#I will continue to have my 1 million situationships and he will be one of them except he really isn't at this point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dimeforhispocket · 6 years ago

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As if it’s Our Last (Part 1/2)

Nafla x fem!reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: some angst but a ton of fluff

Word count: 12k

Summary: lifetime opportunities only come once, don’t they?

Notes: situationship, implied sexual content, you can also read on my AO3

Situationship (as defined by our good friend, urban dictionary): a relationship that has no label on it, like a friendship but more than a friendship but not quite a relationship

You can’t believe your ass. If God himself came to you in a vision and told you that your dream man of all your hip hop fantasies would find you and ask you to dance, you’d have laughed and said, “Thank you, I gotta write this down when I wake up.”

So when the man himself — the man whose voice is always echoing through your earphones, whose face is taped to your bedroom wall, whose albums have their own special decorated shelf — appears behind you in the darkness of the night club sending appreciative smiles at the way your body moves, you do a double take. A triple, even.

The first time because you wanted to make sure you weren’t so drunk that you started to hallucinate your favorite rapper’s face amidst the warm bodies up in the club, the second to check to see if he was sending the smile to anyone else. And when you blink back the surprise, you chance a smile back. You really don’t know what to expect at this point, or what to even think, but you’re floored by the steps he takes to dance closer to you.

With the way that he’s dancing, there’s no mistaking the flirtiness in his movements. You would read it as so if any other guy at the club tonight approached you in the same way. And as much as you want to relish the fact that the man beyond your dreams is actually hitting on you right now, you can’t hold back the excitement.

So without anymore restraint, you lean in to shout, “Wow, are you really Nafla?!”

You can just barely hear his soft laugh at your question before he smiles and nods, which is admittedly easier than shouting back his answer. You dramatize your responding “oh my god, I love you” as you continue to dance beside him.

He smiles back like he knows, and you can see his lips move around the words ‘thank you.’ You really need a good ten minutes to just take all of him in; his face, his aura, his clothes, his height, his skin, his body, how comfortable he is just dancing in this surprisingly respectful crowd. You suppose it makes sense since this is one of the more high-end clubs in the city, so the clientele is a little more mature than all the ones frequented by the college and fresh graduate crowd.

You need those minutes, but one of your favorite songs comes on and it is physically impossible for you not to enjoy it and pull out all your best dance moves. So you cry happily at the song transition and let your body roll and pop and bounce to every bass boost, hand clap, and drum that bumps the room with energy. As you dance, you steal glances back at Nafla every so often to see if his attention is still on you, and to your delight, he seems like he hasn’t looked away.

God, are you really not dreaming right now? Are you really dancing with Nafla from MKIT RAIN after he just showed up beside you like any other regular dude trying to pick up a girl at the club? Is he really just trying to pick you up right now? Here of all places? Out of all these people? Really, truly, what are the odds?

You dance together for a couple more songs and just enjoy the vibe together because this DJ’s set just keeps getting better and better. It’s like he based the entire thing off of playlist in your own music library — which is something you were hoping for when you came in tonight, since you researched him online before coming to this club in hopes that he’d play something similar. But it all feels too good to be true; you’re dancing with your favorite K-hiphop rapper to some of the best music in this amazing club, and no one is bothering you two. It’s as if no one recognizes him or just doesn’t care that Nafla is here, dancing like a regular attendee.

So to roll with the motions of dancing with a guy who’s interested in you, you let him dance closer and closer to you until he’s got his hands on you. And wow, he’s not the biggest guy, but he’s got some of the firmest hands you’ve ever felt on your hips right now. He’s keeping a respectful couple of inches between you, so you bring your arms to wrap around his neck to show him you’re fine with closing the distance.

He’s kind of a tease, because even when you try to inch closer, rub your hips towards him, dancing a little more sensually to the music playing, he kind of just lets you. And when he doesn’t make a move to touch you further, you start to lose your courage. Maybe he isn’t trying to pick you up after all?

However, in a last ditch effort, your courage spikes again with the start of another one of your favorite jams and you move your hands down his shoulders and arms and twirl sensually in his grip until your back is to his chest. When the chorus peaks, you arch your back and move your ass across his hips like you’re trying to smear him in your pheromones.

To your delight — and relief — he grinds back, and it’s like a switch has been flipped in him. While he had cautious hands before, now they’re rolling all over the length of your body. He’s touching at your sides, your thighs, your stomach, your arms, and you feel your skin tingling with excitement as he gets closer to your crotch. “I like watching you dance.” He surprises you with the surprise murmur by your ear.

“I like you dancing on me.” You say back, hoping he heard you through the music. You’re inclined to believe that he did, with the way that he responds by pushing your thighs back to bring your ass harder against his hips.

And suddenly, your brain sounds louder than the entire club, because you’re internally screaming to yourself that you have Nafla’s bulge pressed into your behind. Nafla is grinding against you like he’s trying to take it further. Oh god, what are you to do? Will your dreams of becoming one of Nafla’s bedroom groupies come true??

It’s not long before he turns you back around in his arms to hug you closer, ask you for your name, exchange a few more flirty words lip-to-ear, and then exchange spit lip-to-lip. He tastes amazing. The different mixed alcohols and sodas mask it, but he’s got a manly and robust taste about him. You can’t even begin to describe it, so you just taste. You move your lips in tandem with his and let his tongue peek into your mouth every so often.

He’s a better kisser than the average guy at the club, which gives you reason to believe that he’ll be even more talented in other ways. The way he holds you makes you feel enveloped in him, like his arms and scent and presence just pull you in to completely surround you. Your own hands trail up his back and hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you further, making you dizzy in a way that the alcohol never could.

Your heart is jumping in your chest not only because freaking Nafla is kissing you, but also because he’s kissing you so good. Is this what it feels like to make out with someone you’ve only been able to fantasize about? Is it truly possible for dream men to fall right into your lap and give themselves to you? God, no one will believe you if you retell this to someone. You’re still not 100% sure that this is really Nafla and that this is really happening to you right now.

But when he pulls away with the most satisfying smacking sound, you blink at that unmistakable face and listen to that irreplicable voice when he leans back in to say, “You taste so good.”

If he wasn’t practically holding you up as he pulled you in to kiss you again, you might’ve actually fainted on him. Fuck, how can he say that to you?? This feels so, so dangerous and comparable to a high that can only be achieved by drug intake. Because you’re absolutely hooked onto him right now.

You kiss for who knows how long, and you don’t even know if the music is good anymore. Nafla eventually pulls away though, only to lean in to ask, “Wanna get outta here with me?”

Yes!!!!!

Absolutely yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God, a fucking million times yes. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, when are you ever going to get a chance like this again?? Fuck!!!

But— “I can’t.” You squeeze your eyes together like you’re in pain, “I can’t leave my friend tonight. I promised.”

“Ah.” Nafla sounds and looks disappointed, though maybe not as much as you are.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to say, “But if you wanna come back tomorrow night… I can meet you here.” You hope to God that that didn’t sound desperate.

He smiles at you like an adult does at a kid when they propose something silly, but leans in anyway, “I can’t make it.”

You dramatically tilt your head to the side with a pout before leaning in again, “That’s a shame.” Then a quick glance over to the door between the table area and the bathrooms has your mouth running again before you can think, “How about a quick trip to the back then?”

You tilt your head again in a way that you hope looks cute and alluring, and Nafla stares at you for a moment before breaking into a small chuckle again and nodding, “Sure.”

When you pull his hand across the back of your waist into your hand, you swear you feel sparks. Enough to make the fire in your core light up. You giggle and turn around towards the door you spotted earlier. On the way, you spot your friend at the bar talking to someone, so you quickly talk in her ear, “I’ll be right back” and send her wink before leading Nafla to the back.

Now, you’ve never actually been behind this door, so you don’t know what to expect. But you are somewhat relieved when you open it to find a small, dim hallway rather than a dusty, tight supply closet. The door on the other side probably leads to the parking lot out back or possibly more storage.

But you figure this is private enough, so you put rest your back against the wall and Nafla follows to close the door and press his chest into yours. “You’re a wild one, huh?”

“You followed me here, didn’t you?” You shrug, putting your arms around his neck again, waiting for him to come in for another kiss.

“True,” he agrees, coming in to gently caress your nose with his, “I’m curious.” And he’s kissing you again, in that absolutely perfect way that he does. You already knew that the guy has some talented lips, what with the music he puts out, but this is a whole ‘nother art form. He kisses you like he’s known you for ages, like he loves you or something, and you are so far gone into him that you can’t do anything else but fall.

Can all of your hopes and dreams really come true like this? Nafla is already here and interested in you and he’s good at this?? You want so badly to find out more, more about him and how amazing he is in all kinds of ways. This unbelievable proximity just drives your insatiable hunger to learn more about him in ways that you won’t be able to find online. You’re so excited that you can feel your knees buckling beneath you.

And when he puts his hands on you, fuck , he’s as good with those as he is with his mouth. He puts the perfect amount of pressure on your breasts as he rolls them in his fingers and palms. When he starts moving down to kiss at your neck, you wonder if it’s becoming too much. This is all becoming too unreal. Like— Nafla’s hand is trailing up your dress.

He teases you for a good couple of minutes until you start to beg him, which he seems to find amusing. When you’re both finally worked up enough on each other’s touches and heavy breaths, Nafla pulls his pants down and approaches you until—

“Wait.” You stop him by the shoulder, “Don’t you have a condom?”

“No, I don’t.” He says, “I wasn’t planning on doing anything here, but I… had a change of heart.” He locks you in with his bedroom eyes. Fuck. “But I’ll be careful.” He starts to lean back in.

“Stop… Stop.” You have to say it twice because your voice barely came out the first time. You’ve lost a lot of strength just being with him for a few minutes like this. But you have to make yourself clear, so you clear out your throat before continuing, “Look, I think you’re so cool and so fine, and I can’t even believe I’m here with you right now. But I don’t care who you are, I’m not letting you in here unless you have one on.”

You’re breaking your own heart by saying this, but no matter whose dick it is, you still have to take care of yourself. You’ve followed this man for years, but you still don’t really know much about him. Who knows how many people he’s slept with? Or if he’s clean? Or if he’ll be there for you should something happen? You love him, but… you still have to be careful.

Nafla takes a moment but backs away with a sigh, “I get that.”

But before he can zip up his pants again, you say, “I can give you a little suck though.” And to prove it, you drop to your knees on this somewhat gross floor and look up at him with the soft, fluttery eyes that you’ve practiced over the years to put men under your control.

Much to your satisfaction, Nafla is no different to the effect, and he lets out a shaky breath before combing his fingers through your hair. “Fine,” he says.

So you flash him the most sultry smile in your artillery — also one you’ve been honing for a good amount of time — and by the time he’s in your mouth, he might as well have been pleading with the desperation you see in his eyes. Needless to say, you give him the time of his life, and you know that you’re going to be replaying these noises he makes in your head for weeks to come. You’re making Nafla feel good and he’s totally about to come apart in your hands.

When he finishes and you come back up with the most cheeky smile on your lips, Nafla groans as he pulls you in for another kiss, “God, I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

Fuck, so do you. So bad. Hearing him say that right to your face, you really wish you had prepared a few condoms of your own. But this dress doesn’t have the storage capacity for that and it’s not like you were planning to get freaky tonight anyway. How the fuck were you supposed to know Nafla was going to come right up to you and practically beg to get in your pants tonight?? Of all nights.

“Mm, I know the feeling.” You manage to say between more kisses.

“You’re so good with your mouth.” He grunts, “I bet you sound real cute when you scream too.”

A shudder rolls down your back, and you have to catch your breath in a few dizzy chuckles, “Yeah, if you can make me.”

“Oh, believe me, I want to.” His voice is gravelly as he traces his lips up your neck back to your ear, “You sure you don’t wanna come back with me tonight?”

You whine, letting your head fall back against the wall, “I do. So bad. But I can’t leave my friend on her own. Not tonight.” You regrettably shake your head, then comb your fingertips through his hair that’s faded with color. “Too bad, I could’ve been the best lay of your life.”

Nafla breaks out in laughter at your nonchalant confidence and comes in to kiss you again. This time, you can feel a shift in his mood, like his kiss is full of newfound conviction, “Fuck it,” he breathes, taking out his phone from his pocket, “Come meet me tomorrow night.”

“What?” You’re confused and dumbfounded, because it sounds like your dreams may still come true.

“You better prove to me that you deserve that title,” he leans in to press his forehead to yours, and you both laugh.

You feel like you should expect to wake up from your dream soon, since the best part is clearly coming up — that’s when you’re usually rudely awakened during a fantastic dream. But Nafla’s touch just feels too real, too sweet, too feasible to be imagined. You’ve never felt like this when touched by someone before.

And when he lets you go for the night to return to your friend, you still can’t believe what just happened to you. You dance with her for the rest of the night like nothing out of the ordinary happened to you and when you go home, you check your phone again to confirm it. Yes, Nafla’s contact info is actually there, and the MKIT RAIN rapper actually did send you a private message and a location on where to meet him tomorrow night.

It’s unreal. Completely unbelievable.

He sent a follow up text earlier in the day to bring a swimsuit (with a winky face) so obviously you spent the entire day swimsuit shopping after you woke up from your night out. There’s technically nothing wrong with your plain two-piece — it looks rather good on you — but if Nafla was going to see you in it, you’d like to know if there are better options for you.

After several hours going all over the city in search of something impressive, yet still you, you found a simple, but stylish bikini set. The design made it a little provocative, but it otherwise covered everything it needed to cover, and stably at that. You were quite happy with your choice and you honestly couldn’t stop staring at yourself in the mirror for a good half hour before you finally started getting ready to leave.

And now you’ve shown up to the address in a little black dress since you realized you knew nothing else about what to expect and you can’t go wrong with a universal look. Though now that you’ve shown up to this grand hotel building, you’re starting to get nervous. When you reach the 35th floor like Nafla said in his text, you follow the signs that point to the rooftop bar and pool lounge. And you’re stopped by an usher.

Or receptionist? Or guard?? He didn’t tell you this was an invitation exclusive event!! You are clearly not part of any important lists!!!

When the usher asks for your name, you nervously tell them you were invited by Nafla and show them the text messages he sent you as reference or evidence. Whichever works. “Okay, I’ll just write you down as part of MKIT RAIN’s party then. They’re not here yet, but you can come in first.”

“Thanks…” you say as you slowly trudge into the enormous rooftop space.

The place is bumping . There’s a DJ, drinks and food platters everywhere, people dressed in party casual or provocative swimwear, and what’s tripping you up the most is that… there are famous people everywhere . You know almost all of these guests!! Not personally, but through your computer screen, your music library, your social media, everything that connects you to your favorite artists in Korea… and for some reason, they’ve all congregated here tonight… in one place…

And you were invited…

So when that receptionist said she’d add you under MKIT RAIN’s party, that must’ve meant everyone from all the other labels are here too?? Fucking unbelievable. Suran and Hoody are talking over drinks by the pool, at least three of the MBA guys are crowding the bar, DJ Pumkin is joining the current DJ in prep to transition to his set — and you now realize that the current DJ was actually Primary. All of these amazing people are here, and there’s a number of other individuals you don’t recognize or know but are all intimidatingly attractive, and you’re beginning to feel less and less like you’re supposed to be here.

So obviously the first thing you do is make straight for the bar and order a double shot of vodka and orange. You offer up your card but the bartender says all the drinks are paid for tonight. “Oh. Thank you.”

“The bar’s always free during an event like this. You new or something?” A voice chuckles beside you, and you almost spit out your vodka when you turn to see Jay Park speaking to you.

“Holy fucking shit.” You curse, wiping at the droplet that escaped the corner of your mouth. “Jay Park?”

“Yeah.” He gives you a weird smile, like it’s obvious, “So you are new?”

“Clearly.” You take another gulp of your drink, “I was uh… invited by someone. But I didn’t realize it was gonna be such a big event. I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually allowed to be here.”

“Oh, well if you’re here with a friend, then you’re clearly welcome. Who you here with?” Jay Park is asking you questions and trying to make you feel welcome. Are the gods giving you a little too much right now? Is there a catch?

“N-Nafla…” you don’t know if you should be name-dropping like that, but what else are you supposed to do? You’re not affiliated with anyone else — that is, if you can even consider what you assumed was a booty call an affiliation with the guy.

“Nice! I don’t think those guys are here yet, but feel free to hang around and mingle. You don’t gotta be too nervous.” Jay reassures you and raises his glass for you to clink with him.

You smile appreciatively and tap your drink against his before taking another swig. In a normal situation, if the Jay Park appeared before you, you would attack him with a slew of questions and professions of love as a fan, but you can’t really do that here on a rooftop full of celebrities and their friends. It would take the whole night and you’d look idiotic, maybe to the point of getting kicked out.

That is the last thing you want, especially when you haven’t even seen Nafla yet tonight. This has really turned into a lot more than a lucky lay with your favorite rapper. Jay’s chatter with his other friends fades into background noise as you continue to scope the area for a head of a faded red hair, and simultaneously wonder how you’re supposed to approach anyone here when you don’t know a single soul personally.

However, the answer comes to you suddenly when one of your favorite mainstream hip hop songs starts playing — you’ll just do it like you do at the club, by dancing. “I like this song.” You announce to no one in particular. Quickly, you finish your drink and set it back on the counter before swinging around in your chair to approach the small dance floor area surrounding the DJ booth with a beat to your step.

The crowd is rather small compared to the club even on a slow night, but it’s enough to let you blend in as you start moving your hips and limbs in casual tandem with the song Primary is playing. You don’t know a lot of the faces in this crowd, so you’re guessing a lot of the girls here may be dates or close friends or staff also invited to join the party. They all seem perfectly capable of having a good time, at least.

Pretty soon, you’re starting to feel the groove mix in with the starting waves of the vodka, and you dance with slightly less inhibitions than you started with. Some of the other dancers are even encouraging you and letting you join in. They even start a little dance circle in the middle of the floor to let everyone show off a bit, and obviously you can’t disappoint, so you throw out a few of your better moves to get some loud encouragement. It works, and you’re dancing along like it’s just another night out — only with a super higher end crowd.

As it turns out, it’s as easy to attract famous guys as it is to attract regular guys at the club when you know how to dance a little and dress up nicely. They just come to you, trying to dance with you, offering you drinks, asking your name, the works. You’re friendly to them all — and the girls too — though you do your best to keep to yourself when guys look like they’re seriously trying to approach you.

Which is fucking hard, because hello?? Some of these guys you actually listen to on the daily on your commutes to work and for your workout playlists!!! Temptation is everywhere tonight, especially when it’s just coming right up to you, but you’re here for one man and one man only. No amount of liquor is going to make you forget that tonight.

Though you are caught by surprise when someone’s drink ends up splashing across the entire front of your dress. There was some sort of accident that sent the drink owner tumbling back and spilling his sangria all over you. Now there’s a commotion over you and the guy who spilled the drink on you is apologizing profusely. However, you’re far gone enough to reply with a calm laugh, which seems to surprise the people around you a bit. “It’s cool, I’m fine. But uh…” You look around, wondering what the hell you’re gonna do now in a wet dress.

Until your eyes land on the pool. “I’m just gonna…” You point your thumb over to the pool that overlooks the edge of the hotel roof, “wash it off, I guess.”

“Uh, yeah. For sure…” The guy replies. He’s in the middle of offering to have your dress replaced but stops mid-sentence when you start unzipping the garment by a lounge chair.

When you pull the whole thing off of your shoulders and drag it down to step out of it to lay on the back of the lounge chair, you hear a few cheers and whistles. “Guess you were prepared, at least.” Someone comments. Was that a fucking producer whose beats you hear on the regular??

You just laugh with a shrug before stepping towards the pool. Looking down at your now bikini-clad body, you see some of the red wine still trailing down your skin as you take the few steps up to get into the long, somewhat narrow pool. Some of it ended up in your hair too, it seems.

There is a small number of people in the pool too, but it looks like they’re all chatting with each other in their groups of friends, so you kind of just wade around and let the pool water wash away the remnants of the sangria from your skin. You also take a few moments to relish in the absolutely gorgeous view of the city from here. The question keeps coming back to attack you: are you really here right now?

Is any of this real? How did you end up in a place where all these incredible artists are just here to chill with their own friends? Was Nafla right in his head last night when he invited you to come here? Gosh, you can’t even begin to wonder how you’ll get through the rest of this night.

While you’re sinking into your thoughts, you kind of just let your head submerge under the water too. Might as well get the wine out of your hair as well, and your makeup is waterproofed enough to withstand a short submersion. Right when you come up for air though, you hear a voice nearby that you’ve been listening for all night.

Turning around, you spot him, right by the other lounge chairs near the dance floor, “Nafla!” The brightest, dopiest smile stretches across your face. You must look way too eager. And that’s when you remember you must also look like a wet seal or something right now since you just popped out of the pool.

He calls your name back in response, obviously surprised to see where you came from. “Hey,” you try to dial down the smile a few watts as you approach the edge of the pool. There’s a marble step used as a seat in the way though, so you just stand on it with your knees and let your upper torso emerge from the pool as well as you lean your hands and forearms on the edge. Arching forward as if it’ll get you closer to hear him when it’s really just your own eagerness jumping out, you take a breath to calm yourself, “I uh… I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, this is the guy you’ve been waiting for all night?” One of the guys who was on the dance floor with you earlier and was probably having a conversation with Nafla and his friends at first (you try to ignore the fact that several of the MKIT RAIN members are standing right here in front of you too, on top of all the other excitement), pats him on the back. “Lucky you, dude. She really knows how to dance.” He praises.

“Ah…” You shyly chuckle back, running a hand down your wet hair.

“Yeah, I know.” Nafla agrees with a playful, yet somewhat secretive smile. “But you decided to take a dip instead of kicking it on the dance floor?”

“Oh, uh, my dress… it got wet. So I just came in to clean the wine off.”

“Oh my god, yeah dude. You should’ve seen it! Junho was trying to pull that move, you know that one? And then—“ The guy from the dance floor explains the encounter for you, so at least you have a witness instead of sounding stupid that you now no longer have clean clothes for the evening.

“Ah, that sucks. Well, you can use one of the hotel robes or something later, it’s probably not a big deal.” Nafla suggests, “Unless you wanted to keep swimming?”

“No, no. It’s cool. I— I want to join you.” You wonder if it’s too bold of a statement to make, but what else can you say when you mainly came here on the pretense of fucking him tonight?

He doesn’t seem to take any offense to it though as you step out of the pool. You try to wring out as much water as you can from your hair and skin before dance floor guy comes up and offers you a towel. “Thank you.” You smile gratefully at him as you carefully dab at your face as not to smear the makeup.

“No problem.” He smiles back.

“Hey, so you wanna go grab another drink first?” Nafla pipes up and takes back your attention.

“Yeah, definitely.” You nod, wrapping the towel around yourself before following Nafla back to the bar. You let him order something for you, and he grabs both drinks before leading you to the cushioned lounge chair area again. You both sit on the same side of the same chair in view of the dance floor and the pool and a lot of the rest of the party, but it’s not too loud here so you can talk without problems.

“Looks like you’re popular wherever you go.” He comments jokingly as he hands you your drink.

“You think so?” You smile behind your cup as you take a sip. It’s sweet, but strong. A nice choice.

“Yeah, maybe I should've gotten here earlier.” He leans back on his hands but keeps his eyes on you, “Then I could’ve kept you to myself. Now everyone’s interested in you.”

“As if, I’ve been here for like, half an hour.” You roll your eyes and set down your drink between you two on the chair.

“Half an hour? On the dance floor?” Nafla says with an incredulous smile, “It’s a wonder you haven’t already run off with some other dude.”

“You know what, that wouldn’t even be a problem if you didn’t just throw me to the wolves like this.” You joke, “What did you expect me to do at this huge ass party full of chart toppers and girls who look like they belong in hip hop music videos? I’m so out of place!”

“Yeah right, you could be in any music video and outshine anyone there.” Nafla’s flirty tone is back, which you kind of love but still can’t believe. “You were doing just fine before I got here.”

“Shut up.” You hide behind another sip of your drink, “And it’s about time you came. I didn’t come here for just anybody.”

“Oh yeah?” He cocks his eyebrows at you with a smirk, “Who is it that you came for?”

You almost roll your eyes again at that one, but before you can come up with a witty answer, you’re joined by a few guests. All of whom happen to be amazingly talented and have you frozen in your seat from being star struck.

“What’s up, Fla~”

“Yooo.”

“Wassuuupp y’all.”

Nafla groans beside you, but he welcomes his friends to the lounge chairs beside you guys anyway. You’re trying to keep your breathing under control and your giant smile bitten down in your jaw. That is fucking Loopy, Kid Milli, and Young West sitting across from you. And mother fucking Bloo took up the last bit of space on your lounge chair beside Nafla.

For a minute or so, the boys all talk amongst each other as if you’re not there, and you don’t even realize it because you’re staring at them in awe, just listening to all these famous artists having a regular conversation like some sort of miracle unfolding before you. Until someone brings you up, that is. So Nafla introduces you by name, “We just met yesterday.”

“Hi.” You wave awkwardly.

Some of them say hi back, but they don’t really pry into the specifics of why Nafla invited you here despite only having met you yesterday. They instead decide to ask you questions about yourself, which is relatively painless. “Do you go to school or work in Seoul or something?”

“No, actually I’m just here on vacation.” You go on to explain that you have a full time job in your home country, and that you’re leaving in a couple of days. “But I have a few friends who live here, so I’m visiting them and going out and having fun with them. Never would I have imagined I’d get to meet freaking Nafla and everyone else here.”

A few laughs and other topics go by and then Bloo asks, “So is dancing part of your job too? Because I saw you at first and you really know how to move.”

“Actually,” you laugh, “I do have a part time job as a dance instructor at the gym. I used to dance a bit in college so the gym’s a good way to help me keep up with it. Though the club helps too.”

“Wow, it’s no wonder you’re so good.” A few boys coo in awe of you, though it honestly sounds a lot cooler than it actually is to live your day-to-day life.

As the conversation goes on, the strong need to blurt out your love as a fan to each and every one of them dies down with how naturally the talking and laughing flows. But you kind of break the nice pace for yourself when you let out a sharp gasp at the sight of someone.

“What is it?” Nafla asks, and in your rush of excitement, you end up slapping your hand on his thigh in order to get a hold of his hand.

“Is that freaking Beenzino over there??”

“Oh, yeah, it is. Fresh out of the army.” Loopy turns around to confirm that it is indeed the man who took over your mind during your college years.

“Okay, I think I might actually die in a minute.” You stare Nafla in the eye with a serious expression, “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying really hard to keep cool while I’m around you guys and not creep you out, but my facade is crumbling now because I have liked that guy since I was in high school.”

You turn away from them to take a deep gulp of your drink and attempt to suppress your excitement further, but it’s getting real hard now. Beenzino is here, and he’s fucking tall. And more handsome than pictures can even try to portray.

“Wow, looks like Fla’s got some competition now.” Loopy chuckles before he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh my god, no. I love him and Stephanie together. They’re the cutest.” You wave off that comment, “But still, I’ve only ever seen him in concert. This is fucking unreal. This whole thing is unreal. The fact that I’m talking to you guys right now is unreal. I’m surprised I haven’t puked.”

You’re babbling. All of the nerves and excitement are slowly starting to trickle out and you need to find a way to cap it before Nafla and the others get too put off. “Do you wanna talk to him?” Nafla offers.

“No.” You scoff as if it’s obvious, “Do you think I’m capable of talking without freaking out right now?”

“Hey, hyung! Beenzino-hyung!” Bloo calls out and waves his hand to get the rapper’s attention.

“Oh my god.” You breathe.

“Hyung, come here for a minute.” Bloo waves him over, and dear lord, he’s actually approaching. Fuck.

“Bloo, you turd ball!” You don’t know why you said that, but anything else would’ve been too serious. “I’m not ready for this.”

“It’s cool,” Nafla laughs, “Just say hi and that you’re a fan. Like whatever you’d say if you met him on the street.” He shrugs.

“Hey, guys.” Beenzino comes over and greets everyone with a catch of the hand and chest bump in the way he does. “What’s up?”

“So, our friend here,” Bloo introduces you, “really likes you, and she really wanted us to ask you to come here so she could talk to you.”

Oh. My. God.

That is mortifying. You give Bloo an incredulous and offended look, but he just smiles and waves at you to greet your idol of young adulthood. You look to Nafla for a last desperate call for help, but he just smiles at you. Guess you have no choice.

Taking a deep breath, you turn and stand to greet the Beenzino himself, “Hi, I’m such a big fan.” You give him your name, your hometown and country, and tell him how long you’ve been following him for.

“Wow, thanks for all the love. I’ve actually been to your country before, it’s a really beautiful place.” He says.

“Oh, thank you.” You laugh nervously, “Well, we’re always excited to see you perform, so… Yeah, I can’t wait to go to another concert of yours. They’re always so fun.”

He asks you to elaborate and you go on to mention the concerts and festivals you’ve been to see him in the past several years, and he’s thoroughly impressed and/or creeped out. You can’t tell because you’re worrying about talking too much or quickly now. When he thanks you again, you decide to go out on a limb and ask, “Can I… Can I have a hug?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” He holds his arms out for you and you accidentally let out a small squeal before falling into his strong embrace. Wow, you are really hugging the man of all your college dreams right now. While on a night call with the man of you current dreams. Funny how life works out.

“Thank you,” you say breathlessly as you pull away.

“No problem, always grateful for the love and support. Here, why don’t we take a picture together?”

“Really??” Your eyes must be sparkling right now, and you snap your head back to look at the other guys who have just been watching your little exchange if they weren’t preoccupied with their phones or something.

“Here, I’ll take it.” Bloo offers, standing up and holding his phone up to snap the picture.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” You move in to get closer to Beenzino to take the photo, before realizing you’re still wearing a towel around your body. “Wait, hold on.” You pull the towel off and throw it onto the back of the lounge chair before scooting in to wrap your arm around the rapper’s waist while he puts his arm around your shoulders.

“One, two, three.” Bloo counts. My god, your smile might take over your whole face in this photo. You want to curse and thank him for calling him over for you.

When the picture is taken and Beenzino takes his leave, you take your seat again next to Nafla and without thinking, bury your face into his neck as you take a calming breath. “Oh my god, I can’t even breathe…”

“Wow, your face is really warm.” Nafla mentions, bringing a hand up to stroke at your cheek.

“Hey, congrats though!” Bloo announces, “You got a pic with Beenzino-hyung. I’ll send this to Fla to send to you later.”

“I can’t believe you just did that to me.” You raise your head to strike Bloo with an accusing glare, “But thank you.” You relent with a sigh and take another gulp of your drink.

“You’re welcome.” He says proudly.

“Oh my god,” you close your eyes briefly before turning to Nafla again, “There’s too many amazing people here, I’m not cut out for this. I’m gonna start screaming any minute now.”

“Save it, I’ll take care of that later.” Nafla says with a hand on your thigh, which is suddenly a lot warmer on your skin now that the towel is off. It slips out of his mouth so casually that you can’t do anything but stare at him, in complete awe. And something else. Something else that stirs in your body and between your legs. How did that smooth and curt comment suddenly flip a switch in you?

The other guys seem as dumbstruck as you are, but it only takes them a second to bounce back and start shouting at Nafla about being a dog or being vulgar or whatever. You, however, are still staring until his playful little chuckle breaks you, and you burst into giggles in his neck.

After a few chuckles, you lean up to whisper into his ear, “Can I kiss you right now?”

You don’t expect to feel so relieved when he replies with a casual but throaty, “Yeah,” before leaning in kiss you first. It’s a long one, tangled with teasing nips and pressure play, and you didn’t realize how much you needed this. Amidst all this excitement, and worrying about keeping your cool, trying to keep a conversation going with all these celebrities you admire but don’t actually know, you had almost forgotten why you were really here.

“Okay, guess that’s our cue.”

“Yeah. Later, guys.”

“You have fun now, kids.”

You pull away from Nafla when you hear the guys leaving, but you don’t come apart without a puckered smacking sound. It’s embarrassing, but you do feel obligated to at least say goodbye to his friends who were nice enough to talk to you. “Oh, okay. Bye! It was nice meeting you.”

Nafla exchanges a few other words with the guys about who knows what, but when they step away his attention right back on you. He watches you stare at him, letting your eyes roam all over his face with a curious pucker in your lips. But eventually he breaks into a gentle laugh again, calling you cute before leaning in to kiss you once more.

This time, the kiss lasts for quite a while. You have no idea how much time passes, but you know it’s been awhile because when you finally pull away and open your eyes again, they’re a bit sensitive to the lights outside. Or maybe it was just Nafla making you dizzy with his mouth. You’re impressed that the kissing managed to stay rather chaste — or chaste as you could keep it in public.

Both your hair and his are a bit mussed from having each other’s hands in it, your faces are flushed, and obviously both your lips have a visible swell to them. Nafla shows an impressive self-restraint similar to what he had at the club last night; he didn’t put his hands anywhere scandalous, but he did pull your thighs onto his lap. If you just adjusted your sitting position a bit, you would be sitting right on him. And god, you kind of really want to. Would that be too much?

“Do you have to stay long?” You ask in a rather weak voice.

“Mm, no. Not really.” He kisses you again, “It’s just a party for a Korean holiday, but I’m just surprised that so many people were able to make it.”

“Do you want to stay and talk to your friends?” You offer, “It must be rare to have everyone together like this. You should catch up with people.”

“And what? Leave you alone to get swept up by all these other guys?” He says playfully, hugging you closer by your waist.

You giggle at the slight possessiveness, absolutely loving it, “I’ll just go dance. Or swim. Or eat. Whatever, there’s a ton of things for me to do here. I’ll be fine. You should enjoy yourself too. Talk to your friends.”

“You sure?” He lowers his chin as he continues looking at you.

“Yeah, and tell you what; if you wanna check on me, just bring me over for a drink.”

“Well, alright. If you’re cool with it.” He sets you down on your feet and escorts you back to the bar first since you said you wanted more liquor. But he doesn’t leave without making a show of covering your shoulders with his jacket and whispering into your ear in front of the others, “Just come find me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” You thank him and he’s off before he can catch you taking a subtle whiff at his collar. It smells good.

You make light conversation with the bartender and get his story as you nurse your drink, but eventually, others begin to start up a conversation with you as well. You must be a topic of interest since you’ve been prancing around on Nafla’s arm and unabashedly making out with him by the poolside so far. So for the next hour, you introduce yourself however many times to so many different people; some of whom you know of, and some of whom you don’t.

By the time you’re down to your third drink since you got to the bar, you’re kind of high on liquor and clout. You have talked to more famous people in the past hour than you’ve ever encountered in your entire life, including the ones you’ve paid to see live. The mixed drinks in your body are making you giggly and the excitement of getting to talk to your favorite singers and rappers and producers is making you light-headed. So you turn down the next drink and conversation in favor of returning to the dance floor.

Slipping your arms into the sleeves of Nafla’s jacket, you relish how cool it must make you look — even though you’re wearing nothing by a bikini underneath. But there are other people dancing in swimwear and without shoes, so you probably don’t have to care. And you feel less and less obligated to when a great song comes up and you just ebb into the rest of the crowd.

You recognize some people here, or at least you think you do, because they sure recognize you. A few of them are welcoming you with shouts and gestures to dance with them, so you somehow manage to seamlessly join in with their group. Though if anyone asked you what their names were, you cannot for the life of you list even one of them. Which is freaking ridiculous because you know their voices and faces from your playlists and their music videos.

But then again, you’re here to dance, not think. So that is exactly what you do in an attempt to sober up even a little bit. People come and go to drink, smoke, eat, go to the bathroom, or whatever it is they go to do, but the atmosphere remains lively. This is probably going to be the party of your lifetime, the one you’ll remember forever and talk about over and over until your friends hate you for it.

You almost don’t want Nafla to pull you aside and take you back to his room and fuck you all night. Almost.

When he does pull you to the side to rest, you realize this is your first break in what must be… hours? Who knows. “Wow, you really know how to go off on that floor.”

“You think so?” You giggle, accepting the water he hands you and gulping it down without stopping for air.

“Do you not get tired? I’ve been watching you for a little while now.”

“When I go out, I go out all night.” You sweep your hand through the air as if to seal your proclamation. “But don’t worry, I still have energy to play around with you.” You lean in to tease.

“Well good,” he chuckles, “Why don’t we go then?”

“Okay!” You chime, taking his hand and letting him lead you back towards the lounge entrance.

However.

“Wait! Wait.” You tug on Nafla’s hand to stop him in his tracks and drag him back towards the dance floor when you hear your absolute favorite song start up. “After this song. Just this one.”

Nafla feigns an exasperated sigh but follows you with a smile. You don’t bother dragging him into the heart of the crowd, so you just linger on the side of the dance floor. But you’re still revved up on celebrity meetings, countless drinks, Nafla’s affection, and now your motherfucking favorite song in your whole music library.

You bust out your best moves and flirt with your body instead of your words this time. Nafla’s loose, unbuttoned jacket definitely helps you with the playfulness of it all when you let it slide down your shoulders to show off your skin and bikini before letting it slide back onto your arm with another big movement. Come the last chorus of the song, you’re dancing up to him and rolling your body right up into his, front and back, like you’re his own personal stripper or something.

All good things must come to an end, and you’re loathe for your best song to end, but Nafla is giving you a look like he’s ready to throw you onto the floor and have you right here and now. Guess that means you’ve teased him a bit too much, but you can’t help giggling when you readjust his jacket on your shoulders again. He barely lets you get it on right before slinking his arm around your waist and practically pushing you out of the lounge. There are some cheers and whistles behind you, but you’re still high off the evening and your own laughter.

Nafla keeps you hugged to his waist through the duration of the elevator ride and the walk to his hotel room. Your laughter settles along the way and you find yourself calming with every whiff of his cologne when you bring your nose close to his neck.

When the door closes behind you, Nafla chuckles, “Finally got you all to myself.”

“Give me one sec,” you say, making straight for the bed and flopping on to one side of it. You yank the duvet towards your body and roll over twice until you’re completely wrapped up in the blankets like a burrito on the other end of the bed.

Then you scream.

You let out a good, long cry and muffle it into the covers until you let all the excitement of the entire evening meeting all those stars and holding in your utter joy and amazement. You scream and even thrash around on the bed for a good thirty seconds or so before you roll back out of your blanket burrito and sit up.

Tossing your hair out of your face, you give Nafla a neutral look because he is definitely staring at you, “Alright, I’m good. I’m ready to see if you can actually make me scream all on your own.” You tease with a smile as you position yourself cutely on the bed.

Nafla stares for another few seconds before breaking out into laughter, “What the heck was that?”

“I had to get all that excitement out from this evening first!” You sigh as you collapse on your back, “I couldn’t just keep it all bottled up. Besides, it’d have given you a false start and I wouldn’t want that to get to your head.”

“Trust me,” he says as he climbs onto the bed to hover over you. His face is only a couple centimeters from yours, but it feels even closer than it was last night at the club. “I don’t need a head start.”

You can’t help it, you smile. After all that has happened to you tonight, you’re still exactly where you want to be. “Prove it.”

Thankfully, there were enough condoms available to you guys to use the entire time. You are impressed with both of you for going at it as long as you did. And you fucked around in the morning too. God, it was beautiful. It you could have one night never end, it would hands down be this night.

Nafla was quite the cuddler too. You woke up to the warm, inviting sensation of his arms around your waist and the sexy, sleepy groan of his morning voice when you tried to stretch your limbs while in his hold. When he had pulled you in and taken a deep whiff of your neck before rolling his body to lie on top of yours, you had to wonder again if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up yet. And if this would just be the best perpetual dream you’ve ever had.

But it was real. His morning wood was especially real, but you took care of it and thoroughly enjoyed sleepy Nafla for as long as possible before you both got up to shower. And soon, you come across a dilemma.

“Shit, I left all my stuff upstairs last night.” You realize. Your dress, your purse, your phone, your keys, your extra underwear, all of it. All you had to your name right now was the damp bikini from last night. You’re guessing that Nafla would want his jacket back.

“It’s cool, we can go back up and get it. I’m sure they kept it somewhere safe.” Nafla offers, coming up to hug you from behind and place a sleepy kiss on your shoulder. He is playing so unfair right now. How are you not supposed to completely fall in love with him?

He lets you get dressed up in one of the hotel robes before taking you back up to the rooftop lounge receptionist to ask about your forgotten belongings. There’s a bit of back and forth with you having to retrieve them from some other department of the hotel, but you do eventually get it all back; sangria stain and all. Luckily it’s not too visible through the black fabric, but you’ll still need to go through some trouble to get that cleaned later.

Nafla whistles when you slip it back on back in his room, “Wish I coulda seen you walk in with that last night.”

“What? Me popping out of the water half naked wasn’t sexy enough for you?” You chuckle, adjusting the straps and tossing your hair around with your hands in an attempt to make yourself resemble something tidy.

“It’s a tough choice to make.” Nafla says in low, sandy voice you had gotten to know quite well last night. It shakes you up even now, while you’re sore enough to stay in bed for another day.

As reluctant as you are to leave, you know that all great things must come to an end. You do, however, let him walk you downstairs to wait for your cab. Once in the lobby, you both hold off on any more physical contact, in the case that there are any onlookers. Not that it’d be hard to guess what happened between you two anyway, but still better not to fan the flames.

He waits with you outside of the hotel entrance for the taxi to come around, and you’re grateful to spend these last minutes with the boy of your dreams. “Thanks again, for letting me see you again.” You say while you can. “It was undoubtedly the best night of my life.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night for me too.” Nafla smiles back at you, “So I’m glad you came.”

“So am I. You’re the best.” You risk a quick squeeze of his hand as your taxi rolls around, “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.” He lets your touch linger when you let go to step into the car and even closes the door for you!!

It’s only when the hotel is out of sight that you start squealing behind your purse. Your cab driver gives you a look but you don’t care. You literally just spent an entire night with your favorite Korean rapper of all time and he seemed like he had fun!!!! You can’t believe you got to fulfill your dream of being Nafla’s bedwarmer groupie.

Needless to say, you’re on a high for the next week, and you squeal to all of your friends about it, barely sparing a detail. “Has he texted you since then??”

“Well, I texted him telling him I got home safe, and he responded to that but that’s it.” You answer.

“Why didn’t you keep the conversation going??” One of your other friends demands, practically spilling her drink all over the table.

“Come on! He’s famous and he’s busy, and I was obviously just a night of fun.” You roll your eyes, “We said everything we needed to say while I was still there. If he wanted to continue talking, he would have!”

“Yeah, but—“

All kinds of arguments and discussions ensue about how you should go about it since you have his contact information. But you shut down all the opportunities they suggest because when it comes down to it, “I live and work somewhere totally different. What would we even talk about afterwards anyway? There’s no point trying to force it after the fact. It’d just make me look desperate, and I’d like to stay a good memory, thank you very much.”

Of course it didn’t stop at that, but it was the reality of the situation. And you wouldn’t dare to try changing any of it when you were already so grateful for the experience. You won’t ever forget him, or how much fun you had, or how well he treated you, and you’re glad that it came to an end as sweetly as it did.

Or how it was supposed to, at least.

You’ve just finished teaching your weekend dance sessions at the gym when you check your phone to see you’ve gotten some messages from the man you thought you left back in Seoul.

‘Hey. I forgot to send these to you a while back.’

The message is followed by several pictures of you standing beside Beenzino looking like a star struck sewer rat under the horrid lighting of the evening lamps in your bikini and damp hair. But the memories of the entire evening wash over you with a giddy electric current.

‘Omg i look like a wet dog but thanks!! I totally forgot about these’ you text back.

You hesitate with sending a follow up text, wondering if you should ask how he’s doing or mention an update about yourself or something. But eventually, you decide against it and stuff your phone in your pocket before grabbing your stuff to head out to your car.

Once you’re settled in your seat and about to start the car, however, you see that you’ve gotten another reply. You try to settle your trembling heart when you pick up the phone to read the messages.

‘I think they’re cute haha’

‘How’ve you been?’

“Oh my god!!” You squeal to yourself. You’re texting Nafla . Holy fucking shit, how is this even real right now?? Your fingers quickly fly over the screen to type your reply.

You gasp when he responds almost right away, and you follow up with your own response. And it just continues back and forth before you realize you’ve been sitting in your car in the gym parking lot for almost an hour. Your stomach is starting to protest so you order some food delivery, start the car, and make the drive home. You don’t think you’ll be able to focus on cooking tonight.

Somehow, you’re still texting Nafla when your pizza arrives, and when you get out of the shower and get ready for bed, and while you’re lying in bed when you know that you should be asleep already since you have work early tomorrow. But you don’t want the conversation to end. He’s so cute, and funny, and he makes it so easy to talk to him.

Eventually, you do fall asleep and have to follow up with his text in the morning. But luckily, since you didn’t end your conversation with ‘I have to go to bed,’ you’re able to continue talking to him throughout the next day. And the next. And the next. Honestly, you’re surprised that you’re both able to talk to each other for so long without running out of too much to say.

However, he does get busier as the week goes on, and so do you. Your replies become more spaced out while you’re both busy working or doing whatever, and the time difference makes the timing hard too. Until eventually, the conversation comes to a comfortable stop. It’s kind of convenient for you because you suddenly have a new project that you have to put a little more focus on, which you probably wouldn’t be able to if you were shaking in your seat waiting for Nafla — or Nick, as he said you could start addressing him — to reply.

You both kind of leave it at that for a while. You recall he mentioned he had some shows to do, and the schedule lineup on the MKIT RAIN website does make him and his friends look busy. Especially since he’s doing a lot more magazine shoots now, which you also plan to order and add to your collection. It was nice while it lasted, catching up with him. He’s starting to feel more like a friend you met in Korea rather than a rap star who has millions of fans across the world.

Still, you have to remember that he is someone who has many fans in his life. And many people in his life, including girls. You can’t hold your heart out for him just because he’s being friendly after your greatest one night stand in history.

You know this, but you still find it hard to stop thinking about him. And talking about him to your friends. They were excited to hear about your initial encounter, but they’re now on the more practical side and telling you to let him go, since there isn’t a high chance that you’ll get to see him again without going back to South Korea. So you settle into the reality of it, and do your best to let him go and out of your head.

And of course, just when you’re starting to get used to it, that’s when he texts you again. Out of the blue, after weeks of not speaking a word to each other. He sends a picture of a husky that’s hanging out at one of his recent work places.

‘I can’t look at huskies anymore without thinking about you lol’

You chuckle aloud. You had gone on and on about how adorable you found huskies and bombarded him with facts about them and how much you wanted one of your own someday. And now, it seems it’s become a reminder of you for him.

‘How do you think i feel whenever i see anything that has to do with Coca Cola?’ You write back.

And just like that, it starts all over again. You guys talk into the night and the next few days about everything there is to talk about. You update each other on your lives and you start to miss him all over again. The more you talk to him, the more you want to switch gears and get a little flirty, send him a dirty picture or something. But you can’t interrupt this nice flow you two have going. You’re talking like you’re old friends and you won’t ruin this possible budding relationship — whatever it may be — between you because of your libido.

However, the conversation eventually fades out like it did last time, after over a week of texting each other regularly. And you’re back to square one.

Obviously, you rant to your friends about how you feel like you’re being strung along and don’t know what this even is that’s happening between you. “Do you think he’s just keeping in touch with me occasionally so that he’ll have a booty call ready if he ever comes here or something?” You wonder.

“It’s possible. You never know with famous dudes.” Your friend shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.

You reach over to steal one of her fries before continuing, “Should I keep talking to him? I really like him, but I doubt that anything practical or serious will come out of this.”

“Well, if you’re trying to look for something serious, then I’d say yeah, stop talking to him. But if you’re willing to keep messing around for a while, then just keep talking to him. See where it goes — if it ever goes anywhere, that is.”

You groan, tempted to drown into your own salad, “We haven’t talked in almost two months. Should I text first this time?”

“If you want to.” She shrugs.

“Thanks, so helpful.” You deadpan.

Your friend smiles back cheekily, popping another fry into her mouth, “You’re welcome.”

You text him first. Not out of desperation, but simply because you could use another opinion from someone who’s probably attended way more formal events than you have. A company banquet is coming up, and you’re helping host the event, so you can’t just show up in a regular old closet gown.

So you send Nafla three mirror selfies of the different dresses and ask him which one is most appropriate for a company holiday party. Your heart is pounding as you wait for the response, but luckily you’re not left to tremble for too long, because he responds within the hour.

And just like that, conversation picks up as usual, for days. This time, it almost lasts for three weeks, even with the laggy responses. By that time, your holiday party has happened and the new year is coming up. Unfortunately, you don’t get to share your happy new year texts with him because your conversation dies out just a little after Christmas, when Nafla is getting busy with all the holiday hip hop concerts. A shame.

So you sulk a little throughout the beginning of the year, until Nafla texts you again some time after Valentine’s Day. It’s the usual pattern again, but this time, about a week into the new conversation, he says the wildest thing you’ve ever heard.

‘I’ve got a couple of free days coming up. I was thinking of coming to visit your city’

Your heart stops when you read that text. You stare at it in complete shock, unable to move your fingers in a response before a follow up message appears:

‘Wanna be my guide?’

You scream into your living room, jumping around the room like you’ve just won the lottery. You’re probably bothering or worrying the neighbors, but who the fuck cares?? Nafla might be coming to visit you!!!!! You may get to see him again!!!!! Holy fucking shit!!!!!!!

Doing your best to tone down the exclamation points in your response, you answer that you would absolutely love to act as his guide and welcome him to your city. And for the next couple weeks, you busy yourself with organizing an itinerary on what to do and where to go with your favorite rapper, who’s flying into your country, your city, to see you .

Okay, there’s no guarantee that he’s actually only here to see you. Maybe he actually just wanted some time to travel on his own and explore a new place, and he wanted to go somewhere that he would have a trusted guide to bring him around. But come on, what other reason would he choose here of all places to go if not for you?

You try not to let it get to your head, but you are way too fucking excited to see him. Your friends are starting to get concerned for you.

“I can’t believe a famous Korean rapper is coming here to see you. If he’s not into you, then I’m gonna start drinking goat milk instead of water.” One friend says.

“Oh my god, are you going to stay with him while he’s here??” Another asks.

“And are you gonna let him in your pants again?” Another chuckles.

“Oh my god!” You shout, “Shut up. I’m playing it cool for now. I’ll take him to whatever hotel he wants to stay at, but I can’t assume that I’m gonna be with him the entire time.” You say logically.

They stare at you, waiting for you to follow up. So you break, “But I really do hope that he slams my guts again.”

All of you scream together and you just continue drown in your own excitement to see him again. You hope you can get it together by the time he actually arrives.

#nafla x reader #nicholas choi x reader #nafla #nicholas choi #mkit rain #khiphop scenario #yes i am aware that i have already used the meeting at the club premise but i like it #it's hard to write him in character tho which is why i made it so reader-centric #nutfla #mine #nafla scenario

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xofanfics · 8 years ago

Text

Guilty - Part 6

Genre: Angst, smut

Word Count: 2,169 words

Pairing: Reader x Baekhyun / Reader x Kai

Summary: *REQUESTED* You find yourself getting more and more frustrated with Kai as he keeps hanging out with his ex-girlfriend, Krystal, against your wishes. Your solution? Hang out with Baekhyun instead.

You were on your way out when your phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw that it was Kai. The two of you hadn’t spoken since Sunday night. He’d texted you a few times, but you didn’t feel like talking so you didn’t write him back.

You had spent Monday night with Baekhyun and three days had passed. He called you every night since then. He asked you how you were, if you ate, what you did that day. All sorts of things, things that Kai didn't ask you about.

“Hello?” you answered.

He sighed on the other end. You could hear the hurt. “Why won’t you text me back?”

“I’ll just talk to you when you get back tomorrow…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I want us to be able to get past this…”

You spotted Baekhyun outside of your building. Not noticing you on the phone, he called your name out loud, waving. “Y/N!”

“Is that...Baekhyun?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner with some friends.”

“Will you call me back later?”

“Yeah,” you said, knowing that you probably wouldn’t. You didn't feel like talking, honestly. You'd deal with him when he got back tomorrow. You were more concerned about Baekhyun right now.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too…” you whispered.

Then you hung up, feeling guilty. Did you love him? Or were you just saying that? Did you love him if you’d been sneaking around with Baekhyun while he was gone?

Baekhyun reached out for your hand and you let him take it, his hand warm in yours. What you'd said the other night didn't apply. You'd said that you wouldn't have sex anymore, but that didn't mean that you couldn't hold his hand. You enjoyed Baekhyun’s company and you wanted to keep spending time with him.

You’d be completely okay if Kai didn’t come back this weekend. If he called back right now saying that he had to stay in Japan for an extra week, you’d be okay with it. You wouldn’t tell him, but you’d be thrilled. It would mean that you would have more time to spend with Baekhyun.

“How was your day?” he asked, planting a kiss on your lips. “Did you finish your paper?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. It's due tonight. I just want to edit it.”

He smiled warmly at you. “Want me to help you?”

“I'd like that…”

You started walking with him. He told you that he wanted to take you to get something nice for dinner, but he didn't tell you where he was taking you. He insisted that it was a surprise and wouldn’t tell you no matter what.

During the car ride, he asked, “So what did your sister say when I left? I’ve been meaning to ask…”

You sighed, remembering what had happened:

Your sister leaned against the counter as the front door shut. She raised her eyebrow at you, curious as ever. Of course she would be curious. A guy that wasn’t your boyfriend just walked out of your bedroom, after all. You supposed it would’ve been different story had he been sleeping on the couch. You could’ve just told her that he had too much to drink at dinner or something.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Baekhyun,” you answered, joining her in the kitchen to get a glass of water.

She nodded. “You don’t think breaking up with Kai was harsh? Just over that little argument?”

“I didn’t break up with him…”

Your sister furrowed her eyebrows. This kind of behavior was out of character for you. You had never ever in your life considered cheating on any of your boyfriends. You hadn’t even come close to cheating.

“So what’s going on?”

You sighed. You could tell your sister. That wasn’t the issue, but it was the first person you told. But you couldn’t not tell her. It would feel better for you if you got it off of your chest.

“We’ve slept together,” you told her. “The first time it happened, we were drunk. It wasn’t supposed to happen again, but it did. I don’t know what to do…”

Your sister said, “Well, you have to end it with one of them…before someone gets hurt. That’s what I think you should do. But, obviously, you don’t have to take my advice.”

That’s what your sister told you. And that’s what you told Baekhyun, minus the part about ending it with one of them. You thought about it hard after she left for work, but you still didn’t know what to do. You knew that ending it with Baekhyun would be your best bet but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to stop hanging out with him so frequently. You didn’t want to stop having sex with him. Ending it with Kai might be a good choice, too, but it would be weird. He’d want to know why but would you be able to lie? He and Baekhyun were friends. Obviously you couldn’t be together after breaking up with Kai. That would be the ultimate betrayal. But would it be any different than him catching you cheating? What would hurt more—him catching you and Baekhyun together or watching you and Baekhyun date after breaking up?

You knew that you had to do something. You knew that you couldn’t keep doing this, but you would worry about it later. When Kai came home, you’d worry about it then. Tomorrow, you’d figure it all out.

You watched as Baekhyun scrolled through your essay. He always used to help you with yours before he graduated. Thankfully, he was a good writer. He even made some money helping people with their essays during his undergrad years.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he read. He was wearing his glasses. He looked sexy in them, like a hot professor or something. He was still wearing his work clothes, in his pale blue blouse and black pants that hugged his hips and loosened tie.

You’d just gotten out of the shower; Baekhyun had asked you to spend the night with him and, of course, you agreed. You only had a couple more nights to be able to do this and you had no intentions of wasting them. You put on your pajamas and sat next to him, your legs dangling off of the bed.

“It’s good,” Baekhyun started. He pointed to the screen. “I would just cut this part out. And you forgot a citation here...”

“Thank you,” you said. “You’re the best.”

“Perks of having a degree in English…” He shot you that million dollar smile before handing you your laptop. “I’m going to shower while you make those corrections okay?”

While he was in the shower, you made your corrections. But all you could think about was Baekhyun’s naked body under the shower water. You wished you’d taken your shower with him. You wished that you’d been under the water together, all wet and soapy, your naked bodies pressed against each other.

You know that you’d said that last time was the last time but you didn’t want it to be over. You wanted to keep having sex with him, again and again and again. Having sex with Baekhyun had made you, in a way, insatiable. But you wanted more than just that. You wanted to spend time with him, whenever and doing whatever you could. You just wanted to be in his presence, somehow, someway.

You could feel Baekhyun shifting in bed next to you; You’d laid down together about an hour ago but neither of you were asleep. It was almost one in the morning. The room was dark and your eyes were shut. You could hear the rain against the window. It had started raining shortly after the two of you got back from dinner.

“Y/N?” he called, suddenly.

“Yeah?”

He rolled over on his side to face you. He rested his head in his hand, leaning on his elbow. “I can’t get you out of my head, Y/N…”

You rolled over, opening your eyes for the first time in what seemed like hours. You faced him, your eyes focusing on his face.

He continued. “I think about you all the time, Y/N... Not just about your body. It’s just...everything. I wanna make you happy.”

“I am happy,” you said. It was true. Despite the sticky situationship the two of you happened to be in, you were happy. He’d been making you happy all week while Kai was gone. It made you question whether or not you’d been happy with Kai before that first night you spent with Baekhyun. Had you not known the full extent of your happiness.

He kissed your forehead and you curled up closer to him, your hand on his chest as it rose and fell. “I’m glad I can make you happy. I just wish I could make you happy for real.” He chuckled to himself. “If only I’d realized how perfect you were sooner. I would’ve taken you out for dates, taken you on trips…”

You wished that he’d noticed you first, too. Before he graduated, you’d had plenty of opportunities to make things happen. All those late nights at the library studying… All those mornings he helped you edit your papers before class. Those times you went to Ria’s house on a Saturday night and everyone fell asleep on the movie. You could’ve done so much, yet you hadn’t. Unfortunately, things ended up like this.

“I think I’m starting to fall in love with you,” he confessed.

“I think I am too,” you admitted. Any time you saw or even thought about Baekhyun, you got butterflies in your stomach. Any time he touched you, you got chills.

Baekhyun ran his fingers across your arm. “Baby,” he said, “all we’ve been doing is fucking.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun didn’t respond. Instead, he just kissed you. He didn’t kiss you hungrily; he kissed you with passion this time. This was a different side of Baekhyun that you hadn’t seen before. Was he serious about falling in love with you? Baekhyun wasn’t the kind of guy to lie. Him falling in love with you would just make this decision a whole lot harder.

“I want to make love to you, Y/N…”

“We can’t, Baekhyun. We have to stop this. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Tell me you don’t want to,” he whispered, looking you in your eyes, searching them. “Tell me you don’t want me to make love to you and I’ll drop it…”

You bit your lip. You didn’t open your mouth. If you did, a lie would leave from your lips. You did want to. This was the last night that you could do this before Kai came back to Seoul tomorrow. This was the last opportunity before things got complicated.

So you found yourself kissing Baekhyun and straddling him. And taking his shirt off while he squeezed your breasts before pulling your shirt over your head. He took your nipples in his mouth, gently flicking his tongue across them. His lips made their way to your neck, sucking on it.

Before you knew it, Baekhyun was between your legs sucking on your wet folds. He flicked his tongue across your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You let out a moan as your back arched. He took care of you, wrapping his arms around your thighs as you squirmed.

When you were ready, he pushed inside of you. He kissed you with each thrust, on your lips, on your neck and on your jaw. He wasn’t just fucking you this time; he was making love to you. Each thrust was deep and slow, with calculated movements. He knew exactly where you needed it.

You didn’t speak words; there were just the sounds of moaning and heavy breathing that filled Baekhyun’s bedroom.

At some point, you got on top of him. You ground your hips into his slowly. And Baekhyun watched you with parted lips as you tugged at yours with your teeth. You felt every inch of him inside you as he held you by your hips, pulling you back and forth on his cock.

“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you closer, “you’re going to make me cum if you keep doing this...” He looked up you with that lustful look in his eyes that you loved so much. You didn’t stop. You sped it up, bouncing up and down on his cock. “Don’t be quiet,” he reminded you. “Let it out.”

With that, you felt your walls tightening around his hard cock. You were cumming and your legs started shaking while he was inside you. As you writhed and shook, Baekhyun seemed to be finding his own release. He collapsed underneath you, worn out and out of breath. You smiled, planting a kiss on his lips.

When it was over, you cuddled up next to Baekhyun. You wished that Kai wasn’t coming back tomorrow and that you and Baekhyun could keep doing this, without the burden of the guilt setting in.

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