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Sweet Nothing with Shua

pairing: Joshua x reader

tags: angst, fluff at the end, boyfriend Joshua, non-idol!au, mentions of childhood issues and disordered eating

summary: Graduation just got over and you’re all but happy. You watch as each of your friends leaves and as you leave. Change has never been easy for you, especially when it triggers all the instability of your childhood. But there is one person you will always find yourself coming back to- Joshua. After three years of navigating life and university together, he's your home. And now you get to literally come home to his sweet nothings in your new house and your heart will heal itself from the pains of life.

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: Inspired by the lines "Outside, they're push and shoving, You're in the kitchen humming, All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing" from Taylor Swift's Sweet Nothing.

masterlist | Let me know your thoughts and feedback.

Change, it was a rude temptress. It lures you in with the promise of shiny places, bright lights and adventures. It’s a hoax. It takes you to uncomfortable, odd places with random strangers that make you miss home.

Change takes your closest friends away from you.

Change is the reason you're walking back home on a cold unfamiliar path, toward a driveway you don't immediately recognise and to a house currently filled with cardboard boxes.

Life had turned around in less than a month's time. You'd known it would change, you had all been preparing for it. Yet none of you were ready for the real thing. Even when you had sat through every packing session with your friends-some packing things into a suitcase, some in cardboard boxes, talking through a million memories and making promises of holding on.

You watched as your friend group, the one that had fit perfectly like pieces of a puzzle slowly began drifting away. Except now each of you carried a part of the others' pieces too. Some moving seas away, some moving just far enough that it still feels like uncharted territory.

You had told yourself you would be brave about this. You would not let this affect you and trigger all the childhood issues attached to it. For the most part, you held onto your words. You'd cleared your dorm and moved bunches of cardboard boxes to a new and unfamiliar place. You had said your greetings to unfamiliar faces, in a stiff outfit at your new place of work. You said goodbyes to two of your closest friends at the airport in the span of a week, without breaking into a single tear.

But the emotional baggage had come out in other ways. In a cowardly move, you began pushing away your boyfriend. The one you had moved in with just weeks ago. The same boyfriend who had helped you through multiple hard times in the three years of university, all with his polite smile and kind heart. The very thought of his kindness made you hurt with guilt. He did not deserve the pain you were putting him through, especially when you both were supposed to be celebrating this fresh and beautiful chapter of your relationship. That is why you stop five steps in front of the new apartment that now belonged to the two of you, looked at his car in the driveway and decided to turn back and take another walk around the block. You needed to clear your head so that you could stop hurting him.

Shua watches from the kitchen window as you turn around and walk away. He leans back on the cabinet and rubs his eyes with his hands. He has tried everything to comfort you and give you the space you needed. He understands that this has been a hard time for you, it has been for him too. He's had to say his own goodbyes and adjust to new places too.

Joshua understands better than anyone else just how hard this might be for you. He also knows that he can't make this right or tell you to process your emotions in a different way. But it is breaking his heart to see you hurt yourself in the process. He's been waiting for a whole week to hear you say more than three words at once. He has had to sit in front of you and watch you refuse every bite of food for a week and it breaks a piece of him every time.

He has been trying his best to help you, from beside and from afar. It felt unfair to him too but he knows this has been triggering all the issues from your childhood and your pushing him away had nothing to do with your relationship at the moment.

Joshua sighs another time, he should not let himself get sucked in his insecurities too. He knows you will come back to him, he knows you will tuck yourself into his arms in sleep like you do every night. And he knows he will pull himself away before you wake up so that you don't feel more guilty than you already do. Till your guilt and pain are ready to be let out, Joshua will wait on the sidelines and remind you that he is still there and your life will continue.

The smell. That is the first thing you notice when you enter the house an hour after deciding to walk around the block. You got sidetracked at the park and ended up staring at trees as you processed everything. You now felt it all but also felt too numb. The emotions and thoughts had gotten too much and you desperately needed to cry in the comfort of your home. That's why you walked back to find Joshua.

You still remember the first time you let yourself cry in his arms after a very painful call with your dad and how he'd held you delicately through it all. He was the first person you had cried in front of since your parent, and it felt good. To finally be held as you broke down, to be reminded that you aren't entirely broken. It felt like home when he hugged you so tight that your heart healed itself.

With tears brimming in your eyes as you look around the dimly lit house, unable to move from the doorstep, the smell gets to you. It smelt like chocolate and flour. You couldn't quite place the smell but you knew someone had baked something and something had definitely burnt at least once. You looked around the living room but all you could hear was a faint hum.

You walked toward the kitchen and a silhouette came into view. Joshua standing, with his back to you, working on something on the counter as hums a song like an angel. He was wearing your old pastel pink apron around his waist, you could see multiple stains on his plain white t-shirt. You smiled as you saw how ruffled his hair was and there was definitely flour on the strands. The smile on your face forms automatically and so do the tears.

It hits you in a wave, the realisation that no matter how hard everything else in the world gets, and how many things change, Shua is here in your shared kitchen, humming as he tries his best to bake you muffins. That's all you need. That's everything he needs- the sweet nothings. The whole world can push you and hurt you, but you'll find yourself in Shua's arms, doing nothing and feeling the joy of everything.

The tears are now pouring like a monsoon rain down your cheeks and you take three big steps before tapping him on the shoulder.

Shua is startled by the sudden tap on his shoulders and he turns with the whisk still in his hands from the mess of a muffin he was desperately trying to make- for the second time that evening. He's even more surprised when he sees you pull him into an embrace. He stays still hands open wide, a whisk dripping chocolate sauce in one hand, as he watches you hold to him so tight he could barely breathe. He stayed still, feeling your sniffs against his chest, your tears soaking up his shirt.

Shua moves very slowly to place his hand around you such that he is cradling your head. He rubs circles on your scalp as you lean into him further and cry your heart out. His heart clenches as he cannot bear to see you so worn down and hurt, but another part of him is glad you chose to come back to him and let out your emotions. Shua understands that with love comes a lot of pain and he cannot expect it all to be gone just because the two of you are in love. All he wants is for the two of you to always come running back to the other when everything and everyone else makes life hard.

You cry till you can't physically anymore. The two of you stay there the entire time, unsure of the time. After you broke out into full-blown sobs, you feel tear drops dampen your hair, you know Shua was tearing up too. He always did. Neither of you could stand the other crying.

So you both stayed there, crying out the pain- the pain of growing up, of moving on, of letting go, of facing your demons, of looking at the start of your life, of an uncertain future and the fear of losing. Shua and you held each other through the fears, a promise to hold on and help each other heal. To hold each other through the storms, the soul deconstructors and through the trials and tribulations of life.

You finally feel lighter and pull yourself back to see his face. Shua is already looking down at you with his sweet smile and eyes that light up your soul. his hair is messy with flour tangled between strands and you finally notice the whisk that has been dripping chocolate sauce all over the kitchen floor and is thoroughly drenched in your tears and chocolate stains.

"Hi." Your voice comes out in a croak and both of you end up cracking up.

"Hello to you too ma'am." He says, his honey-like voice filling up the cracks of your heart.

"You're making something?" You ask feigning innocence as he gives you an embarrassed smile scratching his hair.

"I was trying to bake muffins."

You let out a small smile, "For me?"

He nods and you feel your eye tear up a little more. Shua's eyes widen with worry.

"Babe no. Don't cry. I can clean this all up and maybe we can order real muffins. Or whatever you need. Please don't cry again, my heart can't take it. And your eyes will certainly not be able to take anymore crying." He says in such a state of pure fright and panic that it endears you wholly.

You shake your head, laughing. "No Shua I am not crying don't worry."

"Thank god."

"But I think we should try to salvage these muffins and clean the kitchen." He nods looking around the mess he has made.

"And maybe you should change your t-shirt first." You say as you try your best not to stare at his drenched shirt, sticking to him in all the right places.

Shua smirks, "Oh why babe, is it tempting you?" He asks knowing full well the answer.

You roll your eyes as a blush creeps up your cheeks, "Oh, please it's nothing new."

He hums and strokes a finger across your cheek, "Uh-huh. Is that why you're red as a tomato."

You mock glare at him and pull away from his touch. "If that's how you want to play it, then I'm gonna leave you to clean this mess on your own." He groans. "And, you will sleep on the couch tonight." You add and he looks terribly scared now that it makes you grin.

"Alright alright, let's order good food, clean this up and head to bed." He says and pulls you into an embrace which you graciously acept.

"Thank you." You hear him murmur and look up at his face questioningly at him.

"For coming back to me." He says with a sweet smile and you lean forward to kiss him in response.

As if you would go anywhere but home.

campfire - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.7k warnings: the tiniest mention of blood at the beginning request prompt: "What are we to each other?"

A/N: Thanks so much for all the support for my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I'm doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

"I’m bleeding," you wince. You sit down on one of the rocks, turning your foot to assess the damage. A small trail of blood leads from your ankle to your pinky toe, and you let out a little whine. "Gross."

Who’s idea was it to go on a hike at 5:30am, anyway? 

Yours. Right. It was your idea. 

You’d thought some of your friends would join you – you’re on a week-long cottage vacation. Why would you not immerse yourself in the nature all around you? But only one person had signed up to tag along – the one you thought liked you the least. You don’t even know if you would consider him a friend.

The hike had been mostly silent, awkward even – and then, like an idiot, you’d gone and tripped. 

Seungkwan wastes no time, immediately crouching down on the ground in front of you. He motions for you to put your foot up on his knee and you oblige, wincing again as you move. You can’t help but watch his face as he assesses the injury. His hair is messy from the wind, and parts of it are falling across his forehead as he leans forward. He looks kind of beautiful in this element, you have to admit. All sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You try and fail to suppress a shiver as his fingers run across your skin, and his eyes meet yours in concern. 

"Did that hurt?" 

You feel your cheeks heat up as you shake your head no, before breaking his gaze and looking back down at your foot. You watch as he pulls off his backpack, resisting the urge to comment on the fact that he has a first-aid kit in there (because of course he does), even though that’s what you do. You and Seungkwan are just that – two people who happen to have the same friends, and bicker over the dumbest shit. But right now, with the way he looks so soft and concerned, his lower lip between his teeth in concentration, you can’t find it in you to make a snarky comment. 

You’ve been finding it harder and harder to do that lately, if you’re being honest with yourself. You don’t know when it started to happen, but the teasing between the two of you just makes you feel warm all over now, instead of irritated like it used to. You’re starting to resent the way he makes you smile.

“This will hurt.” Seungkwan’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you nod, unable to find your voice as he presses a piece of peroxide-soaked cotton onto the affected area. You hiss at the pain, and his free hand gives your calf a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “It’s not sprained,” he tells you, “but it’s going to hurt like a bitch. You should be okay to walk on it, but we should definitely head back.”

He starts packing up his bag again, and you wish that you could find something, anything to say. You know a thank you is in order, but all you can manage is, “Since when did you become an expert in sprained ankles?”

Seungkwan snorts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch while he continues to put his things back in his bag. “Being the captain of the volleyball team has its perks, I guess.”

“And co-captain of the badminton and table tennis teams.”

That makes him look up. His eyes are wide in surprise, and you try to ignore how flushed you’ve suddenly become under his gaze. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “I didn’t know you even knew that about me.”

You can’t help the defense that shoots back up as you retort, “What do you mean? It’s all you talk about. We get it, you’re sporty.”

“Right.” His lack of response to your quip has you flustered. He simply hums, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. “Can you walk on your own?”

You feel stupid all of a sudden. “I think so,” you respond, dejected by the weird energy between the two of you, and you can feel Seungkwan’s eyes on you as you stand, testing the weight on your foot. “I’m good, just go slow.”

You don’t talk to Seungkwan for the rest of the afternoon. He disappears when you make it back to the house, and all you get from him over lunch are some smiles and a giggle when you guffaw at Mingyu tripping on his own shoes. You spend the afternoon hanging out with Vernon and Seungcheol in the library, ankle propped up as you read in silence. 

A campfire is on the agenda for dinner, and you're told to sit back and relax as things are brought out from the cottage. You’re entertained from your seat by Seokmin and Mingyu as they begin cooking, and the rest of your group comes out one by one. The sun is beginning to set, and the sky is a beautiful array of blues, pinks and purples when Seungkwan sits in the chair next to you.

“How’s the ankle?”

“It’s fine,” you manage, and he nods. He settles in, eyes on the fire, and you can’t help but gawk at him. He chose to sit next to you?

The evening passes without much more chatter between the two of you. Your other friends are entertaining as always, and the time slips away peacefully until Jeonghan announces his early retirement, and others begin to follow suit. The fire is dwindling when Chan, Soonyoung and Seokmin announce that they’re headed in, leaving just you and Seungkwan, and you’re about to ask Seokmin to help you back to the house when Seungkwan interjects.

“I’ll help them.”

You flush at the chorus of oohs and ahhs that echo through the remaining group, but Seungkwan doesn’t even flinch, already maneuvering his chair in front of yours. 

“Come on,” he pats his thigh, “let me see.”

“Seungkwan…” 

He hums, focused on the task at hand. It’s quiet now as he stops fidgeting with the bandage, moving instead to gently massage the sore area around the wound. His touch is gentle but firm, and you feel electricity shoot through you. You’re holding your breath, and you feel a little dizzy; there are goosebumps on your leg from where he’s touching you. It’s not cold out, so you know you can’t blame it on that. It’s quiet, and all you can hear are the murmurs and occasional laughter of your friends in the distance, and the dying fire. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out harsher than you mean for it to, and you wince.

Seungkwan looks up at that, his fingers stilling on your skin. He’s silent for a moment, processing. “What, helping you?” He sounds incredulous, and you shrink a little bit back into yourself. He begins to gently press his fingers into the muscle of your ankle again, his eyes falling back to his work as he adds, “Didn't know you thought so lowly of me.” 

“It’s not as if you like me either, Seungkwan.” You wish you could pull your ankle away from him without it hurting, wish you could find a way to hide from whatever this conversation is about to be — but you can’t. 

Seungkwan shakes his head, the disbelieving huff of a laugh escaping his lips as he does. “Unbelievable.”

You cross your arms, defensive. “What?”

Despite being obviously annoyed, Seungkwan is gentle as he sets your foot back on the ground. “Nothing. Just let me help you back to the house, alright?”

You stare at him in disbelief as he stands, moving his chair back to its place before he holds out an arm to you. “No. What? You’ve got to be kidding me, Seungkwan.”

He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight as looks away from you and mutters, “Fine. Get back to the house on your own.”

“That’s not…” You fight back the sudden urge to cry, blinking rapidly. “Seungkwan.”

Something in your voice makes him turn back to you, and now his own arms are crossed in defense. “What, Y/N?”

“I…” You don’t even know what you mean to say, really, and it takes a moment before you whisper softly, “What are we to each other?” 

You can tell he’s surprised by your question. His eyes widen as he straightens. “I… I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “But I can’t figure out why you don’t like me.”

His admittance lingers in the air around you, and your mouth falls open as you process. “Do you like me?” 

Seungkwan’s hand lifts to run over his face as he sits back in his chair. He’s embarrassed, you realize, and your heart stutters over itself in your chest. “I mean, yeah, but I just meant — you think that I hate you or something, but I don’t, even though you don’t like me —“

“I like you,” you blurt out, cutting him off before he can ramble any further. “I thought that you didn’t like me because you’re always so competitive and want to beat me at everything, and you never seem excited to see me or try to talk to me at parties, so I just… gave up on trying to make you like me.” 

Seungkwan lets out a whine. “You intimidate me! You’re good at everything and yes, I’m competitive, but you’re an equal match and that’s so hot. But I thought you didn’t like me, so I didn’t try, either.”

“Oh my god,” you say after a moment. 

You stare at one another in the dim firelight for a moment. And then you both begin to giggle.

“Are we going to ignore that you called me hot?”

Seungkwan stumbles a bit, the arm he has slung around your shoulders tripping you up a little bit too, but he quickly catches himself. You bite back a smile. “Yes. Yes we are.”

“Why? I think you’re hot, too.”

Seungkwan fully stops the two of you now, turning to you with an exaggerated pout. You can just make out his features in the light from the cabin up ahead, and he looks so cute you could cry. “Don’t tease me,” he whines.

“I’m serious,” you tell him honestly. He looks away, but you can see the shy smile that’s formed on his face. 

“Fine,” he says as he begins to walk again. “We can talk more about that inside.”

@wheeboo @tae-bebe @waldau @eoieopda @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @lvlystars @seohomrwolf @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @christinewithluv @wqnwoos @iluvseokmin @darkypooo

"do you think our kids will have my eyes?", mingyu says.

you blankly stare at him, ignoring your phone now. "kids?"

"yeah, i mean...", mingyu shrugs. he's about to say something when it hits him. "oh my god, we've never talked about having kids, did we? i mean, i really want kids, if that's okay with you. shit, i-i'm sorry."

it's cute, actually, how his ears turn pink. talking about having kids isn't something you do just about 8 months into your relationship...

"baby, it's okay...", you put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "i do think our kids will have your eyes. and maybe your cute lips too."

...but then again, how could you not be so in love with kim mingyu to have your whole future planned already?

mingyu smiles at you. "no, i hope they have your lips. but i want them to have my skin tone!"

Synopsis: Poor Jeonghan becomes the unwitting target of the jocks teasing when his glasses break. But luck is on his side when your dad owns an ophthalmology consultancy.

Nerd!Jeonghan x Popular!Reader

You were popular, the kind of popular that had people always surrounding you, especially the athletes from college. Your days were a whirlwind of social interactions and academic commitments. Afternoons were reserved for working at your dad’s ophthalmology consultory, a place where you swapped your lively college persona for a more professional demeanor.

Balancing these two worlds wasn’t easy, but you managed. Mornings were filled with classes and social events, where you were often the center of attention, whether it was at the latest party or simply in the cafeteria. Afternoons, however, were different. The consultory was a place of calm and precision. Here, you were respected not for your popularity, but for your skills and dedication.

You were chatting with the girls from your team, laughing about the latest gossip, when suddenly you heard the jocks—the athletes who were also your friends—heading to the back of the classroom. You glanced over, puzzled, and saw them shaking Jeonghan's shoulder, mocking him about his glasses.

"What happened to your glasses, Jeonghan?" one of them taunted, snickering.

Jeonghan, visibly annoyed, muttered, "You broke them yesterday, remember?" His glasses, you recalled, had been patched together for months, a testament to his reluctance to replace them.

The jocks laughed louder, and your eyes narrowed. You knew you couldn't just stand by and watch. You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to where the commotion was happening.

"Hey, knock it off," you said firmly, stepping between Jeonghan and the jocks. "What's the matter with you guys?"

One of the athletes shrugged, looking a bit taken aback by your intervention. "We're just messing with him, no big deal."

"It's a big deal if you're breaking his stuff," you shot back, glaring at them. 

you began, but before you could finish, Jeonghan had already picked up his things and bolted from the classroom. In his haste, a few papers slipped from his backpack, fluttering to the floor.

You quickly gathered the scattered papers, watching as Jeonghan's figure disappeared down the hallway.

[...]

As you stretched your legs before the match, your focus was interrupted by the sight of Jeonghan passing by. His eyes were squinted as he watched the match, his attention clearly caught by the action on the field. When his gaze met yours, you couldn't help but offer a friendly wave, hoping to brighten his day even just a little. To your surprise, he returned the gesture with a small smile.

However, before you could react further, Jeonghan suddenly stumbled and hit the ground. You widened your eyes in concern, immediately halting your stretching to rush over and help him. It seemed like he had lost his footing or perhaps his vision had been temporarily impaired by the sunlight glinting off the field.

"Are you okay, Jeonghan?" you asked, kneeling down beside him to offer assistance. His smile faltered slightly as he rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "I'm fine, just got a bit dizzy," he mumbled, trying to brush off the incident as nothing serious.

With a playful scold in your tone, you quipped, "Your glasses are getting you into trouble again, huh, Jeonghan?"

You couldn't help but add a teasing edge to your voice as you gently chided him. After all, it wasn't the first time his glasses had caused him inconvenience.

Jeonghan chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, seems like they have a mind of their own sometimes," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

As your friends called for you to join the game, you flashed Jeonghan a quick farewell before hurrying off to join them.

Though you were eager to join in the fun, your mind couldn't help but linger on Jeonghan's situation.

You made a mental note to check in on him later.

[...]

As Jeonghan entered the classroom, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious without his glasses. They had caused him nothing but trouble lately, and he was almost relieved to be without them, despite the blurred vision.

But then, his eyes fell upon a small box resting on his desk, and his curiosity overcame his apprehension. Could this be some sort of prank? Or perhaps a gesture of kindness?

With cautious fingers, Jeonghan lifted the lid of the box, half-expecting it to explode in his face. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of sleek, brand new glasses nestled within, accompanied by a piece of paper.

His heart skipped a beat as he unfolded the paper, revealing the precise measurements for the glasses—measurements that had slipped from his backpack just the day before. 

Jeonghan's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the familiar surname—the same as yours. 

He slid the glasses carefully onto his face, feeling the weight of the frames against his temples, and the world suddenly snapped into focus, after days in blur. As he turned around, his eyes adjusted to the newfound clarity, and the first sharp thing he saw was— you.

vernon x gn!reader — lighthearted fluff, teasing as a love language, vernon is a nerd

plot: vernon is in a flirty mood. that’s literally it.

“don’t you think it’s a weird saying?”

on your right, vernon hums interrogatively without taking his eyes off of the tv.

“the guy just told her ‘i love you to the moon and back’. i think it’s a weird thing to say.”

this time he turns his head towards you. partly out of interest for your last words, but mostly to grab the bucket of popcorn you’ve been hogging.

“you’re right, how dare he declare his love to his wife? such a weirdo…” he scoffs as he grabs a handful of popcorn, slightly frowning at the realization that there were a lot more last time he had the bucket on his lap.

his unserious reply calls for more drastic measures, so you grab the remote and pause the movie.

“i’m just saying, why the moon? why not the sun? it’s much farther.”

vernon takes a couple of seconds to ponder over your observation, face completely still except for his active chewing.

“good point. if it were me, i’d tell you i love you to GN-z11 and back,” he remarks, but immediately notices that something is not clicking in your brain. “it’s the farthest galaxy from earth. well, that we know of at least.”

“oh wow… you’re such a nerd,” you chuckle, “you’re telling me you just woke up one day wanting to know what’s the farthest point from our planet and looked it up?”

your puzzled expressions look almost similar in that moment, although provoked by two very different things. to vernon, none of his words are worth such a dumbfounded reaction.

“…yeah? is this what i get for trying to be romantic? bullying?” he replies with an air of fake offense. “nevermind, i guess i only love you to the supermarket and back then.”

the gasp you let out is so loud it almost makes him flinch and knock the bucket over. but that gasp was nothing compared to the way you suddenly slump down on him, fully taking him by surprise.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! i love your nerdy flirting, i would die if i had to live without your fun little facts, i’m so serious!” you exclaim, hands on his cheeks to force him to look at you. “i love you to that galaxy with a weird name and back, i swear! now say it back please.”

it’s not that vernon doesn’t feel like continuing this fake argument just for fun, it’s that he physically cannot with your pleading eyes staring right into his.

“i’ll forgive you if you let me finish the popcorn…” he starts, pausing until you’ve nodded in agreement, “and yes, i love you to GN-z11 and back, of course i do.”

it takes all your physical and mental strength to not tell him how cute he looks with his cheeks slightly squished by your palms. so instead, you channel this affection into a loud kiss on his lips, which he extends by placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, applying more pressure on your mouth.

when your lips part, your eyes are opened a bit wider than usual, still surprised by the intensity of his kiss; which he notices with a slight smirk.

now laying on top of him, you prop yourself up on your elbows, a bit out of breath:

“they need to discover a farther galaxy. this one isn’t gonna be enough,” you blurt out, and watch his smirk morph into a genuine smile that brings a light blush to his cheeks.

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED <3

❖ i am all of you // lee jihoon

woozi x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: requested by @mirxzii, established relationship, producer!woozi, scriptwriter!yn, hurt/comfort

warnings: pet names (babe, darling), food mention

summary: on the days you feel exhausted, lost to the clouds of fear and fatigue, you wonder whether anything in the world will ever be fine again. not to worry, though. because jihoon always finds you, and he brings you home.

Jihoon kind of misses you. 

Okay, that's a lie, because he actually misses you a lot, because even though you're right here and you say hello to him in the morning and you eat your meals together and you say “I love you” to him at night, you're still not… here. 

You get like this, sometimes, where you're all stuck in your head and he can't get you out. Anything he says doesn't seem to register, not really, because you'll hum in response before drifting away again to somewhere he can't reach. 

“Y/N?”

Jihoon knocks on your door, gentle. You emerged from your room to have breakfast, but you've been stuck inside ever since, and, well. It's like he said. 

He kind of misses you a lot. 

“Jihoon?”

“Are you okay in there?” he asks. “Just checking up on you, babe. I haven't heard from you in a while.”

“I'm okay,” you say back, and even though you're only on the other side of the door, you sound distant. “I'm just tired, that's all.”

He hums, sceptical. “Are you sure? Can I come in?”

“I don't see why not,” you say, and he opens the door and cautiously peers inside. 

You’re lying in bed, pillows propped up behind your head, quite literally doing nothing other than staring emptily up at the ceiling. When Jihoon enters the room, you look over in response to the sound and wave at him from the bed looking confused but also very, very exhausted, and something in his heart twists sadly.

He walks over to you, leans over, and presses a hand to your forehead. You look up in confusion, going a little cross-eyed as you try to see his hand on your head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for a fever,” Jihoon responds matter-of-factly. He takes his hand away, presses it against his own forehead before feeling yours once again. 

“Hey, hey, I'm fine,” you say, waving his hand away. “I'm not sick.”

“Then why are you in bed?” he says. “It's so sunny today, Y/N. Normally, you'd be the one pestering me to get out of bed so we can go on those walks that you love so much. What's wrong, Y/N? Can you please tell me what's wrong?”

You fall silent, looking away. 

See, he thinks he kind of knows what's wrong. 

Not the exact reason, of course, but he knows that you're getting this tired and withdrawn from him because there's something in your life that's making you overwhelmed. Whether it's a situation that's happened or something you fear will happen in the future, if it scares you enough then you'll end up retreating in this way. 

Jihoon knows it's your way of coping when things get too much, but it frustrates him, because all he wants to do is take care of you but you won't let him in. 

“Please,” he says. Gently, simply. “Can you tell me what's wrong so that I can help?”

So he asks. He asks, and waits so, so patiently, silently begging you to please let him in. 

You slowly shake your head. 

“Nothing's wrong,” you say, and then shrug, like everything's fine. “I just need to take a nap.”

“I had to wake you up at noon for breakfast, today,” Jihoon points out, frowning. “And it's four in the afternoon. Why do you need a nap?”

You just shake your head again. “I just do.”

He opens his mouth, ready to refute, but you abruptly pull the covers over yourself and bury your head into your pillow again. A clear sign you want to end the conversation. 

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets, and Jihoon sighs. 

“I'll let you know when dinner is ready, okay?” he says, and you make a soft noise in reply. He looks over at you again, before walking out of your room and closing the door. 

───────────── ⛅

It’s only thirty minutes later that he knocks on your door again.

He can’t help it. You two aren’t exactly the clingiest couple in the world: what with Jihoon’s work and your busy life, you can’t really afford to be so codependent. There have been days where you barely speak to each other, both absorbed in projects that take up all your time and leave you unable to indulge in the typical cuddly affection that other couples take part in.

This is what happens, he supposes, when a music producer and scriptwriter decide to date. Not that he minds, because he loves you, and he knows you love him too, and neither of you mind the lack of physical touch because often, the knowledge of that love is enough.

Just because you’re not the clingiest doesn’t mean that he likes not spending time with you, though.

Especially when you’re right there.

“Y/N? I’m coming in,” he says, and opens the door before you can answer. You’re lying in exactly the same position that he’d left you in, and you look over as the door opens again with a mildly annoyed expression on your face, as if Jihoon was interrupting your very precious time of doing absolutely nothing.

The mild irritation melts into confusion as you spot the things he’s holding. “Why did you bring your laptop with you?”

“Laptop and chocolate,” Jihoon emphasises, holding up the bag of chocolate coins in his other hand as he pushes the door shut with his elbow. “I’m here to do my work. And give you chocolate. Move over, will you?”

You give him a curious look, but still obediently shuffle over in bed so that he can climb in and sit there beside you, back against the headboard, opening up his laptop and immediately clicking on his emails. He doesn’t look at you, seemingly absorbed in answering whatever is sitting in his inbox, the bag of chocolate plopped onto the covers between you two.

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon hums in response.

“What are you doing?”

He glances at you briefly, and pats your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to drag you into doing anything. Just pretend I’m not here, okay?” He goes back to his work, and then adds, “Oh, and eat the chocolate.”

You furrow your brow, mystified by his behaviour. This is… weird. You’ve had episodes like this before, where the foreboding lump in your throat joins forces with the anxiety that sits, ice-cold, in your chest, and you end up with a bone-deep exhaustion that leaves you terrified to do anything at all. Every time, Jihoon seems to understand, leaving you to your own devices to work through the fatigue until you feel better. He might bring you soup, or remind you to brush your teeth, but never anything like this.

The soft click-clacking of his keyboard is quite soothing, you’ll admit, but it’s still not quite enough for you to stop teetering on the edge of this crushing exhaustion and finally sleep.

“Jihoon,” you murmur, looking up at him again. “Jihoon, seriously, what are you doing?”

His fingers stop moving, and he looks over at you once more, before looking at the untouched bag of chocolate coins. Wordlessly, he opens it, unwraps one, and presses it against your lips. 

“I’m feeding you chocolate coins,” he says, and something about the deadpan way he says it makes you smile, allowing him to push the chocolate into your mouth. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No, I can see that,” you say around a mouthful of sticky, warm sweetness. Hm. Eating it makes the weight in your chest feel a little lighter, actually. “I just…”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at you, but there’s no unkindness in his expression. He unwraps another chocolate for you, and you dutifully eat it, letting the overwhelming sweetness coat your teeth as you melt it down in your mouth, making the most of the taste.

“What are you doing here, though?” you ask, as your boyfriend deposits the metal wrappers on the bedside table next to him. “Babe, if you’re here to take care of me… it’s okay. I’m fine.”

He looks at you again, and smiles. “Silly. I’m not here to look after you.”

Wait, what?

“You can do whatever you need to do,” Jihoon continues, as he goes back to his laptop and starts click-clacking away again. “Rest, sleep, try to turn yourself invisible, whatever. You do you, darling. I’m just here because I want to spend time with you.”

“Jihoon,” you breathe out, touched. You are certain that there are stars in your eyes. “Jihoon, I love you.”

He chuckles, and finishes sending off the email. He jostles you around in bed for a moment, pulling you close until you’re resting against him, and though the position is uncomfortable, you don’t protest.

“I love you too,” he says, patting your head affectionately. “Now, don’t worry about what I’m doing, alright? Just let me spend time with you.”

Jihoon may pretend otherwise, but he really is soft. He gives and he gives and he gives, always, and that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s giving you all of him, under the pretence that he’s doing this for himself but you know him, know him like the other half of your heart, and your chest squeezes at how gentle he is with you, especially now. When you’re at your most vulnerable.

And instead of getting frustrated at your distance, at how far away you were floating from him, he brings your back down to Earth, pretending it’s all for him but you know, you know that he’s bringing you back to safety for you.

Pressed up against him, leaning into his side, you finally let yourself cry, the hot, stinging tears tracing paths down your cheeks. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, and instead pulls you closer, fingers threading through your hair as you cry quietly against him until you tire yourself out fully and there are no tears left for you to cry anymore. 

It’s kind of cathartic—freeing, the way you let yourself succumb to the exhaustion, comforted by the knowledge that Jihoon is there beside you as your tears die down, and you lie there beside him, taking deep, shaky breaths, heartbeat finally slowing down.

And at last, you close your eyes and sleep.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @melodicrabbit

Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself. 

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix. 

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire. 

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute. 

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy. 

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp. 

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow. 

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.” 

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart. 

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan and Jeonghan laugh at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water. 

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all. 

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean. 

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess). 

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze. 

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon. 

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances. 

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters. 

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly. 

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward. 

“They’re handling the situation, your High–” 

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe. 

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares. 

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is. 

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?” 

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option. 

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself. 

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with  equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up. 

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father. 

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back. 

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.” 

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.” 

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain. 

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes. 

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold. 

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.” 

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.” 

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice. 

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here. 

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself. 

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?” 

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now. 

You wait with baited breath. 

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.” 

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle. 

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.” 

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends. 

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship. 

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.” 

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.” 

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember. 

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen. 

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul. 

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one. 

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel. 

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold. 

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?” 

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you. 

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in. 

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did. 

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you. 

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake. 

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work. 

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things. 

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands. 

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away. 

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet. 

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself. 

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place. 

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters. 

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is. 

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you. 

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind. 

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation. 

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink. 

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!” 

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.” 

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.” 

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel. 

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.” 

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was. 

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?” 

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths. 

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word. 

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this. 

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still. 

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument. 

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.” 

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause. 

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.” 

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway. 

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head. 

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience. 

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?” 

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull. 

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant. 

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?” 

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.” 

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?” 

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?” 

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest. 

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit. 

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt. 

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long. 

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level. 

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?” 

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.” 

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard. 

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope. 

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.” 

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion. 

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.” 

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed. 

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour. 

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising. 

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew. 

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime. 

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops. 

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another. 

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable. 

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support. 

“I did.” 

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.” 

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.” 

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip. 

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it. 

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence. 

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship. 

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water. 

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever. 

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table. 

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat. 

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men. 

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open. 

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong. 

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command. 

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves. 

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map. 

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow. 

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.” 

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.  

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either. 

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker. 

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?” 

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile. 

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face. 

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.” 

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs. 

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest. 

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock. 

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein. 

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long. 

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach. 

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted. 

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself. 

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing. 

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support. 

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch. 

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place 

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!” 

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet. 

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have. 

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet. 

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again. 

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel. 

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth. 

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back. 

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms. 

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline. 

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room. 

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs. 

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day. 

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such. 

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head. 

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye. 

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either. 

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan. 

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone. 

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside. 

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through. 

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study. 

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle. 

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment. 

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same. 

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this. 

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands. 

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over. 

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get. 

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats. 

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings. 

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash. 

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest. 

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes. 

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard. 

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed. 

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore. 

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone. 

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.” 

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons. 

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this. 

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17. 

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling. 

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy. 

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship. 

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him. 

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life. 

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face. 

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck. 

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot. 

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest. 

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly. 

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.” 

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—” 

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks. 

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic. 

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts. 

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat. 

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing. 

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding. 

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent. 

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation. 

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed. 

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature. 

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly. 

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says. 

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land. 

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself. 

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects. 

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies. 

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan. 

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause. 

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.” 

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy. 

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests. 

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum. 

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall. 

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’. 

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway. 

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain. 

There was something you wanted from him. 

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight. 

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky. 

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face. 

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face. 

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.” 

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever. 

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either. 

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person. 

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway. 

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head. 

So you pulled the trigger. 

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry. 

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway. 

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you. 

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly. 

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve. 

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.” 

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you. 

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back. 

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out. 

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks. 

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right. 

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher. 

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them. 

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized. 

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch. 

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said. 

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention. 

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging. 

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop. 

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows. 

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices. 

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side. 

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand. 

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups. 

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer. 

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make. 

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size. 

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again. 

“I’ll do seven!” 

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks. 

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm. 

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left. 

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits. 

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you. 

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here. 

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley. 

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market. 

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father. 

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand. 

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall. 

“Are you alright?” 

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze. 

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own. 

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe. 

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas. 

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless. 

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean. 

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.” 

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market. 

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.” 

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality. 

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most. 

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market. 

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known. 

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to. 

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks. 

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air. 

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you. 

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it. 

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway. 

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him. 

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects. 

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above. 

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand. 

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away. 

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it. 

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh. 

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand. 

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says. 

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck. 

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it. 

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse. 

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.” 

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right. 

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands. 

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent. 

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck. 

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form. 

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs. 

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip. 

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck. 

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing. 

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone. 

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again. 

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving. 

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again. 

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air. 

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all. 

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so. 

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing. 

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back. 

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth. 

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort. 

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of. 

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done. 

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs. 

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck. 

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know. 

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle. 

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense. 

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position. 

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well. 

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?” 

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean. 

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice. 

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours. 

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day. 

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck. 

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat. 

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes. 

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters. 

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this. 

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress. 

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes. 

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt  hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident. 

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?” 

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun. 

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away. 

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping. 

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it. 

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled. 

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab. 

“Make me what? you grind. 

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain. 

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

you finish fixing vernon's tie as he looks down at you with his silly little grin on his face.

"what?"

"this is nice", he shrugs. "i could get used to it."

"me fixing your clothes before you go out to be heartthrob? you have your own stylist for that, you know?"

vernon laughs, turning around to look at himself in the mirror.

"no, i mean...", he tries not to look at you. "having these little moments. the calm before the storm."

it's cute how vernon fidgets with the ring on his small finger while he waits for you to say something.

of course you like it too. of course you were thrilled to know that vernon would also be at paris fashion week and you would get to see him after attending your own show.

of course you're falling in love with him just as much as he is with you.

"yeah, me too", you tell him.

vernon walks up to you, hands shyly resting on your hips now. you're just wearing a simple jeans with the t-shirt he allowed you to borrow that morning, and still he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"you're pretty", he says. "actually, i've been meaning to tell you, you looked amazing yesterday! louis vuitton really suits you."

"thanks, that's why i'm their ambassador."

"no, no", vernon's laugh mixes with yours. "myungho hyung wears it too and i still think it suits you the best!"

"ouch~ i have minghao's number, you know? i'm gonna tell him that when i go back to korea."

vernon smiles when you wrap your arms around his neck.

"i don't care", he shrugs. "i really don't care..."

and he leans forward to give you a kiss.

a/n: vernon at pfw really did something to me. i couldn't help writing this.

THIS GUY CAN SLAM ME INTO HELL I WOULD STILL BE GRATEFUL!!?!

Challenge Me - Chapter 10

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack → PAIRING: Seokmin(DK) x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Mingyu x Afab!Fem!Reader, Seuncheol(S.Coups) x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!), creampie, degradation (name calling: slut, whore), pet names (baby, princess, darling), loads of dirty talk, extremely toxic behaviour by certain members, posessiveness, Daddy!Cheol, voyeurism, masturbation (m & f), semi-public sex, did i mention dirty talk?

→WORD COUNT: 15k (... i have no explanation)

previous ; masterlist ; next

A/N: Uh... hi! Now, while this didn't take as long as the others, this might be the most chaotic and filthy chapter thus far. I had enormous fun writing this and hope you enjoy it too. As I mentioned before... it's truly filthy. And Cheol is toxic af. But you know, in fiction that's fine!! In real life a no no!

taglist: @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghaee, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @learnthisfeeling, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222, @jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan, @human-wthout-dreams, @eburneon, @xiusmarshmallow, @spbrax, @speaknowlwt, @lvlyjisung @yogurttea @bitchlessdino @honeykyeom if you're user is crossed out it means I couldn't tag you! please make sure your visibility is turned on! if you want to join the taglist fill out the form or shoot me an ask!

Chan was over the moon, really. He was grabbing a shirt from his closet, since the only fresh out of the dryer one he had given to you. Slipping into a pair of sweats after, he hummed a tune, feeling happier and more relieved than he had in quite some time. Moving out had been stressful, finding this apartment had thankfully taken away a bit of that stress, but the process of getting everything from campus to here – still a task he definitely found hectic and wished to be over soon. During all this, he had gotten help from his friends, Haknyeon and Yohan, who were living in one of the dorms that hadn’t shut down. He had also kind of hoped for his older brother to maybe come and give him a hand, but sadly he had been too busy with his own nearing deadlines and a job he had to keep if he wanted to stay in that nice studio he rented. So, yes, Chan had been stressed and worn out and now he was just worn out but for the best reason he could think of. You. He smiled to himself, closing the door to his closet now and making his way out of his bedroom – only to see you standing next to his couch (god, he loved that couch) holding the family picture his mum had given him once he had moved out and into the dorms.

“Being nosy?” He grinned, his arms wrapping around you, cheek nuzzled against your neck. You would have probably dropped the picture if only you weren’t completely frozen in place. Your brain was working overtime right now, sorting thoughts, trying to remember if he had ever mentioned having a younger brother, if he had ever said something remotely close to having a younger brother.

Maybe this was funny. Maybe this was all hilarious and the best comedy ever produced, and you just didn’t get it. Maybe you should laugh about it and tell Chan that, hey, by the way, the guy next to you in this picture? I fucked him. Twice. Oh, and also sucked his dick. Just, you know, in case this mattered to you, Channie boy!

Instead, you said nothing. You stared at the picture and tried to make sense of it. Because as much as this might be funny for outsiders, to you this was the worst thing that could have possibly happened.

“Y/N?” Chan asked now, parting from you again only to put his hands on your shoulders and turn you around to face him. “Are you okay?”

“Why- who- who is this?” You pointed at the picture. Chan smiled again, his face literally lighting up and for a second you hoped he would say “ah that’s just this guy that happened to be at the photoshoot because my actual brother couldn’t make it and so we hired someone who looks a little bit like him”. He didn’t though.

“Oh, that? That’s my brother, Wonwoo, he’s a few years older than me and I think he goes to your university!”

“Right,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and cleared it after, pulling a hand through your hair as you slightly turned around to put the picture back where it belonged.

“Is everything-,”

“I know him,” you began. There was no point in lying, you figured, or just not telling him, because at one point Wonwoo would come and visit Chan and you would run into both at them by chance and- well, if you had the chance (and the courage that is) to make that situation just a tiny bit less awkward… you’d take it.

“You do?” Chan raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. You nodded.

“Yeah. I joined his e-sports team at the beginning of the semester and-,” you took a deep breath, both of your hands rubbing over your face, “fuck, okay, I’ll just say it. Chan, I swear I had no idea who you were when I- when this happened, alright?”

“You’re beginning to worry me what is-,” he stopped mid sentence, almost as if he suddenly remembered something.

Judging by the way he now took a step back, with his eyes growing in size every passing second, you could very easily guess what he remembered. A part of you told you to feel bad, to have empathy for him, and for a second you contemplated giving in – only to remind yourself the next second that he couldn’t have known, and neither could you; this wasn’t anyone’s fault and instead of dwelling on and regretting this, you perhaps should just move on and act like it never happened.

“Chan?” You carefully said now, surprised at how calm you suddenly felt. Chan, on the other hand, was not calm.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The girl my brother so desperately wants but can’t have?” Your heart broke a little at that. Did he really have to say it this way? You pressed your lips together and, instead of trying to talk yourself out of the situation and his accusation, you simply nodded. Chan groaned, pulling both his hands through his hair.

“This can’t be happening,” he mumbled, starting to pace up and down the living room. How on earth could this be real? Him being so attracted to his new neighbour and wanting nothing more than to finally do exactly what you had just done, only for this new neighbour to be the girl Wonwoo had been pining after and crying about for the last eternity? It was almost laughable.

“Well, it is happening, Chan. But this doesn’t have to be a big deal, he doesn’t have to know.”

“Oh yeah, he can never find out about this!” Chan turned to look at you again. His face was red if from anger or disappointment or any other negative feeling you couldn’t quite say. All you knew was that he was on the same page as you and that would be enough for now.

“Good. Then I’ll get going now.” The man across from you only nodded, still distraught, and went into the kitchen leaving you to collect your clothes from the floor and finally flee the apartment down the hall and to your own.

-

This had not been your plan. Like ever again. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this familiar place with familiar hands all over you, a way too familiar cock in your mouth. It wasn’t supposed to have you dripping down your thighs, wanting nothing more than for that familiar cock in your mouth to soon fill your needy pussy and fuck you stupid. 

And yet, here you were. On your knees in the office of your Friday lecturer’s office, Mingyu in front of you, his big cock down your throat, hips showing no mercy.

“Told you you’d come back crawling, princess,” he smirked, hands holding your head in place as he fucked down your damaged throat, “knew you would miss my cock splitting you open.”

If you had been in any other headspace you would have probably rolled your eyes because you definitely had not missed him - you had plenty other cock to choose from, but Friday lectures after a stressful week filled with avoiding your neighbor and your best friend and… just trying to somehow maintain a normal life when everything was severely fucked up… it had kind of lead to you wanting someone to take your mind off things. And when Mingyu had walked into the classroom, wearing that stupid sleeveless shirt and the stupid tight jeans, there was only one person you wanted to do the job.

So, there you were now. Choking on his perfect huge cock, your hands on his thighs, tears building up in your eyes as you stared up at his face, the cocky grin having you squeeze your thighs together. 

“God, I missed how well you take my cock down your throat, Y/N. But I missed your pussy even more.”

Pulling his cock out of your mouth now, he had you lifted up and pressed against one of the many bookshelves seconds later, his mouth on yours, kissing you wildly. His tongue massaging yours as his one hand was on his cock, lining it up with your already bare pussy (he had literally torn your panties off the second you had stepped into the office with him) and the other grabbed your braless tit underneath your shirt. 

“O-Oh, Mingyu, f-fuck,” you moaned against his lips when he pushed into you, his lips moving down to your neck, kissing and sucking on your senstive skin and you honestly wondered how on earth you survived all those hickeys you got left and right. 

“Yeah, say my name, you fucking whore,” he groaned, bottoming out and kissing you again, even harsher this time. His hips began moving just as ruthless, books literally falling out from the shelf on impact, your moans getting caught by his mouth, his length feeling incredible inside of you, causing your walls to clench, squeeze him. Mingyu couldn’t help his own sounds, feeling too lucky to have you back around him, to feel your perfect pussy, to have your tit underneath his hand, your nipple in between his fingertips. Too many nights had he spent thinking of you, about how you tasted, how you sounded. And now he was back here, back in this office where it had all started. 

“Cl-close!” you cried out and Mingyu licked your neck up to your earlobe, biting down on it before bringing his thumb to your clit and beginning to draw circles that made your head fall back and another book slip from the shelf.

“Fuck, are you gonna come this quickly for me? You like my cock that much?” Mingyu knew the answer, the cockiness in his voice still having you wrap your legs around him even tighter. 

“Y-yes, I love your cock, f-fucks me so good!” you whined, sure that hearing these words would make Mingyu lose a part of his composure. 

“Fuck, baby, yeah, told you no one can fuck you like me,” He couldn’t help himself anymore, his cock throbbing inside of you, twitching with every word you said, every sound you made. He changed the angle a bit, his hips thrusting up, hitting your sweet spot and making stars appear in front of your eyes. Your nails dug into his shoulders, mouth ripped open as more and more moans escaped you, saying his name like a mantra and finally feeling your orgasm hit you. 

The waves of pleasure made your pussy almost vibrate, Mingyu biting into your neck as he came too, spurts of hot white cum shooting inside of you, making you feel so wonderfully full. He fucked you through both of your orgasms, perfect rhythm and all - until he stopped and parted from you, cock still buried deep inside. His eyes found yours and the cockiness had changed into something else. You gulped down the regret that already started to form.

“Missed you,” Mingyu then mumbled under his breath, his sweaty bangs falling into his forehead and you bit your lip, hand coming up to move them out of his face.

“Did you?” You asked and he nodded, both hands now resting on the backside of your thighs.

“I did, yeah.” 

Nodding slowly, you softly pushed him away, giving him the sign to pull out and drop you back onto the floor. When you landed, you felt your combined releases beginning to spill down and Mingyu was quick to grab some paper towels and wipe them away. 

“I thought after our last meeting you would be… well, you know, not my biggest fan.”

“Why? Because you fucked some of my friends? It’s a free world, Y/N, who would I be if I was mad at you for sleeping with people you want to sleep with?” He carefully got all of the cum wiped away, throwing the towels into the bin by the desk. His words had made your heart somewhat leap - this was definitely a different (and more mature) reaction than Seungcheol or Wonwoo had shown you. Clearing your throat, you pulled your dress back down your thighs, thanking him for cleaning you up in a small voice.

“I guess so. I just- I don’t know it’s all a mess,” you sighed and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Mingyu followed you, he himself tucked back into briefs and jeans too. Instead of sitting down, he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, tilting his head as he looked down at you.

“I agree, it is messy. But it’s not your fault. I know Wonwoo said some shitty things to you, Y/N, and he was definitely wrong for saying them. But maybe cut him some slack - he is kind of in love with you after all.”

“He won’t be after he found out who I fucked a week ago,” you replied dryly, making Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up.

“Who did you fuck?” He asked and you sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other.

“His little brother.”

“You fucked Channie?!” Mingyu’s jaw dropped. You laughed bitterly.

“Well, of course you know him, too. How unexpected.” You now also crossed your arms, looking up at Mingyu whose jaw was back in place, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Of course I know Wonwoo’s younger brother, Y/N. He’s one of my closest friends.”

“Do you always fuck the girls your closest friends have feelings for?” 

Perhaps that hadn’t been the right thing to say. The smile disappeared again, leaving room for a frown. 

“Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t push me away again because you’re scared. Do you really think I don’t know that all of this, all of the fucking around, is because of some sort of challenge you came up with?” 

You sucked in a breath, frozen in place. Of all the things he could have said, you wouldn’t have thought this was one of them. For a moment you contemplated whether to deny all of it. That it wasn’t a challenge and you just liked to have sex with 13 different people in 6 months. But looking at him, seeing how he didn’t judge you, wasn’t mad at you, made you feel like you should be honest with him.

“How do you know?” You asked, your eyes never leaving his face. Mingyu shrugged.

“I kind of guessed. I asked around about you, after we met at the coffee shop. Most of the people I talked to said you were more quiet, even a relationship type of girl. At least until two years ago when you and Jiwoo started challenging each other to do stupid shit, approximately around the time a certain someone graduated and left you two with the knowledge he led both of you on. Does that ring a bell?”

You got up from the chair, the sound of it sliding over the floor making you flinch. 

“Excuse me?”

“I get it, Y/N. He hurt you. He played you and your best friend. Graduated and then let you both know you were screwing the same guy. And instead of talking about it, you came up with challenges that would make you forget, that would get you to heal this wound he created.” Mingyu put his hands on your waist, eyes staring into yours. There once again wasn’t any judgment, just pure understanding. It scared you, the way he got it all so right. 

“I’m guessing the challenge isn’t over yet?” He then continued and you nodded, throat dry and eyes somehow watering.

“No. I still have three more to go.”

Mingyu nodded, hand coming up to cup your chin.

“Then finish your challenge, Y/N. And if you want me, I’ll be waiting.”

Your heart did a leap again and your eyes widened. Did he just- 

“Mingyu, I-,” you started, but he interrupted you by leaning down and kissing you. Softly and without any indication for more. He just kissed you. Lips slowly moving against yours, hand caressing your face. You felt your eyes closing, your hands almost automatically moving up to lay on his cheeks and suddenly you were the one indicating more. You pressed yourself against him, the need to be close to him suddenly so strong. He was right with what he said. You had been different back then, before you had been confronted by the man who had almost broken you and your best friend apart because he loved mind games that much. You had wanted to be with him but he had never called you his. 

“Y/N…,” Mingyu breathed against your lips now, thumb stroking over your cheek. 

“Don’t speak,” you whispered back, closing the small gap once more to kiss him and forget. 

-

Soonyoung was on your apartment floor with several books spread around him. Even though he had wanted to study (after all his extravagant dance school in Europe did not exclude him from the sad reality of a student in South Korea), he had given up about thirty minutes ago, now scrolling on his phone while you were on your couch with your laptop propped on your lap. You hadn’t told him (or anyone) about what had happened with Mingyu yesterday. You also hadn’t returned any of Jiwoo’s calls the past three days, only texting her you were busy and would get back to her after the weekend. Truly, you were sure your best friend suspected something was up, but decided not to pester you about it (yet). 

“Should we order some food?” Soonyoung said after a while of silence and you looked up from your screen and at him. 

“Sure. What are you in the mood for?” 

The two of you decided to go with a simple order of pizza, waiting only for around half an hour to now munch away on the delicious treat. 

“So, what’s up with you, hm?” Soonyoung asked you, back propped against your coffee table, eyebrows raised. You almost choked on your pizza.

“With me? What do you mean?” You asked, trying your best to sound like your normal self. Soonyoung put his pizza down onto his carton and cleaned them on his black joggers. 

“Well, you’ve been staring at your screen for two hours, not getting actual work done. And you’ve barely spoken a word. Also, Jiwoo told me you haven’t really talked to her all week,” Soonyoung looked truly worried, his head slightly tilted to the side. You suppressed a sigh. Of course Jiwoo had talked to him. She had found out about you two becoming close, not exactly jealous but slightly confused as to why you were avoiding her. 

“Fine. Maybe something happened,” you pouted, sinking into your couch, laptop now discarded next to you. Soonyoung looked at you expectantly. Clearing your throat, you felt your heats cheek up.

“I might have… slept with Mingyu again.”

“What?!” Soonyoung’s eyes widened. 

“And after he might have told me he knows about the challenge and is, uhm, waiting for me.”

Silence. Awkward silence. Soonyoung wasn’t even blinking as he stared at you, his mouth dropped. You weren’t surprised by this reaction in the slightest. Sighing, you threw your hands in the air.

“I know, okay?! I know I shouldn’t have slept with him, but I can’t exactly take it back now.”

“Truthfully I don’t really care about you fucking him again, Y/N, I am more concerned about him waiting for you. Does that mean he likes you?!”

“I guess so? God, I don’t know, Soonyoung. He didn’t… we didn’t talk much after that.”

Soonyoung deadpanned at you.

“Did you fuck again after?” 

Instead of answering you took another bite from your pizza. Soonyoung fell to the floor dramatically.

“You are unbelievable, Y/N. I hope you’re aware.”

Oh yes, you definitely were. 

-

Another day passed, and you sat at your living room table eating lunch. You hadn’t talked to Mingyu at all, even though he had texted you. A part of you wanted to forget about what had happened because considering your already confused feelings, this was the last thing you needed. A past fuck-buddy suddenly declaring he would wait for you to finish fucking three other guys. Sighing, you shoved your plate away, wondering if perhaps ignoring Jiwoo had been the wrong thing to do, when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate. It wasn’t a number you had saved and for a second you contemplated just not answering, but did it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss. It’s Lee Seokmin speaking, Choi Seungcheol’s assistant.”

You immediately got up from your chair. What the hell? Why was Seungcheol’s assistant calling you? A strange feeling appeared in your stomach and you tried to shake it off, your hand balling into a fist.

“What do you want?” You finally replied, hoping you didn’t sound too harsh. Seokmin on the other line looked over at the door to Seungcheol’s office, clearing his throat.

“Mr. Choi would like to send you a car to come pick you up and meet him at his office.”

You felt yourself starting to laugh. He wanted to do what? Send you a car? Meet you? Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Does he now? Well, you can tell Mr. Choi that I’m not interested in seeing him. Ever again!”

“Well, Mr. Choi did expect you to say that, Miss. He wanted me to inform you that the job he offered you is still on the table and would earn you 7 Million Won.”

The phone almost dropped out of your hand. 7 Million Won?! Was he out of his goddamn mind?! Anger filled you, anger towards him for thinking he could buy your forgiveness and towards yourself for actually considering the offer. It wasn’t like you desperately needed money, but 7 Million Won wasn’t something to just… turn down. You took a deep breath, contemplating your options.

“When?” You sat down on your couch.

“The car could be there in an hour.” You stood up again.

“An hour?!” 

“Yes, Miss. If you’re not sure, we can also arrange a car to pick you up later.”

“N-no. An hour is fine.”

Hanging up the phone shortly after, you wondered how you always found yourself in situations like this. Maybe because you didn’t know how to say no. Or because you liked to suffer. Liked the thrill of getting into scenarios that were completely unpredictable. 

Judging by the way you ran into your bedroom, eyes scanning over every item of clothing you owned, this situation had been caused by more than just you loving to do the unpredictable. You, or at least a sick part of you, wanted to see him. Even after that stunt he had pulled, you found yourself thinking of him. Missing him. Even yesterday when you had been with Mingyu a part of your subconscious had wondered if perhaps it should have been Cheol you went to for relief. 

The car did show up an hour later. Anxiety spread through you as you walked to the elevator, knowing full well you were wearing sexy underwear under your pencil skirt and low cut, tight fitted, long sleeved shirt. You had dressed to impress and you hated yourself for it. Seungcheol shouldn’t be in your head anymore. You should be over him, should at least try to get over him. Instead you were here in some of your sexiest clothes on the way to see him, the driver nodding at you through the rearview mirror. You smiled with your lips pressed together, your hands tightly clasped together in your lap. Whatever was waiting for you at the office, the only thing you cared about was seeing him, maybe even touching him. Thinking about the last time you saw him, your thighs automatically pressed together. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Wanting a man so obviously immature should be below you! He had taken your call while another woman was sucking him off! He was a child, a stupid, stupid child that did not deserve your infatuation. And yet. 

The car stopped in front of one of the taller skyscrapers, the driver opening the door for you. Your breath was stuck in your throat, thanking the man with a small smile and a nod of your head. It was as if you had been ported back to your first date with Seungcheol. Arriving at the hotel, going inside. Seeing him. Just thinking about the elevator ride and what happened after dinner… you shivered as you walked through one of the revolving doors, your heart beating in your ears. Your bag was safely under your arm, and you hoped and prayed you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. Walking further inside, you saw a tall man standing at one of the automatic gates, his eyes glued to the iPad he was holding in one of his big hands. He was wearing a fitted pinstripe suit, a pair of round specs on his well defined sharp nose. His hair was styled upwards, only a few strands falling into his forehead and when you almost reached him, his head lifted and you looked into a pair of sparkling brown eyes that made you almost trip over your own feet.

“You must be Y/N. Welcome. I’m Lee Seokmin. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.” He bowed to you once and you quickly followed, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“You too, thanks.” You smiled when you were in an upright position again. Seokmin nodded once before reaching out his arm, leading you to the gate that now opened. Walking through it, you tried to somehow convince yourself that you were not extremely attracted to Seungcheol’s assistant. What was it with you and handsome men these days? Could you ever be around, let’s say, mediocre looking people that did not have your pussy flutter just by looking at them? Jesus. 

“Mr. Choi is waiting for you upstairs. Please, after you.” The elevator doors opened and you thanked Seokmin once again, going inside. You watched as he pressed the highest number on the buttons, your eyes widening slightly before looking ahead. Perhaps you were confused about the family business - Jiwoo had never really mentioned what her parents did, nor what Seungcheol was working as. Instead of dwelling on it (maybe it was like Chandler in Friends or Barney in How I Met Your Mother and you just weren’t supposed to know what they did for a living) you waited for the elevator to arrive and finally stepped out when you reached your destination. You were greeted by a grand entryway, luxurious couches on both sides of the room, facing the windows showing the skyline of the city. Flowers stood in crystal vases on the glass tables in front of the couches and there were magazines spread around them. On the far right side stood a small reception where a blonde woman was talking on the phone, bowing her head at you and Seokmin when she spotted you. 

“Please follow me.” Seokmin put his hand on the small of your back for just half a second, but you felt the spot burn nonetheless. Pathetic, really. You blew air into your cheeks, trying to get rid of the thoughts swarming your head. You had gotten laid literally less than 36 hours ago! 

Seokmin led you through a hallway that eventually ended in big wooden doors he now opened. The light coming in through the window was beautiful. It made the whole room look friendly. There was a light brown, wood desk at the side, right next to the huge window. A chair stood behind and a fancy computer on top of it. Countless documents were stacked neatly next to the monitor and you guessed this was Seokmin’s space. You watched him walk to the other wooden door, knocking two times before opening it. 

“Mr. Choi, she is here.” 

You heard his voice only muffled. It still made goosebumps erupt all over. Quickly, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second while Seokmin was still distracted. You brought back the phone call with him, the girl he had on his dick while he talked to you. Brought back how you had felt, the anger, the hurt. The crack in your heart for whatever reason. When you opened your eyes again, the nervousness had made room for just the anger you needed. 

“You can go inside now.” Seokmin once again bowed his head and you smiled at him, before walking inside the office. The door closed behind you and the air inside the big office suddenly felt incredibly stiff. 

There he stood. Suit, but the jacket discarded over the armchair in front of his grand desk. His first few buttons open, suspenders on his broad frame, somehow making him look even sexier than he already was. His hair was styled up, kind of like Seokmin, just a bit more neat. And his eyes were on you the second you had walked inside. His burning, deep brown eyes that almost made you forget all this anger inside of you. 

Quickly, you let your eyes wander the room.

“We’re alone.” You said matter of factly and Seungcheol scoffed.

“Who else do you want here?” He asked, taking a few steps further into the room. You now also saw his tight dress pants, the way they hugged his thighs so perfectly. You swallowed, before looking back into his face sternly.

“I thought I was earning 7 million Won today?” 

The corners of his lips twitched, a smirk making its way onto them. 

“Right. The job. Well, I can’t just hire you without an interview first,” he explained, leaning against one of the armchairs placed on the left side of the room. There were two of them, right across from a couch of the same dark green velvet. You stared at him for a few seconds, the urge to yell at him so strong.

“An interview?” You repeated and he nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and god, how much you wanted to touch him, feel his pecks underneath your fingers, feel the way he breathed. 

“Nothing gets handed to you these days, sweetheart.” 

The word caught you off guard. Your thighs instinctively pressed together. 

“You offered me this job, Seungcheol. Pretty sure that inquires no interview needed,” you shook your head, “I didn’t come here for games, if you won’t-”, but you didn’t get any further, because suddenly he was right there in your space, his breath almost hitting your cheek as his hands were firm on your waist. You felt yourself gasp, looking up into his handsome face.

“I can’t do this, Y/N,” his voice was just a whisper, a desperate whisper filled with so many emotions you felt like your head was about to fall off, “I can’t- fuck, I wanted to call you so many times.”

“Yeah? And would there have been a girl sitting on your cock while you did?” You somehow managed to sound venomous, even though you felt your panties stick to you, your pussy throbbing painfully. Cheol groaned, hands wandering to the small of your back and pushing you closer to him. You didn’t stop him even though you knew you should’ve. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was immature. Jealous. Hearing Jiwoo telling me about you and the challenge… I was so mad. I felt used. And then it dawned on me that I wasn’t the first and most definitely not the last and, fuck, the jealousy drove me nearly mad. I wanted to get back at you, wanted to make you feel the way I did, but it was dumb, so, so dumb.” 

While he spoke he came closer to you, his lips now pressed against your cheek, his fingers grabbing the fabric of your skirt. You clenched around nothing. 

“Y-you took my call with another girl sucking your cock, Seungcheol, what the fuck were you thinking.” Without even really taking notice, your hands moved up, now on his biceps, digging into the dress shirt. He shook his head, lips now on your neck, not kissing you, just letting them glide over your skin, his nose breathing in your intoxicating scent.

“I know, baby, I know I did. Fuck, the truth is I had her waiting there the whole fucking day, hoping you’d call when my sister gave you my card. And when Seokmin told me you were on the line… I swear she was on my cock only as long as you stayed on the line, baby, I swear to you.” 

Pathetic. Was what you should’ve been thinking. And a part of you was, a part of you wanted to push him away and tell him he was sick, but the bigger part stayed right there, letting his breath hit your skin, his hands roam, over your back and finally onto your ass, pushing you even closer, making you feel his hard length against you. And now there was no stopping the moan coming out of you. Right then he kissed you, his lips hot and wet on yours, desperation making both of you part your mouths, tongue finding tongue, a dance as crazy as you both felt erupting between them. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up, crashing into the next wall, making one of the (probably very expensive) paintings fall to the floor. Neither of you cared. Instead he kissed you harder, one hand now moving in between your legs, feeling your wet core, making him groan.

“Fuck, baby, so, so wet, so hot for Daddy, aren’t you?” You nodded rapidly, hands on his face, pulling him closer, kissing him again. Teeth and tongue and hotness, your head was filled with nothing but cotton and him. 

“Shit, I missed you so much,” he breathed against your lips before continuing, his strong arms now carrying you over to the sideboard where he shoved down whatever was on there, placing you on it and getting rid of your panties immediately. He held them in his hand for a second, before he shoved them into his back pocket. 

“God, fuck, pl-please fuck me, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cried out, your hands on his belt and he groaned, nodding the way you did before. He let you open his belt and pants and then proceeded to get out of them, his huge cock springing free a second later when his briefs were down by his ankles as well. You whimpered at the sight.

“Think you can take me, sweetheart?” He asked, hands on your face, kissing down your jaw and you wrapped your legs back around his waist, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you senseless.

“Y-yes, need you to split me open with your huge cock, Daddy, pl-please.” Cheol sloppily kissed your neck, moaning at your words. He loved to hear you beg, loved to hear you call his cock huge, loved to hear you wanting him to fuck you. Quickly, he grabbed the base of his girth, lining it up with your tight cunt, his tip being sucked in immediately by your wet heat. You gasped, hands on his still clothed shoulders. He leaned his forehead against yours as he pushed in further, your cunt apparently still stretched open from Mingyu from the day prior, but you shook the thought off, instead moving your hips to meet him, your pussy taking even more of him now. His groan made your whole body shiver and once he bottomed out, he kissed you again, his tongue in your mouth immediately. It was still desperate, still hot, still crazy. When he did his first thrust your eyes rolled back into your head and the moan escaping you came from deep within.

“Fuck, y-yeah, your tight pussy takes my cock so well, such a good slut for Daddy, just for Daddy,” he murmured, lips sucking on your neck as he continues thrusting, the pain turning into pleasure real quick. You let your hips move with his, head leaned against the wall behind you, the sideboard banging on the floor with every move. Cheol felt like his cock had never been inside a pussy this good. His whole body shook, wanting to paint you white but also to never stop fucking you. Every time your walls clenched around him he felt a little closer to heaven, the sounds you were making more than just music to his ears. 

“A-Am close, Daddy!” You cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and Seungcheol grabbed your thighs, changing the angle slightly.

“Are you gonna cum on Daddy’s cock, baby?” He thrusted even harder now and you basically screamed his name, nodding when suddenly you felt his thumb on your clit, stars appearing before your eyes as you felt your orgasm hit you almost out of the blue.

“F-fuck, Daddy, I- oh my god!” The orgasm made all of your vision go blurry and because he hadn’t finished yet he fucked you right into another one, his lips on yours, your arms tired around his neck, but the pleasure still so strong in your veins.

“Did so well for Daddy, such a good girl, gonna make Daddy cum with your perfect pussy,” his voice was shaking with lust and you clenched around him once again, bringing him even closer to the edge.

“P-Please cum inside me, Daddy, want you to breed me, want you to fill me up s-so good, want your cum so bad, a-ah!” It was almost like a spell, your words. Cheol’s orgasm hit him hard, spurts of thick white cum filling your spent pussy just as you hit your second orgasm, whiny moans making Seungcheol’s head spin.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, baby.” 

His forehead was back to being pressed against yours, both of you only slowly coming down from your highs. 

You felt his sweet kisses before you opened your eyes again. He kissed your cheek and your jaw, kissed your neck and moved up to kiss your lips again. Soft and with so many feelings you were almost sure you’d start crying any second. What had you done? Once again, you had crossed this line, had decided to put your friendship with Jiwoo on the line because what? You wanted some good dick? 

Sighing inside of you, you knew that wasn’t true anymore. There was more to this and if you were smart enough, you would try to figure it out before you did anything else with anyone (read as: Mingyu). 

“Cheol…” You didn’t know where the nickname came from, but it was now out in the open and when you opened your eyes and looked at him, saw the way his eyes sparkled, you felt your stomach and heart jump.

“Don’t say it, please,” he whispered, his hand softly caressing your cheek and you bit your lip, letting your own hands move up and cup his face.

“I won’t. I don’t have to.” You leaned in to kiss him again, his soft lips made for yours, and your heart was beating rapidly just as much as it was breaking. 

Seungcheol had gotten you some paper-towels, helping you clean up and you were now seated on one of the green velvet armchairs, basically twiddling your thumbs waiting for him to come back from wherever he had gone after handing you the towels. You wanted to leave, or at least you thought you did. Leave and use the bathroom and don’t ever turn back. 

When the door opened, you stood up, seeing him walk back inside. He looked at you once the door was closed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Y/N. And I respect your feelings, I truly do,” he walked over to you, stopping when he reached you. He was itching to touch you, but he also wanted to give you space.

“But the truth is, you never asked Jiwoo what she’d think about you and me. You just assumed she’d hate the idea.”

“I don’t even know what I think about you and me, Cheol.” You replied, a slight pain shooting through his heart. 

“I don’t believe you.” He breathed and you sighed, shaking your head.

“It’s complicated, everything is just so fucking complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

Something in his tone made you look up again. There was a certain look in his eyes - a determination you hadn’t seen before. As much as it was hot it was making you nervous, too.

“What do you mean?” You carefully asked, crossing your arms.

“I mean that I took care of it for you. I respect and admire your will to finish the challenge you accepted. As much as I hate to think about you with another man, or in this case, several other men, I don’t want to make you feel as if I don’t respect your wishes.”

He now dared to put his hands on your shoulders, thumb caressing you over your shirt. You stayed silent, mainly because you had absolutely no idea where this was going. He took care of it for you? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“What I am saying is, I found three men you can finish this challenge with. Men I trust, that I know won’t try anything with you after it’s done.”

Your jaw dropped and so did your arms. His words rang in your ears and still needed a while to be processed.

“You- you did what?!” you exhaled and Seungcheol nervously bit his lip.

“Look, I know this is weird, but the sooner you get this over with… the sooner you can tell if you want to be with me.”

You were truly speechless. Seungcheol had found you three men? To sleep with? You had to sit down. The plush armchair was perfect to catch your worn out frame. You shook your head.

“What the fuck? Where did you- what did you? What?” Looking back at him you watched as he now took a seat on the couch across from you. He folded his hands, arms laying over his thighs as he leaned forward, clearing his throat.

“I think it’s the best thing. You get this over with and you’re free from all of your drama, Y/N. Just think about it.”

“And who are these men?” Ignoring his words, you asked the next relevant question. Cheol licked his lips and looked over to the door. Then, with his voice loud and clear:

“Come in!”

You froze in place, watching the door open and two men stepping in. One of them was Seokmin, the other you hadn’t seen before - or you thought you hadn’t. The closer he came, the clearer you recognized him as the guy who had picked you up earlier. Your eyes widened. 

“You already know Seokmin and Vernon. They are some of my most trustworthy employees. And I would say they are handsome enough for you to enjoy them. But, of course, it is up to you.” 

This was ridiculous. But then, what about your life hadn’t been these days? Pressing your lips together, you looked from the two back to Seungcheol.

“That’s only two,” you stated the obvious. Cheol nodded.

“Well, yes. Jeonghan is still on a business trip. While Seokmin is my assistant and Vernon my personal driver, Jeonghan is my business partner. He has his office on the other side of the floor.”

He had really planned it all, through and through, as if it was one of his projects at work. Getting up, you began pacing back and forth, finally stopping and pointing at Seokmin and Vernon that still stood behind Cheol kind of awkwardly.

“You want me to fuck them?” You asked then, making Cheol clench his jaw. He followed you, also getting up.

“I want you to fuck them once. Once and never again.”

“Still. You would know I did it. Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me? You’re an adult, Y/N, you can sleep with whoever you want.”

“Even your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are my employees.”

“So you’re a pimp now?”

Cheol’s eyebrow twitched.

 “Y/N.” 

You sigh audibly, throwing your hands in the air.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Seungcheol. This is absurd! You can’t just go and pick who I sleep with!”

“Didn’t Jiwoo do the same?”

“That is totally different and you know it.” You stretched out your index, pointing at him accusingly. He sighed, pulling a hand through his hair.

“I know what you’re thinking. And yeah, maybe this is a bit about controlling who you’re with before you make a definite decision about us. Perhaps this is selfish and wrong of me, fuck, it most definitely is. But I just need you to understand that I am serious about this, about you. I want to be with you, but I also don’t want you to give up your pride. I understand where you’re coming from, and as much as it may bother me I know this isn’t about me. Asking them to do this for me, to sleep with you, it wasn’t easy for me, and you can still say no, I won’t force you into this.”

With every word he said, you found yourself more and more torn. Because, yes, it was indeed selfish and controlling of him. But then again, if you just did this it would be over. You could continue your life and hope to somehow get back to where it was before the semester started. Swallowing down your doubts and anger, you finally breathed out.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I hope you know this is not a certain yes that I want to be with you after the challenge is completed.”

“Yes. I know.” He dared to walk a few steps towards you, his eyes set on yours and, god, why was he so good looking? So pretty and yet so infuriating. You shook your head, not entirely sure what to do with yourself or the situation.

Seokmin and Vernon were still in the room with you and you shifted your gaze from Seungcheol to them.

“And you’re okay with this?” You asked, unsure. The two men nodded and you sighed, letting a hand run through your hair in distress. Great, they were on board at least. How exactly this was going to go though? You had no idea. Looking back at Cheol, you took a deep breath.

“You’re crazy, I hope you’re aware,” you said. Cheol smiled slightly, daring to softly caress your cheek.

“Crazy about you, darling.”

-

It had been a week. A full week since Seungcheol had told you that little plan of his and you had yet to hear from either of his “employees”. You found it ridiculous, considering you hadn’t even been a fan of the idea in the first place and now they couldn’t even be bothered to call you? 

Coming out of your last class that Monday, your mind was already somewhere else (exams, that is) you almost missed the well dressed man leaning against his car outside the building. Only when he called your name, did you look up. 

“Seokmin?” You asked, surprise displayed on your face. The handsome man nodded, his jaw a little tightened. 

“We need to talk,” he said, opening the door of the passenger seat. You frowned, looking around before finally getting in, your bag safely stored between your legs. He had a nice car. A German brand, you noted. Seokmin got in on the driver’s side, closing his door and finally turning to you. 

“So, uhm, what do we need to talk about?” Watching Seokmin, the way his knuckles turned white as he held onto the steering wheel a little too strong. His well fitted black suit strained around his thighs and you swallowed hard, wondering if he had picked you up to do what his boss asked of him. 

“Vernon and I told Seungcheol we already slept together.” The words took a few seconds to reach your brain and once they did, your eyes widened and you sat up, one hand finding balance on the seat underneath you.

“You did what?!” 

“We are going to the office right now and you need to tell him it’s true.” Seokmin turned to look at you, your mouth hanging open. 

“We are… what? You expect me to lie to him?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it, smart girl.” 

“Woah, no. I can’t lie to him, he will know I am!

The glint in his eyes made you flinch. While he seemed to be a proper young man, sweet on the outside, something slumbered inside him and you weren’t too keen on finding out what it was. If lying to Cheol made all of this go away - so be it. Perhaps he didn’t know you as well as you thought - perhaps he would buy it and you were free. 

“What about the other one? Jeonghan?” You asked as you put your seatbelt on and Seokmin started the car. 

“He’s in it too. Obviously he can’t say he had sex with you yet since he’s still on his business trip, but once he is back…” He began to drive off, your nod going unnoticed by him. While he drove, you allowed yourself to check him out a little more. Whilst you were sure that you wanted to avoid the inevitable complications it would bring if you were to sleep with him - it wasn’t like he wasn’t someone you’d consider if the circumstances were any different. He was tall and handsome, with a face shaped like a Greek gods. His black hair was styled upwards, once again only a few strands falling into his forehead. The little mole underneath his eye, right there on his cheek looking so endearing.

He drove the car in silence not mentioning if he saw you staring and you decided that not speaking to him would do you more good than not. Arriving at the office around ten minutes later, he held the door open for you and you thanked him with a nod, your bag back on your shoulder. You followed him inside, the now familiar entrance hall and elevators greeting you in their elegant demeanor just like last time. Just like back then you were extremely nervous, feeling sweat forming on your hands, your teeth continuously gnawing on your bottom lip. Seokmin and you entered the elevator and you tried to calm your beating heart. This was going to be fine. You had lied many times before - maybe not about something like this to someone you had a very… specific… relationship with, but… yeah. You gulped when the doors opened and Seokmin led you to where he had a week ago. Knocking on the door once, he then continued to open it, again letting you go ahead. 

Seungcheol was leaning against his desk, hands holding onto its edge. Your eyes met his immediately and your stomach did a flip while the rest of your insides seemed to tighten uncomfortably. 

“Very well, we’re all here.” He pushed himself off the table, hands now shoved into the pockets of his tight pants that made his thighs look extremely delicious. Only when you stopped staring at his legs did you register what he said. Your head moved to the side and you saw Vernon sitting on the armchair across from the couch, your eyes widening slightly. 

“Seokmin, take a seat next to Vernon, won’t you.” Cheol said, but his eyes were locked on you. His assistant nodded and walked over to the driver, presenting him with a nod before taking his place on the other armchair. The second he was seated, Cheol walked over to you in three big steps, his arm wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer. You gasped at the sudden contact, hands finding Cheol’s chest.

“Tell me, darling, did you fuck them?” His eyes said something you couldn’t grasp and while your throat dried up, your head still somewhat knew how to function and nodded. The man holding you close clicked his tongue.

“Use your words, baby.” His grip around you tightened and you cursed yourself for feeling that right between your legs. Pressing your thighs together, you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I did.” 

Seungcheol watched you closely, eyes roaming over your face, your neck and chest. He saw the mark he had left slightly fading and a small smile played on his lips.

“Is that right?” He mumbled, looking at Vernon and Seokmin for only a split second before his attention was back on you.

“Tell me then. Tell me what they did to you.”

The request caught you off guard. Seokmin and Vernon froze in their seats, not daring to look at each other. This had not been part of the plan. Seokmin tried to stay positive - neither he nor Vernon had given Seungcheol any details of your presumed nights together which meant you had full creative control. But then again, Seokmin thought, would he be okay listening to you sharing a story about how he fucked you? He shifted on his seat, his poker face staying even with his dick uncomfortably twitching inside his briefs. 

Now, you looked over at the two men, not able to read anything in their blank faces. Fine, this was up to you then. Clearing your throat again, you looked back at Cheol.

“You sure?” You wanted to know. Seungcheol nodded, his arm still tightly wrapped around you.

“Fine,” you dropped your bag onto the floor, “Seokmin fucked me in the back of his car. Right about a day after your little presentation. He didn’t wait long, just pulled me onto the backseat, fingered me open for him and then took me from behind until he came.”

You were impressed with yourself, your voice didn’t go up higher, nor did you stop looking at him during any time of your little speech. Seungcheol’s face was unreadable. 

“Did he make you cum?” He asked then. You shook your head.

“He watched as I finished myself off.” 

Wherever that confidence came from - you weren’t sure. You didn’t notice the way Seokmin’s eyes narrowed or how he crossed his legs, didn’t notice how angry splashes of red appeared on his neck. He had watched you getting yourself off? Please, if anything he’d make you cum with his fingers, cock and mouth. He would never just come and then leave you to finish the job yourself. Still, he remained calm, leaning back in the chair and ignoring the images of you on the backseat of his car, of his cock repeatedly thrusting into you. 

“Vernon?” Cheol continued then. 

“It was in my apartment three days ago. I invited him over and we had dinner. We both wanted to get it over with, but also to have it be pleasurable nonetheless. So, we started making out and I eventually rode his cock till he came.”

Vernon felt his blood rush down south at that thought. Little did you or anyone else in this room know how far this was from anything that had happened to him in real life. 

“Did he make you cum, baby?” Cheol asked, one hand now cupping your face. You shook your head. 

“No. I finished myself off when he was gone.”

While it did hurt his pride a little bit, Vernon understood what you were doing. He still couldn’t help himself imagining what you’d look like with your fingers pounding into your cunt. 

For a few seconds Cheol was quiet. Then, he chuckled lowly. Your heart dropped. Shit. He parted from you, cracking his neck once, twice, before looking over at his two employees, slash, friends.

“So, you two can’t even do this one thing for me?” He asked calmly, and Vernon and Seokmin got up, ready to defend themselves, when Seungcheol shook his head, holding up one of his big hands. 

“Perhaps,” he began, “Perhaps, I need to show you what you missed out on.”

Your ears perked up at that, heat rising inside of you, gaze on Seungcheol’s back. Show them what they missed out on? When he turned around, his eyes full of fire, you felt yourself gasp. He had pulled you close again, his chest pressed against yours, head leaned forward, lips right by your ear.

“Liars get punished, baby,” he whispered, “should I fuck you right here in front of them? Give them a show?” 

The small groan coming out of your mouth gave you away. Seungcheol kissed you then, hot and demanding, his tongue thrusting into your mouth from the get go. He let his hands roam over your body, shoving up your shirt and groping your tits, having you moan into his mouth as he finally picked you up and laid you down onto the couch, right into Seokmin and Vernon’s view. 

“S-Sir, we- we can g-go,” Vernon stuttered, eyes glued to the way your shirt had risen up, showing your stomach and a little bit of your underboob and, god, Vernon was already hard. 

“If you want to, go. But I doubt either of you wants to miss this, isn’t that right, darling?” Cheol smirked down at you, your face hot and your pussy throbbing for him already. 

“Sit down and enjoy the show because I fear this is the closest you will get to this pussy, boys.”

Vernon plopped back down onto the armchair then, his mouth already hanging low while Seokmin was torn. A part of him wanted to stay, wanted to see you get railed, wanted to save the pictures for later when he was alone, imagining it was him instead of Seungcheol fucking you. Another part wanted to leave though. He definitely didn’t want to be part of Cheol’s sick game. He already did everything for that jerk, why the hell should he comply even now? 

But the second he heard your moan, Seokmin found himself sitting back down. The sound went straight to his cock and he crossed his legs like he had before, trying to ignore how tight his pants were growing. 

Cheol had moved between your legs, hands gripping your bare thighs, silently thanking you for wearing that skirt today. He pressed kisses onto your flesh, biting into it after, making you moan. Hands found your panties, pulling them down and inhaling your scent just then, licking his lips. 

Dashing forward, he sunk his tongue into your folds, fingers still digging into your skin. Seeing red, you let your hands move to his head, nails almost hurting his scalp. You moaned out loud when his lips closed around your clit and a finger found its way into your tight heat. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” Cheol mumbled loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “bet you regret not being able to taste her pussy, isn’t that right?” He sucked your clit into his mouth again, tongue flicking against it in a fast rhythm and you arched your back, crying out his name. Cheol was wonderful with his mouth and fingers, maybe even deserved a medal for the way he coordinated his finger and tongue, how he licked into your hole and up your folds, how he devoured your bud as if it was a delicacy in a 5 star restaurant. 

“Hear how wet she is? My little slut likes being watched, doesn’t she?” Cheol moved forward now, pressing two fingers into you and pumping them in and out at a fast pace. You gasped, hands on his biceps, holding on for dear life.

“D-Daddy!” you cried out and Cheol smirked, looking over at Seokmin and Vernon who were both staring at you.

“That’s right, cry out for me, baby.” He picked up the pace, licking his lips before he dipped down, kissing you again, more tongue and teeth than anything else. Your hips were chasing his movements, fingers digging into his muscular arms. 

“Holy.” Vernon swallowed, his hand pressing down onto his crotch to get some kind of friction. His mind was racing, everything kind of a blur while his cock was getting harder with every second. Seokmin, meanwhile, was sitting quietly on his chair, eyes locked on you. He thrived on the way you arched your body, the way your face was pulled into a grimace, your mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t even try to control the erection in his pants, knowing well enough it was only going to get worse. 

“Should I show them your pussy, baby? Do you want them to see how wet you are?” Seungcheol pulled his fingers out of you, your juices so visible on them for everyone to see. Vernon whimpered at the sight, while Seokmin stayed put. Your chest was heaving, watching how Cheol moved up again, letting his fingers sink into your mouth. You sucked them in, tongue swirling around them as if they were his cock. Cheol felt his dick twitch and he licked his lips, your taste forever the sweetest he had ever tasted. 

He then moved you, having both your legs hang off the couch, spreading them for Seokmin and Vernon to see, both of them holding their breaths as they saw your needy cunt, the way you were dripping, your eyes wide and so full of lust Vernon couldn’t help but reach into his pants, palming himself over his boxers, eyes glued to your glistening folds.

“Look at that, looks like Vernon likes your pussy, baby. Bet he wishes he could be the one to do this, hm?” Cheol let three fingers push into you now, the stretch making you cry out in pleasure, holding onto the edge of the couch as your head fell backwards. The sounds it made, the way his fingers reached you right where you needed him to, pushed into that spot over and over again, your walls clenching around him more often than not.

“Yeah, look at how well that pretty pussy takes my fingers, such a good girl for Daddy,” Cheol mumbled more to himself than anyone else, even though he was still aware of the two other men in the room. He loved watching you come undone, loved the way you moaned, cried, whimpered  - every sound you made was like music to him. A symphony he could never grow tired of. 

“D-Daddy, pl-please!” Your eyes were rolling back, your hips lifting off the couch, about to reach your high, stomach tightening - when Cheol pulled his fingers out and instead slapped down onto your clit having your body jerk and tears building up behind your eyes.

“I told you, liars need to be punished.” Without any warning, he grabbed your hips again, having you on all fours on the couch, his cock freed from his pants, pumping it once, twice, before slapping his free hand onto your asscheek. You moaned, almost losing balance and your eyes flew to the side when you heard Vernon moan again. His hand was inside his boxers now, jerking off without any control, hand flying up his cock in rapid movements. Seokmin was still not moving. Your eyes stayed on him even when Cheol rammed into you, his one hand on your hip, the other around your neck.

The eye contact made Seokmin question his sanity even more. Why the fuck would you look at him right now, why would you not close your eyes and enjoy Seungcheol fucking you? The moans that erupted your whole body as Seungcheol began thrusting made Seokmin almost come untouched. He balled his hands to fists, ignoring the urge to touch himself. You were still looking at him, your hair falling into your face as Seungcheol pulled you up, hand fully wrapped around your neck as he fucked into you hard and quick. 

“Tell them how good I fuck you, baby.” Cheol groaned when you clenched around his length and you whimpered, eyes rolling back for a second.

“Y-you fuck me so good, Daddy.” Your voice was shaking with lust and pent up frustration and Seokmin felt himself twitch again, felt how close he was to release without even doing anything. Pathetic. 

“That’s right. My little slut wants me to fill her up, isn’t that right? Wants her pussy full of cum.” His thrusts got faster as he spoke and you could only nod, eyes back to their original position - looking right at Seokmin. You couldn’t really say why you felt the need to look at him, maybe because you wanted to challenge him, make him touch himself. It reminded you of the time Seungkwan had watched you and Wonwoo in the library and how he had needed encouragement to touch himself. Right now you felt like there was more behind Seokmin’s actions, though. He knew he could touch himself, after all Vernon was going on himself like a horny teenager, but Seokmin didn’t want to. He wanted to prove a point. And you wanted to break him. You let another moan out, your hands moving to shove up your shirt, showing both of them your tits for the very first time, your hands massaging them harshly, thumb and index pinching your nipple. Cheol noticed, groaning as he changed the angle one more time, kneeling down with you on his lap, fucking up into you now.

“Putting on a show, aren’t you? Such a little whore, fuck.” Cheol took over your own task, massaging your tits as he fucked into you and you let your fingers spread your pussy, circling your clit as you let your head fall back, hips bouncing off Cheol’s lap now. Your cunt pulsated around him, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every single thrust and you were sure you were about to come.

“D-Daddy, a-am so close, c-can I please come?”

“You think you deserve to cum?” Cheol let out an evil chuckle, before pushing you off of him, his cock slipping out of your pussy, your orgasm once again denied. You almost fell of the couch, but Cheol caught you, turning you back around to face him. Then he pushed your head down, his cock slipping between your lips easily, a surprised gasp erupting you the same time as his cock slid down your throat.

“Told you already, liars get punished. That’s why those two aren’t allowed to touch you and you,” he thrusted up, a cough jerking your whole body and drool ran down Seungcheol’s shaft, “you don’t get to come on my cock or my fingers. Now, take Daddy’s cum like the good whore you are.”

He began to fuck your throat to the fullest now, tip being the only thing left in your mouth before he rammed his hips forward, repeating this motion until tears streamed down your face, your pussy throbbing from all the need and neglect, his cock finally pulling out of you - only to have his hot and thick cum land all over your face and neck, his moans of your name only making you needier. Cheol fell back into the cushions, his cock still in his hand. 

“Good girl, such a good girl. Common, show us how good you can make yourself come, isn’t that what you did in your stories, too?”

Your eyes widened, realizing that you did this to yourself. Your head was cloudy, only thing on your mind was to release and so you didn’t wait any longer, leaning back on the couch, back hitting the armrest as you spread your legs, letting two fingers slip into you, while the other hand was squeezing your tit, back arching as your hips chased that sweet orgasm you earned for.

“Fuck, look at you. Such a good whore, so, so needy.” Cheol lazily stroked his softening cock, enjoying the view of you with his cum all over you, fucking yourself with your fingers. 

Vernon, meanwhile, had finished into his boxers approximately around the same time as Cheol had shot his load onto your face. Now, he kind of regretted it. Seeing you like this, the way you fucked yourself, the way you whimpered, cried, tears mixing with the cum on your face, both dripping down your chin and onto your chest… he just continued jerking his cock, wondering if he could just come again. 

And then there was Seokmin, still seated the same way as when this had begun, just that there was a very obvious bulge in his pants, hurting from how hard he was. He tried to steady his breathing, but he knew the second you started fucking yourself it was over for him. He was right. 

Once you reached your high, the orgasm rushed over you with so much force you sobbed loudly, liquid shooting out of you as you rode out your orgasm on your fingers, whimpers and sobs continuing to fill the air. Seokmin moved, just slightly, and his cock came in contact with his pants, just a tiny bit of fraction. He moved and he came untouched, ropes of white filling his briefs as he felt his fingers dig into the armrest of his chair, his cock twitching over and over in his pants, his breath heavy. 

“Good job, baby, did so well for Daddy.” Cheol was quick to pull you up, wipe away the cum and tears from your cheeks to instead feed them to you, your lips sucking on his digits with exhaustion. 

“Oh fuck-,” Vernon’s eyes rolled back as another orgasm hit him, just a bit of cum shooting out his worn out cock and he fucked up into his fist three times before sinking into his chair, completely spent.

Cheol got you tissues, cleaning you up with care while Vernon had excused himself to the bathroom. Seokmin still hadn’t moved. 

“This was okay, right?” Cheol whispered to you when you stood up, your clothes all back in place. You nodded, patting his cheek.

“Yeah. I like myself some good old voyeurism, Cheol,” you smiled, your tired bones yelling at you to go home.

“Do you still want me to fuck them?” You asked then and Cheol laughed, caressing the back of your head.

“Now, it is them who will want to fuck you, baby.”

Seokmin felt their eyes on him then, felt the way red crept onto his cheeks. He was wearing black, so maybe if he got up it wouldn’t be visible that he literally came without touching himself. Slowly, he raised from his chair, and watched how Cheol and your gazes wandered right to where he hoped they wouldn’t. While you felt your exhausted pussy clench, Seungcheol smirked cockily.

“Now, won’t you look at that? Our little Seokminnie came untouched. How cute.” 

The words hit Seokmin deeper than they probably needed to. Clenching his jaw, Seokmin walked past you and Seungcheol, opening and slamming the door behind him to go to the bathroom and hopefully manage to clean himself up. How convenient he always had another suit hanging in the closet. 

-

It had been five days. Five days that Seokmin had to live with his boss giving him that look. It’s like Seungcheol knew exactly how to get Seokmin to doubt himself. And perhaps that was true considering they had known each other since college. Seungcheol the big business major who then went abroad and Seokmin who was doing well and still somehow ended up being Seungcheol’s assistant. It wasn’t a bad job, more so the opposite. Or at least it had been for the longest time. Now, Seokmin wasn’t so sure. Was this still a good job he liked going to when all he could think about was you and how you looked spread open on that couch he had sat on countless of times before? All of that combined with Seungcheol’s knowing grin and the unspoken words that somehow still echoed in Seokmin’s mind whenever his superior walked by. 

Every night since then Seokmin had laid in his bed with his cock fucking his fist, thinking about you. It was dirty and wrong and bad and yet he still did it. Did it every time his back hit his mattress. The images of you were burned into his brain and there was nothing he could do but hope it would be over sooner rather than later.

Work was fine, apart from that. He had a whole lot to do and was able to distract himself by going to meetings, driving across town to check up on the factory, by going to lunch with partners and finally by finishing reports that were actually Seungcheol’s job. Normally this was alright with him, Seokmin didn’t mind doing Seungcheol’s work, knowing exactly how busy he was. But today, five days after he had seen you split open by him, Seok felt very differently. 

“I have this phone meeting now, don’t I?” Cheol came to a halt in front of Seokmin’s desk, holding a Starbucks coffee in his hand. Seokmin nodded.

“Yup.” He didn’t look up at his boss, instead continued to eye whatever was on his screen. Cheol snorted.

“You really gonna be like this, Seok? Common, it happened to all of us before. Coming in our pants, I mean,” the condescending smirk was back on his lips, “you know, when we’re teens.” While Seungcheol laughed at his own idiotic joke, Seokmin stayed quiet, ignoring him. Eventually the older man left to walk into his office and Seokmin was left alone again. 

Looking at the bottom right of his screen he saw that Seungcheol entered said phone meeting and sighed in relief, leaning back in his chair. Seungcheol was going to be occupied for the next 45 minutes and that was really all he needed. Just a few minutes without fearing his boss to walk about and make him feel small. God, how badly he wanted to get back at him. But he hadn’t dared to call you, too embarrassed about what had happened. His thoughts wandered back to you, to the way you had held steady eye contact while Cheol had fucked you. He wondered why. Why you had done that, why you had chosen to look at him. Taking a deep breath, the assistant shook his head, about to go back to work, when he heard the wooden door opening, his head quickly moving to the side. There wasn’t anyone on the agenda for this time, not even for the spot in an hour so who-

You walked in just then, a white babydoll dress on your body, and Seokmin stood up, unsure what to make of your sudden appearance. Your pink painted lips turned into a smile.

“Hi.” Seokmin swallowed.

“Hello, Miss.”

You two stayed silent for a bit, before Seokmin cleared his throat and sat back down.

“How may I help you? I fear Mr. Choi is in a meeting right now.”

“I actually came to see you.”

Seokmin froze in his spot, feeling his hands cramp and his brain come up with the craziest scenarios. 

“Why?” He only managed to reply, still not looking at you. 

“Well, I wanted to ask you for coffee. I know Cheol is in a meeting. He told me earlier. And I thought we could… talk.” 

Talk. Seokmin swallowed down the apple-sized lump in his throat. Talk. Did you really think he could talk to you? After what he had seen? After what you had done to him? He tried to calm himself by taking another breath.

“You want to talk? About what?” He was proud of himself for having his voice appear collected when he was anything but. 

You shifted on your feet, your little purse hanging from both of your hands in front of your body.

“Uh, I don’t know. Just talk. I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot and-,” Seokmin stood up again, his chair making a rather unpleasant noise as it slid over the floor. You flinched, eyes widening.

“Got off on the wrong foot?” Seokmin walked around his table and stopped when he reached you. Now, he towered over you, making you feel small. 

“Y/N, I needn’t remind you that we were never supposed to get off on any foot. Because of your lifestyle it just so happened my boss thought we should meet.”

You frowned. Your lifestyle? 

“Excuse me?” Crossing your arms, you stared at Seokmin who stared right back. He tried to ignore the strong urge to look at your cleavage, to remember how they looked all naked and squeezed by your hand. 

“I don’t want to grab coffee with you. Nor do I want to talk to you. About anything.”

“Really? Is that why you came untouched watching me pleasure myself?” 

Your back slammed against the wall, the air leaving your lungs as Seokmin had you pinned against the concrete behind you. 

“Say that again.” His voice was low and his arm on you made your knees weak. 

Perhaps, if you were honest, you had kind of hoped this would happen. It was stupid, really, stupid and making everything even more complicated, but you had been thinking about him a lot. Even when you had let Mingyu into your bed again two days ago, Seokmin had been right there, Seokmin and the way he had cum without you even doing anything directly to him. Seokmin and his thighs. Seokmin and how he would taste on your tongue. It was haunting you and you just really needed to get him out of your system. You had thought that maybe you could get him to drive you home, asking him to come upstairs. Apparently, though, you didn’t even have to think that far. 

“Did you enjoy it? Watching Seungcheol fuck me? Watching me finger myself?”

Seokmin groaned, his hand moving to your throat, making you moan and, fuck, his ears began ringing. Without giving it any more thought, he pressed his lips onto yours, almost ready to have you reject him, but instead he felt your hands grab onto his collar, your purse falling onto the floor. Immediately, he deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding over your lips and you gladly let him enter. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, his tongue guiding yours and making butterflies erupt in your stomach. He then pushed one of his delicious thighs between your legs, having you gasp into his mouth when you felt him flex against your core. It felt like an instinct, the way you began rutting your cunt against his leg, his low moan filling the heavy air. 

“You like getting off on my thigh, baby?” He whispered against your lips and you nodded rapidly, a whimper coming out of your mouth when he pressed himself closer against you, his thigh now moving with your hips. His lips attached to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin and you let your hands wander off to the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin, leaving small crescent moons right there. 

The stimulation from his thigh was immense, almost too much, considering how much you had fantasized about them. Your head banged against the wall behind you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to minimize your sounds. Seokmin continued kissing your neck, hand now moving to squeeze your tit over your dress, noticing right away you went braless. 

“Look so fucking pretty in that dress, shit.” He kissed you on the mouth again, grabbing your face with the hand that had previously been around your throat. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his thumb press down on your stiff nipple. For a while you just made out like that, just kissing as if your life depended on it and somehow both of you felt like that was the case. Then, when both of you heard Seungcheol’s laugh through the wooden door, Seokmin parted from you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen. Without hesitating, he picked you up from the floor and moved to his desk, his lips back on yours, biting down on your bottom lip and making you cry out. Placing you on his desk, he continued to let his hands roam over your thighs, right hand finally touching your needy core. 

“All for me?” He mumbled against your ear and you nodded again, hands on his cheeks, guiding him back to your lips. You felt like you could get drunk on his kisses. Seokmin leaned in harder, while his fingers slipped underneath your panties, touching your soaked folds and moving down to press down on your sensitive clit. You moaned again, your eyelids fluttering as you felt him circle your clit, your hips almost automatically starting to move. Seokmin smirked against your lips before he continued to kiss you, his tongue finding yours right away, nothing seeming more important than kissing you. Only when he felt your hips shake, he decided to pull your panties off your legs, your ass lifting off from the desk for a second, your panties soon on the floor. Seokmin licked his lips before he finally sunk a finger into you, your face showing nothing but pleasure. He grinned confidently.

“Is this what you actually came for, baby?” He asked then and you nodded, sucking his finger right up your needy pussy. Seokmin groans quietly.

“Yeah? Naughty girl, aren’t you?” His lips found your jaw, moving down to your neck again and you quickly opened the zipper off your dress, having it fall off your shoulders in no time. Seokmin sucked in a breath, eyes glued to your tits.

“Touch me, Seokmin.” Your breathy voice made his cock twitch and he moved quickly, hand now squeezing your tit while the other added another finger, pumping in and out of you at quick speed now. Your eyes rolled back and Seokmin knew you were trying to stay quiet. He chuckled.

“Let it out, baby. Let him know.” And while in theory that sounded extremely hot, you weren’t sure how Cheol would take this - you fucking his assistant right outside his door. Still, you let out a louder moan when his fingers hit your sweet spot, the squishy part of you making Seokmin bite into your shoulder. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean, while your hands moved to open his pants, belt first, then zipper and button. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on his cock, to have him in your hand and to finally have him pound into you. Finally, when his pants landed on the floor and you saw the prominent outline of his cock behind his gray briefs, the moan escaping you now could have surely been heard by the man behind the wooden door. Seokmin moved quickly, one hand moving to your neck, lips chasing yours as his other hand grabbed his shaft, your legs wrapping around him as he finally sunk into you one inch at a time. 

“O-Oh, Seokmin!” You cried out and he cried back, forehead resting against yours. Only when he bottomed out, all of him safely pushed inside, did he move his head, his lips now right by your ear.

“I’ll fuck you better than he ever could, baby. Make you cum harder than he ever will.” His words make you clench around him, your head dropping back as he began fucking you, the desk making noises that neither of you believed could stay unnoticed. His hands gripped your hips as he continued to fuck into you, your mouth hanging wide open, hands holding onto the edges of the table, his dick so good there were stars around your head. 

“God, look at you. Gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

He picked up his pace, moving forward and raising one arm to move some of his documents to the side, having you lay down flat on the desk, your head hanging over the edge now. You looked absolute angelic and perfect, he couldn’t help but twitch. Your cunt kept on clenching around him, almost as if she never wanted to let him go again and, fuck, if anything Seokmin felt just the same. His hands dug deeper into your skin, his grunts having you arch your back and when he pressed two of his fingers against your clit, circling it like he had done before, you couldn’t help the cry that escaped you, your legs spasming around him as you felt your orgasm rush over you. Seokmin felt you throb around him, felt the waves of pleasure that erupted you and he moved quicker now, eyes focused on the way your tits bounced with every one of his thrusts. He knew he was close, fucking you through your orgasm and continuing to rub your clit, your pussy spent but still asking for more.

“S-Seokmin, do-don’t stop!” You almost screamed, your voice full of need and Seokmin’s head felt like it was about to explode.

“Yeah, take it like the good whore you are, fuck!” He leaned forward now, hand now behind your head to steady it as he kisses you hungrily, his hips still rutting against yours, getting that second orgasm out of you just as he feels his own approach.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He mumbled with your tongue on his lips, your cry finally getting him over the edge, hot white spurs of his pleasure painting your walls as he fucked you and now him as well through your orgasms, the desk hitting the floor repeatedly at this point, the sound obnoxious and so obvious. 

Obvious and obnoxious to the person behind the wooden door who had recognized your first moan and hadn’t been able to concentrate on the meeting ever since. How fucking dare you, he thought, fucking Seokmin right outside his door. Seungcheol had wanted to go out there and drag you in here, finish the job he knew he was the best at. He didn’t though. He knew how you felt about your challenge and as much as he hated it - he wanted to respect you. So, now there he sat. His cock hard hearing your noises, knowing exactly what you looked like when you made them, with three old dudes on the phone talking about whatever. He had muted himself at some point when the desk outside began rutting against the floor too loudly. He made a mental note to get these nailed to the floor. 

Seungcheol also recognized your cry as you came, his cock twitching uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and pulling a hand through his hair. Thankfully, about fifteen minutes later, the meeting was cut short because one of the partners had an emergency and so Seungcheol said his goodbyes and left the call, immediately jumping up from his chair to hurry over to the door, opening it swiftly. 

There you were, seated on the edge of the desk Seungcheol knew Seokmin had just fucked you on. You turned around to look at him, jumping from the desk with an innocent smile on your face. Seokmin had stood in front of you. He had kissed you. Seungcheol had caught you kissing Seokmin. His hand was about to cramp, that’s how hard he balled it. 

“Y/N.” Cheol said sternly and your eyebrows shot up. 

“Seungcheol I-,”

“I am taking you home. Seokmin, I need you to cancel all my meetings for the day.”

He didn’t give either of you a chance, instead he grabbed you by the wrist and basically dragged you out and to the elevators. The atmosphere was cold and you knew that it was most probably because of what he had heard. You bit your lip, glad you had thought about grabbing your purse after you and Seokmin had parted and he had gotten you some towels from the bathroom. 

The kiss after… it hadn’t really been planned. But once he had helped you clean up, his cum dripping down your legs and all… his face had been so close and then, suddenly, you were making out again. Not with any intention, you both were worn out, but just because you could.

“Cheolie…” You pouted up at him, but Cheol ignored you, instead taking his car key out of his pocket and continuing to drag you along when you reached the garage. 

He placed you on the passenger seat and then moved to the driver’s seat. The drive was silent. Cheol didn’t say a word and you felt like you should probably give him the space he needed right now. 

When he finally parked at your apartment complex, he also finally looked at you.

“You kissed him.” He said. You were confused.

“That’s normally what happens during sex, yes.”

“No. After. When I came out. You kissed him.” 

You blinked at him a few times. Then, you grinned.

“Choi Seungcheol, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I am. Extremely. I told you I want you to finish your challenge, I even picked the guys for you, Y/N.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you kissed him after. Like you kiss me.”

Your heart clenched inside your chest. Quickly, you undid your seatbelt and instead leaned forward, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Cheolie…” You pouted again, but he averted his gaze, his cheeks slightly red. You let your teeth sink into your lip.

“Daddy…” The whisper made Cheol look up. He was still semi-hard. 

That’s how you found yourself with his cock down your throat and him fucking up into your tight heat. As it seemed neither of you could have an adult conversation without a certain situation being in the way.

“God yeah, no one takes my cock like you, fuck.” His head was leaned back against the headrest, his mouth hanging wide open as he used your throat to get off, to forget. 

“You want only my cock, I know you do, want only me to fill you up, want only my cum to breed you, my little whore.”

He mostly spoke to himself, almost like a pep-talk and you gladly let him, your tongue swirling around him as you hollowed out your cheeks. 

A knock on the window made him still inside your mouth. 

“Oppa?!” The voice was muffled through the glass. 

Jiwoo’s eyes were as wide as could get, but somehow grew even wider when she made eye-contact with her best friend who was currently getting throat fucked by Jiwoo’s older brother.