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strwbryhaji · 22 days ago

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HOLY SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL

Needa Fix?

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x DrugDealer!Fem!Reader

Summary: in desperate need of a drug fix and no money to pay for it, Nam-Gyu shows up at the pretty girl dealers house hoping she’d be kind enough to help him out.

Warnings: smut (18+) , p in v sex , oral (f receiving) , nam-gyu begging , drug use , drug dealing , withdrawal , talk about sex for drugs , spit , cum play , drugs like lots of drugs , creampie , probably more , read at your own risk

He was not particularly sure why he came here. He had other dealers that sold harder shit that would even deliver. Maybe it was the fact he knew they wouldn’t spare him a second of their day if they knew Nam-Gyu hadn’t a cent to spare. You however? The sweet lil’ dealer that was like a princess? Maybe you could help him.

Bi-weekly pay had gotten to him. Week one of his lavish expenditures had left him eating sleep for dinner on week two. He had run through his supply of drugs the other night at one of Thanos’ party and with literally no fucking money to buy the drugs he thrived on, Nam-Gyu was not well off.

He tried to get through it, he really did! But the shakes, the brain fog, the migraines, body aches and every other symptom in between have gotten worse. So that led him to walk the 3 miles to your cozy apartment in hopes that you would be kind enough to help him out.

He doesn’t remember the journey, he really just remembers coming face to face with your front door and the brightly colored door mat. Lifting a shaky arm, Nam-Gyu knocks on the door, hoping that you wouldn’t kill him for showing up unannounced at 12am.

“H-heeeyy..”

You look at the jittery man on your doorstep, hand scratching at the back of his neck and heart practically beating out of his throat, “I needa buy.” He’s the picture image of withdrawal. Sheen of sweat, jaw clenched and you can tell the way his body is locking up to try and stop the violent jitters that wrack his body.

“Nam-Gyu?!” You say adjusting your eyes to the backlit Nam-Gyu standing on your porch. It had to be at least midnight. “Fucking hell…” you groan, “I told you to text before coming here.” You’re irritated, blocking the door opening with your body. You give him a once over, eyebrows knitting together, “what the fuck happened to you.”

“Look I-I know you told me to text before I came around but I really need something right now. You always have the best shit- fuck please- I sold the rest of my shit for rent, I-I don’t have anything it’s been days-“

He’s raising his voice, desperately pleading with you to give him a moment of your day despite him turning up out of nowhere. The last thing you need is one of your neighbors getting suspicious of some odd man on your doorstep. You already have people uneasy with how many people come and leave from your house in quick intervals.

You’re groaning, reaching out and gripping his shirt, “Get the fuck in here. You’re acting a mess on my porch.” You’re practically throwing him into your house and slamming the door shut behind Nam-Gyu.

“Fuck thank you, you have no idea how much I need this- I-i mean I really did try to find something else, didn’t want to bother you- but no one fucking answered!” He’s practically pulling his hair out, hands sliding up his face to grip at his hair in a state you could only describe as anguish. You can hear how dry his throat is, each syllable coming out in a creaky broken rasp.

It’s times like these that really make you with that you didn’t deal drugs. Sure, you dealt pills, shit harder than weed- but a good dealer always tests her product and none of your product would do that to someone. Nam-Gyu was coming down off some harder shit.

You feel bad in a way, he’s not a horrible guy and seeing him like this is upsetting. He’s definitely a sarcastic asshole, but, many a time he’s been the one to actually talk to you while picking up, ask you about your day, albeit in a disinterested voice and a slight eye roll. He’d maybe compliment you here and there- he didn’t just toss you money and bolt off your porch.

Your knitted eyebrows relax themselves as you witness his state, “Jeez…‘s okay…” you mutter, trying to calm him down some. “I’ll…uhh get you somethin.” You say pointing behind you in the general direction of your product. He was in a pitiful state, sweaty and gnawing on his inner cheek so hard you’re sure he’s going to bite through his skin. You almost didn’t want to leave him like that just in the middle of your living room

You knew he normally did shit harder than what you were dealing. You were wondering why he even came to you. There had to have been someone else who would have answered. Guess that just means you’re good at your job?

Nam-Gyu watches as you shuffle off awkwardly down the hall. If he didn’t feel like his whole body was on fire he probably would have laughed at what you were wearing- a nightgown with some cutsey designs and fuzzy slippers (bunny ears included). This was who he was getting his drugs from?!

You come back with a few bags in your hands, tired eyes counting over your inventory. “I mean, I got whatever you need…” you say, trying to get this over with as fast as possible, you want to go back to bed.

Nam-Gyu nearly drops to his knees when you come back with all the drugs he could only hope to do. “Fuck yes! I- uh…y-yeah, yeah. Uhm I don’t know, fucking pills of some sort.” He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt and huffing out a shuddering breath, blown out pupils fixated on the bag of colorful pills.

You’re walking over to a chair in your living room, sitting down and popping open one of the small baggies you got, you’re dumping the pills into your hand and examining them- you’re really not sure what you want to give him (you really don’t want to give him anything but it’s not your place to deny him as his dealer if the dude was gonna pay).

You don’t realize it, but Nam-Gyu sure does. When you dump the pills into the cupped hand that’s raised over your lap, excess powder falls through the gaps of your fingers and onto your exposed thighs. He’s raising his hands back to his hair, gripping at the strands and pacing.

Blown out pupils latch onto the dust, he can only imagine the relief that would come if he just had that small amount- just the sprinkling of dust from the pills he knows are good as fuck, would help with the body shakes, the tense jaw, the racing heart and the ungodly amount of sweat, surely!

His body moves on its own accord, Nam-Gyu is dropping to his knees in your living room and crawling towards you, towards that sweet powder he needs.

Lifting your head up you just look at him, dumbly. You’re rightfully confused, this is insane. Nam-Gyu, out of all people on all fours in your living room, crawling towards you. You can’t speak, you’re just genuinely too dumbfounded, watching him come closer and closer.

It’s genuinely jarring, seeing him reduced to what he is right now, hair stuck to his face by the sweat that coats his forehead. His eyes are hollowed, ringed by dark circles that emphasize the pleading, desperate look he has in his eyes as he shakily crawls towards you.

Chin practically over your knees, you can see each breath he takes. “What the fuck are you-“ your voice dies into a surprised gasp when Nam-Gyu’s mouth drops open and his tongue lolls out, diving towards your thighs. You still don’t even realize the powder ecstasy that litters your thighs, all you can think to do is cup the pills into your fist and raise your other arm up to press your palm against his damp forehead.

He’s surprised how strong you are, you’re stiff arming him away from his goal and keeping your elbow locked, looking down at him incredulously. Nam-Gyu looks up at you from his position on the floor, on all fours, eyebrows upturned in a silent plea.

“What the fuck…” you repeat, looking down at him with a look of ‘are you fucking serious?!’.

And Nam-Gyu whines.

“Y-you’re going to fucking waste it.” He’s fighting against your hand, pushing towards your thighs and the multi colored power that dusts your skin. You finally follow his line of view, realizing how much you dropped. And he was right, you would have just dusted off the powder anyway, it was such a microscopic amount that you didn’t even pay it any mind to begin with, why would you save it?!

It’s a moment of silence, so quiet you can hear Nam-Gyu’s breath and your own. He’s not just breathing heavy though, he’s panting. Like a dog begging at your heel for a treat he’s been deprived of for far too long.

You don’t know why, but you’re slowly easing your arm up. Maybe it’s to see the lengths he would actually go to, to get his fix? Maybe it’s because you think your idea of what he was going to do was so far out of his character, he was going to do something different than what it looked like it.

Nam-Gyu is instantly pushing against you, crawling towards you and lowering his head to your thighs. He does exactly what you thought he was going to do.

You’re pulling your hand away from his forehead and you’re gripping the armrest of your chair, drawing in a sharp breath. Nam-Gyu sits up on his knees, placing large hands on your legs and ghosting his lips against your thighs. What the fuck were you even doing?! Letting this client of yours lick fucking powdered ecstasy off your bare thighs?!

But you don’t stop him.

You jump a little when you feel the warmth of his tongue lathe up your left thigh, tracing a wet line through the powder up your leg. He’s slow at first, licking one long stripe and pulling back. His mouth closes, tongue rolling around in his mouth to savor the bitter flavor of the mini dosage. The second he feels the slightest bit of a rush, he’s diving back down and running his tongue along your other thigh.

You just watch, you can’t do much else. Heart thrumming in your throat you watch as his tongue licks up and down your thighs, coating the pink muscle in the powder you weren’t even going to think twice about. Every little bit of ecstasy that begins to coarse through his veins just makes him want more. He becomes sloppy, tongue licking over spots he most certainly has been already.

Each lick eases Nam-Gyu’s symptoms little by little. It’s still not enough though. How could it be?! He is a connoisseur of drugs far harder than yours, a little powdered ecstasy isn’t going to give him the relief he needs or the high he desperately craves.

Gravity works wonders though. As he pulls away the slightest bit, trying to see if there’s any spot he’s missed, he sees what he believes to be the jackpot- the small pile of powder that has collected between your thighs. He can see it, just under the hem of that stupid pink nightgown you’re wearing.

It’s calling to him like a siren calls a sailor- he’d be going into treacherous waters to get it, he knows you well enough to know there’s a 50/50 chance you might snap his neck for even trying to get at the pile of white happiness.

Withdrawl overtakes rationality and he’s going for it. His hands tighten their grip on your knees, beginning to push them apart so he could lick along the insides of your thighs.

You jolt upright, hand flying to his hair and pulling at it, pulling his face up from your thighs. Hrs practically drooling, tongue still stuck out and fighting against your hand to get more.

“I have actual pills Nam-Gyu!” You say, rattling the pills in your hand, “quit licking at the powder like a fucking dog.” The fact he’s doing all of this for so little makes your clothes feel tighter than they are. And the way you’re speaking to him, looking down at him like he’s some freak makes his pants way tighter than he’s ever going to admit.

He seems to snap out of it a bit, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and sitting back on his heels. If he had a tail, you’re pretty sure it would be wagging. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles, wide eyes looking at you with the most desperate look you think you’ve ever seen. “I want the actual pills.” He nods frantically, hands still gripping your knees.

“Yeah…okay..” you say, finally uncurling your fist that holds the pills but not the fist that holds his hair. You try to tell yourself the wetness that’s between your thighs is from Nam-Gyu’s tongue although you know you pulled him away before he could even get up that far. You rub your eyes with your free hand, you can’t believe this is what you night turned too.

“I’ll do the normal 25 for two.” You say simply, looking down at him. You get a front row seat to the way his face falls. His eyes dart around, trying to look anywhere but at you. The sheen of sweat that lines his forehead thickens, beading faster and faster. “Y-yeah, no, yeah, of course…” he nods as best as he can given your hand still in his hair.

Looking at him a bit skeptically, you release the hold you have on his hair and look to the three pills in your hand. Not wanting to get up to get another bag you say fuck it and pop one in your mouth, holding it under your tongue and dropping the other two pills into the small baggie and zip it closed.

Nam-Gyu doesn’t even move. He could put on a whole show of getting out his wallet and looking into the empty money slot but he doesn’t. He knows he doesn’t have the money, he wouldn’t be on his knees licking off ecstasy scraps off your thighs if he had the money to pay you for drugs.

And you were smart, you’ve done this long enough and sold to Nam-Gyu for long enough to know there’s no way he’d be looking at you like a desperate puppy on his knees if he the means to pay you for the pills. But, when you look back from the bag of pills to Nam-Gyu, seeing his eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering like he was about to cry seeing you take the full pill so easily- not having to worry about paying some dealer- you keep the charade going.

You hold the bag up in front of his face, “you want them or not?”

He nods, reaching for the bag. You’re snatching it away, watching as he fumbles and nearly falls over trying to chase after the two measly pills. Catching himself by planting both his hands on your thighs, he’s looking back up to you and panting, the minimal high from the small dose off your thighs now dwindling. He needs more.

“Payment.”

“I-I I can pay you next time! I swear I’m good for it! W-with interest too!”

You scoff, laughing in his face, “I’m not a bank or a loan company.” Your fingers are curling over the bag of pills and pulling it away from him.

Nam-Gyu can see the way your tongue rolls the pill around in your mouth. He can see the way your pupils begin to dilate and cover your irises, he fucking needs that. He always thought you were interesting for that- you’d let it melt, slowly dissolve into your bloodstream rather chewing it like he did.

He’s frowning, realizing he’s not getting far with that proposal. His eyes dart around, hands tightening their hold on your thighs. He’s trying to think of anything!

“Let me eat you out.”

“What?!”

He’s looking directly into your eyes, desperate and completely serious. He’s shaking so hard at this point, being so close yet so far from the thing he needs most right now. Those sweet fucking pills.

“I’m good at it! I’ll- I’ll make it worth your while! However long you want!” He says, wide, wild smile on his face. Nam-Gyu sees your very obvious confusion- eyebrows scrunched and face flushed. “F-for the pills! O-of course!” He laughs nervously. Fuck, did he just fuck up his relationship with, arguably, his favorite plug??

“You’re….” Your voice trails off as you try to think of what to say or even how to say it, “You’re trying to… whore yourself out for drugs?” Nam-Gyu can feel his dick twitch in his pants when you word it like that, your words sort of slurred with the pill you keep tucked under your tongue.

You cannot believe this. Nam-Gyu reduced to a begging mess willing to sell his body for some pathetic pills. Though the thought of him eating you out makes the wet spot between your legs, that you will swear was from Nam-Gyu licking your thighs, grow wetter, you don’t want him to only do it for pills.

“Yeah.” Nam-Gyu responds simply, hands sliding up your thighs, “I don’t have money but I can give you that at least!”

You scoff, “That’s a little pathetic.”

Nam-Gyu’s eyes flutter shut, he’s drawing in a shaky breath and he’s canting his hips upwards, trying to ease the strain his pants put on his growing erection. Though he fucking loved the sound of you calling him pathetic, he knew where the idea came from. He knew what you thought and he thought it was stupid you even assumed this was only for drugs, like he wouldn’t be down to eat you out any other time.

He would. Oh, he absolutely would but the time never arose. You two lived different lives that only intersected at a small intersection. Nam-Gyu knew your life wasn’t all about drug dealing- you had a degree on your wall for fucks sake- drug dealer or not you were far better than him. Too good for him.

“F-fuck I-I’m not just saying this because I want the drugs…well I want the Fuc-fucking drugs but I wouldn’t j-just whore myself out like this to anyone!” He’s rambling, every other word cut off by a shuddering hiccup.

You raise an accusatory eyebrow, a grin now beginning to spread across your face, “so, you’d just whore yourself out to me?” You bite your lip, resolve crumbling the longer you watch him on his knees, fingertips absentmindedly digging into your thighs as his need for the high he had for a split second ago heightens once more.

Nam-Gyu’s eyes widen, realizing exactly what he said, what he was implying. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, he’s so fucking hot he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. Fuck, is he going to vomit? He literally just begged you to let him eat you out for two fucking pills. What has he come to.

You can see the way his eyes literally can’t meet yours anymore, the way his breath is quickening in pace becoming short, rapid pants as he tries to think of anyway to remedy a situation only he saw as a failure.

Too out of it, too far into withdrawal and teased by the slight nirvana the minuscule amount of ecstasy he got off your thighs, he doesn’t even realize how you’ve shifted. You’re tossing the two bagged pills across the way and onto the couch of your living room and lean down.

One of your hands captures his chin, fixing your hold so your thumb is on his bottom lip and your pointer finger is hooked under his chin, forcing his gaze back to you. “Beg for it.”

His eyebrows scrunch, lip almost instinctively rolling into a defiant snarl, “huh?!”

“You want your fix right?” Nam-gyu’s breath hiccups once more as you roll your tongue in your mouth and push the bright purple pill in between your teeth, holding it there- showing him that the pill in your mouth was the one he was about to get.

“Y-yeah, I want it. F-fuck please, it’s been fucking days since I’ve been fucked up.” He’s pulling his hands off your thighs and clawing at the fabric of his pants.

You push back off the chair and slowly stand. When Nam-Gyu teeters on his knees placing a hand on the ground like he’s about to push himself up to stand with you, you strengthen your grip on his chin, putting his focus back on you. You can see the way he struggles- he’s not used to this.

“I didn’t say you could stand.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows scrunching like he’s angry- yet he doesn’t move. He’s bigger than you, he can easily overpower you and stop you at anytime but he doesn’t. He’s just keeps his chin tilted up at you and lets you continue.

“Now beg for it.” Your words are spoken through clenched teeth as you keep holding the pill to be visible.

“Y-you want me to beg for a pill, that’s..that’s been in your fucking mouth a-already?!” He shudders out, almost in a hiss if it wasn’t for his ragged breathing that just wouldn’t cease.

You’re sucking the pill back into your mouth, “You have the money to pay for a pill that hasn’t been in my mouth?”

The way you say it in such a mocking tone, the way you tilt your head ever so slightly and squint your eyes for emphasis- just rubbing in the fact he has no room to complain.

Nam-gyu opens his mouth to protest, to call you a bitch even- but that wouldn’t get him the high he desperately needs- he’s closing his mouth and pouting. He needs something, anything at this point. It’s a deep, almost engraved need that has his mind spiraling at the sanctity that even that pill, the one that was a third of the way dissolved in your mouth by now, would give him.

He’s swallowing thickly, fidgeting awkwardly on the floor in his kneeling position, “P-Please.” It’s soft, like he’s testing it out, seeing if that’s all he needs to do.

It’s not.

When he realizes that you don’t even flinch, you just continue to look down at him with a twisted grin, he lifts his hands to his hair, scratching at his scalp and moaning, it’s an exasperated, needy groan that just proves how bad he needs this small fix. His eyes are rolling back and screwing shut like he’s battling with himself (he absolutely is).

He doesn’t even get the solace of looking away to gather himself, your hold on his chin keeps him looking up at you. “F-fuck…holy shit, a-alright, fuck!” Nam-Gyu is nearly yelling now, face flushed and taking on a new sheen of sweat that begins to come back full force. “Please! I fucking need it. Y-you have no..no fucking idea!”

There it is again, the upturned eyebrows and quivering lip that makes your cunt throb in ways you didn’t think was possible. Oh, you could get used to this. Your grin widens, “You gonna text before showing up again? Like I’ve told you a thousand times before?”

He nods erratically, falling forwards placing his hands back over your thighs as he shakes his head free from the hold you had on his chin. He’s surging forward, chin resting on your stomach and hands sliding upwards from your thighs to your waist.

Now he’s pulling you closer, keeping your gaze. You could swear he’s nearly crying now, eyelashes becoming matted with the way his eyes well up in pure desperation.

“Yes- ohmygod yes! I promise! I-I’ll text you, I’ll even call when I’m 5 minutes away when I’m heading to you! I-I fuck! I’m so s-sorry I showed up out of..out of fucking nowhere I just need something! P-please! You’re…you’re the only person I could think to go to.”

It’s full on rambling now, it didn’t take much for his resolve to fully break. You honestly miss half of what he says because you can’t stop staring that the outline of his erection that strains against his pants.

You nod, hand coming to cup his cheek and push him away from you the slightest bit. Fingertips ghosting lightly over his cheek and down to his chin, holding him much how you were moments ago, you only respond with one word, “Open”

And Nam-Gyu does. His mouth drops open before the word even falls from your lips completely. Tugging him forward slightly, you’re leaning directly over him. He lolls his tongue out eagerly, he’s not dumb- he knows exactly what you’re about to do and he couldn’t be happier.

You’re bending down slightly before you purse your lips and suck your teeth. In a slow, thick, glistening trail, you’re spitting the pill onto Nam-Gyu’s tongue.

The second the pill hits his tastebuds, surrounded by the taste of your spit- something he never imagined he would ever taste- he’s practically keeling over, cock becoming painfully hard. Snapping his mouth shut, he’s chewing the pill and sighing deeply.

You pull back, dropping your hand from his chin and smiling slightly. Nam-Gyu visibly relaxes, straightening his back and rolling his neck from shoulder to shoulder with a groan as the high slowly but surely begins to take over his body. You’re backing up and sitting back down to watch the show, how his chest heaves and now sweat beads down his neck. As much as you want to not be, you’re also focused on the outline of his dick.

You’re positive he’d stand and bid you farewell. Nam-Gyu only hung around you sometimes and sure you’ve had decent conversations with the guy but it’s always been under the same pretense- Nam-Gyu stopping by to buy drugs from you. Once he got that fix, after the stunt you just pulled- you’re certain he’d be fucking gone the second he got his bearings. The erection was just a symptom of his withdrawal desperation. You did erotically spit a pill into his mouth…But he also wasn’t exactly in the right mind.

Nam-gyu leans back on his hands, tipping his head to the ceiling and letting out a soft hum, the effects beginning to wash over his body. Assuming he’s gotten what he’s wanted and getting ready to leave, you go to speak,

“I can see you out-“

“Can I still eat your pussy?”

“Oh-“ your voice cuts off into a surprised squeak as you realize you two had very different ideas. Your wide eyes look over to Nam-Gyu like you’ve misheard him, his head still tipped back and eyes still closed. “Look- I don’t feel right having you whore yourself out for some pills…I’ll just give you one for the road if it’s that bad. You don’t have to-“

“I fucking want to” he’s cutting you off. “This isn’t about the pills anymore.” Nam-Gyu is snapping his head back forward to look at you and then down to his very obvious erection.

Once again, much like the beginning of the night, you’re looking at him incredulously, like he’s not even speaking the same language as you. Now you’re the one left with your mouth hanging open trying to find something to say.

“Fuck..” Nam-Gyu says breathlessly and exasperated much like he was before- like eating you out is something he needs, “Do I have to beg for that too?! I-I will.”

He’s crawling again, dear fucking god, he might kill you at this rate. You’ve seen his man get into rages that scared you when you’ve seen him working at Club Pentagon. You know all too well he’s a ticking time bomb of an erratic nature that freaks most people out. That terrifying image is whittled down to a pathetic, desperate man that crawls to you. He’s looking at you with wide eyes as he moves back into the same position when he was licking ecstasy off your thighs.

Ringed hands splay themselves over your thighs, gripping the flesh as he kneels before you. “C’mon, fuck, please, just lemme get a taste. I c-could fucking, ohmygod, i could fucking smell you when I was licking your thighs clean.” as he rambles, he’s staring down at your lap like he could see through the bunched fabric of your night gown that hides your pussy from his view.

“I…” He scrunches his face like he’s debating on saying something and it seems like the courage his high gives him wins over whatever battle he was going through, “I fuckin’ dreamt about eating you out. W-wanna know what you sound like when I suck on your clit…” his hands are sliding up your thighs, “Y-You made the cutest little squeal this…this one time when you got tickled by your best friend when I was here to pick up a-a month ago…been thinking, fuck..” he’s squeezing your thighs as he rambles on, “been thinking about if-if you make that same sound when you cum.”

You hardly remember the time he’s talking about- you know you had your best friend staying over a while ago- maybe they had scared you and tickled your sides and he had been waiting in the living room?! You didn’t know but his words made your mind fill with too much static to even try to dig the memory up.

He takes your silence as he needs to do more. Need to beg more. Be it the increasing intensity of the high he’s feeling or just the sheer need he’s been bottling up for a fix of drugs and a fix of you, he’s rambling on without you even telling him to.

“I jerk off thinking of you! The first time I came to buy from you after Thanos sent me your number I-I fucking went home and fisted my dick raw to the thought of you giving me head.” Nam-Gyu’s blown pupils bounce around as he looks around, trying to think of anything else to plead his case like he’s talking to his old parole officer when he broke his probation.

You let him speak, shifting under his hold as he rambles. The high makes his mind spin in ways that when he’s focused on talking, begging you to let him eat you out, he doesn’t even feel the way you throw his hands off of you. Hell he doesn’t even see how you flip your nightgown up, revealing your bare pussy- his head is tipped up to the sky as he begins to list nearly everytime he’s gone home hard just become he’s come over to pick up from you.

“Nam-Gyu.”

He finally snaps his head back to your eyes and looks at you, only when your eyes drop down to your cunt- directing his gaze- does he follow.

“O-oh fucking hell.”

He’s moving forward eagerly, throwing all caution to the wind. The only idea, the only thought he has is diving tongue deep into your cunt.

“Aht!”

Your hand is flying to the top of his head and pulling at his hair, scolding him like a dog. You’re pulling him back and closing your legs, shielding his direct view of your sticky cunt. “I didn’t say you could touch.”

He looks up to you, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutted out in a pout, “Wa-wait no please! I promise I’ll make it worth your while. F-fuck you have such a pretty fucking pussy.” Nam-Gyu is so fixated on the fact he’s seen your bare pussy, the fact you haven’t been wearing underwear the whole time, he’s forgetting what he’s trying to ask.

Part of Nam-Gyu is so overtly aware that he would never be in this position sober. On his knees and begging?! That wasn’t in his personality. The high of the drugs you deal, the drugs that you spit in his mouth, have completely melted any inhibition he’s had.

“You said you jerked off to me?”

The fact you don’t even address his rambling directly makes him leak pathetically, he’s nodding in response.

“Tell me about it. What did you think about?” Your voice comes out in a soft purr, legs falling open once more. With your heels tucked up on the seat you sit on and your knees falling outward, you’re spread open for him once again. Still holding him by the hair, you tighten your grip to make sure he still remembers what you said. No touching.

“I- uhh…oh fuck…” his eyes are darting around as he’s trying to think of the last time he thought about you with his hands around his cock, it’s hard to even think about something in the past when his face is level with your pussy. “Last m-month.” He pants out, eyes back on your cunt.

He’s pausing, mouth watering as he watches your hand trail down your stomach and to your inner thighs, “Go on…” you’re urging.

“I came to fucking get some weed. You- oh fuck.” Nam-Gyu chokes on his words as your hand run back upwards, sitting against your pubic bone, fingers sliding down the sides of your cunt and spreading yourself wide.

“Come on ‘Gyu, don’t tell me you haven’t seen a pussy before.”

“Not one this pretty, no.”

His response catches you off guard, no sarcastic remark, no angry glare, just the truth about what he was thinking. Something he hardly ever spoke outwardly. Nam-Gyu was closed off, everyone knew that. His inner most feelings were anyone’s guess- but right now, he seems like he’s spouting off exactly how he feels no problem.

“You- ohmygod- you were getting ready to go to the club with your friends…with the- the fuck, the VIP thing I gave you.”

“You mean the wristband?”

“Yes, fuck, the wristband. Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.” Nam-Gyu groans, all sense of proper thinking going out the window when he watches two of your fingers pet at your clit. Light circles, barely any pressure, but with each complete circle around the pulsing bud, he watches as more of your creamy arousal leaks from your entrance. The worst part? He can’t even lick it up, you won’t let him, your other hand is still latched onto his hair, holding him an arms length away.

“You had this fucking outfit on- the black dress, the one that was far too fucking short and some heels.” Every word is an expletive at this point, “You fucking bent down to pick something up and I-I saw your fucking thong, pink with bows. And fuck your ass…I just-”

“You perv.” You scold with a teasing grin, “looking up my dress like that~” your fingers move lower, tracing around your entrance, “So then what? You went back home and fisted your cock to the thought of my thong?”

“If I say yes can I eat you out?”

“You’re so impatient. You want it that bad?” You can hear the way his breath hitches when you sink two fingers into your pussy, curling them upwards a few times. He’s fixated on how you writhe on the chair when your fingers sink deeper into you.

“Fuck yes I do…” he mumbles. He can get over how he’s actually in the position he’s in. The year or so he’s bought drugs from you he’s thought about fucking you stupid plenty of times. Nam-Gyu has fantasized about the day he actually got to see your cunt after getting to see the silhouette of it the time he just rambled on about- puffy lips hugging the frilly fabric of your thong, practically swallowing the fabric to the point of making the damn thing useless.

You slowly take your fingers from your cunt, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers dragging along your walls. Every feeling is heightened to the point of lighting up every nerve with a liquid heat that only makes your pussy leak more. You let the pill Nam-Gyu begged for melt in your mouth, you’re just as high as Nam-Gyu was now.

“Open”

You don’t have to tell Nam-Gyu twice. He’s leaning forward and grabbing your wrist with his hand, pulling your fingers towards his mouth. His lips wrap around your digits and he’s sucking, hard. His tongue is lathing in between your fingers and cleaning any sort of remnant of your juices off of your fingers.

Nam-Gyu decides then and there that your pussy might just be better than any drug he’s ever done. Even from the second-hand taste he’s getting, he’s already addicted. Who would have thought his plugs pussy could be so fucking sweet?!

You remove your fingers from his mouth slowly. Letting out a shuddering breath of your own when you see Nam-Gyu chase after your fingers the best he can. Fingers fully removed, you’re bringing the digits up between you two and admiring how they’re covered in his spit instead of your own wetness. Bringing your fingers to your own mouth, you’re wrapping your pink lips around them and moaning softly when the taste of him coats your tongue.

The high seems to hit Nam-Gyu all at once, the steady climb of the trip has reached its peak. Face level with your puffy cunt and eyes watching how you suck his spit off your fingers like you’ve thought about this exact moment before- the symptoms of his withdrawal are completely eased for the time being and forgotten about.

The symptoms of his withdrawal gone, he realizes just how depraved you’ve made him. He was on his knees licking at your thighs like a dog and begging for a pill that you’ve already sucked on. You’re withholding the cunt he’s dreamt about eating and gripping at his hair while he kneels before you- this isn’t him.

Confidence boosted and chemical courage running through his veins, you can see the shift that happens in him. Nam-Gyu’s eyes drop, becoming dark and hooded. His pout that he once wore turns into a wicked grin and his hands that he was being so nice about keeping in his lap? Oh, he’s putting them to use.

He moves quick, he’s not letting you get away now that he has you like this. He fights against your hand that holds him by his hair and loosens your grip. His hands grip at the back of your thighs, folding you in on yourself and pushing you deeper into the cushion of your chair. Nam-Gyu is lowering his face towards your cunt, so close that you can feel the tip of his nose ghost over your drenched folds.

He gives you no time to prepare, he doesn’t want you to have the opportunity to pull away and keep trying this shit you were doing. Mouth engulfing your pussy, he’s prodding his tongue into your entrance and sucking. The taste he got from your fingers? He needs more of it and straight from the source.

You’re jolting off the chair, squealing out his name and trying to close your legs around his head. It’s futile, his hands stop your legs from closing and even when he feels them begin to twitch shut- he’s pressing on your thighs harder.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Nam-Gyu huffs against your pussy. He’s looking up at you with a warning glare, blown out pupils fixated on keeping your gaze. He’s dropping open his jaw wide, laying his tongue flat and licking a devastating stripe up the entirety of your pussy. Reaching his destination, he’s flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Fucking bitch making me beg.” He’s talking to himself more than you, like he’s trying to tell himself to be mad and act as if he wasn’t turned on by being in such a pathetic situation. With every word he speaks he’s making sure his lips dance along your throbbing bud. He licks at it one more time, pulling away to examine you.

One of his hands releases your thigh, coming up to rest on your lower stomach as his thumb and pointer finger caress the sides of your clit, “You just wanted to hear me talk about jerking off to you like some fucking cock addicted slut..” he points out his eyes narrowed and his words laced with a mocking laugh-but he’s still panting, tongue practically lolled out of his mouth and licking at his lips pathetically trying to get any bit of your taste he can.

“Wanted to act all big and bad, making me beg like a dog in heat…fuck you’ve wanted this all along haven’t you?” Nam-Gyu’s eyes flick from your dripping cunt back up to you, expecting a response. You try to respond but he keeps petting at your clit making nothing but whimpers fall from your lips. He chuckles, “You nasty f-fucking bitch, you-you did want this.” He has a glint in his eye and a wicked grin.

He’s lolling his mouth open wide, dropping his tongue out of his mouth and letting a thick, warm glob of his spit pool at the tip of his tongue and drop down onto your pussy with a wet plap! Nam-Gyu is staring as his spit slowly follows the contours of your cunt, tracing over your clit and dropping lower to dribble down to pool at the edge of your quivering entrance. Fingers still playing with your throbbing clit.

“O-oh, f-fuck, Nam-Gyu~.” You pant out gripping at the fabric of your nightgown to hike it up further, eyebrows up turned in a desperate expression waiting for him to continue his ministrations. “Fuck- yes, needa hear you say my name, keep fuckin saying it- sound so pretty.” and he’s wrapping his lips around your clit once more and trying to get you to cry out his name more and more.

When you’re pressing your hips up into his face, greedily wanting more. Nam-gyu finally has the realization that the attraction was mutual, he can’t take it anymore, he’s removing his fingers from your clit and diving nose deep back into your pussy. Keeping his mouth on you, he drops both hands to shimmy out of his pants and underwear, pulling them down just enough to get his cock out.

He’s leaking at this point, as much as he’s trying to turn the tables and make you seem pathetic- the way his lower abdomen is covered in his mess, his thick cock is coated in sticky precum, more leaking out of the red and throbbing tip and adding to the mess that traces down each pulsing vein- now that’s pathetic.

You can’t pick where to look- where he’s slobbering all over your pussy, driving his tongue deep into you or where he’s frantically fisting his cock. Nam-Gyu is fucking his own hand with a vigor that has him groaning out into your sweet cunt.

“T-this is wha-what you should be dealing.” He grunts, “this pussy’s better than- oh fuck- better than any drug out there.”

“I should fuckin’ ruin you for- mmmph fuck, so good- for keepin’ this from me.” Nam-Gyu is whining against your puffy lips now, taking deep inhales of your scent like he’s trying to engrave it into his nose for days to come. “This sweet…” he’s pulling back to ogle at the mess he’s made of you before wrapping his lips around your clit and giving a harsh suck, “sweet.” Suck! “Fucking.” Suck! “Cunt.”

With a cry of his name, your head is flopping back bonelessly onto the chair. He has no real technique, his tongue feels like it’s everywhere at once and yet, it feels so fucking good. Your hand is scratching at his scalp and your hips are lifting up off the chair to grind on his face, babbling out phrases of praise and his name. Each time he hears the syllables of your name fall from your drool soaked lips, he’s fisting his cock harder.

The worst part? He won’t stop looking at you. His hooded eyes are locked on to every little reaction he drags out of you. How your breath squeaks when he tenses is tongue and flicks your clit, how your hold on his hair tightens when he sucks on your labia, and how sweet your lips look calling his name.

He’s watching you as he’s furiously stroking his cock. He’s staring while he’s dropping open his maw and giving your wide flat licks, making sure you see the way your creamy mess coats his tongue only for him to greedily swallow it down and do it again.

Nam-Gyu wants sure if it was the trip of the pill you gave him or just his pent up need for you but he cannot be satisfied. He’s thinking of every time he’s come to buy from you- your cute little self handing him some pill that was some shit Jehovah hasn’t even witnessed packed in a pink little baggie with hearts- he’s thinking of every time he’s been here and just thought about doing this exact thing- he has to make up for lost time.

“Na- oh my god- fuck!” You’re squealing and trying to shut your legs, everything he does feels so heightened- you took the same pill he did, after all!

He’s laughing into your poor cunt, dropping his cock in favor of pinning your plush thighs open. “Keep- mmm shit, so wet- keep your fucking legs open.” His voice is laced with a tone that commands your compliance, his eyes narrowing slightly like if you were to deny him of his feast he might go wild.

His thumbs dip inward, tracing the outside of your cunt before prodding their way into your weeping hole. Nam-Gyu nearly blows his load all over his own hand when he feels how tight you are, how fucking soft and warm and wet- just taking his two thumbs so easily, your cunt swallowing the digits greedily.

He needs to be inside you. He needs to feel you cum on his cock.

You’re far too gone to even get a chance to realize he’s moved, completely pulled off of you and has stood up. The mix of your high and the onslaught of his needy mouth has you blissed out beyond comprehension. He’s yanking you up off the chair and picking you up.

“F-fuckin makin- making me wait a year to fuck you….” He’s grumbling hands holding you up by your ass, fingers practically bruising you with an iron grip. He’s maneuvering you the best he can given the pants and underwear around his ankles. Your hands thread themselves in his long hair, tugging at the raven strands as you grind down on his cock that’s pressed between the two of you.

Nam-Gyu fumbles a bit as he turns around and drops himself to the couch. With you straddling his legs, hot cunt ghosting the underside of his cock, Nam-Gyu swears this is exactly how one of his wet dreams of you played out.

You’re looking down too, mouth hung open as you admire his weeping cock. He’s created such a mess of himself just by eating you out. He’s so hard you’re sure it has to hurt at this point. The tip is red and angry, leaking glob after glob of pearly pre-cum down his veiny shaft. Every so often it twitches against you, bumping against your needy clit.

“S-see what you do to me?” Nam-Gyu asks, fingers gripping harder into your ass. “Fucking leaking jus’ from eating you out.” He’s huffing, said his hands to shift your hips and grind your warm, wet cunt across his dick. “Dreamt of this…”

You’re removing your hands from his hair and placing them on his shoulders, letting soft whimpers fall from your lips anytime the thick vein on the underside of his cock drags against your clit. “Always wondered how you ride cock- mmmpf fuck- know you’d take it so well.”

He’s bucking his hips up into you as he rambles on and on about every single time he’s imagined fucking you exactly how you were now. Running his cock through your folds, coating himself in the cream that leaks from your abused pussy.

Nails digging into his shoulders you’re leaning forwards and colliding your lips with his to shut him up. It’s hot and heavy, messy with spit and tongue. Nam-Gyu is whining into your mouth, hips picking up the pace of humping against your sweet cunt. He’s never going to get over the feeling of your lips on his.

Pulling away from the kiss breathless You’re lifting yourself up the best you can with your thighs still shaking, one of your hands grabbing the base of his dick. As soon as your hand squeezes around his cock, more pre-cum oozes out and flows down over your knuckles.

“You’re rambling.” You huff against his lips, resting your forehead on his as you look down between you two. Dragging his thick cock head through your folds, you’re tucking your legs behind you. Hooking your feet over his thighs you’re slowly sinking down on him.

When Nam-Gyu realizes how you’re positioning yourself he’s sucking in a shuddering breath, fucking hell you’re going to kill him.

“I-oh fuck-“ you want to say more but you’re choked up. The second the mushroom tip is pushing into you, splitting you apart, you can’t even remember what you were going to say. The high you’re both experiencing is reaching a peak, you can feel every little bit of him in ways you never thought was possible.

Your mouth is already watering at how much the girth of his dick is gaping your walls. With a sickening, wet pop, Nam-Gyu’s cock-head sinks into you. It’s no where near all of him and yet you’re feeling the delicious dull throb between your thighs that tells you how wrecked you’re about to be.

“Oh- shit-“ he’s hissing out, gripping at your hips and preventing you from sinking down further, “g-gotta fuckin’ relax, squeezing me so tight.” You fight his hold and sink yourself down further. Nam-Gyu is falling back bonelessly on the couch, a whiney moan falling from his spit soaked lips as he feels more and more of his cock be swallowed by your hot cunt.

“‘M gonna fucking bust qu-quick” he’s whining, “wanna savor it, yeah? S-slow…or yer gonna kill me.”

“Y-you’re so biiig…” you’re whining out, one hand still guiding his cock into you the other holding up your cute little nightgown, bunching it up under your tits.

“D-don’t fucking tal- oh god- talk like that.” Nam-Gyu hisses. His voice is rugged and choked, he’s snarling trying to hold himself together- canine teeth clenched and eyes screwing shut. “You are going to make me blow my load so fucking quick.” It’s coming out in a breathless laugh, not a single one of his dreams of fucking hey could compare to the real thing.

He’s already mindless just by the way your walls were trying to suck him deeper even with his hands holding you up- your words are only making the shiver that runs up the base of his spine tighten, he feels like he can’t fucking take it.

“Mmmm, fuck, please~” you whine out, fighting against his hold and stuffing yourself with even more of his cock, “wan’ it inside…so fuckin’ bad…” you’re babbling on mindlessly, dropping your hips down. Nam-Gyu’s cock is prying your gummy walls apart, destroying your sopping pussy.

Blissed out beyond belief, Nam-Gyu lets you drop down. With a wet slap, your ass is connecting with his thighs and you can feel his heavy balls slap against your ass. The second you’re sinking all the way down you can feel his throbbing cockhead press on that sweet, sweet, spot that has you seeing stars.

“O-oh fucking hell.” Nam-Gyu gasps, head picking up off the back of the couch to look down where you connect. The way the circumference of his veiny length splits your puffy folds apart has him twitching deep inside you. Your poor pussy looks absolutely wrecked, gaped open and leaking- covering his pelvis in the sticky sheen of your wetness.

“I-I fucking dreamt about this pussy..” he’s nearly shaking, his hands on your hips are vibrating, digging into the fat of your hips. Now that he’s gotten the sweet taste of your saccharine cunt wrapped so tightly around him like a vice he never wants to pull out of. “Sooooo fucking wet….” He’s drawling on, lifting a shaking hand to put it in between you, thumbing over your clit.

You’re keeling over, falling forward so your chest is flush with his, swiveling your hips both into his touch and down on his cock. “You-hah- you fucking wanted this. Wanted me to whore myself out for- shitttt~”

You’re cutting him off by lifting yourself up then dropping back down with a wet smack! ass rippling against his thighs. When Nam-Gyu feels the tight, wet glide of your cunt up and down his cock and the fat of your ass jiggling against you, a switch is flipped.

He’s pulling both his hands away from you and shifting lower on the couch. Ringed hands come back with a vengeance, grabbing handfuls of your ass and pulling you to him. “Ri-ride me, fucking use my cock.”

With a wanton cry of his name you’re rocking your hips up and down his length. It’s devastating, sliding up and down his fat cock feels like you’re destroying your insides in the best way. “Mmpfh- shit- so, so fuckin’ good.” Nam-Gyu huffs from below you, not able to keep his eyes on one place for too long. Your face, your pretty tits bouncing in his face, your dripping cunt that’s creaming around him?! He can’t pick!!

“Nam-Gyuuu…” you huff, arms wrapping around his neck and gripping at the black hairs that sit at the nape of his neck. Your head is falling to his shoulder, nosing along his jugular.

Hearing his name fall from your mouth in the pathetic, needy cry it was he can feel his balls tighten. Everything you do makes his cock twitch deep insure you- and you can feel every fucking bit of it. “So fucking warm…” he sighs, more to himself than you. He’s positive he could completely lose himself in the ecstasy that was your tight, wet cunt.

He can hear every soft whimper and moan right neck to his ear, your breath tickling his skin. “Y-you’re so fucking deep.” You coo, your eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of your skull when you begin to roll your hips against him, grinding his cock deep inside you.

“Ye-yeah?” He chokes out with a breathless laugh, trying to keep any sense of composure he can. Nam-Gyu is not a virgin by any means but this secret crush, no, obsession, he’s had with you for the year you’ve been his dealer has bubbled up for so long and he had NEVER thought he would get to this point.

To him you were untouchable, so far out of his league that it was pathetic of him to even try with you. You were nothing like the sleazy bimbos he found himself hanging around during his shifts at the club. You were cunning, funny, so fucking smart that it pissed him off but yet, you were one of the largest dealers in the area with the best reviews. You were a walking fucking dream.

“You like it?” He hums, nudging your face with his cheek, you lift yourself back up with a moan, feeling his cock rock deep inside you with every minuscule movement. Leaning back a bit, you’re both looking down at how your swollen pussy is spread wide around him, puffy lips swallowing him greedily and stretched open so wide your clit is on perfect display.

Folds gaped obscenely to take in every inch he so graciously gives you, throbbing but visibly pulsating. “feeling how f-fucking deep I am…I’m ruining your poor cunt..” he gasps, mouth going slack and watering at the sight.

You whine, both at his words and the sight itself. Your dragging on hand off his shoulder and sliding it down your stomach and to your leaking pussy. Pointer and middle fingers tracing the edges of your cunt and the sides of his cock- you’re clenching when you feel with your own hands how your pussy is accommodating Nam-Gyu’s girth.

“Don’t f-fucking do that- oh my god…” Nam-Gyu chokes, he can’t even describe the things seeing you touch yourself does to him. He watches on as you trace the pads of your fingers around your clit, the sound of your wetness sloshing with each circle you make. You’re jolting against him, eyebrows upturned, biting your lip, moaning so sweetly and you’re oh so fixated on the same view. Nam-Gyu looks back up to you, sees how you’re just as wrecked about it as him he’s releasing your ass and bringing his hands up to his face.

Veiny hands drag down his face, he’s laughing in disbelief that he’s even gotten to this point, but he knows it’s inevitable…the high of those pretty colorful pill you spit into his mouth is making him feel everything 10x more.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum quick.” It’s said like it was the conclusion of a whole conversation he had inside his head.

You look back up to him, finally, broken out of the trance you were in when you hear him, you have no time to ask him what he even meant- he’s planting his feet flat on the carpeted floor of your living room and snaking his arms around your back, caging you to him completely.

It’s an instant onslaught of rapid, depraved thrusts as Nam-Gyu pistons his hips up into your cunt. Wet squelches and slaps fill your ears and you’re digging your nails so hard into his shoulders that you’re breaking skin through the fabric of his shirt.

“O-oh! F-fuck!!!” You’re sobbing out. His cock has a down right evil curve that makes him hit your g-spot every single time. “Nam-Gyu!” You feel like you’re about to explode.

“Mhm….’s it..you take it so fuckin’ well.” He slurs, manipulating you up and down his cock like you were a fuck doll, “c-could fuckin stay in you forever.” Nam-Gyu is biting his bottom lip, turning his head to nuzzle himself into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Hands running up and down your back, he’s trying to touch anywhere he can. Nam-Gyu can feel his cock throb, pulse after pulse he’s chasing after the orgasm that he’s been holding back since the second he got a taste of your pretty pussy.

It’s so fucking good. It’s messy, sloppy, and desperate. You can feel the bloom of your orgasm deep within your cunt. You’re sobbing out, “yesyesyes! Jus’ like that- oh my godddd” you slur, completely cockdrunk at this point. You can’t remember the last time

You were fucked like this. Your head now falling to his shoulder and your fingers tugging at his hair Nam-Gyu is letting out a low hum of approval.

This is how he needed you. Fucked dumb. Fucked dumb by him.

“Uh-huh ‘s it….jus’ take it…” he’s sushing you, the idea of you using him is out the window. He knows he’s going to be a goner for sure, he’s going to busting quick in your gooey walls, he needs to feel you cum before he does. “needa- fuck you’re so wet..” he growls, nails scratching at your back and waist, “needa feel you cream around my cock.”

He’s shifting once more, nudging you to sit back upright as hard as it was, “touch y’self f’me again…wanna watch.” He pleads, eyes trailing downwards to look at the mess you’ve both made, “Fuck you’re so messy…” another groan.

Placing one hand on his knee and leaning back, your other hand goes straight to your engorged bud, tracing frantic circles that make your pussy spasm around him. He doesn’t let up, he’s jackhammering his cock into you, your sticky wetness spraying his abdomen with every thrust.

“It-it feels so fucking good~” you sob out, the wet noises of your sloppy pussy drowns out by Nam-Gyu’s whiny moans and praises. “I-oh shit- Nam-Gyu you’re gonna make m-me cum.” You pant, your orgasm imminent at this point.

He never thought he would hear those words in person. He would have accepted the fact that what you just said was something he conjured up in a fantasy he imagined while he was fisting his cock- but no, you’re saying it. You. Are really saying it.

“Ohhhh fuck me..” Nam-Gyu groans, he can feel the way his balls tighten he’s about to cum so fucking hard, “You close?” He says running one hand up your spine to grab at the back of your neck forcing your eyes back up. Making you look at him, he has to know what a pretty face like yours looks like when you cum.

“I can- fuck mmpfh- I can feel you clenching around me.” You nod in response at his words, the only possible way you can respond. You can feel him pulse and throb inside you, his hand on your neck grabs tighter, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Gonna let me c-cum inside? Needa fill you up so bad.” He’s looking up from your messy cunt to you, giving you a look that’s akin to a pleading puppy.

“Y-yes! Please, fuck- ohmygod! Just like that!” Your words are slurred and almost impossible to decipher. You’re body is locking up it feels so fucking good. All you can do is take it, your hips moving in tiny sporadic jerking motions as you let him use you while you rub your fingers against your clit.

“Fuck you’re not real…” Nam-Gyu gasps out, nose touching yours, breath fanning your lips. “Gonna cum so- fucking shit!- gonna cum so deep in your tight cunt….” His voice is turning to a snarl, his teeth clenched and you can feel the way his nose scrunches.

“Mhm!!!” You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood nodding your head, getting closer and closer to that sweet release.

“An’ your sloppy pussy’s gonna take it all…” he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, “A-and I’m gonna….” He’s grunting, he’s so fucking close, “gonna cum in you over and over until your leaking my cum for days-“

“Cum f’me, pretty. Fuck- please…please I wanna feel it.” Thrusts now sloppy and erratic, he was so, so fucking close. Rhythmic, lewd wet slaps fill your ears, you can hear the sloshing sound your cunt makes with each drive of his cock deep into you.

“O-oh! Fuck! Yesyesyesyes!!” Words slurred and creaky, you’re meeting his thrusts with equally depraved and sloppy swivels of your hips and your fingers work harder against your clit. Your orgasm gushes out of you in a thick stream that splashes against his pelvis, cunt clamping down on his cock.

“I-oh fuck! You can squirt?!” Nam-Gyu says, somewhat pulled back into reality when he realizes somehow you just got better. Like all the lewd porn videos he’s watched, your cum is streaming out of you, splashing with every thrust he uses to prolong it. Your moans are practically squeals at this point, fingers still working against your clit fervently.

“Oh god- fuck- ‘m gonna cum- so fucking tight!” He’s growling, fingers gripping the back of your neck so tight you know you’re going to have an imprint of his hand there tomorrow. With a couple more brutal thrusts he’s slamming himself deep within you and cumming. It’s so much. Rope after rope, you can feel every gooey strand paint your insides in a warm white coating.

“‘M cuummminggg..” it’s a low, choked rasp that has your pussy clenching even harder around him. Much like he fucked you through your orgasm, you do it for him. Continuously slamming your hips down and milking his cock for all he has.

Nam-Gyu is whining, pathetic attempts at your name and praises of your pussy. Hips pathetically jerking into your cunt as he cums buckets into your cunt like a virgin who just fucked for the first time. And you just continue to fuck him- he’s in heaven. Every slide of your cum filled cunt up and down his length has Nam-Gyu vibrating with overstimulation.

He’s the one who has to stop you- adjusting his hold to your hips to still your movement. A soft whimper comes from your lips, the trip of the pill and the feeling of his cum leaking from you- already making you want to go again.

“E-easy- fucking shit- you fuckin’ milked me dry, baby- I-i needa minute…” leaning back on the couch and releasing his hold on the back of your neck, Nam-Gyu looks down at his lap.

He’s covered in a debauched mixture of his own cum and yours. He can see as it still leaks from you, creaming around his cock and adding to the milky white ring around his base.

“It’s so much…” your soft whine makes him look back to you. Face flushed, hair a mess, cute little nightgown still bunched in your hand- god you’re a dream. You pull your hand away from your clit with a jerk of your body.

“Mhm…” Nam-Gyu hums, “couldn’t help it…your pussy is crazy good.” He says teasingly with a soft laugh.

“Better than my drugs?” You question, equally as breathless, your smile matching his.

“If you were selling this pussy like you were selling drugs…..” Nam-Gyu murmurs, his thumb suddenly brushing against your cunt, tracing your swollen folds and collecting the mess between the two of you on his finger.

“Well for one I’d be upset becuase this….” He says, thumb tapping at your clit, “this pussy is priceless….” He laughs breathlessly.

You cringe at the joke and playfully slap his shoulder. Even with him still deep inside you, cock pressed up against your cervix, you banter like best friends.

“But, fuck yeah…’s better than any high I’ve ever had. And I’ve shot up designer shit in the back of Club Pentagon…” Nam-Gyu grabs your hips, shifting a bit- just trying to get more comfy on the couch. He doesn’t mean anything by it truly- his cock is so overstimulated that it hurts but he cannot bring himself to leave the warmth of your tight cunt.

When he sees how more of his cum is forced out of you, pouring out of your gaped cunt and around his cock?! Yeah…suddenly he’s ready to go again.

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills @thequeenbmulan @infinetlyforgotten @gothinlove @seaweef @lov3lycosmos

((Lmk if you wanna be on my tag list or lmk if I missed ya so I can put you on the next one!))

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strwbryhaji · 3 months ago

Text

take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you.

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no.

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world.

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end.

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head.

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

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