#length: 2-3k

[star-my]

berserk tiger - iii. interlocution

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Kim Seo-ah (OC)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 2.2k

CW: characters discuss their relationship (ew, emotions), author's questionable sense of humour leaks through, character is tipsy/has a hangover

A/N: No beta so feel free to point out typos or give concrit. Compliments are always nice. Moodboard photos are taken from Pinterest, edit is mine.

| Series Masterlist & Description | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Taglist (open): @bangtan-famiglia-net@bangtanwritershq @veronawrites

Seo-ah awoke to the sound of birds chirping, the melodic twittering floating in through the window opened a crack.

The heavy curtains were pulled, but a sliver of sunlight made its way through the slit in the middle, showcasing the fluff dancing in the air over her toes.

Covering a yawn, she got out of bed and stretched, noting the wrinkle-free blankets on the other half of the bed. Either Yoongi had made his half when he left or he’d never joined her in the first place. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The shower in the ensuite was large and had far too many spouts for one person, or even two. Lately, Seo-ah had taken to using soap when she washed her hair, figuring she could save the cost of hair products, so she hadn’t brought any with her. She helped herself to the ones on the ledge, inhaling the ginger and mint scent with a pleased hum.

Showered and dressed, she headed to the kitchen to make breakfast and found Yoongi and Jinah cleaning up the island together.

A hint of pink showed on his ears and across his cheeks, and Jinah had a far-too-familiar smugness about her. Seo-ah squeezed her eyes shut, then stepped forward with a cheery greeting.

Yoongi greeted her, seemingly relieved, and Jinah gave her nothing but a pleased smirk. “Your plate is under the dome on the table,” she nodded. “We debated saving you some since you’re such a layabed, but decided you do enough to merit a holiday, so I made you a bowl.”

Seo-ah considered calling her mischievous little sister out on her veiled statements but decided she wasn’t prepared to deal with what that would unleash.

“You could’ve woken me up,” she protested, pulling out a chair and taking the chopsticks Yoongi handed her with a smile.

“No, you deserve to sleep in, unnie. Besides, now I can catch up on knowing my brother-in-law!”

Seo-ah choked on her rice. Jinah was Agust D’s sister-in-law, and was calling him oppa. She needed a nap, or maybe more of last night’s whisky.

“I’m glad my two favourite people are getting along,” she managed.

Jinah smiled serenely and Yoongi made his escape. 

~~~

Seo-ah’s phone buzzed. A text from Yoongi.

Min Yoongi: Can you come to my office?

A moment later, another text popped up.

Min Yoongi: The one in my home, not downtown. It’s the second door on the right off the living room.

Yes, because Jinah had gotten the tour before her, busy as she was having a panic attack on the floor of her new closet, and now she had to pretend to know where everything was.

Kim Seoah: Okay, be there in a minute.

Jinah waved her goodbyes, heading off to school, which Hoseok was driving her to, and Seo-ah waited until the taillights disappeared.

She knocked lightly on the door twice.

“Come in.”

Yoongi’s office was neat and clean, with nothing superfluous about it. Shades of grey and black, with some red thrown in for colour. The carpet was a swirl of red and black, and she immediately diverted any further thoughts about the colour schemes.

Two chairs stood in front of his large wooden desk, one a soft wingback and the other an uncomfortable-looking metal. He nodded at the soft chair in a gesture to sit down, so she sat, folding her hands nervously over her knee.

Yoongi’s long fingers pushed a small rectangle across the clear space on his desk to her. “This is yours.”

She picked it up. It was a credit card. She glanced at him. 

“It’s connected to the account under your name at my bank. Use it whenever. I told you I’d pay you for the jobs you take for me, so I’ll automatically deposit your wages there.”

She opened her mouth to refuse it, then closed it again.. She’d literally married him for his money, why would she refuse it now that she was married? Besides, she would be earning it herself, with her acting challenges. She’d quit her job at the pawn shop, intending to get a job closer to her new home. She needed income somehow, for when their contract was over.

“Thank you.”

She opened her mouth to ask him about the sleeping situation, but remembered his flusteredness this morning with Jinah’s teasing, and thought the better of it. But they were married, and they should talk about it like the adults they were. But the sheer awkwardness! Asking your spouse if they were going to sleep with you, even just in the literal sense!

“Spit it out,” he said dryly, noticing her internal struggle.

He asked. Here goes nothing.  

“What were your thoughts about us sleeping together?”

The arm supporting his chin slipped off his chair’s armrest.

“It didn’t seem like you slept in our bed last night,” she mentioned, hoping to help the conversation along. Horror dawned on her. “Was I sleeping on your side?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to disturb you. We’re still somewhat strangers and I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with a man who’d just admitted he’s a criminal getting into bed with you.”

“We should have discussed this before we got married,” Seo-ah agreed, hoping her cheeks weren’t blushing as red as she felt. “And I apologise for anything my sister may have said this morning.”

“It’s alright. She reminds me of some of my men’s relationships with each other.”

“That’s good.”

“So…you want us to share a bed?”

“I think it would be the easiest thing to do to keep up the ruse, yes,” she said, praying that the blush covering her face would abate. “What if Jinah finds you sleeping on the couch one night, or wherever you slept?”

“I’ll just tell her you kicked me out because we argued,” Yoongi joked. “You have a point. As long as you’re comfortable with it.”

“I brought it up, didn’t I?”

He nodded his agreement at her point. Seo-ah had just felt the flames of awkward embarrassment fade when he turned back to her.

“About our physical relationship–we’ll be required to be somewhat tactile with each other, at least at the VIP events. Holding hands, my arm around your waist, et cetera. Will you be okay with that?”

Seo-ah let out her breath, uncertain if she was disappointed or not. “Yes, that will be fine. We’ll probably have to hug sometimes when Jinah catches us, she’ll find it weird if we never touch. I’m often touching her, just little things, you know? It’s important to me.”

“That will be fine. Is there anything else we need to settle?” “I don’t think so…oh, what are the most important things I should get when I go shopping later? The basics for surviving a society event I might get invited to?”

Yoongi frowned in thought, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure, but I know someone who will know.” Pulling out his phone, he texted someone, his thumbs flying over the keyboard.

“She’ll be here in five minutes.”

Seo-ah waited patiently as Yoongi worked in silence, glancing around the utilitarian office and out the half-window wall.

It afforded a lovely view of the porch and circular driveway, so she saw when a black car pulled in and a woman stepped out. She was wearing a blush-pink pantsuit and white stilettos, a white coat over her shoulders and a cherry-pink bag in hand.

A minute later she appeared in Yoongi’s doorway. “You called, boss?”

“You made it,” he said flatly. 

“Unfortunately for you,” she snipped, turning to a bewildered Seo-ah.

“Yah, be nice. Seo-ah, this is Kim Miran, my second-in-command’s wife. Miran, this is my wife, Seo-ah. She needs the basics for surviving elite society’s scrutiny.”

Miran hugged her quickly, stepping back to squeal in delight and clap her hands. 

“Yoongi, I take back every mean thing I said about you. Come on, Seo-ah, let’s shop until he’s broke!”

Seo-ah pulled back, looking to Yoongi for help. The traitor waved her off with a resigned smile. “I trust you to hold Miran in check, Seo-ah!”

~~~

The floorboard just outside their bedroom creaked, making Seo-ah wince as she opened the door. Sneaking in is fine as long as you don't have two dozen bags on your arms making your width impossible to quietly and efficiently move through doorways.

The soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table revealed Yoongi sitting in bed, arms crossed as he stared her down like she was a bird and he a cat. Heh, he was rather catlike, wasn’t he. Imagine calling him a cat to his face. He’d probably be offended it wasn’t a lion or something.

She giggled at the thought, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Did Miran take you drinking?”

Seo-ah tried to raise her hand to pinch her fingers together, but they were full of bags. “Just a little,” she giggled. “I didn’t make you broke though.”

He sighed and got out of bed, revealing the fact that he was wearing nothing but boxers, something that made her hastily avert her eyes to the ceiling.

He chuckled at her preserving his innocence and took one armload of bags from her. The sudden change in balance made her tip into him, sending him sprawling on the floor. She landed on him with an oof, all the air blown out of her lungs.

He stared up at her, his petal-pink lips open in surprise. Seo-ah glanced back up at his round eyes. He really did look like a cat at that moment, and she couldn’t help the giggle that sneaked out.

Yoongi moved her off of him and stood up, letting her laugh on the floor as he hauled all of her now-spilled bags to the closet. “I’ll let you sort those out tomorrow,” he announced, coming out and standing over her as she still laughed.

“I’m glad to see you’re a giggly drunk and not a talkative drunk, but I imagine you’d prefer to giggle in bed with me since you were so concerned about it this morning.” He leaned down, grabbed her wrists to pull her up and hauled her over to the bed.

Seo-ah’s giggles stopped abruptly as he manhandled her between the covers, surprisingly gentle for a big bad mobster. She stared at the strands of hair that fell over his forehead. They looked soft. Was it his spicy shampoo?

The hand that he wasn’t tucking under the sheet smoothed the loose hairs back. He paused and glanced up at her.

She ran her fingers through his hair again. It was as soft as it looked. She hoped her hair would be that soft if she kept using his shampoo. 

“Do you like this?” she asked, scarcely above a whisper. 

He nodded. She kept finger-combing it for several minutes, until he finally straightened.

“Good night, Seo-ah.”

~~~

The dull throbbing in her temples was the first thing Seo-ah noticed when she awoke. With a belaboured sigh, she pushed herself up against the headboard.

The glass of water on her nightstand caught her eye. It was still cool. She drank it in three gulps, her mouth drier than a desert.

Stepping into the closet after her shower, nothing but a towel around her, she saw all the bags stacked neatly in a row on her side as the previous night’s memories came back. With a groan, she stepped past them to pull on some old, comfy clothes before facing her husband.

Really? Petting his hair like the cat Drunk Seo-ah was reminded of? Shivering with cringe, she stepped into the kitchen. It was empty today, with her meal again under the metal dome keeping the dishes warm. The bowl of hangover soup was the first thing she reached for.

Once her dishes were washed and put away, she headed to Yoongi’s office.

“Come in.”

She peeked in cautiously.

“Good morning, Seo-ah.”

“Good morning, Yoongi. I’m sorry about last night, if I made you uncomfortable or anything.”

“It’s fine,” he brushed it off. “It’s good you got along well with Miran. She can introduce you to people in society more naturally than I can. And she’ll be a good friend, in general. I’m sure she and her husband suspect something, but no one in my ranks can know that we’re looking for rats. Just…be careful what you say.”

Seo-ah nodded. “I’ll do that. And don’t worry about last night. I was able to spill our story and she didn’t sense anything off about it.”

“Good job. Did you get everything you needed, or will you be going out again today?”

Seo-ah thought about it. “Almost everything. I’ll just be out for a couple hours if Miran is free now.”

“Alright, be safe. When you get back, we should discuss bodyguards.”

“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m back.”

He waved her off and she texted her new friend.

Kim Seoah: I thought of something I need to shop for

Kim Miran: Say less

Kim Miran: Be there in ten!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

"i have to go to sleep" i say

"i really have to go to sleep" i say again, four hours later

[raayllum]

so upon realizing some stuff i thought was happening this chapter is actually a bit later in my outline, next chapter of fanon s6 should get posted tomorrow since the couple of scenes i have left should be written pretty quickly!! here's hoping ✌

[rubberduckyrye]

I need you all to understand that:

WaveMaker is an awesome program and it actually shows you how many words you've written in a day! Please check it out I'm in love with it. Also here is my Tutorial on how to manually sync up your files so you can write your projects on any device. It also copies and pastes well into Gdocs and LibreOffice. No I will not shut up about how cool this online program thing is.

It has only been March 30th for about 5 hours and I've already written almost 3k words.

Have I--Have I found the insanity again? Can I write 12k words in a single day???? I'm almost a 4th of the way there--

[imwritesometimes]

really hate that it's taken me two nights to write 2k words 😞 but I've nearly got the first draft of the first chapter done soooo 🤷‍♀️

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

idk what it is about mcyt that gets me to write a lot but uh. the perpetuity crossovers have all been on one document so it (i’m counting them as one thing because of the same document thing and because they’re just different parts of one story) is now the longest fic i’ve ever written and it is only getting longer.

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Emmet gets a visitor. Ingo catches Akari.

Hope you buds wanted a long chapter cuz thats what you're getting

[bakatenshii]

is this the longest fic I’ll ever have written? (maybe)

[orcelito]

Me being like "OK well 7.8k is a lot compared to the other chapters

.... ykno what I'm gonna do? Make it longer"

So Sentido chapter 5 is now 8.2k. Listen I wasn't entirely satisfied with the cutoff so I added to it.

[quil12]

I'm already so many words into this chapter and I'm not even halfway done with it... it might have to get broken into two parts

[star-my]

berserk tiger - ii. contract

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Kim Seo-ah (OC)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 2.9k

CW: charcters drink sociably, mentions of criminals/criminal activities, author did exactly 0 research on Korean law

A/N: No beta so feel free to point out typos or give concrit. Compliments are always nice. Moodboard photos are taken from Pinterest, edit is mine.

| Series Masterlist & Description | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Taglist (open): @bangtan-famiglia-net@bangtanwritershq @veronawrites

“Seo-ah, are you serious?! Why would you marry a stranger?”

Seo-ah sighed, zipping up the second suitcase with ease. She hadn’t had much to pack; most of the valuables had been sold or pawned, and only the necessities were afforded.

“Look, Jinah. He’s a stranger to you, but I already know him. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced you two before, but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be in harm’s way if he turned out to be like Lee Geum. He’s wealthy and agreed to help you with your schooling, and he’s been nothing but nice and courteous to me. I could do a lot worse.”

“But you don’t even love him! If you’re doing this for my sake, Seo-ah, I’m sure we can work something out-”

“I may not love him, Jinah, but he is a good man. I like him, and I’m sure I could love him one day.”

“But what about him loving you,” Jinah pointed out.

“Are your bags packed?” Seo-ah asked, brushing her question aside. She felt guilty for lying to Jinah, who’d been her closest friend and confidant for years, but there was no way she was going to tell her she was getting married to someone she’d known for an evening. It was bad enough pretending that they’d been secretly dating for some time.

Jinah deserved to go through school happily and without misplaced guilt for making her marry someone for his money.

Jinah sighed and dragged her suitcase of things over to stand beside the two Seo-ah had packed. Three suitcases between the two of them, for the whole apartment, was kind of sad.

Seo-ah shook her head, dispelling the thoughts, and curved her lips into a half-smile.

The glare of a sun reflecting off a windshield shone through the window, alerting her that her ride was there.

“Let’s go, Jinah.”

Seo-ah carried the suitcases out to the car, where Min Yoongi was standing.

“Min Yoongi, this is my dongsaeng, Kim Jinah. Jinah, this is my husband, Min Yoongi. I’m just going to drop the key off at the landlord’s, and we can leave.”

She returned to Yoongi shaking Jinah’s hand solemnly, one side of his mouth tilted in a small smirk. “Of course, Miss Kim.” He handed her into the passenger seat, turning to offer his hand to Seo-ah. He settled in beside her in the back seat and Hoseok took off. 

They arrived at the villa in record time, and Seo-ah anxiously watched Jinah’s reaction to their new home. She seemed impressed by her surroundings, but stayed close to Seo-ah’s side.

Hoseok brought Jinah’s suitcase to a room overlooking the gardens, with a cosy natural ambiance supplied by plants, clean lines, and the wall of windows.

“Feel free to make changes to the room as suits your taste,” supplied Yoongi, casually leaning against the wall as the sisters whispered. “The remote on the table there controls the blinds, so don’t worry, you do have privacy here.”

Jinah bowed. “Thank you very much, Min Yoongi-ssi. I will be very comfortable here.”

“Good. Seo-ah, Hoseok’s brought your luggage in, if you want to unpack.” He headed down the hall to the room at the opposite end, also overlooking the gardens. Seo-ah was definitely going to have fun digging in them in the summer.

She appreciated how Yoongi inferred that she’d been there before and knew where all the rooms were, helping her further the deception to her sister, who’d followed her along like a duckling.

The door swung open to another glass-walled room, still comfortable-looking like Jinah’s, but done in darker tones. The floor-to-ceiling curtains were dark green and not pearl grey, the bedding was black and not white, and the furniture was varying shades of grey and black, with green accents dotted here and there.

Seo-ah’s suitcases stood by the foot of the bed. Yoongi opened a door on the right, remarking that he’d bought more hangers like she’d told him, so there should be enough room for her things. The other door opened a crack, revealing an ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll give you the house tour while your sister settles and we can get to know each other,” suggested Yoongi firmly, escorting Jinah out of the room. 

Seo-ah flashed him a grateful smile and took her suitcases to the closet.

The light automatically flipped on when she stepped in, and reality hit her like a ton of bricks.

The left side of the closet had rows of name brands hanging from the bars and stacked neatly on the shelves, the island in the middle was full of colour supplied by patterned handkerchiefs, reflective metal jewellery and expensive-looking watches. 

She’d somehow ignored the fact that this ruse required her to share a room with this man, share a bed- would that just be in the literal sense or the physical, as well? She should have asked. She supposed since they were legally married, and the only lie was that they were in love, Yoongi would like the benefits of having a wife he was going through so much trouble for.

Seo-ah slid down the wall, breathing quickly as her gaze flashed between the chipped edge of her suitcase and the soft row of black suit pants. 

What was she doing here? Sure, she was a decent actress, acting like everything was fine every single day, but what on earth had possessed her to think she could fool high society, some of whom were literal professionals at the skill!

What possessed Yoongi to propose to her and explain her role, for that matter? He could have hired one of his professional actress friends, which would certainly have made a more believable story to the tabloids than him marrying some nobody he’d met a week ago!

Okay, she’d done it because she was desperate, but what about him? He was rich, he could solve any problem just by throwing some won around. 

Focusing on the questions she was going to throw at him when he returned from his hosting, Seo-ah took a deep breath and stood up. 

~~~

Her row of clothes looked dismal across from his, but it was the best she could do. She wiped her hands on the back of her jeans and opened the door to her bedroom. Time to go play the part of loving wife and hope she could fool her sister.

She followed the sound of voices to the living room, where Jinah was drinking tea and smiling at Yoongi. He’d done well if Jinah had opened up that much to him already. 

The flicker of hope that she could do this burned a little brighter in her chest. 

“I’m glad to see there’s no blood on the floors yet,” she greeted them, smiling approvingly at Jinah. “You’re doing well,” she congratulated Yoongi. “Jinah took two months to warm up to my first and last boyfriend. She scared him off eventually.”

“So that’s why you agreed to marry me before you introduced me to your sister,” realised Yoongi. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t scare me. You, on the other hand-”

Jinah coughed, pretending she wasn’t laughing at her brother-in-law or at her sister’s expense. “He’s a smart one. You could’ve done worse, I suppose,” she mused. “At least he’s not Gu Taewon.”

Seo-ah rolled her eyes, relieved that everything was going well. “Is either of you hungry? It’s almost dinnertime.”

“I was planning on ordering fried chicken,” said Yoongi. 

“But from where?” asked Jinah, narrowing her eyes in a semi-teasing challenge.

He narrowed his in return. “Bb.q, of course.”

Jinah let the tension sit between them for a minute before straightening with a smile. “Good, I approve of him. Have a happy marriage, unnie, oppa.”

Yoongi glanced at Seo-ah, who shrugged. “Chicken sounds good. Honey garlic is Jinah and my go-to.”

“Noted. Excuse me.” 

He left to make the call and Seo-ah crossed the room to sit beside Jinah. “Please tell me you were nice to him.”

“Of course. I asked him about his intentions–sadly I was too late to ask before he married you–” she glared, “but he seems decent, so I’ll give you my support and best wishes for happiness. But if he hurts you, I’ll have you out of here and serving him divorce papers before you can say Agust D.”

It’s only for five years, she wanted to reassure her. It’s on a contract. I can survive five years of anything as long as you’re taken care of. I’m not so naive that I didn’t get my own copy of the contract and put it in my bank box. Everything will be okay.

“Thank you for your support, Jinah. I’m sorry I hid this from you as long as I did.”

“It’s okay, unnie. You were busy stressing about the finances. I’m glad you had Yoongi oppa to brighten up your life.”

Seo-ah smiled sadly at her. “Thank you, Jinah.”

~~~

Jinah headed to her room after the dishes were washed, leaving Yoongi and Seo-ah in the kitchen alone. 

“I usually have a housekeeper come and clean once a week, and the maid cleans up after she cooks,” said Yoongi. “You don’t have to wash the dishes yourself.”

“Oh, you have a maid. Of course. I don’t mind doing the dishes, though. It reminds me of the happy times when my whole family would do them, before my parents died.”

“If I may ask, how did they die?”

“It was a car accident. I’d scraped together my savings from my job and Jinah had contributed from her after-school job, and we sent them off on a date for their twentieth anniversary. They were on their way home when the driver behind them had an aneurysm and hit them. It was a tragedy all around.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Seo-ah. That must have been difficult.”

“I had to drop out of university to raise Jinah, but it could have been worse. Several of our neighbours took care of us until we moved to what’s now our old home, and I was nineteen so I was given custody of Jinah. It would have been worse if we’d been separated or put in a home or something. Anyways, that’s enough sad memories. Are your parents still alive?”

“No.”

The short answer was all she got. “Any siblings?”

“No. I had a brother, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in years.”

“Why did you choose me to be your wife? You’re rich, surely you know some actress…”

The small smirk appeared on his face again. “I don’t want a professional actress wife. She’d be under too much scrutiny for her own work, there’d be fans to deal with, the speculation after the contract ended…so much more mess. You…you intrigue me. We know where we stand, and I’ll admit, I like the fact that I can help you. The actresses I know are well-off in their own right, my money is pointless to them–although I’m sure they wouldn’t mind spending it.”

Seo-ah hummed, putting the final glass away in the cupboard. 

“What exactly is your job? I need an answer that’ll fly with Jinah, not just ‘I don’t actually know what my husband does, he makes money so I don’t care,’ because that isn’t me. You said you could tell me why you need me, beyond ‘business reasons,’ once I was your wife.”

Yoongi pulled out a bottle of whisky from another cupboard, followed by two glasses, and began walking wordlessly towards their bedroom. 

Seo-ah hung the dishtowel up to dry and followed him apprehensively.

Yoongi settled on the charcoal grey sofa facing the bed, the whisky on the table in front of him. He poured two glasses and handed her one once she perched on the other side of the sofa. Wow, that was cushy. She wouldn’t mind sleeping on it.

“As my wife, you are now entitled to legal protection and cannot be called on to testify against any crimes I may commit, and vice versa.”

Seo-ah swallowed, barely feeling the burn as the whisky settled in her stomach alongside the apprehension.

“I need a wife because I have a plan to execute regarding my business and the spies that are in it. You’re the perfect person to work for either side, and you’re legally removed from testifying.”

“Why would I be testifying against you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. Please do not have jumped from the frying pan to the fire.

“To everyone but you and your sister, I am known as Agust D.”

That is so much worse than I was expecting, was the first thing Seo-ah thought. “You…are Agust D, the head of Seoul’s underground?”

He nodded seriously.

Memories flashed through her mind. The faded scar on his face. The security around the villa. The shock on Hoseok’s face when he gave her his name-

“Is Min Yoongi your real name?”

He nodded at her again. 

His head tilted back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the rest of his whisky, unflinching. The glass met the glass of the tabletop with a sharp clink.

He leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa comfortably. “I say I’m the CEO of SVGA when I need a civilian business title. It’s an open suspicion that SVGA is a front for criminal activities. The NIS is always curious about SVGA. You are to be the bait that draws the rats out. You’re fresh blood, they’ll have an easy enough time pulling your records and seeing that you had financial difficulties. They’ll assume I’m extorting you or something of the kind, approach you with offers of help escaping my tyranny if you slip them information, and then you will tell me their names and I will take care of my problems.”

“So that is why I have to be a good actress?”

“Of course. Feel free to ‘slip’ when you’re in public, if you wish to have the NIS salivating after you even more.”

“When our contract ends, will I be able to testify against you then?”

His cold stare met hers. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“More importantly, how will you know if I do take the NIS up on their offer of rescuing me?”

“If this was a marriage of love, not convenience, we would trust each other,  no?”

“I suppose.”

“You haven’t yet given me any reason to mistrust you. Your sister believes your charade, which is proof enough of your skills. You’re an honourable woman. You made a promise to me, and you want the best for your sister. You won’t renege on our deal so fast.”

“You’re certainly rather sure about me. We’ve only known each other a week, you don’t know if I’ll turn you in for my freedom from associating with a known criminal and taking your money to support Jinah and me.”

What Seo-ah was quickly coming to realise was Yoongi’s signature smirk slipped across his face. “If you were going to do any of the things you’re mentioning, you wouldn’t be making me aware of the possibilities and actively making me consider my trust in you. You’re loyal, and you’ve thrown your lot in with me, for better or worse. That, in itself, is the biggest indicator that I should trust you.”

Huffing a sigh at his logic, because he wasn’t wrong but it felt like she’d lost somehow, she downed the rest of her whisky with a grimace. “I don’t know how you did it, that stuff burns.”

Yoongi’s smirk melted into a real smile, one that crinkled his eyes. “Practice, and also I can’t be a big bad mafia boss who coughs because of some whisky.”

She snickered at the image he provided.

He brushed off his pants and stood, holding his hand out to her. She looked at it, then up at him.

“Your glass.”

“Oh.” She handed it to him and he collected his from the table, leaving the room to return them to the kitchen, she assumed.

She donned her nicest pyjamas and then stood in the closet for several minutes, debating on her next action. They’d covered the topic of why they were married and what he expected from her, but she still didn’t know what they were going to do about their semi-pretend relationship in the privacy of their own home.

Shaking her head, she decided to simply go to bed and wait for Yoongi’s return so that they could continue their discussion.

Settled between the softest sheets she’d ever felt and pillowed on what felt like a cloud, she considered the evening’s revelations.

She’d willingly married a, if not the, most notorious crime boss in Seoul, simply so she’d be out of debt and he’d be free from moles. His name was Min Yoongi. What a cute name for a gangster, no wonder he’d become Agust D. His smile was cute, too. His eyes crinkled and his upper gums showed and it made her feel something warm and fuzzy inside. 

Sighing, she turned to her other side, pulling the warm duvet up under her chin. Surely he’d be back in a minute…

[ryles-comfort-room]

ok we’re on day 2 of Ryles doesn’t know what a pirate ship interior is like. Pray for me and pray for my poor beta readers who have to put up with this mess

[dancefail]

omg act 1 is so close 2 being done… 0_0 im kind of scared actually…

[amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet]

.

[peachpitfics]

Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

--------------------------------------

If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

[highvern]

Green Light

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut, hint of fluff at the end

warnings: making out, blowjob, ruined orgasm, minor breath play? (hoshi feels his dick in reader’s throat)

Length: ~3k

Note: well here we are again in 2 days later. thank you @gyuswhore for suffering with me for this. this can be read as a stand alone but is much better after reading part 1 below

series m.list: Houdini [s], Yuck [f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

First dates are something you’re well versed in.

A guise of mindless chatter over dinner, pretending to be interested in the minutia until patience runs thin and someone not so subtly confirms their roommates aren’t home. You know it, you embrace it, and you’ve done it many times.

What you aren’t used to is being tricked into a first date after already getting to the good part.

It’d been a long week of texting that led to teasing another meet up but incompatible schedules and demanding friends kept anything from coming to fruition. 

When Soonyoung asked if you wanted to watch a movie, you assumed it was just an excuse to get you back in his bed without crudely requesting a repeat. It's a Saturday night and well past appropriate hours for anything else. When he asked for your address, you assumed he was already out and was trying to be accommodating. When he said he was waiting downstairs whenever you were ready, you thought he was planning to take you back to his place which worked out because with only ten minutes to prepare, your room resembled a disaster zone you’d rather not have a witness too.

But then he drove fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of his street, and you realize maybe all your assumptions were wrong.

At a red light, the blinker’s rhythm drives you to speak up.

You whip around from the window to face him. “Are you kidnapping me?” 

“I don’t think it counts as kidnapping if you came willingly,” Soonyoung says, turning left when the signal allows.

“That doesn’t matter if you lured me under false pretenses.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch a movie, that's what we're doing.” 

“But your apartment is the other way,” you say like he isn’t aware.

“You know, they have these buildings with huge screens and all they do is play movies there. Really fascinating stuff. Oh, and look! There’s one.”

He pulls into one of the spaces near the back and throws the car in park before exiting without another word. A movie theater. You might as well be on Mars. 

Trailing behind, you stand dumbfounded while Soonyoung pays for tickets and popcorn like this is something normal to do on a Saturday night. For most people it would be. Maybe it is for him. He seems like the date type, even if looks like he rolled out of bed seconds before picking you up. 

You’re wearing sweatpants with nothing underneath for the sake of planting in his lap and watching him fawn over your boobs again, not to sit in a theater for two hours surrounded by whatever weirdos are hanging around this late on a weekend. The thick fabric doesn’t give anything away but you might as well be naked with how exposed you feel. 

Even in the dark, he keeps up the charade; eyes forward, hands to himself except when his fingers brush yours in the popcorn bucket like some corny romcom. He pays attention to the trailers while you stare like you’re witnessing a car crash playout in real time.

When the actual movie starts, Soonyoung lifts the arm rest out of the way, pulling you as close as possible with an arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the move in some cheesy stretch, just brings you into the heat of his side like it's normal. You sweat where he presses tight through your clothes. 

You don’t even know what movie is playing except there's some evil guy trying to take over the world while some other guy runs around in spandex trying to stop him and Soonyoung seems to find it fascinating. He’s choosing superheroes over getting laid. If it didn’t bruise your ego you might find the humor in it.

The theater isn’t crowded, not for a Saturday night. Only two other couples sit spread apart in the rows below. They’d have to turn 180 degrees to see you and Soonyoung and even then the high backs on the chairs would hide anything overtly scandalous. 

So you wait until the soundtrack rises to a crescendo just in case anyone becomes alert to your plans. You’ve never sucked dick in public but the idea of Soonyoung struggling to stay quiet while stretching your throat raw is too alluring to ignore. 

And with the way he spreads his thighs, it might as well be an open invitation.

Your hands start at his knee, just the barest amount of weight so he doesn’t scream like a horror movie character. The muscles jump under your nails but not a peep. You don’t even care that you’re staring at Soonyoung head on, completely abandoning the film in favor of watching for his reaction.

A tilt of your chin puts you level with that spot on his jaw you claimed last weekend. There isn’t proof you were there but the way he whined your name from a few harsh rakes of teeth is burned in your brain. He smells great and the warmth rolling of him lulls you further in until your mouth is at his neck.

The barest graze of your lips has Soonyoung jumping but he doesn’t stop you, just curls the arm around your shoulder tighter. Taking advantage, you trail soft kisses in an attempt to make him pliant. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

A languid kiss to his pulse. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re trying—oh.”

The hand at his crotch is snatched away before you can convince him to let you slip beneath the waistband.

“You’ll get us kicked out.”

“Only if you can’t stay quiet,” you argue.

Someone below shushes you two sharpley. You want to throw the bucket of popcorn at their head.

“We both know I won’t.” Soonyoung whispers into your hairline, pinning your hand beneath his against your thigh. “Just wait until later.”

“Seriously?” you scoff.

You’d leave but Soonyoung drove and you don’t want to wait in the cold for an Uber (your bank account doesn’t support the idea either). There is also the promise of getting what you want later that keeps your butt firmly planted in the worn upholstery until the credits roll. You even manage to find interest in the last twenty minutes, and are a little disappointed when the lights come up, only because Soonyoung has been holding your hand, and the stroke of his thumb atop your knuckles isn’t the worst feeling in the world.

When the lights come up and the screen freezes on the final frame, Soonyoung stays planted. Which means you stay planted because where would you go? Something about a post credit bonus scene he wants to see. Maybe he’s into edging.

When the employee tasked with sweeping the sticky, soda stained floors starts circling your row with palpable annoyance, you two finally get up and leave.

“Did you like the movie?” Soonyoung asks, making a face against the cold slapping against your faces as you exit the theater and head to the parking lot. 

“Yeah, it was fine.”

“Next time you can choose,” he says. “Superhero stuff isn’t my thing but I thought it was a safe pick.”

Next time.

Absolutely, under no circumstances, would there be a next time. Because if there is a next time then Soonyoung definitely thinks this was a date which isn’t something you do. Ever. Especially not with guys that may or may not have a tiger fetish. 

You open your mouth to correct whatever silly fantasies are swirling together in his head but stop short. Maybe it's his fingers knotting themselves back between yours or the optimistic smile splitting his face but it feels cruel to crush something so innocent on the asphalt like a cigarette bud under your heel. He’ll figure out your game eventually. No point in racing him towards the conclusion before he’s ready. 

At the far corner of the parking lot, away from any prying eyes or ears, he crowds you into the side of his beat up Jeep. 

“So… it’s later.” His eyes lock on your mouth, eager to indulge in what you offered so readily earlier like you haven’t changed your mind. 

You haven’t but he doesn’t have to know that. 

“Yeah, kinda tired now.” You feign a yawn to hide a smirk at the drop in his features.

“Really?” he drops but tries not to be too obvious. “I can take you home if you want.”

“Yeah, unless,” his ears perk up at the tone. “There's something I should stay awake for.”

There is. It's heavy against your thigh where he has you pinned and makes your mouth water.

Getting into the backseat has you feeling like a teenager again. Clumsy with an elbow bent at an odd angle and your legs tangled as you slip over the center console. The floor is a mess of clothes and other random shit you don’t bother taking a closer look at because Soonyoung’s lap makes a decent seat.

You’re folded in half just to prevent getting a concussion because the roof is low but it's a good excuse to bite along that spot on Soonyoung’s neck that's been tempting you all night. It tastes like satisfaction. 

The cab is silent except for the sound of kissing with too much tongue and all the noises he eagerly supplies like he wants you to make fun of him. Breathy whines and sharp whimpers as he gropes your ass. A hand aids in grinding you against his crotch while the other slips up your sweater.

“You haven’t been wearing a bra this whole time?” he cries.

“Nope,” you hum, nipping at his earlobe to feel his cock twitch against your ass. “Wanna know what else I’m not wearing?”

Something along the lines of ‘I’m gonna pass out’ comes out in a rush as he rushes to discover how wet you’ve been since he picked you up. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans from the slip of your folds across his fingers. 

“Should have let me suck your dick inside.”

“I know.” 

“Would you have let me?”

“I would have fucked you in that theater if I knew you weren’t wearing panties, good god.” 

A shift of hips lets you pull his cock out from the confinement of his pants. You can’t really see much but the outline with how dark it is, but he’s hard as steel and leaking. Your mouth waters for a taste.

Getting to your knees on the floor proves more challenging than it should. There’s no room so you're forced to balance between kneeling and crouching with a bony knee digging into your ribs. The bathroom would have been far better for this, consequences be damned. Too late now.

“Your car is too small for this,” you say before taking a quick lick at the swollen head peeking through your fingers.

“Never — shit — had any complaints before.”

“Do you fuck a lot of girls in here?” 

He curls in half on the next squeeze, like he might cum already. A reply fizzles on his lips for a few seconds but every time he gets settled to answer you up the stakes; tapping his cock against your tongue until a fresh taste of precum rewards you, raking your nails over his thigh, jerking him off into your mouth. Soonyoung doesn’t blink in fear he’ll wake up and it’ll all turn out to be a dream.

When Soonyoung looks on the verge of spontaneous combustion, you let him speak. 

“Why?” he sighs. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

The idea of him fucking other girls flashes a bolt of something in your veins. Annoyance he’s even capable of thinking of anyone else while you’ve got his dick in your hand, maybe. Jealousy isn’t something a guy you’ve hooked up with once should even be able to hint at. 

“Tell me when you’re close.” The playful tease is long gone from your voice. “And not when you’re already cumming or you’ll never see TamTam again.”

Eyes squeezed tight, he releases another harsh groan. This time to the roof because you’re already tonguing against the raised vein on the side of cock. “Fuck, okay. I can do that.”

You swallow him back down easily. Something in his tone stokes the desire to break him; make him cry from getting his dick sucked in the back of his car in an empty parking lot like a loser.  It gets you wetter knowing how eager Soonyoung would satisfy that urge if you bothered asking. 

He squirms when your nose meets the wisps of hair at his base, cock wedge deep in your throat because you like to show off and know he’ll worship the ground you walk on for it.

“Holy shit.” 

One of his hands sneaks along the back of your neck. Just the weight, probably for his own comfort more than anything else. The idea of him fucking your throat makes you clench. 

You tell him as much when you come up for air.

“You can’t just say shit like that.” Soonyoung moans with a rut through your fist. “Fuck.”

“Why not?”

The innocence in your voice is beyond deceitful. You could probably walk him straight into cumming his pants with words alone. But you wait for an answer while lapping at the tip like it’s candy, staring right up at him through wet lashes. 

“Because,” he winces, hips bucking up from another dig of your thumb. “Your mouth—hmmm.”

You give your thighs a break by rushing up into his space for a kiss. He isn’t shy from taste his own spend in your mouth, hands hot up the front of your shirt once again now that the angle allows. Cruel for the sole purpose of seeing him crumble, you tug off your top and rub his cock against your nipples until he paws at the seat for a crumb of comfort.

“Fuck, oh my god. Where did you—”

He only trails off when you bring his hand to your throat, waiting for him to take firmer hold. You see the light leave his eyes. Mind blank because the offer is too sweet to comprehend. 

You suck him back into your mouth, slowly working down until the curve of his hand circles the bulge in your throat. The odd angle doesn’t lend any comfort but you blink away the dampness at your eyes because Soonyoung is rambling again and its music to your ears.

“Oh! —Oh, shit. That's, wow.” he pants with a gentle squeeze. You aren’t a fan of being choked under regular circumstances but something about how appreciative he is encourages you to treat him with uncharacteristic indulgence. 

“Okay okay, shit, I’m close.”

But not after what he’s put you through tonight.

His hips curl up in a failed attempt as you pull away, desperate to keep the heat of your mouth for a few more seconds to no avail. The only relief you grace him with is a tight squeeze at the head just in case he was closer than he let on. 

You sit up and wipe away the mess of drool and precum from your chin, reveling in the open mouth shock Soonyoung appraises you with. “You can take me home now.”

“But…” he makes a pointed gesture to his cock, soaked and painfully hard in his lap. Maybe you’d feel bad for him, but that's only if he didn’t deserve what you’re doing.

“Call one of those other girls that doesn’t complain to take care of it.”

The drive back to your apartment feels infinitely long in the thick silence. Soonyoung’s eyes are all over your body, probably trying to gauge just how pissed you are. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. So you stay quiet and find entertainment by picking at the nonexistent dirt under your nails. 

“Well…this was fun?” Soonyoung supplies as he pulls up to the curb in front of your door.

You don’t even respond. A click of the seatbelt and latch of the door announcing your exit as you beeline for the stairs.

You want to stick to your guns and let him suffer for the comment earlier with blue balls. But you also want to drag him into your room and punish him by proving you’re the best he’ll ever have. You only manage to make it two steps from the car before the latter part wins. 

Spinning around, you throw the door open with enough force to startle Soonyoung. “Are you coming?” 

“Really?” 

“Unless you wanted to go hom—” you turn away. 

“Nope, let's go.” He doesn’t seem to believe the offer. But disbelief doesn’t keep him from jumping up at the offer, cock still straining against his sweatpants and the seatbelt is off with the next blink.

He rounds the hood swiftly, corralling you up the few steps that lead to the front door in haste to finish what started in the back seat. You trip in your own eagerness, lips welcoming his with a lewd lick at the seam that would make your elderly neighbor keel over.

“Soonyoung,” you hum. 

“Hmmm,” he growls into the kiss, pressing you flat against the front door. “Love when you say my name like that.”

“Good to know,” you laugh. “But you left your car on.”

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