Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You met Nam-gyu in high school.

Eighteen, about to graduate, and there he was. Perched haphazardly in the seat behind yours, teeth catching on his lip as he pushed the front of his chair off of the floor with his heels. His palms clasped tightly at the edge of his desk, a pencil caught between the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand. You kept your head down, tried to ignore the way his uniform shirt tugged itself out of the confines of his crumpled pants.

The two of you followed each other through the years. When high school merged into college, and college became careers, he was always there. From the very start, your relationship was something that neither of you were satisfied with. The two of you picked up a sexual relationship quickly, often running to the other in the wake of bad news or a breakup. It persisted through relationships. As soon as the romance fizzled out, you came together. A series of motions, much like machinery moving. Fluid, solid, a guarantee in the face of tragedy.

That was exactly where you found yourself in the here and now. Twenty-three, having just gotten your first real career. This was not coping, this was not pain taken out on each other. It  was pleasure, a celebration of the job you’d acquired for yourself not long after getting your degree. Nam-gyu’s grip on your hips, the way he nosed along your neck, it was ecstasy. Better than any drug you two had shared in the early years of college, before you’d decided you needed to stay clean and focus on the future.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the future, you always came back to him. Your constant. No man compared to what Nam-gyu could do, the way he was able to unravel you on nothing but his fingers and dirty promises from the very beginning. If you believed in soulmates, you’d believe he was yours. Regardless of circumstances, changes of pace, he was there. Your mind always drifted back to him, skin always itched for his touch.

You always came right back to this. To your back against the disgruntled sheets of your bed, fingers digging into the fabric beneath you as you panted. Nam-gyu hadn’t even done anything yet. You were both still dressed, but you had never been very good at keeping yourself whole whenever he was above you.

You admitted to him once, in your second year of college, that you wanted something more. Something that wasn’t just his cock inside you, meaningless pet names whispered into the room around you. You’d sat him down on the edge of your bed, hand wrapped around his wrist and eyes drifting to the floor as you said it. Told him you loved him.

He had laughed, but the sound was more breathless and surprised than genuine hilarity. He’d tugged his wrist from your grip, paying no mind to the pained sound you made in response, and dug his nails into the fabric of his ripped jeans. Twenty years old, so sure you had found the one, and he had done nothing but laugh in your face and tell you that you didn’t know what you wanted. You remembered it clear as day, as he nipped and lapped at a spot in the crook of your neck. At one point, you’d worried about hickeys - Warned him not to leave him, your parents were so strict that they’d kill the both of you. At this point in life, freshly employed and a month into living alone, you didn’t care much at all about it.

You remembered the way he stood as you reached for him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. The way he stepped away, mouth agape as he searched for a response. This was before he’d grown out his hair, but he still kept the same nervous tic that he had now - Pushing his hands through his hair, catching his fingers in the strands and tugging away at the locks tangled around the appendages. 

He’d insisted, once more, that you didn’t know what you wanted. 

And then he’d left.

He came back, though. Neither of you could stay away for long. After he got tired of forgotten faces and meaningless names, you woke to him on your doorstep. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t invited him inside, found yourselves where you are just now.

Nam-gyu’s hands roam on your abdomen, fingers pushing at your shirt. It rides up until it pools above your tits, and you shudder as the cool air of your bedroom hits your chest. You were already in your pajamas, Nam-gyu’s visit having been a surprise, which leaves you completely bare once your shirt is pushed up. You instinctively lift your hands above your head, body feeling like fire all over as Nam-gyu’s mouth moves down, slowly. So slowly, it’s almost like torture.

His lips catch on your right nipple. His tongue darts out, laps at the sensitive, perked bud of your nipple. And then he sucks it into his mouth, a motion that is so perfect you can’t help but let out a full, unabashed moan. The fire beneath your skin seems to burn even hotter as one of his hands finds your left tit, groping and kneading at it while his mouth works on your nipple. His tongue swirls so perfectly over it, oddly delicate in his motions. Nam-gyu is never gentle, never delicate. This must be a special occasion, something brought on by the celebratory manner of the night.

His teeth graze against your nipple, and the motion sends you reeling. Your back arches. You’re suddenly breathless as he fully sucks now, tongue lapping at the nipple to pair. “Ah, fuck-” You breath out into the room around the two of you. Wind blows in from the open window to your left, something you would be worried about if you actually gave a shit. In all honesty, you didn’t care much at all if people heard you. They could just keep walking. You deserved this. You worked your ass off through college to get this nursing job, took out so many loans on top of the ones left from the death of your parents last year. 

Nam-gyu’s mouth pops off of your nipple. He nips at the sensitive skin of your tit, lapping over it with his tongue. Your hands twist into the bedsheets beside you. You’re so horny, so needy, but Nam-gyu was a goddamn tease. He always had been, from the beginning of your friends-with-benefits relationship. Always taking his time, unraveling you with his mouth and hands in as many ways as he could before he finally fucked you or fingered you or ate you out until you saw stars.

His hands take in what his mouth doesn’t. Ghosting touches of fingertips trail down your sides, take hold of your hips. Fire catches in the wake of the touches, shivers overtaking your body despite the heat rising to your skin. It’s impossible to handle the throb of your pussy and the way your panties stick to you from how wet you are. 

“God, please.” You breathe it out, swallowing thickly after your words. Your throat clicks behind the motion. Nam-gyu suckles at a spot on your stomach, teeth nicking at it before he leaves a kiss there. It’s rare that he kisses any part of you during these exchanges. Far too intimate, too domestic for his taste. Nam-gyu is not a loverboy. He’s rough, unfiltered, and detached. He loves the fuck but feelings. He smiles against your skin, tongue darting out to lick at the fresh purple spot beside your belly button.

There’s the sound of a snicker spilling from his lips. It’s only partially muffled by your stomach against his mouth. “Please?” He drifts further down, so slowly. His lips ghost the waistline of your panties. His hands on your hips tighten as you try to rut up against his face, in desperate need of friction and just anything to get off. 

You’re unable to verbally respond as one of Nam-Gyu’s hands drifts down to thumb at the waistline of your panties, matching the touch of his lips still there. He teases there for only a moment before his deft, skilled fingers are slipping into the fabric and tugging ever so gently. You shiver as your panties are dragged down your thighs, catching around your knees. You try to spread your legs, try to silently urge for more, but the panties still caught around your thighs don’t allow such motions. 

“Be patient.” He mutters, but he should know that’s practically impossible for you. You’ve never been patient, never really been able to wait for whatever he wants to give. You do it all the same, but that doesn’t mean you’re good at it. 

Nam-gyu pushes himself to sit up, kneeling on his haunches as he finally, fucking finally pulls your panties fully off of your legs. You’re more than eager to let him do it, lifting your feet from where they’re planted on the bed as the fabric slides down your thighs. He just smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you. He always has. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been his ever since that day you met him in high school. Or maybe he did know that, he just didn’t show it.

He tosses your panties somewhere, no real care for where they land. You don’t care much, either. You’re too focused on the throb in your pussy, the wetness that’s now seeping onto your messy bedsheets. Nam-gyu’s smirk forms into something more like a smile, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a second. His heated eyes take in your form - Sweaty, impatient, and trying to hold back your whines as he eye-fucks you right there. One of his hands moves closer to your pussy. He holds it there for a moment, just perfectly ghosting along your clit, before he finally touches you. And God, is it the best thing you’ve ever felt. You moan, clenching around nothing as his thumb rubs at your clit.

“Eager, huh?” He slides a finger into you then, his pointer finger. His thumb stays on your clit, rubbing circles into it as he sets a pace with his finger, fucking into you with just the one for a moment. He adds a second one not long after. You rut down into the sensation of it, of being filled but not quite enough, of being touched. “You’re so wet.” And you know it’s the truth, because you can hear it. The way his fingers squelch as they move in and out of you.

Something about that makes it even hotter. The fact you’re so wet that you can hear it. Nam-gyu definitely doesn’t seem to mind it, either. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing him and the way he impatiently fingers you. His cock is straining hard against the zipper of his jeans. You know he’s hard under there, probably so hard it hurts. That thought just sends you even closer to your growing orgasm, the tension in your gut swirling and worsening as you get closer and closer.

You can’t help but let out moans and whimpers now, tits bouncing as you arch your back. Your body and mind are screaming for more, for him to go faster. Nam-gyu does no such thing. Instead, he abruptly pulls his hand away, and you’re left clenching around nothing once more. “Fuck, fuck, Nam-gyu - Please.” You’re not above begging. He fucking knows that. He loves when you beg. He loves watching you get desperate. That’s exactly why he’s doing this right now. He wants you to be desperate, he wants you to plead. 

“Please what? Use your words.” Fuck. It’s so hard to use your words when you’re like this, horny beyond belief and one step from unravelling from his touch. Nam-gyu does not touch you, though. He doesn’t even act like he’s going to. He stares down at you, a cocky smile on his face as he waits. Because he’s not giving you anything until you comply, and he knows you’ll listen. 

You breathe out, the sound shaky as it leaves your lips and enters the room. “Please,” Your tongue darts out to lick your lips and you swallow thickly. It’s so hard to speak, to even think. All you can think about is how badly you want him, whatever he’ll give you. You’ve always been willing to take everything he’ll give and nothing more, and he knows that. That’s why he keeps coming back, probably. “Please. Touch me. Fuck me. Anything.” Your voice is raw, rough around the edges. You sound thoroughly fucked out and he’s barely done anything yet. But he’s always been able to do that. Always been able to take you apart, piece by piece, so easily. One touch and you’re puddy in his hands, a vessel for him to do as he pleases.

Nam-gyu smiles wider, breathing out an amused laugh. His pupils are blown wide, so large you can barely even see the brown of his irises behind them. He leans down, then, repositioning himself to be how he was before. Face right above your pussy, hands on your hips. He takes home there so easily, sticking his tongue out to lick at your clit. The motion sends electric sparks through you and you gasp, grip tightening impossibly more at your bedsheets. Nam-gyu’s tongue moves masterfully. He knows exactly what you like. He knows you so well, probably better than he knows himself. And the same can be said for you. You know everything about him. More than you know yourself.

He licks along your folds, pausing to circle along your hole every now and then. Every time, you brace for impact - for his tongue to enter - but it never does. It just teases there, along your folds and around your hole and then back up to your clit. So intentional in his motions. He always has been. Always knowing just how to tease you, keep you going for longer. You hate it.

Nam-gyu’s tongue returns to your clit. He doesn’t move it away this time, just licking and sucking at it. Sounds leave you steadily now, a symphony of just how he makes you feel. It only spurs him on, you know that. No complaints from you. He’s so good at this. He always has been. So skilled even before meeting you. You tried not to think about where that skill came from, all the women he’s had who weren’t you. All the women he will ever have who are not you, because you are not what he wants. Moreso, commitment is not what he wants. He’s made that clear.

That’s just fine. You’ll lay here, with his face between your legs, for as long as he wants. You’ll let him leave and wait patiently for him to come back, high off his ass or so drunk he stumbles his way through the front door. It doesn’t matter. You’ll wait, and you always have.

You’re happy right now. In ten minutes, when he’s done and you’re pulling your shirt back over your head, you won’t be. But you are happy now, as your orgasm grows and the warmth under your skin burns as hot as a fire. You’re happy as your thighs clench around his head, hands come down to scratch at his hair. Your fingers take purchase there as you breathe his name out into the room around you. He hums against the heat of your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips against his face at the sensation of it. The vibration right there, right at your clit, is so perfect. Almost ecstasy. Almost. 

Almost as good as the burn of a line in your nose, or a pill crunched between teeth. Almost there. You’re stuck chasing the feeling of it, stuck chasing your favorite type of high - The one you get just like this, with Nam-Gyu in between your legs and your fingers tangled in strands of hair. It’s not always like this. In fact, it’s rarely like this. Usually he’ll finger you or fuck you. It’s rare for him to get down and lick away at you until you’re coming apart from just his tongue against you, his name on your lips as you cum on his tongue and nothing else.

He must be in a good mood. Nam-Gyu has only eaten you out a handful of times, and each time has been for special occasions or when he’s been in especially good moods. You don’t want to ask what’s made him so happy, though. You don’t want to, because you probably won’t like the answer. He gets this happy when he’s gotten a new girlfriend, or when he’s gotten a new job, or surfing an especially good high. It’s too much of a gamble to know which one of those things is, too much of a gamble to be told that you’re the other woman yet again. It’s shitty to let him make you the other woman. It’s shitty to be his mistress. 

You’ve never been the best person in the world, though. Not in the slightest. You’ve never been the most morally correct. And when it comes to Nam-Gyu, you’re practically blind to ethics. What’s technically okay is thrown out the window when he comes around, when your phone vibrates with a text from him or he’s suddenly on your doorstep. 

Despite that, it’s easier to not know. Easier to not be told straight that you’re the other woman. It’s easier to keep yourself together as you ride his tongue if you don’t know about it. If it’s an unsaid truth. So you’ll keep it that way. You won’t ask about why he was so willing to go down on you when he’s pulling away and straightening out his work uniform. You’ll just take it. Just take him.

The tension in your abdomen is growing. Nam-Gyu sucks and licks dutifully at your clit, knowing just how you like it despite having only done it a few times. You can’t help yourself as your grip in his hair turns white-knuckled and desperate, nails scraping against his scalp. It must hurt, but if it does, Nam-Gyu doesn’t let it show. He just moans against you, and the tension snaps. Your thighs shake as your orgasm crashes over you and his name slips out of your lips on instinct. He hates when you moan his name in bed, especially when you cum. He’s told you that before. But you can’t stop it, you can’t stop yourself from letting it out.

It’s a step up, at least, from what you want to say. You want to say you love him, but he hates that even more. You did it only once, it had been an accident. Even still, it pissed Nam-Gyu off so badly that he left immediately.

You learned not to do it again. You didn’t know why he had so many problems with commitment, but it was okay. You’d rather have him in the way you do than not at all.

It was okay, because you’re riding out the waves of your orgasm as it crashes over you. It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. Beads of sweat bubble on the surface of your warm skin, and your fingers tighten even more as you cum on Nam-Gyu’s tongue. Your thighs squeeze around his head, head thrown back. You mutter gibberish, trying to distract from the way his name just left your mouth. He noticed it, you know he did. But he says nothing. He doesn’t fight or yell.

Once you’ve rode it out and you’re stuck in the aftershocks of it, Nam-Gyu raises himself from between your legs. He lifts a hand from your waist, wiping away at the wetness that surrounds his mouth. He’s thoroughly a mess, pupils still wide and hair disheveled, tossed every which way. His cock is still hard behind his jeans, but Nam-Gyu doesn’t move to even take his jeans off, to ask you to serve him in any way. He just sits there, perched on his haunches as he licks at the wetness on his lips and wipes it from his cheeks. He sits there and stares down at you, breathing heavily. Almost in tandem with the own desperate rise and fall of your chest. 

Your thighs tremble. Your legs fall to lay flush against the bed, and the arms holding you up give out. Exhaustion overtakes your limbs fully now. Your fingers twitch as they fall from Nam-Gyu’s head, hands stuck in the air for a moment before they fall to your sides. You’re too fucked out and blissed to think to be embarrassed at being fully naked while Nam-Gyu is still fully dressed and hard.

Your eyes slip closed, body fighting off sleep now that you’re in the aftereffects of your orgasm. Being eating out is always amazing, probably one of your favorite ways to cum, if not your most favorite. It’s a shame Nam-gyu usually thinks of it as too intimate to do. He’s good at it, and you love it. If only he’d let down his walls, but he’ll never do that. It’s been five years of knowing him, and, at the end of the day, Nam-Gyu is still the cold teenager you met at the back of the classroom that day. The one who refuses to open up.

You can respect it. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.

As your breathing levels out, there’s shuffling at the foot of the bed. You crack an eye open to peer at the source of the noise, and you’re surprised to be met with the sight of Nam-Gyu pushing himself off the bed. He’s crawling backwards awkwardly, and his feet hit the floor at the same time as your eyes wrenching themselves fully open to eye the sight. Usually he at least asks for a handjob in return, especially if he’s eaten you out. But here he is, crawling haphazardly off of your bed and making for the door.

“You’re leaving?” You’re sad about it. You shouldn’t be. This shouldn’t be a surprise. He almost always leaves, no strings attached. But this is different. He’s not even asking for something in return. He made you cum and now he’s just leaving, cock still straining behind his jeans. Nam-Gyu pauses at your words, halfway to the door. You push yourself to sit up, crossing your legs so you’re sat criss-cross in the middle of your bed.

He doesn’t look at you as he sighs, hands shoving themselves into the back pockets of his black work jeans. “Yeah. Bye.” He breathes the words out, hesitates before taking two more steps towards the door. Half of you is sad, half of you is angry. He’s being weird. You’re agitated. You feel like you have a right to be. He always leaves, but never like this. Never without cumming first.

You’re sure of it, then. It’s another girl. This is his goodbye.

You nod tersely, even though Nam-Gyu can’t see you. There’s a very potent sour feeling deep inside of you, something digging its claws into your heart. “Bye, Nam.” Despite yourself, you allow your nickname for him to slip out. He pauses again, heaves out a heavy breath. And then he leaves.

You listen to his footsteps until they fade fully. It’s only then that you sigh and break yourself out of the self-pity that’s already welling up. The insecure thoughts of not being good enough to even make him cum anymore. You’d made peace with him not sticking around, not wanting anything serious. You hadn’t made peace with this, with not making him at least cum. This was a new situation, one you never had time to make peace with. One you probably won’t make peace with, because not being able to make him cum is a full rejection. At least, even without commitment, you had some part of him.

Your shoulders are shaking before you know it. A tear escapes your eye, and then another, and then another. They burn as they rise to the surface of your irises, sting as you blink them out and they drift down your face. They leave a tacky trail in their wake, sticking heavily against the skin of your cheeks.

Sniffling, you search around for your discarded shirt. It smells like him, just barely. The cologne he wears, something stereotypically manly. The distant smell of cigarettes. You don’t know why it smells like him, maybe just from where his hands ghosted over it. Maybe from where he laid over you. It was wrong. But fuck it, you weren’t going to complain. It smelled like him, like the only good thing you had in life. Like the man you couldn’t live without.

You slip it over your head as more tears drift down your face at the imagined rejection. He may come back, he usually does. But what if, this time, he doesn’t? What if this is really it?

The thoughts plague you as you curl into a ball on your mattress, amongst bedsheets that smell like sex. Like you. Your hands clutch at a pillow, bringing it to your chest. Your eyes slip shut and you imagine it’s him, you imagine it’s Nam-gyu finally sticking around for once. Finally being there for you, after so many times of leaving without saying goodbye.

You fall asleep like that, still partially naked and reeking of sex.

Chapter Text

You don’t know how you let him do it, but you’d allowed Nam-gyu to convince you to go to a club for the first time ever. That occasion just so happens to be tonight, and it had come up much quicker than you were adequately equipped to deal with. It’d taken weeks for Nam-gyu to convince you of attending, but you’d finally given in. He knew you could never say no to him. He just had the unique ability to wrap you around his finger and stretch your boundaries beyond repair.

Now that the night’s upon you, you’re still stuck in conflict. You’ve had so long to tell your parents about this outing, or to come up with a separate excuse. You’ve had so long to plan an outfit. You’ve had so long to change your mind and tell Nam-gyu you don’t want to go anymore.

You haven’t done any of those things. As of now, you’re pacing your bedroom and sweating absolute bullets as you psych yourself out over this. You’re not even the legal age to go to a club, but Nam-gyu had promised to hook you up with a fake ID. You tried not to think too hard about the implications of that. Nam-gyu, in the short time of knowing him, has managed to ruin you. Once a goody-two-shoes, the ideal daughter who makes good grades and doesn’t get involved with drinking or drugs or boys. Now, you’re destroyed. At the face of it, you make good grades and spend plenty of time studying. On the down low, all your time studying is actually spent causing trouble with Nam-gyu. He sneaks you past his extremely scary parents and the two of you hole yourselves in his room to get drunk off of soju and smoke cigarettes. You never knew how he got his hands on those things, but now that he’s promised to get you a fake ID, you think you’ve figured it out.

This is much more than hiding out in his room and pretending to study, though. This is going to a club, pretending to be two years older than you actually are. This is trying to get that past your parents. It’s much easier to pretend to be studying when you’re going somewhere where no one can catch you. A club is a public place. A club is a place where you can easily be caught.

You pace back and forth beside your bed, heart racing behind your ribcage. One thing at a time would probably make this whole situation a lot easier. First things first, outfit. Yes. Outfit.

You approach your closet slowly, reaching a hand out once you’re close enough and wrenching the door open. Only problem with outfit? None of your clothes exactly scream clubbing. Your parents always ensure your clothes are conservative, no inch of cleavage or illicit leg allowed. Well… You’ll just have to make it work. Nam-gyu is going to stick out like a sore thumb in his graphic tees and ill-fitting jeans, and you were going to stick out due to your oddly formal clothing selection. It’s fine. At least the two of you would go through it together.

Heaving out a breath, you reach a hand out to file through your clothing selection. Shirts, skirts, pants, jackets, old school uniforms. You blindly grab pieces of clothing out, tossing them onto your bed behind you. First step of curating an outfit is actually finding clothes. The next is putting them together. One step at a time.

Once you have effectively stripped your wardrobe of everything remotely good, you turn on your heel to survey the damage. Your bed is a mess of sweaters, the shortest skirts you could find, turtlenecks, and jackets. You take a step towards your bed, full of messy clothes. Your eyes race across the presented selections, catching occasionally on something that may be presentable. 

You reach out and grab a black turtleneck. A little warm, but fashionable. You’ll cope with the heat. Next up is a black skirt, pleated. It’s longer than you’d like, coming down to your mid-thigh when you put it on, but it’ll have to do. When you pair the clothing selections with a pair of tights and some black boots, it’s the best you’re going to get out of your closet. You slip the chosen items on and hope you don’t look like a fool as you grab your phone from the nightstand. Nam-gyu promised to provide money, too. Again, you don’t know where he gets it. You don’t think you want to know.

With that, you sigh and approach your bedroom door. Your heart stutters behind your chest. You really shouldn’t be doing this, but you’re already running late. You promised to meet Nam-gyu at Club Pentagon at… Well, now. You haven’t even left your bedroom yet. You need to hurry this up. Even still, the feat of exiting and facing your parents is treacherous. You lean your head against the cool wood of your door, dread pooling deep in your stomach as you consider it. A late-night study session will have to do as an excuse. It’s not like they’ll ever really know. You’re not dressed slutty or anything - You physically cannot dress slutty.

The hand not clutched onto your phone reaches for your doorknob. Fingers clasp around the cool metal, and then your wrist twists. You have to force yourself to open the door and exit it, shutting it as quietly as possible behind you as you step out into the upstairs hallway. Just in case you second-guess yourself on your trip to your parent’s bedroom, and then you can dart right back inside your room and they will never even know you left.

You do second-guess yourself, but you don’t dart back to your room. You tremble with anxiety as you approach the cracked bedroom door, but your shaking hands still reach out to push the door open. Your parents look up at the sudden motion, father’s eyebrow cocking under his glasses. Your mother, on the other hand, has seemingly been woken up by the squeak of the door. She turns over in bed, eyes squinted as she regards your form in the doorway. Your father clears his throat, shuts the book he’d been reading. Some history book. Something boring.

“I uh… I was bored, so I think I’m going to go study for a little bit. It’s never too early to get started on college studying, y’know?” You’d been dumb enough to somehow forget that it was the summer break between your final year of high school and first year of college. Even still, it was a viable excuse. Plenty of kids study through the summer to get a jump on work before they start again. You’re just… Not one of those kids. You’re pretending to be, but you haven’t been one of those kids in the past few months of knowing Nam-gyu. 

Your mom hums out a noise, eyes flicking up to stare at your dad. He’s the one who will determine whether you can go out. Your words may have sounded like a statement, but everything is a question until he allows it. He makes the rules in this home. He seems to think for a moment before he nods minutely. “Sure. Study hard, kid.” And you’d be lying if those words didn’t send a rush of excitement through you. You nod, a short motion of your head, before your hand comes to pull the door back closed. Your parents murmur to each other, muffled words that you can’t be bothered to interpret. You’re free.

You practically skip down the stairs and out the front door. The walk to the club is a breeze of club-goers and drunks, the bright lights of Seoul guiding your way. 

You hear the thumping of the bass at the club before you see the building itself. Then, suddenly, there it is - Club Pentagon. An up-and-coming place at the moment, having just opened a few months prior. Apparently some rapper is performing there tonight, which is why Nam-gyu wanted to come so bad. He really likes this guy’s music. You have no clue about it, you just went to make Nam-gyu happy.

He’s there, on the sidewalk in front of the building, trying to steer clear of the line preceding the front door. He also looks effectively agitated as you finally approach, but it hardly lasts once you’re there in front of him. “Took you long enough.” He grumbles, digging around in his jean pockets for something. A moment later, he’s presenting it. Your fake ID. He shoves it into your hands before you can even look at it, head whipping around quickly.

“Memorize the birthday. I changed nothing else to keep it easy for you. Just remember the birthday. They’ll ask you about it.” Nam-gyu explains it so effortlessly, like he’s done this a million times. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s been to this club before, a million times. Maybe he’s used his fake ID a thousand times. Who knows. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to get anymore wrapped into illegal things than you have to for this. All you do is take the ID and do as he says, eyes staring down the birthday on it as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the line.

The line is long, but the period of waiting in it seems to breeze by as you people-watch. The couple in front of you seem to be in a heated argument, huffing at something the other says every now and then just to show they clearly don’t mean the words bitten at each other. The group of giggling girls behind you are loud and obnoxious and keep repeating how they needed this. It’s impossible to tune these people out, too, which just makes it even more annoying. You cross your arms and shift on your feet as they ache from standing on the sidewalk for far too long. Nam-gyu is oddly intimate in his motions with you, arm remaining around your shoulders and hand rubbing at the shoulder it rests on. It’s weird. You don’t think you hate it.

In all honesty, you’d been growing feelings for him since the first time you two had met. Hangouts at his house were always tense with something that didn’t feel entirely one-sided. Every conversation seemed to be weighted with something that Nam-gyu didn’t hold when he talked to anyone else. You didn’t know what to think of that. 

The two of you reach the door sooner than you expect, considering the line wrapped around the building. The bouncer takes your ID and Nam-gyu’s as well, but the man eyes you much heavier than Nam-gyu. It makes sense. Nam-gyu seems to be in his element, donned in black jeans and distressed sneakers alongside a black t-shirt and a jean jacket. He’s been growing his hair out recently, too. He’s edgy. He fits in so naturally here. You, on the other hand, decidedly do not. You’re curled in on yourself as the bouncer switches his gaze between you and your fake ID. Your hands come down to unconsciously tug at the bottom of your shirt, an anxious tic that is surely a dead giveaway of the fact you do not belong here.

The bouncer shoots his gaze to Nam-gyu, who is cocky as ever. He’s so sure the two of you are getting in. The worker can very clearly tell it’s a fake ID in his hand. Even still, he sighs and returns the IDs. “Have fun.” And with that, he’s stepping to the side to allow the two of you to enter. Nam-gyu nods, sending a very pleased smile in the man’s direction before leading you into the club.

The bumping of the club music just gets louder when the two of you step over the threshold. A dirty-mouthed rapper takes the stage, lights following him as he spits lines about fucking women and being good with his mouth. His bright purple hair flashes in the lights of the stage. He’s dressed flashy, fingers lined with metal and clothes so bright they’re almost blinding.

“There he is! Thanos.” Nam-gyu points enthusiastically at the figure on the stage, a bright glint in his eyes. You have no clue who this man is, and you have no interest in his music. His voice sounds vaguely familiar, so Nam-gyu must have played it for you at some point, but you don’t fully know. It’s not exactly your style of music, and you’re surprised it’s Nam-gyu’s style. He’s normally more of an alternative type of guy. Rock is his shit, not rap.

But you don’t burst his bubble. He just looks so happy to see Thanos on stage that you can’t bear to say anything to him about his sudden change in music taste. You just smile and nod when Nam-gyu tightens his grip around your shoulders. “This is the guy you wanted to see?” You can barely hear yourself over the beat of the bass in the club, but Nam-gyu seems to hear you. He nods, smile growing bigger and eyes crinkling at the sides. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so happy.

“C’mon. Let’s go drink.” He tugs you towards the bar before you can even think to stop him. You stumble behind him as he pushes through the crowd of dancing people. Nam-gyu’s head bops to the music the whole way, and his grip on your shoulder never leaves. His hand only falls away when he gets you sat on a barstool and himself sat on one beside you. The bartender comes over to serve you - He orders soju for the both of you. Simple, but probably best for partying. Why make things complicated?

The bartender is bringing the bottle and glasses over quickly, and then the two of you are left alone to listen to Thanos’ next song. Something about money. You don’t know, you’re hardly paying attention. Nam-gyu is clearly having the time of his life and you’re just here to support him, so that’s exactly what you do. You pour yourself some soju and allow Nam-gyu to bob his head to the music and grin like a giddy child.

The familiarity of the subtle burn of the soju on your tongue is welcomed happily by you in this otherwise unfamiliar environment. Everything here is new and uncomfortable, but at least the soju is nice and comfortable and reminds you of long days in Nam-gyu’s bedroom when you close your eyes.

You’ve never had anything going with him, but the thought of spending time with him is still more comforting than anything else your brain could possibly conjure up. He’s just a silly crush to you, something that gets butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he glances your way after a song in the dark and bumping club. He’s just a warm blush on your cheeks as you down another shot of soju. He’s just your best and only friend and maybe a little bit more than that, but you will never be that much to him.

You know it. You know you will never be anything to him because he’s giving you sidelong glances between sets but he’s turning to stare at a random girl’s tits while Thanos sings about getting bitches. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push the aching in your chest deep down, to a place the sun will never touch and a place where this feeling will be forgotten. You don’t want this outing to be ruined by Nam-gyu being Nam-gyu, and you don’t want to always be caught up on him. You don’t want to rely on him, on his love, forever. You want to live for yourself.

So you take another shot of soju. And it goes down smoother this time, easy like water as it slides down your throat. You suddenly feel like a thirsty man in a desert finding a pool of water for the first time. Nam-gyu does little to stop you. He takes his own shots of soju and watches you take your fourth. His licks his lips when he turns away from you to stare at a girl’s jiggling ass under her short shorts, disregarding the man she’s dancing on. Of course he doesn’t care about that man the girl is all over. He only cares about getting his dick wet.

He doesn’t care about you.

You push yourself from the stool of the bar, suddenly feeling sick at the realization that Nam-gyu doesn’t care about you beyond friendship, or maybe even seeing you as a sister. You’re not sure which is worse. Probably being a sister to him. At least as a friend, there’s more of a chance of him falling in love eventually. 

You stumble over your own feet as you push through the people on the dance floor. There’s still an energetic rap echoing through the spacious room when you reach the bathroom door, room spinning as your hands push at the door. The hinges protest loudly at the motion of opening, but it can hardly be heard over the bumping music. You’re too busy focusing on your roiling stomach to even care. You’re not sure if it’s your realization of Nam-gyu’s contempt that has you feeling so sick, or if it’s the soju. Maybe a mix of both. You’ve never exactly been too good at handling your liquor.

You stumble into a stall, shaking hands locking the door behind you. You don’t hurl as soon as the squeaking door is slammed shut, though. Instead, something completely unexpected happens - You break out into tears. Stinging water pokes at your eyes before it drips down your cheeks and into your open mouth. There’s plenty of other girls in the bathroom with you, all listening to you breakdown. You hardly care enough to stifle your sobs. The only attempt you provide to do such a thing is shoving a hand over your mouth and biting into the skin of the appendage.

The bathroom door creaks open to announce yet another person has been added to the audience of people listening to you. Only… This new arrival is swiftly followed by a girl shrieking and the door howling again as it’s swung open and shut. Someone approaches your stall, feet coming to a stop just outside the door. They seem to hesitate for a moment, and then they knock. Once, twice. The cheap plastic of the club bathroom stall rattles from the force of the knock despite it being pretty gentle. Your eyes drift from the door and down, down, trying to potentially identify who could be knocking. 

“It’s occupied. Get another stall.” Your words are wet and pathetic sounding when they leave your quivering lips. You force yourself to stop crying then and there. You never should’ve started, but you’re farther than tipsy and Nam-gyu is looking at everyone but you. Your eyes catch on the sneakers perched against the floor as soon as they come into view. They’re tattered, black, fabric tearing from the rubber soles. They’re also decidedly masculine - No normal woman has feet that big.

There’s no way it could be Nam-gyu though, right? Why would he ever follow you into the women’s bathroom? That’s crazy.

Your eyebrows shoot down into a furrow. “Let me in.” His words come out as a demand, and you don’t have the heart to deny him that request. It’s inappropriate, but you’ve never been able to tell him no. You reach your shaking hand out to the door, fingers twisting to grab hold of the lock and pull. It unlocks easily, with a click that echoes through the bathroom. Nam-gyu’s hand is pushing the door open in an instant and he steps inside hurriedly. 

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He mutters, not even looking at you as he asks his question. He’s too busy shutting the stall door with a shrill squeak and locking it back with a resounding click. You don’t have the heart to tell him. You can’t tell him. You can’t ruin your friendship, the only good thing you’ve had in recent years.

So, you don’t tell him. You just silently shrug as he turns around to face you. He’s clearly disbelieving, but he doesn’t pry any further. Nam-gyu just lets out a deep sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his body against the door of the stall. “Okay, don’t tell me. Just don’t ruin my night. I’m already missing my favorite Thanos song.” And his words fucking sting, but you try not to let it show. You blink slowly, trying to rid your eyes of the burning from the tears. You want to peel your skin off and remove any sign of the previous distress, but that’s impossible. Even if you could do it, the damage has already been done. Your eyes are swollen and stinging and your cheeks are tacky with the remnants of your salty tears.

You cross your arms over your chest to mirror Nam-gyu. Neither of you say anything for a long moment.

You don’t know what happens next, or how it happens, but suddenly Nam-gyu is leaning forward and putting his lips on yours. They sting with the taste of old nicotine and soju, but it’s still the best thing you’ve ever experienced, you think. The chapped skin of his lips is something you want to freeze into your memory forever.

You kiss back, of course you do. It turns from a peck into something real so quickly that you’re unable to pin exactly when it happens, you just know that the gesture changes from cosmetic to tangible. It goes from anxious, odd movements to purposeful glides of tongue. It’s nowhere near perfect, it’s messy and rough, but it’s beautiful to you. This is not your first kiss by any means - That was taken approximately two years ago by some ex-boyfriend of yours - But you wished so badly that it was. It holds the same amount of amateur motions that your first kiss did, it just doesn’t get to have the title of being first.

The kiss deepens when Nam-gyu slithers two hands up to your face and holds you tightly, just like that. His palms frame your cheeks and he pushes your head up into his just a bit better, providing an even better angle when he sticks his tongue in your mouth and explores every bit of you there. The taste of nicotine and soju grows, but you hardly care. You can’t help but moan into the kiss as something bolts straight through you - Arousal, you think. You’re still a virgin, even at eighteen, and the only person to blame for that is you. With the way Nam-gyu is moving, he is probably not a virgin. You try not to think about how jealous that very thought makes you.

He will stay a virgin in your mind until he bares himself for you, because thinking of him with other women is far too much turmoil for you to bear when you’re drunk and your neck is aching from angling up to kiss him. His hands tighten against your face, hair catching messily between tightly gripped fingers. You hope they bruise there, leaving purple marks to show what has happened and who you belong to. 

Nam-gyu starts to grind against you when he finally pulls away to allow the two of you to get air. It’s only on your first nice gulp of oxygen that you realize how dizzy you are from the kiss, and you don’t know if that’s from adrenaline or soju or lack of air. Maybe it’s a mix of all three. It’s also at that very moment that you realize you would suffocate to death if it made Nam-gyu happy.

The feeling of his boner is tangible and scary when it rubs against your thigh. Anxiety spikes through you, sharp and strong and piercing right through the growing arousal in your core. Even still, your pussy clenches around nothing in your panties and you feel yourself getting wetter despite the anxiety of losing your virginity here in this dirty club bathroom. It’s not what you pictured this to be like at all, but it’s perfect as long as it’s with Nam-gyu. Even though Thanos’ shitty music is bouncing through the bathroom and it stinks in here and the stall door rattles with every grind of Nam-gyu’s hips against your thighs, it’s perfect because Nam-gyu’s hands are cradling your face.

You stare up at him, utterly breathless when you catch sight of his face - Blissed out and blushing and coming undone without even really doing anything. Your hands grasp for purchase against the wall behind you, nails clawing at some graffiti that was left behind by someone with too much time on their hands in this stall. And when Nam-gyu speaks to tell you to pull down your tights and panties, it sounds like nothing but pure romance. 

His voice is raspy and tired when it echoes through the bathroom. You’re just caught up on the fact that he wants you. You allow one shaking hand to pry away from the stall wall. The very same hand snakes up your skirt, and you savor the way Nam-gyu’s eyes track the motions of your fingers wrapping around the waistband of your panties and tights. You tug them down your thighs, and once the garments reach your knees, they easily slide the rest of the way down your legs. Your pussy clenches as you try to prepare yourself for this. It’s such a far cry from him staring at some random girl’s tits just twenty minutes ago.

Nam-gyu’s teeth catch on his bottom lip. He forces himself to let go of your face so he can reach down to his jeans and unzip them, pulling his cock out just a moment later. It’s nothing shabby at all, slender like the rest of him but decently long. A small bead of precum drips from the tip when he exposes it to the cool air of the bathroom. Your mouth waters at the sight before you, Nam-gyu’s cock pulsing and leaking precum. He pumps it a few times, using the precum as lube.

“Fuck. I’ve been thinking about this.” His words are low, but your ears catch them all the same. For a split second you’re convinced he didn’t really say that, but he had to have said it. There’s no way he said anything else. You open your mouth to question him, shock coursing through you. Before you can spit a single word out, he’s closing the remaining gap between the two of you and pushing in to the hilt.

All you can do is choke on a moan from the pure bliss of being filled by him. It stings ever so slightly, but he seems to account for that. Nam-gyu pauses once he’s fully inside, although he’d hardly given you time to adjust when he was pushing in. He pulses inside you, but he’s patient. His chest heaves with every breath he lets out, each one labored and heavy. He’s clearly trying to hold back. You grip at his biceps for purchase, nails digging into the fabric of his jean jacket. It’s rough against your skin, just perfect to ground you in this moment of being filled more than you could have ever dreamed of.

“Good?” He heaves out, question airy as it slips from his lips. In all honesty, you don’t know whether you’re good or not. Your brain is mushy from being filled and a few drinks into the night at this point. There’s the dull sting in your pussy, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The drinks serve to dull it down, and besides, you’re enjoying yourself. You’re just not used to this. Sure, you’d touched yourself before, tried to finger yourself sometimes. It’s never the same, and it has never hurt like this. Two fingers is nothing compared to a full cock, though. This was so much better.

You nod before you can even fully process the question and how you’re actually doing. You don’t think you could assess your own state even if you had allowed yourself to mull over the question. Nam-gyu doesn’t think twice once he receives that answer, either. He immediately moves to begin thrusting, pulling out fully before thrusting all the way back in. He’s rough about it, forceful and demanding with every motion of his hips. You can do nothing but allow yourself to get fucked rough and hard.

And this is just so different from how you pictured losing your virginity. You always expected it to be romantic and something from the movies, nice-smelling candles on a big bed and donned with rosepetals. This is such a far cry from that that it’s almost comical. The dull thump of bass as Thanos ends off the night, the audience outside the bathroom screaming. People enter and exit the room, hardly paying any mind to the girl who’s brains are being fucked out against the stall door. If they notice, they don’t mention it. Maybe this is normal.

You bring your legs up to lock around Nam-gyu’s hips, and he instinctively moves to hold you up, arms coming up under your ass to support you. You jolt with every inward thrust, bitten-off moans slipping from your mouth as he finds his pace. He becomes faster as time goes on, moving shallowly and hurriedly. He’s so rough with it, too. His cock grazes against that spot inside you with every inward thrust, but he does it so shallowly that it just perfectly teases that spot.

Your clit throbs against the fabric of your skirt. Nam-gyu’s hips thrusting against yours provide little of the friction needed for you to get close enough for true pleasure. You’re stuck like that, pleasure crescendoing for a single second before it lets off because he moves away. Nam-gyu seems to be interested in little more than getting himself off, strands of hair falling from behind his ears as he speeds up impossible more. His fingers against the flesh of your ass seem to tighten to a bruising grip, something that is definitely going to leave purple marks against you come tomorrow.

“Fuck! Nam-” You’re cut off by another unconscious moan, something wanton and unabashed. There’s no point in hiding any of this, it’s glaringly obvious what is going on inside this stall. Between the creaking of the walls and the wet noises and your moans, no one is going to be able to leave this bathroom without knowing what’s going on. Nam-gyu groans as his name leaves your mouth, the first time you’ve managed to hear him make a noise this whole time.

You throw your head back against the wall, trying to thrust your hips against his as best as you can with every inward thrust. Your pleasure is just barely growing, but as soon as it grows it seems to dissipate once more. It’s like Nam-gyu is purposefully teasing you with his rushed and shallow thrusts, things that are just enough to leave you wanting more. He does not take the time to even try to touch you, nor does he take the time to slow down his thrusts and make them deeper, better. He wants something quick, something shallow. His thrusts are reflecting that.

Every thrust is followed swiftly by a wet schlick noise that pairs your moans and the groans he’s allowing to leave his mouth a bit more now. Nam-gyu tilts his head down, seeming to make a point of not kissing you one his way there. He stops at your throat, nosing along it and at the neck of your shirt until the clothing slips down to allow him enough space to do what he wishes. He finds the small junction where the throat meets shoulder. You’re not able to protest him as he licks at it for a small second before he clamps down on it, teeth drawing blood from the skin there. 

Half of you is sick at the obscenity of the motion. The other half is pulsing around his cock, letting out a whimper from the simultaneous jolt of pain and pleasure that rushes through your body and down to your throbbing clit. One hand removes itself from his bicep and snakes down to find your clit, pulsing and needy when your fingers catch on it beneath your skirt. Nam-gyu almost looks like he wants to stop you, but he doesn’t. He watches as you circle your fingers across the bundle of nerves and roll your hips against his from the pleasure that rolls through your body.

It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s every good thing in this world and it’s the only thing you’ve ever needed. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you let them slip shut. Your fingers speed up in their motions against your clit, and you can’t control yourself any longer. The pleasure grows and grows, something newfound and odd when it seems to take over your body. You’d been horny before this, but never like this. It was never a fire taking over your entire body, burning hotter in every place Nam-gyu touches even when it’s through clothing. 

You relish in the fact Nam-gyu is left speechless as he watches you touch yourself and clench around his cock, silently begging for more. He gives just what you need without you needing to ask, too. He speeds up impossibly more, hips stuttering and growing erratic as the inevitable comes - His orgasm. It’s only then that you remember he didn’t put on a condom, but your urgency over this newfound fact is naught. It is what it is. Some sick part of you wants him to cum deep inside you and never pull out, keep it plugged inside forever. 

You moan loudly at just the thought. Nam-gyu resumes his attention to your throat then, but his eyes are clearly still grappling for the sight before him as his tongue laps at the blood dripping down the junction of your throat there. It seeps into the fabric of your turtleneck, and it’s then that you’re just grateful you wore black instead of any other available color. Black will hide the blood and sweat and alcohol and anything else that isn’t cum. 

Nam-gyu’s thrusts become more erratic. He pumps in one, two, three more times. And then he’s shuddering to a stop as he cums deep inside you, groaning against the open wound on your throat. You’re going to have to wear turtlenecks for a while after this, you suppose. It’ll be okay. It’s worth it, to get to do this with Nam-gyu. To get to lose your virginity with Nam-gyu.

He’s pulling out just as your fingers speed up on your clit and you cum just behind him with a moan of his name. He hardly regards it. Nam-gyu pulls out of you fully, tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping them back up. He says nothing. He doesn’t talk about it. You’re too blissed out from your orgasm to consider saying anything. He just unlocks the stall door and leaves you there, dripping cum and shaking from the aftereffects of your orgasm.

It takes you a few minutes to come back to yourself. When you do, you’re already feeling the effects of what was just done. You just fucked Nam-gyu, your best friend, in a dingy club bathroom. He just came inside you without a second thought. You could have gotten caught, but you didn’t. Worst of all? He left without another word.

You bend down to take hold of your panties and tights, fabric bundled around your calves. Nam-gyu’s cum is already beginning to snake down your inner thighs. You suppose you’ll just have to take a good shower tonight. You tug your clothing back up in one motion, although it could hardly be considered a smooth motion. It’s rough and your fingers shake the whole way. 

Your thighs tremble as you step out of the stall. A girl standing at the bathroom is giving you a dirty look, something sharp and violent. Your heart clenches anxiously in your chest. Tears bubble behind your eyes. You just wish Nam-gyu had stayed behind to say anything at all. 

As you approach the bathroom door, it swings open loudly. For half a second, you wish it’s Nam-gyu there, ready to apologize and pull you into open arms. It’s not him. It’s a kind but tired looking girl, one who appears to be just a few years older than you. Her curls are tied up into a bouncing ponytail, and her warm eyes land on you just as soon as the door opens to reveal you there, just a foot away from opening it.

She takes one look at you, the trembling in your thighs and tears bubbling behind your eyes, and her mouth forms into a frown.

“Did something happen to you?” Her worried words are muffled behind heartbreak and alcohol in your system. You shake your head, because it’s true. Nothing happened to you. You wanted what happened, you just wished it had been warmer. More loving.

The girl steps towards you, although it’s a small step. Something you would use when approaching a wild dog on the street.

“Are you sure? I’ll kill whoever fucked with you.” Something about a random stranger sticking up for you, a girl who only shares one thing with you - The location at this very moment - Makes something warm buzz inside your heart. Even still, you nod. “Nothing happened. I’m fine.” You mutter, words small and sad. You’re not helping your case. She’s still kind, though. She nods, a small and curt gesture. 

“Well, shit, at least let me get you a taxi home. You’re a mess.” You shouldn’t agree to the offer, but you do. You do because you can’t say no to someone being so kind. Besides, Nam-gyu has ditched you and he had all the money. You don’t have the gut to face him again tonight. This is for the best.