This Is So Good What The Hell - Tumblr Posts

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synopsis: your roommate riki is a little messy, very annoying, but relatively normal. sometimes, though, you find that he acts very strange...

content warnings: unrealistic sex, dubcon, blood, mild body horror

The faucet had been left on again, a gentle yet steady stream of water draining into the kitchen sink. You sighed, twisted the knob, and called, “Riki!” behind your shoulder. 

Soon, Riki walked into the room, leaning his elbows on the counter space in front of the sink. “What is it?” he asked, feigning innocence. As if you couldn’t see the smirk twitching on the corner of his lips. 

“Stop leaving the water on,” you admonished. “This is the third time this week I’ve had to tell you to turn it off after you're done with it."

Riki shrugged and reached over, twisting the knob again. You twisted it back, and he turned the water on again, snickering to himself. “You’re not funny,” you said.

Riki pointed at your lips. “Then why are you smiling?” 

“I’m not,” you said, fighting a grin. If you didn’t put your foot down now, he would never learn. You maintained a stoic expression as best as you could. “Look, if you leave the water on, it’ll start to add up, and then we’ll have to pay more.”

“Please.” Riki waved his hand dismissively and straightened up, walking over to the bowl of lustrous fruit that tucked next to the paper towel holder. He picked up a ripe, red apple and moved to lean against the fridge, tossing the fruit from hand to hand. “You’re worrying too much. It’s just a little trickle of water, it’ll cost like five dollars extra, max.”

“Or,” you said slowly, “you could just turn the faucet off when you’re done using the sink.”

Riki rolled his eyes and took a bite out of the apple. Its juice dribbled down his lips, and he wiped it away with his thumb, sucking on the digit with an exaggerated pop. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to distract you. “Does it really bother you?”

“Wasting money bothers me,” you grumbled. “Now move. I need to get something out of the fridge.”

In true Nishimura fashion, he didn’t budge. Instead, Riki crossed his arms and grinned slightly at you before taking another bite of his apple. “I don’t wanna move,” he said, his voice taking on a childish cadence. 

“Get out of the way,” you said. Riki was normally frustrating, but sometimes, he would drag a joke on for far too long. When you had first moved in together after meeting on a roommate app, he had pulled pranks on you, almost as if to set a precedent for his devilry. Riki had put spray foam on the mirror in the bathroom the two of you shared, replaced the knives you had brought with cheap plastic alternatives, and had stuck little pom-poms to the edges of all of the pieces of furniture in the home. Your kitchen table, the matching chairs, the small coffee table in your miniscule living room: all adorned with multicoloured pom-poms. You had grown accustomed to them, so you didn’t bother peeling them off. 

Riki sank his teeth into his apple once more, no longer bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk. “Nope.”

Groaning, you tried to pry him off the fridge yourself. “Get off.”

 Despite his lithe, skinny frame, Riki was strong and easily pulled you away. One hand held you in place. Riki lowered his head towards yours, widening his eyes. “What’s the magic word?” His tone was condescending, as though he were a teacher and you were a child. 

“Fuck off?”

“That’s two words,” Riki said, using the same patronizing voice. “Come on, just one word.”

You sighed. “Please?”

Riki let go of you and stood away from the fridge, choosing to prop himself up against the kitchen counter. “Was that so hard?”

Mumbling expletives under your breath, you picked out a few vegetables. Fried rice had been on your mind for a while, and your stomach was starting to growl. 

“What are you making?” Riki asked, following your movements as you procured a bamboo cutting board and one of the flimsy, hot pink plastic kitchen knives Riki had bought. 

“I’m making fried rice,” you said. “You can starve, though.” Wielding the knife, you began to cut into a medium-sized carrot. Chopping vegetables was a laborious, painstakingly slow process now because of Riki. When you cut anything now, the pieces always end up jagged. You had tried to negotiate, but Riki was adamant on keeping these stupid novelty cutlery pieces. Whatever. It wasn’t the only weird trait of his that you had had to tolerate. 

Through a mouthful of apple, Riki said, “You wouldn’t let me starve.” 

“I would,” you said, eyebrows knitting in concentration. 

“Don’t be mean,” Riki murmured. Hands hung loosely around your neck, and Riki’s scent permeated your nostrils. His chest pressed lightly against your back, startling you. The knife slipped, and you nicked your index finger.

“Ah!” You stared at the small bead of blood pooling at its tip in annoyance. “Look at what you made me do,” you began, but the look on Riki’s face was enough to stop you in your tracks. His lips were contorted into a grimace, and he had ripped his arms away from you. His eyes, too, were fixed on your finger. 

“Band-aid,” he said quietly. “You need one.” With that, Riki stumbled out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom. 

You shook your head and ran your fingertip under cool water from the sink, watching the redness spill into the clear liquid. It was more of a shock that you hadn’t cut yourself before, given what you had to work with. 

Riki came back less than a minute later, thrusting the box of band-aids in your direction. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Could you open a bandaid for me? Don’t wanna get blood everywhere.” You turned off the water and blotted your fingertip with a paper towel. 

“Sure,” Riki said, his voice thin. He nearly dropped the box of bandages as he hastily tried to peel apart the strips of paper covering the bandaid. “Uh, finger. Give me your finger.”

“Weird phrasing,” you said with a slight laugh. You held your finger up and Riki hesitated to apply the bandage. A trickle of blood slipped down your pointer. “Riki? What are you doing?”

Riki’s eyes were fixed on your finger, but he blinked and pressed the bandaid unceremoniously onto the cut. “There,” he said. “Saved the day.” Riki swallowed and looked at his half-eaten apple. He washed his hands in the sink and ate his apple furiously while you cleaned up the rest of your blood.

“Maybe if you let us have regular knives, this wouldn’t have happened,” you said. The plastic knife was dotted with some of your blood, but Riki took it from you, pocketing it.

“It’s contaminated,” Riki said. “I don’t want to taste blood in my food.”

“Don’t avoid the issue,” you said, rummaging in the drawers for another stupid knife. “I want a normal knife.”

“No way,” Riki replied. “You would have cut yourself ten times worse if you had used a normal knife.”

You pulled a knife out, this one a putrid bright yellow. “No, I cut myself because I used your stupid knife,” you said. “Can’t we just g-,”

Riki’s voice rose suddenly, the first time he had ever sounded angry. “Drop it,” he said. “Please.” 

You turned to gauge his body language, and Riki didn’t look mad. He looked scared, with pleading eyes. “Please,” he repeated. 

“Fine,” you relented, getting to your feet. 

Riki plucked the yellow knife out of your grasp and pushed you out of the way. “I’ll cut these,” he said, gesturing at the vegetables. “You go do… something else.”

“I’m not an invalid,” you said. 

“It’s my apology,” Riki said. “Go lie down or read a book or something, I don’t know. I’ll make dinner tonight.” 

You grimaced. “Riki…”

“Go,” he insisted sharply. 

“Fine,” you said, walking towards your bedroom. 

Riki was a decent roommate, but he could be ridiculously immature sometimes. The knives, the stupid decorations, and the way he avoided you when you were on your period. It was like he was a middle-schooler. He insisted that you dispose of your hygienic products as quickly as possible, citing the smell as the problem. “I wouldn’t leave my cumrags everywhere,” he had said, pointing vehemently at the small trash can in the bathroom. “So you can clean up your…shit.”

“Not even close to being the same thing,” you had said. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll start leaving my used cumsocks everywhere, then,” he had said. Unfortunately, Riki had made good on his promise, leaving a single, worn, wet sock on the bathroom floor. Not willing to fight a war of attrition with a young adult male, you had taken to tossing out the trash every day when you were on your period. 

An hour later, Riki called you into the kitchen. He had set the kitchen table for two, a spoon and a steaming bowl of fried rice on your placemat. "Done," he said, settling into his chair. He nodded at you. "Eat."

You begrudgingly ate the food. It was fine, but it was almost impossible to ruin fried rice. As you ate, you noticed that his gaze continued to flicker over to your bandaged finger.

After dinner, which has remained unusually terse, you retired to your room. Riki and you shared an amicable friendship, but you liked to have your alone time. You spent the rest of your night lounging on your bed, reading a fantasy novel that you had been putting off.

Once you noticed yourself beginning to yawn, you changed into your nightclothes and crawled into bed. Despite your fatigue, sleep refused to come. You tossed and turned, punched your pillow, and even tried slow, meditative breathing. Nothing.

As you lay there, burrowed under your blanket, you heard something from Riki's room. The apartment was laid out so that your bedrooms were on one side of the hallway and the bathroom and laundry room were on the other. You had the room closest to the living room, and your bed was pressed against the wall separating your room with Riki's.

It wasn't like Riki didn't make noise at night. Sometimes, he would wake you up while he played an online game with his friends, or you would hear his light snoring.

This wasn't like those times. Muffled sighs were emanating from his room, and you could hear his quilt rustling. As you listened, you realized that the sighs weren't sighs, but quiet moans.

You took your ear away from the wall, bristling in embarrassment. Normally, the two of you could be quiet. At the very least, Riki had never teased you about you pleasuring yourself, so you figured you were decent at hiding it. To his credit, despite his allusions to jerking off, you had never caught him either. Until now.

When you checked your phone, you saw that it was around 2 in the morning. He probably thought you were asleep, which was why his moans were growing louder. Riki almost sounded like he was in pain, and his bed creaked underneath him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your ear against the wall once more, biting your lip. You wondered who he was thinking about. Riki had started working straight out of school, but you knew he had friends. Maybe it was one of them? Or a female celebrity? A male celebrity? Your mind worked overtime, trying to figure out who Riki could be getting off to.

Riki's breathing turned into a stream of panting and moaning, unsuccessfully smothered by his hand or blanket or whatever he was using. It was dark in your room, dark enough that your imagination was quick to fill in the gaps. You imagined his hand pumping his cock, his plush lips parting as he let out desperate whimpers, the sheen of sweat that had surely formed on his forehead.

You weren't crazy. You knew that you lived with an objectively attractive man, but you refused to act on it. The living arrangement you had now suited you well, and a relationship could only complicate things. You were sure he felt the same way.

Which is why his breathy whimper of your name caught you off guard. Heat nipped at your core, and you waited for him to say it again. Instead, the shuffling of fabric stopped, Riki's breathing began to even out, and the air was once again filled with silence.

"You imagined it," you told yourself. "Freak."

You didn't fall asleep for hours, rubbing your thighs together. You refused to get off to your roommate.

In the morning, you dragged yourself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Riki was already there, eating a piece of toast slathered with strawberry jam.

"Morning," you said.

Riki waved at you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Badly," you said, rubbing your eyes. "You?"

"Pretty well," Riki said, chewing on his breakfast as he scrolled through his phone.

You popped two pieces of bread into the toaster oven and yawned. You wanted to tell Riki that it was partially his fault you couldn't sleep, but you figured he would manage to misconstrue it into you being the weird one.

"If you stopped looking at Draco fanfiction, you'd sleep better," Riki said without looking up.

"What makes you think I read that?" you asked haltingly.

"A hunch," he replied.

"Yeah, well, maybe you'd sleep better if you..." you faltered.

"Take your time."

"Oh, fuck you, I'm too tired," you said, putting the toast on a saucer and shuffling to the kitchen table. Before you could use the plastic knife to spread the jam, Riki took your plate. He hastily spread globs of jam onto your bread before setting the plate in fromt of you.

"You take too long when you do it," Riki said, avoiding eye contact.

"Doing the cooking, helping me make breakfast, what's next for you?" You tried to lighten the mood, or you would be forced to contend with the uneasiness lining Riki's forehead.

"Don't get used to it," Riki said.

"Wasn't going to in the first place," you replied, eating your toast.

"Whatever," Riki mumbled. "Oh, I'm going to the grocery store after work. Text me if you need anything."

"Will do," you said.

"And try not to get hurt," he said, standing up. He put his plate in the dishwasher.

"No promises."

Riki groaned and left the kitchen.

You spent the day reading, studying, watching TV, and doing household chores. You always loved it when you got the house to yourself, and today was no exception. Finally, you could release some of the pent-up tension you had been carrying since last night.

You managed to get off without thinking about Riki, and afterwards you took a well-deserved, orgasm-induced nap. When you woke up, you remembered that you still hadn't unloaded the dishwasher.

The cutlery went first, and you grimaced at the sight of the various plastic knives. Then you handled the plates. You recognized one of them as the saucer that Riki had used that morning, which made you think about last night. The way he had said your name, voice muffled and hoarse. Just the thought of it shot desire throughout your body, and you banged your head into the edge of the cupboard. Luckily, you managed to put the plate on the counter before you slipped to the floor. Otherwise, you'd have a broken saucer to deal with, too.

Getting to your feet, you made your way into the bathroom. You assessed the damage in the mirror with a grimace. It would probably develop into a goose egg later on, so it was imperative that you stopped the swelling now lest you develop a garish-looking bump. You retrieved a small hand-towel from the little cupboard above the towel and mopped up some of the blood. The ice packs were all in the freezer, so you stepped out into the hallway.

There, you were greeted with Riki, who had seemingly materialized out of thin air. He was staring at you with narrowed eyes, lips pressed into a line. "You got hurt again," he said in an almost accusatory tone.

"Not like I meant to," you muttered. "Now move, I need an ice pack."

"Let me see," Riki said, and before you could protest he tore the stained towel away from your face and cast it aside. With no buffer, your blood dripped freely down your face, tickling your skin during its descent. You could see Riki's Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously, eyes trained on the trickle of blood.

"How'd you do it?"

"Walked into a cupboard."

"Idiot," Riki muttered. His hands fell to your shoulders, lightly squeezing them. His gaze was starting to grow unsettling; you realized that you hadn't seen him blink once.

"Let me go," you said, squirming. "I'm gonna bleed everywhere." You could feel the blood sliding down to the tip of your nose.

"Just..." Riki leaned in and licked a stripe from the tip of your nose to its bridge. You gasped, a flurry of goosebumps painting your back. "Sorry," he whispered. Empty apology. He did it again, his tongue flicking over your face again. His grip grew tighter as he licked all the way to the scar, lapping up your blood. As he did so, he groaned softly.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

When he pulled away to look at you, his mouth was smeared with your blood and his saliva. Riki licked his lips and shivered. His hands dug into your shoulders, his nails sharp even through your shirt. Too sharp. You looked down at them and gasped once more. His hands, which were so pretty and slender, had become gnarled, his fingernails elongating and solidifying into something else. You rubbed your eyes, but the sight didn't go away.

"Sorry," Riki said again. "I'm sorry..." His tongue swirled around the wound on your forehead, and you noted that it felt different. It felt thicker, less soft, more like an appendage than a squishy piece of muscle. As he licked the scar, Riki hooked his leg behind yours and took you down to the floor of the hallway. He pressed his body weight against yours so that you were pinned underneath him.

Riki kneeled over top of you, his breathing growing laboured. He wiped his mouth with his ever-thickening hand. He parted his lips as if to say something, but all that came out was a low growling noise.

His body continued to undergo fantastical changes. Every inch of skin darkened into an inky blackness. He was already tall, but his spine cracked and groaned as Riki grew. He was now around 8 feet tall. His torso expanded, tearing through his shirt. The sinews of his shoulders became visible, and the hard outline of his abs looked embossed on his new body.

His pants were the next to be ripped to shreds, as his legs went from thin yet muscular to large and bulky. Riki's hard cock was equally as obsidian, imposing, and hopelessly inhuman as the rest of him. Besides its unnatural length and girth, the underside of it was ridged with little bumps.

You were dreaming. You had to be because this didn't make sense. Generally speaking, cute boys didn't turn into monsters.

Riki, if you could still call him that, ran one finger along your shirt, from its neck to its hem. Then he roughly dragged his claw all the way up, ripping your shirt in half. You yelped and moved to cover yourself, but Riki let out a noise that could only be described as animalistic. He shoved your hands away and tore the rest of your shirt off of you. Your bra was discarded in a similar manner, and your nipples immediately hardened from the chill.

One of his massive hands kneaded your tits, eliciting another growl from him. Just one hand was enough to cover your entire breast. The other clawed at your pants, leaving them in tatters. He stripped the fabric off of you, finally leaving you in just a thin pair of panties.

Riki dragged his claw along the waistband of your panties, then he trailed it onto your still clothed clit. You whimpered pathetically at his touch, writhing underneath him.

"Riki," you pleaded, "what are you doing?" You kept telling yourself that it was a dream, but the sulfuric scent wafting into your nostrils was all too visceral. The wetness starting to soak through your panties was also real.

He took off your panties with a bit of more delicacy, making a cut down the middle and peeling them off with a wet, sticky noise. Seemingly having his fill with your blood, Riki lowered his head to your pussy and started to lap at your clit. His dexterous, thick tongue felt amazing on the sensitive nub, and you moaned. Satisfied that you wouldn't run away, Riki moved his hands to your thighs, holding them lightly in place. His tongue, feeling twice as long with the average human's, alternated between teasing your clit and probing its way inside of your pussy. It flicked upwards just enough to reach the gummy wall of your G-spot, forcing more moans out of you.

You didn't think Riki in this form would have been particularly occupied by your pleasure, but given the way he fucked his tongue into your pussy, it was clear that he fully intended on bringing you to the brink. His hair was still normal, so you tangled your fingers inside the black locks as you enjoyed the sensations. If this were a dream, it was a pretty fun one after all.

Riki sucked and licked your clit, causing a pleasurable heat to rise within you. Your hips bucked into his mouth as you anticipated your orgasm. Then, forcefully, a wave of sheer, white-hot ecstasy washed over you, stars flashing in front of your eyes. Never had you ever had a climax so powerful, so delicious. Riki kept lapping up your juices as you came, and you tugged at his hair weakly to get him to stop. He continued, and you whined, the overstimulation growing painful.

"Riki," you said, pulling his hair again. "Stop..." You sat upright and tried to catch your breath.

He lifted his head up, and to your surprise, he was smirking. So, even as a creature, he was still an annoying brat. You rolled your eyes at him, which he responded to by pressing his moist lips against yours. Immediately, Riki's tongue shoved itself inside of your mouth, slithering down your throat; his hands continued playing with your tits. Slowly, he pushed you down once more onto the cold tile.

You could feel his stiff, barbed cock pressing against you and you grimaced. There was no way he was going to be able to fit that inside you all the way, was there?

Riki seemed intent on finding out. Parting your legs again, he jammed the tip of his cock into your pussy, working it in carefully. At the slightest bit of friction, he moaned deeply. He was thick, almost too thick. Just the tip made your toes curl. As he adjusted to your pussy, he sucked on your nipples, one after the other. He bit them and pulled at them with his abnormally sharp teeth.

He stuffed about half of his length into you before starting to move. Even half of him filled you nicely, stretching out your walls. It had been so long since you had done anything, and you welcomed the pleasure. The barbs on his cock only added to the sensation.

Riki started to ram his hips into you faster. His claws dug into your waist, and his head was thrown back as he let out guttural moans. He jammed more of his cock into you, and you screamed.

"Too much," you said. "It hurts, Riki." But it was as if he couldn't hear you anymore. Instead, he only quickened his pace. He placed one knee on the ground, balancing his other leg on the ball of his foot. He held your hands, now tiny in his grasp, and used this new position to better pound into you. Riki brought you onto his cock over and over again. Every time he went deeper, you could feel more of the barbs dragging along your sensitive walls. His balls, which were heavy and hung low, slapped against your thighs.

You cried out again, tears running down your face. It hurt so badly, but it felt so, so good. Riki was treating you like a ragdoll, pushing you around, doing whatever he wanted with you. He dropped your hands and spun you around so that your boobs pressed against the floor. Your hands splayed out onto the tile, desperately searching for purchase.

Grabbing your ass using both of his hands, he effortlessly pushed you up and down on his length yourself. Despite the pain you were already feeling from his monstrous dick, he still hadn't plunged himself all the way inside yet. His tip pressed against your cervix, threatening its narrow opening.

You hadn't realized that you had been approaching another orgasm until electric shocks ravaged your body. You bit your fist and shrieked into it as your pussy undulated against Riki's length. The different stimulations made you feel like you were touching a live wire.

This only spurred Riki on, and he drove himself even further into you. His cock breached your cervix and you screamed again. He was fucking your womb now, bulging your stomach with his long, hard cock. His claws dug so sharply into you that tears sprung to your eyes; your tits bounced painfully, and your ass hit against his groin with loud, lewd smacks. The sounds he made were like grunts, but stronger, more primordial, darker. Everything about him screamed power.

Riki pulled out of you only to slam himself back inside, tearing through your cervix with renewed vigor. He was crouched over your body, holding your legs above you. He drove himself inside of you slowly at first, then harshly. His grip around your ankles was as tight as a vice.

When his thrusts became erratic, you figured that he was close. With a final, primal cry, Riki came, pumping your womb full of his seed. He pulled out of you with a gasp and rolled onto his back. You were left to lie down your stomach, hyperventilating as you tried to regain your senses.

Curiously, you reached a finger down into the liquid pooling between your legs and examined it. It was black, much less viscous than regular cum, and it smelled of sulfur. You took a lick and spit it out immediately, as it tasted exactly how it smelled.

You glanced back at Riki, who was returning to normal. The blackness of his face faded to his usual, fleshy tone, although he was flushed all over. His body became wiry again, and the claws rescinded into his regular, short nails. His eyes had been squeezed shut, but when Riki opened them and looked at you, he winced.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. He pulled you over to him, resting your head on his chest. He sighed and rubbed your scalp. "I honestly am sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, do all that..."

"I'll consider forgiving you if you explain yourself," you said.

"Ugh, it's so cringe," Riki said. "I feel lame as shit talking about it. Fine. I'm a half demon on my dad's side."

You looked up at him, and he offered you a weak smile. "I know," he said, "it's stupid. But that's what I am. Normally, I can control my human form, but when demons become of age, and they uh, see or smell blood, it makes them, uh..."

"Horny?" you offered.

"Hungry," Riki said. "It makes us go kinda crazy."

"Is that why you replaced all the knives with fake ones?"

Riki nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. And why I can't be around you when you're on your period."

"Well, what would happen if you were?"

Riki screwed his mouth up as he thought. "I'd probably fuck you until you were passed out and while you were passed out and we'd have period sex for a week straight."

You shrugged. "I don't see a problem with this."

Riki snickered and kissed the top of your head. "Gross bitch."

"You're literally a creature."

Riki mock-gasped. "That's a slur." He tried to maintain a poker face for added effect but failed, laughing loudly. His laughter was always contagious, so you did the same.

Maybe, just maybe, being roommates with Riki wouldn't be so bad.

THE RULES ˒˒ 최연준

you would think that by now you would know the rules, right? apparently not, since yeonjun always has to keep reminding you—whores don't get to cum.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi yeonjun x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ pure smut, established relationship

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex (don’t!), heavy overstimulation, MEANN mean dom!yeonjun, rough sex, mentions of a blowjob, orgasm denial, free use and somnophilia (consensually!!), edging, teasing, degradation kink, petnames (baby, my love, good girl), name calling (whore, slut, cumslut, fuck toy), hair pulling, spanking, dacryphilia, creampie, manhandling, dirty talk

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ wrote this while ovulating and i never needed yeonjun more in my entire life… this literally took a ridiculously long time to write, i’m sorry to those waiting lol i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 4.3k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was the best day of yeonjun’s life. in fact, he couldn’t think of a better way to be woken up—even if he was going to have to punish you for it.

what shocked him—and especially you—the most was how much you were able to do before his eyes cracked open. you had pulled the blankets off of him, pulled down his shorts and boxers, and had stroked and sucked his cock until it hardened. then, you slid onto it and began bouncing, the movement then waking him.

you looked so cute coming undone on top of him, breathy moans coming from your parted lips that were followed by low whines. it was cute how you thought you wouldn’t wake him. yeonjun’s hands slid up your bare thighs and to your hips, shocking you out of your sweet bliss.

yeonjun watched blearily as his cock disappeared and reappeared from inside your pretty, glistening pussy. his eyes trailed up the curve of your body and watched the way your tits bounced up and down. his eyes then landed on your face—which was previously thrown back, but now you stared down at him through furrowed eyebrows of slight horror. “s-sorry!” you choked out between heavy breaths as you didn’t bother to slow or stop. “needed you!”

a wicked smirk formed on yeonjun’s lips as he laid back onto his pillow and stared up at you. you knew you were in trouble, but the thought only made you wetter and pushed you to move faster. you savored the way your skin slapped against his and the wet sounds that came from where the two of you met. you knew that when the two of you had agreed on using each other whenever you’d like that there would still be rules. mainly rules for you to follow—rules that you were currently breaking.

yeonjun’s thumbs rubbed circles onto your hips as his grip tightened. “whatever my baby wants, she can get,” he cooed and then tutted. you heard the double meaning in his words and a shiver ran up your spine from it. punishment. you were going to be punished.

the last time you hadn’t followed the rules, yeonjun went easy on you—or, at least, that’s what he claimed. you weren’t allowed to touch him, or yourself. only he was allowed to do that—which he didn’t. for a whole month. once that month was over and you were so needy for him that you debated on tearing off his clothes and breaking even more rules, he finally gave you what you wanted. the long hours of your face pushed into a pillow as you were rammed into from behind, or being taken in various different positions that made you extremely sore until you could barely walk after was treacherous, but you had felt so good during it all so it was well worth it. that was your thought process now.

“will you be able to take it, my love?” yeonjun asked sweetly. his hand moved from your hip to between your thighs where his thumb instead rubbed circles into your aching clit. you gasped, hips bucking towards his hand as you moved up and down. you bit down hard on your bottom lip, eyebrows still furrowed as you nodded desperately. you didn’t care what the punishment was this time, all you needed was for him to start fucking you.

that was all the confirmation yeonjun needed as he sat up and wrapped an arm around your waist. in one swift motion you were on your back and he was on top of you. with the new position, you felt just how much yeonjun’s big cock stretched you out. that feeling only grew when he moved your legs to rest on his shoulder and he started pounding into you at a rough and fast pace.

you cried out, fingers gripping the bed sheets and eyes squeezing shut, as the knot in your stomach tightened and tightened until it was about to snap. “please, please, please,” you whimpered as your walls fluttered around him, “p-please let me cum.”

yeonjun stifled out a harsh laugh, “you thought it was gonna be this easy? i thought you knew this…” he tilted his head at you in faux pity and gave it a slight shake, “whores don’t get to cum.” tears fell from your eyes, not only from the immense pleasure you felt but also from his words. you shook your head rapidly and swallowed thickly.

“please…” you trailed off, looking up at yeonjun through blurred eyes. he just laughed and kissed you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips. he pulled away from you just as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, making you chase his lips.

“should’ve thought about that earlier. you wanted me to fuck you so bad, huh, slut? well, i’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you don’t even have the words to beg to cum,” yeonjun said in a low voice with a smile. you had started to clench around his cock and he swiftly pulled out, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. he pumped his wet cock slowly over top of you as he looked down at you. the morning light from the open window shadowed him, making him appear almost holy in a demented way.

“such a pretty little slut, just couldn’t wait her turn… how pathetic,” yeonjun sighed as he slid back into you. he pushed your knees to your chest and fucked you agonizingly slowly. you bucked your hips up, walls fluttering around his thick cock only for him to pull out again with a cruel laugh.

“so fucking pathetic…” he laughed, hand coming to grip your chin as he roughly placed his lips against yours in a wet, open mouthed kiss. you whined against his lips, needing some friction—any friction from his body against yours.

yeonjun thought you looked the most beautiful when you were like this; completely needy for him with blown out pupils full of lust and cheeks streaked with tears. squirming underneath him desperate for any type of movement on his part—even if it was the light trail of his fingertips. it made the blood rush directly to his already hard cock. “fuck! you drive me fuckin’ insane,” he groaned out, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes.

he pushed into you again with shallow strokes, laughing when he had to press down onto your legs to keep you from moving. yeonjun pulled out again and you whined. you were so close to cumming but everytime you were right near the edge he would yank you back.

yeonjun grabbed your arms, pulling you into a sitting position before roughly pushing you so you were now on your stomach with your ass up in the air. you felt his hard cock against your ass and you shaked your hips a little against it. you then felt his fingers in your hair and the sharp burning sensation as he dragged you back towards him with it. “you’ll be a good girl and do everything jjunie says, right?” yeonjun asked you, nodding slightly.

he stared down into your eyes, your back arched to the point where it was almost uncomfortable so he got a good view of your face. his eyes were dark and you could practically see the lust swirling in them. yeonjun pressed his hips harder into your ass and his grip in your hair tightened when you didn’t answer him. “right?” he repeated, harsher.

through your labored breathing and the burning pain at your scalp, you nodded. yeonjun smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before releasing his grip of your hair. you fell face forward into the bedsheets and used your wobbling arms to push yourself back up, looking back at him. your arousal was dripping all over his cock that was currently pressed into your bare pussy. without thinking, you rocked your hips backwards, moaning at the brief sensation of your clit dragging against his length.

smack!

it took a moment to register the sharp pain to the flesh of your ass, and another to hear yeonjun’s tsking. “such a fucking whore, can’t even wait for me to stick my cock inside you before you’re rubbing up against it. i should just use you like the fuck toy you are and be done with it.”

you immediately shook your head rapidly, pleas falling from your mouth. “no, please! i’ll be good, promise!”

yeonjun sighed, amusement leaking into it. his hand found it’s way into your hair again and he pulled until your ass was pressing against him. “cute. if you’re good for me i might even let you cum today. you want that, don’t you, baby?”

you nodded again.

“good,” yeonjun started. you desperately wished you could turn to look at him once you felt the absence of his body against yours. the anticipation was eating you alive as you waited to find out what he was going to do to you. a shocked gasp left your parted lips as the entirety of his length was abruptly pushed into you, your wetness making the process easier.

yeonjun slowly pulled out of you until you felt just his tip at the base of your entrance before he slowly pushed back into you as he spoke, “i’m going to give you a pace to go at—and you better keep up with it. you got that? you’ll keep going without stopping until i fill you up and tell you to stop, okay, my pretty cumslut?”

you opened your mouth to protest. you knew his pace was going to be rough, it always was, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up with it without cumming around him. you were already so close.

smack!

yeonjun’s free hand rubbed over the soft, burning skin of your ass, soothing it slightly as he roughly pulled you back to him. his breath fanned against your ear as he said harshly, “you. got. that?”

his hand then snaked between your thighs to rub circles into your neglected clit, slow strokes still teasing you. more tears fell from your eyes as you nodded. “y-yes,” you replied shakily, breath hitching as a moan ripped through you.

yeonjun backed away, gripping lessening and the circles at your clit ceasing. you breathed a sigh of relief too soon as then his hips snapped against yours at a rapid and unforgiving pace. you cried out, body giving out but being forced into the same position by your hair, as your fingers tightened around the sheets. yeonjun groaned behind you, not even bothering to mask his pleasure from all of this.

his hips stilled, breathing heavy. he rubbed the flesh of your sore ass, hand then resting there as a constant reminder. “like that, now be a good little slut and make me cum, yeah?”

you inhaled short breaths to try and fill your lungs, legs already starting to wobble underneath you. “t-too fast, jjunie!”

yeonjun’s hand on your ass kneaded at the flesh a little before smacking it again, hard. you let out a small whimper, back arching. “i don’t care. you said you’d do what i say, right? so start moving your pretty ass on my cock and make me fucking cum. isn’t this what you wanted when you decided to wake me, dirty slut? move, or it will get a lot worse for you from here. don’t you see i’m trying to be nice?”

gulping, you began to do as you were told. your pace was a lot slower than the one yeonjun set for you, but it was the best you could do. there was another harsh slap to your ass and burning at your scalp. you were now face to face with yeonjun. anger etched his features and you knew better than to open your mouth again. “faster,” he spit out.

your tears dripped down your neck as you tried to go faster. you body didn’t know whether to whimper from all of the overstimulation or moan from all of the pleasure as you fucked yourself on yeonjun’s cock. he ran his fingers through his hair in his face before leaning down to press a rough kiss to your lips. the sheer wet sounds that filled your shared bedroom edged you on along with you wanting to make yeonjun cum. you pushed yourself to go even faster.

your brows knitted together as your mouth fell open against yeonjun’s, loud moans being slightly muffled by his lips. yeonjun’s lips moved from your mouth to your salty wet cheeks and you felt his smirk against your skin. “that’s it, baby. f-fuck…” yeonjun moaned, “keep fucking yourself on my cock, you nasty whore. don’t you dare stop.”

yeonjun’s mouth fell near your ear and you heard his shameless moans and whines even louder. they just turned you on further and your hips bucked forward as you felt your walls flutter around his cock again. you whimpered and went to move your hand between your thighs to rub at your sore, swollen clit.

yeonjun yanked you back by your hair before your fingers could reach it. he laughed wryly in your ear, “you should fucking know better than to touch yourself right now. are you trying to make me angry?”

you cried out again from the pain and shook your head. you didn’t entirely believe yourself. the only thought running through your mind was how you wanted him to fuck you so hard you came instead of you pathetically fucking yourself on him while he watched. you wanted to see his expressions when he fucked into you and felt how good you made him feel, not the plain sheets of your bed. maybe you were trying to anger him.

your walls tightened around him and yeonjun cursed under his breath as he pulled away from you. “keep going,” he ordered.

you sniffled, the tears blurring your vision. surely he didn’t want you to keep moving with how close to cumming you were, right? not wanting to lose the opportunity to cum at all, you kept at your pace. you pleaded with him to let you stop, that you were so close, but they all fell on deaf ears.

you couldn’t take it anymore. your movements stilled and you looked at his distorted figure with pleading eyes. heavy labored breaths ripped from your chest and your body shook to the point that you could almost hear your bones rattle. “it’s too m-much, jjunie… can’t go f-further…”

yeonjun tutted. another loud smack was heard throughout the room.

“i’m not going to set the pace for you again.” yeonjun slammed into you. you yelped loudly, throat already feeling hoarse as you tried to pull your body away from his. he just pulled you back by your hair. the pain at your scalp was starting to become intolerable, but you felt so good. loud sputtering moans ripped from your chest as your eyes squeezed shut. “go fucking faster.”

yeonjun’s speech was clipped and you could tell that he was close. swallowing thickly, you dragged yourself along him again, babbling out apologies. you got as close to his pace as you could, whimpering each time you felt the tip of his cock press against your sweet spot. his lips were on yours in a heated and sloppy kiss.

his hand fell from your hair, giving you brief relief, as they trailed up your stomach and towards your bouncing tits. his touch left the skin underneath it ignited. he kneaded them, thumb rubbing your sensitive nipples as he kissed you deeper from the awkward angle you were at. you moaned against his mouth and he took the opportunity to trail a hand down your stomach while you were distracted.

you gasped loudly as his fingers rubbed hard circles into your clit again. on instinct, you moved from against his chest—wet pussy pulling off his hard cock in the process—at the jolt of lightning that strikes through your body. “p-please… please,” you begged. you begged for him to let you cum. for him to end this torment. he snuffed out your plea with another rough kiss.

yeonjun pressed down on your chest, pulling you back towards him and in turn, staking you directly back onto his big cock. he groaned loudly against your lips and you felt his warm cum spill into you and paint your walls white. he broke away from you, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his, before he roughly pushed you down towards the sheets. his big hands gripped tightly at your hips.

“since you don’t know how to fucking listen, fucking useless slut—“ yeonjun landed another hard smack on your ass and you flew forwards, another moan escaping your mouth. “and you don’t know how to follow simple directions…”

his words were raspy as he pushed them out through low grunts, hips pressed firmly to your ass so none of his cum spilled out. “moaning like a goddamn whore and you’re not even truly sorry about it…” he reeled his hips back and slammed into you, a loud squelching sound from his cum bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. “but you will be.”

you couldn’t help yourself as another loud pathetic moan poured out of you. you could practically feel your boyfriend’s smirk burning into the back of your head. yeonjun pulled out of you and you whined at the sudden loss, walls clenching around nothing. “get up and turn around,” he demanded.

yeonjun laid down onto the bed, tapping his thigh twice, and you climbed over him. he lined his cock with your entrance with a smile at how his cum dripped out of you and down his length before grabbing your hips. you slid down the rest of it with a small broken gasp, yeonjun groaning beneath you. he then moved his arms behind his head, looking up at you expectantly with a tilted head. you realized too late that he just put you in the position you woke him up with.

“bounce on it.”

your eyes widened and slowly you started to shake your head, trembling legs squeezing around his thighs. you could barely sit up—let alone bounce on his cock. heat crept up your neck. “jjunie, please—“

“you want to cum, yes?” he mused and you nodded gingerly. “you wanted to cum so bad, pathetically getting yourself off with my cock, yet now you’re shy?”—his lips pushed into a pout, one full just as much mockery as his tone of voice—“put that pretty cunt to good use then and be lucky my cock isn’t down your fuckin’ throat right now, baby.”

“but—“

“bounce on it. i’m not touching you.” he made himself more comfortable, arms still behind his head as he watched you intently.

shakily, you lifted yourself up on wobbly knees and dropped back down onto yeonjun’s cock. you screwed your eyes shut as you whimpered. you lifted yourself up again and dropped back down, skin slapping harshly against his. you were breathing heavily and the shaking all throughout your body only seemed to worsen. you heard your boyfriend snicker. “surely you can do better than that,” yeonjun deadpanned.

gulping as more tears formed in your eyes, you lifted your hips again and dropped back down. yeonjun sighed, grabbing your hips roughly as he fucked up into you. you cried out, briefly falling over before one of yeonjun’s hands pushed you back and you had no choice but to catch yourself on your hands. your chest heaved at the sudden switch in angle and you cried out once more, tits bouncing from his thrusts.

yeonjun stilled, hard cock still buried inside your weeping cunt, as he returned his arms back behind his head. “bounce.”

pushing yourself flat onto your feet, your body shook tremendously. with great effort, you used the last of your fleeting strength to lift your hips up and down. slowly, you dragged yourself across the length of yeonjun’s cock, eyes downcast to avoid his—no doubt—annoyed stare. “look at me,” you heard him say and the heat spread across your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you.

you dragged your eyes upward from his toned abs. yeonjun annoyance was clear on his face, features twisted in a borderline glare as his brows furrowed together. god, you felt yourself get even wetter—if it was even possible. he is just so goddamn hot when he’s pissed off.

“how the fuck am i suppose to get off to this? go faster.”

you babbled more apologies while nodding your head, but he wasn’t having any of it. you weren’t that sorry anyways. you secretly hoped that he would show you more pity and instead fuck you himself. “don’t be sorry, go faster. you’re pissing me off.”

you struggled out a breath and moved your hips again, legs shaking and hips bucking slightly as you tried to increase the pace but couldn’t. you were so close, so-so close. you dropped back down onto his cock, falling down onto his chest.

“alright,” you heard yeonjun mumble lowly next to your ear. you winced in pain, sharp cry leaving your lips from the sudden pain at your sore scalp. yeonjun pulled you back by your hair and sat the two of you up.

in the blink of an eye, you were pushed on your back—knees pressed tightly to your chest in a mating press as yeonjun railed into you. you begged for him to slow down through broken sobs but all he did was hiss out a cruel “shut up and fucking take it, desperate slut. you wanted me to fuck you like this, so i am.”

shrill moans left your mouth and you clawed at yeonjun’s back as your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. he was fucking you so deep that you saw stars, and he was right—it was exactly what you wanted. words died in your throat and your brows knitted together as the rope tightened in your stomach. you clenched down hard onto yeonjun’s cock and he moaned, head falling into the crook of your neck briefly, warm breath tickling your collarbone. “f-fuck! squeezing me so damn tight…”

wet noises and loud moans bounced off the walls, filling your ears and making you more aroused. yeonjun’s thrusts staggered and he dragged out, “fuck, baby…”

he pressed deep into you as his warm, white ropes of cum filled you to the brim once again. you whimpered, desperate to cum yourself. yeonjun’s head was thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth wide open as the last bit of cum dripped out of him and into your cunt. he moaned, eyes opening to look down at you before leaning down to kiss you sloppily. he started to fuck into you again, rough and hard. you could feel his cum dripping from out of you at the process with its lewd noises.

you whimpered again loudly, kissing him back with desperation as tears wet your cheeks. “shut the fuck up,” yeonjun said against your lips. he pulled away from you and took his still hard cock out. you resisted the urge to whine as he pushed himself off of you and moved to the edge of the bed.

you laid on the bed alone, mind completely blank besides the want to finally be able to cum yourself. your body shook with a passion and you were filled to the brim and sticky with yeonjun’s cum. your poor, aching and abused pussy throbbed from both pain and pleasure and your scalp was on fire. still, you wouldn’t have it any other way. you’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

yeonjun returned, clothes on properly as he sat on the end of the bed and looked back at you. “c’mere,” he spoke, words soft like cotton. you didn’t think you could move, but you willed yourself to get up on your wobbly knees to crawl the short distance towards him. he bent you across his lap and landed a hard slap against your ass. you almost forgot about the soreness with how overstimulated your body was.

you reeled forward, a half shocked gasp and loud whine parting from your lips. yeonjun’s hand smoothed over your ass and parted your legs slightly so he could rub at your swollen clit. you inhaled sharply as you squirmed around in his lap but had nowhere to go with his other hand pressed firmly against your waist. “you act like a fuckin’ whore again and i’ll not only ruin your pretty little pussy—“ he leaned in next to your ear “—i’ll ruin that pretty face of yours too.”

yeonjun slapped your ass hard again, hand still sliding across your clit from the slick of his cum, as he laughed at your squirming. you breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he finally stopped and released you. “go clean yourself up, i’m not done with you yet.”

again, you willed yourself to move as you climbed weakly out of his lap. pain shot up for legs as you stood and it only got worse with each step you struggled to take towards the bathroom. you were almost halfway there when yeonjun called your name and you looked back at him.

his eyes trailed up your pathetically shaking body with a smug smirk, still sat in his same spot as before but with his arms crossed against his chest. “get ready to wrap that dirty mouth around my cock, baby.” he made eye contact with you, “and if you’re a good girl, i’ll finally let you cum.”

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I AM FUCKING OBSESSED THIS IS SO WELL WRITTEN OMFG

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.” 

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought. 

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it. 

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky. 

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over. 

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.” 

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like. 

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids? 

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!” 

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery. 

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.” 

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses. 

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing. 

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced. 

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received. 

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.” 

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed. 

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing? 

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips. 

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons. 

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests. 

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth. 

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).  

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks. 

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’. 

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air. 

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes. 

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned. 

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.” 

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?” 

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!” 

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent. 

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that. 

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still. 

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once. 

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.” 

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat. 

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.”  _____________________________

You thought about quitting. 

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck. 

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine. 

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing. 

“Hey, titty-shirt!” 

The loveliness was ruined. 

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words. 

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction. 

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!” 

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring). 

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.” 

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.” 

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house. 

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.” 

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.” 

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?” 

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers. 

“Okay.” 

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered. 

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway. 

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides. 

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks. 

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?” 

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose. 

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive. 

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?” 

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.” 

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs. 

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt. 

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen. 

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita. 

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!” 

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand. 

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-” 

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.” 

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-” 

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.” 

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.” 

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit. 

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him. 

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.” 

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles. 

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.” 

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed. 

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.” 

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?” 

“Yeah, evidence.” 

“EVIDENCE?” 

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet. 

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed. 

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines. 

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” 

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic. 

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at. 

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?” 

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled. 

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly. 

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?” 

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child. 

“Alright, but-” 

“Yes!” 

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good. 

“What happened to Belinda?” 

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.” 

“She has kids?!” 

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins. 

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean. 

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork. 

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight. 

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.” 

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way. 

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?” 

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours. 

“I think you love being treated like a slut.” 

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?” 

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider. 

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?” 

“JEONGHAN!” 

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing. 

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious. 

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath. 

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster. 

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips. 

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you. 

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back. 

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again. 

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back. 

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt. 

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them. 

You went to work. 

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing. 

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic. 

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.” 

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little. 

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate. 

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans. 

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows. 

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached. 

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm. 

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.” 

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head. 

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips. 

“I’m tired, you just go.” 

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit. 

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat. 

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants. 

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-” 

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?” 

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-” 

“Well, then give us a ride?!” 

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left. 

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-” 

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!” 

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-” 

You’re not even sure why you lied. 

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!” 

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face. 

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-” 

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child. 

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted. 

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?” 

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-” 

“Why are you crying?” 

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had  tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern. 

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made  you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual. 

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..” 

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up. 

God, you were pathetic. 

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. 

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar. 

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-” 

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him. 

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes. 

There was a significant pause. 

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation. 

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?” 

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush. 

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you. 

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket. 

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling. 

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it. 

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze. 

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great. 

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt. 

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser. 

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his. 

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen. 

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!” 

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing. 

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing. 

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-” 

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground. 

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae. 

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other. 

His hand dropped from your lips. 

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless. 

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?” 

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.” 

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in. 

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well. 

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?” 

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?” 

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.” 

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park. 

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway. 

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?” 

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed. 

“You’ll see.” 

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful. 

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis. 

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly. 

“What do you think?” 

Jeonghan was looking at you. 

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.” 

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well. 

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other. 

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.” 

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you. 

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained. 

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back. 

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.” 

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?” 

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second. 

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?” 

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-” 

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you. 

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face. 

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically. 

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky. 

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly. 

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.” 

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.” 

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body. 

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily. 

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around. 

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.” 

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance. 

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear. 

“Jeonghan, please touch me-” 

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble. 

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing. 

“Jeonghan, I can’t-” 

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway. 

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it. 

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch. 

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest. 

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder. 

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.” 

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection. 

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off. 

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now. 

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties. 

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this. 

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties. 

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear. 

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.” 

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly. 

“N-ngh, fuck..” 

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.” 

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine. 

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it. 

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-” 

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face. 

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. 

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole. 

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-” 

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming. 

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face. 

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.” 

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.” 

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs. 

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit. 

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin. 

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying. 

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs. 

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples 

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it. 

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly. 

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply. 

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling. 

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.” 

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating. 

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.” 

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows. 

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock. 

It was long and right by your fucking face. 

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.” 

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up. 

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane. 

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin. 

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture. 

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?” 

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting. 

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage. 

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.” 

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply. 

Or almost perfect. 

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you. 

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.” 

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue. 

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly. 

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth: 

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

“Please help me find a doctor. He’s still warm.”

This is one of my favourite shots from the whole movie (I’ve been obsessing over the opening sequence for weeks - the song and the emotions are just so good every time!). Its a stupidly subtle thing, but the way he lifts the baby up and then just dramatically holds it there, and then the wind blows to reveal this gesture and silhouette extremely clearly like he has made his choice and the audience realize for a second time even more clearly just what he is doing. It’s just. UGH, IT’S TOO GOOD.