugged at old wounds. The sun, the memories, and your gentle curiosity were testing his composure.
“Was it an ailment?” you asked softly.
“A casualty of war,” he said. “The enemy wished to hurt me because their loss was certain.”
“Was she lovely?”
“She was the most beautiful creature.” His gaze drifted to the horizon, though he saw only the past. “I saw heaven with her. I keep a lock of her hair sealed in here.” He touched the inner pocket of his coat. “It’s always with me.”
Chris notices the admiration in your eyes. All you want is a lover who is devoted. It’s what all romantics want. Though the wine in his glass now tastes like pure vinegar. He cannot allow you to look at him in this way. The fight against his self-restraint is taking all of his energy. He shifts the subject abruptly. “I hear you are going to marry Hyunjin. Tell me about him.”
You sighed. “I worry he loves too much.”
“There’s no such thing.”
You shift the weight on your feet, still playing with the roses. “You think so? He works so hard. He overextends himself. I worry he’ll go mad from the stress.”
“He’s dedicated,” Chris replies. “He wants to give you a fulfilling life.”
“We have a fulfilling life. I want to see him more.”
That comment causes an ache in Chris. You are a human dealing with such a simple emotion. Longing, but to a smaller degree than the vampire in front of you. The very emotion he had felt for centuries. Something he could never allow himself to feel again now that he’s found you. He hates it. You shouldn’t have these emotions. Yes, it’s part of being human; however, your past life suffered. He doesn’t want you to endure any pain in this life. It’s selfish, he knows. There is so much more to life that you should be enjoying and experiencing instead of this negativity.
Now Chris is upset it’s taken this long to find you. He reassures himself, ‘This is all temporary.’ He will take you and give you the gift of immortality. Then you can be together. He will take you anywhere you want to go. It doesn’t have to be home necessarily. It’s just going to be as far away from Hyunjin as it can be.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “You don’t need to hear silly troubles.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, and he meant it more than he wished he did. “I’m enjoying your company. Hopefully, you don’t mind me taking the liberty of seeking you out. This country is lonely when you don’t know it.”
“It’s lonely when you know it.”
Chris hates that answer. Hyunjin might be trying his best to provide a good life for you, but he’s not successful. The sadness in your voice stings worse than a blade carving out his side. His fingers drum against the fragile glass in his hands as his anger bubbles inside of him.
The clouds thickened overhead, dimming the sun further. Chris felt the shift immediately. His strength was returning in a slow, dangerous trickle. He straightened unconsciously. He needed to be careful. Restraint and control, he mentally repeats. As much as he wants to act, there are too many witnesses here.
“Oh, blast.” A surprised gasp from you draws the vampire’s attention. When you reached out to steady a rose, a thorn pricked your finger. From where he stands, he can see a bead of blood forming right on the tip of your finger.
Chris reacts before thinking, moving faster than a man should, far too eager, and producing a handkerchief. He caught your hand, covering the wound before more blood could seep out. However, even just a drop carried the smell to his nose. The scent was a strike to the chest. That one little droplet was luring the beast inside him in.
His grip tightened. He needed to control himself. You were the last person he wanted to harm. Perhaps it was the sun’s doing; it was draining him quicker than he was used to. His nostrils flared despite his will. The hunger surged. An instinctive piece of him, still humiliating, though. He forced his jaw to lock, though his fingers betrayed him again, tightening around your delicate hand.
“Christopher,” you winced. “You’re hurting me.”
Your voice was a lighthouse in a storm, cutting through the haze. Shame flooded him, dousing him in freezing-cold water to shake him from the stupor he was in.
“I’m stopping the blood,” he said too sharply. He hated the edge in his tone. Gentle; be gentle, he reminded himself. He tried to loosen his grip, truly. The instinct to hold you, to keep the blood near, fought him like an ingrained reflex.
She must not fear you. Not her. Never.
You tugged your hand back. “It’s only a scratch. Really.”
Chris released you instantly, stepping back as though distance alone could cage the hunger. He swallowed hard, forcing breath into lungs that did not need it, forcing the monster inside him to heel. He is stronger than this, and he is better than this.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
No, he should be apologizing. He needs to beg for forgiveness for that lapse. Anything; he could say anything to help defuse the situation.
He doesn’t get the chance. Before he could vocalize any type of excuse, Hyunjin’s voice came from across the yard. You turn toward him, relief and affection brightening your face. Chris remains glued to his spot, watching you go to him, seeking that solace away from him.
The glass of wine in his hand shatters a second later, causing the pieces of glass and drink to spill into the roses at his feet. His other hand still held onto the handkerchief, your blood staining the white cloth and still calling out to the monster side of him.
Chris needs to leave. He needs to leave now. The chains holding his restraints are starting to break from the pressure. It takes all of his might to weave through the crowds to make it back to his carriage. He needs a moment alone. Just one moment.
The handkerchief may as well be a brick in his hand. He can still smell your blood thanks to his heightened senses. It’s intoxicating and mouthwatering. An opium haze couldn’t make him this delirious.
The vampire’s strength causes the carriage’s door hinges to screech. The force of the slam damaged a pane in the glass window. A small price to pay, he thinks to himself. He nearly dives into the darkness of the carriage to be free of the sun and finally has that moment of privacy.
His eyes stay trained on the opening, weary of the humans on the property, while he caves to temptation. He brings the bloody fabric to his mouth and sucks to pick up the remnants that he can. Your blood is honey on his tongue. A sweetness that rips an involuntary moan out of him and drives his eyes to roll back.
Shame burns under his skin as he sucks on the fabric, chasing more of the taste of you. He needs more. Fresh on his tongue so he can taste it correctly. It wouldn’t take much; he would never drain you like the humans he uses for sustenance. Just enough to tame the beast in him.
Damn his attraction to you. Even the monster wants you.
Is it even the blood he wants?
No, Chris knows the answer to that. Images of your naked body flood him. He groans at how quickly his cock fills out in his pants. There hasn’t been anyone over the years. No one to touch or love. He couldn’t bring himself to if it wasn’t you.
He works with minimal struggle to free his cock. His hand strokes himself to alleviate the ache. The handkerchief is still in his mouth as he holds onto the remaining taste of you. What a pathetic sight he would be; he wonders if you would scold him. He misses the days he desired you so desperately and you would play with him like a toy. He would obey every command you demanded if it meant he could have you.
Movement from the second floor of the house catches his eye. There, sneaking out onto the balcony, are you and Hyunjin? That damn yellow dress is flattering on you. The swell of your breasts only tempts Chris more. He wants nothing more than to rip it off of you and see you in all your beauty.
Hyunjin appears to think the same. The human kisses you messily, as if he were being rushed. The wine in Chris’ stomach sours at the sight of how enthusiastic you are. Though his hand still moves along his cock. From where he sits, he can see one of Hyunjin’s hands sneaking under your dress between your thighs. Your head falls back against the wall as pleasure takes its course. He shouldn’t be watching, and he definitely shouldn’t be getting off to the view. Yet he physically can’t stop himself. This is a battle he will lose as you come around someone else’s fingers.
This will be his one moment of weakness. No one will know about it. Then he will sit and plan his next move. He can not continue this idle waiting around. Thankfully, the blood you gave him will help. It may have been a few drops, but it’s enough. He can now sense you and track you as you move throughout the country, and most importantly, his powers will affect you. Possibly, if he’s lucky, he can awaken your memories, and that will help him win you over.
As night crept through London, Chris rose with an ache in his chest. His dreams were playing with him. No, his subconscious was teasing him. It must be from the small amount of your blood he consumed. The entire time, his memories of you danced through his vision. From cute, harmless, loving moments to even heated nights in the bedroom. It was a hurricane of emotions he was struggling to navigate.
Now he is on the streets, trying to find a meal to regain his strength. The time spent in the sun to see you made him exceptionally weak. Once he feeds tonight, he can check in on you. He doesn’t need creatures to find you. He can do it himself and then satisfy the craving of seeing you.
Normally, Chris is mindful when he feeds. Humans are easy to hypnotize; it’s child’s play as he lures his victim down an alleyway. A palm of his is spread widely over the human’s mouth to keep quiet while fangs sink into their neck.
Tonight is different.
Tonight he pretends it’s Hyunjin he’s feeding from.
This human fights back. Blunt teeth dig into the meat of his hand in protest. It’s not enough to break the skin or even deter him. Hands flail, nails scrape along the fabric of his jacket, and the body squirms. The human is no match for Chris. A rush of power courses through his body as he bites harder into the thin skin of the neck, straight into the artery. The pressure splatters warm blood against his face and clothes.
The monster inside him could almost purr like a satisfied cat.
A voice comes from the end of the alleyway. “Hey! Let go of them!”
Chris pulls back, allowing the neck wound to spurt warm blood onto the vampire and his clothes. The human who interfered now panics, eyes wide as it takes in the view and gasping like a fish out of water. The second they bolt, Chris is on them. He moves faster and wraps himself like a snake securing its prey. Not even a scream escapes before his fangs sink into any inch of exposed skin. More delicious blood floods his mouth as he drags the human deeper into the alleyway.
Three humans end up dying tonight. Chris is careful with the third. He needs an exchange of clothes if he wishes to walk among the people without suspicion. However, the surplus of blood coursing through his system is a lot to process. His body fights to adjust, and he knows what he needs to do.
You are a needle in a haystack that is London.
He needs to focus and find you.
His love, his beautiful princess, and his wife. He can’t go home until he finds where you live. Deep down, the pull is there. He can feel it tonight. It’s the same call that brought him to London. The invisible thread that connects you is finally visible.
A spin on his heel, and then the vampire runs.
It’s not a long journey. He was right about your residence being close to Hyunjin’s work. Chris knows it’s a risk to come here. Dawn arrives early, increasing the likelihood of being spotted, but he can’t resist your allure.
The intent was to go to slumber after he fed.
Now here he stands outside your residence, staring at the open window on the second floor as if it taunts him. The half-drawn curtains are shifting like waves as the light breeze hits. Even from here, he can smell the familiar perfume you wore earlier today. It’s comforting and making it harder for him to fight his will.
He will slip in just to make sure you are sleeping well, and then he will leave. That way he appeases his desires while managing his ongoing battle of restraint.
Except for the moon shining through the window, the bedroom is completely dark. Chris stands to the side, hidden by the curtains, to assess the bedroom. The air was thick with the hush of sleep, broken only by the rhythmic breathing from Hyunjin. He lies sprawled beside you, oblivious to the threat of the vampire’s presence.
This was perfect. Chris moves like a ghost, silently coming closer without a creak or groan from the floorboards below his feet. His predatory, razor-sharp eyes instantly focused on the bed where you were lying. Your cheeks are slightly flushed, and your chest rises and falls in erratic waves.
Chris’ lips curl up into a knowing smirk as he approaches your side of the bed. Even from here, he could sense the heat radiating from you, the subtle scent of your arousal mingling with the florals of your sheets. Leaning closer, he inhales deeply, his gaze tracing the way your body betrays your secret fantasies. Hyunjin still snores softly, unmoving, lost to his exhaustion.
The vampire sinks to his knees and positions himself near your face. His icy fingers hovered inches from your warm skin. Your eyes move behind your lids, your lips parting in another hushed gasp from the dream. His voice comes out a gentle whisper that he lets seep into your subconscious. “My beautiful bride, what are you dreaming about so passionately? And why is it not me?”
His fingers curl around the edge of the blanket and ever so softly pull the bedding down to your knees, revealing the cotton nightgown you wear. The fabric has gone sheer over the years, showing off the way your body shivers with the cold air against your flushed skin. Your thighs press tightly together, almost in an attempt to alleviate an ache between them. His eyes continue to scan back up, watching the way your nipples harden to little buds, almost begging for his mouth.
“Tell me, what pleasures consume you?”
You stir slightly, brows furrowing as if his words tugged at the edges of your sleep. Mercifully, you didn’t wake. Chris’ eyes gleam with dark intent. Just the details. He needs to know the details, and then he will leave. Right through the window he came in, and then he could sneak back underground, where he could plan his next move.
He extended his will, tapping into his powers, weaving himself into the very fabric of your dream. The barriers of your subconscious didn’t fight, letting him slip past like a fog slowly moving in around you. There, right in front of him, was the same bedroom. This time, lit by several candles. You lie where you are now, only with parted thighs and the same nightgown bunched at your hips.
A scowl finds its way onto the vampire’s face. It’s Hyunjin who is here as well in this dream. He rests between your legs, hands roaming over your soft thighs. There is a smile plastered on his face before shifting lower to press a kiss to your pussy. His tongue slips out a second later, lapping greedily at your slick folds. Your body arches, fingers tangling in his long black locks to keep him in place. He groans against your pussy, bringing his lips up to your clit to suck, earning him moans that only echo in your mind.
Back in the waking world, your legs shifted again, this time more desperately. A soft whimper escaped your lips. A sharp pain jabs Chris in the stomach; he couldn’t watch this scene any longer. He couldn’t let you succumb to this siren’s call. Hyunjin was nothing and certainly not your lover. He would have to remind you of how things were. The pleasure he brought you outmatched any man.
In your dream, the scene shifts. Hyunjin’s form blurs at the edges as Chris lets his influence take hold. You feel an icy hand turn your face to the left. It’s not Hyunjin in your line of sight; this time it’s Chris. His gaze is hypnotic, beckoning your attention. You can’t pull away or resist; only watch as he leans closer to connect his lips with yours. It’s a demanding kiss; his tongue slips past your lips to invade your mouth. It’s so possessive, forcing you to taste the lingering iron on his tongue from his victims tonight. This isn’t right, yet you still melt into the kiss despite the confusion running through your thoughts.
“You should be dreaming of me,” Chris commands in your mind. “I am the only one who can fulfill your deepest cravings.”
The bedroom shifts around you, changing to an entirely different place. Chris reshapes the dream into the room he used to share with you back home. The sheets are different, as is the plushness of the mattress, and even the candlelight changes to the gigantic fireplace in the room. Hyunjin has faded completely now, replaced by Chris’ figure. Broad shoulders and a pale, sculpted chest loom over you. Chris takes his time, plush lips placing soft kisses along one of your collarbones inwards to your sternum. He doesn’t stop, continuing between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach.
Your back arches off the bed when his hands connect to your hips. His palms aren’t as soft as Hyunjin’s. Years of fighting wars have made the skin tougher; it’s not as delicate and holds more scars. The rings on his fingers feel cool against your flushed skin as he trails them down to your thighs to part your legs. Your breathing hitches in the dream as your hips lift instinctively to invite him. He settles between your thighs, not wasting time. His mouth is inches from your pussy. He maintains his eye contact as his tongue runs along the wet slit, savoring the taste for himself.
“You taste the same.” He says with a throaty moan. “Do you remember how I’d spend hours here? Right between these thighs. You’d scream so loud. I’d walk past the maids, and every one of them clenched their thighs tight, silently begging to be you.”
You silently shook your head, perhaps to say no or to ask him to stop. However, no words came out of your mouth. Not when you are too distracted by the way he licks across your hole, savoring the wetness that leaks out of you. His muscular arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you from moving away. He wants you closer so he can slip his tongue inside you, his nose brushing against your clit.
Faintly, a memory flickers. It’s quick, splicing between your dream and itself. It’s you, with Chris in the same position, but this time your hands are tangled in the mess of brown curls on top of his head, holding him in place as you grind yourself against him. You are in complete control, using him selfishly for your pleasure. You taunt him, demanding he make you come, and he simply moans against you, loving the way he is your servant. The prince himself, the soon-to-be king of this castle you are in. He is reduced to nothing more than a royal’s whore, and he would be pleased to die here.
In the real world, your body mirrored the fantasy. Your thighs clenched tight as wetness soaked through the nightgown and down to the sheets. Chris remained kneeling by your side, his physical form watching with satisfaction as your chest heaved. Your face twisted in the building ecstasy. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. He whispers, his voice laced with dark amusement. “You might not remember my touch, beloved. But your body doesn’t lie. It knows and craves it even now.”
As your dream peaked, waves of pleasure crashed through you in the vision of his unrelenting mouth. Chris withdrew his influence just enough to let you teeter on the edge. He wanted the echo of his presence to linger in your veins long after the night faded. His teeth ache as he fights the urge to ravish you, have you fully, and come on his cock. It would be effortless; he could take you now, right next to Hyunjin. He wouldn’t stop until all your tension melted away, and you felt spineless.
Though he shall wait. He’s influenced enough tonight. This should tip the odds in his favor. You remembered him. Somewhere deep in that brain lies all of your past life. He just needs to find the right keys to free the memories. His plan is working. Tomorrow he will see you again, and he will awaken you. His one and only love, his stunning bride, will soon be back in his arms.
There is a flourishing market in Whitby. The town is not as bustling as London, though Chris enjoys the lack of chaos. He finds himself people-watching and relishing being in the same space. Even the monster in him is quiet for the time being.
Though when Chris turns the corner, a hint of familiar florals catches his attention. There, at the cafe across the street, sits a face he’s excited to see. He was right about Lucy dragging you to Whitby as well. However, from where he stands, he only notices one cup of tea at the table where you sit. You are alone.
Chris crosses the empty street, a smirk on his face. “I wasn’t expecting a familiar face until tonight.”
You look up from your book, and your face flushes at the sight of him in front of you. Are flashbacks of your dream playing in your mind right now? Are you recalling how vivid it was? How good it felt to have your husband rather than that excuse of a man between your legs. You must be judging by the way you shift to press your thighs together. Chris fights to keep his composure. He has to refrain from speaking about it.
He comments on your lack of greeting. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“No,” you say, shaking your head while closing your book. “I’m sorry. It’s just warm, and I was lost in my book.”
“It’s quite alright; we all love an adventure.” Chris motions to the empty seat across from you. “May I join you?”
You nod, using the moment to take a sip of your drink to help calm yourself. Chris can hear the way your heart skips a beat. Your gaze never meets his. It’s not fear per se; maybe it’s confusion. There is an unease to your behavior, a subtle way you are shrinking to appear smaller. Perhaps the dreams plus your last interaction are causing this.
Chris speaks to make amends if that is the case. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to apologize for how I acted in the garden with you. You see, I don’t react well to blood, so I panic even if I don’t need to.”
“Oh,” you say with slight confusion before remembering. “It’s no big deal. I had already forgotten about it. Lucy is the same way, so I understand.”
Then it is the dreams that are causing this battle for you? Is that pure little soul of yours challenged with feeling something for a different man? Chris hopes this is the case. The bond of affection is stronger between two lovers, and that beautiful dream showed off how your body knew him. No, your body longed to be touched so intimately by him after all these years. Now it’s just your mind trying to catch up.
“Christopher, may I ask you an absurd question?”
It’s so curious how the people around him call him with proper titles, but you don’t. Maybe old habits endure a lifetime. Chris offers a small smile. “Go ahead.”
“Do you ever think you are in the wrong lifetime?”
“What do you mean?”
“My whole life has been filled with flashes. Images of a different time. The pull is overwhelming.”
You feel the bond. It’s confirmed and not one-sided. Chris is on the right path, then. He just needs to give you enough to awaken more of your memories. That’s all it would take to bring you back into his arms. He doesn’t have to use force. He can achieve your love how he wants to.
Chris reaches over to place a hand over yours; it’s gentle and cautious to leave enough room for you to pull away. He is being bold here. Especially if Lucy or Hyunjin is nearby and could ruin this moment. You are in such a fragile state of confusion; he needs to try to guide you in the right direction. He speaks calmly. “Perhaps it’s a past life trying to communicate with you. I think you should embrace the visions. Let them tell you the story they’re desperately trying to show you.”
For the first time in this meeting, you make direct eye contact. Chris watches the way your pupils are searching his. Are you searching for lies? Trust? You sit up straighter, still not moving your hand away. “Why did you seek me out? Be honest.”
Chris can never lie to you. He does what you ask. “You look so much like my wife. It’s hard not to be around you. Though I’m trying to be respectful.”
“I’m not your wife.” You mumble.
“Are you convincing me or yourself?”
Silence falls between you guys. The tension is thick, similar to the fog that moves in when a storm comes in. You are fighting the connection, the pull drawing you to him. It could be because of Hyunjin. Chris doesn’t doubt you have true feelings for this man. He is just not who you are intended to be with. It will take time to break you of his charm. Though the vampire is confident in his progress.
Your hand pulls away at the sound of an familiar voice joining the table. “Lord Bahng! You made it to Whitby!”
“Of course, Miss Westenra.” Chris answers, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. “I couldn’t waste your generosity.”
“So you will show up tonight then?”
“I will be in attendance.” Chris rises from his seat to offer it to the human. “Though please sit. I need to take my leave.”
“I’ll grab another chair. You should stay.”
“With sadness, I regretfully decline.” Chris slightly bows. “I was on my way to an appointment with a merchant, and I was simply saying a greeting in passing. I will see both of you beautiful ladies tonight.”
Lucy takes the offered seat, a playful scowl on her face. “You are off the hook for now. Though tonight you will keep us company.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Westenra, you can show off this prince all you wish tonight.”
Chris doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes. Still, you stare at your best friend with fondness as she expresses her giddiness. When the time comes to it, separating you will be a challenge. A thought he will sit on as he takes his leave. He hasn’t thought about bringing two women back to the castle. She is your favorite companion; maybe he should.
So many thoughts run through the vampire’s mind.
It’s just a matter of what will he do?
As more guests arrived tonight, you finally escaped the confines of being chained next to Lucy. The woman of the hour was accepting words about her engagement, and it was the perfect opportunity to speak to you alone. Chris found you in the study across the house. It was quiet over here; the music from the party was faint, almost outshined by the cackling of the wood in the fireplace. Your glass of champagne was empty, resting on a table while you stood by a window, observing the grounds.
“How exhausting it must be to be the best friend.” Chris said, his voice low, almost amused.
“Lucy has the energy of ten racehorses,” you reply, still focused on the view. “I’m surprised you showed up. You hardly seem the sort for engagement parties.”
“No,” he agreed. “However, I find myself drawn to a certain company.”
You turn then, and there is a dusting of warmth along your cheeks. The alcohol Lucy forced on you appears to be working through your system. Though he wouldn’t lie, Chris hoped his words were the real reason you were flushed.
You didn’t comment on his attempt to flirt. Instead, you redirect. “Forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. What did you buy at the market today?”
A faint smile appeared, more fond than his typical friendly mask he wore in front of the humans. “A memory. Or rather, a piece of one.”
He crossed the room with unhurried ease, pulling out a small case from his jacket and placing it upon the table next to your glass. “There was a song,” he continued, almost absently as he opened it. “My wife was fond of it. It played often in the halls of our home.” Carefully and respectfully, he ran his fingers over the old phonograph cylinder. “I came across it again today. I could not leave it behind.”
“A song?” you asked, quieter but still curious.
“Would you like to hear it?”
You hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
Chris moved over to the phonograph in the room and carefully inserted the cylinder. The horn crackled faintly as he set it in motion. A melody came out that was hauntingly beautiful. The vampire pivoted to observe your reaction.
“I know this.” You murmur to yourself. Your eyebrows drew together as you pondered. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Close your eyes,” he whispered. Chris continued to watch you, taking in every flash of recognition. “Do not think. Truly listen.”
There was hesitancy from you. You didn’t trust him. Still, you obeyed. For the first time since he met you in London, he felt a surge of optimism. Would this music be the missing piece? Could this moment be the key that finally unlocks your memories?
The vampire tapped into his powers. He wanted to see what images appeared behind your eyelids. Perhaps he could even supply the memories if it were needed.
You were no longer in the sitting room. Images blurred until the castle manifested in your memory. There were stones beneath your feet, cool and worn smooth by the centuries. The air was richer with a hint of roses that you had picked in the morning. Then there was laughter. It was your laughter, echoing around the castle as you danced to the music. Chris could see you spinning.
Dancing.
He was there, watching from the corner as if you were the only other person in this world. One of his fondest memories. That was the moment when he realized you were his happiness. His entire world was unconsciously swaying to the rhythm, allowing her skirts to glide across the floor. The look of genuine joy on your face made his heart flutter. The next chance that opened, Chris stepped forward to draw you close to him, allowing himself to forget all of his troubles.
The setting shifted. Now a bright sunny day is over your garden. You sat in the middle, fingers weaving flowers into a crown. His voice was quieter there and indulgent as he allowed you to place it upon his head. You looked so satisfied that a king would humor you.
Again, the scene changed. This time snow is falling beyond the tall windows. You sat watching the hounds be released in the courtyard. The dogs were bounding through the fresh powder as they played. You laughed again, amused at their innocence. When you turned your head, Chris was beside you; your breath caught in that moment, right before a kiss.
Your eyes flew open, pulling Chris out of your mental vision. He didn’t even realize he crossed the room to you. There was barely any space between you two now. You let out a small gasp in surprise.
“What did you see?” he asked, his voice an urgent whisper. “Did you see the gardens you used to run through?” His gaze searched yours. He needed to hear it from your lips. Just some kind of confirmation that you remember. “How about the rooftop where you would name the stars for me? Or are the hounds playing in the snow because you know how much they love it?”
“I didn’t see anything,” you said quickly, stepping back. The spike in your heart rate betrayed you. “It was just music.”
“Look me in the eye if you’re going to lie.”
You held his gaze. There was a war battling inside you. Lying was never a strong suit for you. This was evident not only in your previous life but also in the current one. Chris received the confirmation he wanted when you finally admitted it. “The garden. I saw the garden.”
A small, triumphant smile threatened to curl his lips up. “What else?”
“I made you a flower crown.” You said, stepping closer to him. “You pretended to hate it.”
“I did not pretend,” he whispered. “I despised it. You were always putting flowers in my hair.”
“You wore it anyway.”
“For you, my beloved wife.”
Silence filled the room, and even though he didn’t require air to breathe, the tension was suffocating. There were eggshells under the vampire’s feet. You were in such a fragile state. The scales were tipping in his favor. You just needed gentle guidance from him. “What else did you see?”
Your breath trembled when you spoke. “You kissed me.”
“Think harder on that memory,” Chris suggests. “Did I kiss you?”
“No, I kissed you.”
He waited, curious to see your next move. You stepped forward again; the space between you was gone. Your racing heart was beating against his chest cavity. This was of your own free will. He didn’t compel you. Your hand raised, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness he remembered. He leaned into it before he could stop himself.
Centuries.
Four centuries he waited for this. It wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t God finding another way to hurt him. You were here, alive and well, touching him as if no time had passed. His one true love finally came back to him. He endured so much suffering. All he had to do was make you his again. Surely it would happen; you have now seen the truth.
What he didn’t expect after your hand pulled away was the kiss. You slotted your lips against his with no hesitation. This was a kiss of confidence, not some new discovery. He let you take control as he always did, your tongue slipping past his lips to explore and mingle until you needed air.
He only gave you a breath before he was on you. This time, his kiss was aggressive; he could no longer hold himself back. His hands came to your face, steadying you before prodding your lips with his tongue. Similar to him, you gave him permission immediately.
A rush of emotions hit him. There would be no way to express everything he went through. He didn’t have the words, but he hoped this kiss explained it. His grief, the pain, and his love over the centuries were bundled up to form hope. Now he was exposed like a wound to you, the only person in the world whom he could be vulnerable to.
Then something inside you snapped.
Chris could feel the confusion twisting his face as the sound of your panicked breaths filled the room. You continued to step back, putting more space between you as if it could undo what just occurred. “No,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “No, this isn’t right.”
“Beloved…”
“I love Hyunjin.” You cut him off. Every word came out firm as a shield to protect you. “He is my fiancé, and I am going to marry him.” Chris didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t dare touch you. It would upset you more. You shook your head. “Christopher, you cannot… Whatever this trickery is… These visions. You cannot do this to me.”
His gaze darkened, upset at such an accusation. Through all that concentration on his restraint, he doesn’t hold back his words. “I have done nothing that was not already within you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” he pressed, taking one step forward. “You felt it and you remembered. You kissed me.”
“I made a mistake,” you said sharply, though your voice wavered. “And it won’t happen again.”
Silence settled again as the music from the phonograph died out. Chris’ jaw tightened as frustration blossomed inside the vampire. He never wanted to force you. This damn human was blocking your love. He had waited centuries. He had endured loss, loneliness, and the hollow ache of immortality. And now, as you finally stood before him again, you were slipping through his fingers.
“You are running from the truth,” he mumbled.
“And you are trying to rewrite mine!” You shout back, your voice cracking while tears fall from your eyes. You moved past him, stumbling toward the doorway as if you couldn’t get away fast enough. “Stay away from me, Christopher. Do you hear me? Stay away.”
He didn’t move. For a brief second he saw remorse on your face. Could you see how cruel your words were? The burning of his longing was now sharper, right through his undead heart. Instead of comforting him, you fled before he could say another word. Chris wasn’t sure how much longer this cat-and-mouse chase could go on. Four hundred years weighed heavily on his shoulders. And now, with the sensation of your kiss lingering on his lips, he is being driven to his limit.
Chris remained on the balcony long after you left, trying to settle the war of emotions inside him. He couldn’t return to the party in this state. He would kill everyone in the room. So he waits, as he always has, letting the storm inside him settle. The music from the party still seemed to cling to his ears despite the distance. Partygoers are rowdier now it’s longer into the night. Alcohol continues to be served, filling their bellies with a warmth that soothed all their worries.
From where he stands, his chest aches where his heart once was. These humans are living their lives, joyful and content. No doubt you have probably joined them, hanging off Hyunjin’s arm like a gorgeous jewel he doesn’t deserve.
It’s not fair, he thinks to himself.
He knows you remember; there was recognition in your eyes. You even kissed him, yet you still fight and deny him. Both of his fists clench where they rest on the railing, nails digging so deep into his palms they draw blood. You won’t even entertain the idea, as if you were too scared that he might be right.
What was so horrible in a man’s devotion?
To no one’s surprise, Chris hears a racing heartbeat making its way down to him. It’s Hyunjin, based on the shaky breath before he steps further into the study. Of course, Hyunjin is your knight in shiny armor, here to fight for you. Rightfully so, you left with tears running down your cheeks. It’s what any respectful man would do for his fiancée.
What a fucking nuisance he’s turning out to be.
Hyunjin’s death would destroy you, and Chris would rather not inflict anymore pain on you. No, he wants to bring you back into his arms, where you belong, and give you nothing but happiness to make up for the lost time. Though this human, this human man, is in his way.
And Chris is running out of patience.
The glass door opens behind him; Chris refuses to acknowledge the human. He must rein in these emotions before something drastic happens. He’s waited four hundred years; a little more time won’t hurt anyone. So he focuses on the city view, taking in the stars and bustling nightlife as if it were his kingdom.
“Lord Bahng,” Hyunjin said, steady but tight. “We need to speak.”
There is a brief pause between them. Then Chris turns slowly, his expression far too composed. Not a hint of anger on his face. “Mr. Hwang,” he replies smoothly. “I wondered how long it would take.”
Hyunjin ignored the tone. “You made my fiancée uncomfortable tonight.”
The vampire’s eyes flicker something dangerous at the mere mention of you. Hyunjin is walking on paper-thin ice, poised to break under even the slightest pressure. The world will engulf him entirely. He doesn’t even know the wolf’s den he’s walked into. This pathetic little bunny, plopping himself in the beast’s mouth.
“You lingered too close,” Hyunjin continued, bottom lip trembling. He’s not one for confrontation. This poor lover is trying to find his backbone. Both of his hands were trembling from the nerves coursing through him. His voice fares no better despite his struggle to appear collected. “The way you spoke to her… she didn’t like it. I’m asking you, respectfully, please stay away from her.”
Tick, tick, tick. The heart rate spiked faster again as the silence stretched between them. Chris can see it beat under his clothes, through his skin. Blood pumping faster and faster, even the best orchestra would struggle to perform with such a beat. It’s deafening on this balcony, completely blocking out the party down the hall. The solution to all his problems is calling out to him; the vampire just needs to make a move.
Chris tilts his head slightly, studying Hyunjin. Not as a man studies another in the stakes of a fight, but as a predator measures its prey. He repeats Hyunjin’s words in a question. “Stay away?”
Hyunjin held his ground. “Yes.”
A faint smile curved Chris’ lips, though it did not reach his eyes. His reply comes out softer, a murmur. “How curious? That you would presume to place yourself between us.”
“There is no us,” Hyunjin shot back. “She is not yours.”
There it is, the impressive sound of the ice shattering beneath Hyunjin’s feet. Completely unaware of the danger he’s in. He can’t go back to shore, and no one can help him; he can only try not to drown. Can this human swim? He can’t fight a wolf. Not this pathetic excuse of a man.
The air shifts around them; the clear night sky is no more as clouds move in. Chris can’t stop his powers. His rage is finding an outlet the safest way it can. It’s chaos behind him; he can feel the static from the lightning ready to strike Hyunjin down. Thunder crashes loudly, a strength that shakes the building’s foundation. Chris moves then, not quickly, still maintaining a deliberate grace that makes Hyunjin’s pulse spike again despite himself.
“You speak as though you understand her,” Chris says, his voice low and controlled. A hint of a tremble at the edges. “As though you have earned the right.”
“I care about her,” Hyunjin said. “And I won’t let anyone…”
“I appreciate you looking out for her,” Chris interrupts, the words suddenly sharp, his restraint cracking, “keeping her safe until I found her.”
Confusion finds its way on Hyunjin’s face. He has no time to react more than that, though. Chris was in front of Hyunjin in an instant. The human flinched at such a movement. It was so swift, far too quick for a man. He blinked and felt a strike on his chest, driving him back against the wall. The remaining breath left Hyunjin in a rush as stiff fingers closed around his collar.
“Do you think this gesture is a showing of kindness to me?” Chris hisses, his composure gone now, his emotions raw and furious rising in its place. “To keep her from me? To stand where I have endured four hundred years of longing to be again. Where I have waited...?”
Hyunjin struggled, clawing at Chris’ wrist. He couldn’t free himself. It was impossible. He would need the strength of a hundred men to pry this iron grip apart. Air was struggling to find his lungs. He choked out his words. “She’s not something you can claim!”
Chris’ eyes burned with a wildfire consuming a forest. There was hurt, rage, and something animalistic twisting together. His voice was breaking, shifting to something feral and desperate. A rabid dog ready to kill. “You have touched her life so easily. While I…?”
His words came to a halt. There was a snap in Chris. Hyunjin witnessed it occurred. It wasn’t in a metaphorical sense, but here in real life, in front of him. A thread that had been pulled too tight and was finally breaking. The grip shifted. His face dipped closer, and in the crack of vivid lightning, Hyunjin saw that this person in front of him was no man. He was a creature. Fully elongated fangs peeking past his lips. For a brief, terrible second, Hyunjin saw the rage change to hunger.
“While I have been denied.” Chris finished, barely above a whisper.
The bite was sudden. A sharp, violent, searing pain in Hyunjin’s throat. He had no air left to cry out for help. His body tensed, hands clawing at the creature’s shoulders. The strength holding him there was unyielding. He would die here; he was sure of it. There would be no way to stop the inevitable or to prevent Chris from finding you. Tears burned his lash line as his mind lingered on the cruel image of you dead at his feet, blood staining your clothes and your neck shredded by this monster.
This endless, dreadful moment continued on. The sound of the vampire swallowing his life force was all that remained of the world around them. Hyunjin could feel death coming for him. It was ice cold, starting at his extremities and drifting its way up to where his blood was exiting him.
Then, just as abruptly as he attacked, Chris pulls away. Hyunjin collapses forward, falling to his knees, his breath ragged. One hand clamps onto his neck as if it could stop the remaining blood from leaving him. He doesn’t have much blood left.
Chris stepped away, chest rising and falling. Not from effort, but from something far more erratic. Hyunjin recognized remorse briefly flashing across his face. After that, it vanished. As he spoke, the fangs affected his voice. “After tonight, she is no longer yours. You may believe you are protecting her, but tonight you will be reborn.” His gaze dropped briefly to the mark on Hyunjin’s throat. “I will remake you like God does with his creations. She won’t have you once she sees what I will make you do.”
Hyunjin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. One slow blink, then another. His vision blurred as his mind swam around, lost in the depths of worry. There was no fight when Chris approached him again. No resistance when his mouth was pried open. There was a metallic taste on his tongue flowing down his throat. Hyunjin couldn’t stop it, couldn’t prevent whatever this vampire was planning. All he could do was accept as he mentally prayed for his God to protect you from this evil.
Every vampire Chris makes is tied to him. A dog on a leash. An ant in a colony. One that he can control and use as a tool for his agenda. Hyunjin is no exception; he is a pawn that will be the force that drives you into Chris’ arms. The newborn’s disappearance from the engagement party in fact benefited Chris. A few of the men invited left with Arthur to head down the road to the pub. There was some debate regarding the men’s celebration of the engagement and a woman’s right to gossip. In the sunroom, which was still warm from the setting sun, the women got together. However, Lucy still hasn’t returned with the fresh bottle of champagne she promised.
Chris is perched on the stable’s roof, watching you pass each large window, searching the floors of the house. His eyes flicker up to the bedroom, where Hyunjin and Lucy are. This is a disaster unraveling, and yet Chris can’t find the strength to stop the damage from happening.
“Lucy?” Your voice rings out from the top of the third floor. “My gods, have you drunk so much that you have fallen asleep? You have guests here!”
Chris could see your entire demeanor shift as you passed each window as you got closer. You paused at the cracked bedroom door. Your nose scrunched up at the strong copper smell that had a hint of decay beneath it. Your breathing changed as fear crept in. You called for her once more, softer this time. “Lucy?”
The door opened wider. There was no stopping anything now. Right there, in the middle of the room, Lucy lay sprawled across the bed she shared with Arthur. Her pale throat exposed, her golden hair fanning out like silk over the bedding. Her arm hung limp over the side, fingers grazing the floor. She was still as a statue, eyes wide open. Then you could see someone bent over her.
“Hyunjin?” His name spilled out of your lips before you could stop it.
The newborn vampire raised his head slowly, turning to face you. Chris could see the horror on your face as you took in the sight of your fiancé. The lower half of his face was stained red with fresh blood, not quite understanding how to feed cleanly.
Hyunjin smiled, a wide expression of happiness showing off his long, sharp fangs caught in the candlelight. “Darling, I’m so happy you’re here.”
“What…?” Your hand flew to your mouth. “What have you done?”
Hyunjin blinked, as if the question confused him. He glanced down at Lucy, as though noticing her for the first time. He muttered. “Oh, her.”
The newborn didn’t elaborate. Instead, he climbed off the bed, trying to close the distance between you. Your eyes widened seeing more of Lucy’s blood coating the front of his pretty lilac shirt you buttoned for him a handful of hours ago.
“Don’t,” you said, your voice shaking. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I would never harm you,” he said quickly, desperately. “Never you. You must believe that. Everything I’ve done… it’s been for you.”
“This is madness.”
“No, darling, this is a gift. He gave me a gift!” Hyunjin insisted, taking another step forward. “I will share it with you. We’ll all be together. You will never leave me. We’ll never be parted again.”
“Who did this to you?”
“Lord Bahng. Oh darling, it’s such a wonderful feeling.” Hyunjin let his eyes flutter shut before smiling wide. “I can hear so much. The way your heart is strong, calling out to me.”
“This isn’t right!” You say with a hand raised to keep him from moving closer. The newborn obeys. Not your wish, but Chris’ command of maintaining a certain distance. However, you don’t know this. You couldn’t even if you asked. You are still trying to process the sight of Lucy, let alone the words leaving your fiancé's mouth. There is a hurt in your voice. “What do you mean it’s wonderful? You are killing her.”
“Darling, you just don’t understand.”
“Have you been killing those poor people in the streets?” You ask, stumbling back. Your back hits the doorjamb, though the pain doesn’t register through the shock. “Then coming and lying next to me as if you were not a damn murderer?”
Hyunjin’s mouth parts to answer, though no words come out. Chris tightens his fist, causing the newborn’s throat to stop producing any noise. Hyunjin is a perfect puppet following commands. The lack of an answer drives your fear higher, and this is what he wants. Be afraid of Hyunjin. Run, run as far away from this creature as you can. Then come seek out the one you want answers from.
Chris takes his leave only when he sees you bolt through the house for help. Hyunjin doesn’t move, still rooted in place with Lucy. What happens to the solicitor now doesn’t matter. Not when the purpose of his existence is fulfilled.
How peculiar, though, that you don’t run straight to staff in the house. Hell, you don’t even run down the street to Arthur. No, Chris can hear your desperate sprinting behind him, heading straight for him. The corners of his lips threaten to curl up as satisfaction courses through him.
Soon.
A part of Chris weighs heavily on the consequences of his actions. You drew a line in the sand, and he crossed it to release true horror. Now, looking back, he should have taken you. If not, when you left the restaurant, then the night when he stood in your apartment. He had the perfect opportunity. It would have been easy to grab you, compel you to behave, and then steal you away. He could be halfway across the Black Sea by now.
Though he is a selfish creature. Not everyone has the chance to have their soulmate fall for them a second time. His plan was working. Just another little push and you would have been his. If only he could have handled the anger Hyunjin prodded out of him.
Hyunjin’s transformation was surprising the city. Every news source was covering it, and the police had already tied him to the nine other deaths throughout the city. It was almost too easy for Chris to get away with his actions. He would be able to take you away quietly without a spotlight on him.
He didn’t even need to find you.
You came to him.
Chris doesn’t move from where he sits, eyes trained on the door. Not even a second later, the hinges in the old oak door creak when it opens, and you slip through the opening. Your heartbeat pounds from an elevated heart rate. Chris assumes, with the way you struggle to calm your breathing, you ran all the way here. In the middle of the night, no less.
“Why did I know you were here?” You say, stopping just shy of the desk. “I’ve never even visited this far south before.”
“Because your soul is bound to mine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The vampire sits up straighter, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Why are you still fighting the impossible? You felt our connection when you kissed me.”
“No, I…”
“You did!” Chris presses on, rising from his seat. “So willingly to kiss me too. And not out of fear.”
“That’s not true!”
His head tilts to the side, gaze holding yours. “Then why does it linger? Why do you dream of it? If not because you were made for me?”
Your lack of a response betrays you. Despite Lucy’s death being fresh in your mind, you still focus on the flashbacks. Chris tapped in but refused to influence. He wanted you to experience everything, from the fragments of your time together to the feelings that blossomed in your past life. Your dreams this last week did more work than Chris could have wished for. Now even though you are awake now, the strange, aching familiarity is back, and you can’t explain it away.
“It is waking,” Chris says more to himself than you. “Piece by piece. Just as I knew it would.”
“What is?”
“Who you were,” he said simply, now sauntering around the side of the desk to close the distance between you. “Before this small, borrowed life. Before time buried you away from me.”
“No!” You shook your head, backing away. Again, it was a cat-and-mouse game; you wanted to keep him an arm’s length away. “No, you don’t get to twist this into some fantasy to excuse what you’ve done.”
“Excuse?” he repeated, somewhat amused. “I have no need to excuse myself.”
Your anger flared again at the smirk that appeared on his face. “Then answer me this question: if you love me, if any of these feelings are real, then why would you hurt me like this?”
Those words made him pause. Not out of guilt. He does not feel guilt for his actions. Not for you or the casualty of Lucy. Certainly not for what he did to Hyunjin. He took the moment to consider how he wanted to respond. There is a piece of this puzzle that he hid from you. When he mentally agreed to not hurt you, the plan was to protect you the best he could. However, he broke that promise last night. Yes, because he lost control and will make up for it over as many lifetimes as he needs to. Though, how far would he go with this hurt he brings you? Should he reveal everything he learned during his time in London? He could either protect your image of Hyunjin or he could shatter it.
“Hurt you,” he whispered. “Or reveal the truth?”
Chris walked back to the desk. He reached for a leather-bound sketchbook he found the night he entered your apartment. He had no plan on snooping through Hyunjin’s belongings. Though seeing how much effort Hyunjin went to hide it only made him curious. He was unaware of how damning it would be. Now Chris extends his hand out to you, offering you to take it.
Cautiously, you walk up, expecting some sort of trap. Chris motions for you to continue, a scowl etched on his face. He can no longer look you in the eye. The plan was to keep the sketchbook as evidence to incriminate Hyunjin. There was no reason for you to ever see it.
Your hand reaches for the lacing of the sketchbook, slowly unknotting the loose leather straps. Every so carefully, you peel back the cover, revealing Hyunjin’s name and date inscribed in his handwriting. Then there are the pages of art that follow.
Chris bites his tongue when he hears your breath catch. Soft sobbing follows with each page turn. He was surprised when he scanned through. Every single page held different pieces of Lucy. It started out so harmlessly, so innocently. A few of the sketches were of her face, showcasing different expressions. Then Hyunjin’s restraint slipped, leading to riskier posed drawings with less clothing. The final few pages of the drawings were of her body, completely bare, in the middle of numerous sexual acts.
These were fantasies of a man in love, and not with you.
The vampire finally turns his gaze to you when you reach the end. A folded piece of paper rests on the final drawing. With shaky fingers, you examine the letter. There, in Lucy’s handwriting, was something never spoken to you. Lucy was refusing Hyunjin’s advances, stating she was in love with Arthur and how dare he risk losing you. You were a prize to be earned, and he’s lucky she didn’t reveal the truth.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Chris says, taking slow steps toward you. “You were never his. Not in the way you imagined.”
“A second choice,” you say softly, yet there is bitterness in your words. “No doubt so he could stay close to her.”
Tears continue to run down your cheeks. Your fingers tremble while folding the letter back up and closing the sketchbook. The news is a lot to take in, Chris knows, but now it’s all in the open. Perhaps this letter seals the deal for you. Hyunjin is now a monster that matches the one inside of him.
“Hyunjin,” Chris spoke up, almost idly, as though discussing something trivial. “He was always weaker than you believed. I gave him the fate he deserved.”
“And Lucy?”
Chris watches your jaw tighten. Anger radiates off you with the heat of the sun.
Lucy was nothing more than a casualty. A consequence of Hyunjin's. Lucy was mortal, and mortals can break. Did he expect Hyunjin to drain her dry? Yes, though he doesn’t have to reveal that to you.
“You have lost everything tonight,” Chris says while reaching for the sketchbook. He tosses it to the side so he can grasp your trembling hands. The touch is gentle, but his words are not. “The man you trusted has become something else. Your friend stands at the edge of death, and yet, instead of getting her help, you came to me.”
“For answers.”
“For me,” Chris corrects. Your teary eyes meet his, and the fight you mustered up is a crumbling sandcastle. He runs his thumbs over your knuckles as a form of comfort. It used to work when you were nervous. Hopefully, it helps you now. If not, then maybe his offer will. “My beautiful bride, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. If you would allow me, I can show you the memories plaguing you are real.”
“Christopher…”
His chest aches at how fragile your voice sounds. He needs to do something to help you. “Let me awaken you. It’ll take the pain away.”
Gears are shifting in your head. What other choice do you have? Your best friend is dead, and the man you loved is a monster who killed her. Now this magnetic force bringing you to Chris is too powerful to fight anymore. Cave, and accept peace.
This will be your decision.
Fresh tears well up along your lash line. “Do you promise to make all the pain go away?”
“I have never lied to you. Not in your last life nor this one.”
Chris pulls on your hands to draw you closer. You don’t resist, not even when he encourages you to place your hands on his clothed chest. One hand finds your chin, tilting your head to the side. There is such beauty in your submission. It’s a blind trust being given to him. It’s almost reminiscent of a person’s faith. You are putty in his hold. Now he gets to play God and create you in his image. You will be reborn with the same gift of immortality. Chris had hundreds of dreams about turning you, and now the grand moment is upon him.
Using his other hand, he brushes your hair away to expose the expanse of your neck. Your pulse pounds under the skin, calling out to him. The vampire leans down to where the pulse strikes strongest. There is a faint hint of floral perfume still lingering on your skin. It almost reminds him of summers back home. Soon, Chris thinks to himself. He can bring you home once he turns you.
He’s gentle when piercing the skin; he’s not here to feed or to kill. He needs to drain enough to allow his blood to take over your bloodstream and begin your transformation. Though every one of your soft whimpers right in his ear causes his dick to twitch in interest. Now isn’t the time to get riled up, but he won’t forget how beautiful of a sound it is.
Chris retracts his fangs when he feels you grow limp in his hold. Your heartbeat has slowed as you dance on a fragile edge of consciousness. While adjusting his hold on you, he brings a wrist to his mouth. He bites deep into his flesh to create a wound that won’t heal right away. When he’s satisfied, he brings the welling-up blood to your lips. “Drink, beloved. Your pain is almost over.”
There is no resistance. He lets the blood spill past your lips and into your system. Gradually your strength returns with greed. The vampire’s blood is addictive as it works through your body. The clingy hands gripping his shirt move to his wrist to keep him against your lips. Your blunt human teeth dig into his wounds, trying to urge more blood out. Chris can’t help his satisfied smile. He’s proud of your eagerness, and he will give you as much as your heart desires.
With you being sired to him, he can alter your human memories. He will remove the pain of Lucy. He will change your harsh reality of Hyunjin’s fate. A peace offering for what you endured tonight because he couldn’t control his anger. You will leave this country thinking the two are alive and well. The truth will never reach you. By the time you are fully transformed, the only two thoughts will be your hunger for fresh blood and your maker.
How things should be.
For the first time in centuries, the castle is a home again. The grand chamber is growing warmer with the wood that burns in the fireplace. Chris takes his time lighting the candles throughout the room. Shadows dance across the stone walls as the flames flicker. You sway in the middle of the room, your eyes shut, lost in the haze of the playing music.
Your voice comes from the middle of the room; a hint of annoyance is present. “Can I finally have my king?”
Chris keeps his back to you, shaking the match in his hand to extinguish the flame. “Forgive me for wanting you to be comfortable. I thought you loved romance.”
“And I’m waiting to experience that so-called love.”
“Oh beloved, I’m about to worship you.” He answers, spinning on his heel to face you. He can’t stop the smirk from forming on his lips as the frustration grows within you. To you, he wasn’t going fast enough. He could have used his powers and lit the candles in one flick. Perhaps that’s where he is selfish. After all this time, he wants to take this moment to appreciate you being back with him.
With the match discarded, Chris saunters over to you. There is no heartbeat pounding in your chest, yet the way your body tenses speaks volumes. The anticipation is consuming you. He has barely touched on the journey home. Only safe, comforting touches of reassurance. It was a challenge for him, though he didn’t want to overwhelm you. You were already processing plenty of information when he awakened your memories by gifting you immortality. You might as well have a new body with your heightened senses. It seemed unjust to not give you an adjustment period.
Chris reaches for the laces on the front of your gown. His fingers delicately worked to pull each free one by one. The only noise in the room was the fabric rustling as he guided your dress off your shoulders. You shivered, either from the cool air in the room or in excitement; Chris isn’t sure. He murmurs to himself when letting the dress pool at your feet. “My bride, more beautiful than ever.”
The thin slip you wore underneath is sheer, leaving little to the imagination as his gaze roams your body. You were created precisely as you were in your previous existence. The freckles on your shoulders, the curve of your breasts, the dip in your waist, and the soft mound between your thighs were all the same. He stepped closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a feather-light kiss before trailing down to capture your mouth. You melted into him, savoring the full, velvety press of those lips you adored, the kiss deepening as his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours.
With a gentle push, he guided you backward toward the massive four-poster bed. The satin midnight-black linens were the perfect backdrop for your body. His hands found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly over your head, exposing your naked form to the air of the castle. Your nipples hardened instantly from the lingering chill and his gaze, making them peak into tight buds. Chris couldn’t fight his desire any longer. He nearly tore the fabric of his shirt when he shed it off, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. His trousers followed; his cock, already thickening, stood proud against his thigh.
Finally, free from all clothing, he lowered you onto the bed. The mattress yielded softly beneath you as you lay back. Your eyes never left his, watching how he knelt between your legs, his hands sliding up the sides of your body to cup your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples, teasing the buds until your back arched and a gasp escaped your lips. The touch was surely fire and silk, with your vampire senses turning each flick and pinch into waves of pleasure that bordered on overwhelming.
Chris may as well be having you for the first time again. Four hundred years ago you rested in this bed a virgin for him to adore, and he gets to do it again. How can he not milk this opportunity? It’s been years since he’s had you beneath him. His cock throbs painfully between his legs, but he still fights self-restraint. There is a correct way to go about this all, and you will experience it.
Leaning down, Chris takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, just to test your sensitivity. Your fingers thread into his dark curls, pulling him closer as he lavishes attention on your breasts. He alternates between sucking, licking, and nipping with just enough pressure to make you moan. Then he switches to the other, giving it the same devoted treatment, his plush lips sealing around the supple flesh until your body is trembling.
His eyes met yours again as he trails kisses down your soft stomach. Your thighs part wider around him, allowing his broad frame to settle between them. You bit your bottom lip as he lowered his head. If he were cruel, he would force you to speak about all that you wanted. Drive that tension to a new height. Instead, he stayed merciful this time, allowing his lips to brush against an inner thigh. He trails kisses down the skin towards the slick folds of your pussy. You were already dripping for him. He could smell your arousal the second you rose for the night. You had wanted him then and there when the coffin opened, and Chris almost caved. He knew it was better to take you here after you were fed and settled in this bed.
You cried out when his tongue dragged between your folds to tease your clit. That remaining self-restraint shattered with the taste of you. These pent-up emotions inside him were a different hunger than what he was used to. He eagerly teased your clit to see if you still liked what you did in your past life. Your hips bucked when his lips sealed to suck on your clit. Every jolt of pleasure appeared to be a powerful ocean wave crashing against the rocks in the way you squirmed. Those new senses amplified every lap and suck from him, intensifying the pressure in your core. It wouldn’t take much from him to send you over the edge.
He needed to; he was craving it.
The only sound he wanted to hear was your screams of pleasure bouncing off the walls. He maintained his gaze, his dark eyes burning with his devotion as he worked one finger inside you. Then eventually he progressed to two, curling to stroke that spot he knew so well from before.
“Oh, Christopher,” you whispered, your voice breaking as climax neared. He hummed against you, and the vibration pushed you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, juices flooding his mouth as you came, shuddering beneath him.
Chris rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was now fully erect, and the tip was glistening. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock along your soaked slit. He waited until your eyes locked once more. Only then did he push slowly, inch by inch, until you were filled completely.
“You were made only for me, beloved,” Chris groans out. “Can you feel how perfect we are?”
“Yes,” you gasped at the stretch, the walls of your pussy clinging to him, not wanting him to move. He couldn’t fight the confidence coursing through him at your words about feeling every ridge and vein lining him. “I feel all of you… so deeply.”
Deliciously delirious is what he used to think when you were under him, lost in the throes of pleasure. He could drive any thoughts from your mind. All that existed to you was him. Tonight would be no exception.
Chris began to thrust, gentle at first, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. Both of your hands reached for his face, bringing him closer to you. He followed, adjusting his stance, resting his arms by your head. Whatever you craved, he would give it to you. If you don’t want softness and gentleness right now, then fine. He would unleash his true hunger.
You are his princess, his wife, and his eternal love.
The only one on this earth who gets to rule him completely. He is nothing more than a servant to this body of yours. Nothing brings him more satisfaction than knowing you are indulging your pleasure how you want.
Your lips connected once more to his plush lips. There was so much aggression in your kiss. He could barely keep up as his tongue mingled with yours. His pace quickened, the thrusts growing firmer, hitting deep inside you with each stroke. Your hands traveled, finding any expanse of skin to drag your sharp nails into, some sort of grounding, too overwhelmed by how your body accepted every plunge of his cock. It didn’t take much for this exquisite torture to build your pleasure once more.
You broke the kiss to speak against his lips. “I love you, Christopher.”
“Forever, beloved?” He groaned out, his control fraying. There was raw love in your eyes as he fucked you. Words remained trapped in your throat as your entire body tensed. You could only nod as one of his powerful thrusts triggered another orgasm. Chris felt his limbs tremble with the way your pussy tried to milk a release from his cock. Only you could make this powerful creature weak.
“Yes, my king.” You gasped out as the high fizzled out. Chris could see the way the newly formed fangs elongate. Your body couldn’t control all the pleasure inside you. “My love for you will never die.”
Chris curses to himself, forcing himself to continue. Just as his affliction to blood kept him sustained, he must have more of you now. Even though you were real, under him and enjoying him, he couldn’t stop himself. You two would spend lifetimes together, but in this moment he craved making up for the time apart.
What a beautiful goddess you are, he thinks to himself. God couldn’t take you from him now. Not with the gift of immortality he gave you. He still wouldn’t forgive God. No, you are the one mortal sin he will never repent for.
⤷ WC - 1.8k
⤷ Established Relationship
⤷ CW - Use of video camera, Oral sex (f. rec), Unprotected sex, slight overstim, use of daddy, joke about getting jumped
⤷ You and Jeongin's first sex tape
→ Masterlist
The blinking is taunting. Red and too bright for your nervous eyes. You straighten up, Jeongin adjusts the camera just right.
“Is it on?” he hums, looks back once before sitting, then locks in on you. “This is…”
“You're going to say it's silly.” he's got you there. You purse your lips to the side, your pout documented for your later regret. “What did we say, huh?”
You take a breath, a long exhale through your nose. “If we hate it, we trash it.”
“Mhm, this isn't silly,” he reaches for you, hands gentle on your shoulders and guiding you to lean back between his legs, back against his chest. “This is just something couples do sometimes.”
You settle, blush, look away. “It feels like we're being watched.” the two of you share a laugh, you glance at the camera and his eyes stay on you. He prompts your gaze with a single touch to your chin, gentle enough for you to miss.
“Future me is watching you be very cute,” he leans in, lips brushing yours. “and future you will be so happy we tried this.”
“Think so?” you whisper back, smiling despite yourself.
“Oh, absolutely.” he seals it, the softest thing you've ever felt. You swear it's laced, too sweet and never enough. You press in for more, the pressure builds easily. Jeongin’s hand comes up, cups your cheek, the other hand rubs small, gentle circles into your hip. Grounding you to him, the moment.
He pulls back just a touch, large, gentle hands guiding you to turn into him. “Relax for me.” his lips are back on yours before you settle. Warm gold spills in between the blinds and frames the two of you just right. His hands slip up your back, yours on his shoulders, your spine bows into his touch. All gold, all perfect.
Jeongin pushes up, hips pressing into you and you squeak, an unforgiving noise that he's glad got caught on film. He laughs, light and breathy, then breaks the kiss enough to catch your blush. “Cute.” he murmurs, lips trailing lazily over the corner of your mouth, down the line of your jaw, your neck, “do it again.”
He shifts his weight, gets his legs under him, then lays you down. His body covers yours easily, palm planted by your head, hips pressed where you're spread for him. It's annoying how easily he makes you forget. How simple it is to just exist beneath him when his tongue licks into your mouth just right.
He groans and it's unfair. You buck up and meet his hips, he's straining like you've never felt him before. So hard it has to be angry and weeping. He pushes your shirt up, fabric pooling under your chest, then over. The silly excuse of a bra you have on isn't leaving much to the imagination, his favorite.
“Look at that.” His breath is shaky, lips wet with you. “my pretty girl.” Every kiss that trails down the side of your neck is slow, sloppy, wet. Jeongin moans when your nails dig into his biceps, bracing yourself against the itch under your skin.
“Innie.” You arch into his touch, he palms your breasts, one then the other then back again. Soft then firm enough to make you whine. His lips drag over the tops, teasing your hot skin where your chest spills over.
“Shh, shh.” Your shirt gets pushed up more and more until it's nearly off, just over your eyes. “Hands stay up. Keep em’ there for me.”
You lace your fingers, keep your arms up. Jeongin presses himself hard against your cunt, wet on wet with too much in the way. His lips trail down down down, over your chest and ignoring the aching pull of your nipples. You whine, he ignores that too. His attention turns to marking your stomach, sucking love bites into the plush flesh all the way down until the waistband of your sweats gets in the way.
Jeongin sits up, all the way up on his knees. For a moment he only looks, admires, licks his lips like he can't wait to eat. Then he touches. He palms your breasts again, rolling your nipples between his fingers one at a time. Then over your sides, slow and tracing.
“Might be a short tape,” he teases, fingers hooking into your waistband and pulling down slowly. Too slowly. “You're too much.” He gets impatient when he gets to your knees, the sweats come right off, discarded fast.
“Too good,” you hear the shift, feel it too. More fabric hitting the floor, the couch cushions dipping. “So pretty.”
“ah–” he pulls you closer by your thighs, leans in, you feel the hot sweep of his exhale.
“what am I even saying?” his voice turns quiet, calmer, drowsy with something that's drawing him closer. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nose dragging over the flesh. “you make me crazy, you know that?”
He kisses your clit, just a kiss. You squirm and he slaps the outside of your thigh. Not hard enough to sting, just enough to warn. He kisses again, you move again, slap.
“Please, please, please.” You're hot. Actually hot to the touch, skin buzzing and toes curling with a feeling bigger than your body can handle. Jeongin sees it, loves it.
“What's that?” His thumb comes up and moves over you so so slowly, slow enough to make you chase it. His tongue, flat and wet, licks up from your hole and flat against your clit. “Mm, this what you're begging for?”
You don't get to answer, cause he can't wait anymore. His hold on your thighs turns brutal, strong. He licks again and again, each turn sloppier than the last. His lips close around your clit, sucking, tongue flicking.
You groan, mumble words that aren't real and fight to keep your arms up. Your shirt is just barely covering your eyes, you don't care. Every breath is a moan, then you forget to take a breath and choke on a sound that makes him bury his face deeper, chasing it again and again.
“Fuck, fuck–” you come on his face, no warning, just warm and wet and so so welcome. Jeongin laps it up, sucking and slurping like this is the last he'll ever have you. Your hips buck harder, or try to. “so much, so much, too–Innie!”
You squeak, then moan, overstimulated in that way that tickles your spine. Jeongin pulls back like he has all the time in the world. Kissing your inner thighs, your knees, then back.
“That's it, took it so well.” his thumb teases again, slow and soft but every brush feels electric. “gonna do it again for me, baby?”
The cushions dip, he lets go and the absence feels foreign. You don't whine, don't have the breath to. “Gonna come on me? You can do that for me, right?”
He presses in before you can say a word, slow and such a good stretch that you grab at the air just to steady yourself. Jeongin leans in, uncovers your eyes and holds your chin. He's still slipping in, pulling back for a second just to slip in again.
“You deserve this. Let me hear you say it, baby.” you try, stutter, then try again.
“I deserve this.” It's strained but it's enough.
Jeongin smiles, actually smiles in your face, leaning in closer to kiss you as he finally bottoms out. You clench around him and he moans, loud, unfiltered.
“Fits so good. I fit in here so perfectly.” He pulls back just barely, shallow thrusts. “Thank you.” He kisses you again, deeper.
“You're gonna ruin me.” Then he picks up. Every push and pull gets faster, harder, he stays at that pace for a while. Then he switches, slows down just enough to let you feel him nice and deep. “Gonna gimme another, gonna gimme your come.”
You gasp then damn near forget to breathe. It's too much, too good to try and do anything but feel it. The camera—that you have clearly forgotten about—catches it all. The way you grip the couch cushions, the way Jeongin grabs your hips to angle you and the way you try to say something, anything, but just end up saying—
“Daddy ah, d–daddy.” That alone could drive him mad. His thrusts turn slower, deeper, hitting something just right. “Oh, oh, Innie–In–daddy.”
“That's it, thaaat's it. You're gonna come for me again, okay, baby?” you don't have the breath to object, you'd never dream of it anyway. Your nerves are on fire, toes curled and digging into the cushions until he pushes your knees back a little further.
Jeongin's head falls forward, hair a damp mess and he moans. Mouth open, eyebrows pulled together and hips stuttering. That's what does it. That's what gets you squeezing and wetting his cock. It pulls another sound out of him, hands braced on your waist while he watches you come undone beneath him. Because of him.
“That's right. That's so fucking pretty.” he pulls out, sudden and missed immediately. He slaps himself over you and the sound it makes is a sin. He groans, you buck and moan. “Daddy's good girl, yeah? Right?”
Then he's back in. Faster, deeper, or at least it feels that way. You're both breathing hard, too hard to focus, too hard for words. He leans in and kisses you, sloppy and breaking with every thrust but it's something.
“Oh, ‘m gonna come.” He's loud now, moaning again and again and again until he meets you where you're at. He nearly collapses above you, his eyes squeezed shut and he pulls out before he can finish just so you can feel it on your skin.
Your breathing is messy but somehow in sync. Heavy, hard, satisfied. The camera is still rolling, no one rushes to turn it off. You just make room and Jeongin slips in beside you.
“Is the sun setting?” He asks, opening his eyes enough to glance at the fading gold. “It wasn't even that long.”
“Long enough.” You mutter, turning into him, face snuggled into his chest. He’s sweaty, you don't care. “I'm not gonna be able to feel a thing tomorrow.”
“Call out.” He kisses your hairline, sweaty, doesn't care, he kisses again. “I'll call out too.”
“Mm, what's the excuse?” You glance up at him and he looks down at you, serious as he can be.
“You got jumped, might even get jumped again.” you snort against his chest, settling back against him. “Fought hard but just can't win.”
“You're ridiculous.” You look back up and he kisses you, perfect.
“Got it all on tape too.” He murmurs against your lips. You laugh, roll your eyes.
“Shut up.” He kisses you again.
“It's proof.”
❥Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕
summary: on the side of a sunburnt los angeles road, you with a broken down car meet a man you can't stop thinking about. he's older, composed, impossibly charming, and far too experienced to be looking at you the way he does. you're used to immature love that never knew how to hold you properly. but with him, everything is different.
themes: age gap (reader is 24, namjoon is 33), los angeles in the 2000s, smut, fluff, famous producer x non!celebrity reader, reader doesn't know who he is, confident joon yum, mainly readers pov w/ brief joon's pov, he's whipped, brief texting, tension, established relationship, strangers to lovers, teasing, they go on dates, joon is a gentleman, relationship building, joon is so dom and a lil possessive, nicknames, porn with lots of plot, eventual love confession
warnings: sexual themes, explicit & descriptive smut MINORS DNI 18+ (hard dom! joon omffghdj, slight age kink & size kink, slightly semi-public sex(?? in his studio :3), unprotected sex, soo much praise/dirty talk, edging/teasing, fingering, oral f, cowgirl, missionary, slight choking if u squint, creampie)
word count: 18k.. whoops
inspired by arirang joon because he's just too fine
♬ ₊˚. street thing - aaliyah
it was a late, blazing july afternoon with the kind of california heat that sticks to everything.
your beater car had just given up on you in the worst possible place it could—pulled over on the stretch of a busy road with no shade, just heat shimmering off the black asphalt and distant palm trees that don't feel helpful at all.
you already tried the obvious things. ignition, gas, trying it all again like it might change something.
it never did.
you leaned back against the passenger door of your car letting out a frustrated breath, hair sticking to your neck as you watched cars pass by with the soft sound of your hazards blinking in the background.
of course it's today. of course it's here.
that was when you suddenly heard the low hum of an engine slow down beside you. a sleek, black bmw—expensive, but not loud about it. it pulled in front of your car, and for a second you think the car is just stopping briefly.
that was before the driver door opened.
he steps out like he’s not in a rush to be anywhere else.
tall—noticeably so, he moves towards you easily, like he’s used to taking up space without ever forcing it.
sunglasses sit low on his nose, shielding his eyes, but not enough to hide the way his attention lands exactly on you. his shirt is simple—lightweight, slightly open at the collar, sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms. nothing flashy.
but it fits him too well. everything about him does.
dark jeans, clean shoes, watch on his wrist that you can't recognize but can tell is expensive. you notice all of him in the mere seconds he takes to walk over to you, the feeling hitting you all at once.
dear god, he was fine. the kind that made you straighten up a little bit without realizing; running a quick hand through your hair and fixing your jewelry.
he walks toward the front of your car, unhurried, one hand sliding briefly into his pocket before resting against the hood of your car.
up close, it’s worse.
sharper features than you expected. clean, but not overly polished. there’s something slightly worn in about him—like experience and maturity that sits on him well.
“everything alright?” he asks, voice is low and steady.
you blink for a second longer than necessary before responding. why does he look like that... helping me with my car?
"uh-" you stammer before clearing your throat. "it's- it's dead."
"yeah..." he says, eyes examining your car closer. "i can see that."
you nod and suddenly there's a pause, small but noticeable.
he comes around the side of your car, closing the distance between you to look inside of the window. you fumble while taking a few steps back as he looks at your dashboard then back at you, suddenly flustered by his presence.
"you got jumper cables?" he asks.
you simply shook your head.
"didn't think so," he says simply.
he walks back to his car, and you stand there feeling so helpless in the hot sun as he turns his car around to face yours in a swift manner, opening the door casually before coming around to his trunk like he's done this plenty of times.
when he comes back with the cables, he quickly slides his sunglasses in a way you almost miss a glimpse of his whole face.
you assumed it was because of the sun. but little did you know, it wasn't.
because before he walked back to his car, he had looked at you a little too closely. it wasn't some polite, quick glance. it was one that lasted a second too long.
he noticed everything about you.
the way your top fits—not overly revealing, but just enough to catch his attention without trying. the fabric light, slightly clinging from the heat. your skirt—shorter than it probably needed to be, riding just a little higher from the way you shifted against your car door.
his gaze dropped, brief, controlled—then came back up. your legs, your hands, the thin bracelet at your wrist. rings that don’t match perfectly but somehow work. jewelry that feels personal to you.
he takes note of that. of course he does.
then, your face. slightly flush from the heat, skin warm toned and sun-kissed. there's something effortless about you, like you spent more time living in the sun than hiding from it.
your expression—somewhere between annoyed and trying not to be. and your eyes, focused on him, but not softened. not entirely impressed by him, but more appreciative.
and when he closed his trunk, he forgets to look away. so he pulls his sunglasses back over, quick and casual. like it's nothing.
and not because of the sunlight, but because he was looking at you a little too openly. and he knew it.
he arrives at your car and connects everything smoothly, no hesitation and big hands steady. it was unfairly attractive.
“so,” he says, glancing up while he works, “you live out here or just enjoying the scenic breakdown experience?”
a smile pulls at your mouth despite yourself. “neither. i was just trying to get home.”
“mm.” he clicks something into place. “dangerous thing to try in LA.”
that gets a small laugh out of you, softer now and less defensive.
when the car finally sputters back to life, you visibly relax. he steps back, wiping his hands lightly. “there you go."
you should've just said thank you and left. but something in you doesn't act immediately. because now that the problem was gone, the silence between you two felt different now.
“so how do i… repay you?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.
he tilts his head slightly. "you don’t.” a beat passes. "just don't break down in the worst place possible next time."
you rolled your eyes a little, a smirk tugging at your lips. "no promises."
that earns a small smile from him. he steps back toward his car, then pauses like he’s deciding something.
“i’m—” he starts, then stops himself, like he’s choosing not to introduce himself the usual way. "i’ll see you around.”
"yeah... thank you."
and you watch him get back into his car, driving away and getting lost in the sea of los angeles traffic as you realized two things;
you didn't get his name, and you would likely never see him again.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
one week later
he's just getting off the phone when it happens.
“yeah, send it over tonight,” he says, already half-distracted. “i"ll listen then.”
a pause. “mm. yeah. i got it.” he ends the call before the other person finishes their last sentence.
he slips his phone into his pocket, stepping onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun hitting just right—warm, a little blinding, the kind of los angeles light that makes everything look softer than it is.
but he's not really paying attention at first.
he's thinking about work. about a track that still isn’t sitting right. about whether he even wants to go to the next session he has lined up.
and then—he sees you.
just down the block, wired headphones plugged into your ears as you walk towards a small coffee shop.
it takes him half a second too long for him to register it. he slows before stopping in his place on the scorching sidewalk just to be sure.
same walk. same unintentional confidence—like you're not trying to be noticed, which somehow makes you stand out more. your outfit catches his attention again without effort. something light, slightly different from the first time he saw you, but still you.
skirt again—of course. not the same one, but same idea.
he notices that. he notices everything.
you push the door open to the shop before disappearing inside. and for a second—he considers just letting you go, letting the roadside interaction stay that way, a one time street kind of thing that didn't need to turn into anything else.
he exhaled quietly before shaking his head, "yeah, no." he changed his direction subtly like he was always going that way.
by the time he reaches the door, he's already composed again. no rush or urgency in him, just the same steady stride he always carried around.
inside the cafe, it’s quieter than the street. low music, soft conversations, and the smell of coffee swirled in the air.
he scans the space once and it doesn't take long for him to find you, standing near the counter, slightly turned away, looking up at the menu like you're stuck deciding between the same two things.
he watches you for a second. not long, but enough. and suddenly, there's that feeling again rising up in his chest.
he steps into line behind you—close enough to matter, not close enough to be obvious. he lets the moment build naturally. of course he does. he lets you stay unaware just a second longer.
then, as you shift your weight and turn slightly back—he steps forward at the exact right time. light contact, your shoulder to his chest. just enough to capture your attention.
"oh, sorry—" you say automatically before looking up. it took a moment for you to process that the same, gorgeous man who jumped your car last week was the one currently blocking your vision.
he tilts his head slightly, like he’s just as surprised. “well,” he says, calm, almost amused, “this is becoming a pattern.”
you blinked. "you... helped me with my car."
"i did," he agrees. "and now apparently i'm following you around LA."
you narrow your eyes slightly. "are you?"
he puts a hand over his chest, mock offended but calm. “i prefer ‘running into you repeatedly by tragic coincidence.’”
that earns a laugh from you, the first real one between you. the barista calls you next in line, and he trails behind you like you're a couple ordering together. his presence alone makes your heart thump against your chest.
the barista takes your order and before you can even unzip your purse to pay, you already see a large hand coming from behind you, inserting a card in the machine.
the barista hands the man behind you the receipt and you turn around abruptly, tilting your head up to fully face him as you both drift away from the register. "i can pay for myself," you said.
"i know," he says simply.
"i was supposed to pay," you corrected as you picked up your freshly made coffee order.
"why?" he asked genuinely, tilting his head to match the angle of yours. it sent a light pink blush up your cheeks.
you look at him like the answer is obvious. "because you jumped my car."
his eyebrows pulled together. "that was like five minutes of my time."
you all but blinked, suddenly at a loss of words under the intense gaze of this mysterious, confident man.
he begins to walk towards a table and you follow him, still protesting under your breath. "that doesn't mean you get to—"
“get to what?” he glances back at you, sunglasses now off, and it’s worse without them in a way—more direct, more readable. more of his perfectly chiseled face exposed to you. “buy you coffee?”
you open your mouth, then close it. because the way he said it made it sound ridiculous to argue.
you both end up choosing a table by the window. endless blue, moving slowly under the late afternoon sun. a few people pass by on bikes, others walking along the sidewalk with iced coffees in hand, like time moves differently here.
not sat too close to him, not too far—just enough space that it could still be casual if either of you decided to pretend it was.
“so, what do you do?” you ask finally, wrapping your hands around the cup.
he leans back slightly in his chair. “music.”
“that’s vague.”
“it's intentional.”
you give him a look. “oh, so you’re mysterious.”
“i’m tired,” he corrects lightly, a smirk of amusement tugging at his lips. “there’s a difference.”
that makes you smile. “what, like a band?” you press.
“no,” he says. “behind the scenes.”
“oh.” you tilt your head. “like a manager?”
he pauses for a moment. "something like that."
it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. you nod like you accept that answer, but the curiosity doesn't go away.
“and you?” he asks.
you almost laugh. “i don’t do music.”
“didn’t say you did.”
“i mean…” you gesture vaguely. “nothing like that. i work. i live on the edge of LA where nothing interesting happens.”
his gaze holds on you a second longer than necessary. "that’s not true,” he says.
you frown slightly. “you don’t even know me.”
“i know you broke down on the side of a road in peak heat and didn’t immediately panic,” he says. “that tells me something.”
"like what?"
"that you're stubborn," he replies calmly.
you lean forward a little, eyes analyzing his expression. "that's not a compliment."
“it can be,” he says. “depends who it’s about.”
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you and him slip into easy conversation—half started stories, simple questions, the kind of conversation that doesn't feel like you're trying too hard.
you're mid-sentence, explaining something about where you live—how everything feels slower out there—when he interrupts you, but gently. “how old are you?”
you pause, caught off guard. “that’s random.”
“it’s relevant,” he says, like that should be obvious.
“to what?”
he lifts his cup slightly, studying you over the rim for a second before answering. “to how seriously i should be taking you.”
your eyebrows lift immediately. “excuse me?”
there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “i’m kidding,” he says, calm, unbothered. “mostly.”
you shake your head, trying not to smile. “twenty four.”
he nods once, like he expected that. “yeah,” he murmurs.
“yeah what?” you press.
“nothing,” he says, setting his cup down. “it makes sense.”
“that’s so annoying,” you say. “you don’t get to say that and not explain.”
“i just did.”
“no, you didn’t.”
he leans back slightly, relaxed, completely comfortable letting you be a little frustrated. “you carry yourself younger at times,” he says. “but not in a bad way.”
you narrow your eyes. “that still feels like an insult.”
“it’s not,” he says, softer now. “it’s honest.”
you look at him for a second longer than you mean to. “okay,” you say quietly. “then how old are you?”
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he tilts his head slightly, watching you like he’s deciding how much to give. “what do you think?” he asks.
you study him now, more deliberately. he doesn’t look older, not really. no obvious lines, no tiredness. and of course, he looks put together in a way most guys your age aren’t.
“twenty-seven,” you say finally. “maybe twenty-eight.”
he lets out a soft laugh—low, almost under his breath.
you frown immediately. “what?”
“nothing,” he says, shaking his head slightly with amusement.
“no, what?”
“you’re off,” he says.
“by how much?”
he pauses, then shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “enough.”
“that’s not an answer,” you says leaning forward closer now.
“it is,” he replies calmly. “just not one you like.”
you stare at him, half-annoyed, half-curious. “you’re not going to tell me?”
“not yet.”
your eyes narrow. “why?”
he meets your gaze fully this time. “because i want to see if it changes anything for you.”
you lean back slightly, thrown off in a way you don't show completely. “why would it?” you ask.
he shrugs after a small pause. he glances down at your cup. “you drink your coffee too slow, by the way.”
your mouth falls open a little as the moment quickly softens again. “oh my god.”
“just saying.”
“you’re unbelievable.”
“and you’re still here,” he points out lightly.
the conversation drifts again after that, easier now. you talk more without meaning to—little things, fragments of your life. he listens in a way that feels attentive, but not invasive. like he’s not collecting information, just understanding your pace.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you both drift toward the door without really deciding to. the conversation doesn’t end—it just slows, like both of you are aware it has to, eventually.
outside, the afternoon has softened. the heat isn’t as sharp anymore, but it’s still there, hanging in the air between you.
you shift your weight slightly, glancing down the street, then back at him. “this was…” you start, then stop, like you don't want to overdefine it. he watches you, gazed fixed on you patiently.
“unexpected,” you continue on.
he nods once. “yeah.”
“i still owe you,” you say.
he glances down at you. “you don’t.”
“i do.”
“you don’t,” he repeats, softer but final. but after a small beat, “if it makes you feel better, you can get the next one.”
you narrows your eyes. “there’s going to be a next one?”
he paused again, but only for a fraction of a second too long before he shrugged slightly like it was nothing. "if you break down again, i might start thinking it's planned."
you rolled your eyes, but a smile pulled helplessly at your lips. as you stepped out into the light of the sun, you realized two things at once. this man still hadn't told you who he is or his name, and that you somehow already agreed to see him again.
"let me see your phone," he said lowly, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes once again. it wasn't really a question.
and so you reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone, and without asking—he takes your hand gently, turning your palm slightly towards his. the faintest brush of his fingers sent an unexpected warmth up your arm in a way you couldn't ignore.
he picked up your phone that now seemed so small in his hands, typing something quickly before handing your phone back. you looked down at your screen, squinty slightly from the sun.
his name. a number.
joon 213-555-0010
when you look back up at him, he's already watching you—unreadable in a way that sent a pink flush throughout your cheeks.
"joon," you said, like you needed to say his name out loud. like you knew it was just a nickname.
he simply nodded, something small like a smile tugging at his lips from the sound of you hearing his name. "yeah."
he paused, low eyes peering above his sunglasses as he looked at you closely. "you gonna tell me yours?" he asked lowly, the baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.
so you told him, and he repeated it a few times under his breath like he had to let it sink on his tongue. "y/n," he said finally, voice quieter than usual. "pretty name for a pretty girl."
your eyes couldn't help but widely slightly at his bold words, the pink on your face turning into a deep red.
a small pause filled the air before you swallowed, trying your best to lock in your confidence in front of this man. "you didn't ask for my number," you said.
"i know."
"that's a little backwards."
"not really."
you titled your head. "why?"
he took a step back, giving you just a little more space. "because now it's your choice."
you study him for a second, like you're trying to figure out if this is some kind of game. some kind of reality tv show where they prank you with some hot mysterious man. but it didn't feel like one.
"and if i don't text you?" you ask.
a small pause before he shrugged easily. "then i'll assume you didn't want to." but his tone didn't have any pressure or persuasion in it.
"confident," you mutter.
"selective," he corrected.
you almost rolled your eyes—but you don't quite let it happen. he glances past you for a second, like he's remembering that he actually has somewhere to be. then, they quickly averted back to you.
"if you do," he continues, quieter now. "don't over think it."
you let a small laugh. "too late."
that earns a small smile from him, dimples tugging at his cheeks in a way you noticed immediately. "i figured."
another pause before he steps back swiftly, like he's deciding that he couldn't stay any longer than necessary—even if he wanted to. "i'll see you around," he says, for the second time.
before you can respond, he's already turning and stepping away, suddenly gone in the same effortless and casual way he arrived.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
that night, you tell yourself you're not going to think about him.
and you failed immediately.
you failed when you went to dinner with your friends, when you did chores around your house; in the shower and when you laid in your own bed that night—the bed that was supposed to make your thoughts go away. it was the small things at first.
the way he didn’t rush anything. the way he answered questions without really answering them. the way he looked at you like he already understood something you hadn’t said out loud yet.
and as the night continued on, the bigger things settled in your brain, making heat shamefully pool between your legs.
he didn't ask for your number. he didn't try to lock you in. instead, he just left his number with you.
who is he?
your phone sat next to you with the screen dark and off, but it felt louder than anything else in the room. you fell into a cycle of picking it up and putting it back down.
finally, you picked it up again, finding his contact. you flipped it shut, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought of messaging him. you found your thumbs typing, deleting, then typing something again.
you exhale softly, leaning back against your pillow trying your hardest not to overthink it, his voice replaying in the back of your head.
he wasn't some typical guy—you could tell in the way he carried himself. he walked casually, but with assurance. he dressed with stride, but still managed to blend in. he talked with confidence, and every line was coated with experience.
so now, it wasn't just about texting him. it's about what it would mean if you did. because somehow, after one roadside encounter and a cup of coffee—you already wanted more than you should have.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
namjoon's drive back was quiet. not because he wanted it to be—but because nothing else fit how he felt at the moment.
not even any of his music.
he had driven these streets thousands of times. the same turns, the same streets, the same palm trees. usually his mind is somewhere else entirely—work, mixes, deadlines, people who expect things from him.
but not tonight. because tonight, it kept circling back to you.
it all kept replaying in his head—the way you looked at him like you were trying to figure him out. he noticed the way you didn't try too hard. you didn't perform like everyone else in LA.
you didn't know what he is, who he is, or what kind of world he's involved in.
that was the part that was stuck in namjoon's head so deeply. because most people that meet him are already adjusted to him—already well aware, careful with their words and their tones, their intentions.
but you certainly weren't.
because you argued with him. you rolled your eyes and called him annoying. and you meant all of it.
a faint smile pulled at his mouth as he came to a stop at a red light. "twenty-seven," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and laughing slightly.
but still, you didn't hesitate.
he pulls into his place, kills the engine, but doesn’t get out right away. he glances at his phone, sitting in the center console of his car, dark and quiet.
but he doesn't reach for it. because namjoon was a patient man—he always had been. in work, in life, in everything that mattered.
once he gets inside his spacious, sleek home, he dropped his keys on the counter, running a hand through his hair, exhaling.
namjoon had been with plenty of women before. older, younger—in his world and outside of it. he always knows how it goes. he knows how to keep it light and uncomplicated.
but this didn't feel like that. because it felt like something that could get complicated. but instead of pushing it away like he normally would, he leaned into it. just a little.
an hour passes. then two.
namjoon tells himself he's not checking his phone. but it turns out to be a lie, because throughout night—he checks it without picking it up. glancing every time he walks past, like it might light up if he looks long enough. but it doesn't.
he tells himself to relax, that you have a life or that you might not be interested at all. but still—he wonders what you're up to. if you're thinking about him the way he's thinking about you. if you're overanalyzing that moment outside of the coffee shop.
suddenly, his phone buzzed. he doesn't look right away. he just looked at it before reading the unsaved number, no name attached. he picks it up and opens it almost immediately.
unknown: do you always leave girls with this much pressure or am i just special?
he lets out a quiet breath—half a laugh of amusement, half something else. there you finally were, exactly the way he had anticipated. he begins to type before he stops and quickly deletes it.
he leans back against the counter, thinking—not about what to say, but about how much he should give. because namjoon didn't want to rush this. he didn't want to come on too strong.
but he couldn't pretend that he was unaffected either, because he most certainly couldn't even if he wanted to. not with you.
he types again, this time sending it.
him: i was starting to think you wouldn't.
he watches the screen for a second longer than necessary, saving your contact before setting his phone down. it wasn't far, but it was just enough. because now, you know that he was waiting too.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you exhale softy, rolling onto your back with a smile that couldn't help but tug at your lips.
you: oh so you were waiting
a pause settled on the screen before the typing bubble popped up again.
joon: i was curious
you: that sounds like a more mysterious way of saying waiting
joon: you can call it whatever makes you feel better
and now, you definitely smiled at that. because he was already doing that thing again—side stepping without hesitation.
you: you're too difficult to read
joon: you're trying too hard then
you: i think you're just confusing
joon: only for you sweetheart
you actually laugh out loud at that, shaking your head and ignoring the way the nickname made pink tint your cheeks.
you: wow
so is this how you talk to every girl you buy coffee for?
his reply comes faster this time.
joon: i don't buy anyone coffee
you: good answer
joon: an honest one
what are you doing right now?
you glanced around your room like he could somehow see.
you: nothing important
joon: doesn’t sound convincing
you: i could say the same about you
joon: i’m working
you: doing your very mysterious job?
joon: still stuck on that?
you: a little
joon: you'll figure it out eventually
you bit your lip slightly, thinking of an answer.
you: you're very sure i'm going to stick around long enough to figure it out
joon: aren't you?
your heart does that annoying little jump again, and you don't answer right away. and he doesn't send anything else. instead, he waits. three minutes later;
you: maybe
joon: that's a start
another painfully long beat passes before your cellphone vibrates again.
joon: you busy tomorrow night?
you stare at the message, blinking twice to make sure you read it right. but somehow, half of you wasn't surprised. you were practically waiting in a way you couldn't admit. but the other half was incredibly in shock.
you started to type.. deleted it.. then typed again.
you: depends
what are you planning?
joon: something better than coffee
you smiled immediately, even though you tried not to.
you: that's a little confident
joon: doesn't seem like you hate it
you: i don't
joon: good
a pause settled on the screen again.
joon: 8?
you exhaled slowly, the reality creeping in as you stared at the screen. you were really going to go on a date with this man. the same, confident and attractive man that had jumped your car and saved your day. the same man who's age and job you couldn't quite detect.
you: okay
joon: i'll pick you up
don't overthink it
you rolled your eyes, smiling.
you: too late
joon: i know
and just like that, with one text conversation, it definitely was more than just a street thing.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you almost regret saying yes the moment you hear a car pull up outside, engine rumbling lowly outside your apartment window.
not because you didn't want to go, of course. but because now, it's real.
you check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing the bumps in your hair and coating your lips with gloss one last time. simple, but intentional. something that said you tried... but didn't try too hard.
your phone buzzed.
joon: i'm outside
when you step out, you see the car first. the same sleek and clean car that had pulled over in front of you on that busy highway engulfed in heat.
then him.
leaning slightly agains the driver's side door, towering over the car with his sleeves pushed up, looking like he's only been there for a minute—but completely settled anyway. he wore a costly-looking dress shirt, glimmering chain around his neck and a sparkling watch wrapped around his built arm. you swallowed hard.
his eyes flick up from the ground immediately when he notices you. and for a second, he just looks at you. completely, unashamedly taking you in with his eyes slowly.
"yeah..." he says lowly, dragging his lips ever so quickly along his lips as you approached him, heels clicking beneath you. "you're going to be a problem tonight."
you couldn't ignore the heat that sent down your spine, but you simply peered up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. "aren't i always?"
"i haven't seen you always," he replied.
you rolled your eyes, but a small smile pulled at your lips anyway. then, he stepped back, opening the door for you. you don't the miss the way he does it without hesitation. and when you sit inside, you don't miss the way his gaze burns into you before closing your door.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the drive was easy, music low in the background, city lights coming to life as the sun started to dip below the horizon.
namjoon doesn't fill every silence—and somehow it makes it easier for you to talk.
"so where are you taking me?" you ask eventually.
"you'll see," he says casually, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested between you.
"that's not helpful."
"it's not supposed to be."
you shook your head, smiling out the window. he pulls up to a restaurant that sits right by everything—the beach, the water, and the city. it was definitely upscale, but nothing intimidating.
inside, the lighting is warm yet dim, swift music playing and low conversations humming.
you were seated quickly. no waiting or confusion. you didn't quite realize the line of people who were standing for a table, and how you and him were able to breeze right past it.
when you arrive to your seat, it's right in front of the window, city lights and palm trees stretching on the glass in front of you. he pulls your seat out for you, helping you take off your coat and placing it along your chair.
after you place your orders, the conversation flows faster this time. less guarded, and more natural.
"so," he says, leaning back in his chair slightly. "what do you actually do?"
you sigh softly, like you already know the answer isn't impressive, even compared to his incredibly vague one. "i’m a waitress," you say. "nothing exciting."
he watches you for a second. "you keep saying that."
"because it's true."
"or because you think it's supposed to be."
that made you pause. "it's not exactly... impressive," you admitted.
he shrugs lightly. "most things that are don't matter."
you let out a small breath, like you didn’t expect that answer. “you always talk like that?” you ask.
“like what?”
“like you know something i don’t.”
a small smirk pulls at his mouth. “sometimes i do.”
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you and namjoon are laughing a few minutes later—about something small and stupid—and it feels easy. too easy.
the song currently playing comes to an end and the music shifts. a different song comes on—smooth, familiar, something that's even playing everywhere recently.
you perked up immediately. "oh my god, i love this song."
he stills ever so slightly. it's quick and barely noticeable, but there's a flicker of something across his face. he glances down at the table, then back up at you. "yeah?" he asks, casual.
"yeah," you nod, smiling. "it's so good."
he hums in response, leaning back in his seat like it's just background noise. "not bad."
you narrow your eyes slightly. "not bad?"
he shrugs. "it's alright."
you laugh. "you're impossible."
and he doesn't argue. but there's a faint smirk but he doesn't fully hide this time.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the dinner stretches longer than you expected. because neither of you seem to be in a rush to end it.
by the time the check comes, you reach for it instinctively. because at the cafe, he said he would let you get it this time.
but he's faster. of course he is.
"you don't have to—" you start.
"i know."
"that's not fair," you protest.
"it doesn't have to be," he said.
you sigh, but you're already smiling again.
as he hands the card over, the server pauses. "sorry," the server says, almost hesitant. "are you... are you—namjoon—"
namjoon already knows what's coming. he exhales softly, not annoyed at all, just used to it. "yeah," he says with a polite smile. you blinked.
"sorry- i thought so. i didn't want to assume."
he gives a small, reassuring nod.
"do you think i could-" the server gestures awkwardly. "just like, a quick autograph? my brother and i are huge fans."
you completely froze.
fan?
huge?
he doesn't make it a big deal. "yeah, no problem," he says, like it was normal. like this happens all the time. because it does.
he signs something quickly, hands it back with a polite smile.
"thank you—i appreciate it. you two have a great night," the server said before walking off.
silence settled between you for the brief a second. you were completely staring at him now, trying to control your facial expressions as you processed what just happened.
"you didn't tell me that happens to you," you said.
"i didn't think it mattered," he replied casually.
"well," you said slowly. "what exactly do you do?"
there it was. the question he definitely couldn't avoid this time. he leans back slightly, studying your expression. it was curious, but not intimidated or totally impressed. just curious.
"i told you," he said. "music."
you shook your head. "no, you said behind the scenes."
he huffed a small breath, close to a laugh before he paused. "i produce," he said finally. it was simple and direct—no bragging or boasting.
you blink again. "like... that song?"
a beat passes for a small moment before he nods once. "yeah."
and now, the air between you shifted. because now you knew; he wasn't just some guy who stopped to help you on the side of the road.
and somehow, it almost made things worse. because now, you had to figure out why he's here... with you.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the air outside feels cooler than before. or maybe it’s just because of the way everything shifted inside.
namjoon pushes the door open for you, stepping slightly to the side to let you walk out first—but as you pass, his hand settles lightly at the small of your back.
guiding. not grabbing or lingering too long. just there, resting on your back. it's subtle, but you can feel the intention seeping through you, especially in the way it instantly sends a shiver up your back.
your steps slow for half a second—not enough for him to comment on, but enough for you to notice yourself.
but he notices too.
you both walk a few steps in the parking lot in silence. it wasn't awkward, it was just both of you recollecting the entire night—including who he really was.
“so,” you say finally, glancing over at him, tone light like nothing’s changed, “you’re kind of a big deal, namjoon.”
he exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “no.”
“that guy literally asked you for an autograph.”
“that happens sometimes.”
you narrow your eyes. “that’s not normal.”
“it is for me,” he says simply. it wasn't cocky or defensive, just the honest truth. it should've been intimidating. but you didn't let it land that way.
you shrugged slightly. "okay. but that still doesn't mean i'm impressed."
there's a pause before he looks at you—really looks this time. and something shifts in his eyes, subtle but sharper. more interested and intrigued by the young woman standing before him.
"good," he said lowly.
you blinked. "good?"
“i’d be a little concerned if you were.”
your lips press together slightly, trying not to smile. “you’re unbelievable.”
“i’ve been told.”
you both reach his car, but neither of you move to get in right away. he leans back against it slightly, arms relaxed and eyes fixed on you.
you cross your arms again. not closed off, just grounding yourself under his gaze. "so you just... make songs people know?"
"sometimes," he said with a shrug.
"ugh, that's such a non-answer."
his lips fought a smile at your remark. "it's an accurate one."
you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. "you're so annoying."
"but you keep talking to me," he points out.
you finally glance up at him fully, and for a second, the eye contact lingers for a moment too long. it causes you to look away first, pink tinting your cheeks.
and namjoon notices everything.
the way you're holding eye contact a little less now. the way you're slightly more aware of yourself. the way you're trying not to let it change anything. but it doesn’t turn him off—it only pulls him in more.
“you got quiet,” he says.
“i didn’t.”
“you did.”
you look away for a second, then back at him. “i’m just thinking.”
“about?”
you hesitate. “nothing,” you say.
he tilts his head slightly, unconvinced—but he doesn’t push. instead, he steps a little closer. not enough to crowd you, but enough to spark the energy in the space between you even more.
“you’re doing that thing,” he comments quietly, eyes trailing up and down your figure.
your brows knit. “what thing?”
“trying to act like nothing changed.”
your stomach flips—annoyingly and immediate. “because nothing did,” you said.
a pause fills the air. he studies your face, like he’s deciding whether to call it out further. “alright,” he says finally.
you exhale softly. “you’re not going to say anything else?”
“i don’t need to.”
“that’s so—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head.
he watches you, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth now. “say it,” he murmurs.
you look at him, trying not to react to the way his voice dropped slightly. “it’s just… a lot,” you admit.
your answer was too honest for your liking, yet he didn't laugh or dismiss it. "yeah," he said quietly. "it can be."
a beat passed. "but i'm still the same guy you had coffee with," he said softly. and those words land, harder than anything else he's said.
you study him for a second, searching for something—ego, arrogance, anything that would make this easier to categorize.
but you don’t find it. instead, you're only able to find that same calm, steady version of him. the one who stopped his car for you. the one who let you decide whether to text him. the one who didn’t even bother to impress you.
“…okay,” you say finally. and you mean it.
there was a small shift in the air between you, the tension softening— but not totally disappearing.
“so,” he says, pushing off the car slightly, “you still letting me drive you home?”
you raise an eyebrow. “do i have a choice?”
“you always have a choice,” he said. a beat passes. "but i’d prefer if you said yes," he confessed playfully.
you huffs out a quiet laugh. “you’re very subtle.”
“i try.”
and for the second time that night, namjoon opens the passenger door for you. and this time, when you got in, it felt different; reality swirling around you and settling into your head.
the drive back was quieter than the one there. it wasn't awkward or empty—just filled with unspoken words and incredibly thick tension.
his gaze was fixed on the road, but you couldn't ignore the way you caught him glancing over at you multiple times in the corner of your eye. the music is low, humming softly through the speakers before another song comes on.
you glance over at the console, then over at him. "did you make this one too?" you ask, half teasing.
he doesn't look at you right away, a smirk pulling at his lips, leaving a sharp shadow along his jaw. "maybe."
you roll your eyes, fully smiling now. "you're never going to give me a straight answer, are you?"
"not all at once, pretty girl."
there it is again. not just the nickname that sent heat through your spine and in between your legs—but that confident, indirect promise of you sticking around long enough to unlock every thing about him.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you're looking out the window, surrounded by the kind of silence that makes everything feel more noticeable. but you're not really seeing or looking at anything, because you're too aware.
too aware of namjoon. the way he drives—one veiny hand on the wheel, relaxed but precise. the way the scent of his expensive cologne and shampoo made your knees weaken. the way he continues to glance over every now and then, quick, like he’s checking something without making it obvious.
you shift slightly in your seat every time he does.
suddenly, his hand moves from the wheel for just a second—resting briefly against the center console as he adjusts his grip. but through that movement, his large fingers brush lightly against your thigh.
he dragged them ever so softly on your thigh for what felt like forever—but only lasted two seconds—before moving his hand back to the center console. his fingers were barely there, not lingering or deliberate enough to call out. but it wasn't exactly accidental enough to ignore either.
your breath catches for just a second, but he doesn't react or apologize. he doesn't even look at you, and somehow that makes it worse.
you swallow hard, turning your head slightly towards the window again. but now you're even more hyper-aware of the space between you. your heart was doing something very annoying again, and you knew it.
he knew it.
he slows the car as you reach your place, parking smoothly before killing the engine. and just like that, everything went still.
neither of you moved right away. you looked down at your hands, then back up like you were about to say something. but you didn't.
he simply watches you for a second, less teasing in his eyes and more focus. he took in every inch of you, sitting so still and pretty in his car. looking at him like he was still the same guy who jumped your car, not like he was a guy who made every hit song. "you got quiet again," he says softly.
you let out a small breath. "you keep saying that."
"because you keep doing it."
you glance at him. this time, you don't look away immediately. "i'm just thinking."
"dangerous," he murmurs, pulling a small smile from you.
you reach for the door handle. "thanks for dinner," you say, like you're trying to keep it normal.
"yeah," he replies with a soft smile.
you open the door, stepping out thinking that the night is wrapped up. that he'll pull away and let you go. but then, you hear his door open too.
he rounds the front of the car, meeting you halfway up the short path to your door. he took his time not rushing—because he never did.
when you stop in front of your door, you turn to face him. and suddenly, it's close. closer than it's been all night. there wasn't a table, a center console, or any distractions now. just him, towering over you and filling your entire vision with nothing but him. his musky cologne quickly filled your nostrils, throwing your mind off balance.
"you don't have to walk me up," you say quietly, close to a whisper.
"i know," he says. but he doesn't step back.
a long pause fills the air, stretching long enough for the tension to feel intentional. his gaze drops briefly, to your lips—then back up to your eyes.
your breath catches again, softer now. but you were too close for namjoon to not notice it. "are you always this—" you start, then stop.
"this what?" he asks lowly, clenching his jaw ever so slightly at the mere sight of you fumbling with your words in front of him.
you shake your head slightly. "i don't even know."
a faint smile pulls at his mouth. "good." he took another step closer, not enough to trap you, but enough for the warmth of his body to wrap around you.
then, his hand lifts, hesitating for half a second before gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he does it carefully, like he was giving you all the time in the world to pull away. but you didn't.
"you're overthinking again," he murmurs, low eyes scanning every inch of your face.
your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "you keep saying that like it helps."
"it does," he suggests casually.
"how?"
he leans in barely. he doesn't completely close the distance between you, but it was enough to send a bolt of warmth down your body. "because you're still here."
you tilt your head up just a little, before he leans in just a sliver more. and for a second, the moment is right there, sitting heavy in the little distance there was between you.
and then, he stops. just barely, coming to a small still when you could practically feel his breath on you. just enough that it didn't happen.
your eyes flicker across his face, confused, a little breathless. he watches your reaction carefully, low eyes trained onto your every movement.
and suddenly, there's that faint smirk again—but it's softer; barely there and more restrained than usual in a way you almost didn't catch.
"goodnight, doll," he said lowly. "sleep well."
like nothing had almost just happened.
he steps back, ripping the thick air that had just sat between you like a third person. breaking it and leaving you there standing with it.
“you’re—” you start, but you don't even know what to call him.
he tilts his head slightly, licking his lips and averting his gaze down you one last time. “what?”
you exhale half-laugh and half-frustration. “annoying.”
he smiles, dimples pulling at his cheeks. “i know," he says, before turning around and walking back to his car.
from the doorstep, you watch him get in, turn on the engine, and leave. leaving you there with more thoughts than your racing heart could keep up with and a miserable dampness in your panties.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
namjoon's place is quiet again. too quiet.
he tosses his keys down, walks a few steps in, then stops—like his body forgot what he was about to do.
because his mind was entirely somewhere else.
it was still at your door. still immersed into that moment.
he leans back against his kitchen counter, exhaling. he's replaying everything now, like dinner—the way you didn't switch up when you found out what he did. you weren't suddenly impressed or started asking the wrong questions.
you stayed the same. maybe you were a little quieter, a tad bit more aware. but you didn't completely fold.
that absolutely sat under namjoon's skin now. he was completely enamored by you, and didn't want to pull a girl like you into his chaotic world. didn't want you to adjust to him because of who he was, like most people did.
but you didn't. you just took it in, and kept going. you stayed exactly the same—you still called him annoying and told him he wasn't impressive.
he looks at his phone sitting a few feet away. he already gave you control once. he let you decide whether or not to text him, to decide if it was going to go anywhere or not.
but he wasn't going to do that tonight.
him: you always look at people like that or was that just for me?
he sets the phone down, but not far. because you've consumed every inch of his mind again without even trying to. he thinks about the your eyes dropped to his lips, the way you didn't pull away.
his jaw tightened slightly. he knew he was in trouble.
his phone lit up again.
her: like what?
he lets out a quiet breath, a smile pulling at his lips. the way you played it off, like you always did, made him only want more. made him think that maybe he should've kissed you right then and there—should've forgot about being a man and taking his time with you and—
he slowly took in a deep breath through his nose, dragging a hand across his face.
him: like you were about to do something you'd regret
her: don't know if i'd call it regret
namjoon liked that a little too much, licking his lips and leaning back. because now, he knows you felt it too.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a few days and several text conversations later, namjoon sends you a text on a night he knows you're not working. no question or explanation, just;
joon: be ready at 7
when he picks you up, the air already shifts when you walk outside. it was in the way he looked at you, slow and deliberate, like he wasn't hiding it at all anymore. he takes his time, eyes trailing from your shoes, to the way your skirt falls, the jewelry at your wrist, to your face.
"you always dress like this, doll?" he asks lowly, stepping closer to you.
you raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way the name made your brain feel like mush. "like what?"
"like you knew exactly what you were doing when you picked that."
your lips pressed together slightly, trying not to smile. "maybe i did."
a faint smirk pulled at his lips. "yeah," he agreed. "i think you did."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the driver is longer, along the coast again. his tinted windows are cracked, music low with the sky fading into the darkest blue that only happens by the water.
you and namjoon talk, but it's far from that careful, first date way. the conversation flowed between you easily. you interrupted each other, went off on tangents. doubled back to things you both said earlier. like you both have done this together longer than you actually had.
when you arrive, the place is even more secluded than last time. a quiet overlook with soft lights and the ocean extending endlessly in front of you. the sound of waves clashed below in a way that was steady and grounding.
it felt private, like the rest of the world didn't exist here.
you and namjoon sit closer this time without question. dinner stretches and the conversation flows. you don't even discuss all the big things, but it's the way you talk about the small ones that makes it feel different.
you tell him about what hobbies you have, about your job—how it's routine, how people underestimate it, and how sometimes you feel stuck. and he doesn't brush it off or give you empty encouragement like most people did.
"you're not stuck," he corrected you firmly.
you scoff every is slightly. "that's easy for you to say."
"it's not about me," he replies softly. "you just need to find what you want."
you pout slightly in a way that makes his heart falter. "and you have?"
he pauses for half a second. "yeah." that same confidence remained in his tone, and for a second it felt like he might have been talking about something else.
at some point, his hand settles at the back of your chair. but this time, it stays. it wasn't touching you directly, but it was close enough to make you aware of it. aware of him.
you shift slightly and his slender fingers brush at your shoulders. they rest there for a second longer than necessary before pulling back. his warmth and his actions sent an unbearable heat between your legs.
after dinner, you both step away from the table, walking along the edge of the overlook. the night air is cooler now, ocean breeze slipping through you. you and him walk a little closer than before, shoulders lightly brushing with every few steps.
you wrapped your arms around you slightly, and his jacket is already around your shoulders before you can say anything.
you glance back at him, stopping in your steps to look at him properly. "you know... you're very sure of yourself."
"that bothers you?"
"no," you admit honestly. "it's just—different."
he pauses for a small moment. "from what you're used to?" he asks.
you nod slightly. he studies you for a second. "you're trying to figure out how old i am again."
your eyes widen slightly. "i'm not—"
"you are."
you exhale. "okay, maybe a little."
he lets your confession sit in the air before he nods slightly toward a couple walking past you two—a generation older than you, quieter, and settled. "you think i'm closer to them, or closer to you?" he asks.
you look back at the couple, then back at him. you really look at him, thinking about the way he carries himself. the way he speaks. the way he doesn't rush anything.
your expression shifts. "...okay," you say slowly. "how old are you?"
he pauses for longer than just a few seconds. "thirty-three," he answers finally.
you can't help but blink. once. twice. "...really?"
"yeah."
you study him again, like the answer didn't quite align with what you were seeing. "you don't look thirty-three."
"i know," he answered casually.
"that's kind of unfair," you said playfully.
he smiled softly. "i've heard that."
a quiet beat passes as namjoon watches you carefully, curiously watching your expression.
you shrug slightly. "okay."
he tilts his head. "that's all?"
"what?" you ask. "were you expecting something else?"
"most people... adjust," he stated.
you look at him deeply, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "well i'm not most people."
he steps closer, lightly closing the space between you. his scent filled your head once again, making your breath catch.
"yeah," he said lowly. "i noticed."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
later, when you leave the restaurant together, you don't rush out. you never do.
namjoon walks slightly behind you first as you both headed towards the entrance, one hand finding its way onto the small of your back. it became natural now, something you didn't react to—externally, at least.
his hand was there, guiding you carefully down the steps.
two hostesses near the front glance up. then they glance at namjoon. then to you, then back at him.
a quick look exchanged between them followed by a few whispers and positive smiles. he catches it immediately. of course he does.
namjoon doesn’t look directly at them—he doesn’t acknowledge it—but there’s the faintest change in his expression. then his hand presses just slightly firmer at your back.
a quiet, almost instinctive gesture. not to show off. just to keep you close—and slightly focus the attention on you.
you don't notice the whispers, but you do notice the presence of his hand grow warmer. "what?" you ask, glancing back at him.
"nothing," he says easily.
the lights from the restaurant glowed behind you, the cool night air and a soft breeze coming off the water hitting you all at once.
there's a small set of marble steps leading down towards the parking area. you start down them without thinking—mind entirely captured by namjoon—and suddenly your heel catches slightly.
it's quick—barely a stumble, but it's enough to throw you off balance slightly. his large hands instantly find their way to your waist firmly, tightening his grip and steadying you before you could even process anything.
"careful, baby," he murmurs, low and close. the name slipping out like it had always belonged there.
you freeze for half a second, breath catching slightly before you steady yourself, hand instinctively brushing against his arm.
"I'm fine," you say, a little too quickly, beginning to continue a careful ascend down the steps and ignoring the heat on your cheeks.
namjoon however, doesn't move his hands right away. they linger on your waist a second longer than necessary, making sure you're fully balanced. "i know," he says calmly.
you look up at him, trying to play it off. "you don't have to—"
"i know," he cuts in softly.
and when you reach the bottom of the steps, his hand doesn't leave your back. it stays there, steady, guiding you towards his car like you're already part of his space.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
the drive back is quiet, the low vibration of the music and the city lights and palm trees flickering past practically lulling you to sleep.
and namjoon's presence, of course.
his large hand rested on the wheel, the other on the center console. close enough. by the minute, you swear it continues to get closer.
"tell me about him," namjoon says suddenly, the deep baritone of his voice making your thighs press together slightly.
you frown slightly from confusion. "about who?"
"your ex."
it catches you off guard. "...why?"
he shrugs lightly, sharp eyes still on the road. "i'm curious."
you hesitate before sighing. "he was..." you trailed off, trying to find the right word. "lazy."
half a second passed. "immature," you added. "didn't really pay attention to me unless it was convenient."
and as you talk, namjoon's jaw tightens slightly. it's subtle and controlled in a way you don't notice, but it's there.
"he just-" you shook your head slightly, looking out the window. "i don't know. it felt like I was always asking for the bare minimum."
for a long second, silence fills the car. namjoon's fingers tap once against the console. then, they shift. his hand moves unhurriedly, eventually finding its way to rest against your thigh, making a sharp bolt of warmth shoot down your body.
"yeah," he says finally, voice low and rough. "that sounds about right."
you glance at him. "what does that mean?"
he paused for a second. "guys your age," he continues, calm but edged with something sharper now. "they don't know what to do with a woman like you."
your stomach flips in a way that is impossible to ignore. "and you do?" you ask teasingly, trying to keep your tone steady.
his thumb shifts slightly against your thigh slightly. butterflies erupted in your stomach and your thighs shifted in a way you couldn't help, trying to disregard the heat between your legs.
"i wouldn't ignore you," he says simply.
the air in car seems to shift as you swallow hard, glancing out the window before looking back at him. "you barely know me."
"i know enough," he answers.
your breath catches slightly. namjoon's hand stays sat on your thigh steadily, like he knows exactly what it's doing to you.
"and i definitely wouldn't have you asking for anything," he adds. his words land deeper than they should, etching themselves into the back of your mind without asking.
you let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh. "you're very confident."
"i'm honest," he says. he pauses for a moment. then, his voice drops just a little—"big difference."
you look at him again, thoroughly scanning his face this time. "you always talk like that?" you ask.
"only when i mean it."
another silence settles between you, this time sitting thick; heavy with everything both of you haven't said. his hand finally shifts, but not away from you. it only slides higher along your thigh before settling again.
"relax, doll," he murmurs softly, voice low and deep.
you exhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. "you're doing that on purpose."
"doing what?"
you shake your head slightly. "you know exactly what."
a faint smirk pulls at his lips. "yeah," he answers. "i do."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
suddenly, the rest of the drive feels too short.
namjoon pulls to your curb, parking swiftly with one hand before cutting the engine. silence fills the space, neither of you reaching for the door immediately.
you look down at your hands, then back up, like you're about to say something—but the words don't come as easily now. because everything, from the restaurant, the drive is still sitting in between you. his hand, his voice. doll.
"you got quiet again," he says softly.
you let out a small breath. "you make it hard not to."
he stills ever so slightly, like your words had pulled something out of him. "do i?" he asks.
you look at him, holding his intense gaze this time. "yeah."
he pauses for longer than normal, eventually moving his hand before his mouth. he starts slow—not to your thigh this time—but higher. his fingers lift, brushing lightly along your jaw. just the tips, tracing the line like he needed to memorize it.
your breath catches immediately, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you seemingly couldn't look away from his face. he tilts his head slightly, watching your reaction closely.
"you always look like this when you're thinking?" he murmurs.
your voice comes out quieter than you expect. "like what?"
his thumb lingers beneath just beneath your chin for just a second. then it shifts slightly, guiding your face just enough so that you're looking directly at him and nothing else.
"like you're trying to figure out if this is a good idea," he says.
your heart practically stumbles. because he absolutely was right. "and?" you ask quietly.
a small smirk pulls at his mouth. but this one was softer, like it was more certainty than teasing. "i think you already decided," he murmurs. his gaze drops briefly, down to your lips, then back up again. this time, he doesn't even try to hide it.
"you're dangerous, you know that?" you say, barely above a whisper.
he leans in slightly, his scent taking over your lungs. "yeah?"
your breath is uneven now. "yeah."
his gaze drifts again, over your face, slower this time. fully taking you in. "you still thinking about the age thing?" he asks.
"no," you respond, holding the burning eye contact.
he studies you for half a second, like he's deciding if you're telling the truth. then, he exhales quietly, almost amusedly. "yeah," he says. "didn't think you would."
his hand lifts from your chin before resting lightly at your waist, thumb pressing just slightly before easing.
"probably better for you," he adds, voicer lower now, teasing but grounded in something real and deep, "if you didn't get used to someone like me."
your stomach flips instantly. "who says i'm getting used to you?" you shoot back, trying to play it off.
a smile tugs at his lips. "doll," he murmurs, softer and closer, the warmth of his breath hitting your neck. "you're already here."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a few days later, namjoon sends you an address located in the corner of a private street in LA telling you to meet him there. telling you that he wanted to show you something.
a building tucked slightly off the main road, close enough to the water that the air already feels different when you step out of the car.
you hesitate for a half a second before going in. not nervous, but just a little too aware of what you were walking into. with a few instructed taps on the door buzzer, you were let in.
inside, the hallway light is dim, soft lights lining the walls that were decorated with award cases, album posters, and framed vinyls. the floors were sleek and bass echoed through the walls.
you followed the sound the sound down the hallway, until you find a studio door that's slightly open. the gold plate on it reading, "kim namjoon" then below it, "head executive producer."
you exhale softly, heart slightly stopping at that and swallowing a little too hard before you push it gently, and that's when you see him.
sitting at the main console, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting near the soundboard. one hand adjusting a dial, the other resting against his chin like he's listening too closely.
he was so immersed that he hadn't noticed you yet.
the room was lowly lit—colored LEDS instead of overhead lights, the glow from the equipment reflecting softly against his face.
and there's something about him like this—focused, quiet, and completely in his element—that hits differently, making your stomach twist into a knot.
his sleeves are pushed up again, glistening watch catching the light as he moves his hand. a chain rests below his collar, barely visible, but sparkling in the light.
everything about him is so simple, but it fits him all too well. you don't mean to stare, but you definitely do.
and then, like he felt it—namjoon finally glances up. your eyes immediately meet, and you swear you felt a spark flash through your body.
for a split second, he doesn't say anything. he just looks at you, gaze taking you in deliberately.
then, he licks his lips so lightly you almost don't catch it. "you just going to stand there," he says, voice low and soft. "or are you coming in?"
you blink, snapping out of your trance slightly. "i-i didn't want to interrupt."
"you didn't," he replies easily. but his eyes linger on you for a second longer, almost like he knew you were watching him.
you step inside, softly closing the door behind you. the white lighting from the hallway had disappeared now, fully engulfing you into his world—his studio, his creative space—the place where he made every hit even possible. the big room suddenly felt smaller now, more private.
you look around, taking it all in. the walls are boarded with soundproof panels, and large speakers are placed around the sleek equipment. there's two chairs, a beanbag, and couch with folders of music sheets and lyrics scattered on the floor and on counter tops. "this is... really nice."
"mm," he hums, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs slightly. "it works."
you glance at him. "you say everything like that."
"like what?"
"like it's not a big deal."
a faint smirk. "it's not."
you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. he gestures towards the seat next to him. "come here." it wasn't a question.
you walk over, sitting beside him—closer than expected, immediately greeted by his warmth and the musk of his cologne.
he turns towards the console, grabbing a pair of high-end headphones. "listen to this," he says. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before carefully placing them over your head.
music plays—smooth and layered. it had no lyrics, but it was already catchy. you hummed in delight. "it's really good," you said softly, gently taking the headphones off.
"i know," he replies casually.
you laugh. "you're insufferable."
he glances at you, a smirk forming. "you're still here though."
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
after a few minutes of namjoon showing you some buttons, he glances at you. "you want to try something?"
you look at him, a bit hesitant. "like what?"
he shifts slightly, turning your chair just enough so that your angled more towards the board. "come on," he says, nodding towards the controls. "i'll show you."
"...i feel like i'm going to mess something up," you say.
"you won't."
"how do you know?"
he leans in slightly, his breath hitting your neck ever so slightly. "because i'm right here."
your stomach flips again. he reaches around you slightly, one hand bracing lightly against the edge of the console near you, the other guiding your hand toward a dial.
“turn this,” he says, voice lower now, near your ear.
you try to focus. you really do. but namjoon is close. too close. his warmth spilling all over you, hitting you in all the places that made your thighs pull closer together.
you turn the dial slowly—and immediately the sound distorts in a ridiculous way. you both pause.
"...was that supposed to happen?" you ask.
he stares at the board for a second before a short laugh escapes him, dimples tugging at his cheeks. "no," he says.
you burst out laughing. "i told you!"
he shakes his head with another laugh, reaching forward to fix it, his arm brushing yours again. "you didn't break it," he says. "relax."
"i definitely did something."
"you did," he replies with a smile. "just not what i said."
you laugh again, softer this time.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
you're standing now, not sitting anymore.
because namjoon told you to.
“stand here,” he said, guiding you lightly by the waist until you were in front of the soundboard. no asking, just placing you there. you stiffened under his touch that sent a light shock through you.
"relax, doll," he murmurs behind you. the deep baritone of his voice hitting a little too close.
you exhale slowly, trying to focus on the board in front of you—but it's hard when you can feel him right behind you. he steps in closer, practically pressing you together.
one hand reaches around you, bracing against the console. the other finds yours, fingers sliding over yours, adjusting your grip on one of the controls. "not like that," he says, low. "too quick."
"i'm not doing anything fast," you defend weakly, trying your best to sound steady.
you hear a quiet, almost amused exhale behind you. "yeah?" he murmurs deeply.
his chest brushes lightly against your back as he leans in closer, guiding your hand again—slower this time. "you rush when you're nervous."
"i'm not nervous."
"mm," he hums, unconvinced. his hand tightens slightly over yours, turning the dial with you. the sound shifts, smoother this time. "like that," he says.
but he doesn't move away, not even a little bit. you swallow, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. his hand over yours, his chest behind you, his voice vibrating your ear. and you definitely tried to ignore something hard resting against your ass.
"you do this with everyone?" you ask.
"no," he answered simply.
at to that, your heart stumbled. his hand left yours, but only came to settle at your waist, firm and steady. in his grip he turned you slightly—not fully, but enough to turn your attention away from the board and onto him. "you're distracted again," he murmured.
you let out a soft breath. "you keep saying that like it's my fault."
a smirk pulls at his lips, one that you can practically hear in his voice. "doll," he says lowly, "you haven't been focused since you walked in."
your stomach flips as you turn your head slightly, giving just enough space to look back at him—but it's a mistake. because he's already looking at you, his face much closer than expected and barely any space left between you now.
"you always get like this?" he asks softly.
"like what?"
his gaze drops slowly, then back up again. "quiet." he pauses. "...when you feel something."
your breath catches. "you act like you know me," you say.
"i do," he replies casually. those words shouldn't hit you as hard as they do, but they do anyway—causing your heart to leap.
he shifts you fully this time, making you fully face him as his large hands still rested at your waist, thumbs pressing in ever so slightly.
"or maybe," he adds, voice quieter now. "you're just not used to someone who pays attention."
your chest rises slowly. "and you do?"
"to you?" he asks quietly, something flickering across his eyes. "of course i do."
a small pause. "i wouldn't ignore you," he mutters in your ear, breath hot down your neck in a way that makes your hairs stand up. his hand tightens slightly against you. "not like they did."
his words land, striking the base of your heart deeply. "and i definitely wouldn't have you guessing where you stand."
your breath is uneven now, but you can't seem to look away. "confident," you murmur.
"experienced," he corrects simply. his voice and his head dips lower just slightly—"difference is...i know how to treat a woman like you properly."
and suddenly the last thread holding you steady is already gone. you exhale softy, almost a laugh, but not quite. "you always talk like this?"
"only when i mean it."
silence fills the space around you, heavy and close. one of his hands lifts from your waist slowly before coming to your jaw and tracing along it deliberately, just like he did before.
his thumb sits at your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. it takes everything in you for your knees to not buckle right then and there, taking in his low, piercing gaze.
"you keep looking at me like that," you whisper.
"like what, hm?" he asks, voice low as he tilts his head lower, leaving little space between your noses. you felt like your whole world was spinning, trying to ground yourself properly without clinging onto him.
"like you're about to do something."
he pauses for a split second, licking his lips while his eyes practically swirled with darkness. then—low and certain—"i am."
and this time, namjoon doesn't stop himself. he leans in, fully closing the last bit of distance between you, crashing his lips onto yours. it's immediate—but not rushed. he kisses you slow, deep, like he's been holding it back for too long and finally had decided he was done.
you respond quickly, completely melting under the contact and moving your lips into his. your breath catches against his, one hand instinctively finding one of his big arms, while the other gripped on his shirt to steady yourself— because it hits you all at once.
the way he pulls you closer against him, one of his hands firmly settled at your waist while the other holds your head possessively, gently tilting your head at an angle that allowed him to kiss you deeper.
you lean into him without thinking—and he feels it, of course. he hooks his fingers around the belt loop of your denim skirt, pulling you even closer. the kiss deepens—but it isn't overwhelming. it's certain, like he wanted to take his time with his lips against yours.
your fingers tightened against him, causing him to exhale quietly against your lips, like he had been waiting for that exact response from you.
when you both pull back, you barely move an inch. foreheads close, breath uneven, and neither of you pulling away. his hands remain at your waist, yours still on him.
and after a second of catching your breath—namjoon leans in again. not because he's testing it anymore, but because he wants it—no, he needs it again. and you seem to meet him there just as fast.
his lips capture yours for the second time that night, practically taking your breath with him. your thighs press together slightly as you kiss him back, your hand sliding higher along his arm, gripping his bicep and pulling him closer without even realizing it.
his grip tightens slightly. "don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he murmurs quietly against your lips, voice rough.
the kiss suddenly shifts, not messy or rushed—but hungry. namjoon's hand slid shamelessly down your waist and onto your ass, sliding up and down its curve like it was already his.
that pulled a gasp out of you, and he saw it as the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. you allow him, opening your mouth more to let him further explore it with his tongue. your lips practically molded together, saliva mixing as he swirled his tongue around yours.
"look at you..." he mutters, barely pulling back, his thumb brushing your jaw again. "so responsive."
your stomach flips more times than you can count. "don't—" you start, breath uneven, but you can't even finish the sentence before you feel dampness between your legs.
"don't what, baby?" he asks lowly, smirking faintly against your lips. "don't notice you?"
he kisses you again before you can answer. his hand slides up from your ass, up your waist to your side—slower and more deliberate, before settling it there again, like he's grounding you there with him.
your grip on him tightens, deepening the kiss without intending to. "doll..." he murmurs, quietly now like it's a warning.
but he doesn't stop, and you most certainly don't want him to. all of a sudden namjoon is moving, guiding you back without breaking the kiss, step by step, until the back of your legs hit the couch.
you exhale softly in surprise—before you're sitting and he is too, pulling you with him. now, you find yourself on his lap—straddled on top of him with his hands firmly gripping your thighs and with everything much closer.
your hands find his broad shoulders, this time holding onto him like you desperately need to steady yourself, leaning into him once more. and namjoon notices, like he always does.
a low exhale leaves him, almost like a quiet laugh. "not pulling away anymore, are you, baby?" he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw slowly while his big palms drag up and down your thighs.
his plush lips trace the line of your jaw, littering soft kisses and your head tilts slightly to give him space without even thinking about it. "good," he praises quietly against your skin, lips trailing their way down your neck.
as he presses soft kisses along your neck, one of his hands presses a little firmer into your thigh, keeping you against him as the other rested gently at your neck—not enough to put pressure—but enough for your mind to go blank and make your thighs noticeably shift.
your breath hitches just above him, and his other hand soothes slowly against your thigh to steady you. "you have no idea..." he murmurs, lightly digging his teeth into your skin, making you shudder. "how hard i was trying to take my time with you."
your fingers tighten against him, struggling to ignore the unbearable ache in your core. "then why aren't you?" you manage softly, voice weaker than usual, knowing you didn't want that.
he paused for a moment, the warmth of his breath tingling down your neck and through your spine. his voice comes lower this time, but steadier. "because you stopped me from wanting to."
he pulls back just enough to look at you again, dark and low eyes trailing every inch of your face. his hand comes up, brushing your hair behind your ear slowly, slower than before.
"you're trouble, princess," he says lowly, another nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. "but i like it."
your breath is still uneven, your heart racing faster than your mind—but you don't look away. "good," you murmur.
namjoon's jaw tightens slightly at that—not in frustration, but in complete restraint. what's left of it, at least.
his hand that rested along your neck slid up, tilting your chin upwards with his thumb once again, making sure that you were really looking at him. "you sure about this, doll?" he asks lowly.
you nod without hesitation. "yes."
a small pause fills the thick, small space between you, but his smoldering gaze doesn't leave yours. his gentle hold on your jaw tightens ever so slightly—not to harm you, but to ground you into the moment. "you understand...i'm not the kind of man you forget after this."
your breath catches, but you don't pull back. "i know," you say softly, holding his gaze.
his hands return to your waist, firmer this time, pulling you just slightly closer to him—close enough that space barely existed anymore. "yeah..." he murmured, his thumb tracing lightly along your skin. "then stay with me."
you nearly shuddered from his words, the warmth of his body on yours surrounding you and making your skin tingle. "i will," you nearly whispered, praying that he couldn't feel the dampness between your legs at the thought of never leaving his side.
"good," he grunted in your ear, hot breath spilling down your neck. he pulled back just slightly before closing the space between you once again, tilting your head with his thumb and pulling your lips in with his unhurriedly.
you immediately softened into him as you moved your lips together, your chest immediately becoming flush against his and practically folding underneath his touch. his hands left your waist, finding their grip lower and onto your ass, holding you steadily against him while his tongue explored you once more.
his lips left yours to litter your neck with kisses—sloppy and open-mouthed this time, sucking harder and marking a trail of red marks down to your collarbone. you whimpered with every suck, thighs noticeably shifting against his legs.
namjoon's slender fingers found their way underneath your top, sliding it up slowly—like he was waiting for you to stop him—but you never did. you only complied, lifting your arms up. and in one swift motion, your top was off, and his lips already found themselves on your cleavage.
"so beautiful, baby," he murmured into your skin, tongue lightly lapping against the mark he had just made on top of your breast.
suddenly you felt his big palms on your waist once again before he manhandled you—lifting you up and lying you gently across the couch before his large figure quickly filled your vision and filling up your entire view.
all you could see in the ambient light of his studio was his broad shoulders, his low, piercing eyes, and glimmering chain now hanging in front of your face before he captured your lips again. you practically moaned into it, fingers gripping tightly into his shirt like you needed more.
"fuck," he murmured against you between kisses, intertwining his long fingers with yours, dragging your palm deliberately up his chest. your hands moved before your mind, tugging him closer by his shirt and immediately fumbling with the buttons.
he smirked, large hands moving to help you take it off. once he tossed it somewhere in the room, your hands danced around his body greedily, trailing over his abs, from his chiseled chest and to his swell back.
"should be taking you to my house like a fuckin' man. should fuck you in my bed slow 'n proper. but i've lost my patience with you, doll," he breathed lowly, licking his lips with hunger.
you could only bring yourself to whimper, as namjoon's big palm creeped around your thigh, trailing every so slowly inwards before stopping. your legs couldn't help but twitch helplessly underneath his touch, causing him to let out an amused breath of air.
"but you don't want that, do you?" he asked lowly in your ear, the desire in his voice making your core ache with unbearable need. his hands trailed closer to your heat, dragging his fingers leisurely against your inner thigh.
you shook your head desperately, but that wasn't enough for him. his fingers hooked around your skirt. "wanna hear you use that pretty mouth of yours, baby."
"i—yes—" you blurted breathlessly, struggling to find the words. "i want it—want you. here, joonie. right now."
his cock strained even harder against his pants. "good girl," he muttered before pulling your skirt down. when it was disregarded, namjoon's hands found your thighs again and you suddenly felt his long fingers trace against slowly against your sopping heat barely shielded by your lacy thong, sending a shiver down your entire body.
"wet for me already and i haven't even started with you," he smirked, finally hooking your panties to the side and letting your soaking core be hit by the cold air. your thighs instinctively went to clamp shut, but he quickly stopped them with his big hands.
"so sensitive, doll," he murmured, placing one big thumb just above your clit while the other fingers outlined your inner thigh. "guys your age don't take their time like this, do they?"
you shook your head immediately, whining out before his fingers glided up slowly against your wetness, his index finger swiping in between your folds. his thumb rubbed your clit in a long circle, pulling out a desperate whine out of your mouth.
finally, he pushed one long finger in between your folds, sliding into your hole that sucked him in, your wetness gushing his fingers. you whined loudly as he dragged it along your walls before plunging back in.
namjoon closed the distance between your faces, capturing your lips in with his and sucking on your bottom lip as he inserted another finger, thrusting into you at a steady pace while his thumb remained on your clit.
when he pulled away, it was only to align his face at your entrance. his hand firmly gripped onto your thighs, holding you in place. his fingers slowed inside of you as his nose came close to your core, the warmth of his breath directly hitting your pussy and making you twitch underneath him.
a small smirk pulled at his lips before he poked his tongue out, licking a light, gentle stripe against your folds. "mm, taste so sweet, baby."
you reacted immediately, thighs clenching around his head in a way he enjoyed a bit too much, his free hand wrapping around your leg firmly as he lapped delicately at your entrance.
you moaned his name, legs finally relaxing under his grip as he took his time with soaking your taste on his tongue. namjoon couldn't help but smirk against your folds, his plump lips completely enveloping your pussy into his mouth and sucking your wetness in hungrily.
it wasn't long before you felt his tongue greedily prying through your entrance, crying out in breathless moans. his two fingers stretched open your walls to allow more room for him to explore you with his tongue.
namjoon was absolutely driving you over the edge—his tongue plunged through your tight walls like no other, slender fingers stroking your insides while his thumb massaged your clit vigorously. he ate at you like he had starved for this—your back immediately curving off of the couch as you felt unbearable pressure twine into your stomach.
"that's it, doll," he cooed against your folds, his nose sitting on top of your clit. then, his voice dropped lower—"cum for me."
and so you did—completely letting go as your first orgasm tore through you like lightning. your legs shook around namjoon's head, his free hand rubbing against your thigh gently while his two fingers slowed inside of you. his tongue moved against your folds slowly, taking in every last drop of your release between his lips.
when your body was finally at ease from the state of euphoria he took you to, namjoon trailed kisses from your stomach and up, his hands gently caressing your sides.
"look at you taking me so good," he murmured between kisses, lips on yours now. "think you're ready for my cock, hm, baby?"
you nodded quickly, practically squirming beneath him. "yes joon—need it so bad." your fingers found his belt loop—his large hands finding yours immediately, helping you take off his pants entirely.
it was then when you saw the largest imprint strained tightly against his boxers, making you swallow hard without even realizing. his fingers looped around the hem, taking them off in a swift motion as he stood up.
his cock sprung out in front of you—thick, long, and angry with pre-cum glistening at the end. you sat up straight, jaw slightly slack without even realizing. namjoon's lips fought a smirk as he hovered over you, large shoulders swell and thick member curving up.
his low eyes looked down at you, clouded with darkness. he wrapped his large hand around the thick base of his cock, stroking slightly while taking in the sight of you in front of him.
"fuck," he grunted, "don't got any condoms, baby."
"it's okay, joon," you replied softly.
"you sure, doll?" he asked, tracing his fingers lightly against your jaw, tilting your head to look up at him fully.
you nodded. "wanna feel all of you," you said almost shyly.
"have no clue what you're doing to me," he responded lowly, almost to himself. then namjoon leaned down, grabbing your hips and lifting you up swiftly. you yelped in surprise as he sat down, bringing you back on top of his lap. only this time, you were skin to skin, your arousal miserably smearing onto his legs.
but he didn't seem to care. his large hands rubbed softly down your sides as he licked his lips. "you're so small, baby," he muttered in your ear, his thumb pressing into the side of your hip. "might break you."
"that's okay," you whispered, peering up at him with big, needy eyes.
"yeah?" he asked darkly, like your response had just snapped the last bit of restraint left in him. he held onto your hips firmly as he pulled you up, aligning your entrance with his cock. "gonna ruin you then, baby."
your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders immediately to steady yourself, his fat tip pushing through your folds and breaking into your tight entrance. you moaned out in a mix of pleasure and pain, feeling every inch of his width pushing slowly into your walls as you sunk down fully on his lap.
his grasp on you became tighter as he guided you further down, hissing in pleasure as he split you open widely with his cock. your eyes shut tight as your inner thighs kissed his. slowly, the tip of his member found the back of your walls, your head throwing back from the overwhelming stretch.
namjoon held you against him firmly, allow you to fully adjust to his length before he captured your lips into a kiss. "it's okay, doll," he murmured against you. "you're taking me so well."
after a minute of soft, warm coos in your ear—namjoon began to slide you up and down his vast length slowly with his large hands, emitting a loud whine from your lips. soon, he picked his pace, his cock repeatedly kissing the deepest part of your hole. "good baby... that's it," he praised lowly.
your head was filled with nothing but the thought of you, him, and his fat cock curving up inside of you and exploring your walls. he took you to a pure state of euphoria as he thrusted up in you. his hold was firm on you as he bounced you up and down his cock.
your eyes fluttered at your view, melting under his piercing gaze— his jaw tightened in pleasure and concentration, low eyes scanning your fucked-out expression hungrily. you nearly screamed in pleasure.
"such a good girl for me," he grunted in your ear, one large palm trailing up your sides before resting along your neck. his fingers wrapped around it slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to apply pressure that made your mind dizzy and your pussy clench his member tightly.
his other hand came firmer around your waist before suddenly you were moving—your head being guided back down on the couch while your body was being manhandled by namjoon while he kept his cock buried deep inside of you. one hand settled beside your head while the other remained grazing your throat lightly.
once you both fully adjusted to the new position, namjoon continued to thrust in you, roaming your pussy at an entirely new angle. your wetness gushed around his cock sloppily, filling the room with lewd slapping noises. "you fit around me so well, doll," he muttered breathlessly, breath shooting down your spine as he littered messy kisses along your neck.
his hand traveled from your throat down to your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing it softly. you were a moaning mess beneath him as he fucked you relentlessly now, tip slapping messily against the spongiest part of your walls, making your mind go blank.
his palm found its way around your thigh, lifting it above his shoulder. he closed the distance between you two, cock greedily marking a place inside your hole in a way no one had ever done before as his chest pressed against yours.
he rutted his length inside of you, making your eyes roll back and the couch move back and forth with every movement. "gonna fill you up tonight, doll. gonna make you mine," he murmured. "what do you think, baby?"
you could only moan in response, lost in the feeling of his cock buried so deeply inside of you. "nuh uh," namjoon ticked lowly, his thrusts becoming brutal. "wanna hear that pretty voice of yours, baby."
"mmph—yes~ make me yours, joon," you whined breathlessly.
you cried out—heat coiling unbearably in your stomach, pure bliss clouding your mind as namjoon picked up his pace, feeling your walls hugging him in tightly. "yeah... right where you belong baby," he muttered. "taking me so good like this."
your second orgasm of the night hit you even harder this time—ripping through you like a monstrous ocean wave. he fucked you through your high, your legs shaking violently against him; release spilling all over his cock as you moaned out his name breathlessly.
"that's it, baby," he grunted lowly as he made his final, slower thrusts, burying himself inside you as deep as possible before releasing his hot seed into your walls. "come on my dick, pretty girl."
your vision was practically filled with stars as your body became limp under his grasp. he milked his cock deep in your walls before he pulled out with a sharp hiss, laying down beside you—lengthy body half on the couch and half off of it.
you both laid there next to each other breathless, chests moving up and down in sync as you processed what had just happened.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
suddenly, the studio is quiet again.
it wasn't completely silent—just the low hum of equipment filling the room with one of his tracks still looping quietly in the background.
clothes half-on, curled against him on the couch with his large arm around your waist, holding you close against his chest like he had no intention of letting you drift away.
for awhile, neither of you say anything. namjoon's fingers moved slowly against your side, absentmindedly tracing soft patterns into your skin. the movement only grounded you into him more.
then finally, a low exhale left namjoon's lips. "c'mere," he murmurs softly, even though you were already pressed against him. his big hands slid higher along your back, pulling you in even closer anyway until your head was resting properly against his chest.
it only made your cheeks flush a bright red—the moment feeling possessive in a way that was ever so gentle. like he just needed to make sure you were still there. now, you can hear his heartbeat. it thumps steadily now against his large chest.
"you okay?" he asks quietly.
you nod against him. "yeah," you reply softly.
then his lips brush lightly against the top of your head, placing a soft kiss that lingers. "good," he murmurs.
something about the way he said it made warmth spread through your chest again. his hand settles at your waist once more, thumb brushing lightly beneath the fabric of your top. "you still overthinking?" he asks after a minute.
you let out a small laugh against his chest. "maybe a little."
a quiet hum leaves him. "don't."
you tilt your head slightly to look at him. his expression is softer now. his gaze still intense—because he always looks intense when looking at you—but softer. "you regret it?" he asks gently.
you shook your head immediately. "no," you replied, meaning it with everything in your chest.
at your words, something in namjoon's expressions shifts. it wasn't surprise, it was only something deeper. his hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing slowly along your cheek.
"good," he says again, quieter this time. then, like his confidence had just made a return—"would've been a problem if you did."
you laugh softly, cheeks warming again. "you're crazy, joon."
"for you?" he murmurs. "starting to think maybe."
your stomach flips all over again. namjoon studies you for a second, gaze moving slowly across your face like he's memorizing it. like he still can't believe that you're here. with him, and in his arms.
his hand slides along your thigh gently. this time, it isn't teasing. instead, it feels familiar and warm. "come back to my place," he says quietly.
you hesitate for maybe half a second, but only because your heart is racing faster than your mind. his thumb brushes lightly against your leg. "you don't have to leave, doll," he murmurs.
"you sure?" you ask quietly. because in your past, once guys were done, they were done with your presence for the night—or even forever.
"of course," he says. then, a faint smile touches his mouth, voice dropping a little. "i'm not doing being around you."
and it only seemed that you weren't exactly done being around him either.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
two months later, being with namjoon feels easy. and it wasn't because he was simple. it was the exact opposite.
he's still intense, but still composed. he still walks through every room like he owns it without needing attention from anyone in it. but with you? he's soft in all the places it matters.
namjoon becomes part of your life so naturally it almost scares you sometimes.
mornings tangled up in his expensive sheets while sunlight pours through the massive windows of his house that overlooks the city. his large hand resting on your waist while he scrolls through emails lazily with the other. his bright smile on display every time he made you laugh or blush.
in his free time, he'd show up to your work with your favorite dinner meal. sometimes, he'd sit at a table in your section and order food just to be able to talk to you any chance you'd get.
afternoons where he pulls you into his lap while he's working on music. he'd barely let you sit more than a foot away from him before he was already touching you again somehow.
his fingers through your hair, your legs draped over his. his mouth against your temple when he quietly tells someone important over the phone that he'll "call back later."
and of course, he spoils you constantly. it wasn't in a loud way either. it was more like taking care of you and putting a smile on your face had just become his instinct.
he buys you things you casually mention liking once. he leaves designer bags on the bed like it's nothing. he'd get annoyed when you'd check price tags. he would sneakily place things in your basket at sephora as he trailed behind you, filling it up with everything you simply picked up and looked at.
you even tried to avoid going shopping with him sometimes because you never happened to pay for anything again.
"doll," he murmured one night, pulling your back against his chest, wrapping his large arms around you while you stared at a pair of brand new, christian louboutin red bottoms that he bought you. "if you like them, they're yours. stop thinking so hard."
and god, he hated it when you worked too much. he hated it even more when work stressed you out.
"you should call out," he tells you one morning, voice rough from sleep while you're leaving his bed for work.
you laugh softly. "some of us have to work, joonie."
his buff arms loop around your waist, pulling you back into the mattress effortlessly. "i know," he murmurs against your neck, nuzzling his nose into your warmth. "that's the problem."
eventually, namjoon starts saying it more seriously.
"quit," he says.
you look at him like he's insane every time. "be serious, joon."
"i am serious."
his hands slide along your thighs as you stand between his knees while he sits at the edge of the bed, looking up at you with that same, calm certainty he’s always had.
“i’ll give you whatever you need,” he says simply. “why are you stressing yourself out when you don’t have to?”
and the craziest part of it all to you, was that he meant it entirely. it wasn't because he wanted control—it was because taking care of you pulled at his dimples and his heart more than anything else ever had.
somewhere along the way, you became each other's favorite part of life. people notice too and eventually, the internet catches on.
a photo of you two start surfacing of you leaving restaurant in west hollywood, his hand firm at the small of your back. then, photos of him opening the door for you. and photos of him looking at you instead of the camera.
one set of paparazzi pictures blow up incredibly fast—you climbing into his car while he stands beside you in sunglasses and all black. one hand casually resting against the roof above your head, the other firm on your thigh as you settled into the seat.
neither of you comment on it, not publicly at least. but namjoon doesn't hide you either. because if anything—he loved being seen with you.
you noticed it in the small moments. the way his hand settled on your thigh more confidently when people recognized him on a date. the way he pulled you closer when cameras appeared. the way he looks almost amused by attention instead of irritated.
it was like he was always thinking, yeah, she's with me.
namjoon flexed you more than the music plaques on his wall or the collection of sleek cars in his driveway.
because throughout his entire career, no success, no hit record, or no amount of money—had ever made him look at proud as you do sitting beside him.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
4 months later~
the city outside namjoon's windows is glowing gold and white beneath the dark sky, soft music playing quietly somewhere in his giant house.
you're curled against him on the couch in one of his hoodies. legs across his lap while he scrolls lazily through something on his phone with one hand resting absentmindedly along your thighs.
you both had been like this all evening. quiet and comfortable; surrounded by the kind of silence that only exists when two people know everything about each other completely.
honestly, it could scare you a little. because somewhere along these four months, you and namjoon had stopped feeling temporary. it stopped feeling like some kind of whirlwind or fling.
instead, it just started feeling right. it just felt like you and him and nothing else completely belonged.
you looked over at him. observed the sharp line of his jaw that was softened by the warm lighting. the expensive watch sitting around his wrist. the reading glasses he only wore at home that sat low on his nose while he checked emails.
the realization hit you about a month ago so hard and your chest had felt tight ever since. you were completely, undeniably, and utterly in love with him. but now, you couldn't seem to hold it in anymore.
"you're staring again."
your heart jumps slightly. namjoon doesn't even look up from his phone when he says it. you roll your eyes. "you're obsessed with yourself."
a smirk touches his lips. "no," he murmurs calmly, finally looking over at you. "just obsessed with you."
you look away before he can see your flushed face, but of course he already noticed it. because there simply wasn't a thing he didn't notice about you. his phone turned off immediately. "hey," he said gently.
your eyes lift back to his. immediately his expression changes into something softer, but more serious. his hands slide up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you a little closer across the couch until you're practically in his lap. "what's going on in that head, hm?" he asks.
"nothing."
"liar."
the words are gentle, affectionate in a way. you laugh softly, but it comes out nervous. he catches that too. one hand comes up, brushing lightly along your jaw. "talk to me, doll."
you swallow. your voice comes out quietly—"what if... i love you more than you love me?"
the room goes completely still. namjoon stares at you for seconds that stretch far too long, like you had just said something completely. unbelievable.
his brows pulled together. "baby," he says softly, confused, "what?"
your heart pounds instantly at the name. you try to laugh it off, suddenly embarrassed now. "i don't know, i just—"
"no," he cuts in, hands tightening gently at your waist. they weren't harsh, but it was enough to stop you from spiraling away. "no, don't do that."
you looked back at him. and the way he was looking at you now—god. like this mattered. like you mattered.
"you really think you're ahead of me here?" he asks quietly, eyes boring into yours.
your breath catches as namjoon shifts closer, forehead resting lighting against yours. "i've been in love with you for a while now," he admitted softly.
for a second, you felt like you actually stopped breathing. his thumb brushed slowly against your cheek. "you just took longer to realize it."
a shaky laugh leaves you instantly, eyes burning now. namjoon smiles softly at that, an expression you only ever get to see.
"i love you," he says again, quieter this time. but it was certain, as if it were the most obvious thing it the world.
and suddenly every fear you had—about the age gap, about his fame, about his feelings for you—had totally disappeared. because this man—this calm, confident, impossible man—loves you so deeply that he didn't even hesitate to say it.
your eyes fluttered in disbelief, laughing away the butterflies in your stomach. "i love you too."
the smile that breaks across is face is small, but almost disbelieving. but it was unquestionably proud, like he had just won something prized. after that, he kissed you slowly. he enveloped your lips with his tenderly, soaking in all of your warmth beneath him.
"there you are," he murmurs softly. like you were always meant to end up here with him.
and somewhere between the side of the road and his arms, your little street thing had become everything.
‧₊˚📀✩♬ ₊˚.
a/n : hope u guys loved this as much as i do eee! sorry there was so much relationship building... this is the longest bts fic i've made (on this app at least) omg..but joon is actually so sexy i could die.
could see this turning into a small series bc they’re lowk otp!! hehe :3 but who knows...
Kim Namjoon lives a quiet, carefully ordered life, untouched by chaos. Until an arranged marriage brings a stranger into his world. What begins with distance slowly shifts through shared routines and silent understanding.In the stillness of everyday moments, something tender begins to grow.A gentle story of love that unfolds slowly, becoming home before either of them realizes.
A tall, handsome man with perfectly shaped lips, a prince straight out of a fairy tale leaned in and kissed you.
"Y/N!"
He moved his lips softly against yours, the world around you fading into a hazy glow.
"Y/N!"
The shouting finally broke through. You frowned, eyes fluttering open as you prepared to yell at whoever had the nerve to ruin such a perfect dream. But as your vision cleared, you found yourself staring right into your mother’s eyes.
"Oh, finally! You’re awake," she exclaimed. "You’re the one who asked me to wake you up early, and then you don't budge at all. I’ve been calling your name for the last ten minutes! Didn't you say you were heading out with your friends today? Go on, get ready!"
Your mom started tidying up the room, scolding you under her breath as she moved about. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, stretching your body lazily.
"Good morning, Mom," you said with a sweet, sleepy smile.
She just shook her head at you, heading toward the door to leave. Before stepping out, she paused. "Get ready quickly. Your dad wants to talk to you about something."
You hummed in response, finally sliding out of bed to freshen up.
It has been nearly a month since you returned to Korea after finishing your Master’s in Computer Science. You were originally supposed to stay back and find a job, but after a long, deep discussion with your brother about life and following your passions, you decided to take a break from the academic pressure.
After your marathon "freshening up" session, you finally headed downstairs, offering your mother a sheepish smile as she leveled a mock glare at you.
"Did it really take you forty-five minutes just to shower?" she gasped, hands on her hips.
"Were you scrubbing the tiles or actually washing yourself?" A familiar, teasing voice drifted in from the living room, the one voice that annoyed you to no end, yet you always loved hearing. Your brother, Jimin, was lounging on the sofa, calmly sipping his coffee.
"I just like being neat and tidy, unlike some people," you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him. You bypassed his smirk to raid the kitchen counter, stealing a handful of dry fruits while your mother busied herself with breakfast.
"Funny," Jimin called out mockingly. "That’s not the story your bedroom told last night. Clothes everywhere, stacks of comics... honestly, gross."
Pouting, you marched into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to your father, right across from your brother. Your dad chuckled at your expression, reaching over to affectionately ruffle your hair.
"Oh, look at her. She’s still such a cute kid," he said warmly. You were definitely the "spoiled princess" in his eyes, though you knew better than anyone that he could turn serious and strict the moment the situation called for it.
"Dad! Your son is being incredibly annoying!" you complained, leaning into his side.
Jimin clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he set his coffee cup down with a deliberate clink. "I honestly can't believe this childish girl is the one who’s supposed to be getting married."
The room went dead silent. The playful bickering died instantly as you froze, your eyes darting between your father and your brother. Even your mother had stopped what she was doing, stepping out of the kitchen into the living room, her eyes searching yours with a look of cautious hope.
Jimin swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under his father’s playful yet warning glare. He cleared his throat, suddenly looking much less confident than he had a moment ago. "Well, Y/N... Dad will explain. It’s better coming from him."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The lighthearted morning banter evaporated, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. You narrowed your eyes, looking back and forth between your parents, silently demanding to know exactly what Jimin was talking about.
"So, Y/N," your father began, his tone turning gentle but serious. He leaned forward, placing his cup carefully on the expensive glass coffee table. "This is something I’ve been planning to ask you for over a week now."
You hummed softly, keeping your gaze fixed on him, waiting for the rest of the sentence to drop.
"It’s about your marriage. A formal proposal has been made for you," your dad said, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. "You remember Mr. Kim? My old friend, the one I used to play golf with all the time?"
Your mother stepped closer, her hands clasped together, watching you with a mix of hope and nerves.
You tried to scan your memory, but it was like looking through a foggy window. The name "Mr. Kim" was so common, and it had been years since you’d really kept up with your father’s social circle.
"Ah, Y/N, you’re embarrassing me! How can you not know Mr. Kim Sang-ho?" Jimin interjected, shaking his head. "He’s a massive tycoon in the business world. He owns a string of high-end restaurants and a winery business that’s famous both here in Korea and abroad. He’s a very close family friend."
"Alright," you breathed out, trying to process the scale of this. "So? Does Mr. Kim have a son?"
"Yes, yes," your mother chimed in quickly, her voice full of excitement. "He has two sons. The eldest is Kim Seokjin, he’s already married. And then there's the youngest, Kim Namjoon."
"Dad... Mom..." You let out a long, heavy sigh. "I understand that you want me to settle down eventually, but don't you think this is a bit much for a casual breakfast?"
Your dad reached over, patting your back gently to soothe your rising nerves. "I’m sorry for dropping this on you so suddenly. That’s my fault. It’s just a proposal for now, okay? Mrs. Kim is the one who suggested it, apparently, she really likes the idea of you joining their family. And Namjoon has already seen your photo; he’s agreed to meet you."
"Dad!" You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "What about my consent? My opinion?"
"Yes, yes, of course, my daughter," he said quickly, raising his hands to calm you. "Only if you are completely okay with it will we proceed with a family dinner for a formal introduction. Not a moment before."
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. Feeling cornered, you looked over at Jimin, silently pleading for backup. Despite all the bickering and the teasing, he was always your pillar when things got serious.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he caught your gaze. He gave a firm, supportive nod. "Only if you actually like him, Y/N. You’ll look at his picture, and if you aren't feeling it, you say no. Simple as that. If you don't like him, we reject the proposal. End of story."
.✦ ݁˖
The past week had been a blur of nerves and second-guessing. You had seen Namjoon’s picture, and honestly, he was striking. He had a clean, classic handsomeness that radiated a "gentleman" vibe. Combined with your mother’s non-stop praise of his character, he seemed almost too good to be true.
Now, you were seated in the back of the car, watching the city lights of Seoul flicker by as you headed toward the restaurant for the formal family dinner. You had agreed to this meeting, but you’d made it very clear to your parents that this was just an introduction. Your final decision would come later.
You weren’t actually against the idea of marriage. In fact, you liked the romantic notion of falling in love and building a life with someone. But between your intense Master’s program and your somewhat lacking social skills, the "love marriage" route had felt increasingly out of reach. If an arranged meeting was the way it had to happen, you were open to it.
However, one detail kept nagging at you. As your mom yapped away in the front seat about the Kim family’s prestige, she mentioned they all lived together in a large family estate. Namjoon, his parents, and his older brother Seokjin with his wife.
That was the hardest part to swallow. Growing up, you’d always had your own space, surrounded by only a few close people. The idea of moving into a house full of in-laws was intimidating. You valued your privacy and your quiet moments; what if his family was overbearing?
Your mother’s description of them was glowing—almost suspiciously positive but you knew she was biased. You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, your palms a bit damp. In a few minutes, you’d finally see for yourself if the man in the photo lived up to the hype, and more importantly, if you could actually see yourself as part of his world.
"Y/N, are you nervous?" your dad asked softly as he held the car door open for you.
"Kind of, Dad," you admitted, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. He gave you a reassuring smile and guided you toward the entrance.
"Remember," he whispered as you walked, "only if you like them. No pressure."
The restaurant was one of the many the Kim family owned, and it was breathtaking. It was massive, elegantly designed, and screamed wealth from every corner. The staff greeted your family with practiced perfection, guiding you through the halls toward a private VIP dining area. Your heart skipped a beat as the heavy doors were pulled open, revealing the room inside.
Damn.
You were immediately met by several pairs of eyes, all of which seemed to zero in on you at once. The atmosphere was formal but warm, though the sheer weight of their collective attention made your stomach flip.
Keeping your composure, you offered the polite smile you’d practiced in the mirror and bowed deeply toward the elderly couple at the head of the table. You assumed, correctly, that these were Mr. and Mrs. Kim.
"It is a pleasure to meet you," you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.
As you straightened up, you noticed a tall man standing near the window. He was even more handsome than his photo, sharp features, a calm aura, and those same "fairy tale" lips you’d seen in your dream. He stood up as your family approached, his gaze fixed on you with a curious, gentle expression.
You gulped, momentarily overwhelmed, and shifted your gaze toward the other couple at the table—Seokjin and Yoona. Yoona had a smile that was pure sunshine, nodding at you with genuine warmth before greeting your parents. Seokjin followed suit, offering a respectful greeting to your father and mother before turning a friendly, curious smile toward you.
The three of you took your seats opposite the Kim family. Almost immediately, the elders dove into a lively chatter, their voices filling the room with the easy familiarity of old friends. You kept your eyes mostly lowered, feeling a wave of shyness wash over you as you began to eat in silence.
"Y/N, please, feel free to relax," Mrs. Kim said, her voice soft and encouraging.
You gave her a small, grateful nod and took a small bite of your steak. As you chewed, you couldn't help but feel a steady gaze on you. Every now and then, your eyes drifted toward the man sitting across from you—Namjoon. You caught him looking back more than once before he’d quickly look away.
"I heard you love designing?" Yoona asked suddenly, breaking through your thoughts.
You blinked, surprised. How did she know that? You glanced at your mother, who was looking very pleased with herself. She must have been bragging…
"Uh... yes. I do," you managed, your fingers instinctively fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. "It’s a... hobby? For now."
"You two actually need to speak to each other if you're going to get to know one another," Seokjin interjected, his voice light and playful, clearly trying to break the ice.
Namjoon cleared his throat as his mother gave him a subtle nudge under the table. He looked like he was searching for the right words, but Mr. Kim beat him to the next question.
"So, Y/N," Mr. Kim said, "do you intend on working at your father’s company in the future?"
"Oh, no," you replied, finding your voice. "I don't have any intentions like that. For now, I’m taking a break from both work and studies. Just... exploring life for a bit."
The table went slightly quiet for a second, and you felt your heart hammer against your ribs. You wondered if they expected a more "ambitious" answer, but then you saw Namjoon tilt his head slightly, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Through a series of small, lingering eye contacts with Namjoon, the conversation flowed from childhood stories to your life in London. By the time dessert arrived, the atmosphere had softened, though the weight of the evening still pressed on you.
"I really wish Jimin could have made it today," Jin commented with a grin. "He’s always such a mood."
"He had plans with his girlfriend," your mom replied, smiling. "It’s her birthday today."
Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your hand. "Um... excuse me," you said, standing up and holding your phone. "Important call." You offered a quick bow and slipped out of the private room.
Once you reached the quiet of the restaurant garden, you answered. It was Jimin. You had actually texted him earlier, begging him to call you as an excuse to step away—the room was becoming a bit much. Every question felt like an interview, even if Namjoon’s steady gaze felt surprisingly grounding.
After clearing your head for a few minutes, you headed back inside. The dinner was wrapping up, and your family was already bidding their goodbyes. You walked a few paces behind the group, falling into step with Yoona.
"Hi again," Yoona whispered playfully, nudging your shoulder.
"Hi," you replied, still feeling a bit awkward.
Then, you felt a presence right behind you. You tilted your head and saw Namjoon. Up close, he was tall—really tall—and his build was much broader than it had seemed in the photo. Yoona caught your expression, gave you a quick wink, and hurried ahead to join the elders.
"Hey," he said. His voice was deep, sending a sudden flutter of goosebumps down your spine.
"Hey," you managed to say back.
"I realized I didn't get to speak with you much during dinner," he said as you both slowed your pace, letting the others get further ahead. "I didn't want it to seem like I wasn't interested. I just... didn't want to add to your nervousness."
"Thank you," you admitted, finally letting out a breath. "I really was nervous there."
"You still are," he said, letting out a soft, warm chuckle.
You both came to a stop near the doorway. He turned to face you fully, his expression gentle. "Allow me to ask you out on a proper date? Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course."
"Uhm... sure," you blurted out. Then, realizing how quickly you’d agreed, you added, "I mean, that's not my final answer for the... marriage. I can't decide on something that big just from one family dinner."
"Of course not," he said, his smile widening to reveal deep, unmistakable dimples. "I wouldn't expect you to."
Cute, you thought, your heart doing a tiny somersault at the sight of those dimples.
After exchanging numbers and saying your goodbyes, you finally climbed into the back of the car. The silence lasted all of two seconds before you felt your parents’ eyes burning into the back of your head.
"I do like his family," you blurted out, trying to preempt the interrogation. "But I don't know anything about him yet. I need to know... more." You could feel a slight blush creeping up your neck, which didn't help your case at all.
"Sure, honey. So, I assume the date is next Sunday?" your mom said, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.
"Mom!" you groaned, your face heating up even more.
To escape her gaze, you looked down at your phone and immediately started doing what anyone in your position would do, stalking his socials. You searched for "Kim Namjoon," but it wasn't as easy as you expected.
He was clearly a very reserved person. His profiles were curated—mostly photos of art galleries, architecture, and the occasional landscape from his travels. There were no flashy party shots or "tycoon heir" flexes. It was all very calm and intellectual.
Just as you were scrolling through a photo of a Bonsai tree he had posted months ago, your phone buzzed in your hand.
[Unknown Number]:It was really nice meeting you tonight, Y/N. I hope I didn't make the 'exit' too awkward. Get home safely.
Your heart did that annoying little skip again. It was him.
Holy shit… I read this series in one sitting, I have never blushed, giggled, kicked my feet as much as I have while reading this amazing story. I genuinely felt so invested and into this story GAWDDD I love it so much I can yap about it for hours 😭😭
Warnings: SMUT!! With no plot, handjob/blowjob, fingering, he’s a munch, free-use (duh), They are in love dw, aftercare, slapping, slight degradation?????,
Authors note: This was a request so i'm hoping I got it right!! I hope you enjoy! :) NOT PROOFREAD.
Taehyung always knew what he was into wasn't "normal". He alway loved more darker stuff, especially when it came to sex. He LOVED to be in control, he never let many people dominate him, you were the only one who can. It doesn't happen often though.
His favorite view was you under him, cheeks flushed as you just came undone. He loves to see his marks all over you. He loved knowing he had possession over you.
You never really minded it. To be honest you preferred being the bottom anyway. Taehyung had a special ability to get to you. You were always intrigued by him. He always left you wondering what he was going to do next.
He just came home from work, you were laying in bed with your glasse. reading a book. The only source of lights coming from your bedside lamp, casting a warm glow to the room. Sheets are all messed up. Your legs positioned up in a lounging position.
Taehyung walked in the room and noticed you, looking so innocent and lovely. He walks over to the bed and crawls to land a kiss on your cheek. You simply smile, invested so deeply in your book.
He goes into the bathroom to get changed, coming out in just his short, tight black boxers and no t-shirt. His hair falling into place perfectly and effortlessly. He was just perfect. A beautiful canvas. He layed in bed, facing you while he places soft kisses on your neck. Trying to act 'innocent" knowing that it will always never mean anything close to innocent.
"mm.." you hum softly. His hands sliding up your shirt as he gently pinches your harden nipple.
You moan gently in response.
He connects his mouth to yours, deepening the kiss. You guide him to lay back on the headboard. You continue to kiss his mouth before leading kiss down his neck, then to his abs. Going farther and farther down till you get to his boxers waistband. Gosh you loved these boxers he always wears. You can see his print through the thin fabric. You gently slide off his boxers. His long and hard shaft springs up. You gasp in shock. It looks so tempting. You wrap your hands around his cock and slowly start to stroke it. Taehyung groans as his head drops backwards to the head board, eyes closed and mouth dropped open.
You start by putting just the tip into your mouth, your tongue swirls around his pretty pink tip. You look up at him, admiring his reaction, making you want to go deeper. Your mouth starts to go deeper, fitting the whole thing, touching the back of your throat. You gag but that doesn’t stop you. Your hands still wrapped around the base as you slide your tongue around him. “Good girl keep going…just like that.” He says, breaking the silence.
You moan in response. You love it when he calls you that, it drives you crazy and he knows it.
He shifts, you know that he’s going to cum soon. He keeps groaning which only makes you want to keep going. You quicken the pace, your hands stroking him and your mouth and tongue still swirling around his cock.
Taehyung lets out one final groan before he releases into your mouth. His salty cum mixing with your saliva. He looks at you while your collecting all of his release. “Swallow it all.” He says sternly. You look up at him making eye-contact as you swallow every last drop. You slip his cock out of your mouth as you open your mouth to show him. He leans over to grab your waist as he lifts you up and turns you over, practically man-handling you. Your back hits the comfy mattress as he lifts your shirt leaving you only in your thin panties.
He starts kissing around your breasts, his left hand needing your left breast while he kisses your right breast. He’s like an animal. His boxers are long gone, somewhere on the floor across the room. He guides his kisses down to your panties, noticing a wet patch. He doesn’t waste any time to rip them off and dive in. His tongue licking your slick folds while he groans. Your back instantly arching at the sudden movements.
He immediately starts attacking your pussy. Eating it like he’s never been fed before. You moan so loudly the neighbors could probably hear you. “Fuck Tae..” You moan out loud.
He sneaks one finger into your dripping pussy, curling it at just the right angle to make you go crazy. Your hand find his hair immediately to tug on. He looks up at you, you look a mess. Hair messy, mouth dropped open, hand gripping the sheets. He loves the sight, he loves knowing only he has this effect on you.
He couldn’t take it anymore he needed to be in you. He abruptly stops making you groan as he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you closer. He takes no time to line up his cock at your folds, rubbing his pre-cum all over you. He didn’t even care if you were ready. You practically couldn’t process what was happening, everything happened s.o quickly.
Taehyung slides in with force, giving you no time to adjust. You moan so loudly, your hands looking for anything to grip onto. The pace he sets is brutal. You look at his face, he’s biting his lips with his teeth, eyebrows furrowed. He looked so hot. He leans closer to you, letting you grip his shoulders. “Tae…slow down..” You protest. He doesn’t listen. He even quickens the pace. Your mind goes blurry, you can’t process anything. He grabs your wrists and pins them on either side of your head still fucking you relentlessly. You can tell he’s been craving this. “Stay like this okay? Hm? Gon’ be a good girl for me right? Say yes.” You nod your head, your eyes closed as you lay there letting him use you. “Word y/n, words.”
“Yes. I will be.”
He lands a harsh slap to your face, causing your cheeks to be even more flushed before he flips you over abruptly. Taehyung puts his cock back into your folds still keeping the quick pace. Your legs give out, laying flat on the bed as he slaps your ass and leans onto your back. He grabs your face and kisses you harshly. He pushes your face into the pillow as he fucks you.
You feel your release coming, you look back to see him so focused on the both of you connecting.
Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, soaking Him and you. Soon after he cums to. His groans and skin slapping fills the room as you lay there defeated. Taehyung lands soft kisses along your back before getting up and gently turning you over.
“Wanna take a bath?” He says breaking the silence. You nod as you try to sit-up. You wince in pain and he quickly picks you up and carries you to the tub.
Your laying against his back as he helps wash you up, the scented bubbles and bath salts making the bathroom smell like lavender. You lay your head on his shoulder, taking in all of his presence. He keeps giving you soft kisses along your collar bones. The only source of light being the candle on the tub shelf.
your thighs were pressed flush with your chest, his hands positioned right below your knees to keep you in place. his cock had never felt so deep in your cunny, reaching new depths as his tip kissed your cervix.
“so good baby, god you’re sucking me in.”
his thick cock was plunging in and out of your sopping pussy, filling the room with wet slapping sounds. jeongins hips slammed into yours with one final thrust as his seed came out in warm white ropes, filling you to the brim. you moaned out, leaving scratches along his back as you felt your boyfriends load fill your little cunny. his pants sounded ragged in your ear as jeongin caught his breath, slowly pulling out until his tip was just barely inside your pussy.
he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling all the way out. his cum immediately oozed out between your folds, coating your pussy in his seed. but jeongin was quick to bring his fingers to your lips, collecting his cum with his fingers and pushing it back into your sore cunt.
“jeongin-ngh!” your breath was caught in your throat at the feeling of his long fingers being plunged deep back inside you. a smirk spread across his lips as your boyfriend curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot he always seemed to find with ease.
“gotta keep you full baby, don’t want you losing a single drop.”
The first time you met Taehyung was at Noir 47 in New York. It was his birthday, and your boyfriend had begged you to go to a club on a Thursday night to meet his friends even though you had work in the morning.
Mark, your boyfriend of about seven months at the time, was in the kitchen telling you about the pranks he and his high school group got up to, mentioning Taehyung's name repeatedly in the wildest stories. Half an hour of laughter and nostalgia later, Mark sighed and looked into your eyes with that sparkle that only going back in time can give.
"You're going to love the boys." All you were thinking about was what cocktail of medications you'd have to mix in the morning to get you up and dressed by 7 a.m for work.
It's eight o'clock at night in New York, and spring is cruel to your velvet dress and your freshly styled hair. Noir 47, to your surprise, is rumbling and shaking the sidewalk and the others in line. Mark looked at his watch for the second time in fifteen minutes.
“Babe, don't you think we should go? We've already been in line for an hour and they haven't shown up.” You tried to sound as gentle as possible while your fingers froze.
“They're almost here. They told me they were pre-gaming at this bar two blocks away.” He, like you, was a little irritated by the situation but didn't want to show it. When you're an adult, absence and not being on time become a shameful offense. A mockery more than a coincidence.
"Call them again, Mark. I'm freezing my ass in here."
A taxi pulled up near you, and three men got out of the vehicle, laughing and talking loudly over the reverberating bass. One of them, the tallest, spilled out of the cab to pay and retrieve a half-empty bottle of champagne. Unlike everyone else who would be entering Noir, he was wearing a full suit and a skinny black tie. You assumed he was the birthday boy.
When they saw Mark, everyone screamed and pounced on the poor man, who no longer had a trace of annoyance in his bushy eyebrows. You smiled politely as you waited for your turn to introduce yourself, lips pressed together, hands frozen, hoping one of them would have the influence to let you in sooner and get a espresso martini or two shots of fireball asap.
Mark looked your way with the same nostalgic glow as that morning, this time overflowing like the haze of a good perfume. You had never seen him so happy in your life. He look back at the men towering you.
Ash, Hobi, and Taehyung.
Ash was thin, lanky, and had the same quirks as your boyfriend: lifting the corner of his lip when he said something sarcastic and closing his eyes when he smiled. He was quiet, a little awkward, but he held your hand with both of his when he greeted you and bowed slightly like you were royalty. He was sweet.
Hobi was like the dispersion of color on a CD, shining with his words, his clothes, and the hilarious mullet he wore next to his sunglasses in the middle of the night. All you thought about were men in the Okefenokee and the Everglades swamps. But Hobi looked like he was going to sing that night.
And Taehyung, well, what could you say about the birthday boy dressed like Timberlake in Sexy Back, like a member in Inception, with that stupid suit for a club where you go to dance techno and absurd house until the pills wear off.
Taehyung was the only one who dared to hug you when it was time to introduce himself. He smelled of Tom Ford's Oud Wood, and your heart leaped, begging you to come back and smell the collar of his shirt again.
“You’re an angel for giving Mark a chance. Our boy would have remained a virgin if it weren’t for you.” His hand rested on his chest, the silver rings glinting in the dim lights of the neon sign behind you.
You smiled, remembering your boyfriend was by your side, and held his hand. Not as a sign that you were truly the lucky one to have Mark, but to remind your body that it couldn’t be warm because of other people’s gestures, glints in their eyes or their $900 dollars perfume.
Hobi made sure you all got in faster, of course. That was his role in the group, Mark explained. Wherever Hoseok arrived, it was open doors and flattery everywhere. It wasn’t that he was popular or a millionaire. It’s was the fact that if you saw a man of his statute, you couldn’t say no, period. It didn’t speak well of your knowledge of the niche and the phantom counterculture to which Hoseok supposedly belonged, you knew he was important, you had to know. I mean, look at the guy. Of course he has a collaboration with Boiler Room or an art exhibition at Grotto.
You'd been in the basement for an hour, the colored lights like pebbles touching the burning skin of your neck. You didn't know if you were dancing to the pounding bass of the music or because the drugs weren't asking for anything else. You didn't want to take drugs tonight, but Hobi offered something short and effective.
"Just to relax. In a couple of hours and a cup of coffee, you'll be as good as new. I do it all the time, trust me," he said, placing the small piece of paper on your tongue.
And now here you are, you don't know if a couple of hours have passed, you only know that the masses of skin, colors, and the acrid, sweet smell of sweat filled your brain with a thin, warm liquid, and your hips, like waves on rocks, rushed from one side to the other. You no longer knew where your boyfriend's friends were, or how many times you sang happy birthday to an excited and coked-out Taehyung, who had left his jacket on a chair and undid two buttons on his sweaty shirt. Right now, it was just you and your boyfriend.
Your hands rose to the ceiling in pure ecstasy, your sweaty forehead pressed against Mark's, and despite the loud music, you could hear his ragged breathing and could see under the dimmed light his eyebrows knitted together. You gently bumped his forehead with yours to get him to look at you, but Mark's dose was slightly stronger. Still, you felt his hands squeezing your waist, his nails digging into the velvet and controlling the way your hips bumped.
It was confusing, you slowly realized that Mark's hands were actually on your shoulders, and the large hands venturing toward the gem on your dress were coming from behind you. You wanted to look back, you wanted to stop this weird creep, you wanted the stranger's hands to bring you closer to the sudden inhale of Oud Wood and the devilish laugh of the man who dared to brush your hair away from your neck and whisper to you.
"Angel, let's take Marcus outside. I think he needs to get away from Heaven for a bit."
You don't know if it was the warm air in your ear, the fact that in his drunken clumsiness he dared to say that to you with his hand pressed against your lower back, or the fact that you weren't a responsible girlfriend and realized your boyfriend was falling into your arms instead of dancing. But sobriety was starting to crash.
"Take my hand, the door is near," Taehyung shouted, his pupils like two lunar eclipses. Although his serious demeanor made you nod and not hesitate to take his hand as you held your boyfriend to lead him out the door.
Outside, the same chill as the beginning of the night continued, this time welcoming the sudden shock to your sweaty back. Mark leaned against the wall, groaning in confusion at the bright streetlights. You saw your hand, the rough trail of warmth heat still intertwined with Taehyung.
You both let go, as if the touch suddenly burn.
“Fuck,” Mark groaned and rolled his eyes.
“You okay, man?” Taehyung asked, taking the weight off your arms to help his friend sit on the edge of the pavement.
“Yeah, I just haven't messed around like this in a long time.” A slow, awkward smile appeared on his lips as he brushed his hair back. “Sorry, you shouldn't be here looking after me.”
“No worries, MK. Besides, I needed a smoke anyway.”
“Sorry, man. I love you, you know?”
“I know, don’t be sorry. You were the one who won in the end if you’re not taking drugs to go out.” They both laughed, and Mark ducked his head again, fighting the dizzying waves of the night.
“I’ll call an Uber and you'll feel better after a shower, okay, babe?” You said again, your voice thick and a little distant. As if you weren’t you, as if you were still inside with Oud Wood's hands tracing long circles with his thumbs on your waist.
“Yeah, thanks.”
You and Taehyung stood up, both of you barely looking at each other. You smiled with your lips pressed together, both hands glued to your phone as you opened the app. Taehyung lit the cigarette in his lips, guarding his defeated friend and then your features. He was studying you, analytical, objective.
“He’ll be here in five,” you swallowed, trying to ease the heaviness in the air.
“Your hair is all over the place,” Taehyung laughed softly, blowing smoke in your direction. You lowered your head and ran your hand through your hair, holding the strands at least until the Uber arrived.
“Here, let me help you.”
Taehyung tighten his cigarette between his lips and positioned himself behind you again. His fingers began caressing your forehead, grabbing each loose strand, then moved up to your ears. His fingers curled around the ones at the nape of your neck, and the gentle tug made your lips part. You looked at Mark, at his hunched back, his rugby-rimmed arms. So lost and gone.
“You’re so good to have given M a chance.” Taehyung’s voice sounded deep and sweet, like the liquid in your brain. It reverberated in your gut.
“You said it before, but I’m the lucky one.” You tried not to tremble as Taehyung braided your hair and tugged lightly. You looked back at Mark's silhouette, but all you could focus on was what you couldn't see.
The braid was arranged on your shoulder; you held it to see how neatly he'd braided the hair. Taehyung returned to your side, throwing away his cigarette butt. The sweat on his back and armpits had slowly dried, but the shirt still clung to his strong, agile body. The fastest runner in the whole town of Redwood, Mark said while chopping vegetables that morning, the one who protected Mark from the bullies at school.
"I haven't heard from Mark in months, you know? It's because of you."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "I'm not going to apologize because Mark doesn't want to talk to you guys."
“That's a compliment,” he murmured holding his hands up, and you relaxed your shoulders. “It's good he has you now. You really are like an angel.”
You don't know why you didn't respond or why the two of you just stared at each other, waiting for…something. Anything. A gesture, a word, an exhale.
The Uber stopped on the street. The liquid holding you had evaporated. And with a forced smile and a handshake, you saw Taehyung for the last time.
You didn't hear from him until two years later, around the same time. When you heard his hoarse, caustic voice on your husband's phone, you realized you still felt that same guilt, that same feeling that you'd lost and wanted to play again.
“Tae wants us to go to his house in Cali for the weekend; everyone will be there.”
This time, you didn't think about the next morning or the hangover; you just smiled at your husband and said you'd like to. Hell, you needed a little sun and some mojitos. Some torture, something sweet and the lovely confusion.
➥ Sister's Boyfriend, MMF, Friends to Throuple-adjacent
➥ Contains: Kookie & Clyde 2k26, "Pfft, Loser" lite on dark mode, olympic level manipulation, Chris burning in horny hell and it's kinda entertaining to watch, gratuitous amounts of voyeurism, fujoshi fanservice, polyamorous wholesomeness midfuck as if no one in this story is deplorable
➥ Reader discretion advised: See the masterlist for the full disclaimer about this project, general warnings, and request guidelines. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk.
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Dubcon (m)
➥ The night he crashes at your place, Chris experiences firsthand why you and Jungkook are cited as next of kin in Satan’s last will and testament.
*a/n: Song Mingi and Park Jongseong, you're NEXT on my crossover bullshit 🫵 This is a threat.
“It’s like this, my man—” Jungkook explains like a seasoned professor before he takes a long-ass drag from the joint. “If there is one thing we as a couple consider as essential as water, it’s vitamin C and vitamin D, if you catch my drift.”
“I don’t think I do,” Chris says, blankly looking at him.
“Cunt and dick. Jesus…” Jungkook sighs. “Which is why we ab–so–lute–ly cannot do that long-distance shit you’re doing. When I see my girl, it’s on sight.”
“Sometimes I wonder how you survived your peak hormonal years,” you smirk at Jungkook on your lap and steal a kiss from him, then turn your attention to Chris. “I mean, sure, maybe we’re too horny, but you’re in drought for months at a time. It has to be taking a toll on you, right?”
“Not really,” Chris nonchalantly answers from the couch he’s sprawled on. “We’re saving ourselves until marriage.”
Being super high is no obstacle for an explosive reaction. You and Jungkook burst into such loud and heartfelt laughter that the windows slightly vibrate.
“Bless your cute ass heart. I really needed that,” you dab the corners of your eyes.
“What’s so funny?” Chris asks in confusion.
“The fucking JOKE!” Jungkook wheezes. “Give a choking hazard warning next time, motherfucker, I almost died.”
“Why would it be a joke?” Chris’ frown grows sharper and sharper.
“STOP, I’m gonna pass out!”
“Babe, drying yourself with water is just the best, isn’t it?”
“My IQ stats are slashed by ten percent; can I get some fucking context here?” Chris demands rather than asking, now visibly annoyed.
“I mean, you know…” you respond, your face starting to fall with each word you utter. “The senior fraternity bingo she’s doing.”
“We had never pegged you for a cuck, though,” Jungkook chimes in.
“She WHAT?”
Chris’ scandalized protest freezes the super-entertained giggles in the air and stiffens you and Jungkook harder than rigor mortis. You exchange a brief look, clueless as to what the right response would be.
“I’m… sorry. We really thought you knew,” you solemnly speak.
“WHO THE FUCK KNOWS SOMETHING LIKE THIS AND STAYS GODDAMN CHILL?!”
“How would WE know about the terms and conditions of your bedroom?! We thought you had an arrangement or something!” you counter. “We actually highkey judged you for simping to that extent. Ever heard of a spine?”
“And that’s coming from us,” Jungkook assumes his supporting actor role again.
You can literally see Chris’ world crumbling before your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to broach the subject when he doesn’t have most of his wits intact. You and Jungkook cannot produce one comforting thing to say, so you move to Chris’ couch in unison to cage him in hugs. He doesn’t look sad, per se, just distraught.
Well, massively.
“I gotta talk to her,” he attempts to get up.
“Absolutely not. Sit your ass down,” Jungkook pulls him back and confiscates his phone. “Do it in the morning. You’re trashed as fuck.”
“Wanna go set her car on fire?” you offer Chris, not at all jokingly despite the mischievous smile.
“I wanna get back all the time I fucking wasted on her, actually. Can you make that happen?” he heaves a resigned sigh. He thinks he’s mumbling, but his updated honest thoughts about your sister are very much audible: “What a cunt…”
Oh, it elates you.
You shoot Jungkook a look, and he knows exactly what it means. This man doesn’t need a hug right now; he needs… something else. Has needed since he turned old enough to vote, apparently.
“I’m sorry,” you pull Chris closer and peck his left cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”
“It’s not your fault,” he shakes his head.
“But it is.”
You peck his right cheek.
“I could have helped you…”
You peck the corner of his lips.
“...not waste any time at all.”
Chris thinks the entire neighborhood’s power current has rerouted to pass through him when you take his lips within yours. He can’t even remember the last time he kissed a pair, and now he’s tasting… your lips?
In your living room?
In front of your man?
He’s kissing the very thing that made him cringe with guilt for years?!!
OF COURSE he thought about it, alright? Yes, he so wondered what it would be like to touch you, shut the fuck up with your gloating. Who in their right mind wouldn’t? You think it’s been a walk in the park to be around you and function normally? When you don’t seem to understand the concept of fabric regardless of the season, ALWAYS walking around practically half-naked around him? ALWAYS getting way too physical with your stupid hugs and dumbass pecks and godforsaken handholding? Jungkook is his best friend. Your sister is his girlfriend. He hasn’t exactly been abstaining because of his sainthood, thank you very much; it was because of his goddamn problem.
You have made it IMPOSSIBLE for him to get hard without thinking of you!!!
“I can’t give you all that time back,” you caress his face as he experiences the hardest internal meltdown of his life, “but I can make up for it if you let me.”
“H–How ar…? Er erhm,” Chris clears his throat. “How so?”
“Don’t you wanna see things in action instead of your browser for once?” you smile at him, half reassuring, half up to no good. “No pressure to do anything at all. Just tell us everything you missed out on, and we’ll perform it for you.”
“Unless we got the wrong idea, of course,” Jungkook interjects. “If not, we can just call it a night, and—”
“NO!”
It takes conscious effort not to crack at the vehement protest. You’re trying not to combust with endearment when Chris looks super flustered, yet still trying to play it cool. Even Jungkook is pursing his lips to stop himself from laughing behind him.
“You’ve put me on the spot. I… I can’t think of anything,” Chris holds his head in his hands. “Why don’t you just… get started, and I uh… I’ll catch up.”
You peck his lips one last time and press on his chest for him to get comfortable. Jungkook brings the gigantic floor cushion in the corner and fashions a makeshift bed before Chris like a fluffy stage. He then pulls you into his lap, and you start serving the appetizers when he kisses your faded smile.
You and Jungkook have a pretty memorized rhythm that works like a charm every time. Memorized but not tired. You take off his shirt first. You feel his heartbeat on your lips when you kiss his firm chest. You trace his tattoos with your tongue, and the lower you go, the harder he throbs between his legs.
“What would you like to watch first, Your Highness?” you address Chris.
“Suck his cock,” he orders with a surprising lack of pause, his eyes out of focus like he’s hypnotized.
“Only if,” you drag out the syllables, taking your sweet time ridding Jungkook of his gray sweatpants, “you take yours out and stroke it to me.”
Jungkook turns you towards Chris and starts to slowly strip you. Watching each piece of garment getting peeled off your body one by one, Chris wipes the phantom drool from the corners of his mouth. You stare into his soul as he unbuckles his belt and grabs his cock, lazily stroking it for you. Your clit throbs when you see the clear drops pooling around his slit, and you can hear your man’s soft chuckle behind you.
“Need you,” Jungkook breathily whispers into your ear. “Show him why it gets me hard as fuck to just think about your mouth, baby.”
He pulls you into a kiss, caressing your face with his thumb, then gently guides your head down. You get comfortable between his thighs, arching your ass as high as you can for a better view, then take him so deep down your throat that his eyes flutter close with intense pleasure. You also hear the tiny gasp coming from your right side.
The first drops of jealousy start bubbling in Chris’ chest.
He has the hardest time believing he isn’t hallucinating this—the sight before him is something right out of his horniest fantasies almost to a T. Then again, what he has witnessed with his own eyes and ears over the years doesn’t leave much need for imagination. And it was happening so frequently that he went full-on paranoid you were deliberately waiting for him to be around to have sex.
The worst was last summer when the four of you went to that beach house. He listened to you being insatiable all night long, ZERO regard to how loud you were being in the dead of the night, and it went on for such a long time that at one point Chris actually found himself by your bedroom door. The most his lust-induced courage let him do, however, was get a peek and jerk off.
Baby, spit in my mouth.
Baby, fuck me deeper.
Baby, spank my ass.
You CLEARLY couldn’t get enough; just why the FUCK couldn’t he walk in to shut you up with his dick in your mouth? HE COULD HAVE HELPED!!!
“You don’t have to hide anymore,” Jungkook laughs, then beckons Chris with his eyes. “Come watch closer.”
“Y–You knew?” Chris suddenly stops breathing.
“You’re not exactly slick,” Jungkook speaks, lovingly looking at you while caressing your hair. “Last summer was by far the nastiest sex we had, and we have you to thank for it. Should’ve done it the next morning, but better late than never, I guess. Right, baby?”
You nod in acknowledgement and let him go with a loud pop, then extend your hand to Chris to come join you. He takes a few seconds to process that this is indeed real, almost scared that everything’s going to vanish into smoke if he moves, but eventually decides to accept the invitation. Even as he’s on his knees, he tries to convince himself he’s just dreaming, but the warmth he feels on his skin is very much real.
“I’m not the only one that makes this happen, am I?” you smile, one hand caressing his cheek and the other his cock flushed dark pink.
Chris can’t answer, nor can he look at either of you. It makes your heart swell for some reason. Jungkook holds his chin and makes him look up, and Chris finally learns whether lip piercings are a nuisance while kissing.
If it’s Jungkook in question, turns out it isn’t.
As Jungkook deepens the kiss, you strip Chris bare, hugging his waist and kissing all over his back. He holds your hand languidly working his cock and kisses it, on the brink of disintegrating into his atoms already, and when he hears your voice in his ear, it damn near happens.
“Where do you wanna cum, baby?” you softly peck his neck. “Tell me.”
“Everywhere,” he moans.
Jungkook pulls you close to lay you down, then gets behind Chris, holding his cock to press against your entrance, movements unrushed and vigilant as if he’s trying to prevent a bomb from going off.
“Annoyingly beautiful, isn’t she? Gets me so fucking mad sometimes,” he scoffs while stroking Chris to the very brink of painful hardness, then begins his instructions. “Now, when I let you go, you will push as deep as you can, and I’ll eat her pussy. Your job is to fuck her really good and hold back until we finish her. Think you can do that for me?”
Chris fervently nods. He doesn’t know if he can, but it’s at least a noble pursuit to die on. When Jungkook lets him go, his gaze meets yours, and he gets this overwhelming urge to cry. He doesn’t know why that is, either; he’s the furthest thing from sorrow now. You hold his hand when you notice the thin coat of mist on his eyes and yank him close.
“You gave each other a fucking tonsil examination there. No kisses for me?”
Both men lazily laugh, and Chris grants your wish. It’s just like how you’ve always imagined it. His lips are like moist clouds, and you’re a bit confused, unable to tell if you’re getting wet or falling in love.
“Don’t hold back,” you urge him. “Whatever feels good, just go for it. I don’t care if it hurts me.”
The knot in his throat had just disappeared, but you want to have a foursome, apparently.
At long last, the moment of truth. Nervous out of his mind, Chris starts pushing in, trying to think of everything he can distract himself with so as not to have an untimely accident. Jungkook has given him a task, and he cannot afford to fuck this up right now.
“Oh, FUCK, that’s wet,” he stops mid-thrust to calm himself down.
“Nice and slow,” Jungkook encourages. “Now listen to this.”
He licks a clean swipe across your clit, and you throb so hard that you almost push Chris out of you. Jungkook’s munching quickly turns sloppy with loud slurps, and Chris feels like he’s witnessing a miracle. You. Under him. Moaning your lungs out. Your eyes rolling back. Sinking your nails into the cushion.
If he fucks up, he fucks up. He wants this more than anything else.
He rams himself into you, and the second his tip hits that slippery end, he makes a sound that can only be described as unholy. He feels incredible. You’re all swollen inside, squeezing him even tighter with each thrust, and the tighter you clench, the deeper he slips. He can’t believe you’re moaning for him. For him. It’s his name spilling from his lips, begging for the same things that you begged from your own man when he was fighting for his life.
Chris, spit in my mouth.
Chris, fuck me deeper.
Chris, spank my ass.
CHRIS!!!
Everything suddenly becomes too much. Chris is getting crushed under a flood of urges, all wanting to claim the top spot. A part of him solely exists to make you feel good. A part of him wants to take whatever he wants from you. A part of him wants to hurt you. A part of him wants you to hurt him. A part of him wants to choke Jungkook to death so he can have you all to himself. A part of him wants to treat you like a whore to be shared between them.
Meanwhile, you lose sight of the assignment completely because you can’t fucking think anymore.
One hand about to break Chris’, the other tangled in Jungkook’s locks pushing him deeper into your pussy, you luxuriate in the otherworldly amounts of delight. You’re probably going to overdose in a bit, but you don’t care. All that matters is the firm wetness on your clit and the pressure building so deep inside you that it’s rising all the way up to the pit of your stomach. Three strings of moans swirl in the air and wrap tightly around each other, composing the most obscene soundtrack to pleasure. Panting, thrusting, sweating, screaming…
You come undone and lose all sense of all reality.
Chris feels proud. He has not only lived up to the expectation, but fucked you so good that you’re floating in the air now. He made this happen. He was a part of this. It wasn’t something he not-so-randomly stumbled upon just because he couldn’t put a leash on his morbid curiosity.
When he realizes he can now go for whatever feels good, his entire body catches on fire.
Jungkook notices they’re about to hit the finish line any moment now. He grabs his phone and hits record to capture the exact moment Chris leaves this cruel world because, well…
That’s the entire point of tonight.
“Smile for the camera, baby,” he smirks, getting a good shot of your fucked out face first. “I want a souvenir from our first time.”
Chris hears first time, and his mind screams at him with a loudspeaker because that means…
There will be others?!!
“I’m–I’m not gonna last,” he pants, breathing so erratically that he sounds like he’s about to choke. “Fuck, this is…”
“Tell me you love me, Chris,” you hold his face. “Tell me you love us.”
“I LOVE YOU, FUCK!!!”
An inhuman sound escapes his throat, and he completely falls apart. He’s so beautiful when he cums that it makes Jungkook as mad as he gets when he looks at you. When his high-pitched, throaty moans simmer down two octaves lower, Chris collapses on your chest, catching his breath in the crook of your neck as you stroke his dampened hair. He sounds so tired. He looks so tired, and you want to give him the best night’s sleep of his life.
“Come, let’s go to bed,” you try to scrape him off of you.
“I… I c— I can’t move,” he mumbles.
“Just because you came once doesn’t mean I’m not gonna suck your dick. You know that, right?” you shoot a verbal epipen up his ass.
He lets out a faded chuckle and manages to get on his feet with Jungkook’s help. As the two men make their way to the bedroom, you stay behind for a few seconds with Jungkook’s phone in your hand to send a particular video to your sister with a very loving massage attached to it:
I wouldn’t hold onto any hopes of a proposal if I were you. Keep the fake ass good girl act for someone else to break your hymen. He’s ours now.
Remember how you ruined my childhood? We’re even now, cunt.
“Babe, you coming?”
You block the number, turn off the phone, and get into bed to get sandwiched between the men who own a little more than your heart. You’re on cloud nine. When everything goes according to plan, the blisters you get on the way don’t mean shit anymore.
Chris doesn’t need to know that you and Jungkook have been rehearsing for tonight’s script for a little over a year now.
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to make Chris to release the "Kookie" selfie.
