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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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Kimura Delivery Service: Pt. 1

Pairing: OC x S.W.O.R.D leaders (yes, you read that right)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst,

Word Count: 9k

Fandom: High & Low: The Story of S.W.O.R.D

Summary: After a life of swinging her fists, Sakyia is hopeful about her easy going job of delivering packages…However, her aunt neglected to mention the “regulars”: The gang leaders of S.W.O.R.D. and the undeniable affection they all grow to have for her.

Overall Warnings: blood and violence, fighting, gang activity, crime, mentions of death, multiple relationships, girlboss being a girlboss, not really ‘poly’ but girl has a string of lovers.

Prologue < | >

Tagged: @belle643

Chapter 1: S is for Sannoh Hoodlum Squad

The apartment above the store was smaller than her old home, but it looked cozy. Even with the old furniture, chipped wallpaper and musty carpet underneath her feet, she felt a sense of warmth throughout the room. Looking around, they’d certainly have to fix it up to be comfortable. With a separate bedroom on the side, the bathroom remained the only other room. She figured her and her mother would be sharing a room until they could afford a bigger place. She didn’t mind. It was better than having no bed at all. She opened a window to let out the stuffy air, and saw the spectacular view…

A small courtyard and the opposite building behind them.

When her mother and aunt came back up, Sakyia noticed they’d brought two young men with them. One was tall with long black dreadlocks, and his companion was darker and shorter. She guessed these were Junpei’s friends. The boy with the dreadlocks smiled when he saw her, then nudged his friend, who also grinned.

“Sakyia,” Hana said, “I’d like you to meet Tettsu,” the tall one waved, “And Dan,” the short one bowed slightly. “They come and help me from time to time.”

“Because Junpei tells them too.”

“Cobra doesn’t force us to do anything,” Tettsu immediately said, placing down one of their boxes. “We’re always here for our neighborhood. It’s what Sannoh Hoodlum Squad is about: protecting and caring for the town.”

She tried to stifle a laugh, “Sannoh Hoodlum Squad? That’s your gang’s name?” It wasn’t the worst name she’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Cobra is our leader.”

“His nickname is ‘Cobra’?” she snickered, picking up the box of kitchen items. “It would be.”

“Sakyia!” Midori furrowed her brow, “Stop being rude.”

“I’m not being rude,” she put it on the counter, giggling softly, “Just voicing an opinion. You told me Sannoh is a good place to live.”

“It is,” Dan told her reassuringly. “You’ll see once you’re settled in. Sannoh Hoodlum Squad isn’t like the ones you’re probably used to seeing. We take care of our people.”

“You can come to the diner and see for yourself,” Tettsu suggested. “It’s called the Itokan Diner.”

“Ooh! That sounds nice!” Midori said. “Is it a new place? I haven’t been home in such a long time; everything’s changed around here.”

The pair began explaining it to her as Sakyia helped unload the car downstairs. They seemed nice, but most gangsters did. However, looking them both over, and listening to them talk, they did not seem the type to be in gangs. They were friendly and helpful to her aunt, who appreciated them enough to offer rice balls the next time they came. They didn’t brag or flaunt any fancy things they’d bought. Should she have passed them in the street, they’d appear like any normal youths. Sakyia knew more than most that appearances can be deceiving. She decided she’d leave her judgment for more contemplative hours; she had work to do.

Sakyia spent the rest of the day putting things away and trying to make something of a home in the apartment. She made shelf space for her art supplies and books; her mother brought small potted plants to place along the window sill for some life. Family photos went on shelves and walls; they’d put her father’s remains in an ornate wooden box on the bedroom dresser. By the time they’d finished, night fell and the apartment seemed less empty and shabby.

“We need food,” her mother frowned when she saw the empty fridge. “I’ll order take out for tonight. Burgers, Blossom?”

“I guess,” she shrugged.

“Don’t get burgers,” Hana said, unpacking the last kitchen box. “There’s a perfectly good diner down from here that serves way better food.”

“That diner your friends mentioned?” asked Sakyia.

“You’ll love their food,” she insisted. “Naomi is such a great cook, and the prices are reasonable.” Midori looked at Sakyia with raised eyebrows, and Sakyia shrugged again. They turned to Hana who nodded, “I’ll place the order. Sakyia can go pick it up. You can walk there, it’s not too far.”

“Ugh, Auntie,” she groaned, plopping onto the couch. She let her body sink into it as she said, “I’m so tired. Can’t they deliver?”

“They don’t do that,” Hana replied. “Stop being lazy. You’re young. Besides, Junpei might be there.”

“Um okay, so?”

She caught her mother and her aunt looking at one another. She groaned and let her head fall back on the couch. It was inevitable that this would come up: Cobra was a young man. Sakyia was a young woman, new in town. “He’s a man of few words, but he’s very nice-” Hana began, but Sakyia cut her off.

“-I literally just arrived,” she said. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I’m looking to sit down and never get back up again.”

“We weren’t thinking that at all,” her mother said unconvincingly. She grabbed a bottle of wine that Hana brought, and said, “Your aunt was telling us what a nice young man Junpei is, that’s all.”

“Mh-hm, your mom keeps complaining to me about how you’re always at home, you don’t go to school, you don’t have a lot of friends-”

“-Well, I wasn’t really in a place to make any friends.”

No, she hadn’t been. Yes, there’d been fighters she became friendly with in the warehouse, but nobody she saw outside of the place. Twelve years fighting on dirt and sawdust, her hands and wrists wrapped up, forged her into something. A weapon. Jiro took up most of her time, so she never went out with friends or her mother all that much. The one person she'd grown closest to sat in a Rasen prison cell. Sakyia recalled the times she’d tried fitting in with girls at her school: going shopping, wearing makeup and pretty clothes; talking about boys they liked and things they did over the weekend. She wanted that life. She wanted a circle of friends who stuck by her side, and lifted her up. Often, she imagined going shopping with a group of friends, and visiting her mother's salon togethet.

But, Jiro pulled her away from that to fight in the pits. Plus, the bruises kept people at a distance. Thinking of the endless fights night after night already tired her out. She withdrew the small sketchpad from her bag with a pencil, and returned to her drawing.

She was done with fighting. She did not mind a bit of practice to keep herself in shape, but fighting people? Sakyia refused to do it ever again. She’d wasted her life on pointless fighting. She’d only done it because of Jiro; otherwise she might’ve given up on it entirely and focused on her art. Martial arts used to be something her father and her shared. When he died, it felt meaningless to continue. Sakyia looked forward to helping her mother in the salon, doing simple tasks and meeting people. Maybe she can enroll in a beauty school and become a stylist herself. She could still go, if she wanted; she was only twenty-five. She still had so much ahead, and with Jiro and the warehouse gone, she could be something more than that.

“-Alright, she’ll come by to pick it up,” Hana said over the phone. “Thank you, Naomi. Have a good night.” She turned back to Midori and Sakyia by the television, “Alright you, time to go. Here’s the address,” she scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to Sakyia, “She says it’ll be done in thirty minutes or so.”

“Then, I’ll go in thirty minutes.”

“No, young lady,” said Midori, picking up her glass of wine from the coffee table. “You’ll go now. That way it’ll be hot when you bring it back.”

“You two just want me out of the house so you can have the wine to yourselves,” Sakyia accused, putting her pad and pencil aside.

“That’s right,” she smiled, pouring her sister a glass. “I haven’t drank properly since I married Jiro,” she said to Hana. “He said he thought women drinking was an ugly trait. I can’t believe I actually listened to him.”

“I can’t believe you married him!” said Hana, sitting on the sofa between her and Sakyia.

This was her cue to leave. She slowly stood from the couch, slipped on her jacket and shoes, and headed out the door. Once outside, she entered the address into her phone and began walking. The sky started changing from day into night, and she saw businesses already closing. She did receive curious looks from locals who’d never seen her, but she nodded politely. Walking down the street, Sannoh did not seem like such a rough place. It did appear a bit run down in places, yet she liked that. It felt real. Sakyia saw herself living in this small town. She could inherit the salon or start her own art gallery and sell her drawings, if they were good enough. She smiled softly. This could be a good place for her and her mother.

She found the Itokan Diner wedged in a corner of the street with a small sign bearing its name in bold letters. Sakyia took a deep breath, and then pushed on the door. Her stomach growled at the scent of savory food in the air. She took a look around the small diner: it had bench tables, posters and words plastered on the walls, and chandeliers made from glass bottles. The rustic, comforting look must draw in a good amount of people during the night. She then noticed the room going quiet when she walked in.

“Hey, Sakyia!” Tettsu called to her from one of the tables, “You actually came!”

“Um, yeah,” she said, caught off guard by his grin, “My aunt ordered some food and I’m picking it up.”

Behind the counter, a short slim woman with brown hair stirred a pot over the stove. Sakyia guessed this was Naomi, the woman her aunt mentioned. She turned around when the door opened and smiled at Sayika.

"You must be Sakyia," she said. "Hana said you'd be coming by to pick up the food. It won't be ready for a while, so if you want to sit and have a drink, you're welcome to."

"Thanks," she took a seat at the bar. "They kicked me out so they can have all the wine to themselves. What do you have to drink around here?"

"Beer mostly," she replied.

Beer wasn't her favorite, but she asked for one. She gazed around the diner and noticed a drawing on the wall. It was a crown with two tigers on either side with the gang's name on a banner. She snorted. It was a decent design. She'd still seen worse. She took a swig from the beer Naomi placed in front of her and noted the photos on a shelf nearby. Two men stood together in front of a familiar logo on the wall. Two snakes tangled together in a circle underneath the words "Mugen" was a familiar sight to her.

"This used to be Mugen’s place?" the question came out before she stopped herself.

Naomi finished wiping a glass and said, "Ah, no. My brother, Tatsuya, was in it before he started the diner. The other man was his best friend, Kohaku. Why? Did you know them?"

"Not personally, but guys in the warehouse used to wear their vests and talk about them." She took another drink of beer when Naomi moved closer to her.

"Warehouse?"

She'd said too much. If this woman's brother was part of Mugen, she might not know about their part in the fighting rings. "I used to be a secretary in a warehouse in the bay area. With so many men around, they all try to impress you and say they know guys in Mugen or are a part of it."

"A lot of guys used to do that," said a male voice behind her.

She turned to see a dark haired man sitting not too far away, his own plate of food in front of him. His wide shoulders slimmed down his torso, though hidden behind the green sweater he wore. Judging by his face, he didn't like what Sakyia was saying.

"Doesn't mean Kohaku was involved," he said. "Guys in Mugen used its name to do bad things like deal drugs and women. But we weren't involved in that."

"Never said they did," she replied, a bit taken back by his reaction. "Just things I heard." She noticed another photo with Cobra and the other man with the first two. They also wore Mugen vests. It explained the man's reaction.

"She was only saying, Yamato. She didn't mean anything by it," Naomi defended her.

Men were so sensitive. She wondered what Yamato might say if she told him that Mugen members liked to fight and bet in the warehouse. Drinking her beer, she remembered a boy she'd fought who boasted about being part of Mugen. He made it sound as if she should've been scared of him. Sakyia would admit he dislocated her shoulder, broke her upper lip, bruised up her stomach and nearly choked her, but she'd beat him. He lost when a swift kick to the temple knocked him out. Sakyia smirked to herself. She recalled what she'd said to his manager.

"It appears that Mugen isn't as tough as they say."

"You were a part of Mugen, then?" she asked.

"Cobra and Yamato were," said Tettsu, coming over to her side, "But the rest of us joined them when they started the Sannoh Hoodlum Squad."

"Is there a signup sheet or something? How do you even join a gang?" The idea amused her. Naomi laughed as she turned back to the stove.

"Well, um, you sort of show up to the base and, kind of, join?"

"Why? Are you interested?" a deep voice asked from nearby.

She turned around to see Cobra sitting in a corner booth, a motorcycle magazine in front of him. In the dim lighting of the diner, his hair shone a dark gold color and softened his features. She understood her mother's suggestion at once. Even Sakyia wouldn't deny it: he was handsome. He didn't smile and spoke in a low voice.

"What if I was?" she asked, leaning back on the bar. "Do you accept women?"

The men in the bar laughed, but Cobra gazed at her. She tried not showing her uneasiness at his silent staring. His eyes remained absent the usual flirtatiousness; they observed her closely, as if they could see through her act. He studied her and she didn't like it. It reminded her too much of the men at the warehouse, who examined her like a horse for sale. The men who trained her said she had a slim body good for dodging and speed. She often fought men and women larger than her and her size came in handy. Cobra looked at her the way they did now.

"Depends," he said, "How good of a fighter are you?"

"Fighter?" Dan furrowed his brow.

Yamato turned to him in surprise, "What do you mean by that? She's a girl."

"That doesn't mean she couldn't fight any of you," said Naomi, who continued stirring her noodles. "She's got the body for it. She’s smaller and probably quicker than you, Baldy."

“Hag,” Yamato spat back, though his smile gave away the affection.

"Oh, I can't fight to save my life," Sakyia fibbed, finishing her beer. "I can't do all that fancy, tough guy martial arts stuff that guys do nowadays." It wasn't anyone's business what she could and couldn't do. Her father used to tell her not to show off or boast about her skills; that way she had the element of surprise. "I don't mind watching though. It’s kinda hot when guys fight each other," she added, winking at him. She expected a reaction, but didn't get one. He continued staring, and she stared right back. "What about you guys? What's your gang all about?"

"We protect the town," Cobra said. "There are other gangs around here who like hurting people and stealing. We stop them. We look after each other and make sure everyone is safe."

"How admirable. Most gangs I know deal drugs and fight all the time."

"Don't be fooled," said Naomi, putting rice into a small styrofoam container. "These guys use their fists to solve their problems all the time. You won't believe the amount of times they walk in here all bruised up and bleeding."

"But we win," Yamato quickly added, digging back into a hot plate of food.

"That’s not why we fight though,” said Cobra, going back to his magazine. “We fight hard because this town is worth fighting for. We all came together because of that shared love for our town. If you stick around long enough, you'll see it for yourself."

"Who could possibly want to mess with this little place?" she asked, the smell of the food making her hungry again. "There isn't anything here."

"People who want to step on the weak," he said. "The people who steal from those who already have nothing."

“I suppose my mom and I should be glad we moved into such a well protected area then,” she said, smirking at his righteous statement. She found it funny how serious he sounded. “So, do I call you if I ever need ‘protection’ or do you guys operate like Batman, and you happen to show up at the right time?”

The younger members chuckled at the joke, but stopped once Cobra stood up. All the nerves inside Sakyia lifted her shoulders slightly. She didn’t want to fight. Cobra came a few feet to her, then said, “I don’t think someone like you needs protection in the first place.”

“Meaning?”

“You claim you don’t know how to fight,” he said, “But then explain the scars on your knuckles.”

Sakyia looked at the hand on the bar, where a long scar stood out against her skin amongst smaller ones. “Accident,” she answered quickly. “It’s how I got this too, if you were planning on mentioning it,” she tapped the thin scar where Yoshi busted her nose. It healed well enough, but left a mark. “I was riding on a motorcycle with a friend, and it turned over. I broke my knuckle bone and my nose. Nothing suspicious about that.”

Cobra’s seriousness broke into a shadow of amusement. “I’ve been riding my motorcycle for years. I’ve never seen people get such specific injuries from an accident.”

“Are you some kind of motorcycle accident expert or something?” she spat back, “I got them from an accident, that’s it.”

"Your mom said she was opening up Sungmi's salon," Tettsu said, taking your attention from Cobra and his questions. "Will you be working there too?"

"Yeah," she nodded, peeling her eyes away from Cobra. "I'm not a stylist or anything, but she says I can clean and do reception."

Naomi came to her holding three styrofoam boxes. "Oh, she's opening back up the salon?"

"She'll be helping run it, yeah."

"Thank god!" She sighed in relief, "All the women around here have been going to the barber because the salon’s closed. It'd be nice to get a proper haircut."

"And a manicure or pedicure," Sakyia added. "My mom is hiring some nail artists to bring in more clients. She's going to have it properly running in a week or so. She actually does my hair," she showed off her short wavy bob, the ombre colors of brown and black fading out. "You should stop by when it's open."

"I definitely will," she said, "And I know plenty of other women who will stop by."

"I can come too," Tettsu chimed in eagerly.

"Salons are for women, Tettsu," Yamato rolled his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with a man going to a salon," Sakyia said to him. "Same as a woman going to a barber shop.”

"Then I will come by," Tettsu smiled. "And you can come to my family's onsen."

"Your family's bathhouse is for men," Naomi told him.

"We could make a private space for her."

Sakyia chuckled, "The offer is nice, but no thank you."

"Well, if you change your mind…" he blushed, turning away. “You can just, you know, drop by or whatever.”

"What's with your nickname anyways?" She turned to Cobra again. She hated how he’d seen her scars and deduced their cause. She needed to prod him back. Her mother might scold her, but she didn’t care. "Is it supposed to compensate for something?"

Yamato nearly choked on his food. Dan and Tettsu stifled laughter and Naomi busied herself with putting the food in take out bags. Cobra didn't smile but he didn't glare either. His lack of reactions had begun to annoy her. Also, his stare made her squirm inside.

"In school," he said, smiling somewhat when he saw she wasn't being malicious, "There was this grapple I learned how to do. People said I did it so tight, it was like a cobra squeezing them. Someone said it and the name stuck," he shrugged.

"Maybe you can show me," she suggested, picking up the plastic bags Naomi handed her. "You know, since this town is so dangerous and I'm a defenseless woman wandering the streets at night."

Yamato gawked at her, "Wow, this girl's bold!"

“I doubt you’re defenseless,” Cobra smirked.

She tried not laughing at their reactions. She paid for the food and drink, thanked Naomi and said her farewell. Once outside, she giggled to herself. Men were so easily shocked by bold behavior. They seemed like a decent group. She decided she might stop by the diner more often.

That was how people made friends, right?

When she returned to the shop, she climbed the stairs and heard her mother laughing behind it. Sakyia stood outside the door for a moment to listen. She hadn’t heard her mother’s laugh for a long time. Full of mirth and giddiness, she’s sure the wine is helping it along but Auntie Hana’s presence adds to this. A surge of hope actually swirled in her chest. Maybe things will work out for them in this little town.

“Ma, I’m back,” she called into the apartment as she entered.

“Oh, good! We’re starving!” Hana sighed in relief, coming to the kitchen counter where Sakyia placed the bags. She began opening the bags, deeply inhaling the food, “Perfect. Naomi is a great cook. You’re both going to love her food.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get to eating.”

Her mother grabbed utensils, and passed them around. Sitting at the small dining table next to the kitchen, the women dug into their meals. Sakyia agreed with her aunt about the food: it was delicious. The tender chunks of meat stew melted in her mouth, full of seasonings and spices that complimented the bed of rice underneath. Only her mother’s own cooking surpassed it. Dipping a piece of broccoli in the sauce and eating it, her mother spoke.

“Sakyia,” she began, “Your aunt and I have been talking while you were gone.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hana asked, affronted.

“Because whenever she starts a sentence with ‘your aunt and I have been talking’, it’s about to be something crazy.”

“Ah, hush you,” her mother nudged her with a smile. “I know we talked about you working with me in the salon, but Hana here told me she’s been looking for a delivery person for the store.”

“Okay…” she listened, eating another piece of saucy steamed vegetables.

“I think it’d be a better fit for you,” she stated, eating a bit of her own rice. “You’d be bored in the salon. You used to whine and wail about it when you were little, and you haven’t changed since then. Going around the districts, seeing the different places and meeting new people might be better for you. You’d be occupied and stimulated instead of sweeping floors and listening to gossip.”

“I wanted to sweep floors and listen to gossip,” she said. After the years she spent in the rings, she’d somewhat looked forward to ‘boring mundane work’.

“No, you didn’t,” her mother said. “You only want that because of, you know, your last…job.” She watched her daughter for a moment, seeing the way she avoided her gaze. “It’d be good for you,” she added. “You might make some friends that way and have a normal life.”

It sounded convincing, she wouldn’t lie. Sakyia knew deep down she’d get tired of working in the salon. It’d been the same during her childhood. She looked at Hana, “What would I be doing? Just delivering stuff to people?”

“Yes,” she nodded, drinking some of her wine. “People drop off their packages or send them in through other people; I charge and stamp them, and you’d take them where they need to go. Before you ask, a lot of these people don’t have the means or the time to give the packages and letters themselves. The family service is there to help them out. Besides, it’s good money,” she eyed them both before eating from her bowl. “It’ll help you greatly to have two incomes instead of one.”

“She’s got a point,” her mother agreed, washing down her food with water. “It’ll be good for us to have extra money coming in; then we’ll be able to get our own place quicker.”

Sakyia mulled this over while she ate. Her mother and her left their old home in a hurry, leaving them with little chances to find a proper and affordable place. If they save enough money, they can move into an apartment and leave the dingy flat above the postal shop.

“How would I get around?” Sakyia asked, seeing the flaw right away.

“You can use Koichi’s scooter,” she said. “He left it behind when he moved out of town. It’s in the courtyard between our building and the ones behind it.” She saw Sakyia’s hesitancy. “It’ll be good for you. Trust me. Not to mention,” she smirked to herself, “Some of my regulars are rather handsome.”

“Ooh!” her mother smiled, eyebrows raised at Sakyia.

“I’m not interested in that.”

“Oh please! A heartbreaker like you? I doubt it,” she rapped her arm and Sakyia smirked. “I remember all the little boys your mother used to tell me about; all of them trying to gain the attention of Tanaka Sakyia and being ignored. You don’t have to marry them, but,” she sneered, “It doesn’t hurt to have some fun.”

“My daughter is not that kind of girl, Hana.”

“I never said she was, but come on, Midori. We used to do the same when we were her age. You didn’t have a proper boyfriend until you met Kenji. But, that’s not important,” she said. “The job is easy and simple. The clients tip well for the service, and they’ll tip twice when they see how pretty you are. You won’t be fighting anyone or be in any sort of danger.” When Sakyia did not appear convinced, she continued, “Look, try it out for a week. I have clients around the district here, so you’ll at least get familiar with the area before you make a decision. How about it?”

Sakyia weighed the pros and cons of this job. It’d include a lot of travel and talking to strangers, going into places of the district she’d yet to explore. Yet, she’d be making her own money, and contributing to her home rather than sweep floors and take calls in a salon for free. This new job will give her something to do, since little Sannoh did not appear to offer much. She looked to her mother, who smiled at her encouragingly. Sakyia felt slightly disappointed. Boring work sounded so nice. No bloody fists. No broken bones or bruised skin. No rings. She’d have only a broom and dustpan; a phone and a computer to write down appointments. With this little bike and parcels, she may run into trouble, which she wished to avoid. But, looking around their new home, they needed the money.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she finally said. “How hard can it really be?”

Hana cheered and smiled widely, “Excellent! Oh, you’re gonna love it! It’ll be an easy gig for you, I promise.”

“You’ll do well,” her mother added, gripping her hand gently.

“I hope so.”

The three women finished their dinner, and then Hana left for the night. Sakyia felt too tired to unpack anything else, so she showered in the small bathroom and crashed onto her new bed. The full mattress squeaked, and felt slightly firm underneath her. It was better than nothing. Her mother took the bed on the other side of the room, and both of them fixed their beds for sleep.

“I think this will be good for us,” her mother said, her voice breaking the silence in the dark room. “This is the new beginning we needed. No debt collectors. No punks. No Jiro. Just you and me and this shabby apartment.”

Sakyia smiled to herself, turning her head to look at her mother a few feet away. “We’ll find a way to make this apartment a home, until we find our own. You’ll buy Sungmi’s salon and have your own business again.”

“And maybe you’ll finally make friends.” She then hesitated, “Possibly even boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?” she scoffed. “As if.”

“Eh, well, you’re a lot more popular with boys than you’ve ever realized. Jiro kept you so close and isolated, you never noticed the boys. Maybe now that you’re older you’ll become the little heartbreaker your father said you’d be,” she snickered at the last point.

She snorted, pulling the covers to her chin. “He never said that.”

“He did,” she insisted. “He kept saying he’d have to train more to fight off the line of boys that’ll be at our door.” She then said, “Just make sure he’s a nice boy? You know, who comes from a good family, has a job, is kind and gentle with you. A real gentleman.”

“Oh, Ma, can we stop the boyfriend talk, please?”

Midori laughed at her daughter’s groaning, remembering briefly how her husband used to do the same. “Alright, fine. Goodnight, Blossom.”

“Night, Ma.”

****

Her mother busy with setting up the salon and acquainting herself with employees, she’d left Sakyia to her own devices. She ate a quick breakfast of leftovers and washed up. Pulling on her father’s bomber jacket, dark navy and worn in the seams, she tied up half of her hair and went downstairs to find stacks of parcels left on the counter. Hana moved around them, smiling at her.

“Ah good, you’re here,” she said, kissing Sakyia’s cheek. “I got some packages that need to be sent as soon as possible. Don’t worry, I picked out local places so you can get familiar with Sannoh first. That way, if you decide you don’t want the job, my regulars won’t be accustomed to you.”

“Sounds good to me,” she nodded. “What do I do with them? Can that little bike hold all these?”

Hana began explaining the job to her. People normally made calls to have packages picked up or dropped off from one place to another. Sakyia only needed to drop it off, have them sign for it, and she went on to the next place. To pick up orders, she’d have to go to the address on the appointment sheet, and make sure to be there on time since the longer she took, the lower her tip is likely to be. The job sounded easy enough, especially with the bike in the back.

“Here it is,” Hana led her to the courtyard behind the shop, each woman carrying stacks of boxes.

Against a wall leant an aquamarine and white motor scooter. The previous owner painted orange and red flames on the back, and plastered bumper stickers that were later scratched off. Sakyia never rode one before, but it could not be much different from a motorcycle, which she knew how to navigate decently. Attached to the back was a wire cart, which she guessed added extra space for parcels.

“It’s not the fanciest thing in the world,” Hana said, putting her stack carefully in the cart. “But it runs well. If you ever have trouble, there’s a little mechanic shop in town where you can go. Yamato is very good at fixing bikes.”

She recalled Yamato from the previous night. “Hm, noted,” she said, adding hers beside them.

“Here are the keys,” she handed her a small set of keys. “The first place on your list is the Dan Convenience store. The owner is a good friend, but he’s too busy with the store to pick them up. Make sure they get there in one piece.”

Sakyia looked at the clipboard her aunt put on top of the parcels. On it were several names, addresses, and times to be delivered. Her aunt must’ve spent the early morning making phone calls to get them. She supposed she should start right away. Putting on the matching helmet hanging off the handle, she guided the bike around the side of the shop and onto the street. She typed the address into her navigation app, and saw a clear path to the little store. She planted herself firmly on the seat, nerves starting to numb her fingers and toes as she turned on the engine. It hummed to life underneath her, and she pressed the pedal to jolt forward. The first few starts startled her, but once she finally turned onto the street, she got the hang of it. Thankfully, years of maintaining balance helped.

The app took her to a small store a few blocks away. It appeared to be the typical convenience store, with the wide windows displaying special deals or sales. She turned off the bike and removed her helmet. She went over what she’d say as she picked up the first of the big boxes. A simple ‘hello, package for you’ might be a good start. It did not need to be a whole conversation. Though, being the newcomer in town, she might have to actually have a conversation. She’d done fine the other night in the diner. This won’t be any different. Keep things easy. Keep things flowing.

“Welcome!” Two voices said in unison.

Twin girls stood up from the register counter, hands behind their backs and formally bowing their heads when she walked in. She noticed they wore pink and black jackets, and long pink aprons. They were also tall. They almost towered over her.

“Um, good morning,” Sakyia said, “I have some packages for the owner…” she looked at the name on her clipboard, “Dan?”

“Dan’s not the owner,” said the twin with long brown hair.

“His dad is,” said her sister, who had shorter hair in two braids.

“He’s not here right now.”

“You can leave the packages with us.”

“Alright…” she said, but then someone else came up.

“Oh, Sakyia, you’re here.”

It was Dan, one of the Sannoh members, she remembered. Tall with black hair parted to the side, he gave her a smile as he wiped his hands on his apron.

“Morning, Dan,” she said, showing she hadn’t forgotten his name. “I take it by the name, this is your family’s store?”

“Yes, it is,” he nodded, taking the box from her carefully. “My dad’s not here, but I can sign for the packages.”

“Okay, good.”

She handed him the clipboard, and stared around the store. She recalled the empty fridge back home, and considered picking up some of the basics. Sakyia knew she had time in between locations to put the things back home. “Do you sell ready-to-eat meals?” she heard herself ask, peeking the fridges along the wall.

“We do,” he nodded, handing her the clipboard. “We sell lots of things here for a lady on the go,” she noticed his friendly smile, “As well as necessities.”

“Hm, good,” she nodded. “My mom and I moved in yesterday, and neither of us has had time to shop.” She checked her phone for the time. She could do a bit of shopping.

“Oh, so you’re the newcomer,” said the long-haired twin. “Naomi mentioned you. I’m Oshiage-”

“-And I’m Shiba,” said the short-haired one. “She said your mother’s a hairstylist-”

“-And that she’s opening up Sungmi’s salon.”

Did they always do that? Sakyia nodded slowly, “Yeah, she’s working there. She’s really good at what she does. Her salon back home was really popular.”

“Where was, um, home?” Dan asked, hands in his back pockets. “Ms. Kimura mentioned you came from another district.”

“Chikuni Bay,” she answered. “We lived near the warehouse district by the water until we had to move.”

“Gosh, it must’ve been nice living by the water,” he smiled, gazing over her face. Why was he doing that? It unnerved her.

“She’s not interested,” said Shiba, irritably.

“Stop being a creep.”

“I’m not being a creep!” he exclaimed, mouth agape and a blush tinging his cheeks. “I’m only being friendly, that’s all. She’s new and as part of the Sannoh Hoodlum Squad, it’s my duty to make people feel welcome here.”

They rolled their eyes together, unconvinced by his argument. “I think I’ll go, um, get the rest of the boxes-” she began to say, backing away to the doors.

“-No, no, I’ll get them,” Dan insisted. “You can take a look around the shop in the meantime.”

“Alright, thanks.”

She left him to get the packages, while she picked up a basket. Scanning the different aisles, she picked out bread and fruits for the home. She’d been looking at the refrigerated area, examining the different types of ready-to-eat meals on the shelves, when she heard another person enter the store.

“Hey Junko,” the twins said together.

“Hey Twin Towers.”

Sakyia did not really pay much mind to the women who walked into the store. She’d been deciding between a curry meal or a bento box when footsteps approached. The chicken curry and rice sounded more to her mother’s taste. She’d be fine with a bento.

“Hey,” a voice caught her attention. She looked to see two girls dressed in black with long pink and white jackets standing a few feet from her. The one with the short black hair seemed to have spoken. “You’re Ms. Kimura’s niece?”

“I am,” she nodded, putting the two items in her basket. “Who are you?”

“I’m Junko,” she said. “This is Asuka,” she nodded to the girl wearing a long ponytail behind her. “We’re part of Ichigo Milku.”

“Strawberry milk?”

“It’s our favorite drink,” said Asuka. “It's our gang name.”

Ah, another Sannoh gang. “That’s…cool,” Sakyia said, “I wasn’t aware Sannoh had a girl gang.”

“We’re the only ones,” Junko said proudly. “We take care of the women in Sannoh, and make sure they’re safe.”

“How admirable,” she checked her time again, and saw she was running out. “It was nice meeting you guys, but I gotta check out and then get back on my route.”

“We heard your mom’s opening up Sungmi’s salon,” Junko said. “Is she any good?”

“She’s amazing,” she told them honestly. “She does my hair all the time.” Like with Naomi, she showed them her hair cut. “It’s faded out, but she retouches it for me when she has the time,” she added, in case they thought the dye job was bad. She walked over to the register, putting down her items. It wasn’t much, but enough to get them until they could shop together. “She’s hired nail artists too, if you all are interested in that,” she said, “and all the old stylists that used to work there before Sungmi left.”

“That sounds great!” Asuka beamed, “I’ve been dying to get my nails done!”

“Us too!” the two twins said.

They began scanning her items when she spotted the cupcake display. Vanilla and chocolate cupcakes with different colored frosting and sprinkles lined a small case by the register. They looked good. Sakyia could not remember the last time she ate anything sweet. Jiro often kept her on a strict diet, and prohibited sweets. She knew if he stood next to her, he’d sharply scold her for thinking about it. It made her want one even more.

“-Junko,” Asuka whispered her name and nodded to the door.

Sakyia saw Junko’s hard exterior melt once she looked at the door. She turned to see Cobra walking into the shop, hands in his pockets. Sakyia guessed Junko liked him by how she stared at him with dreamy eyes. It reminded her of the girls she used to know in school. She recalled how they acted around boys they liked, and the stupid things they did to get his attention. Sakyia never had time to care about boys; Jiro took up most of it. Cobra noticed them all in the shop, and his eyes locked with hers for a moment. He was as broody today as he’d been last night. Still such a mystery to her.

“Morning,” she said politely, nodding her head at him.

“Morning, Sakyia.”

He took a spot behind her in line, and she noticed the nervous glances Junko and the other girls gave one another. She turned back to the twins, who finished scanning and bagging her meager selection.

“You’re taking up Koichi’s job then?” Cobra asked her, much to the shock of the other girls.

“I am,” she nodded, fishing for her wallet in her jacket pocket. “It helps out my aunt’s business and gives me a little extra money.”

“I’m glad Hana’s back in business,” he said. “Her service helps a lot of people in Sannoh.”

“And helps me out at the same time,” she said, trying her best to joke. He made her nervous with his stare and his handsome face and his presence. She looked at the dessert display again. “How much are the cupcakes?” she asked the twins.

“216 yen each,” said Shiba.

She sucked her teeth. Her slight against Jiro would have to wait another day. She paid for everything, and stepped aside. Another check of her phone told her she needed to get going before her next appointment. She hated her impulsive decisions. Dan having removed his packages, she had space for her bags.

“I’ll see you all around,” she said. That’s something friendly people say, don’t they?

“See ya, Sakyia!” said Asuka and the twins.

“Bye Sakyia!” Dan popped out from the back with a wide smile. “Come back whenever you want, really!”

“Ugh, you’re so pathetic, Dan,” said one of the twins.

Junko seemed too transfixed on Cobra, who only nodded at Sakyia. She felt his eyes on her still as she left the shop. It bothered her so damn much. Why did he have to stare? It made her hot under the collar, and her cheeks flushed pink. She set her bags down inside securely, then looked to see that she needed to get to her next location soon. She entered the next address on her phone when someone came up beside her.

"Here."

Cobra stood next to her bike, handing her a small bag. Inside, on a plate, sat a vanilla cupcake with baby blue frosting. Sakyia looked between him and the cupcake, a bit confused and stunned.

"Thank you," she said, gingerly taking the bag. "You didn't have to do that. I would've gotten it another time."

"I wanted to," he replied, shrugging.

She straddled her bike and put on her helmet with urgency. The small gesture reminded her of another person she’d known. He liked to give her random gifts as well; he used to brush it off too. Jesse was never one for grandiose gestures of affection even at fourteen. She placed the cupcake bag with the ones in the cart, and looked back at him.

“Why?”

“You looked like you could use it.”

“I could use a lot more things than a cupcake.”

“Still, we can find happiness in the little things too, you know.” Her phone pinged, and he said, “Looks like you have a busy day ahead.”

“Seriously busy,” she said. “My aunt’s orders are super backed up; there’s more waiting at the store. I’m sure it would’ve been worse if your friends hadn’t helped her before.”

“Your family’s business helps a lot of people around here, and Hana’s a good friend of my parents,” he said. “It would’ve been cruel of me to not lend a hand. She also helps keep the balance around here.”

“Balance? What ‘balance’?”

“Between the gangs in SWORD,” he answered. “There are five gangs in Chikuni, and we all use your aunt’s business when we want to deal with one another. That way, nobody walks into each other’s territories without warning first.”

“SWORD? The city’s Chikuni though.”

“It’s the nickname. I thought your aunt told you?”

“She neglected to mention it to me,” she grumbled. “Five gangs? Are they dangerous?”

“They can be, if you’re not careful. But, I’m sure once you tell them who you work for, they’ll lay off you,” he explained. “I’m sure Hana’s already informed the other leaders about you too.”

“Lovely. She warns them, but not me.”

“She probably didn’t want to scare you off the job,” he suggested. “Besides, perhaps she thinks you’re capable of handling it. Koichi was a pretty good fighter too.”

“Fighting?”

“Like I said, ‘five gangs’.” He stepped forward, “I could, you know, come with you? That way, you’ll have some protection.”

“I don’t need it.” She said this quicker than she meant to. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Her sudden rejection didn’t upset Cobra. He smirked and said, “Yeah, you will be, huh?”

She hated the feeling that smirk gave her. Cobra’s gentle eyes and words made her nervous. Not in the ‘fight-or-flight’ way she’d become so accustomed to either. Her mother used to call it ‘the butterflies’, and she didn’t like them. They made her warm and hopeful, like she’d been as a girl in school.

“See you around,” she said quickly. “Thanks again for the cupcake."

"No problem."

Sakyia started the scooter and went on her way. Chikuni City had five gangs, all controlling different parts of the city, and her aunt’s little delivery business kept them from fighting. Sakyia knew the job sounded a bit too good to be true. She decided she’d ask her aunt about it later, but she’ll keep it from her mother. Her mother worries plenty about everything else; Sakyia won’t pile on any supposed possibilities. She just hoped she did not have to fight. She was done fighting. Sakyia pushed Cobra and the gangs to the back of her mind, then carried on with her day.

She dropped off a few more packages to different locations, meeting her aunt’s customers and people around the town. The gangs aside, the people of Sannoh greeted her with friendly smiles. Mrs. Saito owns an antique shop, and she gave Sakyia a small beckoning cat keychain for good luck. Mr. Ito runs a grocery store, and told her amusing stories about his youth in Sannoh whilst she waited for his signature. People seemed to know all about her parents, and her mother opened the salon. Sakyia did what she could to spread the word herself, hoping it’ll help. She’d gone to the salon for lunch, giving her mother one of the meals she’d bought, and told her about her morning.

“Ah, I remember Mrs. Saito. Your grandmother loved going into her shop. She has a lot of interesting things in there,” she smiled fondly at the memory. She sat across from Sakyia on one of the hair drying chairs, who sat on the barber chair. “I missed this place,” she said, chewing a piece of chicken curry with rice. “I always meant to bring you here one day so you can see where your father and I grew up, but I never got around to it.” She noticed the cupcake Sakyia had sitting with the rest of the groceries. “You bought a sweet treat, huh?” she smiled, “Jiro would’ve scolded you if he was here.”

“It’s why I wanted it, but I didn’t have enough for it.”

“Then how did you get it?”

She slurped some of the chicken broth in her cup, then said, “Junpei.” Her mother hid her grin behind a scoop of rice. “Ugh, it didn’t mean anything. He was only being friendly.”

“There’s a difference between ‘friendly’ and ‘friendly’, she smirked. “Your aunt tells me he’s a very nice boy.”

“Ma…” she said warningly.

“Alright, alright,” she finished off her meal, and dumped it in the trash. “I’ll lay off. But, you can at least try making friends your own age. I know that’s easier said than done, but I…I want you to have a life, Sakyia.”

She knew this. Jiro robbed her of a proper social life and childhood. From thirteen to twenty-five, Sakyia cannot say she had any ‘proper’ friends.

“You know who you should call up one day?” her mother broke into her thoughts. “That boy you used to hang around with when you were younger. What was his name? Skinny boy with black hair? Never wore his shoes the right way?”

“Jesse?”

Sakyia’s stomach rumbled, and she stopped eating her ramen. She remembered Jesse vividly. A lot of teenagers fought in the warehouse pits during her time there. The managers often pitted them against one another to keep things fair, but occasionally she’d fight people bigger than her. Jesse was one of the kids she often fought against. Strong and fast with lots of stamina, it always took several rounds before either of them went down. Jesse never yielded. He either knocked her out or she knocked him out. One night, after a fight, they got to talking in the locker room and clicked. She often met up with him at the warehouse since he lived in Little Asia, and she lived near the bay. He liked her. She didn’t know at the time, but as a woman now, the signs were obvious. He went easy on her in fights; he often tended to her wounds afterwards; he hung around her before and afterwards, and even brought her a flower for her birthday.

“I heard he’s in prison,” she said, remembering the boy who wore his sneakers like sandals. Word spread that he’d been lifted by police and gone to Rasan Prison, where he’s been for a long time. “So, there isn’t any way of ‘calling him’.” Not that she would. It’d been so long ago, she doubted her recalled her at all.

“What a shame,” her mother mused, going back to fixing up the hair station. “He’d liked you a lot.”

Her phone rang in her pocket, and Sakyia sighed. “I have to go, Ma,” she told her, cleaning up her spot and dumping the garbage. “Auntie Hana gave me a long list of drop-offs for today, so I might not be back until later.”

“Be careful, Blossom,” she said, kissing her daughter’s cheek.

They said their farewells, and Sakyia went back on her route. Sannoh didn't seem like a bad place. People were friendly in a way that threw her off at times. She blamed it on the places where she received nothing but grimaces of pain or dirty glares. She briefly remembered Jesse, who'd always smiled at her approach. He did it when he fought her too, teasing and goading her into charging at him. Sannoh might've been different after all.

The sky turned dark by the time she finished delivering packages around the area. She’d driven back towards home when she noticed the gas tank dial. The tiny yellow hand pointed dangerously close to the ‘empty’ symbol. She’ll admit she’d put off getting gas since she wanted to get to her drop offs and pickups on time. Yet, cruising through the streets, she worried she may not make it home on a near empty tank. She remembered passing a gas station on her way southwards, so she searched on her phone for the station and drove in its direction.

‘Hina Gas’ went across the top in bold letters. It appeared a bit run down, but nothing that threw her guard off. Sakyia parked the scooter by a pump, then went inside. ‘The butterflies’ made their return. Cobra sat behind the register, magazine in his lap and his feet propped on a counter. His head poked up when the doorbell jingled throughout the small store.

“Hey,” she heard herself say out loud.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be home?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“I live nearby.”

“So do I.” Why is everything an inquest with this man? “I just needed gas,” she nodded to the pumps outside, “Otherwise I’d get stranded.”

She walked up to the counter, and he stood from his chair. The air remained tense and quiet. They didn’t have to talk. It’s not needed. Yet, the butterflies continued fluttering in her stomach. Cobra put in the gas charge, and she fished through her bag for the cash.

“How was it?” he asked, processing her payment.

“Huh?”

“Your day,” he specified. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, um, it went well. My aunt kept most of the addresses in Sannoh, so at least I can see the rest of the place,” she said, fiddling with the strap of her bag. Her fingernails picked into the polyester strap, dragging over the prints nervously. “It’s actually a nice place. The people I’ve met are nice, at least. Mrs. Saito from the antique store gave me this little cat charm,” she showed it to him, the golden cat hanging from her keychain. “For good luck,” she continued. “Overall, not a bad day. How was yours?” it only felt right to ask, since he did first.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the cat. He handed her back the bills, and said, “It’s been a quiet one, that’s for sure, but not unpleasant.” He hesitated, about to add on to it before stopping himself. “It is, um, you know, getting late though. Sannoh isn’t always as pleasant at night. You really shouldn’t go on your own.”

“I have my scooter. No worries,” she insisted, putting her money away. “I can just ride away if danger comes near me.”

“Still,” he said, looking over her face, “Be careful.”

“I will, thanks. Night.”

“Night.”

She moved to leave when someone else entered the shop. Seeing his black hair hanging over his eyes, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, Noboru leaned on a walking stick as he walked in. He looked different from the young man who’d come to her old house a month and a half ago. His eyes met hers, and he gave a friendly grin.

“Oh, hello, Sakyia,” he said, giving a bow of his head. “I heard you and your mom moved into the neighborhood.” He went over to the counter, giving Cobra a fist pump. “I hope you settled in okay.”

“We did, thanks,” she said. “What happened to your leg? You weren’t injured when we met.”

“You’ve met before?” Cobra asked, looking between them.

“An accident,” he answered Sakyia. “It’s a bit of a complicated story, but I no longer work for the Iemura family.”

Sakyia did not need him to tell her more. He must’ve upset them somehow, and they’d punished him for it. She pitied him. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she told him. “You and Kawata helped my mother and I a lot. She told me later you’d been the one who suggested the exchange.”

“I thought it’d benefit everyone involved,” he shrugged. “You and your mother could have a new life somewhere else, and Iemura would get their money.”

“And Jiro?” she asked cautiously.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “They’re still looking for him, from what I heard.”

Jiro escaped them. She figured he would. He’s too cowardly to own up to his mistakes. It was why he forced Sakyia to do it. “I know this might sound harsh to say, but I hope they do find him,” she said. Knowing Jiro, he’ll crop up somewhere eventually. “He deserves whatever they give him.”

“That is a bit harsh-”

“-I’m sorry, but how do you two know each other?” Cobra asked a second time, a bit louder.

“Sakyia’s mother sold her salon in Chikuni Bay to Kuryu,” he told him before Sakyia could intervene. “I heard she’s managing Sungmi’s salon though,” he looked at Sakyia. “I was just talking to Naomi, and she told me.”

“She is.”

“Why did she sell her salon?” asked Cobra.

“Because we were moving,” Sakyia lied. “She couldn’t manage it from somewhere else, so she sold it to start over.”

Cobra did not believe her. She could tell in the way he slightly raised his eyebrows. “I gotta go,” she said hurriedly. “It’s getting late, and my mom’s waiting. I’ll see you guys around.”

“Night,” Noboru said innocently.

“Night.”

She left the gas station before any more questions came up. Her mother waited for her at home, and she’d been out too long already. She didn't have time for anyone’s prying questions.

Especially not Cobra’s.

114 notes · View notes

i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Yknow when you wanna write but you don’t know what you wanna write or rather you know what you wanna write but you don’t wanna write it but you want to write and like you don’t wanna write something else but you also don’t wanna write that specific thing that you wanna write

Anyone else?

#writing #writing struggles #writing block #writer’s block #i wanna write but i can’t write #someone help

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Kimura Delivery Service: Prologue

Pairing: OC x S.W.O.R.D leaders (yes, you read that right)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst,

Word Count: 7k

Fandom: High & Low: The Story of S.W.O.R.D

Summary: After a life of swinging her fists, Sakyia is hopeful about her easy going job of delivering packages...However, her aunt neglected to mention the "regulars": The gang leaders of S.W.O.R.D. and the undeniable affection they all grow to have for her.

Overall Warnings: blood and violence, fighting, gang activity, crime, mentions of death, multiple relationships, girlboss being a girlboss, not really 'poly' but girl has a string of lovers,

***

Sixteen, she surmised. Lean, limber, and tall, he did not look his age at all, which is why they let him enter the ring. Not that the managers cared about the age. They’d turned a blind eye to thirteen-year-old Sakyia back then too. She saw the determined look on his face when he stepped into the pit, a circular spot bordered by short wooden planks. She heard his manager’s shouts from his side as she wrapped her knuckles with bandages, telling him that she’s only a girl and he’d look weak losing to a girl. These words seemed to fuel Yoshi’s eagerness to win. It was either that or his manager’s severe debts. They’d fueled her too until she actually saw Yoshi in the light. He did not have the aged looks other fighters had; he was fresh and young. A child.

“Jiro!” the young woman turned to the large man standing off to the side. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and she could see the heat of the warehouse beading sweat on his forehead. “Jiro,” she moved close to him, “I’m not fighting.”

“The hell you mean you’re not fighting?” he asked with angry eyes. “A lot of things depend on this fight. What are you talking about?”

“He’s a kid, Jiro!” she retorted, calling over the loud crowd around the ring. “Look at him! Just look at him!”

“I am looking,” he said, “And that looks like someone who wants to be here. If he gets fucked up, it’s his own fault!”

Sakiya knew that was not true. She looked back at Yoshi, who was talking to an older gentleman on the other side. The man poured reassurances that made the boy nod his head. He did not appear as confident as before. She could tell the man was psyching Yoshi up, trying to get him in the mood to fight someone. He did not pick this fight; he did not want to be here. Nobody ever wants to be in the fighting pits. The underground fighting rings in the warehouse district were not the typical boxing matches. They did not end after a few rounds. They ended when someone passed out, yielded, or died. She gazed around the large empty warehouse. They’d blocked off the ring with wooden barriers, and spread sawdust and dirt on the floor for an easier clean up. She saw dozens of faces standing around, already cheering and holding their betting tickets. She knew a lot of people counted on her to win, but winning did not always end pretty.

“I don’t know about this,” she told her stepfather. “You know how these-”

“-Get in the damn ring, girl!” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her close. The stench of sweat and cigars made her nose wrinkle, and his hot breath suffocated her. “You want those men to come back? Because, if I don’t pay them tonight, they’ll come back and they won’t be so lenient like they were today. Do you want to see your mom in the hospital? Hm?”

Sakyia glared at him, and twisted out of his grip. Her forceful push shocked him for a second, but then he smirked. It was a dirty trick. She thought back to the men who’d accosted her mother earlier that day. They’d come seeking out Jiro, but found her instead. Sakyia saw her by their front door, holding her groceries as three men circled her. Thankfully, Sakyia appeared before they could truly hurt the small woman. They told her that if Jiro did not have their money by tonight, they’d come back with more men. She did not know who Jiro owed money to now, but they were not above hurting families. Winning this match would keep her mother safe. So, she turned back to the center where Yoshi met her.

“What are you doing here, kid?” she asked him as the referee approached the ring. “Really? This place isn’t for children.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m eighteen,” he defended.

“Sure, you are,” she scoffed. “You should forfeit while you can,” she fixed the bandages on her hands and knuckles, “So you don’t get hurt.”

“I doubt you can take me on. You should be the one forfeiting the fight before you break a nail.”

“Break a nail? Is that the best you can do?” she snorted out a laugh. “If I break a nail it’s because I smashed it into your pretty face, little boy.”

The referee stepped over the wooden fence and came between them. He mentioned something about a ‘clean fight’ which amused Sakyia. Nothing about the pits was clean. It took a ring of a bell to set everything off. Her body immediately tensed and she raised both her fists up. She took a deep breath as she moved her body to a fighting position. She could do this; she’d done it dozens of times before now. The fact that her opponent was a boy changed nothing; there’s too much at risk to forgive that.

Sakyia made the first swing. Her punch was as fast as a snake. Yoshi surprised her by blocking and punching back, barely missing her head. Another punch. She grunted as he grabbed her arm, twisting it and forcing her to kick him until she came free.

Damn, he was better than she’d expected.

“Not bad, kid!” she exclaimed as she kicked his stomach, throwing him back against the fence. The spectators roughly pushed him back into the ring, and she sighed. “But not good enough.”

He played defense, most likely hoping she’d tire herself out if he hung back. Her father taught her all the signs. Her real father, not Jiro. They don’t really hit back; they'll mostly block or dodge the hits. He told her to do the same when this happened. Either they end up dancing in circles, or her opponent is forced to start fighting. When Sakyia stepped back, it forced Yoshi to move into the center, and that was when she attacked. In a series of fast, hard blows she knocked Yoshi to the ground. But, he tripped her by the ankle and she slammed down onto the floor beside him. She groaned at the impact, and this put her guard down a moment. She imagined her father being there where Jiro stood. He’d be cheering her on. He’d be throwing encouragement and pointers. Then again, her father would’ve never brought her here. They would be at home with their punching bag or eating dinner with her mother.

“Stop playing around and finish him already, Sakyia!”

She should’ve stayed down. She should’ve faked an injury. Sakyia was more than aware how these fights ended. But, she recalled the men at their door and her fearful mother. If she yielded, she lost her earnings. So, she stood on her feet again. Her eyes glanced over to where Jiro stood talking with a man in a black suit. She hated him. She hated him from the moment she met him. She wished they’d just kill Jiro and leave her mother alone. It was because of him that she’d entered the warehouse at all.

She’d been a skinny twelve-year-old when Jiro came into their lives. He’d claimed to own a famous car dealership, a nice house and even a boat. He’d managed to pull it off while her mother and him dated, but once they married, she found out the truth. Jiro gambled most of his money away. He went bankrupt and sold his car dealership. He sold his boat to pay off some loan sharks, and he lost his house to the bank. He promised her mother he’d stop his gambling ways, but never did.

It did not help that his self-loathing projected onto her mother, a thin woman who never hurt a fly. Sakyia tried protecting her, but she’d been too small to fight him. Jiro eventually realized her skills when he caught her fighting a pair of boys who’d followed her home. Rather than sell her like most scoundrels do for money, he pushed her into a fighting pit. Thirteen-years-old by this time, he told the men who ran the fights that she was “old enough”. She doubted the men believed him, but still accepted her. Sakyia, despite hating the fights, was rather good. Her mother never approved of the fighting. Even if he gave her black eyes or swollen cheeks, she still protested against it. Not that Jiro listened. Sakyia soon gained a reputation for her hard, quick fists, earning the nickname ‘Viper’.

A stupid name that she hated.

She blocked Yoshi’s blows, despite the impact making her muscles and bones burn. Their arms locked together, and each of them began punching the other’s side. She made sure each hit counted. All she needed to do was get him to yield the fight. If he yielded, he’d leave intact. They broke apart, and Yoshi kicked her back. The blow took air from her chest, but she recovered quickly enough to grab his ankle in the second kick. She managed to turn it so he fell.

She saw the fight starting to wear Yoshi down. Her father always told her fighting was hard on novices, who used all their energy too quickly. She saw him using the fence to get onto his feet again, and struggling to breathe properly. He was only a child. This was not the place for him.

“Yield,” she said over the crowd, “Yield and go outside.”

“No,” he shook his head. She spotted a glimmer of fear in his eyes when they met, desperation mingling with it. “I can’t.”

He moved once more. He charged forward and punched her face again. Up against the fence, he started pounding on her torso and sides through her shield. She waited him out before pushing him away with an elbow to the face, then a backhand afterwards. It was a clear kick to the chest that landed Yoshi into the dirt. She heard his choked gasp and cough when he hit the floor. Sakyia saw him clawing the dirt and sawdust under his fingernails, rolling to his side and coughing. She’d turned to Jiro.

“Finish him!” he called out to her, gesturing to the boy on the floor.

“He’s down! It’s over!” she called back, shocked by what was happening.

“I said ‘finish him’! Do you want them to come back?!”

Sakyia turned back to Yoshi, who still struggled for air. She watched his chest heave up and down as it tightened. In her heart, she knew how wrong it was. Looking up, she spotted the three men from earlier in the day. They wore fancy suits with small golden pins on their lapels. They watched her with expectant gazes. She knew then why she was being pushed to murder this boy.

Jiro promised them she would do it.

“Finish him, Viper! Finish him!” Jiro shouted angrily, hitting the fence with his fists.

She ignored him. She saw the men watching her still. The tallest one, dark with his hair slicked back from his face, opened his jacket to reveal a gun. He kept his eyes on her and she did not look away. She knew what he said without hearing the words: ‘Finish the damn fight’.

Sakiya stared right at the stranger, then back to Yoshi. She saw the boy clutch at his chest, gasping deeply and coughing up the dust around him. She looked up to the stranger again. She cannot let this boy die. Whatever slight him or his family caused was not her responsibility to handle. She ignored Jiro’s protests and the jeering crowd around her. “I yield,” she said to the referee, “Go get the doctor.”

“What?! Are you insane?!” she heard Jiro call from behind her.

“Are you sure?” the referee asked.

“I’m sure.”

She saw the disapproving looks the suits gave her, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t a killer. They could get their money another way. Sakiya walked over to Yoshi, who struggled to breathe. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently, bending down to him and helping him sit up, “Just relax.”

“Yoshi!” the old man hurriedly approached them, holding up an inhaler. “Here,” he bent down and pressed the inhaler to Yoshi’s mouth with a wrinkled hand, “Breathe.”

Sakiya held Yoshi’s head as his grandfather pumped air through the small container. A rough hand then yanked her to her feet and spun her around. Jiro’s beady eyes glared into hers, and she didn’t move away. “Do you realize what you’ve done?! What’s the matter with you?”

“I wasn’t going to let him die,” she spat back. “If you want to settle your debts this way, then you do it,” she shoved him with a hand, putting her bloody bandages on his chest. “I’m done.”

“Done? What do you mean you’re ‘done’? You got two more rounds to go! We have to pay back those guys or they’ll get your-”

“-It’s your problem now,” she shot back over her shoulder before storming off.

‘The next round’. He truly expected her to continue fighting after Yoshi. Sakyia clenched her fists holding back her anger. Hot tears brimmed her eyes, but she did not dare cry in front of Jiro.

She walked away from the ring to an employee locker room. There was nobody there but her. She saw the medical kit on the bench, but did not take anything from it. Despite the burning pain on her nose, the caked blood on her upper lip, she couldn’t be bothered at the moment. In the fluorescent lighting of the room, she finally saw her hands. Her wrappings left indents on her skin in places, and she saw Yoshi’s blood staining her fingers. She unwrapped them as she walked over to a sink to quickly wash it off. She could still hear Yoshi’s shallow gasps as he inhaled more dust and sand. She spotted the bruises on her knuckles, and knew they’d hurt in the morning. She pitied him, and hoped the inhaler saved him. Sakiya was a lot of things, but she was not a killer. She wasn’t going to become somebody’s weapon. She splashed cool water on her hot face, putting some on the back of her neck and letting it fall into her scalp. The soothing water cooled down her hot cheeks. She needed a moment to think. She needed a plan to get out.

“You said you’d have the money by tonight, Jiro,” she heard a man’s voice echo somewhere nearby. Standing upright, she turned off the sink to listen.

“I-I-I will,” Jiro said in a shaky voice. “The girl is just freaked out. You know women; they’re so sensitive when it comes to these things. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be back out there. You’ll have your money, Nikadio. I promise.”

“You better, if you know what is good for you.”

The voices outside brought her back and she knew what to do. She grabbed her backpack and dark green jacket from a nearby locker, made sure she had everything, and stood up to leave. She needed to go home. Her mother was there waiting for her. If she hurried, they could run away. She did know where they’d go, but they had to get away. If they stayed with Jiro any longer, they’d both end up dead. When Sakyia left the locker room, she made to move towards the exit doors before a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Where are you going?” Jiro gripped her arm hard, “You still have two more fights. We’re not done tonight. Those men are dangerous people. If they don’t get their money, they’ll come back to the house and hurt your mother.”

“Stop acting like you care about her so much! We both know you don’t,” she shot back, twisting herself out of his grasp and staring him down. “I’m done being your race horse. I’m not going to kill a kid because you promised a bunch of gangsters that you’d do it for them. Settle your debts on your own or get out of town before they toss you into the river.”

“You little, ungrateful bitch! After all I’ve done for you! This is how you repay me?!” She heard him storm after her, and reach for her again.

Sakyia balled up her fist tightly and punched his lower jaw. With a small jolt, Jiro dropped to the ground on his side. She was about to turn away before she spotted the rolled up bills hanging from his pocket. She did not waste any more time. She rifled through his pocket, took the money and his car keys and rushed down the hallway through the exit. She needed to get home.

****

“Ma, Ma! Ma, Pick up!”

Sakyia tapped her mother’s number on her phone once more. Her heart raced thinking of what she might find when she came home. Jiro might be an idiot, but he was right. If the gangsters see that they’re not getting their money tonight, they’ll send a message. What if the man in the suit called his friends to go over to her house? What if they’d taken her mother somewhere? Racing down the street, she nearly screamed from the adrenaline in her body. She had trouble keeping her eyes on the road while dialing and redialing her mother’s number. Every time she heard the ringtone over the speaker, a message came out:

“Hello! This is Tanaka Midori. I am not available right now, but if you leave your name and number, I will call you back-”

“-Why did you get a phone if you won’t answer it when I call you?!” she grunted and tossed her phone into the passenger’s seat.

She kept her eyes peeled on the road for any suspicious cars. Not that she’d be able to tell in the first place. Ending up on her street, she spotted a black car parked outside her house. A thousand horrible scenarios played through her mind as she stepped on the breaks outside. They’d already come. She was too late. She slammed her hands on the wheel angrily, her heart thumping hard in her chest. Quickly, she rushed out of the car, up the steps to their door, and fumbled the keys. She heard people talking on the other side, and she gulped thickly. Her entire body tensed in preparation for a fight. She tried steadying her breathing, but there didn’t seem to be a point anymore.

“Ma! Ma, I’m here!” she called out frantically into the hallway.

But, it was not screams she heard. Nobody had ransacked the house or left any sort of damage behind. She heard people in the living room chatting jovially and laughing. Confusion set in when she walked into the living room to see three people there. Her mother, Midori, sat wearing her silk dressing gown over pink pajamas; her black hair in curlers underneath a matching hair bonnet. On their loveseat sat two men: one older and one younger. The older gentleman wore a tweed gray suit and a gold watch; the younger had black hair cropped over his eyes and wore a dark navy jacket and pants. The elder was talking to her mother, who laughed at something he said. She’d set out her nicest tea set, and a small plate of treats.

Something she only brought out for “important” guests.

“Ma?”

The three people looked over to her. “Ah, there she is! You’re home early. I thought you’d be out much later,” her mother beamed, standing up to greet her. “Oh gosh, look at your face! And your nose!” she gasped and began examining her daughter’s face, “It was already kinda crooked. I hope this doesn’t make it worse. Where’s Jiro?”

“Ma, what’s happening?”

“Good things now,” her mother assured her. “These two gentlemen,” she gestured to the men on the sofa, “Came to see Jiro about the money he owes them.”

“But...What about…” the scene all together made her head hurt. She stared around at them in confusion, trying to make sense of everything. “Those men from today…”

“Don’t worry about them,” said the older gentleman, “Those were some punks we sent to intimidate Jiro. I told your mother we had no idea they would treat her like they did. We’re sorry if they gave you any cause to worry about your mother’s safety or wellbeing.”

She thought she might faint. When she swayed, her mother helped her into a chair. “I’ll go get the kit from upstairs,” her mother said, “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Who...Who are you two?” Sakiya’s questions came out in rapid fire. “Why are you in my house? Why are you here and not at the warehouse where Jiro is?”

“I am Kawata,” the elder man said, shaking hands with her and then sipping from his teacup. “I am a representative of the Ieruma-Kai group. This is Noboru, who is also part of our organization.” He put his cup down and said, “Your stepfather owes our clan a great sum of money. Your fighting tonight was supposed to cover a small part of it-”

“-Did that part involve murdering Yoshi?”

“You killed him?” Noboru looked at her with wide eyes, “You actually killed him?”

It hurt hearing someone say it that way. “I...I didn’t…” the tears suddenly returned, but she fought them away, “I yielded to the fight before anything serious could happen to him. He...He was coughing a lot. He had trouble breathing. I-I-I told him to go outside and get some air. He shouldn’t have been in that place like that. He’s only a kid.”

“Yes, his father mentioned he had asthma,” nodded Kawata. “All the sawdust and dirt must’ve not been easy on his lungs.”

“Why was he there?” Sakyia glared at them.

“Probably to pay off his father’s debts like you,” the man replied. “You know just as well as us how dangerous the fighting pits can be if you’re not careful.”

“He’s a kid. He couldn’t be older than fifteen or sixteen,” she replied.

“The father was too old to fight, and the boy seemed eager to prove himself,” Kawata reasoned. “From what Jiro tells us, you’d been younger than him when you were thrown into the ring.”

“Really?” Noboru asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh yes,” Kawata answered, “Sakyia here was-what?-thirteen? Fourteen-years-old?"

"Thirteen, sir."

Sakyia preferred not to think of those days. Like Yoshi, she'd gone into the ring scared and confused. Luckily, some of the older fighters took pity on her. They did not hit as hard, and some gave her tips or tricks she could use. Her father began her training, but when a car accident took his life, those people became her teachers. Jiro saw the potential in her, he claims, and exploited it for his own benefit. Sakyia could not count the number of times she'd fought to earn him money. Not for the family, but for him.

“Since you were thirteen?” Noboru asked. She recognized the pity in his voice, and did not need it. “But…you must’ve been so much smaller than your opponents.”

“Do not be fooled by her size,” Kawata said. “I’ve seen you fight, young lady. My boss calls you ‘the Little Viper’ with those fast jabs of yours.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard the name thrown around. Jiro said all the great fighters have nicknames,” she rolled her eyes and wiped the side of her mouth with her sleeve. It’d stopped bleeding thankfully. “I always thought it was a silly name.”

“A silly name that gained you a lot of recognition in those warehouses.”

“Oh, I hate that place,” Midori reappeared with the medical kit. She set it on the coffee table, and grabbed disinfectant, “You always come home with these nasty bruises and you’re limping all over the place. It’s not right. I told Jiro over and over that if he wanted to pay off his debts, he should settle it on his own.” Sakyia winced when the small wet cloth touched her cut nose, but her mother kept her still. “I didn’t care if he hit me or not. I didn’t want him throwing you into the fire.”

“And we completely understand,” Kawata said to her. “Sakyia is a very pretty, charming, young woman. She should be out with her friends and going to college.”

“Exactly my point!” Midori agreed. She wiped the dried blood from Sakyia’s face, then continued, “I worried it’d end like this. I worried one day he’d drive you to do something reckless or dangerous that would get someone killed.”

“There was a man there,” Sakyia said to Kawata. “He was wearing a black suit. He had short black hair slicked back from his face. I overheard him talking to Jiro about the fight.”

Kawata thought, then said, “Ah yes, that must’ve been Nikaido. He works with us too. He was there to collect your earnings tonight.” He paused, “Did you run into him?”

“No, I saw him, but we never spoke. So, you’re telling me you didn’t mean for Yoshi to die? That it wasn’t some elaborate way of sending a message or something?”

They both chuckled softly, then Kawata said, “Of course not. If we want to kill someone, we do it ourselves. Whatever happens to Yoshi after tonight is a result of the fighting ring, not us.”

She looked up at her mother. Her headache from all the confusion pulsed in her temples, and she didn’t know what to say. “I...Mama...I’m…”

“I think it’s about time you gentlemen were off,” Midori said to the two men. “My daughter needs rest and I believe our formal business is done.”

Kawata bowed his head, “Yes, ma’am.”

They stood up together and they each thanked her for her hospitality. Kawata told her someone from Ieruma would stop by the salon to check it out, and she led them out. Once they were gone, she returned to Sakyia on the chair. Looking up at her mother, who smiled warmly at her, she sobbed. The tears she’d tried withholding came forth in hard trembles. She leaned forward, her head in her hands as she cried. Her mother gave her a tender pat on the back and stroked her head.

“It’s alright, Blossom,” she said softly, sitting her up and stroking her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing has happened; I’m sure the boy will be alright.”

“I couldn’t do it, Mama. I couldn’t finish the fight,” she took a deep breath, “I thought something awful was going to happen to you.” She blinked the tears from her eyes, until she wiped them with her sleeves. “The Ieruma men weren’t going to get their money, so I thought they’d come and hurt you. Jiro’s problems have always become our problems, and I’m sick of it. I didn’t care when it was him and me, but the fact that you were going to be dragged into it…”

She sighed sadly, and continued cleaning up Sakyia’s wounds. Smoothing over the cut on her nose, she said, “I hate that it’s become like this. The child protects the parent when it should be the other way around.” She must’ve decided stitches weren’t needed, and began disinfecting the wounds to bandage them, “Jiro is too cowardly to face his own troubles,” she said, “So he threw you in front of them. I should have left him. I should have not let him do what he did, but I...I was weak, Sakyia. I’d just lost your father and we didn’t have the salon yet. We would’ve been homeless if Jiro had not come along. I’d hoped he’d be a proper father figure to you, but I was wrong.” She placed the last plaster on the bridge of her nose and said, “It’s my fault you were there in the first place. I should have fought him harder; I shouldn’t have been so weak. I’m so sorry, Blossom. I’m sorry that I am not your-”

“-Mama,” she took her mother’s shaking hands and squeezed them gently, “Jiro would have done it whether you fought back or not. I don’t...I don’t blame you,” she sniffed back her tears. “I’m so confused,” she admitted, “Everything is happening so fast and I can’t-c-can’t keep up with it.”

“Then don’t say anything else,” she comforted, “You can just listen.” When Sakyia rested her head on her mother’s lap on the couch, Midori began: “When those three punks came up to me today, I knew Jiro was in a bad situation with bad people. I wasn’t surprised, to be honest, since Jiro only ever dealt with shady types. Yet, I noticed one of them was wearing this little golden pin on his jacket. It had a triangle with dragons around it, and I recognized the symbol. The young man who brings Yori- you remember Mrs. Ieurma, right? She’s the lady who used to give you candy when you were little?”

“I remember her.”

“Well, her chauffeur also has that little pin. When I saw her at the salon today, I told her what happened and she was shocked! She said she couldn’t believe her husband would send men to harass a lady, especially a dear friend of hers. If my husband owed money, she said, they should be harassing him. She told me she’d be speaking with him personally about it.”

“That was nice of her to do,” Sakyia said.

“Oh, Yori’s one of my oldest clients. I adore her!” she caught herself before a tangent, and said, “Anyways, she got me in touch with her husband and we talked about it at the salon.”

“You spoke to Tatsumi in person? Isn’t he, like, the boss?”

“Over the phone, yes,” she said, “He explained the entire situation to me. He said it was all business and he didn’t mean to involve us, but that Jiro did owe them a considerable amount.”

“He must know how fond Yori is of you,” Sakyia added, “To change his character so easily.”

“To be honest, it was probably because he knows Jiro wouldn’t care if either of us died,” she shrugged. “I hate to say it so harshly, but family is only a good leverage if the person you're threatening actually cares about them.”

She supposed that made sense. Her mother continued her story, “As I was saying, I spoke with Tatsumi and asked how much Jiro owed him. When I realized how much it was, I knew your earnings alone wouldn’t cover the amount. That’s why Kawata and Noboru came to visit. They came to discuss payment. I give them ownership of the salon; they cut Jiro’s debts in half and only deal with him from now on.”

“Ownership of the salon?!” Sakyia bolted upwards in her seat and looked at her mother in disbelief, “You sold the salon? Ma, that salon is your entire life! You spent years working towards it! It means everything to you, it’s your work! Your life! You can’t just-”

“-I can and I did,” she hushed her daughter gently. “The salon might have been my work, but it was not my life and does not mean everything to me.” She cupped Sakyia’s swollen cheek and looked her in the eyes, “You are, Blossom. If selling the salon meant you did not have to fight anymore, then it was worth it to me. I can rebuild a salon, but I can’t rebuild a daughter.” She gently kissed Sakyia’s forehead and hugged her close. “Tatsumi agreed to the deal and Kawata came to finalize the papers.”

“What are you going to do for work, Ma?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We can’t afford to stay here, so we’ll have to move somewhere else. But, we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” She gazed over her daughter’s face, taking in each feature and comparing them to her father. Sakyia looked like him in certain lights. “This can be a new start for the both of us; you and me,” her eyes glazed over with tears, “The way it should have been the whole time.”

“Ah, Ma…”

Midori kissed her head again, then made her eat. Sakyia didn't realize how much everything hurt until she relaxed. She swore she felt her entire body throbbing all at once everywhere. She winced when she finally stood up, feeling the fight in her muscles. She made her way upstairs, where her mother prepared a hot bath, and she sunk into it slowly. As the soothing water worked on her sore muscles, she knew one thing for certain: her mother would be safe now. Midori wouldn’t have to worry about Sakyia being injured or Jiro’s furious hits. She could focus on more important things. Sakyia considered what she might do now that she had no warehouse fights. Thinking of the future felt better than remembering the boy she’d fought tonight. Her mother would tell her to go to university, but she felt too old for that now.

Maybe she’ll know when she finally gets to wherever they’re going.

****

Their landlord gave them a month to leave the house. Midori told her that Sakyia’s aunt, Hana, had an extra room above her shop where they could stay until they got back on their feet. Sakyia remembered her aunt, a round-faced woman with coarse black hair, and felt thankful to be moving in with someone familiar. Hana joked that now they’d have someone to protect them if a robber came into the apartment.

However, remembering the shabby apartment, she doubted there’d be any burglars to worry about. Her aunt lived in a town called Sannoh which was outside their district. Her mother had grown up here, she knew. It was a small place with local businesses and friendly neighbors. As they drove through, she saw the kids playing in the street, the vendors haggling with customers at their shops, and people walking or bike riding. It seemed like such a simple place. It looked quiet and peaceful.

“Is there no post office?” Sakyia asked as they drove down the street. “I’m sure people can mail things to each other.”

“It’s an inner-district delivery service,” her mother answered. “Sometimes people need things delivered quickly and the post office doesn’t always work that way.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated, as they turned a corner, “Just things, Blossom. Nothing you need to worry about. You’ll be helping me in the salon, remember?”

“What salon?”

“Hana says our friend Sungmi is going back to Korea,” she said, “And is selling her salon.”

“Ma, you don’t have money to buy a salon. We don’t even have our own place to live yet.”

“Hey, who is the parent here, huh?” Midori laughed. “You worry about things too much, Sakyia. I’ve known Sungmi since we were in beauty school, and she said she’ll keep ownership until I’m able to pay to buy her out.” She squeezed Sakyia’s leg, “Don’t you worry, little blossom. Mama’s got this all taken care of. You and I are gonna get through this together, okay?”

Sakyia smiled. She’d spent most of her time relaxing her worn out body. It felt weird not doing anything besides training in their garage. Looking at the sketch book in her lap, she’d gone back to art like she’d done as a kid. On the page, she’d drawn a stocky man punching a large punching bag. He had a straight jawline like hers; his broad build was all muscle. She added a few strays in his black hair, and added shade to his wrapped hands. Her mind often drifted to her father in times like these, when the world felt so uncertain. She traced out the shadows of his crooked nose, which had been narrow before being broken in several fights. He’d been the strong one out of the three of them.

Then the accident happened. The weight then fell on her shoulders, because Jiro weakened her mother so significantly.

“We’re here now.”

She looked out the window to see a small storefront on the side of the road. On a faded sign above the windows, someone painted the words: “Kimura Delivery Service: Stamped, Sealed, Delivered.”

“Stamped?”

Midori chuckled, “That was from when it first opened. Your grandfather used to have this little stamp to verify packages. Now, your aunt prints a label. But, the sign meant a lot to your grandfather, so she promised she’d never change it.” Then she added, “Also, new signs cost a fortune.”

Sakyia was sure the business did not have money for anything new. Through the wide windows, she saw her aunt already standing at a counter beside a register. A young man in a red jacket stood scribbling down on a piece of paper in front of her, both chatting. She also noticed the ‘Help Wanted” sign in the corner of the window. How much business could this place be getting that she needed more help? Sakyia and her mother then stepped out of the car. Their appearance made Hana look out the window, and she smiled widely and waved. The young man noticed her waving and turned around. He was short, maybe two or three inches taller than her, with blond hair he kept parted to the side. He looked at Sakyia curiously, most likely trying to remember if he recognized her. Sakyia knew she’d never seen him before.

“Midori!” Hana cheered as they walked into the store. She moved around the counter and the sisters hugged tightly. “I thought you’d be coming in the afternoon! I would’ve closed up the office early!”

“Sakyia stayed up to pack the rest of our things,” she told her as they released each other. “And the movers put our furniture into storage yesterday.”

“We didn’t have much to begin with,” said Sakyia, shouldering her backpack. “Hello, Auntie.”

“Ah! There she is!” Hana embraced her, “My favorite niece! Oh, look how big you’ve gotten!” She moved away to take a look at Sakyia, “Good lord, girl, you’re so skinny. What has your mother been feeding you? Grass?”

Sakyia did not have the heart to tell her about the strict diet Jiro kept her on before his ‘disappearance’. She’d thought she might gain some from stuffing her face the past few weeks, but nothing goes past her Auntie Hana. She noticed the man behind them leaning against the counter, looking at them with interest. Sakyia could not get a read on him, and that bothered her.

“I tell her all that training burns off anything she eats,” her mother lied immediately, “But now that you’re here, I’m sure she’s going to be eating tons.”

“Of course!” Hana exclaimed, “A few days here, and you’ll be all rounded out.”

The young man coughed into his fist for her attention, and Hana whipped around. “Oh gosh, Junpei,” she said, coming back to the counter, “Forgive me. You finished the label?”

“It’s alright, Ms. Kimura,” he replied, “I already sealed it there for you.”

“Excellent,” she said, smoothing out the printed label he’d signed. “Ah, Junpei, this is my sister, Midori, and her daughter, Sakyia. They’re moving into the apartment upstairs. Midori, Sakyia, this is Junpei. He’s one of my more frequent customers.” She took his payment from the counter, entered it, and gave him change.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, bowing his head to them both. “Welcome to Sannoh.“

Despite his baby face, Sakyia recognized his kind right away. The gangster types who frequented the warehouses and clubs around the bayside of the city carried the same similar shadiness about them. Sakyia saw them all the time growing up: they’d be the ones placing bets, taking bets, and on the sidelines with their fighters or participating in the fights. She wondered if he’d ever gone there. The bay district might be too far for him. She stepped closer to her mother.

“You must need a lot of packages delivered quickly to be considered a regular here,” Sakyia said curiously.

“A lot of people in Sannoh use your aunt’s business,” he replied innocently. “Not everyone is able to go outside town to get packages delivered and going through post offices takes longer.”

“I can’t promise it’ll get to your friend by tomorrow,” Hana cut in. “I haven’t found a courier since Koichi quit.”

“That’s fine,” Junpei told her. “I just need it there as soon as possible."

"I understand," Hana nodded. She struggled to put the parcel on the tall stack of boxes until Junpei came and helped her. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I’m going to be buried in these boxes at this rate.”

“I can always have one of the gang come help you,” he said. “Chiharu and Dan would be glad to help.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled. “Tell them I’ll pay them well for it. If they don’t get lost, that is.”

“Dan only got lost once,” Junpei defended gently.

“Twice.”

“Alright, yes, twice. I’ll let them know and send them here.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she patted his cheek tenderly. “You take care of yourself now, and wear a helmet when you ride that thing,” she nodded to the motorcycle outside. “You could get in an accident and crack your head open.”

Junpei nodded, “I will, Ms. Kimura.” He turned over to Midori and Sakyia, and nodded again, “It was nice meeting you both.” He looked right at Sakyia as he said, “I’ll see you around.”

He reminded her of those dreamy characters in manga. The tsundere characters with kind hearts who sport leather jackets and ride motorcycles. They pretend not to care, but they care very deeply. She admitted he was handsome. Even a blind person would think he was handsome. But, something about him kept her distance, but then again, she kept everyone at a distance.

Except her mother.

Sakyia looked back to her aunt and her mother, who’d begun catching up while her aunt shut down the store for the day. She decided she’d make her way up to the apartment and begin unpacking her things. Junpei came to mind. If he was what she thought he was, then Sannoh might be more dangerous than it seemed. Sakyia remembered the gangs who’d come strutting into the warehouse; Jiro usually owed them money, so she’d become good at spotting them. They either wore flashy clothes, business suits or leather jackets. Junpei was clearly the ‘leather jacket’ kind.

She’d need to keep an eye out for him.

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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I LOooVE YOUR WORK MISS <3 a h&l scenario where readr keeps flirting with cobra at itoukan for everyone to see and cobra seems unresponsive to it, but then when they are alone reader gets taste of her own medicine with cobra teasing her by acting like hes gonna kiss her but then walks away at the last second xDD

Ehehe here it is...

It was always funny to see him blush like a teenager. You weren’t sure if it was because he was shy or maybe had a crush on you, but Cobra didn’t take compliments very well. You would tell him that his smile was pretty just for him to cast his eyes down, ears bright red. One time you touched his fingers as he handed you a drink, a coy smile on your face as you winked at him, just for a blush to take over his face as he got back in his shell. It was cute, if not a little frustrating.

But you always did love to play the teasing game, especially when the reaction was as sweet as he was.

However, tonight he was different.

Not that he looked different, but the way he was reacting towards your flirty advances was definitely out of the norm. You had done everything you usually did to make him shy throughout the night, with no satisfying results. He didn’t blush, he didn’t look away, he didn’t react. At all. Instead, all you got was just blank, boring, and - honestly - quite frustrating reactions.

“Are you immune to me now?” you drunkenly asked as you took a sip of your drink. It was late in the night and the drunker you got, the more annoyed with him you got.

“What do you mean?” he asked from his seat across from you, face an innocent expression of confusion.

“I kissed your cheek, I held your hand, I told you how pretty you are… and nothing!” you huffed in exasperation. “No reaction from you!” You didn’t even care if the others were listening, laughs and knowing looks being shared between them as you kept talking, “Am I doing something wrong?”

Cobra shrugged with a grunt, face still blank of any expression before he got up and stretched his arms over his head with a yawn. His shirt moved up just a little, showing the smooth skin of his navel beneath. It made your mouth water.

“G’night, everyone,” he said with a wave before he moved to the door. You watched as everyone waved back before you finally made the decision to follow him.

“Cobra!” you called when you reached outside, leaning against a wall when you almost lost your balance. He turned back to you with a raised brow, arms raising to stead you almost instantly. You giggled before trying to train your face into a scowl; you were supposed to be mad at him, right? “You didn’t answer me…” you drawled.

“Go back inside Y/N, you’re drunk.”

“No, m’not!” you weakly pushed against his chest. “I didn’t see you blush once the entire night… I know something’s wrong.”

You weren’t expecting what followed.

He leaned in your direction and kissed you right in the corner of your mouth. Your reaction was to chase after his lips - wanting much more than just a miserable peck - but he huffed out a laugh before taking a step back, keeping you at arm’s length.

“W-What was that for?” you asked, a heat already creeping up your cheeks.

Cobra shrugged before saying, “Two can play this game.” then he turned around and walked away without another word.

You watched him go, mouth open as you gingerly felt the spot on your face where his lips had touched.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna win it!” you laughed.

His only answer was a single wave without even looking back.

Game on.

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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Overwhelmed - nyt

Pairing: Yuta x gn/enby OC (Kye) Contents: When the party gets too rowdy, Kye thought they had escaped the others by getting outside. They thought wrong. Warnings: overwhelmed oc, weed consuption, beer drinking Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Alright so I hated the original one so I took it down and rewrote it. I think this one is much better and I hope you guys like it too! Also I know I promised a masterpost for this series, it's coming, things just got out of hand lately but we're (hopefully) back on track

*This is purely a work of fiction. It is in no way meant to represent any idol in any way, shape or form.

Voices became louder, and Kye turned around, trying to see what was going on. Johnny was nowhere to be found, and Haechan and Mark had run off who knows where, leaving Kye alone with their thoughts in the middle of the very crowded living room. Doing their best to not bump into everyone, Kye tried to make their way out of the crowd and into the kitchen, where they figured they could have a moment for themself. Everyone else seemed to be going the opposite way, trying to peak at whatever was happening over there. Mumbling ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s, Kye pushed through, ignoring as much as they could the loud and repetitive beat of the music.

A glass bottle broke, startling Kye, who spun around, spilling their drink all over someone’s shoes. Apologizing profusely, Kye kept backing up, abandoning the empty cup on their way. With the kitchen finally in sight, Kye cursed, seeing that it was just as crowded as everywhere else. The backdoor seemed like their best bet. When they got outside, they threw themself against the wall, out of breath.

“Kye? You alright?” Turning towards the voice, Kye saw Yuta, sitting on the concrete bench a bit further from the door. Kye nodded.

“In a minute,” they mumbled, but Yuta seemed to hear, since he didn’t push further. Closing their eyes, Kye tried to focus on their breathing.

If they were completly honest, Kye would have wanted any other frat brother out there right now. They didn’t have anything against Yuta, but they found him slightly intimidating. They had never really talked either, as Yuta was usually at work whenever Kye and Johnny met to work on their project. They were surprised Yuta even knew their name, given that the both of them had barely ever talked.

“Are you gonna be sick?" Yuta asked, and Kye shook their head. "You should probably sit down, then," he replied, patting the seat next to him. "I don't bite," he added, and Kye smiled, giving in.They went to sit with him, and he leaned back against the wall, bringing a joint to his lips. He really was beautiful, Kye thought. In the dim light from the patio's string lights, he looked like he was straight out of a movie. After all, his nickname was the Prince, and Kye thought whoever gave him that nickname were very right. Yuta glanced at them, and Kye looked away, feeling the heat burn their face. Fortunately for them, Yuta misread their reaction.

“Want a smoke?” He asked, stretching his arm towards them.

“Thanks,” Kye replied, taking a long drag, then very slowly blowing it out.

“Someone’s used to this,” Yuta joked.

“It’s one of the few things that help my overthinking brain to shut up sometimes,” Kye explained, and Yuta nodded.

“I get that. Do you feel better now, though? I can go and get you water."

“No, no, I’m good,” Kye paused, “and honestly… I’d rather not be alone right now. If you don’t mind,” Kye said quietly.

“I shall not leave your side, then,” Yuta said, and Kye smiled.

They sat in silence for a moment, the joint going back and forth between them. Yuta noticed how Kye was fidgeting with a strand of their ripped jeans, and Yuta handed them the joint again, then took off one of his necklaces, letting it dangle in front of Kye. It was a simple chain with a small feather carved in a black stone. Kye gave him a questioning look. “To play with. In stead of destroying your jeans. And your skin,” he said, noticing the raw skin around Key’s nails. Kye hesitantly took the necklace, running their fingers along the feather. It felt cool and soft, and their focus fully on the piece of jewelry for a moment, examining every side and smooth curve on the little object. Yuta watched them, a fond smile on his lips.

“Do you like it?” He asked, and Kye nodded. He thought they looked very cute, staring at his necklace as if it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, analyzing every single part of it. He almost let himself tell them to keep it, but he cleared his throat instead. “So what was happening back there?”

“No idea. Everyone got loud and started pushing around to get a better view so I just dipped,” Kye explained.

“Hmm. Probably just Haechan doing a keg stand or something.”

“That would add up, yeah,” Kye laughed. “What are you doing smoking all alone out here?”

“Couldn’t find anyone to come with me.”

“In a frat house full of partying uni students? Yeah right." A beat passed. "You didn’t ask me,” Kye stated, eyes glued to the feather.

“I didn’t know you smoke. In fact, I don’t know you at all. Other than your name, of course.”

“What do you mean you don’t know me? We see each other all the time!” Kye said, falsely offended.

“Yeah, like half a second.”

“That’s on you, really,” Kye said, and Yuta laughed, happy to see them more comfortable.

“Hey, I don’t choose my hours. If anything, you should plan your visits around my schedule.”

“I don’t know your schedule.”

“I can text it to you.”

“Smooth. Do you always get people's numbers like that?” Kye asked, finally looking up from the feather to look at him.

“First time, actually. Did it work?” They stared at each other for a second, then Kye sighed.

“Gimme your phone before I change my mind,” Kye said. Yuta had a cocky smirk, handing it to them.

The back door opened rather violently, and Kye jumped at the sudden snap, instinctively scooting closer to Yuta. His arm went across them, hand falling on their thigh in a protective stance as they both checked to see who was coming out.

An angry Jaehyun made his way through the yard, Jamie not far behind him, calling out his name. Yuta and Kye shared a look, Yuta noticing his position and moving his hand away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay-“

“Leave them alone for once, will you?” Johnny’s voice caught their attention, and they saw him holding Haechan back, keeping him from running after the two others. Haechan turned around to protest, but his eyes fell on Yuta and Kye, and his target suddenly changed.

“Since when do you two know each other?”

“They’re a regular at the cafe,” Yuta lied right away, and Kye nodded. Kye shared a look with Johnny, who knew that was a lie, but strangely refrained from commenting. His eyes fell on Kye’s lap, where the feather necklace and Yuta’s phone now laid, and he smirked.

“Come on,” he told Haechan, dragging the younger boy back inside. Poking his head out the door, he added “They’ve calmed down, by the way.” Kye smiled, thanking Johnny as he disappeared, yelling some non-sense as he did.

“Do you wanna go back inside?” Yuta asked, and Kye took a deep breath.

“I’ll stay a little longer. But you don’t have to wait for me,” Kye said, handing Yuta his phone back.

“I’m good,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. A few minutes later, a sort of chant rose from inside, and Yuta sighed.

“See, this time it’s really Haechan doing a keg stand,” he said, and Kye laughed, mindlessly playing with the feather in their lap.

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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Okay but why is this so funny

Also all of them are 100% accurate

May I please ask for an ateez fake text where their s/o is a witch and they got caught, please? 👉👈

ateez reaction to have a witch s/o

i’m sorry i didn’t really know how to do reader getting caught so here’s more like them knowing that their s/o is a witch, i hope you like it either way !!

some member’s are a bit suggestive :>

p. ateez: @italiekim @realjonko @aestheticsluut @rielleluvs @youngestdelacour @alanniys @dogsongy @mingiholic @sankatchu @stopeatread @miriamxsworld

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Hongjoong

Minnie’s Ateez Recommendations

[ 1:33 pm ] smut. older!hongjoong x college student!f!reader. @underteez

Tattoo Cherry @blipblooopp

“Un-dressing Room” @hwanchaesong

deal - k.hongjoong 18+ @hongism

Attention psh &khj @beginningofwonderland

let him eat cake // kim hongjoong @teezertales

Goodbye baby goodbye @hongjoongtrasher

Criminal. khj @spinster-sisters

IN WHICH— @robyn-core

Missing you and Brownies too @yeosdarling

Captive Audience (k.hj + c.jh) @sir3racha

[ 1:33 pm ] @underteez

Cafe @crimsonbubble

BACKSTAGE @nateezfics

DOLL @nateezfics

I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way @severetimetravelnerd

Midnight kiss - khj @i-write-some-stuff

[09:55] hongjoong @wooandthesun

it can’t be that hard @seung-hwa

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

pov: you’re a stereotype in an 80s classic.

⎘ fic type: oneshot.

⎘ pairing: gn!reader x park seonghwa.

⎘ genre: strangers/enemies to lovers (but they’re not really enemies,,, or lovers either.), slowburn, high school au, breakfast club au, bad boy au, angst, fluff.

⎘ warnings: mentions of violence, small descriptions of injuries, homophobia, victim blaming, grooming, petty drama, conflict that’s unnecessary and resolved way too quickly just like every cheesy 80s romcom, bad boy!seonghwa because he is a warning in himself, long haired!seonghwa too, oh and tattoed!seonghwa, honestly can’t tell if seonghwa is sweet in this fic or just a glorified stalker.

⎘ description: a look into the life of six students who find themselves stuck in detention… for the entire school year.

⎘ word count: 22.2k

⎘ author’s note: let’s pretend this isn’t the first fic i’ve posted in three months <3 anyway, this fic is my nemesis. this version is the third. in the first version i accidentally romanticized certain behaviours from seonghwa and i was uncomfortable with posting it. the second version was just flat out bad. this one probably isn’t any better. now onto the fact this is a months late but is meant to be part of @ficscafe fic exchange event. i don’t have any real excuse for why it’s so late other than life is a bitch and im a slow writer with long-term writer’s block. this fic was written with @starlightjoong in mind. before this event, i’d never read any of your fics and, so, when your name was given to me in the event i immediately went to check your stuff out and,,, w o w. you’re an amazing writer, and you seem like an even more amazing person. your fics are an absolute treat to read, thank you for sharing your writing on here. im so sorry you’ve had to wait so long to receive your fic, but i hope it’s at least somewhat worth the wait.

⎘ general taglist: @yunhobabygurl, @eonghwa, @iusrene, @nari-nim, @couchpotatoaniki @vanishingboots, @yoheyyosup, @hongjoong-locked-loaded, @rainteez02 @harry-the-pottypus

masterlist.

navigation.

this is all fiction. none of the events in this story truly happened, nor do they reflect an accurate portrayal of how the members would behave or feel in these situations.

Keep reading

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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i'll be with you

masterlist

pairing: park seonghwa x gn!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity, seonghwa is so soft *cries*

A long, dreadful day at work calls for a hot shower and sleep, perhaps a few hours of crying as well. What you don't account for, however, is the man who wouldn't let you go through that alone.

A/N: this was an old fic that I fixed up to fit seonghwa and I'm not going to lie it had me gripping my chair bc he's so soft and I'm so in love with him I could cry for days. By the end of it, I hope you can all remember that you are so so loved! <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Leaving a trail of clothes behind you, you made your way into the bathroom, shedding yourself of the last of your garments and stepping into the shower. You watched the glass around you slowly fog up before stepping under the showerhead, fully immersing yourself under the stream of hot water and allowing your muscles to relax.

It had been a long day at work. Your social battery was drained. Just the thought of repeating the same routine tomorrow tipped you over the edge, your tears merging with the hot water as it descended down your body. You cried for a while, sobs ripping through your chest, masked under the sound of water pattering against the floor tiles.

You didn’t hear the jingle of keys at your front door, the soft knock on your bathroom door startling you. News articles of 'the murder victim found naked in their shower' flashed into your head. They didn't sound appealing in the slightest, so you reached for your shampoo bottle – the closest thing to a weapon you could find – but lowered your arm when you heard the familiar baritone of Seonghwa’s voice on the other side of the door, your heart calming its violent banging against your ribcage.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” he spoke. And although you had evolved into a sobbing mess over the mere thought of speaking to another human being only a few minutes ago, right now, you wanted nothing but to be engulfed in his arms.

“Yeah,” you replied, wincing at the crack in your voice. You knew he knew. You didn’t have to tell him, the trail of clothes you had left outside enough for him to figure out you had a bad day.

“Are you sure?” His voice was so soft, so warm, so Seonghwa.

You remained silent, hot tears pooling in your eyes once again.

“Are you crying?”

Well, now you were. Switching the water off, you wrapped yourself in a big towel and prepared to face the man on the other side of the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor by your feet as you opened the door. He was wearing your fluffy slippers despite them being too small for him, the heels of his feet sticking out the back. You almost smiled.

“Hey,” he said, his voice so tender you almost melted into the floor. You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell he was smiling. He was always smiling when he was with you. “Bad day?” He asked after a few seconds of silence. Of course he knew.

You only nodded, walking into his open arms. He wrapped them around you, holding you against his chest. You sucked in a breath, the soft scent of baby lotion lingering behind the musk of his cologne releasing a fresh batch of dopamine into your system. You realised that this was what you needed, not sleep, but Seonghwa and his crushing embrace. He was so warm, even as the water cooled on your skin, shivers shaking your body as your teeth clattered against each other.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your temple. With you still in his arms, he walked you to your room, waddling together through the small apartment. With your face buried in his chest, you didn’t notice that he had cleaned up the stream of clothes you had left behind, the sound of the washing machine in the laundry room going unnoticed by you.

Your eyes watched as the droplets of water slid down the sides of your thighs where Seonghwa had sat you down on your bed. He allowed a comfortable silence to engulf the room while he looked through your closet for something warm to wear, smiling to himself when he saw the stack of hoodies that were once his occupying a generous space in one of your drawers. He picked out his favourite along with a pair of sweatpants.

He kneeled on the ground by your feet, gently lifting each leg off the ground to slip on your underwear. He left it gathered at your knees and moved to remove the wet towel still wrapped around your body, studying your face for any signs of discomfort, hands pausing their movement as he looked at you with those wide eyes. As if he could ever make you uncomfortable. You nodded, shoulders closing in on your body when he pulled the towel off you, cold air hitting your damp skin. Seonghwa was quick to cover you up with an undershirt, followed by his hoodie.

Warmth was quick to seep into your skin, especially after he had pulled on your sweatpants. He stood up and signalled for you to do the same, and he continued to pull up your bottoms.

Seonghwa held your waist in his hands. Warm, you thought, even through the layers of clothing, you could feel the warmth of his palms. You relaxed against him. His hands moved up to the back of your neck and you felt the plush of his lips pressing against the top of your head. You sighed in content, sensing the tension you had felt all day slip away, as if it was never there to begin with. You wrapped your arms around him, holding your hands together at the small of his back, silently appreciating him for not pushing you to speak. Perhaps that was because you didn’t exactly know what to say. You appreciated that he took care of you in times like this. You appreciated everything he did for you. You appreciated him.

But how could he not take care of you? Leaving you to fall sleep alone in a cold, empty bed, with tears staining your precious skin; how would he ever forgive himself? He would drop everything to hold the person he loved so dearly, you; to feel you nuzzle up in his arms after a long day.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence.

Your voice was hoarse, nose red, and the tiny sniffles you made every other second brought a smile to Seonghwa’s lips. You were so cute, standing there in his arms, in his hoodie, smelling like the shampoo you had been using since he had first met you. Everything about you felt so familiar to him. There was not a single part of you he didn’t love. Your face, your nose, your body, the perfume you always wore, the fact that you thought he found it boring when you told him about your day when – in fact – he would've been waiting for it all day, buzzing with excitement to find out what his favourite person had gotten up to in his absence. Even when you pressed your ice-cold hands against his neck when you kissed him – it made his heart melt. Even if he flinched away from you.

“Anytime,” you felt him smile against your forehead as he pressed his lips against the soft skin. “I’m always here for you, (Y/n).”

Warmth surged through your abdomen, and you pulled away from him, holding his hand in yours and gesturing towards your bed. Seonghwa watched you climb under the thick blanket before doing the same, holding his arms out for you. You instantly moved forward, melting into his chest as his strong arms enveloped your frame.

You were no longer thinking about the gruesome day you’d had, nor were you thinking about the gruesome day you were probably going to have tomorrow. Your mind could only focus on how Seonghwa’s arms were wrapped so firmly around you, how overwhelming his scent was as you buried your face into his chest, how you were basically swimming in his hoodie, how Seonghwa, and everything about Seonghwa, was so comforting. He occupied all your senses. He knew you better than you know yourself, and treated you better than you could ever treat yourself. He was slowly teaching you to love yourself, even with all your flaws, because those flaws were what made you so uniquely you.

“Today was terrible,” you spoke after what seemed like hours of silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he said, placing a kiss at the crown of your head.

More silence. His fingers carded through your hair all the while.

“Seonghwa?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, voice small, feeling guilty for taking up his time, praying to every God out there that having to take care of you wouldn’t make him love you any less.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love. There’s no need to apologize,” Seonghwa was quick with his response. “There’s no shame in letting me take care of you once in a while.” He rubbed your back as he spoke, a simple gesture that sent waves of warmth coursing through your body.

“But-“

“Shh, relax,” he interrupted. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re human. And you’re not alone.” His words were so soft, so gentle, voice vibrating through his chest. Your eyes watered at the mere thought of being loved so unconditionally. You didn’t feel like you deserved it, yet it felt unfair to reject it.

He felt your lips quiver against his neck, and his arms around you tightened ever so slightly. “You can cry, my darling. I’m here.” Seonghwa nuzzled his nose against yours, peppering kisses all over your eyelids, wiping your tears with gentle swipes of his thumb, his lips moving to your cheek, then your forehead.

“I-I love you,” your voice shook, making Seonghwa chuckle, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. You were so cute.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he breathed out, pressing his cheek to your temple. “I love you so much.”

That – unfortunately – only made you cry harder. And he laughed at you, the prick. But it didn’t take long for your own giggles to mingle with his, not when his fingers prodded at your sides with reckless abandon, tears still streaming down your face. You wanted to capture this moment to keep forever, even with the tears and snot. It was warm, it was happy, it was all you could ask for.

As your laughter died down, you rested your head next to his on the small pillow, breath melding with his as you stared into each other's eyes. No more words were exchanged, the quiet surrounding you void of any discomfort. Soon, your fatigue would tug at your eyelids, aided by the soft scratching of Seonghwa's nails against your scalp. Catching a glimpse of the tender smile gracing Seonghwa's lips, you allowed sleep to take over you, slowly carrying you into a dream revolving around the man laying at your side.

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

Note

Is request open?

I'm so so sorry for the late reply, but yes! I do have a bunch of things planned already tho, but I do wanna write some requests if you guys have any!

0 notes

i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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Roommate - csc

Pairing: Seungcheol x reader

Warnings: Swearing, weed use, slight mention of emotional abuse from an ex? Kinda angsty too?

Word count: 1k

A/N: I wrote this short drabble yesterday at work then typed it directly on here, so it hasn't really been edited, I apologize for any typos or mistakes. Also this is very self indulgent I'm having major Cheol feels these days please bear with me lmao

*This is purely a work of fiction. It is in no way meant to represent any idol in any way, shape or form.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Seungcheol knew exactly where to find you.

You had been living together for over two years now, so when he walked in to see the playlist on the TV, the window to the balcony slightly opened, and the light smoke coming from outside, he knew what was going on. He kept his shoes and jacket on, crossing the living room to reach you.

It was crazy how quickly you guys went from complete strangers to the best of friends. You were a friend of a friend; his roommate had left, and you had fought with yours, which led to them kicking you out. You needed a place to stay, he needed a roommate, and so your common friend introduced the two of you, and you moved in with him within the week. You got along well, having similar habits and routines. If something bothered him, he would tell you, and so did you - most of the time anyway. So you had both agreed that you'd remain roommates for as long as this was working.

In those two years, Seungcheol had also gotten used to your coping mechanisms. He could always tell when something was wrong, because you would gradually close yourself up, and started smoking a little more often, until you broke down completely, and then you'd slowly get back up. He had tried to help you countless times before, but quickly realized that you didn't need him to save you. You just needed him to be there, to listen to you vent until you were ready to move on.

And so that's what he was prepared to do when he stepped outside. He sat down next to you in silence, doing his absolute best to not stare at you, since you knew you didn't like it in those moments. Instead, he focused on the peaceful evening, the sun slowly setting, the noisy city street below, the music softly coming from the opened window. Without a word, you handed him your lit joint, and he took it. When he exhaled the smoke, he felt you take a deep breath.

"[Your ex's name] broke up with me today," you said, and this time he looked at you. Even if you weren't facing him, he could see how puffy and red your eyes were, the somewhat fresh tears on your cheeks, your wet sweater sleeves where your arms rested on your knees. You had been crying for a while, he could tell. "Over text," you added, and all the restraint Seungcheol was trying to show was gone in an instant.

He had never like the guy. He always had a weird energy to him, always giving Seungcheol the impression that he couldn't care less about you or your friends, or about anything regarding your life. You had fought with him more than once, and Seungcheol had tried to keep you away from him, but you'd always go back. Now that the ties were broken, Seungcheol would finally be able to speak his mind to the asshole.

"What kind of fucking baby breaks up over text? I'll have a little chat with him later, believe me," he said, and you let out the tiniest chuckle. Seungcheol glanced at you, confused.

"I knew you'd choose violence."

"He deserves it, after everything he put you through," Seungcheol said, but you didn't reply, instead reaching for the joint. He gave it back to you, leaning his head on the wall behind him as you took a drag, trying to calm his anger.

"Do you wanna know why I was crying?" you asked, and he frowned.

"Because he broke your heart?"

"Maybe a bit. But I also realized that I'm an absolute idiot-"

"You're not an idiot," Seungcheol immediately argued, but you stopped him before he could add anything.

"Let me finish. I'm an absolute idiot, because I kept going back to the one who hurt me when when the one who loved me was right in front of me."

Seungcheol stopped breathing for a second. He never admitted it to himself, but he did love you. And not just as a good friend. He had feelings for you, but he'd never admit it, because that way, it hurt less to see you go out with other people. He had pushed his feelings away, especially in the last few months, convinced that he wasn't the only one in your friend group to like you. He wasn't one for drama, usually putting other people's feelings before his own. And now he feared he was right, and you would tell him you liked someone else. He wasn't sure his heart would take it.

"I guess they're right when they say love makes you blind," is what he replied to your statement, taking a longer drag of the blunt that had found its way between his fingers again.

"Seungcheol," you said, and he turned to you. You never used his full name. "I mean you. You've been there all along and I've been too stupid to see how good we are together."

Seungcheol's brain stopped working. He stared at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in a shocked expression. The feelings were scrambling in his heart, words tumbling as he struggled to find his voice.

"How'd you know?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't. Everyone kept telling me you liked me, and I kept saying you didn't, probably because I didn't want to admit that I liked you too. So I guess now we both know," you explained.

Seungcheol blinked, staring at you in disbelief. Your words suddenly clicked in his brain, and he leaned towards you. His hand found the back of your head, his lips gently finding yours. They were puffy and salty from all the tears you had shed, and Seungcheol promised himself he would never let anyone hurt you again.

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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Please reblog this so that I can get a bigger sample size, but DO NOT include anything in the tags about the results, as that could influence other responses

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i-write-some-stuff · 2 years ago

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sapiosexual

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

cw/ tw. daddy kink/issues, size/shoulder/back kink, contractual relationship, unspecified age difference, unprotected sex, choking, semi bondage, multiple sex scenes, fingering, squirting, oral (m/f receiving), baby oil massage, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstim, dacryphilia, slight orgasm denial, hand kink, etc... I pet names. his: daddy. hers: gorgeous, angel, darling, my love, pretty girl, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 18.6k

🍭 aus. psychologist au, non idol au, sugar daddy au, aged up/soft dom cheol, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. dont fuck your psychologist, fuck a psychologist... and try to get a cheque while you do it 👀 (sapiosexual: the attraction to intelligence and broad af shoulders)

1: Wednesday

“I’m here to meet someone- under the name Choi?”

The hostess nods politely. “Mister Choi has been expecting you, right this way.”

Your heart lurches in your chest at her words. While it makes sense that the man you’re meeting for your date had let the host know he’d have a plus one joining him, there’s something in the woman’s diction that suggests a certain kind of familiarity.

The restaurant you’re in is an expensive one, and the previous man you’d met through the online sugar dating website had made something of a show of being a part owner of a place such as this, treating the staff in a way that demanded obedience-

You really hope, for everyone’s sake, that the person you’re meeting tonight is much kinder than the last.

The hostess takes you through the main dining section of the establishment and to a more secluded area, where she motions with a hand to the one occupied table by the windows that overlook the city.

“Your server will come by for your drink order shortly,” she tells you, giving you a quick nod and something of a knowing smile before she returns to her post, allowing you to make the final distance to the table yourself.

The man sitting with his back to you hasn’t turned around, and you take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing thickly. Your eyes scan over his broad shoulders, taking in the pretty tweed suit, the colour of charcoal, and neatly styled black hair.

You take a deep breath and begin forward.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you reach the man you’ve been in contact with just under a week- “you know how traffic can be-”

Your words feel jumbled in your mouth as Mr. Choi stands to greet you- because, although you’d been expecting a handsome man, you hadn’t been expecting him to be godlike-

The photos he’d had on the sugar dating site had been ten out of tens, but the man in front of you is a scale breaker.

He’s even broader up close, and tall too- looking down at you with an amused expression, eyes practically twinkling-

“It’s alright,” he tells you smoothly, voice sexier than you could have ever imagined, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you breathe, blinking up at him, etching his angelic features into your brain-

“You look beautiful,” Mr. Choi says, taking in the dress you’d spent three hours picking out-

His eyes don’t linger anywhere in particular, they’re quick to move back up to your face, and part of you almost wishes he’d stared at your chest just a little longer-

“Thank you,” you say, remembering you’ve yet to respond to his compliment.

“Would you like to sit?” he asks next, and you realize you’ve been staring too long, quickly tearing your gaze from him to give a curt nod.

The two of you take your seats, and you adjust in your chair, letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m also sorry if I’m a little awkward- I feel like my social skills took a hit during the pandemic.”

The man in front of you nods. “That’s understandable. The aftereffects of global isolation during covid is something that’s going to be studied by psychologists in depth in the coming years. You’re not alone in your feelings, believe me.”

You blink, thinking through his words. “Thank you-” you stutter, “for the reassurance, I mean.”

“Of course,” he nods again. “I think you’ll find I can be very reassuring, if need be.”

Your skin tingles, and you can’t believe that you’d nearly let your best friend talk you out of this date.

‘Psychologists can be dangerous!’ Seungkwan had insisted, ‘One moment you think he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s hypnotized you to cover up a murder-’

You’d told him to stop rewatching Hannibal.

But you have to admit… Mr. Choi, or Seungcheol, as he’d called himself when he’d first messaged you, he definitely looks like Hannibal.

Broad, handsome, tweed suit and all-

“I can see you’re thinking hard about something,” the man sitting across from you notes.

“Sorry, I was just-” you bite at your lip, “was just thinking that you’re probably really good at your job.”

His brows raise at this, and then he’s smiling, “Oh?”

“Yeah, you erm- you have a really calming voice and presence, and I mean- obviously you know what you’re talking about-”

“Are you in the market for a psychologist?”

“No-” you answer quickly, “I mean, I don’t think so- that’s not why I matched with you at least.”

The amused smile remains on his face, and it’s making it hard for you to look at him-

He keeps his gaze so fixed on you, and he exudes confidence on top of the calm-

Confidence that’s making your heart thump louder and louder in your chest-

“Hello, Mr. Choi,” the arrival of your waiter breaks the building tension you’re feeling. The question “How has your evening been so far?” confirms that Seungcheol knows the staff, and the pleasant way in which he responds tells you that you’re on a date with a good man.

After a brief back and forth, Mr. Choi orders himself an Old Fashioned, and you ask for a gin and tonic.

Then, you’re once more alone with the man whose gaze is enough to have your pussy clenching with interest-

“I saw you were new to the site,” Seungcheol notes, and you can’t believe he’d bothered to look for that information on your profile, let alone remember it. “How’s your experience been so far?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. “If I’m being honest, I talked to one person for a while, and when we met, he turned out to be- just- not a good person. So when you favourited me, and I thought you looked nice, I told myself it would be better to meet up in person without too much back and forth first.”

“That sounds logical,” he agrees. “I’m sorry your first experience wasn’t what you thought it would be, but there is a silver lining, you’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” you echo with a smile, and the waiter returns with your beverages.

Seungcheol had invited you for drinks and dessert. Seungkwan had insisted that meant drinks and sex, but your view of things is proved to be correct when Mr. Choi orders the ‘dessert tasting menu’ and the waiter scurries off again.

“Should we make a toast?” you ask, allowing your eyes to trail over Seungcheol’s handsome face- his strong brow and pretty lips-

“We should,” he confirms, grabbing his glass and lifting it, “what would you like to toast to?”

“Being here now.”

“To being here now.” Seungcheol allows the lip of his glass to clink gently against your own before bringing it to his mouth, and you each drink to the moment.

“So,” you say when you set your cup down, “why drinks and dessert instead of dinner?”

“Dinners can be long, and full of expectations,” he tells you. “Drinks and dessert allows you to leave earlier, if you’d like to.”

“You seem like the kind of man who has everything figured out,” you muse.

The side of his mouth quirks into a charming half smile, and he leans forward slightly in his chair, assessing you with dark eyes- “Does that excite you?”

“Yes-” the word slips out before you can stop it.

The man in front of you leans back, satisfied.

“What, exactly, are you looking for right now?” he prompts. “Your bio was… somewhat vague.”

“I guess-” you take a sip of your drink. “I guess it depends on who it is.”

“How about you start by telling me your thought process behind creating an account,” he suggests.

You’re momentarily distracted by the way his thumb rubs up and down the side of his cup- dragging through droplets of condensation gathered on the glass-

“My best friend loves Marilyn Monroe,” you find yourself saying.

This is clearly not the answer Seungcheol had expected, as he quirks that inquisitive brow of his at your words, and you’re quick to continue.

“His favourite movie of hers is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes- and I’m not kidding, he’s been bleaching his hair since the tenth grade because of it- and there’s this quote- something like- ‘it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.’ And I just sort of thought- I’m tired of putting a lot into relationships with people who give nearly nothing in return. At least with something like this- I’d be guaranteed something- you know?”

“It sounds like you’ve spent a lot of your life trying to make other people happy,” he notes smoothly. “I can understand why you’d want to be on the receiving end. Everyone deserves reciprocation.”

He pauses, swirling his glass, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind, and you wait on the edge of your seat for more.

“From what you’ve said,” his thumb runs up the glass again, “it sounds to me like you’re looking for a contractual type of situation, moreso than a verbal agreement. Something with that added stability.”

“That’s correct,” you nod.

The last man hadn’t ever brought up contracts or boundaries or any of the things that are mentioned when you’d looked up what sugar babying entails.

You’re enthralled by the professional way Mr. Choi is handling himself, and you’re enjoying his crystal clear communication.

“What-” you lick your lips, “what are you looking for?”

“As you know, I’m a psychologist,” he states. “The job comes with a lot of responsibility. I take care of a number of people with quite severe conditions, and unfortunately, regardless of my intentions, this means I’ve had less time and energy to give to people in my own life.”

He pauses to take a breath and a sip of his whisky before continuing.

“I had a fiance for a time, but it became clear to me that she wanted a child. At the time, I wasn't ready to give up my work to be present in the way a developing mind would need. I’ve been looking for a sugar baby who would understand my lifestyle. Someone to meet with once or twice a week, who would provide happy company and the emotional closeness all human beings desperately need, without some of the… expectations that traditional relationships have. Does this sound like something that could interest you?”

You find yourself quickly nodding.

“Good,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’d love to explore the exact details of a contract over drinks, and we can choose a day to do that, but for now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to switch the topic and focus on you a little more.”

“On me?” you blink-

Mr. Choi’s grin widens, and the warmth meets his eyes. “Yes, you. I think it’s safe to say we’re both physically attracted to each other, but I want to know more about who you are, inside that pretty body of yours.”

You can feel your skin heating from his compliment, and you avert your gaze, grabbing at your drink to take a sip and cool yourself. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the things that make you happiest.”

2: Thursday

“Look who finally decided to answer,” your best friend sighs loudly when you put him on speaker, and you can imagine his classic Seungkwan eye roll.

“I was sleeping,” you tell him, which only succeeds in earning you a scoff.

“And I have been waiting for details about your date since last night!”

“I sent you a text saying it was good!”

“And then you put your phone on silent you whore!” your best friend screams, making you laugh at his antics- then his voice dips. “Did you fuck him?”

“No, of course not-”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise-” you roll onto your back and look up at your ceiling, letting out a breath. “Drinks and dessert literally meant drinks and dessert.”

“Did he at least- I don’t know, feed you some of the dessert?”

“No.”

“Oh.” The line is quiet for a moment. “Well that’s anti-climactic.”

You laugh. “First you wanted me going on dates with sugar daddies, then you were weird about Seungcheol, now you’re wishing I had fucked him-”

“Well- did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Was he hot?”

You groan. “So fucking hot you don’t even know-”

“Then I do wish you’d fucked him- you’re my best friend, and you deserve to get laid,” Seungkwan says plainly. “Also- I was only weird about this Seungcheol guy because he’s a therapist-”

“Psychologist.”

“Same thing- the point is, he’s a guy with power and a brain- that can be a deadly combination.”

“I thought I told you to stop watching Hannibal,” you smile, enjoying the way Seungkwan turns everything into life or death.

He scoffs at your words, disregarding them. “So tell me about your date.”

“Like I said, it was good. I got there, we ordered drinks, he’s obviously like- super smart. We talked a little bit about why we’re on the site-”

“Why is he on the site? If he’s hot, rich, and smart?” Seungkwan asks. “Shouldn’t he be with- I don’t know… someone his own age? How old was he again?”

“Mid to late thirties- and there’s a reason for it actually. He mentioned a fiance who wanted kids- I think women ‘his age’ are all looking for a family, but he’s very… invested in his work,” you explain.

“Oh. Huh.” You listen to the cogs in Seungkwan’s brain turning. “So- I guess he just wants a sugar baby to work around his busy schedule?”

“He’s looking for a companion-” you say, “but, you know, someone who can handle the fact that his work comes first.”

“Right.” A beat, then; “So did you guys talk money?”

“Seungkwan!”

“What!?” he yells back. “Quit beating around the bush!”

“He didn’t just- whip a wad of cash out and give it to me,” you laugh. “He paid for everything of course, and we agreed to discuss a contract over drinks-”

“When?”

“Actually-” you look down at your phone, which has just buzzed, scanning the new text. “Coincidently, he’s texting me now.”

“Oooh! What’s he saying?!”

“He said, ‘I really enjoyed your company last night. Would you like to join me for drinks tomorrow at eight?’”

“Wow, this dude works fast- are you sure you didn’t suck him off or anything?”

“Seungkwan!”

“I just mean- two dates in three days- this is fast.”

“Yeah well,” you shrug while texting out a confirmation response for Seungcheol, “if you’d seen Mr. Choi in person, you’d be hoping things go fast too.”

“Is he really that sexy? This isn’t just- your old man kink?”

“I dont have an old man kink-”

“Sure you don’t.”

You groan. “Seungkwan, just trust me. This man-” you swallow thickly, “he could choke me out- and I’d say thank you daddy.”

“Right, but let’s hope he doesn’t though.”

3: Friday

Part of you isn’t surprised that Seungcheol has a study in his home, but another part of you wonders if this man is really someone you should be entertaining, with his shelves of psychology texts and autobiographies written by renowned people in his field- and the framed degrees and papers of certification-

Seungcheol is the real deal; it’s clear as day and reflected in his home.

He gives you a tour of the main floor, moving from the study to the dining room, and despite your ardent attempt at listening- it’s hard to focus.

If he’d been godlike in the charcoal tweed suit when you’d first met him- well, you don’t even know how to describe how well he fits into a plain white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose strong, bulky forearms- and then there’s the way the material stretches over his deliciously broad shoulders every time he turns his back to you-

“Now that I’ve given you a small tour, why don’t you take a seat,” he says as you enter his kitchen. “And I’ll grab us drinks. What are you feeling? Wine, water, beer, champagne-”

“Whatever you think is best,” you tell him, a little overwhelmed by the effect his home is having on you-

The effect he is having on you.

“I think I’d like to give you champagne,” he says, turning his back to you to open his fridge.

You find yourself nearly drooling at the brief moments you’re able to gawk at his shoulders again- and when he faces you, your eyes immediately zero in on his hands as they begin to fiddle with the bottle-

“Has anyone ever talked you through opening a bottle of champagne before?” he asks.

Your eyes meet briefly and you feel your skin heat when you admit, “not really- is there a specific way to do it?”

“I’m not sure if there’s one specific way,” Seungcheol chuckles a little, looking down at his task. “At ceremonies, sometimes they’ll use a sword and knock the top of the neck clean off- but for our purposes, and to avoid breaking anything with the cork if it shoots off, I prefer utilizing the cork cage,” he runs his fingers across the metal contraption on top of the bottle. “The trick is to unwind it most of the way, but keep it on so when you manuever the cork up-” his thumb runs along the seem, working at it- “it pops,” there’s a loud sound, “but it gets caught by the cork cage, and then, both are easily removed.”

He’d done the motion so professionally- a man who’s opened many a champagne bottle in his time.

Seungcheol seems to be an expert of everything - a true wealth of knowledge - and it’s one of the sexiest things you’ve ever experienced.

You watch him pour two glasses of the bubbly liquid, and then he gingerly slides one across the marble island countertop, “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He watches you with an amused expression while you raise the champagne to your lips, and when your eyes widen at the taste, he grins.

“It’s really good,” you say, toying with the stem of your glass.

Now it’s your turn to watch him take a sip- and you’re blown away by how sexy he can be while simply drinking- his adam’s apple bobbing-

You wanna lick his neck.

You wanna lick his neck so bad-

“Should we get down to business?” he asks.

You wanna get down on something- and it’s not business.

“Er- yes, we should,” you agree, shifting the way you’re seated on the bar stool at his counter-

Your panties are sticking to your core and it’s a little uncomfortable-

You have no idea how this night is going to pan out, no idea if you’ll actually end up in his bed- so you’ve worn a beautiful, silky, matching set- its one drawback is the way the material sticks to you when you’re even slightly aroused- and you’ve been aroused since the moment Seungcheol opened the door to his home and invited you in.

“Since this is a contract we’re making together, I held myself back from writing one up,” he explains. “I was thinking we could discuss it verbally, and I’ll write up a copy of what we’ve talked about after you go home tonight-”

You feel your expression fall a little and Seungcheol pauses, expert eyes assessing you.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you assure him, swallowing thickly and averting your gaze, “that sounds like a good idea.”

There are a few more moments of silence, and then Seungcheol rests both hands on the countertop, leaning forward, voice dipping when he says, “Darling, as much as I’d love for you to stay over tonight, I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until the third date.”

Your skin feels electrified, and you gawk at the gorgeous man, who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You nearly shock yourself when the words “why not?” tumble past your lips, and his affectionate smile widens at your question.

“We’ve hardly discussed expectations,” he answers smoothly. “It would be… unwise for me to skip those important steps, to give you time to consider your options.”

“My options?”

“I am older than you,” he points out, “and there’s still a chance you might decide you want someone who can give you more of his time. I want you to be sure about all of this.”

“I am sure,” you insist.

“You think you are,” he muses, bringing his champagne to his lips, “but until you see a finalized document, you shouldn’t be agreeing to anything.”

“You won’t hurt me-” you tell him, “I trust you.”

“Although we only just met,” he points out. “If you trust me at all, trust in this process, okay, Sweetheart?”

You swallow any words of insistence that threaten to bubble up out of you, nodding and taking a sip of your own drink.

“So,” he lets out a sigh, “we discussed a few of my expectations when we first met, do you remember what they were?”

“You were looking for a companion of sorts, who could manage you being at work frequently,” you respond, feeling pleased when he nods and smiles at you. “Someone to meet up with once or twice a week.”

“Very good, Angel,” he praises you. “While it’s implied, I’d like to solidify what you might call a key condition.”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat, waiting for him to continue, your interest piqued.

“Any contract you’d sign would come with a loyalty clause.” He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your own. “Do you understand what that entails?”

“I think so,” you nod. “It would be an agreement that while I’m seeing you, I wouldn’t be entertaining anyone else. We’d be exclusive.”

“That’s my smart girl,” he smiles. “Even though I don’t have much time for you, I’d provide for you to live comfortably when I’m not around, in the hopes that, when we are together, we’re both committed to making the best of it.”

You love the way that sounds.

“Which brings me to my next point,” he continues, “monthly allowances. I’ll cover your food, rent, utilities- anything you need, and provide extra spending money for clothing, jewelry, etcetera.”

“Wow, that’s-” you feel your eyes widening, “that’s very generous of you.”

“It’s really not,” he insists. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

You have to stop yourself from happily chirping an ‘if you say so daddy’ at the man that is so close to becoming everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself-

“On top of our one-on-one interactions,” Seungcheol says, “I’d also like for you to accompany me to professional events, but I’d need you to be discreet. On top of a loyalty clause, I might have you sign a nondisclosure act- how does that sound to you?”

You consider it for a moment. “I’m not the type to go tell people about my personal life- and other than my best friend, no one even knows I was on the sugar site-”

“Your friend who loves Marilyn Monroe and bleaches his hair?” Seungcheol asks with an amused expression.

“You remembered-” you laugh, heart warming to know how many details he’s held onto in regard to your first meeting.

“The NDA can exclude your close friend, we all need a confidant.”

“Thank you,” you swallow, “I think- if it allows me to talk to Seungkwan, signing a NDA would be okay.”

“Perfect,” Seungcheol nods, drinking the last of his champagne. “We’ve covered a few of the most important parts of an agreement, so I think maybe now is a good time to grab another important document that I need you to look over.”

“Oh?”

“Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol assures you, flashing you a quick wink before exiting the kitchen.

It’s almost torturous to be alone anywhere in Seungcheol’s home without him, and part of you is inclined to follow him around like a lost, needy puppy-

You finish your drink while you wait, taking breaths to calm yourself, afterall, he’d said he wouldn’t be fucking you tonight- therefore, there’s not much for you to worry about.

Seungcheol returns shortly, holding a dark leather file folder, which he offers to you.

“What’s this?” you ask, not wanting to open it without being prompted to- but your curiosity is as high as ever.

“Separate from our sugar agreement, this is a bdsm contract. It has a list of kinks and other things, as well as a section for you to fill out, detailing what you’re comfortable - and more importantly - what you’re uncomfortable with. I’d like you to take it home, look it over, and if you have any questions, let me know.”

“Right-” you stand up, holding the file folder to your chest-

Any words that you were thinking of saying disappear when you look up at Seungcheol, once more marveling at your size difference and how beautiful he is-

“You’re easily distractable,” he grins, pinching at your chin gently, “aren’t you, Angel?”

“Yes sir,” you mumble-

Easily dazed too.

“My driver will take you home now,” the (much too sexy) psychologist tells you. “His name is Seokmin, you’ll probably have to remind him to give you his number. He’ll be available to you from now on if you need to go anywhere.”

“You have a driver?” you blink- shocked at how he’s able to afford all of this-

You realize he must come from old money- and you’re appalled you hadn’t noticed it before.

He doesn’t carry himself in the way a man who’d made a name for himself would- he has an air of confidence- a confidence that runs deep and is backed up by family money.

“Yes, darling,” Seungcheol grins, “we have a driver.”

4: Saturday

You’ve always loved having movie night with your best friend, but tonight, he’s not interested in movies. Seungkwan is easily distractable - a little like you, you suppose - and when you’d arrived over an hour ago, he’d immediately insisted on knowing every detail about your experience with the man he now refers to as ‘Psych daddy.’

On top of being distractable, Seunkwan is easy to please, and you manage to avoid mentioning the BDSM contract for a good long while, instead focusing on Seungcheol’s hot driver, who Seungkwan finds on instagram within five minutes.

“No way- first Psych Daddy is a ten out of ten, and now his driver is hot too?” Seungkwan bellows while mad scrolling through Seokmin’s profile. “Are you sure we’re not in some weird porn dream? You’re not gonna get tag teamed are you?”

“Seungkwan!” you scream, gently smacking him across the shoulder in shock.

“We were both thinking it!” he insists, shoving you back.

“I’ll have you know that we were not both thinking it,” you state with just as much certainty.

“But you mentioned how nice the guy was when he dropped you off last night and we called for like five minutes before you hung up on me to go to bed!”

“Yeah, in the context that Seungcheol is really nice to everyone that works for him, despite being-”

“One of the youngest, sexiest psych daddies in the city, yeah, yeah-” Seungkwan waves his hand, “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Have you been researching my boyfriend again?” you ask, thoroughly amused.

“Boyfriend?” Seunkwan eyes you up and down, sneering. “Is that what we call dom daddies now?”

“If he makes you sign a loyalty clause and a NDA, I think I can call him whatever I want, can’t I?” you point out. “And you avoided my question- you’ve definitely been googling Cheol again.”

“Been googling myself to pictures of pysch daddy-” Seungkwan says suggestively before asking, “He made you sign an NDA?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “and don’t worry, we’ve discussed it and it will exclude you- I can tell you anything I want to.”

“Shit, did you tell him my name? Do you think he’ll accept me as a patient if he knows I’m your best friend?”

“Since when do you need a psychologist?” you laugh.

“Uh,” Seungkwan’s brows raise, “Bestie, have you seen my life? I definitely need someone to confide in who knows what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Ouch,” you touch your heart, pretending to be wounded. “Since when did you not like crack gremlin advice?”

“Since you put down your crack gremlin hat and became a sugar baby to a hot psychologist,” Seungkwan sighs, taking one last look at Seokmin’s grinning face before he puts his phone down and focuses entirely on you. “But go back a few steps and talk to me about this loyalty clause- psych daddy sends you home with a ton of papers to sign, huh?”

“More than you could imagine.”

Your best friend looks you up and down with suspicion, brow raising in a silent prompt for more info.

When you remain quiet, Seungkwan sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me,” but after a beat, he asks, “Was it a sex list or something?”

You’re always stunned by how intuitive your best friend can be.

Upon reading your reaction, Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he grabs at your arm, nearly jumping with excitement. “No way!” he yells in your ear. “He did send you home with a sex list! Show me, show me, show me!”

You look to your bag and before you can even reach for it, Seungkwan is darting past you and retrieving the papers. “Holy shit-” he breathes, scanning the document with eyes full of something like perverted excitement. “A checklist for kinks?”

“Yup.”

“Choking, yes. Spanking, fuck yeah- bondage-” he grins at you, “looks like someone’s a little slut for psych daddy.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, reaching for the papers, but he launches himself off the couch to evade you. “If you’re gonna be like this, I don’t want to show you.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice,” Seungkwan says, but he’s still reading the list, and his voice is lacking any real sincerity. “Okay so most of these are straightforward-”

“You watch way too much porn,” you sigh.

He practically growls at you. “As I was saying- most of these are straightforward, and you’ve filled out the ones I would have expected you to- but some of these are things even I have never heard of- like, what the fuck is…” he carefully sounds out the next word, “Quirofilia?”

“Honestly- the ones I didn’t know about, I just sort of skipped over, hoping maybe you would know- but…” you can’t stop the sly grin that works its way onto your lips, “I guess Cheol did say I could call him if I had any questions…”

“At this point, it’s almost like this list is purposefully vague on some kinks-” Seungkwan sighs, joining you on the couch again. “I bet Psych daddy has been waiting for you to call him for extra clarification.”

“We could google it,” you point out.

“Definitely not,” Seungkwan says quickly. “Call daddy, and put him on speaker.”

“Oh, so he’s just daddy now?” you tease, pulling out your phone.

“Call him.”

“Hmm… maybe I’ll text,” you decide. “He could be busy.”

“That’s no fun,” Seunkwan whines, pouting out his lower lip.

“Too bad,” you tell him, typing in a quick message. “I said, ‘hey, whenever you have time, I have a few questions about some of the terms on the kink list.’”

“Add a smiley face,” your friend urges, “so he knows it’s like- good questions.”

You add a happy emoji, and hit send. Then you put your phone down, reaching for the papers from Seungkwan.

“He might not answer anytime soon-” you say- just as your phone buzzes the familiar ringtone that you’ve only given to one person.

Both you and Seungkwan stare at your ringing phone, and then your best friend grins at you.

“This guy is so whipped for you it’s crazy- are you sure you haven’t sucked his dick?”

“Oh my god stop!” you groan, “and be quiet or I can’t answer-”

“I’ll be quiet,” he insists, pretending to lock his mouth shut and throw away the key.

With one final warning glare, you turn your focus to your phone, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” comes Seungcheol’s unmistakable smooth drawl- god, he makes your mouth fucking water- “So you got around to looking at the kink list.”

He’s so god damned confident- and when you look up at Seungkwan, you see he’s just as shook by your new lover as you are.

“Uh, yes,” you clear your throat. “There are just a few terms I’m unfamiliar with, and- I know I could look them up, but you said to call you if I had questions-”

“Of course Angel, I’d love to help talk you through it.”

Your panties are wet.

They’re wet, and your best friend is nearly falling off the couch from how seductive your new sugar daddy is.

“What kinks are you unfamiliar with?” Seungcheol prompts, and you can practically hear him smiling at the way he’s taking your breath away on a freaking phone call-

“There’s this one,” your eyes scan over the word Quirofilia, and you do your best not to mangle it the way Seungkwan had when you relay it to Cheol.

“Quirofilia,” he repeats, teaching you the proper pronunciation with the calm, pleasant tone you’re starting to fall in love with. “It’s another term for a hand kink.”

Now it’s your turn to echo, and you say “A hand kink,” while blinking at your friend.

“Yes, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles on the other end. “If you check off the box for receiving, you’d indicate that you’d be more than comfortable with me touching you frequently. For lack of a better term, it goes hand in hand with a number of other kinks- spanking and choking for example, or finger sucking.”

“And for giving?” you question, having already checked off a yes for what he’s just described.

“For giving…” he clears his throat, “well, you’d let me pay for you to get manicures- maybe let me choose the colours and styles-” there’s another pause, then “I have to admit, I did notice that you have nice hands the first night we met.”

“Really?” your heart lurches in your chest and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to bite while listening in on a conversation that’s getting sexier and sexier- “What did you like about them?”

“They’re smaller than mine, for one. I’m sure we can both imagine how pretty they’d look wrapped around something… substantially bigger.”

Your best friend spasms, practically screaming into the pillow, and you can’t help the way your own jaw drops at the statement-

Are you about to have phone sex with Cheol in front of your best friend?

Do you need to get a room?

“We can discuss it in detail when I see you next,” Seungcheol says, cutting off your horny thoughts. “Are there any other kinks you’ve had trouble with?”

“I mean-” part of you wants to go through the whole list and pretend not to know things just to keep him on the phone- “if we’re going to discuss these all in detail when I see you next- maybe I should just wait till then?”

You can’t believe you’re cock blocking yourself just because Seungkwan is here.

“We can do that,” Seungcheol says smoothly.

In the background, you hear someone say his name, and you find yourself asking, “did I catch you at a bad time?” suddenly worried you’ve interrupted something important.

“Of course not, angel, I wouldn’t have called you if I couldn’t step away for a few minutes.” There’s a pause then, “I’m at a conference this weekend, flew out this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart deflates a little.

“I was tempted to invite you,” Seungcheol says, calming the uneasiness you’re feeling. “But seeing as you’ve not signed anything, and I already had plans with colleagues, I figured this wouldn’t be the best first trip to take you on.”

This excites you again. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind for a first trip?”

“Somewhere warm,” he answers smoothly, a small chuckle following a moment later. “Anyways, I won’t be that available tomorrow, you caught me at a good moment tonight.”

“Well… will you be back on Monday?” you question.

Another small laugh, then, “Are you that eager to see me, gorgeous?”

“Maybe.” You eye Seungkwan who’s still screaming into the pillow. “But I mean- I remember what you said about needing a sugar baby that fits your schedule, so, I don’t want to pressure you to see me the day you get back from a work conference-”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, angel,” his smooth voice calms your anxieties. “I do have quite a busy week, a few things aren’t pinned down yet, can I let you know when I have more details?”

“Yes, of course-” you bite at your lip. “I should let you get back to your colleagues- thanks for calling me and talking me through uh- Quirofilia.”

You hear him take a deep breath, and then, Seungcheol lets out something like a groan- “I’m tempted to ask what you checked off for it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and after a moment of silence you ask, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“No,” he responds, “It will give me something to think about tonight if you don’t tell me.”

“Okay,” you grin at the way he’s toying with himself- ego fuelled by the idea of him thinking about you- “I’m excited to talk more about this with you when I see you next.”

“Me too, angel.”

“Have a great time at your conference daddy.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening at the way the term of endearment just slipped out of you-

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh that betrays how much the word has affected him, and he sounds less composed than normal when he says, “Thank you, precious, enjoy your evening.”

You hang up, and as soon as you have, Seungkwan goes ballistic, practically pouncing at you while screaming, “That was too sexy! You guys are too sexy, what the hell!?”

Laughing at his antics is easy- pretending your panties aren’t ruined is another story.

5: Sunday

The ringtone that makes your whole body tingle with anticipation is becoming more and more familiar, and you practically launch yourself across your bed to answer your phone.

“Hi.”

A small chuckle, and a breath, then, “Hey you.”

“How's your conference going?” you ask, having not expected to hear from Cheol today.

“Good. It’s over, we finished the last meet up just before dinner. What are you up to?”

You grin to yourself, playing with the book in your lap. “I’m reading your most recent publication.”

“My most recent publication?” you can hear him smiling now too, and you enjoy the way he teases your choice of phrase. “Since when were you going out and buying my books, darling?”

“Since I saw how many you’ve done- when you showed me your library. I went out this morning and got two.”

“You could have asked, and I would have given you them for free… with a detailed note from the author.”

“I was eager to begin reading,” you admit. “And you’re so busy- I’m still not sure when I’m seeing you next.”

“That’s actually why I called. I took a look at my schedule, and I’ve got options for you.”

“Ooh! I love options.”

Another smile you can hear through the phone, and your heart beats a little faster.

“I can see you alone on Friday, it’s the earliest day I have available- but if you’d like, you can accompany me to a get-together with my work colleagues on Wednesday. I know you haven’t signed any papers and we haven’t discussed anything in detail yet but… I have a good feeling about you, angel, and I’d enjoy having you there.”

“Then of course I’ll go with you to the get-together,” you announce, grinning like a school girl at the inklings of praise he bestows on you.

“That’s wonderful news, gorgeous.” - you love it when he calls you pretty pet names - “I’m sorry that this call can’t be longer- but I’ll see you Wednesday- and I’m sure I’ll find a reason to call you before then.”

“Yes, please.”

He laughs, and the sound has your core buzzing with interest- how the hell is Seungcheol so sexy without even trying?

“Have a good night, angel, and don’t read too much of my book- they’re all depressing.”

“They’re informative,” you insist. “Have a wonderful night Cheol, and thanks for calling.”

6: Monday

“Hi.”

You’ve gotta stop answering your phone with a full grin- but every time Seungcheol calls you, you can’t help but get warm and fuzzy all over.

“Hi, angel.”

And wet. Wet all over.

Wet where it counts.

“I was just thinking about you,” you confess, toying with the page of his book that you’ve been reading.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” he responds, “and I have been, all day. It’s quite distracting actually.”

“Really?” Your heart leaps again.

“I was thinking about getting you something to wear to the party on Wednesday- was going to get Seokmin to drop it off at your place, but then… I realized how much I’d rather see you and give you the dress in person, to see your reaction.”

This man gives you full on heart palpitations- and it takes everything in you to clear your throat and ask, “so does this mean I’ll see you before Wednesday, or?”

“I mean… I don’t want to assume you’re free every night- but if you’re not otherwise busy tomorrow-”

“I always have time for you daddy,” you smile, “and I’ll sign a contract to prove it.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you love that you’re having an effect on him. “That’s good to hear sweetheart. I’ll move a few things around. How does seven sound?”

“Seven sounds perfect.”

“And it will be a longer stay this time. I know I kept our last interaction at my home brief- but if you bring all the documents I gave you, we can…” he clears his throat, “discuss them in full, tomorrow, if you’d like”

“I’d love that,” you admit.

“Seokmin will be at your place to pick you up at seven then, angel. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait either.”

7: Tuesday

Seungcheol is a man who strives for perfection. From his home and work, all the way down to the pretty present he’s gotten for you, the box wrapped in a golden bow-

And when you open your gift to reveal an expensive red fabric just itching to be touched- you think there’s a possibility that you might very much be in love with the psychologist already.

“It’s beautiful-” you breathe, pulling the silky garment from its box to assess the length and style.

“You were wearing red when we first met,” Seungcheol tells you, “I thought to myself that I’d never seen such a gorgeous girl- when I invited you to the gettogether tomorrow, I knew there was only one colour I truly wanted to see you in.”

Your heart is having palpitations, you swear-

“Do you-” you swallow thickly, looking up at him, “do you want me to try it on for you now?”

It’s his turn to take a shaky breath, and after a stagnant pause, he shakes his head, “No. I think I’d like to be surprised tomorrow- besides, after we get done looking over the papers and contracts, I feel as if we’d both prefer you to be taking off clothes rather than putting them on.”

He’s right about that.

You only wish you’d known about his affinity for the color red before you’d chosen a black lingerie set, knowing that tonight would be the night he’d finally strip you bare-

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. You honestly can’t- and all these paper signings- they’re just a formality for you.

As far as you’re concerned, Cheol is the one- or at least, he could be the one.

Or maybe he’s just the ‘for now,’ but regardless, for now, you want to be ravenously fucking him-

“My easily distractable darling,” he gently pinches at your chin, pulling you from your dirty thoughts. “Let’s see the papers.”

After putting the dress back in its box, you grab the purse you’d arrived with. It’s large enough to hold the folder with the documents, which you pull out next, setting it down on Seungcheol’s kitchen counter.

“I see you’ve printed out the other documents I sent you since we last met,” he says, and you can hear the pride in his voice that you’d gone a step above and beyond what he’d asked of you.

After your last date, wherein you’d gotten the kink list, he’d sent you an email with a link to a contractual pdf. Once you’d gone over the contract in detail on your computer, you’d printed it out, eager to sign your name- but you’d been patient, knowing he’d probably want to witness your signature being jotted down on the dotted line.

“I’m ready to sign them,” you tell him, also pulling a pen out of your purse-

“Eager angel,” he smiles, taking the seat on the barstool next to yours. “Are you sure you don’t want to read it all over one more time?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, angling your body towards his and fiddling with your pen.

“Alright,” Seungcheol nods, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, his forearms flexing. “How about you let me sign first, then you can do your own signature.”

You hold out your pen, which he accepts, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he looks down at the contract. His eyes scan over the document, and a moment later, the ballpoint pen is gliding languidly across the dotted line, his signature solidified in a binding agreement.

“There we go,” he says smoothly, holding the pen out for you to take.

Within seconds, two signatures are on the contract, and your heart is racing just a little faster in anticipation of what’s to come next.

“And now to look over your kink list,” Seungcheol breathes, moving the signed papers to the side.

Your heart lurches when he picks up the sheet you’ve filled in, and you stay silent while his eyes move over each line of information.

“As much as these all interest me,” he says, “I’m pleased to see you’ve checked off giving and receiving for quirofilia.” His large hand moves to rest on top of your thigh, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting from the paper to your own. “Will you allow me to book a manicure for you tomorrow? In preparation for the get-together?”

“Yes, please,” you rest your hand on top of his own.

“We’ll have to get your nails matching your new dress,” he tells you smoothly, setting the paper down in favour of pushing a strand of hair away from your face, his index finger gently gliding past your cheekbone. “And there will be another present for you tomorrow.”

“Another?” you’re nearly dizzy from how well he treats you-

“Another,” he confirms, taking off his glasses to set down before standing from the bar stool.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” you ask, allowing him to prompt you to your own feet, both of his hands gently capturing your own.

Seungcheol gives his head a small shake, a smile on his lips when he responds with a “no.”

Something inside of you deflates slightly at the fact that he’s withholding information from you, and you can’t help the way you pout your lower lip out - just a little - in an effort to perhaps make him change his mind-

“Come on, angel,” Seungcheol laughs, pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His dark chocolate colored eyes are swimming with adoration, and his small half smile is breathtaking- “you can be patient for one more day, can’t you?”

“Depends what for,” you admit, reaching your free hand out to hook your fingers in the front of his belt, pulling yourself closer to the man who’s as solid as any brick wall you’ve ever seen-

“Patience for the next present,” he clarifies, gaze dipping down to your lips as you move even closer to him- “not for anything else.”

“Promise?” you ask, pushing onto your tip toes- mouths even closer-

“Promise,” Seungcheol says, finally closing the distance between you.

His lips are soft- he’s a gentleman, and his hand moves from your chin to be cupping the nape of your neck, the other smoothing down to the small of your back.

It’s chaste kissing- too chaste for you, and you wrap your arms around the back of his own neck, pressing your chest up against his.

You don’t want any more distance between you, and you especially don’t want to wait any longer for this man to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Cheol-” you groan, allowing him to tilt your head and slide his tongue along your lower lip.

“Yes, angel?” His voice is so deep and sexy, the vibrations of it going straight through from his chest to your own and then down to your tingling core-

“Daddy, please-”

“I would ask you to use your words, but now that you’ve filled out your kink list-” he swallows thickly, gently pressing his forehead to yours, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’d enjoy.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’d said yes to most of the kinks on the list- so you’re not sure how - exactly - he’s going to narrow it down and decide on what to do to you today- but there’s another part of you that trusts him fully.

Tonight is going to be a night to remember, regardless of what kinks he fulfills for you.

“Wait-” your hands move from his strong shoulders to the front of his dress shirt, toying with the buttons there, “I never saw your kink list.”

“Would you like to?”

You nod.

“Another time then,” Seungcheol says smoothly, “tonight, I want to take care of you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” you admit, tugging on his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

With a smile, Seungcheol concedes, lips finding yours again.

Instead of being as chaste as he had at the start, with each brush of your mouths against each other, he’s becoming more bold, gently testing your limits-

Little does he know that when it comes to him, you have no hard limits.

He could talk you into just about anything- but part of you knows he’d never really try to talk you into much, which is one of the reasons why you’re so open for him.

As he kisses you harder, and you tug him even closer, you realize you’re practically trying to climb him- and in one motion, Seungcheol bends down and lifts you into his arms bridal style, being mindful of the black dress still adorning your body.

“I’m going to take you to my bedroom now,” he tells you, and you take the opportunity to begin speckling his neck and underjaw in kisses, your hands tugging and toying with the fabric covering his broad shoulders.

It’s so easy to become lost in him- his gentle, calming aura truly overtakes you, and now that you’re contractually under his protection - both financially and romantically - nothing else does matter-

Nothing except him.

You want to make Seungcheol happy- and you note his reactions, note the way he releases a shuddery breath when you find a sensitive spot just under his ear- your tongue dipping out to taste his skin while you press kisses there-

“Okay, angel,” he sighs, “time to set you down.”

He places you gently onto his bed before straightening to look at you.

Seungcheol has always been tall and broad- but towering over you at the foot of his bed while you lay there with soaked panties takes him to new heights - literally - and you find yourself practically drooling- sitting up in an effort to get close to him again-

“Nuh uh uh,” he tuts, pressing one knee onto the mattress between your legs. “Lift your arms so I can take this dress off of you, and then lay back down for me, yeah?”

You follow through with his request gladly, allowing him to strip you of your dress before you flatten against his bed again, looking up at him with a lustful wonder that you’ve never truly experienced.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Seungcheol says smoothly, discarding your dress before looking down at you with appreciative eyes- eyes that finally take in some of your best features, gliding across your breasts and the lingerie set you’re wearing- “You dressed up for me,” he notes.

“Of course, daddy,” you sigh, reaching for him when he presses his other knee onto the bed, “wanted to look good for you.”

“You always look good,” he tells you, flattening his form over your own, one hand pressed to the mattress next to your head while the other gently grasps your jaw. “My pretty little angel,” he says, breath fanning across your skin before his lips find your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and looking for friction between your thighs-

A moan slips out of you when you feel his cock, pressing against the front of his pants deliciously-

Seungcheol chuckles into your kiss before pulling away from you, his lips moving to your neck-

“So sensitive, baby,” he says, rutting forward ever so slightly- cock dragging past your panty-clad core and making you groan again. “When was the last time you were properly touched?”

“It’s been a while,” you admit, swallowing thickly and lacing your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair while he kisses down to the swell of your breasts, still captured in your bra.

“Well, we’re going to change that.”

“We better,” you retort, back already arching off the bed to give him access to the clasp of your bra- which he undoes with deft fingers. “Take it off- please-”

The garment slips off of you easily, and Seungcheol tosses it to join your dress on the floor before his large, warm hand is cupping your breast, lips attaching to one nipple while his fingers toy with the other.

Small gasps of ecstasy escape you, filling the room with your whimpery sounds of need.

Your new lover focuses on your breasts in a way that begins to make you frustrated, your pussy clenching with untouched desire- and the feeling of Seungcheol’s muscled shoulders is almost too much for your hands, which can’t help but explore his body-

“Please-” you moan, shifting your hips up, eager for him to grind down on you again-

The hand on your breast is removed, and it slips between your bodies, two fingers pressing to your pussy through your panties.

You release a whimper, body shuddering at the small stimulus on your clit-

“Your panties are soaked, angel,” he says, releasing your breast in favor of looking down at you again. “Do you really need me that much?”

“I do,” you tell him sincerely, once more tugging at the front of his shirt. “I need you so bad-”

Your fingers begin to undo his buttons, but your motions are shaky, especially as he rubs your core harder, teasing you through your panties-

“Please- just take them off,” you groan. “Take it all off-”

Seungcheol grins, “If you insist,” and then he’s pulling away from you, leaving you cold and desperate, your hands trying to follow him-

But then you stop, zoning in on the way his own nimble fingers undo the buttons of his shirt-

And then he’s shrugging the fabric off, revealing a chiseled torso and an abdomen that you could wash clothes on-

“You’re so-” you groan, unable to even believe you’d found a man like this on a sugar dating site.

“I’m so…” he looks at you with a cocked brow, kneeling between your legs, his hands finding your thighs and smoothing down against your skin.

“You’re everything,” you tell him, unable to think through much else.

The complement works, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Thank you, angel,” he says. “Daddy’s going to eat you now.”

You’re so overwhelmed- in the best of ways- that you hardly even hear Seungkwan’s voice in the back of your mind screaming ‘hannibal the cannibal, bitch!’

Your best friend had been so wrong about Seungcheol- who gets down onto his knees at the foot of the bed, dragging you closer before hooking his fingers in your panties-

You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the fabric from your form, leaving you completely naked-

Seungcheol releases a breath that fans over your pussy, his lips pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, teeth grazing past your skin before he finally brings his mouth where you need him most.

You can’t help but reach down and tangle your fingers through his hair, determined to keep him between your thighs-

And he doesn’t disappoint, tongue licking you up and down, pressing through your pussy lips and dipping into your core, nose brushing by your clit-

“Cheol-” you whimper, toes curling at the sensation.

You’ve been eaten out before, but you’ve never been as into a man as you are with Seungcheol, and every brush of him against you has you practically whining and tingling with ecstasy.

You’d never thought sex could be this good- and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

His tongue is nothing compared to what his cock is going to feel like- but his mouth alone is bringing you shockingly close to your high, devastatingly fast.

Seungcheol releases a groan against your pussy, pulling away just enough to ask “close already, angel?”

“Mmm- yes,” you whimper, tightening your grip in his hair on an effort to bring him back to your pussy.

“You can cum, just- let me know,” he tells you, tongue returning to your aching hole, lapping at you for all you’re worth-

You find your eyes closing, your head resting back against his bed while his ministrations work you closer and closer to the edge-

One of your feet drags along his strong back, your legs threatening to close around his head as your sounds of pleasure begin to tumble out of you uncensored, filling the room-

Seungcheol presses his face against you even harder, lips wrapping around your clit-

“Cheol- I’m gonna-” you whine, breaths becoming irregular as you get closer and closer to cloud nine- “oh my god-” you reach the peak of pleasure, and a gasped “daddy” escapes you as you’re consumed with your orgasm, quivering legs trying to close around Seungcheol-

But two hands land on your inner thighs, forcing you open for the man who eats you through your high like he’s been starved-

Perhaps you both have.

You haven’t felt something this good in- maybe ever, and all you’re able to do is tug on his hair, moan loudly, and rut your hips against his face while you feel him tingling through every fiber of your being.

Seungcheol works you through your entire orgasm and then some, until your legs feel like jelly from being tensed, and you can hardly breathe correctly. Then, he pulls away from you slowly, pressing kisses along your inner thigh-

You open your eyes to look down at him, and you’re met with a visual that has you getting wet all over again.

The gorgeous man between your legs, wipes his thumb across his lower lip, collecting what’s there and slipping it into his mouth, releasing a groan that has you practically twitching-

His pupils are blown with interest, and he’s breathing just as heavily as you are.

He stands up, towering over you once more.

Seungcheol swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing from the way you checked off cum play and breeding kink that you’re on some sort of contraceptive?”

You release a small laugh- no man has ever used the word contraceptive in the bedroom with you before. Cheol is so sexy with his fancy words-

“Hey,” he gently taps your inner thigh again, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I-” you take a breath, “sorry, I’m just-” you can’t help but reach for him, making something like grabby hands in the air.

“I’ll give you a second to come down a bit more,” he concedes, returning between your legs, holding himself just over your body while you attempt to latch onto him, ankles crossing behind his back to lock him in- “You really haven’t been properly touched in a while,” he notes, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“No,” you agree, “I haven’t.”

You cup his face, eager for his lips to be on yours, but he holds just out of your reach, grinning down at you. “Almost ready to answer my question?”

You nod, taking a breath before telling him, “I’m on the pill.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol says, bypassing your lips in favour of pressing a kiss to your neck, just above your fluttering pulse point. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you admit, letting out a deep sigh- “needy.”

Seungcheol releases a small groan, and he pushes his hips forward, teasing your bare core with the front of his dress pants- “Yeah?”

“Please-” you tug gently at his hair, “stop teasing me.”

“Just trying to let you take a breath,” he retorts.

“I don’t want to breathe,” you say stubbornly, “I want you.”

He lets out a chuckle, and you find yourself wanting to prove how much you want him.

There’s no way in hell that you’ll be able to dominate Seungcheol, he’s as sturdy as a bear laying on top of you, but when you push at his shoulders, he relents, allowing you to roll him onto his back so you’re now the one on top.

He blinks up at you, lips parting-

“Didn’t expect this, did you, daddy?” you ask, placing your palms flat on his chest while adjusting the way you’re seated, capturing his cock between your bodies-

Seungcheol sits up abruptly- and you almost think he’s going to say something, but instead, he presses his lips to yours, capturing the nape of your neck with his hand so you can’t move away.

His kiss is hungry, tongue gliding past your own and earning a mewl of pleasure- your hips rock slightly, and you’re immediately aggrieved to be reminded that he still has pants on.

“Want you naked,” you tell him between kisses, “want to taste you-”

Now it’s his turn to let out a groan of eager delight, and he lets go of his hold on your neck, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes while he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly to have your head arching back- “You sure about that?”

“God, yes-” you moan, licking your lips-

“Then go ahead, angel,” Seungcheol says, releasing you. “Do whatever your heart desires, and if you get tired, let daddy know so he can take over again.”

You’ve never been wetter in your life. Nor have you ever shimmied down a man’s body and wrestled with his pants so quick, but with Seungcheol, that’s precisely what you do, and within no time at all, you have your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

He’s girthy- and you can just imagine how good the stretch of him is going to feel-

You’re practically drooling on him, bobbing your head up and down while he pushes your hair out of your face, releasing a groan and a “that’s it, angel” that eggs you on even more.

You’re aware that you don’t want to make him cum like this- this is just you returning the favour before riding him-

God, you want to ride him so bad- like you’ve never wanted to ride any man in your whole entire life.

“Fuck-”

It’s the first swearword you’ve ever heard come out of Seungcheol’s mouth, and it goes straight to your pussy, which clenches around nothing, your mouth slipping down far enough on his cock that you choke-

“Careful, darling,” the hand in your hair tugs you off his cock, and you take a gasp of air, sneaking a glance up at the man who has you going feral-

“I wanna ride you.”

“Like I said, do whatever your heart desires,” comes his almost casual response-

This man is going to be the death of you.

Death by psychologist cock.

Before you can even think a coherent sentence, you’re straddling Seungcheol’s hips, adjusting his cock to fit snuggly against your core, and sinking down on him, filling yourself inch by delicious inch until you’re sat atop him like a queen on her throne.

His hands find your waist, and you both release sounds of pleasure, your eyes closing to enjoy the feeling of being perfectly full for just a moment before you begin to move-

“Feels good, huh?” he prompts, squeezing your hips gently.

“Feels fucking fantastic,” you tell him- swear words be damned.

Your hands find his strong chest, and you lean over him, connecting your lips while you take a test thrust, bouncing just slightly on his cock-

The feeling is enough to have you both groaning into each other’s mouths, Seungcheol cupping the side of your face while he gently bites at your lower lip-

You’re not used to being on top- and it feels obvious in the shallow way you’re riding him, too distracted in kissing to give either motion your full attention-

But that doesn’t matter, because Seungcheol is rutting up to meet you, matching your slow pace and helping you find a steady rhythm with the hand still on your hip, guiding you as you begin to bounce.

It feels like heaven to be fucking Choi Seungcheol- feels like nothing you could have ever imagined.

You find yourself getting lost in him, working on autopilot with one destination in mind: orgasmic pleasure, and with each thrust of his hips to meet you, he helps you get closer.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you groan, tearing your lips from his to take a breath, burying your face against his neck while your thighs burn from effort- “Daddy, please- please, fuck me-”

That’s all you need to say to get him to take over, flipping you onto your back so he can regain the top position. He captures your hands, raising them over your head where he can lock your wrists together in his strong grip, then his free digits slip between your bodies, seeking out your clit-

“Oh my god,” you moan, eyes closing as you’re overwhelmed in the sensation of him-

“Close already, sweetheart?” he questions, letting out a smug, sexy, little chuckle. “Feels that good?”

“Yes- feels so good,” you tell him, ready to say anything he wants you to if it means he fucks you harder-

His fingers draw small quick circles on your clit, and your legs twitch where they’re wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve hardly even fucked you- you can hold it a little longer, can’t you darling?” he prompts, nosing at your cheek. “For me?”

“I can-” you groan as he fucks you harder, “I can try- but- my clit-”

“Is this making it difficult for you?” Seungcheol smiles, relenting ever so slightly and then removing his hand all together in favour of wrapping it around your throat. “There, is that better?”

He squeezes your airway, and you’re simply unable to speak, unable to do anything but moan like a whore in heat while he fucks you closer and closer to an orgasm you’re desperately trying to hold off for him-

“You feel-” he lets out a groan, “unbelievable.”

No, he feels unbelievable, and you can’t even touch him with your hands still pinned-

You think if you could graze your fingers across his strong shoulders you’d cum instantly, so maybe it’s a good thing he has your wrists in his grasp-

“I think I want you to cum now,” he decides, and you’re thankful- only for him to release your throat and rub your clit, which has you whining loudly all over again- “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“God, daddy- yes!” you whimper- the coil in your stomach clenching as tightly as ever-

Then he releases your wrists, anchoring a hand against your abdomen to keep you down while he works you over the edge- and your own fingers immediately seek out the shoulders that have you dizzy with lust, core clamping down on his cock as you’re high hits you full force.

“Cheol-” you whimper, delighted by the way he immediately presses his lips to yours, eagerly eating up your sounds of pleasure and returning them with grunts and groans of his own while fucking you through one of the best orgasms of your entire life.

His tongue dances by yours, teeth teasing past your lip-

Your fingers are in his hair and you can feel him practically everywhere, your entire body alight with wonderful sensations of bliss-

It starts to slow too soon, but every up must have a down, and as his hips lose pace and your sounds lessen, you realize you’re truly, madly, deeply in love with Choi Seungcheol.

And you’ve known him for less than a week.

8: Wednesday

“Are you settling in okay?” Bora’s voice pulls you away from your daydreaming, and you tear your eyes off of Seungcheol to focus on the woman whose house you’ve been enjoying for much of the evening.

She’d been introduced to you as Seungcheol’s colleague’s wife, and you’ve yet to get any one on one with the very pregnant hostess, whose husband, Mingyu, has been circling her like a puppy this entire time.

“Yes,” you respond, finding your voice, “you have a very easy home to settle into.”

“I appreciate that,” she smiles, taking the free seat on the sofa next to you, one hand settling over her protruding stomach in a maternal way that makes your heart soften. “I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you since you arrived, but both of us seem to have a plus one that’s attached at the hip.”

Now it’s her turn to look over at Seungcheol and Mingyu, who are huddled around another psychologist friend of theirs, Wonwoo, and his wife, their attention fixed on the youngest member of the housewarming party, a six-month-old baby named Yumi.

“I feel as if I’m the plus one,” you say.

“Don’t be modest,” Bora brushes it off with a smile, “Cheol has had his hand on the small of your back for most of the evening. As much as they like to pretend they’re big shot psychologists, we’re the crutches that get them through the evening.”

You take a moment to consider her words.

This is the first event you’ve gone to with your new beau, and for much of it, you’ve been as intent to stick to Cheol’s side as he has been to yours.

“Trust me,” Bora continues, “give it a few minutes and they’ll migrate over here to be close to us.” She pauses, then, “Mingyu has to get used to being in the living room, a pregnant woman like me needs a good, comfortable seat.”

You both laugh at the way she touches her belly again, pushing it out and relaxing back on the sofa.

“How far along are you?” you ask.

Despite already having had dinner and discussion for an hour or two, much of the focus has been on the home and various publications that the four university friends have been working on, with Wonwoo’s wife Minji having arrived with Yumi only a short while ago.

“Eight months,” Bora sighs, continuing to stroke her baby bump. “I’m just about ready to pop. But enough about me and my belly, you’ve hardly spoken about yourself- and Cheol is always so focused on work, I’ve yet to get many details out of him, other than the fact that you’re worth skipping book club for. Did you two have a hot date last night?”

Your skin heats with embarrassment- “I didn’t know he’d skipped book club for me-”

“It’s a loose arrangement, Tuesdays at seven, I’m only teasing you,” Bora leans over to nudge you with her shoulder, offering you a sweet smile. “How did you two meet?”

The nondisclosure agreement pops into your mind like a red warning sign.

“Erm…” you swallow, “Cheol hasn’t told you?”

“Like I said, he’s very tight-lipped about it,” Bora explains. “But- I’ve never known Seungcheol to be a fan of changing his schedule- and the pearl necklace you’re wearing- the dress, your lovely nails- they all seem like gifts to me. Am I right?”

Her husband might be a psychologist, but Bora has just as much of a critical eye. She sees right through you.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Bora waves your silence off, “I know I’m right. I’ll figure you two out.”

“Are you being nosy again, Mrs. Kim?” Vernon, the fourth and quietest man of your new lover’s friend group joins you in the living room, taking a seat on the single chair to your left.

“Always,” Bora responds with a smile. “Wait, Vernon, maybe you know more about this. Y/N is being no fun- Cheol must have told you where and when they met-”

Vernon’s mouth opens in something like recognition-

“Ah ha!” Bora exclaims, leaning closer to you, sandwiching you in while she presses for more information. “So you do know!”

“I do, but-” Vernon looks at you, then he leans in too, his voice dipping to something near a whisper, “Are we allowed to talk about this?”

“Allowed?” Now Bora is even more hooked on finding the truth than before, and her gaze darts between you and the man on your left, who obviously knows at least a few details about you and Seungcheol’s ‘origin story.’

Due to the NDA, all you can do is sit there like a fish out of water, and you find yourself looking to Seungcheol, hoping he’ll see you in distress and come over to sort things out-

“Let’s just say-” Vernon sighs, giving in to the pregnant woman’s need for information, “Y/N, you seem like a great girl- as kind, calm, collected, and smart as Seungcheol told us you were- but, I am shocked he found you on a dating site.”

“A dating site?” Bora’s eyes have widened, and she shuffles closer to you on the couch, jaw dropped. “Stop- when I told him to try online dating after his last girlfriend I was honestly joking- everyone knows Tinder is hookup central these days.”

Bora is as inquisitive as anyone you’ve ever met, and she checks you and Vernon for your reactions, easily picking up on the shift of energy-

“Wait, not tinder?” She pauses, waiting for an answer. When it becomes obvious neither you nor Vernon are going to elaborate, she sighs and sits back a little. “Now that I think of it, tinder is an app, not a site- the only dating sites I can think of online are-”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off atop her head, and her jaw drops a little more- then she’s inching in close to you again, whispering as Vernon had done earlier, “You know what? Now that we’re discussing it- a sugar daddy site would be perfect for Cheol.”

Vernon groans, throwing his hand over his eyes and leaning forward. It’s clear he’d expected to be able to talk to you in something of vague code without Bora picking up on it- but it seems he’s underestimated the astute woman next to you.

“You guys are horrible at keeping secrets,” Bora grins, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol, who’s now picked up baby Yumi- “This is so interesting.”

“The plot thickens,” you offer, unable to say much more than that.

“Oh my god, stop,” Bora says playfully, poking your arm. “Obviously there’s some… agreement that’s been made between you and Cheol, so I’ll try not to prod you for much more information,” she promises, “but I’ll talk to Cheol and the next time we meet, you’ll be able to speak more freely.”

“The next time we meet?” you ask, wondering how the woman can be so sure of herself in every regard.

“We’ll meet again,” she tells you. “Trust me, anyone watching you and Seungcheol- well, anyone who knows him, can tell he really likes you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You think?”

Bora smiles at you. “Sweet girl, it’s obvious. Trust me, Seungcheol doesn’t bring around just anyone to parties with us, and like I said, he doesn’t often change his schedule for girls either. I don’t care what site you met on, you have that man whipped.”

“Bora-” the psychologist on your left groans.

“Vernon,” she retorts with the same tone.

They exchange a glance, a battle for dominance, and Bora wins, Vernon releasing a sigh before leaning back in his chair.

“You know what is surprising?” he asks.

“Tell us,” Bora mirrors him, relaxing back against the couch.

“How good Cheol is being with Yumi tonight.” Vernon is watching his friends and the baby again, and soon all three of you are.

“That’s a good point, Vernon,” Bora grins, nudging you a little with her elbow. “I wonder why that is?”

You think her intuition has finally run dry. She can’t be insinuating that you’re partially the reason behind Seungcheol’s apparent baby fever-

And if she is, she has another shock coming for her when she finally talks to Cheol and finds out that ‘no babies’ was one of the clauses of your dating agreement.

“I think, Cheol’s the kind of man who likes seeing people happy, and Yumi is very expressive” you offer. “People can like babies without wanting one for themselves.”

Bora lets out a scoff. “Right, Mingyu and I always thought we just ‘liked babies,’ and now look at me. Liking babies is always how it starts, and before you know it, nine months have gone by, you’ve turned into a balloon and are buying a new home big enough to raise a family in.”

You are envious of her position, but at the same time, you’re acutely aware that you and Cheol are extremely new to each other. He’s not the kind of man to be hasty- or at least, you’d thought he wasn’t, but as Bora had mentioned, Seungcheol doesn’t introduce just anyone to his friends.

You’ll have to talk with him about this and you know it, but until then, it’s enough to just sit between his friends and watch him play with Yumi, who seems to give everyone in the vicinity a serious case of baby fever.

9: Thursday

“Hold up-” Seungkwan says, interrupting you with a wave of his hands, and they land on your knees, “wait a minute- so he makes you sign an NDA, and then invites you out with his friends, and one of them like- bombards you for an hour about him-”

“It wasn’t an hour-”

“Sure-”

“And she wasn’t bombarding,” you correct.

“Ok, fine, yeah, whatever- but then-” Seungkwan takes a deep breath, “he also has a thing about no babies, and in the first week- straight up rubs a baby in your face for an entire night-”

“Yumi was only there for an hour or so before we left-”

“And then!” your best friend interrupts you again, “on the car ride home, instead of discussing it with him like adults- ya’ll put up the separation between you and his hot as fuck driver, and nearly fucked in the back seat-”

“Oh my god, stop-” you groan, “I told you, it was just kissing-”

“With you straddling the man!” Seunkwan yells back. “And all of this, after he switched his schedule to fuck you on Tuesday night- even though you said it would go slow-”

“Actually, he told me he wouldn’t fuck me till the third date, and if we didn’t meet Tuesday, the night with his friends on Wednesday would have been the third date, so-”

“I swear to fucking god, I have whiplash,” Seungkwan tells you, looking as serious as ever. “Ya’ll make me sick! Sick I say! What in the ever-loving fanfic is this bullshit-”

“Have you been writing more Hannibal and Will love stories again?”

“Maybe.��

“Are you going to write a fanfic about Will and Hannibal based on me and Cheol?”

“Maybe…”

“Seungkwan!”

“Well don’t tell me juicy stories if you don’t want them getting thrown in a sex fantasy! Ya’ll nearly fucked in the back of a car with a hot chauffeur-”

“I told you-” you begin to defend yourself again, only to be cut off by your phone buzzing.

Both you and Seungkwan look to your cell, placed a foot or two away on the coffee table.

“Daddy,” you both say in unison, and then you’re lurching for your phone.

“Seungkwan stop!” you screech, grabbing onto his sweater when he latches onto the device first.

“Put him on speaker!” Seungkwan declares, holding your cell just out of your reach while it rings.

“Yeah- I’ll put him on speaker-” you fold easily, “just give me the phone!”

Instead of handing it to you right away, your best friend answers the call and hits speaker, then thrusts it towards your face.

“Hi, daddy!” you blurt out, flustered from the small dust up you’d just had with your friend over the entire situation.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line, then “Hi, sweetheart. It sounds like I’ve interrupted something.”

“Just-” you grab the cell back from Seungkwan, “just had trouble finding my phone is all, was worried you’d be sent to voicemail.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Your heart swoons, and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to scream into. “Good to hear yours too.”

“I’m just calling to see if we’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah- do you still want to see me? I know you were very specific when we met about meeting up once or twice a week, and I’ve already seen you twice in the past three days-”

“Once or twice a week, plus the occasional group event,” Seungcheol clarifies for you. “I’d really enjoy having you over tomorrow, if you haven’t already made plans. I won’t hold it against you if you have, I can see how there might have been a small miscommunication- especially after my… erratic behavour this week, fitting you in on Tuesday- scheduling will almost always be smoother than it has been these last few days.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow- I haven’t made any other plans.”

“Good.” You can hear him smiling. “Since it’s a Friday, and I don’t have any specific work engagements on weekends, how do you feel about bringing an overnight bag?”

Seungkwan drops his pillow.

“I would love that, too-” you say.

“Perfect. Should we say pick up at seven?”

“Sounds great.”

God, he makes everything so easy-

“Can’t wait to see you again, angel. Have a good evening, you deserve it.”

You deserved to get dicked down.

“Have a good night too, Cheol.”

10: Friday

When you exit your building, you’re shocked to find a different car - and an entirely different driver - waiting to take you to Seungcheol’s home.

The man himself is standing aside a sleek, black, two-seater sports car, dressed in his usual suit aesthetic that shows off the broadness of his shoulders-

You go feral nearly immediately, and it takes everything in you to stop from practically drooling as you close the distance between you and the man who pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet for a greeting.

“Hey there, angel,” his breath tickles your hair and he sets you back down. He takes your hands gently, holding them out to the sides so he can get a good look at your outfit, a red dress you’d chosen, knowing it’s his favourite colour. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, playing with his fingers.

One quick motion has him spinning you like a dancer, and you find yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Ready to go?” he asks when you’ve come to a stop in front of him again.

“Uh huh,” you nod, giving your head a little shake to pull yourself from a lust-fueled daze, “sorry, I was just- I wasn’t expecting you to be the one picking me up.”

“I gave Seokmin the night off,” Seungcheol tells you, opening the car’s passenger side door and holding out a hand to help you in. “Hope that’s okay,” he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before taking your overnight bag and closing you into the vehicle.

He puts your bag in the back trunk, then slips into the driver’s seat.

Seungcheol’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently, offering you a small smile. “I know we’re planning on having you stay the night, but if you decide you don’t want to sleep over, I can always drive you home later.”

“Cheol,” you rest your hand on top of his, “I think we both know I’m not going to take you up on that offer.”

“Sure, but I figured I’d put it on the table regardless.”

You smile, leaning in to steal a kiss to his cheek, as he had when he helped you into your seat. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” he insists, giving your thigh another squeeze before reaching for the ignition.

The car revs to life.

It’s hard not to stare at Seungcheol while he drives, and luckily, his hand returns to your thigh, giving you something to focus on. You take to playing with his fingers, marveling at how handsome every inch of him is.

“Vernon called me yesterday,” Seungcheol says, dragging your attention from his hands.

“Oh?”

“He admitted to slipping up and giving Bora ideas.” Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, “said you looked like a deer in headlights when he arrived to the conversation- she was pressing you for details, huh?”

“Not in a bad way,” you tell him, wanting to defend the woman who you’re already coming to think of as a friend. “She was just- curious.”

“It’s my fault for not being specific with you about the NDA, or with Vernon for that matter- the NDA is primarily for when we go to work events outside of our inner circle, which is why your best friend is mentioned on the form you signed- it seems both Vernon and Mingyu were under the idea that I wanted to be highly secretive about us- but I’ve explained to them the nuances of it all. The next time you see Bora, please, feel free to discuss it with her, or Vernon, or Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minji- as long as you’re not too specific with Yumi, you can consider the baby a confidant as well.”

He’s obviously joking about the baby, but the mention of the child brings those same warm fuzzy conflicted feelings that you’d experienced last night at the get-together.

There will be a time to talk with Seungcheol about his seemingly dualistic baby fever and baby aversion- but tonight is not the night for it.

You’re thankful he’d even brought up the topic of Bora and the NDA, and already, what little anxiety you’d felt about this whole thing has been substantially dwindled.

“I really liked your friends,” you admit, thinking back to how pleasant the evening had been. Despite Bora’s teasing and prying, she’d been nothing but a courteous host when Seungcheol and Mingyu had predictably rejoined you in the living room.

“They liked you too, angel. I knew they would.” He lets go of your thigh in favor of gently taking your hand.

You can already feel your panties beginning to get wet-

No man’s hands have ever had this effect on you before- and maybe it has to do, in part, with the whole ‘quirofilia’ thing-

Or maybe, Cheol is simply a man made by the hands of god himself- after all, how could he be this perfect without something like divine intervention?

Before you know it, you’re at Seungcheol’s house, and he’s pulling into the underground garage, where he parks next to the rolls-royce you’re accustomed to being driven in.

Ever the gentleman, Seungcheol makes sure to come around and open your door for you, your duffle swung over his arm. He refuses to give it back to you, insisting on carrying it up to his home, where the two of you head to his bedroom instinctually.

He sets the bag down, turning to look at you, opening his mouth to say something-

But your patience has already run thin, and you all but launch yourself at the broad man, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his while his hands find your waist.

He laughs into the kiss, and you think he must not have been expecting you to jump him like this.

Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you?

“Cheol-” you groan, moving your lips to his neck-

“Eager, angel?” Seungcheol reaches down to cup your bum, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. “It was hard being close but not able to properly touch you at the gettogether-” he says, taking a few steps back and collapsing down onto his bed, steadying you on top of him, “Could hardly even get work done today-”

“Was I that distracting for you, daddy?” you coo, teeth teasing past his earlobe.

He releases a groan, hands digging into your hips, forcing you down on his cock, which presses up against his dress pants, caught between your bodies. “Always.”

“How can I fix it?” you wonder out loud, hands already going for the buttons of his shirt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You do, angel,” Seungcheol tells you, “make daddy feel so good.”

“Wanna make you feel even better-” Then an idea comes to your head, “How about… a massage?” you suggest, thinking back to a paragraph you’d read from his book yesterday. “Aren’t you the one who claims relaxation time, such as stretching, massages, and the like, can be just as beneficial to the mind and body as activity itself?”

“Look at you, quoting my own work at me,” he releases a deep groan. “Are you sure that’s what you want to get up to tonight?”

“Just to start,” you tell him. “We have the whole evening- and tomorrow morning- why not start the night off with something like a massage? And work our way into…” you swivel your hips, “harder things.”

“I like the sound of that, angel,” he confesses with another sigh of pleasure as you kiss the sweet spot just under his ear. “But you’ve got to let me get up so I can grab massage oil.”

You’d forgotten about that part, and the idea of letting Seungcheol leave you - even for a moment - brings out a bratty side of you that you’ve never truly experienced.

It takes all your willpower to concede, getting off of the man who sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he questions, seeing the shift in your energy.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just hurry.”

He laughs, reaching out to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The kiss he places on your lips is as chaste as your first had been, and it leaves you tingling with potential, even as he stands and heads to the ensuite bathroom.

In his absence, you begin to take off your clothes, removing everything down to your bra and panties, and then, just for good measure, you settle onto your knees on the foot of his bed, trying to be as patient as possible.

You’re rewarded when Seungcheol appears in the doorway again, having stripped himself of his shirt. There’s a bottle of baby oil trapped between his teeth, and his hands are working on his belt and pants-

When he sees you sitting on the foot of his bed, like the best girl there ever was, he lets the baby bottle drop from his mouth, catching it easily in one hand- “look at you,” he breathes, scanning your form.

“Like what you see, daddy?” you tease, skin heating from the attention he gives you.

“Love it,” he tells you. “How good are your reflexes, darling?”

You open your mouth to respond, only to have him toss the bottle of oil at you.

Unlike him, you don’t catch it gracefully, the bottle almost slipping out of your hands- there’s a small fumble but your digits wrap around it-

Seungcheol laughs at you. “With butter fingers like that- should I be getting us a towel to put down?”

You hate that it’s a legitimate question.

And you doubly hate that the answer is a resounding yes, which you verbalize to him, annoyed that he’ll be leaving again-

But then you’re graced with a full view of his beautiful back when he turns to head into the bathroom again, and you decide to be a good, patient girl for just a few more moments.

Seungcheol returns, and you bite your tongue while you watch him set the towel down, but as soon as it’s settled, you find yourself saying - in something like a command - “on your stomach first,” you’re quick to adjust to your tone, “I wanna work your back out a little to start.”

“How could I say no to that?” Seungcheol grins, following through and laying flat on the towel.

You nearly drool while watching him adjust his arms, propping his head up with both hands under his chin. His biceps are bulging and your mouth is definitely beginning to water again, prompting you to lick your lips-

“Have you given many massages before?” he asks, as you straddle his hips, continuing to marvel at the shape of his perfect form-

“Erm- define many?”

He chuckles, and you flip the cap of the baby oil, allowing the liquid to pour into your palm. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It can’t be that hard,” you tell him, bringing your hands to the muscled back that has you wet like the ocean every time you see it.

“Tell that to my chiropractor,” he says, a joke that makes you both laugh.

You begin to work away at his muscles, both hands smoothing up and down his back, focusing in on the shoulders you love so much-

“Feels good,” Seungcheol groans, releasing a deep sigh of relief that has your ego shooting through the roof.

“That’s good daddy,” you tell him, leaning over him and applying more of your body weight as pressure for your hands. “You deserve to relax.”

He chuckles slightly, and you realize you’re picking up on some of his diction. Hasn’t he been the one telling you what you deserve thus far?

All it takes is you being on top and you begin to emulate his mannerisms, the soft dom tendency towards praise.

You can tell he’s enjoying it, and you are too, your panties getting wetter with every second your hands are on his broad shoulders-

“Can you flip now?” you prompt, knowing it hasn’t been that long that you’ve been working on his back- but you miss his face, and you’re eager to get your hands on his chest-

With a grunt of affirmation, Seungcheol begins to turn, and you lift yourself off of him enough to allow the movement. Once he’s on his back, you settle down again, capturing his cock between your bodies as it strains against his pants.

“You like this position, huh?” he asks, smiling up at you with an expression that exudes adoration.

His hands find your thighs, rubbing up and down while you get more oil on your palms. “Not always,” you tell him, beginning to massage his chest, “top can be fun to start, in some cases, but- I really liked being under you the last time we were in your bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

You avoid his gaze, knowing your skin is heating from what you’d just admitted. “Uh huh.”

“You’re cute,” he breathes, rubbing circles on your thighs, “getting all shy while sitting on top of me like this.”

“I’m trying to focus,” you tell him, trailing your fingers down to his abdomen.

“You look a little dazed, darling,” he presses, “are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“I’ve hardly massaged you yet-” you go to argue, but Seungcheol is already making the move to sit up.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head back the way he had last time- his breath is hot against your throat, and he trails his nose up under your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear. “What if I don’t care about the massage anymore?”

“Then-” you swallow thickly, pussy throbbing when his free hand unclasps your bra behind you, “then, okay.”

“Okay?” he chuckles. “My love, I don’t think ‘then, okay’ is a sentence.”

“Fuck me?”

“Not too sure that’s a sentence either, but, your wish is my command.”

It seems like the easiest thing in the world for him to discard your bra and flip you onto your back, lips finding your own, tearing your breath away.

Your legs tighten around his waist, and his oiled chest slides against yours, your newly freed nipples pebbling at the direct contact-

One of his hands, slides between your bodies, skimming over your breast and cupping it, squeezing. You release a moan of pleasure, hips bucking, pushing up towards him-

Your own hands slide over his slippery shoulders, and you mentally kick yourself for having lubed him up- there’s hardly anything to grasp onto, so you latch onto his hair instead, kissing him harder.

He releases your breast, hand slipping down and under the waistband of your panties. When his fingers find your core, they tease past your clit, and you can feel the silkiness of the baby oil on his digits, which glide into your wet hole as easily as ever.

“Cheol-” you moan desperately, wanting to push your hips up- to get closer, but he holds you down with his large body, lips moving to your neck.

You realize, as his expert fingers crook up and find your gspot, that the last time you’d fucked, he’d never fingered you. You’d gotten to experience his tongue and his cock, but the middle and ring fingers that explore your pussy have something like trained exactitude, hitting the spot that has your toes curling with deadly precision.

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, looking for an anchor while he begins to thrust his digits into you with enough force that your hips begin to rock-

The palm of his hand applies pressure to your clit, rubbing you through the rough manhandling that has you achingly close to an orgasm within no time-

“Gonna cum?” he prompts in your ear, hot breath making your skin tingle.

“Yes, daddy-” it’s the most you can do to hold onto him and clench your eyes shut, an intense feeling of euphoric pressure erupting between your legs-

“That’s it gorgeous, let it all out-” he groans, fingers unrelenting-

You can hear your pussy, squelching sinfully around his fingers- and you can feel wetness gushing between your thighs-

In the back of your mind, you realize you’re squirting, cumming completely undone on his hand, but you’re too lost in the feeling of it to care.

He finger fucks you to the point of overwhelm, until your whines and whimpers are hoarse and tears well in the corners of your shut eyes-

And then he’s pulling his hand out of your panties, and the soaked material is left to cling back to your sopping hole.

Your arms go slack, landing on the bed next to you, and Seungcheol pulls away from your body, making you moan desperately, eyes opening to watch him-

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he promises, pushing his own pants down before kicking them to the side, then he goes to tear your panties off, and you see, for the first time, how truly ruined they are. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone squirt this much,” he tells you, discarding the fabric so he can rejoin you on the bed, the both of you fully nude. “Did that feel good?”

“So good-” you whimper, hardly able to form sentences in your delirious, sex induced brain fog-

Seungcheol slots himself between your thighs again, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped your eye. “Do you need a moment?”

“No!” you’re quick to protest, locking your legs around his hips. “Fuck me- daddy- please-”

You don’t think any cock has ever entered you as smoothly as his does, aided by the copious amount of wet arousal still dribbling out of your hole.

Seungcheol tucks his face against the crook of your neck, supporting himself above you with two hands buried into the pillow on either side of your head. His lips are feverish against your throat, and the groans he releases as he begins to fuck you make you as horny as ever.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, rutting into you with a pace and power that increases with every slap of skin on skin- “so perfect for me-”

“Daddy-” you whine, clawing at his back while he ravages your insides.

“So responsive-” his teeth graze past your neck and you shiver, whole body tingling with delight.

“Harder-” you moan.

“Harder?” he releases something like a laugh, and then you hear him swallow, adjusting his position so he can dig his elbows into the bed, hooking his forearms under your own shoulders, which props you up ever so slightly- enough to change the angle and allow him to follow through with your request.

You release a squeak at the feeling of being completely at his mercy, completely wrapped in Cheol while he’s wrapped in you- the perfect combination really.

The sounds escaping you aren’t something you can hold back, and each rough thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, a spot that has you becoming a mewling, moaning, whimpering mess for him.

“Just like that-” you tell him desperately, grabbing at his hair, eager to hold onto something while you get fucked into oblivion-

“You close, gorgeous?” he asks, and all you can do is moan, which makes him chuckle, “yeah you are,” he breathes. “Squeezing daddy so fucking tight- you were made for this, weren’t you, angel?”

“Yes-”

“Made to be fucked-” he growls, rutting into you even harder-

You’re not sure where sweet, soft dom Seungcheol has gone, but you’re more than happy to be decimated by the man fucking into you like an animal, and his sinful praisings go straight to your pussy, which clenches around him even more.

“That’s it angel, that’s it-” he groans, “just a little more-” one of his hands moves to grab your thigh, hiking it higher on his waist-

He hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and you gasp loudly, crying out-

“Cum for me,” he instructs, and before your mind has even registered his words, your pussy is following through with the command, clamping down onto him while the biggest orgasm of your life slams into you like a freight train.

Seungcheol lets out delicious sounds of pleasure, gasping against your throat, fucking you through your orgasm while coating your insides with his own release-

You’re completely surrounded by him.

There’s nothing else, only you and Cheol… and perhaps the ruined towel below you, dragging against your back with each rough thrust.

His motions begin to slow, and he comes to a stop, collapsing some of his body weight down against you while you both struggle to catch your breath.

Neither of you say anything, too lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

But with Cheol, you don’t need to say anything. You’re completely safe with him, completely content to rest in his arms, knowing there’s not a single place in the world you’d rather be.

11: Saturday

Waking up in Seungcheol’s bed, you immediately stretch in search of him- only to find the bed empty.

Sitting up, and wrapping the quilt around your nude body, you look around, blinking away residual grogginess.

The man who’d fucked you silly until the late hours of the morning is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help the way annoyance floods through you. But you remind yourself that Seungcheol likes his schedules, and a quick check of the clock next to the bed shows you that it’s eleven am, so you suppose you can’t be mad at Cheol for not staying with you while you slept half the day away.

Getting out of bed, you’re surprised to find just how sore your body is.

Your thighs burn- and you suppose a round number five riding session may have not been the best idea last night.

You find the simple black sleeping shirt Seungcheol had given you before deciding to tear it off of you for round six, and you enjoy the way it dwarfs you.

Sometimes you still can’t believe how big and broad Cheol is-

Finding your overnight bag, you take out a fresh pair of panties, and decide to head off in search of Seungcheol in the simple shirt and underwear look. It’s doubtful you’ll be wearing it for much longer regardless.

It’s not hard to find your psychologist lover, after all, you simply have to follow the smell of food to the kitchen.

Your sugar daddy is standing at the stove, one hand holding a spatula while he cooks eggs, the other propping up a book that he’s quietly reading.

He’s so sexy and smart- and sexy… and smart.

You can’t help but tiptoe towards him, latching onto his back and pressing your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, releasing a groan of pleasure to finally be connected to him again.

“Morning, angel,” Seungcheol greets you, setting his book down before adjusting you, tugging you so you’re in front of him and he can meet your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” you beam at him, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “And you?”

“Never better,” he returns your smile, and your heart practically melts. “Hungry?”

“Definitely- are you my master chef today?”

He laughs. “I’m not sure I’m that good, cooking is a hobby I’ve only truly picked up in recent years.”

“Right,” you say, turning in his arms to look down at the pan in front of you. “Very hard ingredient, eggs.”

Seungcheol releases a cross between a chuckle and a sigh behind you, poking at your ribcage. “I can make more than eggs. I just figured, I don’t really know what you like when it comes to food, so I’d make something safe and healthy. Besides, I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

“So this is just for you, is that what you’re saying?” you tease him some more, enjoying the domesticity of this- it’s as if you’ve done this a hundred times before, or at least, you have the peace that comes with familiarity.

“If I had known you were such a brat-” he begins, but you cut him off with a squeal and turn to face him again, insisting “I’m not a brat!”

He simply looks at you with a smile.

“You’re being mean to me,” you pout, cupping the back of his neck and getting closer to him.

Seungcheol scoffs, shaking his head slightly. He’s quick to change the subject. “Eggs are done, are you going to come sit with me at the table?”

With a sigh, you release the psychologist, allowing him to move the eggs to a plate- and when you turn to head to the table, you see a tray of fresh fruit and other breakfast items.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge, water, or I can make you some coffee,” Seungcheol says, following you to the table where you both take your seats.

“I’m okay for now,” you tell him, grabbing a particularly tasty-looking piece of fruit to gnaw on. “Thanks, daddy.”

Seungcheol smiles, looking down at the healthy fruit options. “You know,” he says, moving a few pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew to his plate, “I’ve been wondering about you and your daddy kink.”

“Hmm?”

“Just that- we’ve never discussed it, not explicitly- I guess, being a sugar daddy, the term is in the name, but… you took to it very easily,” he explains.

“Are you suggesting I have inherent daddy issues?”

“Not suggesting, merely… wondering.”

“How about this,” you set your fruit down, “I’ll talk about my daddy issues when you tell me why you think you’d be a bad father.”

Seungcheol looks at you quizzically.

“I know you say it’s about your work and not having enough time, but- you’re settled in your career and reputation. You have this big house, a chauffeur, a group of smart psychologist friends who are popping out babies right now- and I saw the way you were with baby Yumi. looking at all of that- the only reason I can think of for why you’d be… adverse to babies, is that you have some personal reasons to think you’d be bad at it.”

The man across from you stays quiet, leaning back in his chair, but a smile works its way across his face. Then, he sighs, “touche.”

“So I guess neither of us will be talking about our daddy issues at the breakfast table,” you conclude, picking at your fruit again.

“How did I ever find a girl like you on a dating site?” Seungcheol says. “So pretty, and smart-”

“How did I ever find you on a dating site?” you retort, “so sexy, and smart-”

“Maybe finding each other was destiny.”

“Do you believe in that sort of thing?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Many men of science that I’ve heard of tend to lean towards atheism.”

“Maybe I used to, but then- let’s just say, I found an angel, and my world’s been flipped upside down ever since.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you avert your gaze, looking down at your fruit. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“As I’ve told you before, angel,” Seungcheol reaches his hand across the table, placing it over your own, “you deserve it.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this fic was never supposed to be this long- i don't know what came over me- it was very self-indulgent :) hope you liked it!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. You can’t believe how easy it is for Seungcheol to get you quaking for him- but you suppose, in some sense, you’re always quaking for your sugar daddy, who’d turned the entire trajectory of your life around the moment you’d met.

cw/ tw. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, daddy/breeding kink, bickering like an old married couple, praise, semi-bondage, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 370

🌙 staring. seungcheol x afab!Reader

bonus teaser

“Are you checking your book sales again?” you groan, leaning over the back of the sunlounger chair to look over Seungcheol’s shoulders, your hands smoothing down his bare chest-

“No,” your psychologist lover says, closing his laptop and setting it on the side table next to him.

“Liar,” you grin, moving around the front of his chair so he can see you and the red bikini adorning your body- one of many sets you’ve accumulated over the two and a half years you’ve been dating Seungcheol.

You have no actual intent of going into the private pool behind you.

Seungcheol’s eyes eat you up, and the smile of appreciation that works its way onto his lips is as bright and full of affection as it’s always been. “Look at you, angel. I’ll never get tired of seeing you in red.”

“Ass kisser,” you tease, watching him stand up from the poolside chair. “I thought we agreed no work on our honeymoon.”

“It’s true that I promised that- but… checking sales on my new book isn’t work, it’s… checking sales on my new book, and besides, you were asleep,” your husband grins, hands finding your waist and tugging you to his chest. “What if you pretend you never saw me on my laptop.”

You roll your eyes. He’s gotten cheekier the longer you’ve been together, and this playful side of your relationship isn’t something you’d trade for the entire world.

“You always get up to naughty things while I’m sleeping,” you tease, playing the part of an upset wife.

“Come on,” Seungcheol prompts, leaning down to kiss you, “say you love me.”

“I’ll say I love you when you fulfill your other promise.”

“You know, we’re what, three days into this vacation?” Seungcheol pulls you closer. “Who’s to say I haven’t already pumped a baby into you?”

“Me,” you grin, hooking your fingers in his swim trunks. “I don’t feel full at all right now, in any way, shape, or form.”

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about filling you up sufficiently,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before throwing you over his shoulder and taking you back into your private vacation villa..

God, you fucking love this man.

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