Synopsis: You had an arranged marriage with your now husband Kim Namjoon and you are on the way to your husband's farmhouse for honeymoon. Do your feelings will change for him or not?
Warnings‼️: sexual tension, breast play, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this guys) ending sucks (if this is a warning but I think you might need this warning 💁♀️)
Kim seokjin
Hotel room
Paring: jin x plus size reader
Description: What would happen when you came at Jeju island for vacation with your best friend and you both have to share the same room?
Warnings‼️: smut, a little bit of nipple play, (I think this are the only warnings?)
Min yoongi
In process.........
Jung hoseok
Dancer
Paring: dancer Jhope x dancer plus size reader
Warnings ‼️: sexual content, a little bit of sexual tension, fingering, the ending is thrash ( I think that's it?)
Park jimin
In process........
Kim taehyung
My mate
Paring: alpha taehyung x plus size beta reader
Warnings‼️: sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, pus*y eating (nothing more I think so?)
Jeon jungkook
Crush
Paring: Jungkook x reader/chubby reader
Synopsis: You and your crush in the same room nothing will happen right?
Warnings‼️: insecurities, nipple play, unprotected sex ( please don't do this guys), fingering (that's all?).
Missed You
Paring: jungkook x reader/chubby reader
Synopsis: In which you break up with jungkook due to some personal reasons but after a year you meet him again in a club and jungkook wants to know why you broke up with him, not letting you go this time. (Read to know what happens further).
Warnings‼️: nipple play, unprotected sex ( please don't do this guys), fingering, possesive jungkook, jealous jungkook, creampie, sad tae(?), drinking(that's all?).
Marvel
Steve Rogers
Doll
Paring: Dark Steve Rogers x Chubby reader/reader
Synopsis: The guy you fell in love with changed into someone else that nobody expected him to be.
Warnings: fingering, edging, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex ( please don't ever do this guys), breeding kink, nipple play (this is all?)
Bucky Barnes
Saviour
Paring: Bucky x plus size reader/ any reader
Synopsis: Bucky saves you and takes you his home. What happens when you see him half naked sitting in his living room.
Warnings‼️: grinding, nipple play, choking, spanking, unprotected sex (don't ever do this guys), fingering, Bucky himself (🥴🤌).
Daredevil
In process.....
Tony stark
I love you
Paring: Tony stark x Chubby reader/reader
Summary: You were bored and go to Tony's house with him when things starts to heat up.
Warning: a little bit of jealousy, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (please don't do this guys)
ENHYPEN
Sunghoon
Leave him
Paring: Sunghoon x chubby reader/anyone can read this
Genre: smut, fluff
Summary: you don't want to do it, not when you are in a relationship, not when you are laying beside your boyfriend but you can't help it but think about your boyfriend's friend so you let it all go and knock on his door for more...
Warnings‼️: fingering, cheating, nipple play, nipple sucking, humping, unprotected sex (don't do it guys), creampie, lots of kissing, hair pulling, sunghoon being desperate, pet names, soft sunghoon but a little mean, aftercare etc..
Jake
Please
Pairing: Jake x chubby reader/any reader
Warning: unprotected sex(don't do it), coming on stomach, etc..
Summary: jake begs you to let him in raw.
Heeseung
Library
Pairing: Nerd heeseung x innocent chubby reader/any reader
Warning: unprotected sex(Don't do it), fingering, creampie, grinding, a little mean heeseung, praising, public sex, etc...
Genre: smut, fluff
Summary: nothing just heeseung fucking you in a corner of library.
For now i will only write for them. I will be adding every fic that I write here.
SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. Really. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.
PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 24k+
GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes
WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, graphic sexual content, y/n lowkey mean, ragebaiter!bf jake, tsundere!gf reader, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer (im sorry to 🦅). Full list to be updated.
You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.
៸៸៸ minors do not interact!
៸៸៸ simp gamer ! lee heeseung x afab reader
៸៸៸ wc: 30k
៸៸៸ tags: smut, sister’s boyfriend trope, exhibitionism and voyeurism, dom heeseung, he is also unemployed lol, gaming antics, discord streaming, sexting, sex bets, shameless behavior, food mentions, alcohol use, implied sickness due to said alcohol, jake, sunghoon, and jay as the gamer friends who have a bet going. also the guys who get to watch….kind of.
៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: cheating/infidelity, dubcon-ish at one instance, heeseung is mean and manipulative. instances where jake, jay, and sunghoon take advantage of a situation where reader is drunk (conversation based), the reader can be lifted, visibly marked, has hair that can have fingers ran through it, and blushes visibly.
៸៸៸ a/n: this fic was written for heeseung's gf @drunkhazed! i really loved the idea, as you can see, i kind of went crazy with it. i hope it lives up to your imagination but maybe not idk. you better love it anyway oomfie, bc i loved writing it for u. this fic was briefly edited but likely still has a million typos and grammar errors.
៸៸៸ nsfw tags below
៸៸៸ nsfw tags: 10” heeseung, dubcon-ish at one instance, masturbation, pillow humping, cum eating, degradation, hentai watching, sexting, sex on camera, blow job, voyeurism, exhibitionism, deep penetration, cream pie, breeding, blood and spit, one mention of piss but no actual piss (form of degradation), fingers down your throat.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Walking into an empty room has never felt so freeing, especially in knowing this is your space. Safe from your parents, bare and ready to be adorned with all of the things you hold dear to you. What’s even better? It’s bigger than your room back home, and you even have a little attached bathroom of your own.
Life is great. You think studying here will ease your mind and allow you to graduate top of your class by the time it’s all over and done with. If you could kiss your sister, you would, really.
You remember being kids and the two of you promising that when you grow up, you’d live together and never grow apart. After actually growing up though, she finished her degree and went off on her own, leaving you by yourself with no one to get you through the hardships of becoming a college student yourself.
With her working full time for several years and you struggling your own way to the top, she really did follow through with that young childhood promise.
“Why don’t you come live with me through college? I’m sure it would be easier than living with all those rules.”
You didn’t even think twice and had your bags packed a single day after the invitation. You stayed up all night getting it done, emptying your childhood room filled with both good and bad memories. Alas, you did have to wait until the spring semester was over though. Thankfully, you were only sleeping in a packed up room for about a week.
You find yourself here now, with your sister lovingly making lunch in the kitchen while her boyfriend, who you have only met briefly at holiday gatherings, stays in the office-turned-gaming room hooting and howling over some game he’s playing.
“Don’t mind him.” She half-smiles when he doesn’t immediately head for the kitchen, making her own plate and moving to the table with a sense of annoyance. “He’ll be out in a bit, it’s a pretty normal occurrence.”
“You don’t think it’s rude?” You furrow your brows now, automatically assuming that your sister deserves a man willing to work just as much as she does. Still, you don’t entirely mind that you weren’t forced into an official meeting of the man of the house first thing when you walked in.
“Nah, not really. Been dating him for years, I knew what I signed up for when I moved him in.” She smiles while shaking her head, seemingly accepting all of his positives and negatives.
“Does he not have a job?” You pry, picking at your plate and trying to memorize his actual name because for a little while, you really started to wonder if his name was just a variation of “honey” and “babe”. Thankfully not.
“He’s looking for one.” She says, looking at you and trying to read your judgment. “Before you say anything, he has money. Or–well, his parent’s have money. They pay his half of the rent right now.”
You shrug, noting that she really does seem happy and you’d be the best person to judge her level of fulfillment outside of herself anyway. You trust that she picked the right man, even if he’s still screaming in the other room with an empty stomach.
“By the way…” She says with a wicked smile, one that you remember growing up with. The other end of that smile always ends with some sort of…antic. “We’re throwing you a welcome party this weekend. Inviting all of our friends too, so it’s easier for you to start being social on this side of town.”
You would groan, but growing up in your childhood home with your parents never came with parties. No birthdays at home, no sleepovers, nothing. Hell, they wouldn’t even allow you to attend other parties as a child, and going to college parties was out of the question.
The only party you ever attended was during the time you snuck out. They made damn sure you never snuck out again after that mishap as well.
“Oh, really?” You chew and speak at the same time, not minding your manners at all considering you can get away with it now. “Is there gonna be alcohol?”
“Oh, yes, yes.” She smiles again. “Gonna give you a proper party since, you know.”
You nod to her and you both laugh together at the found freedom you share, and then, well, the king of screaming like a toddler walks in. His hair looks like shit, an indent at the top of the messy locks indicating that he must have had his headset on for a long fucking time. Loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, eyes sleepy and red, probably burning from the sunlight coming through the windows, and some sort of smile on his face. He looks at his girlfriend with that tired smile, about to thank her for the meal, then his eyes trail to you.
“Oh fuck–” His hands raise to run his fingers through his hair, then both rest on the back of his neck as he lets out a big sigh. “Was that today?”
You give him the side eye of all side eyes at this moment. Reminding yourself how you and your sister spent all morning hauling your stuff in without his help. She also did say he would have put together your desk, dresser, shelf, and bed frame by the time you got here. Well, he didn’t.
“Yep.” She pops the p on the end of her word indicating passive aggressive annoyance.
“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, placing his empty plate right back into the cupboard and making his way to your room. “I’ll do it now. I’m sorry babe.”
Your sister nods triumphantly, watching your look of surprise in reaction to the way he instantly appears to fix his mistake without more than a single word from her.
“He knows when he fucks up. He was supposed to do it yesterday but as you can see, he hasn’t left his PC since like, nine o’ clock last night.” She shrugs.
You laugh, furrowing your brow at her.
“I really didn’t expect him to be so lazy, sis, I always figured you’d be dating a doctor or something.”
She brushes off her shoulders with a proud look, leaning towards you with a smile.
“He was working a really good job but I could see how unhappy he was. I’m giving him a year or two to figure himself out. He’s been back and forth trying new things, hasn’t quite landed on anything he likes yet though.”
She is a fucking saint. Honestly, Heeseung might be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman willing to do such a thing for him.
“Woah,” You start, taking a sip of your water. “He’s trying to make it as a streamer right now, I take it?”
She shakes her head with an eye roll.
“Not really, he’s just always spent as much free time as possible playing but, I trust that he’ll figure something out sooner rather than later.”
And you pry for a while longer. Learning about all of the things your sister and Heeseung do together, learning about her friends and his friends, the rules of the house, and the not-rules of the house. For instance, you’re allowed to bring home hook-ups or dates if you give a fair warning so she doesn’t have to hear it. However, the food in the fridge is for the house occupants only, and people need to ask before opening the cupboards and filling their plates. Of course, unless there is a party.
Another rule, which was a bit too much information but you figure it’s fair since everyone here is an adult. She and Heeseung apparently have a pretty active sex life and apologized in advance for some of the things you may end up hearing. She also noted that there will be ear plugs if you need them, but that she suggests throwing on some headphones and ignoring it. Fair enough, it’s her house anyway.
And after a few hours pass, Heeseung makes his way out of your room with a smile on his face. You remember seeing him maybe two or three times during the holidays but he never mingled with you. He never mingled with anyone, actually. He tended to keep to himself, with his loose fitting outfits always sticking out in the awkward family photos that your sister would sneak him into. That’s all you can really recall about him.
It is kind of strange seeing him in his natural habitat of your sister’s house. Already, you’ve seen more personality in him than you ever did during the brief meetings. It’s kind of nice to see him proudly nodding his head to your bedroom as if to invite you in properly like he should have done hours ago when you arrived. He took it upon himself to rearrange the room for maximum space. Arguably, you’re impressed.
“I unpacked some of your things too.” He comments as he hugs your sister from behind in the doorway. “Needed to make sure the dresser drawers wouldn’t cave in.”
Your eyes trail to the pretty dresser, painted white with even prettier trim on it. It’s the first time you’ve ever had a matching bedroom set. You head over and take a peek in the drawers, noting that he didn’t just haphazardly throw your clothes in there.
Top drawer, all of your undergarments are fucking folded. Second drawer, socks, tights, and leggings, third drawer, soft pajama sets also folded. And the fourth drawer remains empty.
You turn to look at him, embarrassed by the fact that he took it upon himself to do that. You can’t see a single shred of embarrassment in his own face though, and it appears he really was just being nice.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I do the laundry here so I’ll be folding those more often than you’d think.” He smiles, and your sister lends a chuckle.
“He’s gotta do something while I’m making most of the money.” She shrugs, totally fine with the fact that her boyfriend just handled every piece of underwear you own save for the ones you’re wearing.
“Closet too, hung up what I could but I’m like, really hungry so I figured I could leave the rest to you.”
You nod in appreciation, in awe of your new room and the soft, plush carpet on your floor. Your old room was hard wood with dust filled corners, it felt cold. Here though? You feel welcomed, warm, and cozy.
Hundreds of ideas flood your mind about how you want to decorate the room and as you go to start unpacking your miscellaneous items, your sister nods and backs out of the room with her boyfriend still hugging her from behind.
There, you’re left to your own devices.
Another thought crosses your mind when you hear the door close as well. The fact that you haven’t had a door to close for your bedroom since you snuck out all those years ago. The sound felt like music to your ears as you found yourself falling back on the bare mattress with a deep and relieved sigh.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
With all of the unpacking, wall art compositions, and napping in between, the week flew by quicker than you anticipated.
Waking up today, at half past two in the afternoon felt so good. Your duvet felt crispy, your room was completed and finally your own, and it felt safe. You could smell the breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and your sister’s voice paired with Heeseung ringing fondly at each other.
Little bit strange that you didn’t wake up to silence in the house, considering Heeseung is usually just now heading to sleep with that fucked up sleep schedule and your sister is normally lounging in the living room with a snack, iced coffee, and watching her favorite reality shows. Save for when she’s at work all day, of course.
Still, you slowly pull yourself out of bed feeling happy and refreshed, stepping into your attached bathroom to do your morning routine before exiting the room, and then heading into the kitchen with a small “good morning.”
“It’s nearly three in the afternoon.” Your sister smiles at you. “But good morning to you too sis.”
Heeseung, seemingly dressed for the day with a band tee and a beanie on, lends you a glance and a wave as he swings back and forth in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter in a bowl for your sister and unaware of the speckle of said batter stuck in a strand of his hair.
You lean over your sister’s shoulder after waving back to him, noting how she’s making little bite-sized pieces of pancake. Ah, this is the life, really.
“Well? Don’t just stand there? Pour some juice or something. We need a big meal before tonight.” Your sister laughs at your sleepy content hum from behind her, noting how you act much like she did when she first got out of the childhood home.
You take a step back, eyeing the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together as to why Heeseung is awake and dressed and why she’s making a big meal to begin with. Both your sister and Heeseung note the confusion on your face.
“Ah, she forgot.” He rumbles with a smirk, not keeping his eyes on you for too long as his focus falls back to mixing.
“Did you really forget?” Your sister rolls her eyes with a spatula in hand, turning to you and putting her other hand on her hip. “Everyone seems excited to meet you, they’ll probably start pouring in around six or seven tonight.”
“Oh, right! The party!” You exclaim, shocked that you really did forget about it. With your sister’s promise of alcohol, you assume that explains the large breakfast, and also probably why Heeseung doesn’t look like a total slob.
“Yeah, the party.” Heeseung snickers, his back turned away from you but overall acting as if you’ve already lived here for months. Throwing the same sarcasm at you that your sister does.
“Now go pour some juice, we have to go to the store after this and pick out drinks.” Your sister finally says, turning back to flip the pancakes in the pan. “You have drank since I moved out, right? You never wanted to try anything with me back then.”
You reluctantly nod your head, and your sister gasps fondly.
“Someone got into the liquor cabinet?”
You nod with a laugh, knowing that you learned how to do it from her despite always being too chicken as a teenager to do it with her. The curiosity of being drunk didn’t outweigh the fear of being caught at all for you, at the time anyway.
“Sunghoon is usually the one babysitting us, so no need to worry about pacing yourself.” Heeseung comments along with his sneaky side eye at you.
You don’t notice him do it at all, and even if you did you’d just assume it’s a passing glance. After all, you did open the fridge a little too hard.
“Sunghoon?” You ask.
“One of my friends,” He raises his hand to his hair to try and shake out the now, obvious, speckle of batter that’s starting to dry in the strands. “By the way, when you go to bed tonight– make sure you lock your door.” He continues, turning around now and leaning against the counter just to watch you lift on your toes for some of the cups in the cabinet.
His eyes watch the way you lift, your calf muscles flexing, your back arching slightly as you try to reach…And, well, he’s acting much like any man would, if he’s being honest, but ultimately he keeps his eyes to himself when your sister is turned or looking at him.
“Noted.” You nod without paying much attention, pouring the drinks and now moving the filled glasses to the table.
You make brief eye contact with him, noting how he’s already looking at you while your sister is simply listening, facing the other way and mostly just focused on not burning the pancakes.
“I’m serious. Lock your door.” He repeats, scanning your body and judging just how dangerous it is for you to be living here.
Mostly because he’s always found you quite cute, and he’s very aware that his friends probably will too. Hell, he’s already crossed a line with you since day one of you living here, he’s shocked you haven’t yet picked up on it, and knows very well that his friends will make moves instantly if you give them a chance. And with all things considered, you seem a bit too unaware of how attractive you are.
“Hm?” You raise a brow as you make your way back to the kitchen. “I was going to, but now you’re making it sound important.”
“Well,” Your sister chimes in, stepping back once and holding out her hand. Heeseung is quick adjust his eyes, handing the fresh bowl of batter to her with a kiss to her cheek as if he wasn’t just eye fucking you. “All of them are single, and you’re just about as good looking as I am.” She laughs half-heartedly.
She’s not trying to have an ego, but it’s best to warn you now at least. It’s not that she thinks she’s hot or anything, but she knows they think she is. And if that’s the case, they’re gonna be drooling over the younger, more single, version of herself.
Heeseung rolls his eyes now though, leaning back against the counter and scanning you again the second your sister has her back turned. This time more blatantly. Eyes landing on the curve of your hips to the length of your legs.
“Yeah.” He says, sucking in a breath with a half lidded gaze, letting his eyes trail down. “I’ll try to keep them at bay, though.”
For Heeseung, there is nothing wrong with looking. For you? You feel very seen by him and it’s kind of throwing you for a loop. Your appearance becomes the main point of conversation and it makes you want to kind of leave the kitchen.
“I doubt that’ll be an issue.” You try to laugh it off.
“No, seriously.” Your sister says, turning to look at you briefly to give you a serious expression. “Back when I first met Heeseung, all four of them were after me. I swear, they’re more than just competitive with their games.”
“I always win though.” Heeseung nods triumphantly, now keeping his eyes to himself and focusing more on his girlfriend.
“That, you do.” She boasts for him, leaning back after moving the pancakes to a plate and landing a kiss on his lips.
You study how they move together. So in sync, not stepping on each other’s toes, ultimately moving in harmony. Likes it natural to them. She really does look happy, and he just looks like a guy who doesn’t know where to land his gaze.
A normal guy, you think, who was given the same freedom your sister gives to you. It really is just who she is to take care of people, and the harsh judgment you originally had about Heeseung kind of fades a little bit as you watch them.
You try not to study him too much though because damn, your sister knows how to pick them in terms of like, scale of attractiveness. Heeseung is the type of guy the two of you would giggle over at the mall. The type you’d silently bicker over from behind a store rack of jackets, or perhaps even fantasize about during a long and boring tv show with your parents.
It’s not strange to find him attractive, because, well, he is. But you know your place here, and you’ve grown up to the point to know that you can appreciate a person’s looks and not need anything from them at the end of the day.
However, you kind of hope his friends are at the same level as him. For one, to avoid having a secret crush on Heeseung, because who wouldn’t? And secondly, they’re single, just like you.
Apparently they’re also a threat to the “innocence” both your sister and Heeseung seem to want to protect within you.
“I’ll lock my door.” You say finally, receiving a happy nod from both of them as they continue their cooking and you make your way to the table.
And while you do plan to lock your door, you also plan to take your time in getting dressed for the party. You kind of do want to be pounced at, or at least, feel the freedom of knowing you can look however you want without your parents forcing you into the ugliest outfit known to man. You know how to dress yourself, you’ve just never quite been allowed to do it. All those sneaky clothes your sister bought for you can finally come in handy.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
When your sister mentioned throwing you a welcome party, you expected a gathering of friends standing around awkwardly sipping wine coolers. What you didn’t expect was for there to be mood lighting, music, an array of nicely dressed people, and a large gaming set up in the living room where the big screen television was muted and a maximum of eight at a time could go head to head on super smash bros.
You found yourself enjoying it more and more as the night went on and you became more comfortable being greeted by strangers. Each drink you were handed mostly came from your sister, but by the time she stopped making her own drinks and began to drink whatever the hell-mix her friends were giving to her, Heeseung was the one handing you drinks.
“Come here–” Heeseung says over the blaring music, still floored by how good you look now versus how good you looked this morning. To him, the drinks he’s having paired with you running around looking like this? It’s even more dangerous than he thought as he continuously finds himself staring, and finds you seemingly still unaware of it.
“I’ll show you how to mix this one.”
Your sister was off somewhere in the house with her group of pretty friends, and you’ve really only briefly met everyone as they walked in the door. The drinks in your system make you want to actually mingle though. Everyone else is mingling, everyone else looks comfortable and happy to enjoy the party. It drives you to feel the same.
You nod to Heeseung with warmth in your cheeks, noting that he looks about as tipsy as you do when he stumbles his way back into the brightly lit kitchen with you. Your eyes burn at the light, as do his, and he groans at it before opening the fridge and pulling out the cranberry juice.
“Your sister said you’ve probably only chugged from a bottle, so I opted to give you the easiest drink to make.” He explains in a slight slur, setting the juice on the counter and ultimately knocking it with his elbow when he turns to grab the vodka bottle. “Cranberry juice and vodka.”
You feel endeared by his genuine smile and embarrassed laugh at the way he knocked over the juice, watching him in his own element and comfort zone. It makes you feel a little guilty that he’s been the one making your drinks, only because your sister must have asked him to by the time she got too drunk.
Heeseung seems to do just about everything she asks of him, and while you’re thankful, you feel a little bad that he’d probably rather be in the other room with his friends rather than trapped in this empty and terribly lit kitchen teaching you how to make a fucking mixed drink.
“I put about–” He starts, grabbing your cup and pouring it half full with vodka. “this much into yours.”
In your own state, it’s not like you’d know what’s too much or what’s too little to put into a drink, but so far everything he’s handed to you tasted good. So, you nod at him, attempting to focus in on the cup.
“And this much juice.” He continues, now pouring not enough juice into the vodka.
From this angle, watching him from behind, you pause for a moment in your tipsy brain. Distracted by the way his shoulders flex when he’s grabbing that big ass bottle of juice, but you’re quick to tear your eyes away. He’s just a nice looking guy, dressed up for the first time since you moved in, you can’t fucking help it. Surely your sister would understand if she ever caught you checking him out, right?
“Then just stir it.” He adds now, turning to face you and dipping two fingers deep into the liquid of your cup, swirling them, then handing you the drink.
He sucks the remaining mixture off of his fingers in a blatant show of his interest that you’re still far too aloof to pick up, watching you pretend he didn’t catch you staring. And with his fingers still in his mouth, he smirks around them, giving you a pleased expression when you take a sip from the cup.
You glance up just for a second when you taste the same exact drink he’s been making you for the past forty five minutes and nod, trying not to focus on the way his tongue darts between his fingers twice before he pulls them out of his mouth.
“Good?” He asks for confirmation, and when you smile and nod again, his eyes stare harder.
Surely it’s just because you’re drunk, but you swear he’s giving you bedroom eyes, and paired with what he just did with his tongue….well. He looks at you similar to how he did this morning. And when you moved in. And back during that one Holiday party he attended at your childhood home.
Definitely the alcohol. Like, he’s dating your sister. She’s the prettier one, the more successful one, the one with more personality. You’re just you. No way in hell is he really looking at you the same way he looks at her. It’s just your boosted confidence of finally being able to wear such a skimpy outfit. It’s just the liquid courage, that’s all.
“You know–” He starts this time, leaning against the counter like he did this morning while helping your sister cook, trying to appear casual, cool, and perhaps attractive in this stance. “When I was beating Jay’s ass on smash bros earlier, he mentioned you.”
You continue to sip your drink, feeling a buzzing in your chest and ears as you listen to him. Far more able now to have any conversation he could throw at you compared to any other day. Even with the thought in your head that he might be checking you out.
“Oh? Which one is Jay again?” You ask, leaning slightly to peek around the wall at the crowd of bodies just a room over. Interest peaking solely because the majority of people in this house right now are like, next level attractive. Maybe this Jay guy can take your thoughts off of your sister’s fucking boyfriend.
“The one with the sunglasses on his head, wearing all black.” He starts, leaning close next to you and pointing just in front of your line of sight. “He’s a fucking loser, though.”
You look at the guy, trying to remember the short greeting he gave to you. A nod of his head when he pushed those same sunglasses up and into his hair. He threw a very quick glance at you, to your face, chest, legs, then back to your face where he nodded again before making his way into the kitchen to make himself a drink. You think, maybe, that Jay guy judged you positively upon meeting you.
“He didn’t even tell me his name, no wonder I didn’t know which one he was.” You lend a drunken laugh as you check him out, sipping your drink again while listening to Heeseung laugh next to you.
His laugh sounds closer, which makes sense considering he’s now leaning his weight on you with his elbow on your shoulder, resting his head there.
“I thought he was that one–” You say, now pointing your own finger to the other guy you met briefly, the one with the longer hair, dyed blonde with hella untouched roots..
He had a nice smile when he greeted you, leaning in for a warm hug with a small “great to finally meet you.” His clothes drastically differed from Jay’s though. Far more casual and normal, loose jeans and a large hoodie just like what Heeseung seems to wear so often, except the colors were a bit brighter.
“Nah, that’s Jake.” Heeseung snorts, breathing in your scent as he leans into you as closely as he can, letting the stands of his hair poking out from his beanie tickle your neck. “Careful with that one, he’s a pervert.”
You’re quick to admit interest in this one too, swatting Heeseung’s hair from your neck without thinking much about it. Which, arguably, doesn’t quite sit well with him.
Not only are you almost entirely ignoring him now, but it’s his fault for pointing out his friends to you again despite his attempts at making them appear unappealing to you. It seems that his girlfriend’s little sister is a bit too eager to look at guys, yet not eager enough to look at him.
“Oh yeah?” You look for a little too long at Jake, in Heeseung’s opinion, as he draws his finger over to the very sober Sunghoon.
“You remember meeting him though, he made sure of it.” Heeseung rolls his eyes from beside you, leaning hard. “Also a pervert, just a little less obvious. I’d steer clear.”
“Is Jay the only one that isn’t a pervert?” You ask off handedly in a shy chuckle, bobbing your head now to the music bumping against the walls.
“God, did I not just tell you he mentioned you?” Heeseung shifts his weight to his other leg, skewing his head and looking straight down your shirt. “He asked if you were like your sister, the freak.”
He leans away from you at that point, noting that your drink is already near empty again and needing to refill it so that way he can push his own opinions into that empty little brain of yours.
“What do you mean, like my sister?” You ask, watching him take the cup from you and place it right there in front of the same ingredients he just used to make the drink before.
“Well,” He tilts his head back slightly when he turns to prepare the drink, eyes looking at you in a dark and somewhat scary way, still with a charming smile though. “Your big sis kind of got a little dirty on our first date. Guess Jay hopes you’re the same.”
Heeseung hopes you are too, but not for them.
And, for you? It’s not like you’ve ever been given a chance to do such a thing. However, upon meeting and then re-meeting his friends from afar, all of them really are quite attractive. Maybe you could follow in your sister’s footsteps just to say that yes, you fuck on the first date too.
“I guess I am a bit like her.” You say offhandedly, looking away from Heeseung and tipping your head back around the corner to check the three men out again.
And when Heeseung turns to give you another full drink, he snaps his fingers.
“Get back in here.” He says, and when you turn to face him again, his eyes land right back on your chest.
“I’d advise against it.” He slurs at seeing your curious gaze land on one specific friend, stirring your drink with his fingers much like he did before. “Jay is a slut.”
“All of them are, actually.”
Unfortunately, Heeseung’s warnings go through one ear and out the other. He can see it, especially with the way you place that drink up to your lips and make your way into the living room, leaving him behind without so much as a “thank you”.
And when you sit, directly between Jay and Jake, both of them turn their heads from the large TV screen, which allows Sunghoon to land some pretty major blows on them until he, himself, turns his head to witness two drunk idiots and a pretty girl between them.
“Heeseung said you asked about me.” You state boldly, leaning into the wrong person to say it.
“Well, he’s a liar.” Jake bellows out, studying how drunk you are and glancing up at Jay with a snide grin. Raising his brows and gripping his controller.
“That would be me who asked.” Jay pipes in, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice directly address you, but man, alcohol is fun. It makes you feel even more bold when you turn to look at him with a face that you assume shows interest.
“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” You ask, ignoring that you fumbled the greeting.
“You weren’t drunk enough,” Jay laughs, ignoring the screen as it gives Sunghoon his win. “I see now though,” He looks you up and down, slouching back against the couch and stretching his arm wide around the back of it, and you.” You’re definitely drunk.”
You nod happily, eyes turning to Jake, who is still just checking you out.
“Sure am.” You laugh, hopping up in one motion and turning to face them. “Heeseung also told me that you’re all fucking perverts, so.”
Jay and Jake both lend a “what the fuck, bro?” face at Heeseung, who was slouched against the wall, yet again, watching how you interact with his friends. He simply shrugs at them with a malicious smile into his drink. After all, he’s the one on top of the world right now. Not only does he have a hot as fuck girlfriend who lets him live and do as he pleases, but now he’s got a younger version of her running around, acting like she knows how to whore herself out.
He can tell you’re just like her in that regard. Ready, willing, wanting to experience everything all at once if the world throws it at you. From the way you sat between his friends to the way you snitched on him with a pretty smile on your face. Oh man, the guys probably love you already.
“So, what?” Jay rolls his eyes as Jake watches you stand on wobbling legs. “You don’t like to get laid?”
You bellow out a laugh that nearly throws you off balance, but Jake is very quick to lunge forward and grab your arm to steady you, forcing you to spill your drink all over yourself and him.
“Sure I do,” You ignore the blatant show of your mindstate and instead, remember how you’ve actually had plenty of sex during whatever time you could fit, in whatever place was hidden enough that didn’t involve your own home. “Why, you trying to get some?”
Jay smirks at you as Jake holds your half-spilled drink, listening to you flirt and smiling much the same way.
“Maybe.” Jay shrugs, side eyeing both of his friends. “You gonna give it up?” He adds, now blatantly checking you out from head to toe, liking very much what he’s seeing.
“Nope.” Heeseung suddenly cuts in, staring his three friends in the face as he grabs your drink from Jake and hands it back to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pretending to be the knight in shining armor your sister wants him to be.
You look back at the three men as Heeseung leads you away, then you note that Sunghoon shrugs at you.
“What the hell?” You ask, slightly annoyed with Heeseung and the lights of the kitchen blinding you once again. “I was busy.”
“Busy doing what? Teasing my friends?” Heeseung shakes his head as he turns away from you, placing your cup down and opening the bottles back up. “You’re playing a dangerous game, babe, I’d stop if I were you.”
“And? Maybe I like it.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how the alcohol radiates behind your eyes and lends two Heeseungs to pretend you’re not attracted to. At least with his friends, you can be more open about it.
Heeseung stops making your drink and turns to look at you and the way your eyes struggle to adjust. He’s entirely floored by that statement. The fact that you’ve kept to yourself for the most part since you’ve moved in, and now you’re all cute and drunk in front of him revealing just how much of a whore you might be if you were given the chance? Damn.
“Your sister would kill you.” He says, turning back to your drink and knowing that your sister probably wouldn’t actually give a shit if you fuck his friends. He does though.
“I mean, I guess I won’t stop you.” He lies, now turning back to make your drink the exact same way and giving it to you despite knowing he shouldn’t be giving you more.
“Can honestly say you’re a bit too pretty for them, though.” He adds in a snide compliment, wanting so badly to flirt but doing his best to appear like it’s totally normal for him to say these things.
And as he notes your stare at him, processing the words, he takes this moment to grab a towel from the sink to dab away at the drink that you previously spilled all over yourself.
You look at him, watching him dab the towel against your arm. He seems focused on doing it, pretty face and clear skin shining in these morgue lights in the kitchen compared to everywhere else in the house. And then, you note how when he looks up, his eyes stop momentarily at the amount of cleavage you’re revealing for this occasion. Hah, he probably thinks his messy strands of hair hid his eyes from you, but you saw it.
“Oh, I get it.” You take in a deep inhale, reaching to pull his beanie over his eyes and letting out a bold laugh because really, you’re pretty drunk by this point. “You’re a pervert too.”
Heeseung shrugs, lifting the beanie back up and standing much taller in front of you. He skews his head down, looking right past your face and down your shirt this time. Proud of seeing the curve of them and the space between that could probably stimulate any cock you squeeze there.
“Maybe, yeah.” He smirks, taking a slight step closer and letting both arms trap you against the counter, hovering above you with an intimidating stance. “Maybe even more than they are.” He adds, already preparing himself to press his hips up and against you, uncaring of how it would look if he were to be found like this with you.
Unfortunately, he’s forced to care because there’s a happy pair of footsteps making their way to the kitchen, and he really should not have been about to do that in the first place. He stumbles back at the sound, smiling at you with a quick, tipsy wink.
It leaves you a little dizzy as you stare at him with a weird kind of aroused feeling in your gut. Surely that’s the alcohol too, it has to be. You’re very quick to shrug off the small intimate moment as you hear your sister’s loud and booming voice calling out his name.
You watch as she envelopes him in a fraction of a second, lifting on her unbalanced feet to immediately start making out with him.
You’re not sure why you stand there and watch for a second, a little zoned out before Heeseung opens his eyes briefly and looks at you throughout the bruising kiss he’s currently an active participant of.
There’s that same look again, only this time he’s doing it while licking into your sister’s mouth. You’re so fucking confused right now. All the signals have to be your imagination, right?
You snap out of the daze then, whispering a small “ill just go somewhere else.” before leaving the kitchen and finding yourself at the table just outside of it.
You try to keep your eyes to yourself at this point regarding Heeseung, feeling all of the buzz and heat in your gut at the idea of being allowed to be openly sexually attracted to just about any man you lay eyes on. He’s nothing special, just a handsome guy. His friends are just as attractive, right?
And as you trail your eyes around the room trying to find someone to go mingle with, you are instead surrounded by your sister’s friends. Still, when you glance to the living room, every single time, either Jake, Jay, or that other guy is watching you with eyes that you’ve read before from other men.
Arguably, the same eyes Heeseung gave you just a few minutes before. At least with them, you know you’re not reading those bedroom eyes wrong.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Give me a week.” Jake says, elbowing Jay in the side and taking a hefty sip of his terribly mixed drink as his eyes drift to the new girl surrounded by other hot girls. “I'll be in her bed before the week is up..”
Jay rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching out his own tipsy limbs as he walks to Sunghoon and sits on that couch instead.
“Three days for me then.” He says, giving Jake a too-confident face. “I could go over there right the fuck now and have her on her knees, probably.” He says as he looks at you, fitting in so well with the group of girls. Possibly being the hottest one too. “Maybe.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at his slurring best friends, clearly drunker than they realize.
“You both take the wrong approach.” He says, stiffening his shoulders before slouching entirely against the couch, considering ditching the baby-sitting job and having a drink as well. “You think they’d just let you fuck her? I’ll get her to go on a date with me first. Get her legs open in my car after.”
“Quite frankly, Sunghoon, I don’t really give a shit if they’d let me. I’m going to get some of that.” Jay responds.
All three of them are staring at you, thankfully, you don’t seem to notice as you fall into a conversation with that same group of girls, plus your sister now. And just as Jake was about to add more to the conversation, Heeseung makes his way in.
“Don’t–” Heeseung slurs as he flops beside Jake, letting his heavy limbs hurt his friend. “–even think about it, Jakey boy.” He says, knowing for a fact what all three of his whore friends are thinking. They’ve been staring and glancing at you all night.
Jake avoids eye contact, because he’s definitely thinking about it.
“No worries.” Jay shrugs. “We’re just looking, that’s all.”
Somehow, someway, all three of Heeseung’s friends pick up on what Jay is putting down. Ah, a deal of leaving him out, they suppose.
After all, Heeseung already managed to bag your sister. They know he’d keep her little sister off limits to them too. Out of respect or some shit, probably. Bro code, all of that.
“Keep it that way.” He hums, shoving Jake and laughing. “She’s too hot for you guys anyway, just like her sister.”
There’s a shared look between the three as Sunghoon lunges for Jay’s drink and takes a sip of it.
“Heeseung, we’re crashing here tonight.” He bellows out through tangy lips.
And, well, Heeseung didn’t argue because he knows he’s not in a state to really give a shit at this point. The only thing he needs to be focused on right now is willing his cock to soften up a bit before he does something drastic about it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung thinks hard as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s seeing two of himself which is kind of funny in one aspect, but also terrifying because he didn’t intend to drink this much.
Why is he so upset to see his friends go for you? You’ve been here a week and he’s already feeling so jealous? Really? Then again, he knew from the moment your sister told him you were moving you that it was going to be either very interesting or incredibly difficult.
Mostly because he’s stolen glances at you for years. Wondering when you’d ever come to visit, always looking so pretty and happy during those brief holiday gatherings. Oh yes, he’s had his eye on you for a fucking while. And now? You’re living here? And coming onto his friends right after he warned you not to?
For the past hour as he sipped and watched you roam the house, back and forth between the girls, your sister, and his boys, he couldn’t help but scoff at you for it. You haven’t spoken to him since the kitchen incident. A little bit of a blatant moment on his part, he admits, he even surprised himself with that.
Still, this protective feeling doesn’t come from being your future brother in law. Absolutely not. It stems entirely from the twitch in his pants he’s gotten nearly every single moment he’s gotten to take a long look at you.
It was manageable before, where he’d see you maybe once or twice a year. But now? It’s every single day, and it pisses him off that you’re not mingling with him during this party.
He stares at himself, bobbing his head to the music in the mirror before leaning forward against the counter and inching closer and closer to his own face.Finally, he can focus in and see only one of himself looking back in the mirror.
All he sees is a man who has managed to bag himself the perfect woman. One willing to coddle him and take care of him like a mother would, one willing to let him float through life unemployed for the time being, one that doesn’t entirely let him fuck the way he wants to solely because she’s far too confident in herself to let him pull such a thing with her.
Heeseung tilts his head at himself as he examines his face in the mirror, knocking his beanie off and running his fingers through his hair. Leaning back and once again to relish in his own doubled vision.
What he really sees looking back at him in that mirror is a man who bagged himself an almost perfect woman who appears to have a truly perfect sister. It’s the fact that suddenly, he can admit that he is bored in the bedroom, and a man who is far too eager to ignore that if he got the chance, he would be just like his friends regarding you.
He would be getting your number and asking to see what those tits look like under that skimpy shirt you’re wearing tonight. You’d probably show them too, considering the fact that you lived your entire life up until this point barred by church sermons and non-existent doors that offer no privacy to so much as finger yourself. You’re probably dying to experience all of the things you were already supposed to be well acquainted with at your age.
And as he thinks about it, head spinning in thoughts of what he’s already done just moments after you officially moved in, he slips his hand down. Groping himself through his jeans and staring down at the bulge that sits just above the counter.
He hangs his head, smirking and shivering at the small touch he lends to his own length. It’s the fact that he just got hard over the confirmation of being sexually unsatisfied in his own bedroom. The shamed truth that he stood here thinking a little too hard about what kind of nudes you’d send if he ever chose to ask for them, it’s not something he’s ashamed of either.
In fact, the thought of sneaking out of the bed while your sister sleeps just to slip into your room and cover your pretty little mouth in his cum? That’s more arousing than knowing he could just leave the bathroom right now and fuck your sister.
And he stands there for a few minutes testing that theory, running his fingers along the swollen inseam of his pants in a careful way, like his girlfriend does. He twitches once at the feeling, glancing up at himself in the mirror again, trying hard to imagine her in this bathroom with him.
Another twitch, weaker this time. He laughs at himself quietly in defeat before breathing in a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the muffled music just outside of the door to fade off through his hot ears and aroused mind.
He closes his eyes briefly when he grabs himself now. Rougher, harsher, messier. Trying to mimic the hand of a woman who probably hasn’t done this too much, trying to mimic what he thinks you’d do. His hips shift forward almost immediately and without intention, chasing the feeling of inexperience. Chasing the thought of someone that isn’t his girlfriend. He chuckles more now, confirming his theory.
Chasing it with his eyes closed up until he does open his eyes and sees himself looking so out of it for you. Knowing that you’re just ten feet away if he were to walk out of this bathroom right now, so drunk and cute, you probably wouldn’t think twice about giving it to him. Knowing that if he really wanted to, he could take you the way he’s always wanted your sister and you'd probably love every second of it.
He’d fuck you better. You’d be tighter, wetter, and louder for him than she ever has been.
And just as he goes to slide his hand down the front of his pants, intending to fuck his own fist to the thought of you tonight rather than turning that lock behind his own door to get between your sister’s legs, there’s a loud knock on the door. He jumps at the sound, adjusting his pants right back to where they belong before whipping around a bit too quickly and sending a bottle of perfume clattering to the floor in a loud POP sound.
“Shit-” He groans, smelling the intense aroma of what your sister wears, forcing his mind back to the reality of not being allowed to fuck you.
He tiptoes around the broken glass, nostrils burning at the strong scent before swinging the door open with an annoyed roll of his eyes.
“Heeeeeeeeseungie!” Your sister sings, fumbling over and leaning on him instantly with her arms circling his shoulders. She’s so gone that she doesn’t even notice the scent of her favorite perfume that just got destroyed.
“Hey honey,” Heeseung says calmly, appearing far more sober despite being a bit buckled at the knees. “Need help?”
She nods against his chest, unaware of his softening cock that wasn’t at all raging for her just moments before.
“There’s glass all over the floor right now, let’s go use your sister’s bathroom.”
The length in his pants shrank nearly instantly upon feeling her cling to him like this, with that cute, high pitched, voice she tends to use when she’s needy. He tries not to think about that though. Coming to terms with the fact that what used to get him off is currently turning him off? That’s too much of a dangerous thought right now.
“Mhm,” Your sister hums as he guides her to your closed bedroom door. “Wait!” Your sister panics, coming to her drunk senses for just long enough to blurt “She came in here with Sunghoon earlier, we should knock.”
Heeseung stiffens for a moment, pausing his step just outside your bedroom door. The weight of his own girlfriend against him should be something he loves right now, but he just finds himself wishing she’d get the fuck off of him.
The fact he’s somehow more pissed about you behind this door, probably giving it to Sunghoon, than he is in love with his girlfriend right now? Telling. He knocks once before immediately turning your door knob. Locked.
“Hey, your sister needs to use the bathroom.” Heeseung shouts right up against the crack of the door, wiggling the knob. “Open up!”
“Use the other bathroom!” You shout back in a muffled and far away sounding voice.
Heeseung stands there, pretending he doesn’t notice the sound of shuffling on the other side when the song booming through the speakers changes for a split second.
“Can’t use the other bathroom! There’s glass on the floor!”
Silence from the other side of the door for a brief moment then, click! You crack it open, cheeks flushed and eyes struggling to focus on him. Heeseung immediately pushes the door open to reveal not only Sunghoon, but Jake and Jay all three lounging around your room.
Still fully clothed, at least, but he can tell at least one of them appears to be struggling to hide his hard on. (Jake.)
Heeseung narrows his eyes at all three of the men. Jake sitting stiffly on the floor at the end of your bed, hands over his lap. Jay, lounging on your bed, as if he’s been on it a thousand times with a half-boner on full display. And then Sunghoon, clearly feeling some type of buzz as he’s the only one still drinking, leaning right up against the dresser that Heeseung built himself.
“Ooh,” Your sister hums, wiggling her finger at you.”Scandalous.”
You lend her a shy smile as you take a step back, willing them sooner rather than later to leave solely because you were busy in here.
Not like, fucking or anything. Just having a nice, innocent, conversation with three hot guys. That’s all. Plus, you’d never have been able to handle sitting alone in a room with these three if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system anyway. Especially with the way you initially only invited Sunghoon into your room to show him how you had the same style of socks he was wearing. Jake immediately followed both of you, followed by Jay, who was the one who closed the door and locked it.
And you pay no mind to Heeseung and your sister walking to your bathroom on unbalanced steps, you find yourself flopping back on the bed right beside Jay instead.
None of them have done anything at all to make you feel awkward or like this situation is dangerous either. In fact, the only thing you guys have talked about are the mutual interests that you share.
Poor you, so aloof when drunk. Unable to comprehend the fact that every single one of the guys in your room right now have made attempts to steer the conversation in their own way to things not so innocent.
You do try to ignore what happened in the kitchen with Heeseung though, avoiding eye contact with him as he makes his way back out of your room after helping with your sister. You think he’s glaring, maybe, but oh well.
“Anyway, back at home my dad would have never let me wear band shirts.”
“That’s tough.” Jay comments, side eyeing your chest in that top and low-key wondering how nice your tits would look braless, under one of his band shirts. “Bet he didn’t know he raised not one, but two sneaky daughters.”
You smile triumphantly, ignoring the shadow of your sister that they force you into.
“They made it really hard to break rules. Now though? I get to wear stuff like this and hang out with guys like you.”
“Yeah,” Jake trails off, turning his body to peek at you from the end of the bed. “Probably not the smartest move on your part.”
You bring your attention to him, seeing a blur of charming eyes and messy hair.
“What do you mean?”
“What he means is that, it’s probably not ideal to get shit faced then lock yourself in a room with three horny guys.” Sunghoon asserts, pushing off of the dresser and now setting himself on the foot of your bed. “You can’t tell?”
You, for some reason, are astonished at his words. Sunghoon, compared to the other two, seemed more quiet and reserved if you’re being honest. Then again, you’ve only known these guys for a few hours by this point. What you do know about Sunghoon, is that he’s horrifyingly attractive in the way he carries himself, which you can’t really say the same for Jake or Jay.
With his perfected dark hair and tall stance. he looms around with each expression on his face leaving little to the imagination in the way his eyebrows accentuate whatever thought flows behind his eyes. Somehow, he’s still the hardest to read, as you watch him assert his own form of dominance on your bed.
You’re blissfully unaware of how tame Sunghoon was actually being at this moment though. All three of them, they’re competing to see who fucks you first, and whoever wins? Ah, not only do they get a paid night at the bar out of it, but both losers have to fork over another sum of money equal to that of two seasons worth of battle passes to whatever game the winner may choose to play.
“I think this is a good time to hand you my phone, give me your number.” Jay cuts in quite quickly, ignoring the way Sunghoon invites himself into the space he created with you.
Jay doesn’t even let you process his words as he tosses his phone to the side and at you, watching it land on your stomach before sliding off to the other side of you.
“Ah, you’re cute.” He chuckles upon noting your terrible coordination skills of grabbing said phone.
“Well, I’m drunk, so.” You dead-pan, freezing when you feel him lean over you to grab the phone himself, staying there and hovering over you with it in his hand.
You let out a small gasp when you meet his eyes, staring straight through you.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jay’s blatant show of interest, and Jake simply watches. Studies how you react to the forwardness.
“Go on.” Jay encourages you, holding the phone directly in front of you, where your eyes are still glued to his confident face, as if he’s not practically caging you in on your own bed like this. “Type it in.”
You do. Somehow managing to type your number perfectly on the screen placed in front of you, and he’s quick to turn the phone to himself, flicking his eyes back and forth between you and the screen as he presses the call button.
Your phone vibrates from the dresser and Jay gives a victorious and somewhat dark smile.
“One for me, zero for the idiots.” He laughs, lending you one more glance, a squeeze of his palm against your waist, and then he’s moving off of you and your bed as a whole. “Call me when you kick them out, I’ll sleep in here tonight.” He adds, leaving no room for argument before leaving the room entirely.
That leaves Sunghoon and Jake, sitting there trying to pretend it wasn’t expected of Jay to at least get your number first. He always starts strong, then again, he also always fumbles hard when things get gritty. In game and out of game.
“What a prick.” Sunghoon sighs, flopping back on the end of your bed and forcing you to shift your legs up and press them together to make room for his broad body.
He turns his face to look at you from down here, watching you spread your legs to look back at him. The motion is innocent at best, because you seem to trust that he’s not trying to be a pervert right now. Oh, but he is.
He looks at you from this angle hard, realizing how easy it could be to shift just a foot in the right direction to have his face right where you’d probably like it.
And you note the way he’s looking at you.
“Do you guys like…” You glance away from him, over to Jake who is now making his own way onto the bed where Jay was lying before. You shift for a moment, feeling like prey. “Do you guys always share a girlfriend?”
Jake snorts.
“Share?!” He laughs at your question more before settling back against your pillows and landing his hand on your thigh. Easy, simple, and obvious. “We don’t share anything.” He explains now, feeling the fabric of your bottoms and pushing your legs closed so that Sunghoon can’t lay down there and think up all sorts of fantasies.
“You’re gonna have to pick.” Sunghoon says in an annoyed tone, glaring at Jake for closing your legs.
He lifts up on his arms now, raising a brow.
“I’ll give you some advice though.” He says, noting how you listen to him more than you do Jake. “Jay has the stamina of a dead horse.”
Snorting only for a moment, you think hard about Jay. Noting his cool and collected demeanor. Uncaring, somewhat cold, but his face seemed warm and endearing when he looked at you from time to time. You could sense the confidence in him from the moment he looked at you when he walked into this house. Instant attraction, without even knowing his name, is what you felt. With that sleek hair style and pretty hands gripping a full bottle of tequila. He probably has more stamina than Sunghoon gives him credit for.
“And Jake.” Sunghoon laughs this time, pointing directly at the guy lying next to you. “Two strokes and he’s out of the game.”
You laugh again looking over to Jake, who stares at Sunghoon with a dark glare.
“What the fuck dude? That was one time!” He defends himself, babbling about how it was the first time he ever had sex, and how he can go way longer now.
“Me, on the other hand.” Sunghoon perks up as he runs his hands through his hair before smiling at you. “I just want to take you on a date.”
Ding ding ding! We have a winner.
“Really?” You ask, floored over possibly landing your first date in years that your parents wouldn’t be attending.
“Of course.” He nods politely, ignoring that Jake is even in the room now. “I’m not the kind of guy who is just trying to get between your legs.” He lies easily, glaring at Jake again for closing your legs earlier.
“So, what do you say?” Sunghoon encourages you to pick him at this moment, and the nod you give has him pulling his own phone out, asking you to tell him your number rather than forcing you to type it into his phone.
You smile as you give him the numbers, not at all seeing Jake try to sneakily type it into his phone as well.
“Good.” Sunghoon says, flopping back on your bed and now using his own hand to part your legs again. You look at him from above and feel elated by how petty and clean cut he is. “Don’t call Jay when I leave, then.”
You hum a confirmation, stretching out your arms and feeling confident as all hell at the way tonight has gone. Up until, well, Sunghoon makes his way out of the room and tries to drag Jake with him. Only because he knows Jake is awful at talking to girls but man, do they swoon if they’re into desperate guys. You seem to be into just about anyone, if Sunghoon is honest with himself.
“Come on, dickhead.” Sunghoon gripes at Jake, grabbing his hoodie and physically trying to drag him out of the room.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Jake says, pressing all of his body weight against your mattress and kicking Sunghoon away from him. “Play fair or I’ll tell her about last weekend.”
Sunghoon instantly avoids eye contact with him, knowing that if Jake were to spill the beans on how he forgot to leave the server during his uh…session, a date would be out of the question not only for now, but for good.
“You’re the fucking worst.” He grimaces before releasing Jake’s hoodie and stepping out of the room, only half wondering if he should truly let Jake shoot his shot as well.
Ultimately, Sunghoon finds himself stepping out of the door and directly into Jay.
“Well played.” Jay comments. “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that you’re full of shit, won’t I?”
Sunghoon smiles a wicked grin, eyes narrowing at Jay.
“You won’t even get the chance.” He says, looking past Jay and down the hallway at Heeseung, who is shooting a death-glare at them. “Oh, check it.” He changes the subject by shoving Jay in the side to look at their friend. “He’s mad.”
Jay turns to look at whatever it is Sunghoon is talking about and simply laughs.
“He can tell something is up. Maybe we should tell him?” Jay asks, crossing his arms in interest.
“Eventually.” Sunghoon laughs as he pushes past Jay and makes his way to the kitchen for another drink.
Jake, on the other hand, is fucking vibrating as he sits alone in this room with you, dodging the questions about what Sunghoon did last weekend to cause such a reaction with an entirely made up sob story.
“Oh my god?” You coo out, turning to face him entirely. “That’s so sad!”
Jake mumbles, nodding his head as if he pities himself with a pout on his face.
“Yeah, I guess that’s just how things go for me though.” He shrugs, blinking at you with the biggest and softest eyes he can manage.
“I can’t believe she did that!” You bellow out now, entirely invested in the backstory of the love life he lost just a few months prior. “With her own cousin, too?!”
Jake nods again with that same pout, looking as defeated as he can, trying to be as charming as he possibly can.
You lean forward to give him a some form of hug at this moment, drunken emotion overtaking you as you sit and watch this poor guy pour his little broken heart out.
“If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because my dad threatened him.”
“No, that’s awful.” He chuckles sadly, shaking his head at you. “We’re both just unlucky, huh?”
He nods his head, seemingly to get you to shadow his actions, and as expected, you do. You nod to confirm his words, still invested in the fact that such a nice looking guy got fucked over like that, only to be made fun of by his friends for it.
So invested that you don’t note the way he keeps his hand on your leg or moves it upwards inch by inch.
“Can we change the subject?” Jake pouts harder, looking at you with sparkling eyes..
“Yeah, of course–”
“You’re really, really, pretty.” He suddenly blurts, looking you in the eye and using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You totally believed his entire story, if the saddened look in your eye is anything to go by. “I think you should go on a date with me instead.”
You break eye contact, looking down again and only just now noticing his hand on your leg. Only just now noticing that hard-on he’s sporting in his pants.
“Jake.” You say, lifting your eyes back to him. “Are you–hard?” You lift your brows in pity again with the subject change, drunken brain telling you that he’s probably crawling in his skin over how hard he is, and how sad everything is for him.
“Oh, over this?” He asks, dropping his hand and blatantly groping himself. “A little. It always happens when someone as good looking as you gives me the time of day.”
Oh, how sweet. How cute. The fact that Jake gets hard simply over someone being nice to him?
“Well, don’t worry!” You try to perk him up, not at all realizing that he’s full of shit. “I know it’s not because you’re trying to get into my pants or anything. I won’t tell anyone.” You nod to him with a smile before– Uh oh.
“Well, actually–” Jake tries to start, already about to make his move when he notices the color on your face change and you’re fumbling to the bathroom.
And just like that, Jake has failed, as he stumbles out of your bed and to your locked bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” He asks with a sweet and caring voice.
Silence from the other end save for the sound of your sink running full blast probably to mask the sounds of your stomach trying to evacuate the copious amounts of alcohol that’s been fed to you.
So much for the pancakes being a fix-all solution. And with that, Jake leaves the room while pulling out his phone, texting the number he stole when you gave it to Sunghoon.
Jake: hey, don’t be embarrassed about getting sick. I’m gonna crash on the couch so if you need me i’ll be there.
After that, the party is pretty much over. Everyone save for the three perverts, Heeseung, and your sister remain.
This leaves your sister already passed out and tucked into her bed by none other than Heeseung himself, Jay already asleep on the couch, Sunghoon piled up on the floor between the dining room and the living room. Probably to create a barrier that would wake him if Jay really tried to get into your room.
And poor fucking Jake, forced to actually pity himself as he curls his body up on the love seat in the living room, pretending that it’s totally big enough for him to be comfortable here.
Heeseung looms around the house once everything goes silent, checking to be sure no one has passed out or died in a corner before coming back to the living room and staring at all three of his bitch-ass friends.
On one hand, he’s glad they’re in the living room and not in your room. On the other hand, he wants to smother all three of them. One by one.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is in his head for a solid three days after the party. So much that his focus is more on you than his games. Which is super fucked up when he thinks about it. That’s why, when your sister heads off to work, he’s plotting in his head every time. He needs you to like him somehow.
The thoughts loop in his mind. From images of him pinning you up and against that kitchen counter again, to the fantasy image of you dropping to your knees in front of him. If anything, it’s not that he needs to fuck you, he just needs you to want him to.
And this is why he finds himself orbiting you. Finding reasons to come into your room, or reasons to get you out of it.
“I’m gonna do some laundry, do you have anything I need to wash?” When you didn’t have anything more than what was already in your basket, he still washed your clothes. He also folded one of his own shirts into your pile just to see if you’d wear it.
“I made some lunch, come eat with me.” You already ate while he was in the office playing his games, which he should have guessed.
“Hey, can you help me wash the dishes?” You had nodded, but never left your room and he ultimately ended up washing and drying them all himself. Waiting, waiting, and fucking waiting.
All three times he tried today, you brushed him off with your eyes glued to your phone.
Something has got to give because it’s starting to get embarrassing how much he thinks about you. With the way he avoided sex last night with his own, very beautiful girlfriend, just to hide in the bathroom at four in the morning getting off with something he absolutely should not have in his possession.
He doesn’t know how fucking long it’s gonna take to get you to break for him but it’s going to happen one way or the other. You don’t have a choice in the matter at this point .
It looks like you won’t even consider him in that pretty little head of yours simply because he’s considered off limits. He’s gonna have to prove you wrong.
Still, he remembers the way you looked at him during your welcome party. So cute and sweet when you’re drunk, so willing to hang out with him. The interest was there. He knows it was.
And now, as he ticks away at the WASD keys on his keyboard, running his little pixel version of himself back and forth between headshots that he misses every time, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jay shouts through the headset. “He was right there!”
Heeseung knows his friends have every reason to rag on him right now. It’s the fifth lost ranked game of the day and he’s rotting inside at the thought of dropping back down to gold.
“Platinum my ass.” Sunghoon pipes in, slamming his mouse on his desk out of sheer annoyance at what happened during the last game. “You didn’t down a single person in the past three games.”
Heeseung sighs, ripping his headset off and closing out the game. He can feel it in his body. The frustration bubbling up to the point that he really only thinks about you and this shit needs to stop now before his precious rank drops so far down that even their bronze boy Jake could boast above him.
He ignores the annoyed shouts from his friends as he disconnects from discord, stands up, and practically storms out of the room and up to your door.
“I’m coming in!” Heeseung gripes.
This is your first time witnessing him in a bad mood, as he does exactly as he says and swings your door open for the fourth time today.
“You and me.” He says, pointing a finger at you “Right now.”
“Right now, what?” You ask in a nonchalant tone.
Which only pisses him off more because, fuck if he knows.
“Get off your phone. We’re hanging out.”
You furrow your brow at him, pointer finger locking the screen of your phone and hiding the string of texts you’d been sharing with one of his very own best friends. Your eyes scan him only for a moment, noting how rushed he appears to be while barging into your room like this.
Large hoodie covering the majority of his body, sweat on his brow probably from all of that screaming you heard in the office earlier, and that same very embarrassing dent on the top of his head from his headset.
As you look at him in all of his gamer boy glory you nod, only because out of all of his friends, you think you’d rather hang out with him because at least he’s not in your texts trying to land a date, or a hookup, or dropping dick pics by “accident”.
He’s just Heeseung, your sister’s loving and very hard to read boyfriend. Who you don’t happen to fully remember is capable of pinning you against the kitchen counter while trying to show you how much worse he is compared to his friends.
“Okay, what do you wanna do?”
He pauses, standing in your room and looking at you lounging on your bed. If he really told you what he’d like to do, it would probably scare you. He needs to think fast, not desperate.
“Uh,” He hums, glancing away from you and lifting his hand up to finally ruffle that embarrassing dent in his hair away. “Have you ever played video games?”
“Yeah. Not the ones you play though.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at sudden small talk.
God, he shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t think you could make yourself any more alluring to him after saying that. While his girlfriend has never once even considered picking up a controller, you have? Oh, shit. Man, that’s so hot.
“Oh yeah?” He perks up in genuine interest, taking a step forward and landing himself on your bed without invitation. “Like what?”
“Party games mostly, I guess. Mario Party, Super Smash Bros, Wii sports, Among us.”
He nods as you list the most mundane games in the industry.
“Did you pick up pretty quickly? Like, did you ever win?” He asks, unaware that this conversation feels like literal foreplay to him, pleased by the fact that there’s suddenly more to like about you than just those tits and face….and personality….and intense need to break rules…and–
“Yeah, I can be kind of competitive.”
“Mm.” Heeseung nods in approval, turned on by the very image of you staring into a screen with dead eyes, fingers smashing on buttons and intensely focused.
“Do you wanna watch me play something?”
“How is that hanging out?” You ask, scoffing at the idea. “Why would I want to watch you have fun?”
Heeseung looks at you. Yeah, that’s fair. He would probably end up ignoring you the whole time anyway, but still. Is it so bad that he asked simply to fulfill the fantasy of having a girl fawn over him and his successes?
“Okay, then what would you want to do?” He shoots back, knowing it’s fair but hating it nonetheless. Wondering if there’s a chance that someday you’ll pile up on his lap and watch him carry the whole team to victory. Boasting for him more than he does for himself.
“Horror movie. I’m sure she’s told you but our parents were very strict about what media we consumed. I have a whole list of horror movies I’m trying to work through, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to watch by myself.”
Fuck yeah. Maybe it’ll end in that cringe and cliche scenario he’s used time and time again when flirting with girls. Images of you jumping from a jumpscare and grabbing him on instinct. Fantasies of you cuddling up real close. So close that he can smell how much you want him. He could get hard right now just thinking of doing this very thing with you. Plus, he fucking loves horror movies.
“Get your pretty ass in the living room then. ” He nods, smiling at you in a way that hides every thought behind his empty, horny eyes.
And he just gets up and walks out like calling you pretty just now wasn’t at all out of place, he fucking winks at you. It really does throw you off that he just did that so nonchalantly, like he talks to everyone that way when you know for a fact that outside of this house, your sister has to fight him just to get him to wave hello to someone.
You wonder why it feels like maybe you shouldn’t be spending time alone with him. Arguably, you don’t want to admit that it makes you feel good either. Already with three separate, very attractive people, in your texts insisting that you pick them, that you choose them.
All of it is very desperate. Almost as desperate as you are to give in to every single one of them, but you can’t just let them know how sheltered you were and how free you feel the need to be now.
Of course Heeseung, your sister’s boyfriend, calling you pretty would make you feel confident. Like maybe you could be with someone just as attractive as him, or perhaps no longer live in the shadow of everything you wish you could be.
Her. Everything was always about her.
“Oh, your sister got top of her class! She’s gonna be moving out soon!” She really just left you there to suffer alone.
“Ah! Your sister just bought a house! I heard she and her boyfriend might marry soon!”
You scoffed that day when you entered college, no one congratulated you for the countless free rides or multiple acceptance letters. No, it was all about her despite the fact that she lived an hour and a half away and you were right there.
She was only better than and outshined you because she was older and got there first. It was never competitive with you until everyone in your life expected you to outshine, outdo, and outwit her.
Still, you jumped at the opportunity to live here solely to get away from your parents. Solely to try and live outside of everything you could be, only to become whatever the fuck you want to be. And yeah, you love her immensely because she truly is the only person who never expected you to be her. There’s so much resentment but an equal amount of love within you for your sister.
And while Heeseung has no idea of this resentment you have rotting in your chest, you also have no idea that Heeseung believes the one thing you hold over your sister is the fact that you’re just her, except, well…younger, hotter, wilder, prettier, more inexperienced. Cuter voice. Snarkier attitude. Open, and perhaps, willing.
If you knew that, perhaps Heeseung calling you pretty as if it’s his natural born right would become something different in your head. Perhaps you’d want to live in your sister’s shadow just once more. Why not try and take what your sister has? Wouldn’t that be fun?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
What a fucking bummer, Heeseung thinks, as he sits on one end of the couch with you on the other. He’s watched you more than the movie at this point, but the clock is tick-tick-ticking, and you’re just sitting there pushing through the horrors with a smile. Something's got to give.
Your sister comes home in three hours, leaving space for just one more movie and he is truly determined to score this win if it’s the last thing he does. The worst part? Morals don’t mean shit if you want him to fuck you.
If there’s one thing Heeseung hates more than losing, it’s one-sided attraction. He knows he’s not the problem, you are for not looking at him long enough. You are for not even considering that he could fuck you better than anyone in all of those porn accounts you follow on twitter. Not that he stalked it or anything (he did.)
And that’s why, as his stare becomes darker, he stands up and scratches the back of his head with a sigh.
“I’ll be right back.” He says, watching you wave him off as if you were totally paying attention to him.
That’s going to change right the fuck now.
He heads to his shared room with your sister, stepping into the walk in closet and examining himself in the wall length mirror before sighing.
Goddamn, he really stopped caring about how he looked once he finally got between your sister’s legs and locked her down. It’s no wonder you gave his friends more attention that night than you’ve ever given to him. He inspects his hair, messy and frizzy from his hoodie being pulled over and off of his head throughout the day. The cowlicks in the back leaving nothing to your imagination in regards to when the last time he washed the fucked-up locks was.
He sighs at himself, licking his palm and trying to tame the cowlick. God, a shower right now would seem ridiculous because he’s supposed to be on the couch with you, standing up the gore and death on screen so your hand will accidentally touch his dick or something.
No good. He needs to backpedal a little bit with his confidence, probably. He steps out of his room, taking his hoodie off at the same time. He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt now, wanting to at least reveal his shoulders and arms to you. Wanting to parade himself around the house until you drip for him.
“Hey.” He walks back into the living room, still rolling the last bit of his left sleeve up and over his shoulder. “Can you pause the movie for like ten minutes and throw a pizza in the oven or something?”
You look up at him and the way he seems like he’s thinking about something far off from any situation that’s currently happening.
“Yeah, sure.” You nod, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “We could just keep watching while the pizza cooks though.”
He chuckles, knowing you’d say that and not at all having an excuse.
“I need to take a shower.” He dead-pans, as if it’s not sudden or weird that he’s decided to rudely interrupt the last movie of the night with a shower that could definitely wait.
“Just shower after we finish the movie.” You roll your eyes, still standing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen. “It’s not like your stink will get any worse in the matter of a few hours.”
Oh, so now he smells bad?! Is that why you aren’t into him?
“Or you could stop complaining and make the fucking pizza.” He snaps for the first time with a tone that indicates you should probably listen and do as he says.
“God, what’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s yours?” He shoots back, far too annoyed that you play hard to get like this. There’s no way you seriously aren’t getting it. “You’re the one sitting around like you’d rather be doing anything else.”
You press the preheat button on the oven, and look at him shocked. Are his–feelings hurt? Are you really acting like a bitch, or uninterested in getting to know the man your sister will probably spend her life with?
Were you really acting like you weren’t having a good time? God, you must be such a drag.
“What? I was having fun, Heeseung, I like watching movies with you.” You try to explain, but he cuts you off.
“Fucking act like it then.” He gripes before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the kitchen.
It’s not like you knew he expected you to be interested in friendship with him or anything. You were just…hanging out. You really didn’t know it was supposed to go differently in his head, and the fact that it appears that he does have a specific expectation? You wonder how to fulfill it.
After all, you’re trying to avoid showing all the interest you actually have for him when you’re hanging out. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And well, by the time he’s out of the shower and presenting himself to you, you think you might have a better idea as to what he’s thinking. Is he trying to impress you right now?
You can smell his cologne mixed with a minty scented shampoo. His hair looks blow dried. His skin is glistening, and he’s fucking shirtless.
He watches when he sits down, this time closer to you on the couch presumably so you could share the pizza sitting on the coffee table just in front of you then he checks the clock. Only about thirty minutes wasted out of the remaining time he has with you alone, and then he checks you. Staring. Damn right.
To you, he looks different.
Not just handsome, or kind of endearing in a loser way. But he actually looks sexy sitting there, with those loose gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of size, and his exposed torso makes it harder to keep your eyes to yourself.
His broad shoulders seem to accentuate his neck much more than you imagined considering you never have seen him lounge around like this, and his hair is no longer dented. It’s washed, fresh, and looks fucking good on him.
Then, his smirk. It’s permanent on that knowing face of his.
“What are you looking at?” He side eyes you, totally ignoring the pizza because he wasn’t actually hungry.
He feels a victory welling up in his chest at the way you look at him though, seeing you already get so flustered? So easy.
“Um,” You pause, tearing your eyes away in embarrassment. “Nothing.”
He chuckles once in a short breath before stretching himself back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide and taking dominance over the space in the room.
“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He flirts easily, testing the waters of how willing you are to admit that he’s getting his way. “You were checking me out.”
You face forward now, shifting closer to the arm of the couch and pretending like you can't feel the warmth of the hot water he must have used radiating off of him.
“Of course not!” You laugh nervously, lunging forward for the remote again. “Why would I check you out?”
Heeseung rolls his eyes at your shitty attempt to lie.
“Because I took my shirt off for you.” He says, turning his head to look at you with a malicious smirk. “Was that not obvious?”
You turn to look at him in surprise. Why the fuck would he even say that to you?!
“Do you like me better this way? Half naked?”
“What are you talking about?” You avoid him like your life depends on it, not wanting to admit that you definitely find him more attractive right now than you ever have, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this only further pushes you to want what you can’t have.
“You think I’m hot, don’t you?” He presses, bouncing his leg and keeping his eyes on the way your chest heaves at his words.
“You want me, don’t you?” He continues pressing, repeating the question in a way that makes you feel forced to agree with him.
“You’re gonna think about me the next time you–”
“Heeseung!” You shout, turning your entire body towards him with heat searing on your cheekbones. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re dating my sister.” You try to bring both him and yourself back to reality with that statement, more upset internally at the fact that you’re right about it.
He’s dating your sister and yet, he’s…doing this. To you. And you fucking like it?
“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs you off, looking down at his lap and feeling a twitch at the way you don’t leave the room. Proving in some way that you definitely like it. “And I’m still right, aren’t I? You’re just playing hard to get.”
You stare at him, dumbfounded and utterly shocked by his blatant attempts to come onto you. Unfortunately, you’ve never been in this situation before and your eyes tell on you the same way your body language does. Of course he’s right, and you know you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.
“Ah, Yeah.” He smiles, watching how you try to keep your eyes on his face but failing. “I’m right.” He continues, lifting his ass just slightly to accentuate the shape of his cock under these sweats for you to get a good eye full.
You swallow, looking away from him and squeezing your legs together. It feels like such a sudden change of atmosphere. What was once a deniable crush on him becomes a confusing whirlwind wet panties and zero morality.
Does he get off on trying to rile you up? There’s no fucking way he’d actually go through with any of this. He’s just doing it because he thinks it’s cute that you want him. Right?
You know for a fact that if Jay talked to you this way, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. But this is Heeseung. Not Jay, not Jake, not Sunghoon, with their shitty attempts at trying to pull off the exact thing. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad.
“I’m going to my room.” You swallow around the thick words, not at all wanting to leave the room solely because your body is giving in instantly to the fact that Heeseung is dirty talking to you for no goddamn reason.
Perhaps it’s the fact that the one thing your sister has that you shouldn’t ever be able to obtain is doing this. Never did you think a mere idea that he’s attractive would turn into a split second decision of wanting him to fuck you.
“No, you’re not.” He chuckles, spreading his legs a bit wider now and looking down at his lap, the same exact spot your eyes are looking at. “You’re going to try and keep your eyes on the screen, and we’re going to finish this movie.”
Safe to say, that was a harder demand to follow than you anticipated and he seemed to fucking love raising his brow at you each time he caught your eye on him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By the time your sister returned home and essentially tamed her boyfriend from acting out any longer, you felt…insane. She tamed him without even knowing that he was acting out, not double-taking at all when she walked in to him spread out and shirtless on the couch with you struggling to watch the movie. You felt his confidence radiating, making the living room feel suffocating and unstable in terms of if you belong there or not.
You find yourself in your room now, cuddling up in your bed with thoughts ruminating on how you have not one, not two, not three, but four men throwing themselves at you. You don’t recall ever actually giving them the idea that this is okay. Or maybe you did? You’re not sure.
You scroll through your text messages, old friends from back home falling into the background each time you open a message from Jake, or the other two that consistently check in with you like you’re some sort of prize to be won.
Maybe you want to be a prize for some handsome guy to flaunt though, and you embody all of that confidence you got from, somehow, having the one man you’re not supposed to ever obtain parading around for you.
You embody it to text back. To be bold. To give in to the arousal that just slammed you in the gut, reeling from the very idea that there are men in this world who want to fuck you and you’re about fed up with pretending it’s a lie.
You: are you done with your game?
You send the same message separately to all three of Heeseung’s friends, and somehow you’re still unaware that they all three share the information with each other in discord.
“Are you done with your game?” Jake mimics in a feminine tone. “She’s playing with all of us.”
Jay chuckles through the mic, damning them to be second and third place as he quickly texts back.
Jay: no, but I can be. Why?
“To be fair, we’re kind of playing with her too.” Sunghoon cuts in, responding in his own way to your text and telling you that he’s bored, that he’s waiting on you to give him a date and time to pick you up, that he’s annoyed with his friends.
“Well, yeah!” Jake bellows through the muffled mic. “I mean, look at her.”
“Oh, I’ve looked.” Sunghoon smiles at himself before snapping his eyes to the discord and noting how Jay has muted himself.
“That mother fucker.”
Jake follows suit, noting exactly what Sunghoon is calling out before lending a groan of his own.
“He’s trying so hard.” He rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Jay is probably already mid text-conversation with you.
And he would be right, as you lay against your pillows and let Jay’s conversation overpower the two other unopened texts from his friends.
You: im a little overwhelmed right now, not sure how to explain it.
Jay: overwhelmed how?
You: well…
You take a second to yourself to breathe, feeling your entire body radiate with a feeling that can only resemble that of want, or perhaps need. You’ve sexted multiple times in your life, but never in a situation where you’re sexting because you’re overwhelmed more than just aroused.
It’s the fact that you’re bringing it up this time after playing uninterested since any of them started texting you. You’ve dodged Jake’s dick pics, you’ve pushed off the date you agreed to go on with Sunghoon, and you’ve even gone as far as telling Jay you’re not interested at all.
Now though? You can imagine what he’d think of you to see you bring it up. Do you care though? Not that much. After all, you’re single, you’re consumed by the ability to do whatever you want, and Jay’s hot.
You: im frustrated.
You: REALLY frustrated.…sexually
Jay: oh yeah? for me?
You stare at the screen, sending him an emoji that confirms your words for a third time before swiping away and looking at your inbox of available men. You know who else is hot? Sunghoon.
You: hey if we went on a date, where would you take me?
Sunghoon: probably a movie or something idk, why? what would you wanna do?
You: id wanna go to your house
Sunghoon: and why is that, cutie?
And as you pick up conversations with both men, reeling from the attention, you think…hmm, you wanna know who else is hot? Jake.
You: Jakeeeee
Jake: whaaaat :)
You: remember that dick pic you sent to me then begged me to delete because it was an accident?
Jake: …
You: i didn’t delete it.
Jake: you like it?
You: maybe.
And you guess this is who you are now, plotting and setting up some form of sexting situation with three different men, who are all very close friends, who all very much seem to reciprocate your advances.
It’s actually pretty cool, as you lay here reading words from a different man every two minutes. Jay telling you exactly how he could help you with that frustration, Sunghoon asking you to explain what you’d wanna do in his house with him, and then Jake blatantly sending his cock to you again like he has nothing better to do.
It’s all fun and games until things start to get real heated and you get kind of into it. Focusing on Jay’s little message of, “im helping you out here, you should help me too. send pics.”
You ask yourself why you consider doing it before swiping away and landing on a video of Jake, face bright and smiling before lowering the camera. Blatantly fucking himself just because you said he had a nice dick.
Your body is feeling permanent goosebumps because of those two, overwhelming you more than you could have imagined to see just how far they’d be willing to go to try and convince you to do the same for them.
Sunghoon brings a different form of arousal in his inbox though. Far more tame than the others, asking you to push, telling you to say all of the dirty things rather than him. Pushing for a date.
Sunghoon: keep talking to me like this, ill come get you right now.
You: not yet, just this for now.
Sunghoon: no pressure, are you touching yourself at least?
You: I am
Sunghoon: yeah? thinking about me too right?
You: yea
You’re lying. Kind of. Half-lying, at least, because you are thinking about him but you’re also thinking about Jake, and Jay, and sending nudes, and– Heeseung.
You’re thinking about Heeseung, and only because you can hear the shuffling in the room a wall over. Then? Thumping, right behind you as you lay in your bed. At this moment, you should be able to focus on the men blatantly trying to fuck you, but instead you’re reminding yourself of how Heeseung looked earlier.
And you’re listening. Thumping, thumping, thumping, until you hear–
“Don’t cover your mouth, she’s probably asleep anyway.” You hear Heeseung bellow out in a far-away voice.
Great. They’re fucking. Just fucking great. Well, now what? You think, as you thumb back and forth between messages with frustration.
Your mind reels as you listen though. Imagining Heeseung more than anything being the force behind those thumps on your wall. His voice almost croaked when he regarded you directly to your sister while fucking her. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? All it took was a single day of marathoning movies?! A single shower?!
God, you’ve got to seem desperate to be reacting this way. He probably thinks that shit is funny. And as you now shove your headphones in your ears so as to not hear anymore of it, you stand on your feet and walk to your bathroom. You’re too interested in being fucked now, might as well give the boys something to look at, right?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“She really is trying to get away with it.” Sunghoon says, dumbfounded by the receipts provided by all three boys in their own private group chat.
Without Heeseung.
“Yeah, but she sent me an ass pic.” Jay boasts, smiling to himself and silently saving the other provided images that you sent to his friends.
“Whatever, I’m picking her up today for what she wants to call a “date”. She literally said she wanted me to pull her hair.”
Jake gasps, offended.
“What the fuck? She said she wanted to pull my hair!” He groans. “Why am I the one she thinks would like that?! I have a big dick! I could–”
“Anyway,” Jay cuts him off. “She really is just like her sister. Heeseung doesn’t even know how I’ve seen his precious girlfriend’s pussy, only a matter of time before I’m seeing her little sister’s too.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, ignoring Jake’s huffing and puffing as he does his best not to laugh at Jay’s almost victory over your sister.
“Well, I’m getting the girl this time.” He says, opening his texts and reading through the presumed masturbation session he shared with you last night. “Said she couldn’t wait to see me.”
“I’m sure she could though.” Jay says, competitive, wanting to win. “You’ll see.”
Sunghoon can sense the competition in the air, knowing that Jay is probably coming up with some lame ass plan to get in your pants before he can even get the chance to pick you up tonight.
And then there’s Jake.
“You know, maybe she’s right.” He rambles on, thinking hard about how your dynamic with the other two seems to differ greatly from the way you speak to him. “I do have better hair than both of you combined.”
And they stay like that, roasting each other while simultaneously lusting over the same girl until Heeseung gets online and pings them in the regular group chat for a round of gameplay.
“What’s up, virgins?” Heeseung greets, booting up his game and noting the silence in the voice chat.
“I said, what’s u–”
“We heard you.” Sunghoon chimes in, preparing himself for a direct mission of humbling the fuck out of him. “Call me a virgin all you want, doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting my dick wet tonight.”
“Please.” Heeseung laughs, rolling his eyes as he waits for them to get into the game lobby. “Who would stick your dick in them anyway?”
“Your girlfriend’s little sister.” Sunghoon announces.
Excuse me?
“In your dreams.” Heeseung tries to laugh, but is interrupted yet again by his two other friends laughing first. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Sunghoon hums a confirmation, which leads Heeseung to wonder what the fuck happened in the span of one single night. He could have sworn he had you in the palm of his hand on that couch. He knew you heard how good he fucks your sister.
There’s no way.
“Nah, she’s already got a crush on someone else.” He continues to brush Sunghoon off. “And it’s not you.”
“Yeah, because it’s me.” Jay laughs, bombarding Heeseung with another low blow. “Why else would she take her shorts off for me?”
Anger? Yes. Jealousy? Also yes.
“Bullshit.” Heeseung calls out, staring at his discord and the way his friend’s names light up every time they laugh.
“What are they trying to do, Jake? Spill.”
Jake silences his laughing.
“Oh, you think he didn’t get nudes too?” Jay laughs harder. “She sent them to all three of us last night. Different pictures too, she wasn’t skimping on the goods, I can tell you that much.”
Heeseung takes a moment to breathe through his nose. “And just why did she send you nudes?”
“I didn’t even ask for them, Hee, honest!” Jake tries to get on his good side. “I guess showing her my dick did something for her though.” That did not get him on Heeseung’s good side.
“Why the fuck is she sending you guys nudes?” He asks again, this time slightly raising his voice.
You should have been sending him nudes to prove your insatiable lust that you must have. Right? Like, why not him? If anyone?
“Oh, right.” Sunghoon finally reveals the truth. “First person to fuck her wins.”
“Is that so?” Heeseung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes at their stupid usernames.
Competition is what he’s best at.
“Yeah.” Sunghoon confirms. “And by the end of the night, I’ll be the winner.”
“That’s what he thinks, anyway.” Jay snickers. “She’s already texted me a cute little good morning like she didn’t sext three guys last night.”
“Mhm.” Jake hums into the mic. “Me too.”
Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion at that, now checking his phone and noting that he hasn’t received his own good morning from you yet. Weird.
“You guys are aware that you can’t do that, right?” Heeseung chimes in, knowing that he’s playing their game now. And he’s good at playing games. “You seriously can’t be trying to rail my girlfriend’s sister.”
“Yeah. We are, actually.” Jay overtakes the conversation. “Besides, she wants it.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You wake up feeling insanely embarrassed by how you acted like night.
Tonight’s date with Sunghoon probably won’t happen. There’s no way you can live up to the confidence you showed him.
You: hey can we raincheck?
Sunghoon: no wtf?
He reacts negatively, because his victory is now being ripped from his hands by the prize herself. It’s not even just like, the fact that he wants to fuck you just to say he did it before anyone else could. It’s the fact that you’re kind of cool. Incredibly hot, and super willing to slut yourself out.
Just his type. He loves being able to tame girls and keep them locked between his legs, with his cock in their throat.
You: sorry i just don’t feel good today, can try this weekend?
Sunghoon sighs, sending you a short approval before focusing back on the intense game playing out on his screen.
“She canceled on me.” Sunghoon complains, shooting a player dead between the eyes before crouching and running off to find his next kill of frustration. “Jay, what did you fucking do?”
Jay snorts, smirking on his end of the screen, camping like an asshole in a bathroom and waiting for some unsuspecting dad of six to run by and get his cheeks clapped by some idiot with the username of DADDYJAY02.
“Told her I’d fuck her real good if she cancels.” He jokes, mostly focused on the current game at hand.
Heeseung is pleased to learn that you’re skipping the date though, leading him to believe that maybe he was right in thinking he’s got you in the palm of his hand.
Still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got nudes in your phone. Nudes that you sent to three fucking losers that couldn’t even come close to doing what he could do for you.
“He’s talking shit. She hasn’t left her room all morning.” Heeseung says. “I already told you guys that she has a crush on someone, and it’s not any of you. So, you can go ahead and kiss your bullshit sex-game goodbye.”
Jake pipes in now, listening to the sheer amount of confidence coming from Heeseung and Jay.
“I dunno.” He breathes, picking people off one by one in his own, less-than-great playstyle. “She’s still texting me and being all cute. Maybe she just thinks you guys are weird.”
“What did she say?” Heeseung asks, now more focused on what Jake might say rather than the fact that Jay just got downed and needs help.
“Something about how she feels embarrassed about everything but likes talking to me, heart emoji and all.” He says in a nonchalant tone, now being downed himself in game. “Me and Jay are down.”
“Stay down then.” Heeseung scoffs, ignoring both dying friends as he focuses on the win.
“Dude, fucking pick me up.” Jay now argues, throwing his hands up at the gameplay, watching Heeseung blatantly run straight past him. “Heeseung! Pick me the fuck up!”
He snickers in response.
“Stop trying to fuck her and I’ll pick you up.”
“I’d rather die.” Jay argues back, accepting his in-game death and instead pulling his phone out to text you. “In fact, I’ll text her right now.”
Sunghoon, listening to the chaos and still neck-to-neck in terms of kills with Heeseung, tries to ignore the fact that he’s losing the only game he cares about winning right now.
“All three of you are starting to get annoying.” Sunghoon mumbles into the microphone, killing the last remaining player and stretching his arms out in a sigh.
“You’re just mad because she’s ghosting you for me.” Jake sings out happily.
Heeseung listens, seething in his head about how they’re really just gonna keep doing this shit and decides, fine.
He’s already playing the game they’re playing. He’s been playing it for much longer, actually, with those panties he took from your dresser when he built it. With the way he placed your bed against the same wall his bed is against, just so you could listen and suffer for his cock to stuff you full instead.
If it’s a fucking competition they want, they’re gonna get it.
And with that? He logs off without so much as a goodbye before heading to his bathroom. For the first time in years caring more and more about how he dresses and carries himself just to see you want him.
He styles his hair, brushes his teeth, perfects his hair with the hood up on his hoodie, and then heads straight to your room.
“Hey, Sunghoon said he’s supposed to be going on a date with you tonight.” He says as soon as he gets to your door.
You look panicked.
“Oh, he told you?” You say, avoiding eye contact with him because goddamn does he look good today but also, what the fuck Sunghoon?!
“Yeah.” He answers in a less than entertained tone.
“Did he–” You pause, now looking at him and his stupid attractive stance against your door. “–say anything else?”
“Oh, he told me all about it.” He admits to you now, loving the way you curl into your own embarrassment. “I did warn you, you know.”
You blink at him, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Especially because the only reason you went for his friends was because he got you all choked up.
“Still, I thought you’d tame yourself a little bit. I mean– Jay too? Really?” Heeseung starts to pick you apart with the information he’s learned today. “And Jake?”
You groan out, covering your face with both hands.
“God, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You try to explain. “I just–”
“You were wet.” He answers for you, smiling at the way you try to run from the truth. “So wet for me that you ran to my friends?”
Only now do you move your hands from your face and look at him. Shocked that he got straight to the point, and is entirely correct.
“You got their hopes up, you know.” He continues, taking control of the situation as he crosses his arms and leans his head back and against your doorframe. “Right after getting my hopes up.”
“What are you–”
“You know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what I’m doing.” He cuts you off, speaking for you, thinking for you, not letting you get a word in to doubt a single thing he’s saying. “You know what you’re doing too. So, look at me next time I come in here and call you out on your bullshit.”
Your eyes stay on him, full of embarrassment and a sense of guilt. You feel scolded, which is so fucking wrong and weird for it to come from him of all people.
“Time to stop pretending now, babe. If you want this–” He says, looking down between his legs and grabbing his bulge. “You’ll stay away from my friends.”
And then he just…leaves with a smile? Doesn’t even let you respond?
“I’m going to the store, we don’t have shit to eat in this house.” You hear him complain as he walks down the hallway, acting as if he didn’t just word-fuck you with the truth that you weren’t quite ready to accept.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re losing it. Truly, you’re losing every ability in your body to ignore the fact that you not only think about Heeseung in ways you shouldn’t, you want him in ways that should be a fucking crime.
Seeing him grab himself like that in your doorway? Fuck, if he hadn’t of walked away right after, you very well may have found yourself with your ankles up by your ears, begging him to use it on you.
No self restraint at this point, and you don’t even care.
Your phone is long forgotten as you pace your room, wondering if you should leave the house too, just to find a sex shop that has a Heeseung sized and shaped cock for you to fuck yourself on in order to get this intense feeling of need out of you.
That’s really all it took for him to make you go fucking feral for it? A little bit of flirting? A little bit threatening? A grab of his cock, practically dangling it in front of you like the two of you are allowed to be having those kinds of moments together?
Fuck him for knowing how to get you horny more than you know how to do it yourself. Since when did you like men to act that way towards you? Since fucking when did you get off on a boyfriend that your sister intends to fucking marry?!
It’s so fucked up, and it’s equally fucking hot to you because it’s fucked up.
Out of everything your sister has that you don’t, Heeseung is the one you want most. And he’s just fucking…he’s just–
God damn it. You sigh, pacing back and forth, checking the time on your phone and ignoring all of your unread texts. Heeseung has only been gone for a total of ten minutes and it feels like you’ve been pacing for hours.
Throbbing between your legs at the small glimpses of his size under whatever pants he wears. With his hair, and his skin, and his stupid, shit-eating smirk that he throws at you. Telling you he knows. Showing you that he likes it.
You stop your pacing for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and flutter the images of him out of your head. Trying to get the reality to come back to you.
What’s fucked up is that it is reality that he’s doing this to you. You can’t avoid it like it’s a guilty little wet dream you’d be able to hide.
It’s real.
And, well, fuck it. You love your sister just as much as you always have, even as you want to fuck her boyfriend. Even as her boyfriend seemingly wants to fuck you.
Even as you leave your room, entering their room for the first time.
Even as you inspect their bed, the placement suspiciously right on the other side of your own bed against the wall.
Even as you smell the familiar scent of Heeseung on one of the pillows and instantly throw yourself on the bed against it, shoving it between your legs in a desperate and obvious show of how much you really, really, fucking want it.
And if this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind? So be it.
His pillow is soft, offering little pressure to your clit as you writhe against it, but you moan louder than you ever have while pleasuring yourself. For once, the house is empty and for once, you have a point of arousal that doesn’t involve porn.
Your mind falls into images of him, and the way he moves his body during every day instances. Then, to the way he sounded when he fucked your sister in this very same bed. He must fuck hard, because that consistent thumping on your wall seemed to prove it already.
Fuck, you hope he fucks hard.
You saw the outline of it a few times by now too, so big even while flaccid and uninterested in you. He must know how to contain himself too. Real calm, real collected when it comes to how he’d probably use it.
The images swim up and down behind your eyes as you writhe your clit against the corner of his pillow for what feels like ages, knowing your panties are being pushed into the folds of your wet core, feeling your shorts skew as you move, back and forth, stretching with each grind forward.
You’re aware that parts of your pussy are out in the open between grinds, feeling the soft material of his pillow rub you only slightly raw with the force of your movements, and you simply don’t care. You’re home alone, remember?
Wait. How long have you been doing this again?
“Oh, fuck yeah.” You hear from behind you, startling you into a defensive position of curling around the pillow. “Bumping it real good, weren’t you? Right up on my pillow?” Heeseung laughs, standing just inside of the room with a step much quieter than he’d normally have when he’s walking around.
“Fuck, that’s so gross.” He snickers with hooded eyes and a triumphant smirk as he crosses his arms.
“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Like I wouldn’t be able to smell it? I smelled you when I walked in.”
God, the fucking horror that replaces the arousal hits you harder than you ever knew it could as you jump to your feet on buckled knees and try to mutter out an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
He just said you were gross. He said he could smell you while scrunching his nose.
“I’m sorry, Heeseung, I’m sorry.” You continue, trying to make your way past him ultimately so you can lock yourself in your bedroom to never come out.
“Hmm, what makes you think you could just come in here and fuck my things?” He isn’t going to let you go that easy, of course he isn’t.
The thing about him is, he knows he’s got you now. That little sex bet going with his friends? They’re done for.
Full control of the whole situation is right here in the palm of his hand, and the proof is that embarrassing wet spot you left on his pillow. This was all he needed. You made him chase, and he’ll be damned if he gives you what you want now so easily.
It’s your turn to ache with the same feeling between your legs. You’re going to be fucking gone by the time he finally gives it to you.
“I thought y–” You try to explain, not looking him in the eye when he holds you in place by the arm from leaving.
“Thought I wanted you over her?” He mutters to you in a hot whisper, pulling you back and against him, dipping his head and chasing your line of sight to force you to look at him. “Oh my god, how sad.”
You try look away, entirely confused, embarrassed, fucking ashamed.
Never have you let guilt take you over like this because you’ve never allowed yourself to be in a position to feel so goddamn stupid.
He’s going to tell her what you did. You might as well go pack your shit now and get ready to go back home because this was not okay.
“I’m sorry. I misread…” You’re being forced to look at him, but you still keep your eyes on the bottom of his chin rather than his eyes, feeling his hands squeeze you, not at all noticing how rock fucking hard he is due to the sheer terror you feel at this moment.
“Mm, no you didn’t.” He explains, eyes scanning over your flushed face, tears prickling in your eyes.
And once again, fucking confusion. The weight of guilt lifts off of you at his words, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes this time. Urging him to tell you that he does want you. That everything you thought previously was true.
That he was trying to come onto you.
“You were throwing your legs open for just anyone.” He lands the blow harshly, with his breath hitting you square in the forehead. “I just wanted to see if you were really as slutty as Jay said you were.”
A direct blow to any confidence you ever could have had walking around this house.
You fell for it. Your sister is dating a piece of shit, and somehow you still find him so attractive. You still wish he was lying.
You still wish he liked you, or wanted you on some level.
“God, such a cry baby too.” He rolls his eyes now, breathing in deep before releasing his hold on you. “Go cry in your room, I’m sure you still have an orgasm to get, don’t you?”
You refuse the eye contact again as you try to walk away in a way that you wish could make you disappear. He’s making damn sure to shame you straight into the dirt, and it makes you feel so unclean.
“Don’t you?” He repeats with a louder voice as you walk away, stepping into your room, and closing the door behind you.
Yeah, you’re still probably going to get that orgasm. He knows it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is a nightmare to be around. You’re annoyed that you didn’t notice it before and actually wanted to be around him before that mishap with his pillow.
You can’t read him.
When your sister is home, he ignores you for the most part. He spends his time on his PC yelling with friends, he scoffs at you, looks at you like you look and sound ridiculous any time you say something, yet, when he’s with your sister, he’s so, so, loving.
All over her, really. Hands on her waist, back, thighs, ass. He’s so sexual with her in front of you, to the point that you can’t make eye contact at all with either of them.
To the point that you miss it every time when he checks to see if you’re watching.
What’s worse about Heeseung is that you think now that he has no interest in you. Everything he did really was for an ego boost, or like some shitty game he was playing. It got to the point that, yeah, you’re sexting at least one of his friends as often as possible despite never giving them a reason to come over, and certainly not going to see them yourself.
It’s like a bandaid as you lay in your bed night after night listening to Heeseung on the other side of the wall draw you into a state of lust, pining, and absent passion. So vocal, when he’s fucking her. You always feel alone when he does it, with your fingers slamming away and offering pleasure that never gets you there. You always come up short, never being able to get off.
Even with all of that, he still flirts.
Which fucks you up even more. He’ll make you feel so awful about everything that’s happened, everything you actively say or do, and then turn around and smile at you when your sister is at work.
He’ll offer to make dinner for you. He’ll do your laundry and fold it, always mixing his clothes into the pile by accident. He’ll touch your waist. He’ll brush his hand past yours when he catches you in the hallway while walking by.
When you try to flirt back, or look at him for too long though? Hope in your eyes and weight lifting from your shoulders at his hidden actions? He shuts you down instantly.
Like this morning, when you left your room and went to the kitchen to make coffee, he was already there. He came up behind you real close, rubbing what you presume to be his soft dick against your ass as he lifted and grabbed the filters down for you.
And when you choked up and looked at him? He could see that little glint of hope in your eyes.
“I was just helping. Jesus christ, you’re more needy than your sister.”
Or that time yesterday, when you were lounging on the couch and he came out after a shower in those same fucking sweat pants, without a shirt again, and sat down next to you. Spreading his legs wide, smirking, and watching you try to avoid his eyes.
“Can’t even look at me without getting wet, huh?”
Safe to say, Heeseung is playing the game with his friends a little too hard. Knowing that at any point during the day if he wanted to push you to the floor and take you, he fucking could.
So that leaves you now, sitting here feeling about as crazy as you did the day you ran into his room and started fucking his pillow. Every day is felt with sexual frustration that you don’t know what to do with, even sexting his friends, even receiving their videos and hot words, even with their promises of multiple orgasms and hour long sessions of head, your frustration isn’t satiated.
You worry it never will be if Heeseung doesn’t move out, or like, fall out a window or something.
And as you leave your room to go back to the kitchen for a snack, of course you note the open door of the office that is far too silent compared to thirty minutes earlier.
Of course, Heeseung has trained you to be entirely too curious about what he’s doing at all times when the two of you are alone.
Of course, you don’t turn and walk away the moment you see his back turned, shoulder moving, and a brightly colored hentai flashing across his monitor.
In fact, you stand there solely because you can’t deny yourself of this.
“Was wondering if you’d come in here.” He mutters through a breath, turning his face for a moment before pumping his hand harder. “S’only fair that I let you watch too, right?”
He’s bringing up the pillow incident. Again. Like he hasn’t brought it up a million times since it happened as a form of shaming you. Telling you how it smelled, laughing and asking how many times you planned to do it behind his back.
You’re still frozen though, coming to terms with the fact that he could call you an ugly whore and you’d probably accept it at face value just to watch the very scene in front of you.
Are you selfish or are you just desperate?
Maybe a bit of both.
“Come over here.” He says to your silence, now swiveling his chair around and ignoring the animated fuck-fest on screen.
You take in an inhale, trying not to show it by looking away from him, but ultimately failing when your eyes fall straight to where his hand is in his pants. The tent created by the sheer size of him leaving far too much for you to think about.
Anyone in this situation would call him a loser. Jerking it to hentai? Looking the way he does? Being unemployed and doing this at like, eleven in the morning? You can tell he hasn’t slept too, and that’s entirely something a simp would do. Something a virgin would do.
But, you want him. You’ve never been so attracted to someone, actually. He sees you swallow at the image too, smirking and stilling his hand.
“Shit, you’re really just going to watch me?”
Yeah. You figured that was obvious to him, considering he already thinks you’re gross, embarrassing, and shameless. It’s not like you not watching at this point would change his mind about you.
So, you just stand there, watching, waiting.
Until he gives you a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head.
“Come on, get a better look then.” He encourages you through a soft moan, sliding his fingers on the underside of his length, feeling the pre-cum drip out.
There it is again. Him acting interested.
It’s really the worst because you give in every single time, clinging to the hope that maybe he really is interested this time, only to be shot down time and time again.
Right now is no different from the countless other times he’s flirted just to laugh at you trying to flirt back. Even as you walk towards him with shaking hands gripping the bottom of your own shirt for comfort, you know he’s probably just going to pull his hand out of his pants and probably present a very large cucumber or something before laughing at the fact that you really thought.
Except, he doesn’t do that.
You can see the wet spot at the top of the tent his cock creates, right where the head rubs up against the fabric and it proves that he’s really touching himself right now.
“Lower.” He instructs under hooded eyes, head leaned back against his chair, body slouched and relaxed. “On the floor.”
Ah, the fucking power he has is electrifying. You really just do everything he says in the hopes that someday, he’ll put it in you. In the hopes that someday, he will show you what it is that your sister loves so much about him.
The way you do lower yourself to your knees on his floor, sitting right there in front of him with your eyes glued to the hidden act of what he’s doing to himself? God, you’re dirty.
He chews on his lower lip as he works himself up to the image of you simply on your knees, gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing holding you from falling off of the earth. So pretty, so complacent, so willing.
Fuck, he knows his friends want you and he can imagine that they must furiously get off to this very image themselves, thought up all by themselves. Except they’ve actually seen your body, Heeseung hasn’t seen shit.
“Take it off.” He says through a breath, the words shaking with each pump of his fist as he tries to stimulate the whole length of his cock without pulling it out.
It’s a tight fit in his pants right now, but he isn’t going to show you a damn thing.
You blink up at him, your eyes shining and bright at the fact that you’re fine not seeing it. You seem totally satisfied just watching him pleasure himself.
Oh god, you’re fucking perfect.
Even more perfect when you do remove your shirt, tits sitting nice and naked for him to stare at harder. Big. Plush. Prettier than the ones that are drawn to perfection by horny men on his screen just to the side of him. Prettier than your sister’s, even.
“Ah, yeah.” He comments, hand pumping faster, cock leaking more. “Just sit right there and look pretty for me.”
And, you do. Hands now pressed into the carpet beneath you, gripping the texture much like you did your shirt just to press your tits together for him. Just so he wants you right now, even if he won’t ten minutes from now.
He really does just watch you too. The image of you alone like this seemingly just enough to get him there when you notice his head slam back against the headrest of his chair again.
Bottom lip bitten, eyebrows raised, a held breath, and then he’s releasing that same breath along with his cum. All into his hand and against his pants as he pumps harder through the sensitivity of his orgasm.
Eyes falling back to you, darker this time, he smirks as he slides his hand from his pants, careful not to lose any of that thick, milky, cum, and tipping his fingers at you.
“Ahh-” He opens his mouth, speaking to you as if he’s feeding you a snack, and for some reason, you mimic it.
Your mouth opens as you lean forward and he slips his fingers in, relishing in the feeling of your frantic tongue licking up the taste of him.
So desperate, god, you want it so bad and he can see it.
He can feel it.
And by the time you’ve licked his fingers clean, eyes tearing up because you know he’s about to mock you for how much you loved the taste of it, he pulls his hand back and says nothing.
He doesn’t even smile at you when he stands up, staring down at you like he owns you.
You’re just sitting on the floor shirtless, avoiding his eye contact and preparing for whatever fucked up thing he wants to say about it, salty sweet remnants of his flavor in your mouth, and near tears in your eyes.
“You really did that.” He says before stepping to the side of you and heading for the door. “Swallowed all of it too.”
You did, and of course you’re ashamed despite sitting here wet and aching. You nod as you stare at the floor in shame, hands clasped in your lap.
“Good girl.” He breathes out to you before leaving for the bathroom, not another word muttered to you.
And as Heeseung stands looking at himself in the mirror, chest heaving as he reels from what just took place, he smiles. God, the horror you must feel right now. If you knew how much he liked this and how willing you were to take what you can get, you’d probably be the happiest girl alive.
You’re so willing to feel ashamed, so willing to be shamed, just to look at him? Just to see him do this? Just to suck all of his cum off of his fingers?
You’re fucking crazy.
If you knew how he silently jerked off, breathing in that pillow you had against your pussy, you’d probably orgasm on the spot. If you fucking knew how he stole your panties the very day you moved in, you’d probably give him the ones you’re wearing now just to please him.
Ah, so perfect. It’s only a matter of time now.
Only a matter of time before he wins and shuts his friends up for fucking good, because honestly, it’s getting old now to hear his friends pretend they have a shot at this with you.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Living with your sister became something you never meant for it to be. You’re not living with her, you’re living with fucking guilt, and confusion, and insatiable lust for the man she’s supposed to be pleasing every night.
In fact, the amount you see her is far less than you originally thought. She works so much, and when she’s not working overtime just to come home and love on her asshole of a boyfriend, and tell you sweet goodnights like you didn’t eat his cum off his fingers, she’s sleeping away the exhaustion of being the only good person in this house.
Unfortunately for her though, you don’t care.
You appreciate the freedom she’s given to you on a silver platter, with a nice new bedroom suite and good food in the fridge, but you know she didn’t bring you here with the intention of giving you this much freedom.
She gave you the ability to fuck and be fucked whenever and where ever you want, but the choice wasn’t meant to be Heeseung. With his ever changing moods, annoying gamer rage, and disconcerting need to flirt and shame you.
You can’t believe you’re sitting here across from her before yet another one of her shifts, drinking the same juice, eating the same breakfast, pretending like you haven’t tasted the same cum she has.
You can’t believe that while growing up, you always shared her stuff against her will. She hated finding you wearing one of her favorite tops, or her new pairs of shoes. She would get so mad and all you can think now is that, surely she would kill you if she found out what else you’ve used behind her back.
And when you watch Heeseung kiss her goodbye, he seems all too entertained with the situation. Watching you pretend like you don’t want him, watching your sister be blissfully unaware of who his dick twitches for.
Watching, watching, watching.
Staring, really, at you through the kiss. Up until she leaves for the day and you’re left staring back at him. Heeseung lends you a small wave with an uncaring face, wiggling the same fingers he fucked your mouth with in your face, almost seeming like he’s attempting to lure you to open those same lips again for him.
Almost as if to remind you that you’re pathetic.
And goddammit. You fucking are.
That’s why, of course, you’ve found yourself time and time again in these same text messages. Fully guilty of leading these guys on but not nearly as guilty as you feel each time you show how bad you need it to the one man who doesn’t deserve it.
Jay, if he could, would probably fuck you right on the doorstep by this point with the amount of nudes, phone calls, and blatant shows of sexual interest. You can sense how annoyed he is with cumming all by himself using your photos, but like, that’s very attractive of him to wait.
Sunghoon? So frustrated with you for never following up with him, but entirely willing to fuck you with his dirty words and images of what he’d love to do if you’d just get the fuck out of the house for a day.
And Jake, ah, Jake. The cutest. One you’d take all of this frustration out on, the one who would probably apologize to you for everything bad that’s ever happened to you mid-orgasm solely because he wouldn’t know what else to say or do when he’s feeling so good.
Sexting any of them, or all of them, is really your only relief from the man who looms around this house. But at this point, even that is doing nothing for you.
Even as you read Jay’s texts, knowing he’s actively playing video games at the same time and not jerking off like he claims.
Jay: take a new one, i want more material
You: you’re not even touching yourself, you know I can hear heeseung yell at you right?
Jay: what? you think I can’t multitask?
You: is that why he’s yelling then?
Jay: one handing it and still got more kills than him, yea
God, he’s too confident while being such a fucking loser, but yeah, you’ll send him a new picture. You’ll go ahead and send it to Jake too. And Sunghoon, of course.
Then you pause with your fingers on the screen, zooming in on your body and checking it. Only half wondering what would happen if you took a pussy picture. Only half thinking of sending it to Heeseung. Not the other three, just him.
Half wondering turns to full wondering, as you listen to him yell something about Jay going down again mid match, proving that he probably was, in fact, fucking his fist mid-game and absolutely not getting more kills.
Heeseung’s voice sounds so full of anger. So loud, cracking in pitch even. It’s hard to imagine someone sounding so stupid being able to act in a way that’s made you feel so lost and ashamed of wanting him.
Yet, he did. And that’s why you decide right at this moment, you’ll always give in to his flirting even while knowing he’ll mock you and make fun of you for it. You’ve already dealt with it to the point that you’re used to it. At least you still get something out of it, right?
At least, maybe, he’ll give you something else to feel ashamed of today, right?
And as you take that photo, lying back on your bed, shifting your panties to the side and spreading your lips open for the camera, you snap a photo of your hole for him. Right there, already wet just imagining him thinking you’re pathetic for doing this.
At this point, you’re not feeling too ashamed of it right now. After all, he jerked off looking at you like there wasn’t at least three holes being fucked and filled on the screen behind him before. So…
You send the photo to him, ignoring the displayed message from Jay stating, “you only sent this one to me, right?”
And then you wait.
And you wait.
And wait.
You can still hear Heeseung yelling his gaming talk, but you watch his text messages like a hawk. Feeling nervous, terrified, embarrassed, shamed, turned on, curious, wet.
Each time he’s silent, you stare at the messages, up until you notice that he’s opened it.
He saw it.
You wait for footsteps, you wait to hear him tell his friends that he’ll be back. You wait for him to stomp in here and call you gross.
And you wait more.
And more.
Up until you can’t wait any longer and you find yourself shifting up and off of your bed, leaving your phone behind as you make your way to the office. He’s facing away from you as usual, the character on screen on a swivel as the scope of the gun searches for a head to shoot, and then– his phone.
Right there beside him, open, the image pulled up.
“What are you trying to do?” He says, but you can’t tell if it’s for you or his friends.
You stand there, pussy looking much the same as it was in that photo, except now with your shorts back on you, and panties back in place.
“Trying to fuck me over right now?” He continues when a kill screen shows up and he’s got a few seconds to lift his hand from the mouse. Not even looking at you, he beckons you with two fingers and pushes his chair back just slightly.
By the time you get up beside him, he puts his fingers over his mouth, glancing up at you, then down at his phone and tapping it. Immediately after tapping, he points to the floor in front of him, scooting back more to make room for you.
The silent conversation is loud as he narrows his eyes at you when you sink to your knees on the floor in front of him. You crawl under the desk, legs quivering at the idea that he’s absolutely ignoring you, but also inviting you.
As if he’s feeding you what you want. As if he doesn’t need this too.
And maybe he doesn’t, you think, as you carefully reach forward to his knees, feeling him push his chair in and trap you under the desk. He doesn’t look hard, proving that he’s simply allowing you to quench your thirst for his cum, surely.
Allowing you to be pathetic.
Allowing you to see it.
And finally, you do. He’s even polite enough to lift his ass up a bit just to let you pull his sweats down to get it out. Slowly growing at the feeling of your breath against it.
You breathe deeply before you press your lips against it instantly, darting your tongue out curiously and closing your eyes to relish in the first taste of his skin. It’s a clean taste, and despite him not being fully hard for this just yet, it only drives you to do better, to do more, until he actually wants you to do this for him, not just for you.
You could argue that it seemed much bigger when he was jerking it off in front of you, then again, he’s still not fully hard yet.
It actually hurts your feelings that you’re the one needing to get him horny right now. After all, you are clearly hungry for it, not him.
And you take him into your mouth again, and again, feeling him stiffen by the second. Still, his focus isn’t on you or what you’re doing down here.
Until it is, anyway.
By this point, you’re actually struggling to take him into your mouth, and you can argue he’s only at half-girth as you try. The top of your head bumps his desk every few seconds, which forces you to keep him in your mouth.
Kind of terrifying actually, to have put something in your mouth so readily only to regret the fact that his cock is essentially locked in by the small pace you’re trapped in, and it’s only swelling up more and more by the second.
Hardening until your throat is constricting around it, forcing you to gag and search for breath.
It’s hard to breathe as you cough and drool around him, frantically trying to pull off of him and hitting your head hard against the desk when you do.
He fucking chuckles at it before you feel his hand slip under the desk with you and grab his now fully hard cock. What does he do with it? He fucking slaps it straight across your face before forcing it right back between your lips.
You hate to say how wet that made you, and you hate even more to say that you kind of like the feeling of your throat getting bruised. Willing yourself to gag around him again, trying to twitch your tongue against the weight of his far too big length in your mouth.
You don’t want him to laugh though, you want him to fucking moan. All for his friends to hear. After all, it’s the first time you’re going down on him and it’ll probably be the last time too, right?
Not to mention, you’ve barely had experiencing sucking dick as it is, he should he fucking helping you get through this.
But he’s not. He’s just…playing his fucking game. Hell, the twitches of his length against your gag reflex is probably more for the kill he gets rather than the way your dripping spit all over and down his balls.
This is embarrassing, and yet– you love it. You fucking adore it, with the way your clit aches just at the thought that he’s letting you put your mouth on him at all.
Maybe it really is for you, and not for him.
“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung groans, probably more to his game than to you.
His hand shoots under the table, right to the top of your head as his other balances himself on the seat of his chair. There, he holds your head down on him and angles his hips just slightly to fuck up. Gaging you repeatedly, holding back his own moans at the way you’re just going to let him use you like this.
And as quickly as it happened, that short grunt from him not going unnoticed, he’s drawing his hands back above his desk, relaxing his body, and giving back the control.
Already, you can hear his fingers against the keyboard again.
“Back in the game, Jay, to the right!” He shouts, showing you that he absolutely just fucked your face because he got fucking downed in the game.
And you continue, trying to give him that same feeling that he forced on you just now, and never quite getting the same force behind your lips or tongue for him. His cock is throbbing though, choking you with each dribble and spurt of precum, up until he’s pulling the same trick.
Fucking up, holding your throat down on him, for just a bit until he’s back in the game and playing.
This happens for what feels like forever. To the point that surely, you’re drenching the carpet under you, and you’re starting to feel insecure in the fact that he hasn’t cum yet. Are you really just…bad at giving head?
Heeseung’s legs shift as you continue, slowing your pace and trying to rub your jaw through it with your free hand that’s not gripping the fabric of his lowered sweats. You do this up until his cock is suddenly sliding further and further out of your throat when he rolls his chair back.
Ah.
Oh.
Oh, my god. You think, getting the first glimpse of his face since you started. Blown out pupils staring down under his desk, hair a mess, mic right up against his smirking lips.
He looks…like he enjoyed it? Maybe? Are you getting ahead of yourself?
“You want more?” He asks, straight into the mic and confusing his friends. “I can see how much you want it, baby, come on. I’ll give it to you.”
You stare up at him, pretending that when you crawl out from under the desk and try to stand, you can’t hear the way he turns up the volume of his friends responding in confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You hear the familiar voice of Sunghoon. “If you’re gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least mute yourself, dick.”
You nervously glance to his game that’s still full screened. You knew he was gaming with his friends since this morning, but for him to talk to you like this as if they can’t hear him?
“They’ll want to hear you.” He comments now, alerting his friends that he’s obviously not talking to them. “Trust me, they don’t fucking shut up about you.”
That’s when they realize.
“No fucking way.” Jake blurts. “There’s no way.”
Jay remains silent, staring at his unanswered text message before minimizing his game and dropping his mouth in surprise.
“Come on then, you already let me fuck that pretty mouth, might as well, right?” He says to you again, this time lifting his hips and tapping his desk. “Bend over for me.”
What you think is just an unmuted mic, unfortunately, is much, much more than that. You see, Heeseung likes to stream to his friends, back and behind his full screened game was the image of him suffering through your need to deep throat him half to death.
He remained calm, at first not exactly wanting his friends to know. Not wanting them to see you like this, and most certainly not wanting them to have any images of you to get off to. But now? Oh, to win their own game in front of them?
‘Fuck, look at that.” He says, watching you take the spot in front of him and bend over his desk, keyboard buttons pressing in and glitching the screen out momentarily due to your tits lying against it. “Now look up.” He instructs.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Jake blurts again once he minimized his game and instantly saw you on the camera, looking so out of it, so unaware. “Sunghoon, are you seeing this?”
Jay was still watching with his mouth agape, cock leaking as it always does for you except now? It’s the fact that Heeseung is really just gonna do something so awful to your sister? He’s really going to fuck you right here, right now? With proof?!
“Heeseung, don’t.” Sunghoon warns, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him.
“Don’t what? Sunghoon?” Heeseung smiles as he reaches his hands around the front of you, pulling you back by groping both of your tits. “Fuck your girl in front of you?”
You just listen, shocked that Sunghoon is actually asking Heeseung to stop. Shocked that they apparently have beef or something, over you? Surely not.
“No–” Sunghoon chokes back. “Don’t turn off the camera.”
“Camera?!” You panic, trying to break free of his grip on your chest, but he holds you there, pressing you closer with your back to his chest, his cock throbbing under your thigh.
“What? Now you have an issue with cameras?” Heeseung seethes sarcastic words into your hair, squeezing your tits harder now. “Relax, baby, I know they’ve already seen you like this.”
“Right?” Heeseung now directs his attention to the screen, lunging forward to quickly minimize the full-screened game, getting a good look at his friends and you in the camera against him.
The image is wildly attractive to him for many reasons. For one, he can see himself on the screen with his point of desire sitting right here on his lap. Secondly, his friends are awestruck by what he gets to have right now. Shamelessly watching, biting their words back, taking in deep breaths. And lastly, he can tell that everyone on camera right now either wants to be him or be fucked by him.
What’s not to love about this?
And Heeseung is quick when he flashes his eyes away from each of his friends, straight to you in the camera, watching you avoid looking at the screen. He moves one hand from your chest, pushes his chair back, and immediately cups between your legs.
“You show them this too, or was that just for me?”
You shake your head at Heeseung, reeling with embarrassment and arousal as you try to squeeze your legs closed around his hand. You feel choked up, throat sore, legs buckled, clit throbbing for him to dig his palm against it.
“Mm, you see that Jay?” Heeseung moves his eyes to his friend on screen. “Couldn’t even get her to show her pussy for you?”
Jay appears entirely tuned into the situation, eyebrows sitting furrowed and focused on you. God, if only he focused that much in game, Heeseung thinks he could probably out rank him if he wanted to.
“Jake?” Heeseung trails to his other friend, making sure each and every one of them hears and sees exactly what he’s doing.
Your eyes follow the names Heeseung calls out. Shyly, somewhat dazed. Tearing your eyes from Jay was already hard enough as is. After all, seeing his blatant attraction to you right there, in front of everyone? Maybe you should have let him hit, even just once because damn. It’s almost pitiful, that look in his eye as he watches you.
Jake on the other hand? You can tell he lets his hair fall partly in front of his eyes but he smiles to himself while watching. Something about seeing him like this makes you feel like you’ve just experienced extreme whiplash. It embarrasses you more knowing that you figured Jake was too inexperienced to know how to fuck a girl. He was too sweet.
Too soft.
Too different from his friends.
As you look at him now though, you realize he isn’t different at all. In fact, he might have been more full of shit than any of the others as you stare at his wicked eyes and nod of approval at Heeseung.
Hell, he’s even the one who mutters out a small, “Show us her tits.”
The only reason Heeseung does as Jake asked is because he can’t help but relish in the look on their faces of seeing what they could have had, but now never will. To see them lose. To witness him win.
They’re pathetic. Truly, when he drags your shirt up your belly and over your chest. Already braless, of course. And honestly, you’re shocked that they all react this way like you didn’t just send them tit pics but–
This is more embarrassing somehow. Four pairs of eyes are on you and only one pair of hands. You want all of their hands.
“I fucking knew you’d let me do this.” Heeseung chuckles against your ear, cupping his hands under your tits and presenting them to his friends. Bouncing them, rubbing them, pulling on both nipples before releasing them and letting your tits fall into their natural position. “Knew you were a slut the moment I saw the kind of panties you had hidden in that suitcase of yours.”
You glance away from the camera now, knowing Heeseung is right with his words.
“You should be fighting me, not dripping that pretty pussy all over me. Am I wrong?”
You should be fighting. You shouldn’t be okay with this moment being broadcasted to three different people that you’ve been leading on. And yeah, you should hate him for all of the confusion and mental anguish he put you through.
Yet, the arousal you have for him outweighs all of it. The arousal you have for this situation in general outweighs any shame you could feel, or the shame that comes after it.
Being wanted like this by four men who you find incredibly attractive?
“What more could a girl want?” You murmur in a hushed tone, rolling your hips just slightly on his lap, letting him feel the warmth of you seep into his sweatpants. His cock still hard and raging from your previous actions of choking on him.
Those words shock him as his eyes glance to the screen, noting how you’re writhing your body on him, totally shameless, totally fucking perfect with your tits out and on display, only pushing for more. It’s the fact that he fucking forgot he had his head set on for a moment and didn’t even catch that you whispered that shit straight into his mic.
He only realized it when he saw three faces on screen drop to a slack jawed expression and Sunghoon immediately leaned forward with a groan of “spread her legs.”
On any other day, for Heeseung, Jake, or Jay, seeing Sunghoon clearly push his pants down his thighs off camera would make them recoil and make fun of him. But they’re not right now, because the focus isn’t on any of the cocks being openly hard in this shared online space.
The focus is on you, and the way Heeseung absolutely spreads your legs and pushes your knees up by the thighs so that the flat of your feet are resting on his knees. There, he drops his hands from your tits and reaches around you, rubbing the line of your shorts on the insides of your thighs just enough that glimpses of your panties flash every few seconds.
From back here, the camera offers Heeseung the same view but it hits him differently because he’s the one doing it. He’s got his head resting on your shoulder as he watches, noting how you lean your head back against his own shoulder and breathe through his guided touches.
“Look at yourself.” He turns his head to whisper right against your cheek. “You’d let us all take a turn, hm? Wouldn’t even know which dick is in you.”
Your eyes open in a roll, landing your gaze on the screen and feeling flushed at the image. You don’t care how embarrassing or pathetic you are for this. No, because, look at them. Everyone wants you to act like this.
“Probably wouldn’t even care either, as long as you’re being fucked. Yeah, that’s right.”
Nodding in a daze against him, you roll your hips harder, trying to bump his hand against your pussy, trying to prove to everyone that you have three holes and two hands for a reason.
You don’t flinch when he slides his hands up the leg of your shorts either, pulling them to the side to reveal how wet you are to everyone. Listening to your body and the way it sings to him, brushing his knuckles against the swell of your clit, tapping the space where your hole sits and clenches to be seen.
“Ah, fuck.” Jay finally lets out in a shaky breath, hand clearly still working himself because, well, he was half hard before you made an even appearance on camera. “It looks like she pissed herself–”
Heeseung laughs as he drags his eyes to the image between your legs, so wet, entirely drenched through your nearly see-through panties at this point. Jay is right, it does look like you’ve pissed yourself, which only makes his cock throb more. That you’re so wet for him? So fucking drenched? God, he doesn’t even need lube with you.
You slick up so nice for him, it’s actually becoming painful not to test the stickiness, the slide it offers, the warmth. With this much pouring out of you, like you’ve already squirted, surely you could take all of him.
In an instant he pushes you from his lap, making you feel dizzy and light headed because suddenly you’re on your feet in front of him again. He gives you no time to balance yourself when he’s pulling your shirt up and off of you in a huffed out sigh, holding you in place by your tits to keep you from toppling over and breaking his monitor.
And when you steady out, his hands run straight down, shoving your shorts and panties down in one go before immediately pulling you back to his lap, holding your arms behind you, and spreading his own legs to force yours open for his friends.
“Take a good, long, look.” Heeseung directs towards his friends, sliding his hand in front of you and using two fingers to present your hole to them. “If you think she’s pretty, let her know now.”
It’s the way Heeseung moves his hand from behind you just to set his headset on your head now, quickly pinning your arms in place again and allowing you to listen to his friends do just that.
Immediately, pussy spread and unintentionally clenching in the camera, one of your senses is enveloped with the sound of Jay’s palm shamelessly dragging up and down his hidden cock. Then, the sound of Jake and his deep inhales paired with slight cracked whines, just as shameless, doing much the same.
Then, Sunghoon.
Fucking Sunghoon. Barely moving, but more willing to talk to you with that headset on your head.
“This why you didn’t come over?” He asks you blatantly in a breathy voice, glaring at the fingers of Heeseung holding your cunt open for him. “That could be me right now, but you’re really just going to fuck him? Of all people?”
You groan, lifting your head to give a proud nod and accidentally bumping Heeseung in the chin with the action.
The bump forces him to bite his tongue, a metallic taste of the small amount of blood flooding his mouth mixed with saliva when he dips his head, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your mouth to his.
You can taste the blood too, when he presses his wet tongue past your lips without so much as swallowing the mixture first. Practically drooling and spitting into your mouth through the rough kiss. It feels like your drowning, kissing him back like you’ve always wanted to, tasting him in a new way now and moaning into it.
Like a slut, really. Just fucking moaning. And he only forces more out of you too, as you feel him adjust his hands, holding you here on his lap, rough tongue bleeding against yours, sliding two fingers into you with one push.
God, finally. Fucking, finally.
Your mouth falls open in a sharp inhale of feeling his fingers, his lips turning to a smirk at hearing one of his friends audibly moan at the image on screen for them. You just showed how much of his saliva you were savoring, diluted red in the drool dripping down your chin through your moan.
You’re dirty, all four of them can see that much. But only Heeseung gets to feel it.
His cock throbs at the image when he strains his eyes to the screen, plunging his fingers in, out, in, out, until he pulls them from you entirely, thrusting them into your open mouth instead.
You squeal at the intrusion of his sudden fingers against your tongue, offering a third taste in your mouth. Yourself.
“Mhm,” Heeseung encourages you. “Suck it up like you did for me the other day.”
You hear Jake gasp at the idea that you’ve already done this for Heeseung before, probably leading him to believe that Heeseung has also probably already fucked you.
And hell, with how it’s looking, none of them would be shocked if that were the case.
“You’ve been doing this while talking to us?” Jake tries to confirm with you through a breathed sigh, groaning and unintentionally showing that he…wouldn’t mind.
“God, I don’t even want to fuck you now.” Sunghoon on the other hand, isn’t so willing and lies, absolutely wanting to be the person fucking your lips with his fingers. “After Heeseung? Disgusting.”
Oh, they think he’s fucked you already?
You shoot your eyes open, trying to shake your head in a “no” at them but still suckling around his fingers.
“Goddamn,” Heeseung grunts, rutting up against your back, letting his cock leave leaking little spots of his precum against your lower back. “Your sister would never act like this.”
“You should be ashamed, but you love it.” He continues, talking, talking, talking. Shoving his fingers deeper, deeper, deeper. “Work that tongue like a good girl.” He continues to whisper from behind you before–
You’re gagging. Feeling his fingers reach deep into your throat and press your tongue down to the point you’re forced to open your mouth wide. Exposing not only your finger-fucked pussy to his friends, but now your open and constricting throat.
Sunghoon immediately regrets his insult at you, seeing how wide and open your throat can be. Gagging openly with very little sound as Heeseung compresses your tongue through it.
You’re drooling again, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if you could possibly find a way to drink away your tears.
That’s about as much as Jay can take, gripping the base of his weeping length, willing it to stop threatening him with an orgasm before Heeseung really gets you looking pretty. He chokes up through the mic, and the sound runs straight through your body.
There, he watches you moan through an open and dry mouth, throat muscles tensing just to get the sound out. He grips harder, needing to pull his eyes away but struggling so hard to fucking do.
“Shit, baby. Stop.” Jay calls through the microphone, forcing his friends eyes on him, yours included, as all of you watch him vibrate in his seat in an attempt not to cum. “Stop moaning.”
Heeseung hears him say it, and intentionally gags you again instead. Bumping his fingers at the back of your throat with a smile on his face. Glancing between all of his friends, seeing how pathetic they are for what he does to you.
The fact that they’re sticking around at all? Both great and fucking embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than you.
Then Heeseung focuses back on you, tears running down your pretty cheeks, mouth agape, throat struggling to adjust still to his fingers despite taking his cock like that’s the only shape or size it wanted.
Ah, your body is so pathetically telling, and he grants you the release of another gag by sliding his fingers out of your mouth and straight back to your warm, pulsing, hole.
Right back in, one hole filled at all times it seems, as he feeds into the whiplash he’s able to give you. You didn’t even notice how he shoves you off of his lap until you can no longer see the screen in front of you and are face to face with his keyboard. No frustrated face of Jay, no forced calm and collected expression from Sunghoon, no blatantly bitten lips of Jake.
No, only the feeling of Heeseung chasing your hole with his fingers, your hips running from the touch due to sensitivity and buckled knees. He holds you there against his desk, standing behind you and pressing his cock between your ass cheeks. Fingers roughly rubbing your clit, sliding down to fuck into you, then out again to rub you harder.
His friends watch you try to run your lower half away from him, but his eyes stay glued to the camera, as if he’s staring into the soul of his friends.
“You guys wanna see me fuck her?” He comments in a sly tone, cock grinding against you. “I can fuck her.”
“Ah, Hee–” You groan as a response, listening to the slapping of palms against cocks only grow more furious and finally relaxing your body to now search for his fingers, just to push yourself back on them. “Please.”
He snickers from behind you, grabbing a hand full of hair at the back of your head as he rips his fingers from your needy hole, wiping them along your cheek as he forces you to look at him.
“Again.” He demands, now pinching your cheeks with one hand, arching your back more by the pull of your hair. “Say, “Please, Seungie, fuck me.” He whispers into your mouth, loud enough for the mic to pick up the way you swallow around his words.
“Say, “Please, Hee, give it to me.” He continues, making his voice higher pitched as if to mock your moans.
Sunghoon watches and listens in shock, never once wanting to know that this is how his own friend fucks someone, but goddamn. It’s like he’s just found the video on page 86 of pornhub that hit just right as he watches. Fucking up and into his fist like his life depends on it, waiting, waiting, waiting, for you to moan out just like Heeseung is telling you to.
And it’s the fact that you fucking do, Heeseung watching the way Jake presses his entire body into his chair, staring down at himself with a fast moving palm, so fast that he can see his friend lose himself to the pleasure.
Jay, near tears in his eyes as he watches, probably moaning in your ear like a mad man right now.
You fucking say it.
You say both, moaning in a choked gasp when you feel him stick his tip in you at it.
“Please–” You hiccup as you try to repeat the words again and again for him. “God, yes.” You rasp out in a deeper tone at the feeling of him slide in.
And he keeps sliding in, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes back when he bottoms out and feels your cunt clench him as if you’ll never let it go.
And then, one quick thrust, holding your hair in his hands, arching you harder, his other hand reaching for yours and holding them behind your back, he fucks forward.
Your tits bounce with the movement, neck strained to keep your eye on his face as you try to adjust to the full size of him entering you.
“She just takes it.” Heeseung grunts with a choked breath. “Shit, so goddamn tight.” He murmers again, nearly unable to stand on his own two feet how tight you are.
He forces you to look at him through it, squeezing your hands together so tightly through it that you can barely focus on the pain of your positioned body against the feeling of his cock splitting you open with each hard thrust.
And then, you let out the most filthy, wet, pornographic cry.
Heeseung then brings his attention to his monitor one last time, watching the pathetic mess of people in front of him getting off entirely on his cock driving into you.
“I win.” He says with one pointed thrust, keeping his hips pressed against your ass and only pressing in harder, trying to reach another inch in, trying to break past whatever wall inside of you keeps him from impaling you entirely on him.
All three friends burst into a feeling of realization, Jake already mid orgasm at the sound of that moan you just cried out–
Then theres….nothin but the feeling of Heeseung releasing your hands and allowing you to grip his desk through this deep hold of his length inside of you.
Suddenly, no sound through the headset, the light of the monitor in your peripheral vision goes off, and Heeseung is breaking his demeanor just to moan out in full again.
“Drove them crazy,” He chuckles through a wet groan, now snapping his hips back and leaning forward just to push back into you, deeper, deeper, until his desk ruts against the wall with the tight hold on you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He whispers, holding his open lips right against your neck when he hunches over in this paused thrust.
“You looked so good.” He says again, suddenly praising you, suddenly able to relish in the pleasure he’s giving you rather than pretending it does nothing for him.
You blink away tears, feeling your twisted and turned body, still trying to look at him through this even if he’s released your hands.
He can see that look of realization on your face and smiles at that too before shooting his hands to your middle and forcing you back and against him.
He keeps his dick in you, too obsessed with the drag your walls offer to him, and holds you against him just to shift to the side and press you back on the misplaced couch in the room. Man cave stuff, and alla that.
You watch him guide you face first into the cushions before he is grabbing your hands again, holding them right back in pace behind your back with one hand, and the other pushing your face even further into the pillows.
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” He grunts, slamming into you again, eyes glued to the way your body strains to accommodate the position he wants you in. “How much better you are?”
Oh. Really now?
You smile through suffocated breaths, the fabric of the couch invading the taste of your own breath and forcing you to love it just as much. You bite down, listening to his spilling words.
“Begging me like that for my friends to hear, like you didn’t know I wanted to do this?” He continues, burying himself deep again and holding it there again. “Fucking my pillow instead of me.”
He seems a little more angry now.
“Turning my friends on when you wanted me,” He grabs your hair again, pulling you back into that same painful arch and forcing you to stare up at the wall. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, I would’ve given it to you every time.”
The reality that this is not your boyfriend is so far from you right now. The fact that your sister is working away right now to pay the light bill, gonna come home later and share a bed with this man? You’re not even jealous.
In fact? You’re on top of the world listening to him want you more.
And at this point, Heeseung can tell you’re smiling, looking blankly at the wall and totally lost from this world. This is exactly what he wanted.
Such a pretty little sister, winning him over the bitch that won’t even choke on his cock? It could have been so much easier for you. But this was fun for him, watching you want him and know you couldn’t have him.
Despite him proving that you could have had him any day of the week.
“All you had to do was ask.” He repeats into your ear, now slowing his pace until he pulls out.
He takes a step back, gazing at the way your open pussy still clenches for him, the way your ass shakes slightly with your legs.
“Aww,” He coos, blinking at you from behind and reaching forward to flip you over. “You wanted it so bad too, can’t believe you waited.”
You see him now, fully in person rather than through the image on his monitor. His skin looks so much more full of life, cheeks tinted and hair more fucked up than you’ve ever seen it. Cock huge, weighed against his leg.
You’re shocked you took all of it like that previously, unable to relish in the pain of it because your senses were overloaded with moans and his own boasting.
“Your sister doesn’t have to know.” He says now, eyes trailing your body.
“Ah–” You wince when he licks his fingers and lowers his hand to your clit, one hand spreading your legs out now that he’s got you on your back. “I really didn’t know.”
Heeseung chuckles, finding you entirely too cute and endearing as you look up at him with those fucked out lips trying not to quiver at your sensitivity.
“You were too dumb to take a hint.” He leans forward, now, using his hand to lift your leg up to your chest, rubbing his cock right against your hole as he pulls his other hand up now, propping up your other leg. “Too stubborn to realize.”
You nod in a slightly broken way, unsure of if you were the one putting yourself through torture, or if you really were too dumb to notice he was trying to get you to go insane for him.
He wanted you to jump on him. He wanted you to take it like this.
“And you won’t tell her?” You whisper now, losing the ability to think much more when he grinds himself down, keeping eye contact with you, that same smirk you both hated and loved.
He shakes his head at you, almost sweetly when he adjusts his cock to slide in again, knocking the breath out of you with a choked moan.
“She won’t find out if you can be quiet when she’s home.”
Oh fucking no. He wants to…continue this? This isn’t a one time thing? He’s going to try while she’s home? While she’s gone? Arguably, you’re fucking glad.
“When she’s–?” You try to question, stopping short when he bottoms out in a groan, breathing in through his nose before lending you a tight, short thrust.
“Mm, yeah, I’m gonna be in you every day.” He moans, thinking about the image alone of sneaking into your room while his girlfriend is fast asleep.
Fucking you in his bed. In your bed. On the shared couch. Everywhere. Everyday.
“God, she’d hate us both.” He chuckles through the same moans he can’t stop from spilling out of his throat. “Finding out I’m so deep, so raw like this.”
Fuck. Right.
“Wait–” You come to realization, clenching from panic at the fact that a condom didn’t even come to mind. “Fuck, Hee, wait!”
He only presses harder now, smiling at how you’ve finally managed to come to your senses. Fucking you faster when you try to wiggle your hips away. Fucking you harder, pressing his entire body weight against the back of your thighs just to force you to stay in one place. Pussy open and spread out, clenching his cock so nicely.
“Gonna fuck you full,” He kisses your forehead with the horrifying words. “You’ll do it for me right? She won’t let me.”
Those words ring in your head. If she won’t let him, you sure as fuck will. You can deal with the consequences later. You no longer fight to pretend he’s not ramming your g-spot, forcing your voice to shake through a cry of his name.
“I’m not–” You choke out through cries, feeling your body tense up. “I’m not on birth co-”
“Fuckkkk, yes.” He rolls his eyes back at your half spoken words, losing it at the thought of dripping his seed into you and knowing he’s sterile enough to scare you both for good. “Take it,” He thumps his cock as far into you as he can, willing you to nod your head, willing you to love this as much as he does.
It’s the fact that you’re not trying to wiggle away now, he can feel your hole pulse at hit words, the way you want to be better than your sister, the way you’d truly let him.
Even more the fact that you’re not the one he should be shooting his seed into. It should be your sister, the woman who wants to marry him, the woman who said she simply wasn’t ready to bear his child. Not that you want to either, but goddamn do you want to be fucked full of the possibly, you say it yourself in a harsh grip around his neck, tugging at the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do it.” You whisper through hiccuped moans, his thrusts scooting you up and down on the couch at the sheer force of them.
“Yeah,” He nods his head, pressing harder against your legs as he chases the very high you’re asking him to give to you. “You want it?” He encourages you to keep telling him. He needs you to tell him.
You nod frantically, feeling your body tense up again, trying to reach your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Shockingly, that simply touch of your fingers sends you straight over edge, cumming so hard around his deep thrusts that you can barely hear him praise you through it with drawn out groans of “Ah, you’re squeezing me–” and “Just like that, I’m–”
His voice is clear though, when his hips stutter in place and he’s holding himself still. You can feel the pulse of him releasing into you through the last moments of your orgasm.
“Take it.” He moans. “Take all of it.” He continues, pulling out half way so that his cum drenches every part of your hole.
There, he uses his hand to milk the rest of it out of him, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the sensation of your own orgasm only slick up the inside of you more than he is, and then– he rams back in. Pushing his cum deep. So deep that you moan at the feeling, knowing the mess is dripping down your ass, and being shoved so far against your cervix that– Well. You panic.
Arguably, Heeseung should panic too, but he doesn't as he heaves in a deep and relieved sigh, sliding out of you once and for all.
He just looks at you, a mess on the office couch, pussy pumped full of him, swollen, still pulsing.
“Can I be honest?” He breathes out after running his hands through his sweaty hair, dropping them down with a slap to your now relaxed legs.
At your silence, he continues anyway. “You’ve never looked prettier than right now.”
And, well. You realize that with those words alone, selfish and self absorbed as you relish in them, you decide you don’t care that he’s just fucked you raw without a care in the world that he just cheated on the supposed love of his life. You both have won in this situation, and pregnancy isn’t such a scare anyway when he walks away a mere minute later and comes back with a fucking Plan-B pill.
You’re confused by it at first, popping it into your mouth and looking at him with raised brows.
“Why do you just have these?” You ask, still catching your breath.
“She takes one every time we have sex, even with a condom.” He rolls his eyes.
You smirk, noting how if there’s anything you do better than your sister…It’s fucking her boyfriend.
Sex should've been the most electrifying experience. But for you, no matter how much you indulge, it's always the same—the burning, the discomfort, the frustration of never getting there. So when another couple invites you into their bed, you wonder—Will indulgence finally taste the way it should?
content warnings: bi! jay & jake x pan! reader, explicit content warnings are listed on each chapter, HEAVY smut, everyone is either gay or fruity, threesome (switch jay & jake x sub reader), eventual poly relationship, dubcon scenes, mxm anal sex. don't like? don't read. MDNI!
made by @dulcetnostalgia
CHAPTER 1 – SO BITTER
— Getting invited into bed with two insanely hot guys? A dream come true. Sim Jaeyun is everything you’ve ever fantasized about, soft, sweet, impossible to resist. And his boyfriend? Park Jongseong is the perfect mix of manly, dominant, and dangerously addictive.
So when they invited you to join their bed activities, you can't argue to say no despite of your situation. Who could blame you? They're insanely sexy and they're the ones insisting. They want you there. So why the hell is Jay acting so bitter about it?
TASTE HERE
CHAPTER 2 – OOPS, IT'S SOUR
— The sex was good. So fucking good. But somehow, Jay is making things difficult afterward. His sharp comments, his rough attitude, the way he keeps looking at you like you’re something he regrets. Annoying. Irritating. You need to be careful with the way you talk 'cause— oops, it's sour.
TASTE HERE
CHAPTER 3 – WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?
— This was supposed to be just sex—no feelings, no attachments. What happened in bed was meant to stay there. Jake and Jay were perfect together, an undeniably loving couple who had everything. From the very beginning, you were just a third, nothing more. So why does it feel like you’re the only one left out? Fuck, why are you salty?
TASTE HERE
CHAPTER 4 - SHOW ME SPICY
— Avoidance was your only way to move forward, but Jay and Jake weren’t about to let you slip away so easily. How could you pretend you didn’t want them when your body told a different story? If you wanted to play stubborn, fine. But brats don’t get to run—they get put in their place. And they were more than ready to show you exactly what spicy really meant.
TASTE HERE
CHAPTER 5 - TOO SWEET
— They say three’s a crowd, but for Jay, Jake, and you—it’s starting to feel something closer to home. Love was never meant to be this simple, this natural, but with them, it’s loud in the best ways, a little chaotic, deeply tender, and a little too sweet to ever let go.
Imagine ni-ki having a hyper-fem gf or a super cutesy partner 🎀🥹 i lowkey think he would be the biggest munch. Bad day? Munch. Good news? Munch. Bored? Munch. Nothing but the best for his pretty lady
I totally agree with you. 😩 Ni-ki only wants the best for his girl.
Having a bad day? Ni-ki stands on your doorstep after you tell him you had a bad day with your favorite snacks, with a worried expression on his face. "What happened, baby?" You pout with teary eyes looking at him, and he is instantly hugging you. "It's okay, I am here now. Tell me everything. I want to make it better for you, love.
Bored? You sigh, pouting, playing with your nails. "Ni-ki, I am bored," you yawn before looking at him. His ears perk up. "What do you want to do? Watch a movie? go somewhere?" He asks, sitting up, ready for anything, "I want to go shopping." You look at him. "Get up, let's go." He stands up instantly. "Really?" You look at him surprised. "Really baby, Come on, I will buy you anything you want." You smile, instantly jumping up and hugging him tightly.
Having a good day? "Omg Ni-ki, I got good marks in my paper!" You jump up and down in happiness looking at him, showing him the result. "Yeah, baby, you did so great; I am so proud of you." He hugs you while patting your head affectionately. "Let's go buy you a present for your hard work."
Showing him your nails? "What do you think?" You ask him, wiggling your fingers in front of him. He takes your hand, gently caressing your fingers and observing every small detail. "I love it, baby; it suits you so much," he smiles, nodding while looking at you.
At the end, He only wants the best for you, supporting you in everything that makes you happy because you are his girl and his girl gets everything in this world.
Imagine ni-ki having a hyper-fem gf or a super cutesy partner 🎀🥹 i lowkey think he would be the biggest munch. Bad day? Munch. Good news? Munch. Bored? Munch. Nothing but the best for his pretty lady
I totally agree with you. 😩 Ni-ki only wants the best for his girl.
Having a bad day? Ni-ki stands on your doorstep after you tell him you had a bad day with your favorite snacks, with a worried expression on his face. "What happened, baby?" You pout with teary eyes looking at him, and he is instantly hugging you. "It's okay, I am here now. Tell me everything. I want to make it better for you, love.
Bored? You sigh, pouting, playing with your nails. "Ni-ki, I am bored," you yawn before looking at him. His ears perk up. "What do you want to do? Watch a movie? go somewhere?" He asks, sitting up, ready for anything, "I want to go shopping." You look at him. "Get up, let's go." He stands up instantly. "Really?" You look at him surprised. "Really baby, Come on, I will buy you anything you want." You smile, instantly jumping up and hugging him tightly.
Having a good day? "Omg Ni-ki, I got good marks in my paper!" You jump up and down in happiness looking at him, showing him the result. "Yeah, baby, you did so great; I am so proud of you." He hugs you while patting your head affectionately. "Let's go buy you a present for your hard work."
Showing him your nails? "What do you think?" You ask him, wiggling your fingers in front of him. He takes your hand, gently caressing your fingers and observing every small detail. "I love it, baby; it suits you so much," he smiles, nodding while looking at you.
At the end, He only wants the best for you, supporting you in everything that makes you happy because you are his girl and his girl gets everything in this world.
Pairing: Nerd heeseung x innocent chubby reader/any reader
Warning: unprotected sex(Don't do it), fingering, creampie, grinding, a little mean heeseung, praising, public sex, etc...
Genre: smut, fluff
Summary: nothing just heeseung fucking you in a corner of library.
Note: nowadays I feel like being active here I don't why😈. I just hope you enjoy reading this. If any mistakes, forgive me🖤.
You gasp when your back hits the wall with a thud. "You like teasing me, don't you? Wearing this cute little dress for me, hmm?" He was close, too close, whispering in your ear while nudging your cheek with his nose. "I was not teas—" you were cut short when he kissed your neck, making you gasp. "Liar," he chuckles before bunching your dress up around your waist.
He starts to circle your clothed clit with his digits, but you stop him, grabbing his arm, his fingers still hovering over your clit. "W-we are in the library, h-hee," you whisper, embarrassed. "And?" He removes your hand, smirking before starting again. "In reality, baby, you like it, like the challenge, don't you?" He hums, not waiting for your response, he slides your panties to the side before playing with your bare clit. You gasp loudly at the feeling, "H-hee." Your hips buck up at the friction. He just chuckles, seeing you like this.
After circling your clit and making you relax at his touch, he inserts his index finger, pumping it in and out. You gasp, biting your lips, looking at him dazed. "Shit, baby, you are so wet," he groans. He adds his middle finger too, curling it just right, hitting your spot with every thrust. You try not to moan, but a small whimper escapes you, which is halfway inhaled by him, kissing you finally. He kisses you desperately, exploring your mouth with his tongue while still pumping his fingers in and out of you.
"Hee, I am near—" you whisper, hips bucking up, grinding on his fingers. "Come for me, baby," he groans when you clench his digits. He speeds up his fingers while kissing your neck, leaving marks on your collarbone. You cover your mouth with your palm, moaning into it before coming on his fingers, soaking them wet. "Shit, baby, look at the mess you made," he hums, removing his fingers and licking them clean, groaning at the taste, "always so sweet for me."
"Want to be inside of you now, I can't wait anymore," he whines out desperately while removing his pants just enough for his length to spring out. You nod, biting your lips, looking down at him, blushing a little. He chuckles, looking at your rosy cheeks. "My innocent girl," he hums before roaming his hands to your ass and moving down to the back of your thigh, gently massaging your fat there before hiking up your leg against his waist.
"Will fuck you so deep you will only remember me." He grinds his bare length against your wet folds, you gasp when he rubs his length against your clit. "Hee please" you whine, wanting him in "You want me to fuck you here? Between this many people? "That's so naughty, baby," he tsks teasingly, still grinding his length against you. You clench on nothing, more of your essence easing out onto his length. "Y-yes, hee," you whisper, holding his shoulder for support. "Such a slut for me," he pushes his specs up on his nose before sliding inside you in a single thrust, filling you fully. You moan loudly against your hand, eyes rolling back in your head, feeling him so deep.
"Look at you, falling apart on my dick, where anybody can see us, see you," he groans when you clench. "You will like that? Won't you? Somebody walking in and seeing you like this?" you moan, nodding against your hand, not even thinking about anything other than how good he feels. He tsks, slamming his hips against you, grinding his length against your walls, not caring about the noise now. "You look so beautiful right now," he moans, seeing your face full of pleasure, encouraging him to move harder, hitting your spot again and again, making you see stars behind your eyes.
You don't care now, your moans getting high-pitched against your hand. "H-hee, I am near, please." You cry out, holding him, trying to match his thrusts. "Go on, baby, come for me." He uses his one hand to circle your clit, and the other is still holding your leg. He groans when you clench hard, "fuck." You shudder hard, releasing on his length, moaning against your palm. Seeing you like this, all ruined, with one final thrust, he releases, spilling deep inside you.
You both still stand there panting deeply before he puts your leg down and removes himself, dressing you both up.He looks at you. "You did so good," he hums, pecking your lips, and you smile at him. "Meet me at my house tonight?" he asks innocently, pushing his specs up his nose again.
Pairing: Nerd heeseung x innocent chubby reader/any reader
Warning: unprotected sex(Don't do it), fingering, creampie, grinding, a little mean heeseung, praising, public sex, etc...
Genre: smut, fluff
Summary: nothing just heeseung fucking you in a corner of library.
Note: nowadays I feel like being active here I don't why😈. I just hope you enjoy reading this. If any mistakes, forgive me🖤.
You gasp when your back hits the wall with a thud. "You like teasing me, don't you? Wearing this cute little dress for me, hmm?" He was close, too close, whispering in your ear while nudging your cheek with his nose. "I was not teas—" you were cut short when he kissed your neck, making you gasp. "Liar," he chuckles before bunching your dress up around your waist.
He starts to circle your clothed clit with his digits, but you stop him, grabbing his arm, his fingers still hovering over your clit. "W-we are in the library, h-hee," you whisper, embarrassed. "And?" He removes your hand, smirking before starting again. "In reality, baby, you like it, like the challenge, don't you?" He hums, not waiting for your response, he slides your panties to the side before playing with your bare clit. You gasp loudly at the feeling, "H-hee." Your hips buck up at the friction. He just chuckles, seeing you like this.
After circling your clit and making you relax at his touch, he inserts his index finger, pumping it in and out. You gasp, biting your lips, looking at him dazed. "Shit, baby, you are so wet," he groans. He adds his middle finger too, curling it just right, hitting your spot with every thrust. You try not to moan, but a small whimper escapes you, which is halfway inhaled by him, kissing you finally. He kisses you desperately, exploring your mouth with his tongue while still pumping his fingers in and out of you.
"Hee, I am near—" you whisper, hips bucking up, grinding on his fingers. "Come for me, baby," he groans when you clench his digits. He speeds up his fingers while kissing your neck, leaving marks on your collarbone. You cover your mouth with your palm, moaning into it before coming on his fingers, soaking them wet. "Shit, baby, look at the mess you made," he hums, removing his fingers and licking them clean, groaning at the taste, "always so sweet for me."
"Want to be inside of you now, I can't wait anymore," he whines out desperately while removing his pants just enough for his length to spring out. You nod, biting your lips, looking down at him, blushing a little. He chuckles, looking at your rosy cheeks. "My innocent girl," he hums before roaming his hands to your ass and moving down to the back of your thigh, gently massaging your fat there before hiking up your leg against his waist.
"Will fuck you so deep you will only remember me." He grinds his bare length against your wet folds, you gasp when he rubs his length against your clit. "Hee please" you whine, wanting him in "You want me to fuck you here? Between this many people? "That's so naughty, baby," he tsks teasingly, still grinding his length against you. You clench on nothing, more of your essence easing out onto his length. "Y-yes, hee," you whisper, holding his shoulder for support. "Such a slut for me," he pushes his specs up on his nose before sliding inside you in a single thrust, filling you fully. You moan loudly against your hand, eyes rolling back in your head, feeling him so deep.
"Look at you, falling apart on my dick, where anybody can see us, see you," he groans when you clench. "You will like that? Won't you? Somebody walking in and seeing you like this?" you moan, nodding against your hand, not even thinking about anything other than how good he feels. He tsks, slamming his hips against you, grinding his length against your walls, not caring about the noise now. "You look so beautiful right now," he moans, seeing your face full of pleasure, encouraging him to move harder, hitting your spot again and again, making you see stars behind your eyes.
You don't care now, your moans getting high-pitched against your hand. "H-hee, I am near, please." You cry out, holding him, trying to match his thrusts. "Go on, baby, come for me." He uses his one hand to circle your clit, and the other is still holding your leg. He groans when you clench hard, "fuck." You shudder hard, releasing on his length, moaning against your palm. Seeing you like this, all ruined, with one final thrust, he releases, spilling deep inside you.
You both still stand there panting deeply before he puts your leg down and removes himself, dressing you both up.He looks at you. "You did so good," he hums, pecking your lips, and you smile at him. "Meet me at my house tonight?" he asks innocently, pushing his specs up his nose again.
Pairing: Nerd heeseung x innocent chubby reader/any reader
Warning: unprotected sex(Don't do it), fingering, creampie, grinding, a little mean heeseung, praising, public sex, etc...
Genre: smut, fluff
Summary: nothing just heeseung fucking you in the corner of a library.
Note: nowadays I feel like being active here I don't why😈. I just hope you enjoy reading this. If any mistakes, forgive me🖤.
You gasp when your back hits the wall with a thud. "You like teasing me, don't you? Wearing this cute little dress for me, hmm?" He was close, too close, whispering in your ear while nudging your cheek with his nose. "I was not teas—" you were cut short when he kissed your neck, making you gasp. "Liar," he chuckles before bunching your dress up around your waist.
He starts to circle your clothed clit with his digits, but you stop him, grabbing his arm, his fingers still hovering over your clit. "W-we are in the library, h-hee," you whisper, embarrassed. "And?" He removes your hand, smirking before starting again. "In reality, baby, you like it, like the challenge, don't you?" He hums, not waiting for your response, he slides your panties to the side before playing with your bare clit. You gasp loudly at the feeling, "H-hee." Your hips buck up at the friction. He just chuckles, seeing you like this.
After circling your clit and making you relax at his touch, he inserts his index finger, pumping it in and out. You gasp, biting your lips, looking at him dazed. "Shit, baby, you are so wet," he groans. He adds his middle finger too, curling it just right, hitting your spot with every thrust. You try not to moan, but a small whimper escapes you, which is halfway inhaled by him, kissing you finally. He kisses you desperately, exploring your mouth with his tongue while still pumping his fingers in and out of you.
"Hee, I am near—" you whisper, hips bucking up, grinding on his fingers. "Come for me, baby," he groans when you clench his digits. He speeds up his fingers while kissing your neck, leaving marks on your collarbone. You cover your mouth with your palm, moaning into it before coming on his fingers, soaking them wet. "Shit, baby, look at the mess you made," he hums, removing his fingers and licking them clean, groaning at the taste, "always so sweet for me."
"Want to be inside of you now, I can't wait anymore," he whines out desperately while removing his pants just enough for his length to spring out. You nod, biting your lips, looking down at him, blushing a little. He chuckles, looking at your rosy cheeks. "My innocent girl," he hums before roaming his hands to your ass and moving down to the back of your thigh, gently massaging your fat there before hiking up your leg against his waist.
"Will fuck you so deep you will only remember me." He grinds his bare length against your wet folds, you gasp when he rubs his length against your clit. "Hee please" you whine, wanting him in "You want me to fuck you here? Between this many people? "That's so naughty, baby," he tsks teasingly, still grinding his length against you. You clench on nothing, more of your essence easing out onto his length. "Y-yes, hee," you whisper, holding his shoulder for support. "Such a slut for me," he pushes his specs up on his nose before sliding inside you in a single thrust, filling you fully. You moan loudly against your hand, eyes rolling back in your head, feeling him so deep.
"Look at you, falling apart on my dick, where anybody can see us, see you," he groans when you clench. "You will like that? Won't you? Somebody walking in and seeing you like this?" you moan, nodding against your hand, not even thinking about anything other than how good he feels. He tsks, slamming his hips against you, grinding his length against your walls, not caring about the noise now. "You look so beautiful right now," he moans, seeing your face full of pleasure, encouraging him to move harder, hitting your spot again and again, making you see stars behind your eyes.
You don't care now, your moans getting high-pitched against your hand. "H-hee, I am near, please." You cry out, holding him, trying to match his thrusts. "Go on, baby, come for me." He uses his one hand to circle your clit, and the other is still holding your leg. He groans when you clench hard, "fuck." You shudder hard, releasing on his length, moaning against your palm. Seeing you like this, all ruined, with one final thrust, he releases, spilling deep inside you.
You both still stand there panting deeply before he puts your leg down and removes himself, dressing you both up.He looks at you. "You did so good," he hums, pecking your lips, and you smile at him. "Meet me at my house tonight?" he asks innocently, pushing his specs up his nose again.
Warning: unprotected sex(don't do it), coming on stomach, etc..
Genre: smut
Summary: jake begs you to let him in raw.
Note: wanted to try something new. Hope you enjoy!
"Please, baby, for this once," he begs, looking down at you while sitting between your legs. "Jake, but what if an accident happens? Then what?" You look at him with worried eyes. "It won't happen, I promise. I will pull out in time," he pouts, looking at you, and your heart clenches at the sight. "Alright, just don't forget to pull out," you say, sighing. "I promise," he grins before bending down and kissing you.
"Alright, ready?" He lines his length against your entrance. "Yeah, but don't forget to pu-fuck!" Your sentence was cut short by him pushing his raw length inside you in one deep thrust. "Shit, baby, so tight," he groans, pulling out before filling you again in one thrust. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him going in without any cover for the first time. You feel every other vein while he drags his length in and out. "J-jakee," you moan out, "yes, baby? Feels good, right?" He asks while speeding up. He starts to slam his hips against you, making you claw at his back. He hisses at the sensation of your nails against his skin.
You feel him hitting your spongy spot again and again, making your stomach feel tight with every deep thrust. "J-Jake, I am gonna—" you feel tears at the brim of your eyes. "God, baby, come for me," he whines at your tone of full desperation. He moves his hand down, circling your clit with enough pressure, making you cry out. After a few more thrusts, you release, shuddering and moaning his name repeatedly, and before you know it, Jake is coming on your stomach, groaning your name.
"It was one of the best feelings I have ever felt, baby," he chuckles, looking at you tenderly. You nod in response, looking at him while smiling, "One more round, then?" He asks, smirking while caressing your cheek.
Warning: unprotected sex(don't do it), coming on stomach, etc..
Genre: smut
Summary: jake begs you to let him in raw.
Note: wanted to try something new. Hope you enjoy!
"Please, baby, for this once," he begs, looking down at you while sitting between your legs. "Jake, but what if an accident happens? Then what?" You look at him with worried eyes. "It won't happen, I promise. I will pull out in time," he pouts, looking at you, and your heart clenches at the sight. "Alright, just don't forget to pull out," you say, sighing. "I promise," he grins before bending down and kissing you.
"Alright, ready?" He lines his length against your entrance. "Yeah, but don't forget to pu-fuck!" Your sentence was cut short by him pushing his raw length inside you in one deep thrust. "Shit, baby, so tight," he groans, pulling out before filling you again in one thrust. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him going in without any cover for the first time. You feel every other vein while he drags his length in and out. "J-jakee," you moan out, "yes, baby? Feels good, right?" He asks while speeding up. He starts to slam his hips against you, making you claw at his back. He hisses at the sensation of your nails against his skin.
You feel him hitting your spongy spot again and again, making your stomach feel tight with every deep thrust. "J-Jake, I am gonna—" you feel tears at the brim of your eyes. "God, baby, come for me," he whines at your tone of full desperation. He moves his hand down, circling your clit with enough pressure, making you cry out. After a few more thrusts, you release, shuddering and moaning his name repeatedly, and before you know it, Jake is coming on your stomach, groaning your name.
"It was one of the best feelings I have ever felt, baby," he chuckles, looking at you tenderly. You nod in response, looking at him while smiling, "One more round, then?" He asks, smirking while caressing your cheek.
Paring: Sunghoon x chubby reader/anyone can read this.
Rating: 18+
Genre: smut, fluff
Warnings‼️: fingering, cheating, nipple play, nipple sucking, humping, unprotected sex (don't do it guys), creampie, lots of kissing, hair pulling, sunghoon being desperate, pet names, soft sunghoon but a little mean, aftercare etc..
Summary: you don't want to do it, not when you are in a relationship, not when you are laying beside your boyfriend but you can't help it but think about your boyfriend's friend so you let it all go and knock on his door for more...
Note: hey guys, I am back after a while. I hope you remember me😭 anyways i have gotten myself into enhypen for more than two years now so i finally thought writing for them too. Hope you like it and I am so sorry for not being active but i write as a hobby and i don't want it to turn into a work of pressure. Hope you understand and enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. I will try to be more active and please if you have any requests feel free to ask💜 (SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMATICAL MISTAKE OR SPELLING MISTAKE)
You were at your boyfriend's best friend's wedding party, standing with your boyfriend at a corner, your boyfriend talking to someone you don't know, and you zone out looking into space. When you feel a touch on your lower back, almost feather-like, making you turn a bit, you see no one but Sunghoon, your boyfriend's other closest friend, locking eyes with him before looking back in front, noticing your boyfriend still immersed in his conversation, making you sigh in relief.
You excuse yourself for a drink before going to the bar and ordering a drink. "Drinking without me?" You hear Sunghoon's voice from beside you, making you look at him. "He is just there, Hoon," you whisper just enough for him to hear. "And?" The bartender comes back with your drink. You hold the glass, but before you can carry it to your lips, you feel him wrap his hand around yours on the glass, and you gasp at his warm grasp. "Don't," you try to warn him. "Too late, in too deep," he whispers, caressing your fingers softly before removing his hand, making you miss his touch. You sip your drink before looking at him, locking your eyes with him. "Want you so much it hurts," he whispers, your breath hitched. "Hoon—" you try to say. "I know, I know. Just come to my room later... please," he says desperately before leaving your side, and you sigh before drinking your drink in one go and going back to your boyfriend.
Later you were in your hotel room, lying down beside your boyfriend, his body turned away from you. You look at his back before sighing, trying to sleep, trying not to go to Sunghoon's room, knowing it's wrong, that it's bad to even think about him while lying beside your boyfriend, but you couldn't help it, not when you feel your thighs clench together to create some friction on your aching clit. You bite your lip, closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but you can't help thinking about his slender fingers enclosing your hand back at the party, how it would feel in you, and how it had already felt so good when he was knuckle-deep in you yesterday, making you slightly gasp thinking about it. "Fuck it," you whisper to yourself before sitting up and looking back at your boyfriend sleeping. You stand up quietly, leaving his room, before standing outside Sunghoon's room, knocking softly, and not even a second later, he opens.
"I knew you would come back; you always come back," he grins before pulling you in, locking the door, and pinning you to the door. "Took you long enough, sweetheart." He kisses your cheek before looking at you, slowly inching closer to your face. "Been waiting," he whispers, making you hum. "Let me taste you, please." You nod softly before he is on you, kissing you desperately and humming while claiming your lips. You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling him closer before you feel him entering your mouth with his tongue exploring every inch. He pulls away slightly, caressing your cheek. "Can't get enough of kissing you," he whispers before diving back in, kissing you passionately.
He carries you to his bed, dropping you softly on the mattress before hovering above you, nudging your jaw with his nose. "You drive me crazy," he softly says, making you whine, "Hoon, please—" He hums before pulling back, sitting on his knees. "Can I?" He pulls on your t-shirt making you nod, he smirks slightly before removing it and looking at you with lustful but adorning eyes "shit sweetheart so beautiful, so pretty just for me" he says kissing down on your neck softly sucking on your collarbone "n-no marks hoon" you whisper not wanting to raisk it "i know baby" he leaves your collarbone with a pop before leaving open mouth kisses all over your neck gently moving down to your chest kissing your upper right breast "fuck-" he whispers to himself before taking your breasts in his hand gently folding them "so heavy" he tsks before he gently swipes on your perked nipples making you gasp loudly "hoon-" you chock out "shh let me have my time" he takes your right nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking your nipple making you whine to which he just groans sucking on your nipples more.
He moves down before spreading your legs wide for him. "Shit, look at you, baby, you are soaked." He rubs your clothed clit; you flinch a little at his touch, moaning softly. "Need you so bad, hoon," you say, desperately looking at him. He groans, "You have no idea how much you sound so beautiful, baby." He removes your wet panties, throwing them aside. "Fuck, sweetheart," he parts your glistening folds, circling your clit before removing his fingers and tasting them. He hums, "Always so sweet." You moan, seeing him tasting your arousal.
He swipes his finger on your clit before moving down to your slit, gently circling it, which makes you buck your hips, making him chuckle. "So needy," you whine at his comment. He inserts his middle finger, groaning from the wetness. "What got you so worked up, baby?" he tsks before inserting his index finger, pumping it in and out. You moan loudly, feeling his fingers in you. He speeds up, curling his finger and hitting that spongy spot, making you see stars just from his fingers. "Hoon," you moan. "Yes, baby, just like that, take it." He moves in, knuckled deep, hitting that spot again and again, making you clench on his fingers. "I—I am going to—" You shudder, feeling your knot tighten every time his fingers hit that spot. He hums before rubbing your clit with his thumb while still pumping his fingers in. "Yeah? Gonna cum? Then cum for me, sweetheart; soak my hands in your release," he groans, looking at you.
You let go shuddering, moaning loudly while his fingers didn't stop making it last longer. "Hoon, too much—" you whimper when he takes his soaked fingers out, tasting them again. "So sweet," he whispers. "I want you now, baby; I can't wait anymore." He almost whines before he stands up and removes his pants and t-shirt, and you groan at his naked form, taking in how big he is. He hovers above you in one swift "I can't wait no more, baby. Let me in, please...can I?" He pumps his cock, which is already leaking precum, making you nod desperately. He pulls your legs apart before bending them to your chest. "First you have to feel me, sweetheart." He looks at you, caressing your thighs, and when you nod, he takes his big cock, tapping it on your clit. You moan at it before he drags his cock on your wet folds slowly. "Fuck, you are so wet, sweetheart," he groans before applying more pressure while dragging his cock from your slit to your clit. "Shit, baby, so wet for me." You whine out, "Only for you," gasping at the feeling. He groans out in response, "For me, always for me."
Wet sounds fill the room, making your mind go into a daze. "Look at you," he hums before nudging your clit with his cock. "Dripping for me. Bet you couldn't sleep thinking about me, about my cock." You nod and moan in response. He groans, dragging his cock with enough pressure that you shudder in response. "Near, hoon, please," you say, gasping. "Yeah, baby? Gonna cum like this, so sensitive, so mine, fuck," he moans, humping faster now. "Cum for me, baby, please—" He chokes out, and you didn't have to be told twice before you came hard, shuddering hard while moaning his name. "Fuck, look at you, made a mess," he says. One last time, he drags his cock through folds, making you try to close your legs around him due to sensitivity. "No, no, sweetheart, not done yet," he whispers before bending down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss before moving back up.
"Want me in, baby?" He asks looking at you while caressing your thigh "yes hoon please" you whine out nodding, he smirks "love you whinny, all for me" he turns you on your stomach pulling you on all fours "shit baby, so pretty like this" he kisses you spine before massaging your ass and pulling it apart "nice and wet" he speaks to himself before lining himself "gonna fuck deep, you gonna feel me for days" you moan loudly "want you hoon" you look back at him "i know baby" he smiles before inserting just the tip making you both moan "fuck-" he pants before pushing his cock fully through your tight walls "sweetheart-" he moans before pulling all the way out and inserting all in once making you moan loudly holding sheets for support.
He starts to drag his cock against your walls in a perfect rhythm. "Look at you," he groans, "taking another man's cock while your boyfriend sleeps in the next room." You moan loudly at his words, chasing his movements, pushing yourself into him. "Hoon—" you choke out, feeling his cock hit all the right places. "I bet he doesn't make you cum like I do, right, baby?" He groans, holding onto your hips while pushing his cock in you faster now. "Tell me, sweetheart, does he make you feel like I do?" When you don't respond, he slaps your ass before massaging the spot, still pistoning into you. "Fuck—no, hoon, only you," you cry out, holding onto the sheets, face into the pillow to stop moaning too loud. "I knew it, baby; I can only make you feel like this," he groans while snapping his hips against you.
Loud noises fill the room, skin slapping against each other. "You feel so good, y/n," you whine out in response. He pulls you up against him by your hair, holding your waist just right before slowly dragging his cock in you, hitting deep. Just right, you lean back onto him, moaning, "Hoon, I can't—" You choke out, "You can, baby. I know you can." He whispers before sucking on your neck, leaving marks while pumping in and out of you. "So perfect for me," he whispers, making you turn your head and kiss him. He moans into the kiss, stopping his movements before turning you around on your back and putting your legs around him. "Want to see you while you break apart under me, sweetheart?" He kisses your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth before snapping his cock into you. You feel on cloud nine when he hits your spongy spot, making you cry out, "You like that, baby?" You nod, holding onto him. He feels you clenching around him, and he groans, "Gonna cum, sweetheart?" He pants out, his cock moving in and out of you. "Yes, hoon, can I? Please—" you choke out to he just hums before pulling back roaming his hands down your love handles and circling your clit, you clench hard around him "fuck sweetheart, it's sucking me in" he whimpers, before you know it you coming hard around him shuddering making a mess on him and the sheets "so good for me, making a mess on me" he moans fucking you through your release making you whimper "hoon too much-" he nods groaning "little more baby, I am there" you moan holding his hands "where- tell me sweetheart I can't-" he moans loudly nearing "i-in me hoon please" he nods groaning "fuck-" he curses loudly before stopping, spilling his cum deep in you moaning into your neck "fuck baby, you are just so perfect, taking me well every time, can't get enough of you" he looks at you before kissing you passionately holding your chin.
He moves away, taking his cock out, seeing his cum spill out of you. "Shit, baby, so damn hot," he grins before looking at you. "You are okay, right? Let me clean you up." He stands up before coming back with a wet cloth and cleans you up. He lies down beside you, pulling you to him and the sheets on both of you. "You liked it?" You hum, cuddling into him. "Very much, hoon," you smile tiredly. He turns to you, caressing your cheek. "Leave him, Y/N." You look at him, seeing the seriousness in his voice. "Leave him; be with me." He nudges his nose against you. "Please, I want you near me all the time," he whispers. You close your eyes at his touch before looking at him again. "I want to be with you too, Hoon. I will leave him for you," you whisper, pecking his lips. "Fuck yes." He kisses you hard, holding your neck before leaving you breathless. "You are always going to be mine, even if it means having you like this. I can work with it, but I know you will be back every time, every night.
THE END~~
It will be great if you can repost this post or leave a comment!
Paring: Sunghoon x chubby reader/anyone can read this.
Rating: 18+
Genre: smut, fluff
Warnings‼️: fingering, cheating, nipple play, nipple sucking, humping, unprotected sex (don't do it guys), creampie, lots of kissing, hair pulling, sunghoon being desperate, pet names, soft sunghoon but a little mean, aftercare etc..
Summary: you don't want to do it, not when you are in a relationship, not when you are laying beside your boyfriend but you can't help it but think about your boyfriend's friend so you let it all go and knock on his door for more...
Note: hey guys, I am back after a while. I hope you remember me😭 anyways i have gotten myself into enhypen for more than two years now so i finally thought writing for them too. Hope you like it and I am so sorry for not being active but i write as a hobby and i don't want it to turn into a work of pressure. Hope you understand and enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. I will try to be more active and please if you have any requests feel free to ask💜 (SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMATICAL MISTAKE OR SPELLING MISTAKE)
You were at your boyfriend's best friend's wedding party, standing with your boyfriend at a corner, your boyfriend talking to someone you don't know, and you zone out looking into space. When you feel a touch on your lower back, almost feather-like, making you turn a bit, you see no one but Sunghoon, your boyfriend's other closest friend, locking eyes with him before looking back in front, noticing your boyfriend still immersed in his conversation, making you sigh in relief.
You excuse yourself for a drink before going to the bar and ordering a drink. "Drinking without me?" You hear Sunghoon's voice from beside you, making you look at him. "He is just there, Hoon," you whisper just enough for him to hear. "And?" The bartender comes back with your drink. You hold the glass, but before you can carry it to your lips, you feel him wrap his hand around yours on the glass, and you gasp at his warm grasp. "Don't," you try to warn him. "Too late, in too deep," he whispers, caressing your fingers softly before removing his hand, making you miss his touch. You sip your drink before looking at him, locking your eyes with him. "Want you so much it hurts," he whispers, your breath hitched. "Hoon—" you try to say. "I know, I know. Just come to my room later... please," he says desperately before leaving your side, and you sigh before drinking your drink in one go and going back to your boyfriend.
Later you were in your hotel room, lying down beside your boyfriend, his body turned away from you. You look at his back before sighing, trying to sleep, trying not to go to Sunghoon's room, knowing it's wrong, that it's bad to even think about him while lying beside your boyfriend, but you couldn't help it, not when you feel your thighs clench together to create some friction on your aching clit. You bite your lip, closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but you can't help thinking about his slender fingers enclosing your hand back at the party, how it would feel in you, and how it had already felt so good when he was knuckle-deep in you yesterday, making you slightly gasp thinking about it. "Fuck it," you whisper to yourself before sitting up and looking back at your boyfriend sleeping. You stand up quietly, leaving his room, before standing outside Sunghoon's room, knocking softly, and not even a second later, he opens.
"I knew you would come back; you always come back," he grins before pulling you in, locking the door, and pinning you to the door. "Took you long enough, sweetheart." He kisses your cheek before looking at you, slowly inching closer to your face. "Been waiting," he whispers, making you hum. "Let me taste you, please." You nod softly before he is on you, kissing you desperately and humming while claiming your lips. You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling him closer before you feel him entering your mouth with his tongue exploring every inch. He pulls away slightly, caressing your cheek. "Can't get enough of kissing you," he whispers before diving back in, kissing you passionately.
He carries you to his bed, dropping you softly on the mattress before hovering above you, nudging your jaw with his nose. "You drive me crazy," he softly says, making you whine, "Hoon, please—" He hums before pulling back, sitting on his knees. "Can I?" He pulls on your t-shirt making you nod, he smirks slightly before removing it and looking at you with lustful but adorning eyes "shit sweetheart so beautiful, so pretty just for me" he says kissing down on your neck softly sucking on your collarbone "n-no marks hoon" you whisper not wanting to raisk it "i know baby" he leaves your collarbone with a pop before leaving open mouth kisses all over your neck gently moving down to your chest kissing your upper right breast "fuck-" he whispers to himself before taking your breasts in his hand gently folding them "so heavy" he tsks before he gently swipes on your perked nipples making you gasp loudly "hoon-" you chock out "shh let me have my time" he takes your right nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking your nipple making you whine to which he just groans sucking on your nipples more.
He moves down before spreading your legs wide for him. "Shit, look at you, baby, you are soaked." He rubs your clothed clit; you flinch a little at his touch, moaning softly. "Need you so bad, hoon," you say, desperately looking at him. He groans, "You have no idea how much you sound so beautiful, baby." He removes your wet panties, throwing them aside. "Fuck, sweetheart," he parts your glistening folds, circling your clit before removing his fingers and tasting them. He hums, "Always so sweet." You moan, seeing him tasting your arousal.
He swipes his finger on your clit before moving down to your slit, gently circling it, which makes you buck your hips, making him chuckle. "So needy," you whine at his comment. He inserts his middle finger, groaning from the wetness. "What got you so worked up, baby?" he tsks before inserting his index finger, pumping it in and out. You moan loudly, feeling his fingers in you. He speeds up, curling his finger and hitting that spongy spot, making you see stars just from his fingers. "Hoon," you moan. "Yes, baby, just like that, take it." He moves in, knuckled deep, hitting that spot again and again, making you clench on his fingers. "I—I am going to—" You shudder, feeling your knot tighten every time his fingers hit that spot. He hums before rubbing your clit with his thumb while still pumping his fingers in. "Yeah? Gonna cum? Then cum for me, sweetheart; soak my hands in your release," he groans, looking at you.
You let go shuddering, moaning loudly while his fingers didn't stop making it last longer. "Hoon, too much—" you whimper when he takes his soaked fingers out, tasting them again. "So sweet," he whispers. "I want you now, baby; I can't wait anymore." He almost whines before he stands up and removes his pants and t-shirt, and you groan at his naked form, taking in how big he is. He hovers above you in one swift "I can't wait no more, baby. Let me in, please...can I?" He pumps his cock, which is already leaking precum, making you nod desperately. He pulls your legs apart before bending them to your chest. "First you have to feel me, sweetheart." He looks at you, caressing your thighs, and when you nod, he takes his big cock, tapping it on your clit. You moan at it before he drags his cock on your wet folds slowly. "Fuck, you are so wet, sweetheart," he groans before applying more pressure while dragging his cock from your slit to your clit. "Shit, baby, so wet for me." You whine out, "Only for you," gasping at the feeling. He groans out in response, "For me, always for me."
Wet sounds fill the room, making your mind go into a daze. "Look at you," he hums before nudging your clit with his cock. "Dripping for me. Bet you couldn't sleep thinking about me, about my cock." You nod and moan in response. He groans, dragging his cock with enough pressure that you shudder in response. "Near, hoon, please," you say, gasping. "Yeah, baby? Gonna cum like this, so sensitive, so mine, fuck," he moans, humping faster now. "Cum for me, baby, please—" He chokes out, and you didn't have to be told twice before you came hard, shuddering hard while moaning his name. "Fuck, look at you, made a mess," he says. One last time, he drags his cock through folds, making you try to close your legs around him due to sensitivity. "No, no, sweetheart, not done yet," he whispers before bending down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss before moving back up.
"Want me in, baby?" He asks looking at you while caressing your thigh "yes hoon please" you whine out nodding, he smirks "love you whinny, all for me" he turns you on your stomach pulling you on all fours "shit baby, so pretty like this" he kisses you spine before massaging your ass and pulling it apart "nice and wet" he speaks to himself before lining himself "gonna fuck deep, you gonna feel me for days" you moan loudly "want you hoon" you look back at him "i know baby" he smiles before inserting just the tip making you both moan "fuck-" he pants before pushing his cock fully through your tight walls "sweetheart-" he moans before pulling all the way out and inserting all in once making you moan loudly holding sheets for support.
He starts to drag his cock against your walls in a perfect rhythm. "Look at you," he groans, "taking another man's cock while your boyfriend sleeps in the next room." You moan loudly at his words, chasing his movements, pushing yourself into him. "Hoon—" you choke out, feeling his cock hit all the right places. "I bet he doesn't make you cum like I do, right, baby?" He groans, holding onto your hips while pushing his cock in you faster now. "Tell me, sweetheart, does he make you feel like I do?" When you don't respond, he slaps your ass before massaging the spot, still pistoning into you. "Fuck—no, hoon, only you," you cry out, holding onto the sheets, face into the pillow to stop moaning too loud. "I knew it, baby; I can only make you feel like this," he groans while snapping his hips against you.
Loud noises fill the room, skin slapping against each other. "You feel so good, y/n," you whine out in response. He pulls you up against him by your hair, holding your waist just right before slowly dragging his cock in you, hitting deep. Just right, you lean back onto him, moaning, "Hoon, I can't—" You choke out, "You can, baby. I know you can." He whispers before sucking on your neck, leaving marks while pumping in and out of you. "So perfect for me," he whispers, making you turn your head and kiss him. He moans into the kiss, stopping his movements before turning you around on your back and putting your legs around him. "Want to see you while you break apart under me, sweetheart?" He kisses your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth before snapping his cock into you. You feel on cloud nine when he hits your spongy spot, making you cry out, "You like that, baby?" You nod, holding onto him. He feels you clenching around him, and he groans, "Gonna cum, sweetheart?" He pants out, his cock moving in and out of you. "Yes, hoon, can I? Please—" you choke out to he just hums before pulling back roaming his hands down your love handles and circling your clit, you clench hard around him "fuck sweetheart, it's sucking me in" he whimpers, before you know it you coming hard around him shuddering making a mess on him and the sheets "so good for me, making a mess on me" he moans fucking you through your release making you whimper "hoon too much-" he nods groaning "little more baby, I am there" you moan holding his hands "where- tell me sweetheart I can't-" he moans loudly nearing "i-in me hoon please" he nods groaning "fuck-" he curses loudly before stopping, spilling his cum deep in you moaning into your neck "fuck baby, you are just so perfect, taking me well every time, can't get enough of you" he looks at you before kissing you passionately holding your chin.
He moves away, taking his cock out, seeing his cum spill out of you. "Shit, baby, so damn hot," he grins before looking at you. "You are okay, right? Let me clean you up." He stands up before coming back with a wet cloth and cleans you up. He lies down beside you, pulling you to him and the sheets on both of you. "You liked it?" You hum, cuddling into him. "Very much, hoon," you smile tiredly. He turns to you, caressing your cheek. "Leave him, Y/N." You look at him, seeing the seriousness in his voice. "Leave him; be with me." He nudges his nose against you. "Please, I want you near me all the time," he whispers. You close your eyes at his touch before looking at him again. "I want to be with you too, Hoon. I will leave him for you," you whisper, pecking his lips. "Fuck yes." He kisses you hard, holding your neck before leaving you breathless. "You are always going to be mine, even if it means having you like this. I can work with it, but I know you will be back every time, every night.
THE END~~
It will be great if you can repost this post or leave a comment!
1: MAKE ME YOURS — You’re an Omega with rare, selective instincts, untouched by every Alpha you've ever met. That is, until you catch a scent that stops you cold and ignites a hunger you’ve never known. It leads you straight to Park Jongseong—the quiet Alpha who barely acknowledges your existence.
Now, every encounter becomes a quiet war with your own body. You try to ignore the pull, and yet, you can’t shake the fear that he might be the only Alpha your instincts will ever respond to… and the only one your heart will ever want.
content tags: a/b/o dynamics: alpha!jay, omega!reader, (ft. beta ningning, beta yeonjun) reader is kind of desparate for jay lol, spoiled bratty! reader, jay don't give a fuck, typical y/n behavior, pursuer female trope!!!, angst w/ little bit of fluff, second hand embarassment, half of the chapter is reader throwing tantrums, or talking about flower knows and nails, non-chalant jay, she yaps & he never (i guess) listen, kinda delusional reader in the first half chapter. no smut. WC:24.4K . next chapter.
⋮ ⌗ act one
OMEGAS are known for their heightened sense of smell, particularly when it comes to Alphas. Alphas naturally emit strong pheromones, which can influence and attract Omegas, triggering instinctive reactions such as comfort, submission, or arousal, depending on the situation. For most Omegas, an Alpha's scent is a sign of protection or a potential mate, something their instincts naturally respond to.
However, ever since you came out as an Omega, things haven't been that simple.
One major complication is your extreme sensitivity to an Alpha's scent, not in the way that compels submission or attraction, but in a way that it overwhelms you, making you uncomfortable. Instead of feeling reassured or drawn in, the intensity of their presence unsettles you, leaving you tense and overstimulated.
Being in a crowded space full of Alphas feels almost suffocating. While other Omegas might naturally respond by releasing their own pheromones like showing interest or submission, your body doesn't react the way it's supposed to.
You stay still, tense, untouched by the pull that seems to affect everyone else. Their scents hit you in waves that is too strong and too overwhelming, like they're pressing in from every side. But the response everyone expects from you never comes, making it clear that you're different from the rest.
"Her Omega instincts are being selective," the psychologist says, watching you for a moment before setting their clipboard aside. "It's not unusual. Some Omegas are naturally more particular when it comes to choosing a mate. Her body is reacting to Alpha pheromones, but it's filtering them out—rejecting the ones that don't match what it subconsciously sees as a good fit."
Your mother shifts in her seat, clearly uneasy. "But she's not marked or bonded. Shouldn't she be reacting to at least one of them?"
You curl in on yourself, pulling your arms close and wishing you could disappear. It's not like you asked for this!
The psychologist gives a gentle nod. "It could be a natural defense. Some Omegas are less responsive to general Alpha presence, especially when their instincts are focused on long-term compatibility rather than instant attraction. Her body might not have found a match yet. It's rare, but it happens."
Your mother grips the edge of her purse a little tighter. Her lips press into a thin line before she speaks again. "Even during her heat, nothing happens. No response to any Alpha." There's a heavier worry in her voice. "At first, I thought maybe it was nerves, but it's every time. Shouldn't she be drawn to someone? Shouldn't she... want relief?"
You shift in your seat, heat creeping up your neck. The last thing you want is to talk about your heat cycles—not here, not like this. You stare down at the floor, hands clenched tightly in your lap.
The psychologist keeps their tone calm. "Typically, yes. During heat, but in her case, that system isn't responding like it should. Or maybe it's just locked. Her instincts seem to be holding back unless a very specific set of conditions is met." They glance at you, "her biology may only allow a response when it senses something—or someone—exactly right."
You don't need an Alpha. Fuck the way society acts like every Omega should rely on one. Yeah, heat is a bitch. Your body still wants something, the pressure builds, the ache, and that craving for a knot never really goes away. But even with all of that, no Alpha's scent has ever been strong enough to push you over the edge. Not once, and that's fucking okay, you can manage anyway.
Until now.
Your nose twitches as a new scent cuts through the heavy mix of pheromones in the crowded seminar hall. It's sharp, but smooth clean citrus with a warm, woody edge. Fresh, crisp, and nothing like the thick, cloying musk that usually fills spaces like this.
You frown, sniffing the air again. "What's that smell?" Beside you, Ningning scrunches her face, giving a quick sniff before shrugging. "What smell?"
"That smell," you repeat, already stepping forward without realizing it. Your body moves on its own, drawn by the trail curling through the room.
Ningning sighs and follows, heels clicking against the polished floor. "Is it bothering you? We can leave, you know. This seminar's pointless anyway." But you barely hear her. The scent is subtle, yet it grabs hold of something inside you and refuses to let go. It doesn't choke you or press in too close. It lingers inside your brain and calling you.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" Ningning yells, trying to keep up as you slip through the crowd. Inside you, the Omega stirs. There's a quiet hum under your skin, a soft purr in your chest that builds with every step.
Alpha. The word rings in your mind, and the moment you reach a clearer space in the crowd, the scent hits you full force, and it wraps around you so gently it nearly takes your breath away. Your knees almost buckle under the weight of it.
He stands just a few feet away. His raven-black hair is neatly pushed back, sharp jawline accentuated by the clean-cut angles of his face. The thin frames of his glasses rest perfectly on his nose, and the designer Prada bag slung over his shoulder adds to his air of quiet sophistication. Everything about him exudes elegance.
An unmated Alpha. Exactly what you're looking for.
You move before you can think, feet carrying you toward him. Ningning stares at you, mouth open in shock. "What the hell are you doing?!"
You don't answer, because the moment you reach him, you stop—right beside him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to let the scent wash over you fully. He turns his head slightly, finally noticing you. His sharp eyes flicker with curiosity behind the lenses of his glasses.
You just stand there, inhaling his scent, letting it fill your lungs, your body. It's ridiculous how good he smells, It was the smell that something your Omega has been starved for.
Make him yours. The voice inside you, your Omega, purrs again.
Ningning definitely notices. Her jaw nearly hits the floor as your eyes follow the Alpha when he quietly slips out of the room. You're practically floating in his scent trail, still dazed. "What the hell was that?" She hisses, grabbing your arm as soon as he disappears through the door. "Don't ever approach someone like that again. He's going to think you're weird!"
You blink, only half-hearing her. The moment plays over in your mind again and again.
You find out his name sooner than expected—Park Jongseong, a Media Communication major. As fate would have it, the universe seems to be working in your favor. He's in several of your classes. Every time he enters the room, your Omega perks up. A soft purr thrums in your chest before you can stop it.
Ningning always throws you a look and mutters under her breath, "Seriously? Again?"
Your eyes always follow him automatically—across the room, down the hallway, when he leans over his desk or pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Every move he makes, no matter how small, draws you in.
He doesn't talk much. He always sits near the windows, notebook open, pen in hand, brows slightly furrowed as he listens.
Make him yours.
"Help me get his attention," you whisper, leaning into Ningning as Jay starts packing up after the lecture. He's calm and quiet as always, sliding his notebook into his bag, adjusting the sleeves of his black knit sweater.
"Come on, quick!" you hiss, already digging through your bag for your perfume. She groans but moves fast. You tilt your head forward as she fixes your hair, brushing a few flyaways and smoothing it down. Meanwhile, you spritz a little perfume on your neck and wrists, just enough to mix with your natural scent. Ningning grabs her lip gloss and dabs a bit on your lips, then hands you your compact mirror.
"Go," she whispers, giving your clothes a quick once-over and adjusting your collar. You nod, your heart racing as you stand and gather your things, trying to keep your hands from trembling. Ningning follows close behind, fixing your shirt and muttering encouragement under her breath.
You spot him just ahead, stepping through the lecture hall door. This is it. You cough a few times, trying to steady your breath, then pick up your pace, weaving through the crowd. Your eyes are locked on him, he's almost at the stairs when you catch up and accidentally bump right into him.
"S-sorry," you stammer, your things slipping from your arms and scattering across the floor.
He pauses, then crouches down, picking up your notebook without a word. His expression doesn't change, but the moment he moves closer, his scent washes over you again. That warm, clean blend of citrus and wood that makes your body melt. Your Omega reacts instantly, purring loud and eager beneath your skin. You feel your own pheromones release in response, filling the space around you with a subtle sweetness.
Jay's hand freezes as he reaches for your lip gloss, his shoulders stiffen. The flicker of awareness in his eyes as the scent hits him.
But just like that, he composes himself. He stands slowly, and hands you your things. "Here," he says politely. Then, without another glance, he turns and walks away. Leaving you standing there in the middle of the hallway, dazed and breathless, your Omega still humming with need.
"Bitch?!" Ningning hisses, snapping you out of your trance as she rushes to your side. "You should've said something! Asked his name, complimented his glasses, anything!" You blink, still watching Jay's back as he disappears around the corner. "I couldn't," you murmur. "My brain just... stopped working."
Ningning groans, dragging a hand down her face. "And why—why—did you release pheromones? At least try to be subtle!" Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Ningning was already pulling you aside so no one else overhears. "Some Alphas hate that kind of attention, especially if it's not from someone they've claimed. You have to ease into it, be patient. Make him curious."
You nod slowly, maybe she's right. Maybe pouncing on him with scent and nerves wasn't the best move. Not everyone responds well to sudden heat, especially not when it's from a stranger. You need a new plan. Something that keeps you close enough to be noticed without pushing too hard.
The second time you try is days later, at the vending machine. You spot him across the hallway, standing in front of the glowing machine, casually scanning the snack options. His hair is slightly tousled today, glasses still perched perfectly on his nose, and his black hoodie is unzipped just enough to show the white shirt underneath.
You breathe in slowly and check yourself in the glass reflection nearby—hair smooth, lips glossed, scent neutral but fresh. Ningning had prepped you, hand landing firmly on your shoulder.
"Act casual. Go for something at the vending machine next to him. Drop something, but not your lip gloss again. That's obvious. And for god's sake, don't purr. Just smile. Like a normal person."
And you are walking over at a steady pace, fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You stop beside him, not too close, pretending to examine the chocolate-covered almonds . He doesn't glance your way, but you can feel his quiet presence because it carries a weight of calmness that makes the air around you feel thick.
You reach out to make a selection but "accidentally" drop your coins. They roll, clinking softly before stopping near his shoe. He looks down, then turns his head toward you. You offer a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry... I'm not usually that clumsy."
He bends down, picks up the coins, and holds them out. "Here." And with just one word, but his voice settles deep in your chest.
"Thanks," you reply quietly, reaching out. Your fingers brush against his, and the lightest spark tingles across your skin. You exhale a little too softly, trying not to seem too obvious. Your foot taps once against the floor as the silence stretches, your Omega waiting beneath your skin.
Say something. Anything! Your eyes flick to the snack in his hand, and you grasp for words. "Uh... the almonds are kind of hard to bite," you say, gesturing vaguely to the machine. "Like, weirdly crunchy."
He glances at the pack, then back at you. "That's how I like it," he says simply.
You nod, a little too fast, tapping your foot as the silence stretches. Your mind races for a way to keep it going. "Well, you should try the cookies," you say, voice a little shaky as you slip a coin into the machine. "They're actually pretty good."
"Thanks, but I'm not really into that," Jay replies, his tone flat but not unkind.
You glance at him, searching for interest, or a flicker of attention but there's nothing. His expression stays unreadable, his eyes already drifting elsewhere. No spark, no tension, no sign that he feels even a hint of what you do. And just like that, something inside you stirs. A bitter, involuntary scent slips out, sharp enough that you feel it hit the air.
"U-Uh..." you murmur, fumbling to grab the cookie pack from the tray. Jay pauses for the briefest second, but he doesn't look back. He just turns and walks away, completely untouched by the moment you thought might lead to something.
You're left standing there, snack in hand, heart sinking fast. Your Omega retreats into silence, humiliated, like even it knows the moment was a failure.
Ningning appears beside you in an instant, throwing her arms around your shoulder. "I messed it up again," you mumble, voice caught in your throat, the sting rising faster.
"No," she says firmly, refusing to let you spiral. "Some Alphas take time. We just need more interaction, that's all." She waves her hands as if drawing a map in the air. "We'll plan it out better."
You nod quickly, already thinking through new ideas, anything to close the distance between you and him.
PARK JONGSEONG is the kind of Alpha people whisper about, composed, intelligent, clearly ahead of the curve in every class. You've seen how professors look at him when he speaks. You've watched how other students move aside when he passes. His scent, for you, is everything, It wraps around your Omega. So steady, clean, so grounding.
Except when he's ignoring you. Which is all the time.
And still, you try. Pathetically. Persistently. Every damn time.
You drop your student ID at the table he always takes in the library—a corner seat by the window, second floor, right after lunch. Ningning thought it was genius. You even positioned it just barely under the leg of the chair, so he'd have to notice.
You linger nearby, pretending to flip through a book on media ethics, waiting.
"Oh no—this yours?" The Student Council President, of all people, walks up, holding your ID. "You shouldn't be so careless. Do you know how much of a hassle it is to replace one of these?"
Your mouth opens and closes, cheeks heating up. "I—I just dropped it..."
"Well, don't just drop important things off in public spaces, lady. Be more mindful next time." He hands it to you with a huff and walks off.
You glance at Jay's table. He's still reading, pen tapping slowly against the side of his notebook. No reaction. Not even a glance in your direction.
Not. Even. A glance!
You think you're being fucking ridiculous at this point. Every carefully planned attempt, every "natural" interaction, every dumb little coincidence you set up—none of it works.
"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" Ningning says carefully, watching your expression. Your jaw tightens, fists clenching at the thought. But you shake it off fast, refusing to let that idea root.
"He doesn't smell like another Omega," you mutter, voice sharp. "You would know that. I would know that. And he's unmated."
"Woah, calm down," Ningning replies, holding up her hands. "I'm just saying... it's weird. We're on, what, attempt number five? And he's still not reacting."
You sigh, slumping against the hallway wall. "I know."
The thing is, most Alphas aren't that hard to read. They're biologically wired to notice an Omega when they're near especially one who's showing interest. A glance, a tension in the shoulders, a change in breathing. Anything.
Some Alphas are aggressive, territorial. They're the ones who scent-mark and cling too fast, too soon. Others are more careful, observant, waiting for signs of compatibility before making a move. Jay, apparently, is the third kind, the kind that doesn't react at all.
But you know he's not immune.
That first time, when you accidentally released your scent in front of him, he stiffened. You've replayed it so many times, dissected every second. He didn't look at you, didn't speak beyond handing back your things, but his body gave him away. That fleeting shift, that pause in his movement, it was something. It had to be. You've been clinging to that moment, letting it carry you through every failed attempt since. Because if you stop believing it meant something, even the smallest thing, then there's no point in trying at all.
The truth is, from the moment you caught his scent, everything inside you shifted. You knew he was the one. Your Omega didn't just react to him—it chose him. And the more time you spend near him, the more your choice solidifies. Not out of desperation or fantasy, but because of how right it feels when he's close, even if he never looks at you.
Make him yours. And you're starting to understand something you didn't at first. Subtlety had its chance. Casual conversations, timed glances, convenient run-ins—they all failed. He didn't bite.
If normal interaction isn't enough to break through that calm wall of his, then you'll have to try something else. Something bolder. Something that matches the pull your Omega feels every time he walks into a room. You're done waiting for him to notice. The plan now is to make sure he can't ignore you.
Because quiet doesn't work on someone like Jay, you need to make a little noise.
⋮ ⌗ act two
AS SOMEONE with an unusually selective sensitivity to Alpha pheromones, you grew up wrapped in a carefully constructed kind of comfort. Your parents made sure that everything you needed—emotionally, physically, and materially—was always within reach. They knew you weren't like the other Omegas your age, who seemed to handle their instincts and hormonal shifts with far less complication.
They filled in the gaps with attention and luxury, convincing themselves and maybe even you that it wasn't a weakness, just a different kind of path. You were well taken care of, and nothing you wanted ever stayed out of reach for long. Whether it was comfort during your off days, distractions from your unresponsive instincts, or a quiet place to fall apart, it was all handed to you. Soft pillows. Favorite meals. New clothes. Extra time. Anything to soothe the ache that no one could see.
But no matter how much they gave, a part of you always knew something was missing. You didn't know how to name it then, not when everything looked so perfect on the surface. You didn't lack affection, didn't go without care. Still, the emptiness sat somewhere low in your stomach, coiling tighter every time you watched another Omega respond naturally to the presence of an Alpha, while you stayed untouched.
Your heat cycles were more like drawn-out fevers than instinct-driven events. You'd lock yourself away, curled in sweat-dampened sheets with a pounding head and aching limbs, convincing everyone that it was just another sick day. You never told them that the worst part wasn't the physical discomfort but the fact that your body was asking for something it never responded to. Nothing ever triggered the right release.
Still, you didn't mind skipping classes. You used those days as excuses to disconnect from the world, as if sleep and silence could somehow fill the void. Even if your body felt broken, the rest of your life was wrapped in ease. You learned to live with the quiet, with the stillness that followed every unanswered pull.
But the moment that Alpha stepped into your world, you knew, without needing time to process it, that he was the missing piece. The emptiness you'd been taught to manage, the dullness you had accepted as normal, suddenly felt glaring and intolerable.
For so long, you had lived a life where nothing was ever denied to you. From material comfort to emotional reassurance, everything you desired had been placed easily into your hands. It created a world where you never had to fight for anything, never had to question your worth or chase after something that resisted you. But now, you wanted something—or rather, someone—who didn't come running. Someone who didn't fall at your feet or bend to your need. And that was Jay.
"Hi," you say with a soft smile, setting your things down on the table beside him. The contents of your preppy, overstuffed bag clatter slightly—pens, lip gloss, and a pack of color-coded sticky notes shifting with the weight as you place it aside. Jay looks up, raising an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden appearance at his table.
"There's no seat available," you explain smoothly before he can ask. When his eyes start to flick past you, probably to check if that's actually true, you casually shift your body to block his view. He hesitates for a second, then, without a word, he leans back and reaches for the empty chair beside him, pulling it out for you before returning to the book in his hand.
Your heart gives an excited flutter, the tiniest rush of victory surging through you as you slide into the chair he offered. You sit a little straighter, pretending not to be giddy while your lips curl into a quiet, triumphant smile. You glance back over your shoulder and spot Ningning at the back row. She catches your eye, hands cupped in front of her as she silently claps and flashes you a double thumbs-up. You almost laugh.
You adjust the sleeves of your cardigan with a light tug, smooth the fabric of your skirt across your lap, and begin pulling out your things—your textbook, a rainbow of highlighters, and your favorite fine-tip pens, all laid out in perfect order. As the professor enters and begins to arrange their notes, the murmurs in the lecture hall die down. You straighten your back, fingers folding neatly on your notebook, but your eyes drift to the side.
Jay sits perfectly still, his focus already back on the textbook in front of him. He hasn't said anything more, hasn't looked at you again, but the tension in your chest remains. You breathe in slowly, catching a trace of his scent in the air. It's just as sharp and grounded as you remember, a mix of something clean and deep that makes your Omega stir with quiet satisfaction.
The professor started to discuss lessons and you are practically listening and somehow taking notes to maybe impress him, and that was working because he took a glance of your side, seeing you highlighting the whole textbook words. Trying to show him that you're serious, intelligent, worthy of more than a glance.
Jay shifts slightly in his seat, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a brief flick of his gaze in your direction.
You keep your face neutral, pretending to be deep in concentration as your highlighter glides over the page. Line after line glows in soft pastel, the entire passage bathed in yellow. A tiny Hello Kitty doodle in the corner of the page, next to a heavily annotated paragraph on communication theory.
You wonder what he's thinking. If he's amused, confused, maybe even slightly entertained. A quiet giggle escapes your lips, and you bite down gently, trying to hide the smile forming there. Your foot taps lightly against the floor, energy buzzing low in your body.
You wait a moment longer, gauging the air between you. He hasn't looked again, hasn't shifted or spoken. So you take a breath and lean a little closer, turning slightly toward him. "Uh... I don't actually get this," you say, voice soft but clear as you point to a section in the textbook—an overly technical explanation on media framing you've probably already read twice. "Can you explain it to me?"
For a second, he doesn't respond. His eyes remain on his book, and you start to wonder if you've crossed a line too soon. But then he exhales quietly, closes his textbook partway, and glances at the page you're showing him. His gaze lingers there for a moment, then shifts to you. "You highlighted the whole paragraph," he says.
Your cheeks flush, but you don't back down. "I like the... vibe of it." Jay looks at you for a second longer, then he leans in slightly, his finger tapping just under a specific line on the page. "It's saying the media doesn't just tell people what to think but what to think about. Focus, not opinion."
"Oh," you murmur, nodding slowly, eyes flicking to where his hand rests just a few inches from yours. "You make it sound easier than it reads."
"I read it twice," he replies, already pulling his book back in front of him.
And though he doesn't say anything more, his voice is still in your ears. You turn your eyes back to your book, pretending to focus, even though your brain has stopped retaining anything. You don't try anything else after that one moment. That single conversation is enough to carry you through the rest of the day. It's the first time Jay acknowledged you, and it left your Omega humming.
Now, walking through the hallway with Ningning by your side, you can't stop smiling. The two of you are giggling, replaying every second of that encounter.
"He definitely wants you," Ningning says with dramatic flair, nudging your shoulder.
You laugh, blushing as you swat her playfully. "Shut up, it was just one line."
"Please. That line had chemistry." You roll your eyes, but you can't deny the heat in your cheeks or the way your heart flips at the memory.
Reaching the vending machine, you step forward, scanning the options. "Huh? No cookies?" you frown, staring at the empty slot. "Ugh, I was craving those."
Ningning leans in, also inspecting the machine. "Tragic," she says with a mock-sigh, then brightens. "What if we cut our next class and check out that new café that just opened near the plaza?"
You blink. "Tempting." Ningning pulls out her phone, scrolling before shoving it toward your face. You lean in, squinting at the tiny text, then pinch the screen to zoom. "Sixty dollars for a matcha latte?" you ask, arching a brow. "Not bad."
Ningning squeals in approval. "Okay, so we do the café and get our nails redone. We need to change the designs anyway—mine are chipped, and yours are too soft for this week's vibe."
"I was just thinking that," you nod. "I need a silver set. Like sharp silver."
"You'll slay," she says, flipping her hair. You're mid-laugh when a voice cuts through the moment.
"Excuse me."
You and Ningning turn simultaneously, startled. Jay stands just behind you, hand gesturing toward the vending machine.
Your mouth opens. "H-Huh?" He doesn't repeat himself, just nods slightly at the machine again. You immediately step aside, your heart leaping into your throat.
"Sorry," you mutter, voice small. You grab Ningning's wrist and drag her away, heels clicking way too loudly in the suddenly echoing hallway.
You don't speak until you're halfway around the corner. Then, a panicked whisper: "Oh my god. Did he just hear us talking about skipping class?"
Ningning stares at you, wide-eyed. "I think he did."
You gasp, covering your mouth. "What if he thinks I'm irresponsible?! What if he's, like, into punctuality?"
"Oh, calm down," Ningning says, rolling her eyes and giving your shoulder a light slap. "You're hot. He'll understand."
The next day, you're back in class, you move toward the seat beside him. He doesn't look up when you settle in, but he doesn't move away either. That alone feels like a small victory.
Your bag makes its usual soft thump as you place it down, and you take a slow breath, gathering the courage to try again. Your fingers flip open your notebook, the page already prepared with today's topic scribbled in soft pencil at the top. You glance at him once, then look down at your page, pretending to be curious then turn slightly toward him.
"Sooo..." you start, "how do you think politicians build and maintain public personas? Do you think it's all strategy, or is there actual personality behind it?"
Jay's pen pauses mid-sentence. He doesn't look at you right away, but he tilts his head slightly, as if considering the question. "It's both," he says, voice even. "Strategy shapes the narrative, but personality sells it. If the public doesn't believe it's genuine, the image falls apart."
You blink, caught off guard by the depth of his response and the fact that he answered you at all. "That's... actually a good point," you say, surprised by how easily the conversation opens. "So image is controlled, but it needs to feel natural?"
He nods once, eyes still on his notes. "Authenticity matters. Or at least the illusion of it." You nod along, genuinely impressed by how he speaks. There's no flourish, no need to impress. He just says what he means. You turn slightly toward him again, emboldened by the way he hasn't shut you out.
Truth be told, you're not all that invested in the lecture or the textbook you've been pretending to highlight. You didn't choose Media Communication because you had a burning passion for media theory or policy analysis. You chose it because it was flexible, creative, and practical enough to satisfy your parents while still giving you room to breathe. You're more interested in the industry side—branding, entertainment, fashion, maybe even PR.
Your gaze drifts back to him, and without thinking too hard about it, you speak again. "You know, you're like... really serious," you say, laced with genuine curiosity. "I admire that in an Alpha. So quiet, but it's like you always know exactly what you're talking about."
That earns you a glance. "Why did you choose this major?" you ask, trying not to sound too eager. "Was it something you always wanted?"
Jay closes his book, slips a paper between the pages to mark his place, "I chose it because communication controls perception," he says. "And perception shapes power. If you want to understand influence, you have to understand how people see the world and who's deciding what they're allowed to see."
You blink, a little caught off guard by how sharp his answer is, how layered. God, he's so hot. You rest your chin on your hand, pretending to scan your notes while stealing another glance at him. His jaw is sharp from this angle, and the way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the edge of the table feels unintentionally deliberate.
"You make it sound so... intense," you say with a soft laugh, trying to sound casual.
"It's just media," he replies, eyes still on his notes. "But most people don't realize how much it controls them until it's already shaped their beliefs."
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling too hard. He's serious, and he probably doesn't even realize how attractive that is. "I just chose it because I didn't want to take calculus," you admit, shrugging. "I'm aiming more for industry—creative side. Branding. Fashion. That sort of thing."
He glances at you again. "So not here for the theory."
You laugh lightly. "Guilty."
ONE THING about Jay that you've repeated—out loud to Ningning, in your head at night, and even in your journal when you're feeling particularly lovesick—is that he's just so serious. It's not just his expression, which rarely shifts from that calm, focused look, or the way he speaks in clean, measured sentences. It's everything about him. The way he listens before speaking, the way he never fidgets or rambles, how he always seems a little detached from the chaos around him.
Conversations with him are awkward more often than not, mostly because you're doing most of the heavy lifting. You ask, he answers. You joke, he blinks. You try to steer things toward common ground, usually something from the subjects you share, but even then, getting more than a few sentences out of him is like trying to pull sunlight out of storm clouds. Still, there's something about his stillness, the way he never brushes you off, never acts annoyed or dismissive, that keeps you coming back. He may not give much, but he doesn't shut you out either. And for someone like Jay, that's saying something.
You've been trying for weeks now to catch him smile. A real one. Not just a twitch of the lips or a polite curve. You've watched his face like a hawk in lectures, in group discussions, even when someone in class said something truly ridiculous. Nothing, he's a stone wall. A beautiful stone wall.
You're walking beside him after class, textbook tucked against your chest, and your eyes flick up toward him. "Wow," you say, almost without thinking, blend with something a little more flirtatious. "You're like... so tall."
He makes a low sound in response—"Hmmm"—flat, sooo uninterested. His eyes stay forward, no change in his expression, and for a second you want to groan. Why is he like this?
You bite your lip, forcing a small laugh as you quicken your steps to stay beside him. "It's normal for an Alpha to be tall, right?" you continue, "Is that, like, a biological thing or just unfair genetics?"
A beat of silence that almost makes you think he's going to ignore you again—but then, finally, he speaks. "I guess height's common," he says. "It's just bone structure. Has nothing to do with whether or not someone can protect or lead."
And just like that, the conversation slips right back into that oddly philosophical tone he always seems to carry. You blink, unsure whether to be impressed again or just plain exhausted. You hug your textbook tighter to your chest and glance at him, lips parting, but nothing comes out. Because really, what do you even say to that? You were joking. Kind of. Or at least trying to keep things playful. Flirty, maybe. And here he is, treating the topic of Alpha height like it's part of some dissertation.
Why is he like this? Why does every conversation with him end up sounding like it belongs in a debate or a textbook? You let out a soft sigh, almost defeated. Does he not have a sense of humor? At all? Has he ever laughed? Like, genuinely?
He's not cold, and he's not mean—he just seems like he's wired to take everything seriously, to filter everything through logic and restraint. Like the idea of saying something stupid just for fun physically pains him.
"I know there's something under that ice," you mutter as you find yourself collapsing into a seat beside Ningning. "I just haven't figured out how to melt it yet."
Ningning leans in, suddenly serious. "Okay. Then stop letting him steer the tone. Flip it."
You blink. "Flip it?"
"You keep asking him about himself—his thoughts, his perfectly structured, emotionally stunted worldview," she says, waving her hand dramatically. "Ask him something about you. Throw him off. Put him in unfamiliar territory."
You frown, considering. "Like what? My childhood trauma?"
"No!" She glares. "Keep it cute, dumbass. Ask him what nail color suits you. Or what your color palette is. Something visual. Something he wouldn't expect. Make him look at you as you. Not a classmate, not a discussion partner—you."
You blink at her, then slowly sit up, a grin creeping across your face. "That's actually kind of genius."
Ningning preens. "Of course it is. I should start charging for advice."
The next time you see Jay after class, while walking beside him down the stone path lined with early autumn leaves—you wait until the conversation dips into its usual silence. You look down at your nails, freshly done with a soft nude polish and silver accents, then glance at him.
"Hey," you say casually, turning toward him slightly, "be honest. What color do you think would look good on my nails?"
"I—what?" He says. You lift your hand, fingers fanned slightly. He looks at your hand, and for the first time in weeks of trying, he actually hesitates.
"Why are you asking me?"
You raise a brow, keeping your voice light. "Because you have eyes, and I figured you might know what looks good. You're observant. Aren't Alphas supposed to be visually sharp or something?"
Jay's expression doesn't shift much, just that same slow, processing look he gives to everything. As if he's trying to figure out if this is a trick question. "I'm not really an expert on nail colors," he replies.
"Exactly why your answer would be interesting," you say, not letting up. "No overthinking. Just—what do you think would look good?"
He stares at your hand a moment longer, his brows narrowing slightly in thought. "Dark red. Or emerald. Something that contrasts."
You blink, surprised not just by the answer, but by how confidently he says it once he decides. "Really?" you ask, grinning. "Why?"
"Because it would stand out. You wear a lot of soft tones. That would break it."
You pause, smile lingering. Your Omega purrs beneath the surface, pleased by his answer. You didn't even realize you were releasing pheromones until you caught his glance again, he felt it but chose not to say anything. You quickly pulled back, muttering your goodbye before walking away, your steps light, body buzzing with something that made you feel like you could float. Or run. Or scream.
Ningning fans herself dramatically as you finish the story, eyes wide and lips parted like she's about to faint.
"I need to breathe. I actually need to lie down. This is too much. He wants you that bad."
Over the next few days, you find yourself leaning in more, talking more, weaving pieces of yourself into the quiet spaces he allows you to fill. You know you're chasing him. Carefully. Waiting for him to slip just enough to let you in.
You tell him about your shopping trip with your parents, narrating it like a story you hope he'll secretly enjoy. You pull out your phone and show him your new emerald nail set, his suggestion—and even though he only glances and gives a barely-there nod, your heart races.
Today, you're back beside him again, phone already in hand before class starts. He's reading—he's always reading—but you angle the screen toward him anyway.
"Look," you say softly, tilting your phone so he can see. "This is the new design for the Flower Knows. Isn't it cute?"
He barely lifts his gaze. "Hmm."
"I'm planning to buy the whole set," you continue, your tone light with just enough excitement to keep the conversation moving. "The design is so cute—it's like, magical fairy princess energy."
You start digging through your bag, rummaging past highlighters and hand cream, determined to show him more proof of your obsession. "And look—this clip? Also from Flower Knows. And my mirror, too."
You finally pull it out and hold it up between you. It's pastel pink with gold accents, the mirror rimmed with delicate little flowers and a tiny pearl charm dangling from the corner. You tilt it toward him with a proud smile. "Cute, right?"
Jay glances up, gaze flicking to the mirror in your hand. He studies it for a beat longer than usual, eyes moving across the details before they shift back to your face. Yes, attention!
Your Omega stirs instantly, thrilled by the flicker of focus. "You really like this brand," he says.
Your eyes sparkle at the sound, and you nod, heart fluttering. "I do," you say, tone bright. "They make everything so pretty—romantic, even. It's like they design everything with soft people in mind."
Without missing a beat, you shuffle through your bag again, fingers brushing past pens and notebooks until they close around the familiar small tube. You pull it out and hold it in front of him, the packaging all shimmering red and pink. "This is my favorite," you say, showing him the lip glaze. "It came from the set called Strawberry Cupid. Even the name's adorable."
You twist off the cap and hold the wand up, careful not to get it too close. "It smells like candy, and it's got this tiny gold shimmer in it. I'd let you try it, but I don't think that's your vibe."
Jay doesn't respond, just silence as he calmly turns back to his textbook. The brief moment of attention is gone again, and you're left staring at the side of his face. But you don't stop. You refuse to stop. You lower the gloss, cap it again, and rest your elbow on the table, head tilting slightly as your eyes drop to his hand—broad, still, resting lightly over the open page of his book. His fingers are long, neat, relaxed.
"Stop it, Jay," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Your hand is like sooo big." He doesn't move, but his pen pauses in place. You slide your hand next to his on the table, palms flat, fingers stretching to match his. The size difference is comically obvious.
"Look at this," you say, eyes flicking between your hand and his. "This is ridiculous. I look like a baby." Still no verbal reply, but his eyes shift to the sight of your hand beside his. "You could literally hold my entire face with one hand," you add, smirking.
Jay exhales, finally speaking, tone flat. "Why would I do that?"
"Dramatic emphasis," you reply without hesitation, grinning.
You expect him to ignore you again. Instead, he flips the page in his textbook, slowly, and mutters under his breath, "You're so fucking loud."
It should sting. Maybe from someone else, it would. But from him? The words are dipped different—dry annoyance with no real bite. There's no edge, no tension, just the sound of someone resigned to your presence. Your smile creeps in. You lean in, shoulder gently nudging his with the kind of softness that borders on familiarity, even if he hasn't quite given it to you yet. "Sorry," you whisper, all fake innocence and playful sweetness, like you didn't just take another step into his space on purpose.
His shoulder stays pressed lightly against yours, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. And for someone like Jay, who seems to guard every inch of his presence, that quiet stillness feels louder than anything he could say.
⋮ ⌗ act three
"ARE YOU seriously telling me," Giselle says, crossing her arms with a look of pure judgment, "that after three months, all you've done is compare hand sizes with him?" She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her tone teetering between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment.
Before you can even open your mouth, Ningning jumps in ready to defend your honor. "He's an unmated Alpha, Giselle! That means it's a big deal. He doesn't even look at people—he looked at her! That's progress."
Giselle snorts. "Bitch, at this rate, she could be asking him if he can help her with her heat. You've got permission to flirt, not write a slow-burn tragedy."
You gasp, swatting her playfully. "Stop it! I am not ready for the R-18 version of my life yet." You wave your finger in front of her face, trying not to laugh as Ningning snickers beside you. "I'm building a connection," you say, mock-offended but fully grinning. "You don't rush art."
You're not in a rush because you enjoy it—every small, awkward, quiet moment with Jay. Even when he gives you nothing. Even when he sighs like he's this close to telling you to leave him alone. You still slip into the seat next to him, still nudge his shoulder with yours, still talk about nail polish and dessert-shaped blush compacts.
The bond might not be spoken or returned yet, but it's there, and in every moment he lets you stay.
"Ayoo? What's with the two of you lately?" Yeonjun calls out, grinning. A chorus of teasing follows from a few classmates, the usual ooohs and wolf whistles echoing louder than necessary. You instinctively push a strand of hair behind your ear, face warming as you try to brush off the attention.
"Stop it, guys," you mutter, rolling your eyes and waving them off. Jay, of course, doesn't respond. He just walks to his usual seat, unfazed, calm as ever. But you catch the slight tightening of his jaw. The way he adjusts his bag a little more roughly than usual before sitting down.
You follow, naturally, and as you pass Yeonjun, you give him a light kick to the side of his foot, just enough to make your point. "Asshole," you hiss under your breath. "Lover girl," he sings back, winking. You ignore him and slide into the seat beside Jay, acting like your heart isn't pounding.
Jay doesn't say anything when you sit beside him. You try not to let it bother you. You tell yourself he's probably tired, or focused on the lecture, or maybe in one of his quiet moods again. Still, halfway through class, you lean in a little, whispering something light—maybe a comment about the ridiculous diagram on the slide. Something harmless, something that usually gets you a sigh, a glance, something.
Instead, all you get is a sharp click of his tongue, like you're a fly buzzing too close to his ear. You freeze, pouting slightly as you pull back. The sting isn't sharp, but it's enough to make your Omega shrink a little, unsettled by the rejection. He's never been warm, never welcoming, but he's never snapped either—not like this.
You spend the rest of the lecture trying to focus, eyes flicking to him now and then, hoping he'll say something that'll make it feel less harsh. He just stays silent, attention locked on the lecture like you don't even exist beside him.
When the class finally ends and students begin packing up, you gather your things slowly, debating if you should say something at all. "Do you want to have lunch together?" you ask, voice trying to sound casual, hopeful. "KFC's maybe? Or Wendy's? I'm, like, really craving fast food right now—"
Jay stops mid-motion, his hand frozen over his bag. Then, without even looking at you, he speaks. "Would you please leave me alone?"
You flinch. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. A soft, involuntary whine escapes your throat, your Omega reacting before your brain does. You stare at him, stunned, lips parted in disbelief.
"I don't know what you want from me," he says, finally turning to look at you. His face isn't just unreadable now—it's annoyed. "But I'm fucking sick of tolerating your presence."
Your stomach drops. The air feels colder, every word sinks deep into your chest, past the teasing, the efforts, the months of hope. "Leave me alone. It's annoying. We're not even friends," Jay says, and then he turns away.
Your eyes begin to blur, the weight of humiliation building too fast to swallow down. You inhale sharply, trying to hold it in, trying not to let it show but your Omega doesn't listen. It reacts, a wave of distressed pheromones leaks from your skin. You step back instinctively, shoulders curling inward as you twist away, walking fast in the opposite direction.
You missed the way Jay stop his steps and looked back at your retreating figure.
You focus on your steps, your breathing, anything to distract yourself from the way your chest feels like it's caving in. The hallway seems longer than usual, you feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere as you pass other students, their gazes following you, some of them turning their heads slightly, noses lifting as they catch the scent of your distress.
You duck into an empty hallway, one rarely used between classes, and slip into the corner near a closed-off faculty room. There, out of sight, you finally let yourself breathe as your hands tremble against the cool wall.
Your Omega coils in your chest, quiet but wounded. It doesn't understand. Alphas aren't supposed to reject so harshly. Not when there's been a connection. Not when you've tried this hard. Not when every instinct told you he was the one. But you remind yourself—Jay is different. He always has been. Cold, closed-off, serious to a fault. And today... maybe today he's just having a bad day. Maybe something pushed him too far, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You should've backed off sooner. You should've noticed the signs.
You had gotten comfortable, too comfortable, that's right. You let yourself believe that his tolerance meant quiet acceptance. You convinced yourself he was letting you in, little by little. But maybe you crossed a line he never gave you permission to approach.
You press your palms to your face, grounding yourself with the contact. You can't cry here. Not now. You have to calm down. Hide the scent. Regain control. You're not his Omega. He never claimed you. Never promised you attention, affection, or anything beyond silence. If he wants space, if your presence has started to feel more like pressure than connection, then you'll give him that.
But that doesn't mean you're giving up. You let your forehead rest against the cool wall, inhaling deeply, trying to draw your scent back under control. Your Omega, though bruised, isn't broken. It whimpers, but it doesn't turn away. You can give him time. You can give him distance. You can even pretend not to care when you pass him in the hallway or when he walks into class like you don't exist but you're not walking away. Not now.
"It's not rejection," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as you explain yourself to your friends later that afternoon. "It's resistance."
The three of you are sprawled across Ningning's bed, surrounded by takeout containers, open makeup palettes, and the unmistakable comfort of long, unfiltered conversations. The topic has shifted—again—to Jay.
Giselle scoffs from the foot of the bed, tossing her phone onto the blanket. "Isn't it unhealthy for an Omega to keep chasing someone who keeps bruising your bond like this? You need to find a new Alpha. Preferably one who actually talks."
You sigh, pressing your palm to your forehead. "You don't get it. He is my Alpha. I can feel it."
"No, you're just being delusional," she mutters.
"No, seriously—" you sit up a little straighter, voice more defensive than you'd like—"I've been pushing too hard. I know that. He's not the type who responds to pressure. I should've paced myself."
Ningning, who's been quiet until now, hums as she applies cuticle oil. "His walls are so high. You're gonna throw out your shoulder knocking like that."
"I'm not stopping," you say, shaking your head. "I just need to knock quieter. That's all."
There's a beat of silence before Giselle shoots you the most deadpan look imaginable. "You literally sound insane." You open your mouth to argue, but before you can say a word, Ningning chimes in without even looking up from her phone. "Let her be," she says, popping a gummy into her mouth. "She's a walking 22-year-old virgin who hasn't spent a single heat with an Alpha since her first one. She's overdue for a little delusion." She pauses, then adds with a knowing smirk, "Besides—Jay is hot. If I were feeling the bond with someone like him, I'd be annoying 24/7 too.
You shove a pillow at her with a groan. "I am not annoying!"
Still, the next day, you choose not to sit beside him.
You walk into the lecture hall early, find a spot a few rows behind his usual seat, and keep your head down as students filter in. When Jay walks in and takes his usual seat, you stay still behind your book, peeking just slightly over the top to watch him placing his things down. Then he reaches for something on the desk.
There, resting against his notebook, is a small box of almond chocolates—his favorite—and a pale pink sticky note with your handwriting:
I'm sorry :<
He stares at it for a moment, no visible change in his expression. Just the smallest pause as he reads the note. Then, slowly, his eyes lift and lock onto yours. You freeze behind your book, immediately ducking your head lower, pretending to read, cheeks burning.
The next day, and the one after that, and the one after that still—you keep leaving small things for him. Almond chocolates, the occasional matcha drink, and those tiny, handwritten notes folded carefully on top. Hope you're not too tired today. Good luck on your quiz. This one has extra almonds. Thought you'd like that.
You don't speak to him. You don't sit beside him again. You don't even make eye contact. You just leave them, quietly, and watch from a distance—sometimes through the gap between your fingers, sometimes from behind your open book, pretending to be invested in your notes. And every time he takes them, your Omega flutters with soft satisfaction. He never says thank you, never even glances your way, but he takes them. That's enough. That means something... doesn't it?
Until it doesn't.
That afternoon, after a particularly long lecture, the room empties slowly. Jay rises from his seat, slips his bag over his shoulder, and walks out like usual. You follow—at a distance, your steps soft and measured, like you're just heading in the same direction. But as you round the corner into the hallway, you see him stop by one of the large trash bins outside the exit. You pause instinctively, half-hidden behind the corner, confused.
Then you watch. He takes the small snack bag you'd given him that morning—still unopened—and the note still clinging to the wrapper with your careful handwriting. You expect him to tuck it into his bag like he always does.
Instead, he drops it straight into the trash. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him toss it in casually. He walks away without a backward glance. You stay frozen in place, unable to move. Your arms hang limp at your sides, your fingers trembling.
Your steps are slow as you walk toward the bin, you kneel beside it, reaching in carefully, pulling out the small snack bag you'd wrapped with quiet hope that morning. The note is still stuck to the front, your handwriting slightly crinkled now, and there's a smear of dust on the plastic.
You brush it off gently with your fingers, your vision blurs again, and this time, you don't try to stop it. One tear slips past your lashes, then another, rolling down your cheek as your lips press together in a tight pout. You blink down at the chocolate, hugging it to your chest.
"Sighs..." you whisper to yourself, trying to breathe through the heaviness in your chest, the sting in your throat. "I think... the things I've been giving him just aren't his taste."
You wipe your cheek, trying to laugh at yourself but failing. "Maybe I just went overboard," you murmur, looking down at the crumpled note. "Maybe it's my fault for pushing too hard."
You press your lips together, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to stand a little straighter, to feel a little less small. "I think I'm gonna need... a little break."
⋮ ⌗ act four
"HEY, Omega, can you get that book over there?"
You don't look up. Your eyes remain fixed on your nails, turning your hand slightly under the light, examining the way the gloss catches at the curve of your cuticles. You're mentally circling between two shades—pearl lavender or muted coral—and trying to picture which would match better with the new outfit you've had saved in your cart for weeks. Your thoughts drift again, this time to the Girlcult makeup set Ningning brought back from her trip to China. The packaging was ethereal, like it came from another world. You want it badly. The blush alone looks like a soft dream.
"Hey, Omega, I said get that book."
The same voice, sharper this time. You still don't look up. Instead, you straighten your fingers and flex them once more, admiring the length you've managed to grow out. Not bad. Not too long either. You make a mental note to book a silver chrome set next week, something reflective. You're already planning your errands after this group meeting, maybe squeeze in some bubble tea, maybe check the thrift shop two blocks down.
You're not even sure if being in the same group as Jay is luck or a cosmic joke. You've stopped chasing him—paused, really—told yourself you'd shift your focus back to yourself. You haven't talked to him since that day in the hallway. Haven't even looked at him directly. You've been pretending, performing the role of the girl who's moved on, who's reclaiming her time and redirecting her energy.
And maybe... maybe it's not all a lie.
You're starting to remember what your life was like before he stepped into it. You used to think he was the missing puzzle piece, the final shape to make you feel whole. But lately, you've started wondering—what if that puzzle piece was never meant for your life? What if it was too sharp, too heavy, too incompatible, no matter how perfect it looked from the outside?
You snort quietly to yourself, the thought making your lips curl. What a ridiculous metaphor. But then again, you've been living inside one long, drawn-out metaphor for months now.
"I think he's talking to you," your classmate beside you whispers, nudging your arm.
You finally glance up, slowly, turning your head toward the group. The guy across the table—one of your assigned groupmates, name forgotten—stares at you with thinly veiled irritation, clearly waiting.
Your eyes shift lazily to the book he's pointing at on the next table, then just as quickly, return your focus to your nails. You study the shimmer of the topcoat, the slight chip on your thumb, the way the light catches at the curve of your cuticle like it deserves more attention than the boy sitting across from you.
"No," you say, voice flat, disinterested, unapologetically dismissive. "Get it yourself."
You don't even look at him when he tenses. "Bitch," he mutters under his breath, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to pretend it was an accident. He stands up with more aggression than necessary, his chair scraping the floor as he strides toward the book and snatches it up from beside you. The motion sends a wave of his scent into the air, unrefined, bitter, and arrogant. The kind of pheromones that announce a need for dominance rather than any actual strength.
You sniff, subtly, wrinkling your nose at the pungent trail left in his wake. You press your lips together in annoyance, roll your eyes, and lean further back into your seat. Across the table, the other Omegas in your group shift in their seats, instinctively straightening their spines, adjusting their posture, some avoiding eye contact altogether.
You sigh through your nose, blowing lightly on your nails to dry them, annoyed by the way his pheromones cling to the air like spoiled cologne.
Geez. Alphas and their fucking pheromones. Always so loud, so desperate to remind everyone who and what they are. Like the rest of you couldn't already tell the second they entered a room—the posturing, the tone, the overconfident glances, and worst of all, the way their scent fills up the space without permission.
The air still feels saturated when the guy flops back into his seat, smug, clearly thinking he's made a point, display of Alpha irritation.
"Contain your pheromones," a voice says, "or leave."
Heads turn. Your own heart skips in a way you hate to admit, and when you look up, Jay is already staring—his eyes hard, fixed on the Alpha who had just returned to his seat.
The boy shifts, clearly startled by the sudden command, shoulders stiffening as he mutters a quiet "Sorry," and adjusts his seat, shrinking ever so slightly, signal that he knows his place in this moment. He won't challenge it.
You don't know the mechanics of how Alphas seem to instinctively understand where they fall in the unspoken hierarchy of power, how one look or tone can be enough to force silence from someone who just seconds ago thought they were the loudest voice in the room. And Jay didn't raise his voice. He didn't bare teeth. He didn't do anything except exist in that moment with enough intensity to silence another Alpha without breaking a sweat.
Your Omega, which has been stubbornly quiet ever since you promised yourself to stop chasing him, curls subtly inside you. As if it remembered something you've spent days trying to forget. As if it's reminding you that no matter how cold his words were last time, no matter how many days you spent replaying them in your head until they broke you down—he still has that effect on you.
You mentally curse yourself for letting it happen, for giving him that piece of your attention again over something so minimal. He didn't even do it for you. You sit through the rest of the group meeting in silence, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes on the clock instead of the people around you. You just want to finish this, get out, and focus on the rest of your day—the things that don't involve Jay or his infuriating gravity.
At the end of the meeting, Jay stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his tone cool and clipped as always. "I'll be sending a link to our group chat. Check it regularly. I'll monitor your progress there. Meeting dismissed. I hope you all play your parts well."
You're already halfway out of your seat, eager to breathe air that doesn't smell like Alpha ego or quiet tension. You gather your things, mentally going over your to-do list. But then, just as you're zipping your bag shut, you feel a presence behind you. A very specific one.
Your shoulders freeze. "Huh?" The sound escapes you as you turn—and there he is. Jay. Standing directly in front of you. Towering, and composed. And despite everything, your stupid heart does that ridiculous flutter. Worse, your Omega purrs at the nearness of him, curling up.
Shut up, you scream at yourself internally.
"Your number," he says flatly.
You blink. "My what?"
"Your number," he repeats, irritation edging into his voice. "Everyone else wrote theirs down. You didn't. You were too busy with your nails."
Ouch. Wordless, you take the phone he's holding out to you. Your nails click sharply against the screen as you type the digits in without looking at him, hit save, and hand the phone back in one clean motion.
And then you're gone. You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and walk. Stupid. Stupid feelings. Stupid Omega being submissive at a single glance like a lovesick fool.
You manage to avoid Jay at least as much as someone can when stuck in the same group project. As long as you submit your parts on time, follow whatever standards he insists on, and keep your head down, you figure you can survive the rest of the semester with your pride mostly intact.
Still, that doesn't mean you don't notice him. It's impossible not to. Jay is effortlessly composed when he works, all clean lines and focus, voice low but commanding in the way that makes people listen without question. It makes you roll your eyes every time one of the other Omegas in your group drifts closer than necessary, pretending they need him to review something just for a whiff of his scent.
You watch it all unfold from your seat—one girl biting her lip, leaning over the table, another brushing her fingers too close to his. You can see what they're doing from a mile away.
Pathetic, you think, scoffing silently. Why isn't he cold to them? Why does he let them stay close, speak freely, like he's not made of ice and silence? When you tried—when you pushed just a little closer—he burned you for it.
It's not fair. But fine. Whatever. You keep walking like it doesn't bother you, like you've got better things to think about than Jay and the unfair softness he shows to people who aren't you.
You're halfway down the hall between classes when Yeonjun spots you. He slings an arm across your shoulder like you're best friends. "What happened between you and Jay?" he asks, almost sing-song. "It's kind of sudden, you know? You two went from talking all the time to... nothing."
You roll your eyes and shrug his arm off, but he only cackles and throws it right back around you, dragging you a little closer as you walk. "Come on," he prods. "Tell me. Did you break up or something?"
"First of all, fuck off," you mutter, elbowing him in the side. "We weren't a thing to begin with. I just figured out that maybe he doesn't like company, so... friendship over." The words sting especially when you remember exactly what Jay said that day. "We're not even friends."
Yeonjun winces dramatically. "Yooo, that's brutal. And here I thought you had someone lined up for your next heat."
You whirl on him, scandalized. "Stop talking about my heat!"
He laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. "I know I get moody during pre-heat, okay?" you continue, huffing as your steps grow heavier. "I know I get annoying. Sorry if that's inconvenient for everyone." And just for emphasis, you stomp down hard on his foot.
He yelps. "Ow! Is that how you apologize?!"
You glare at him. "Bitch, these are Louboutins. Don't test me."
He gasps, stepping right back on your foot in retaliation. "Designer or not, that was uncalled for!"
You've managed to keep your mind light, your mood even lighter. You spent the afternoon giggling over new makeup releases and trying on three different outfits before settling on the one that made you feel just a little too confident. You even let one of your classmates borrow your Chanel perfume, the limited edition one that cost more than most people's weekly groceries. That alone says a lot about your good mood.
"This scent is so good! It's so long-lasting!" the girl gushes, practically bouncing in her seat as she sprays another generous mist onto her wrists and neck.
You wave your hand in front of your face, before turning back to your conversation with Ningning. She's already pulling up swatches of a new lipstick line, and you're halfway through deciding whether Burnt Rose or Peach Silk suits your skin tone more.
Until the moment Jay walks straight toward your table.
"Hey."
Your smile falters, but you hold your composure. Ningning immediately straightens, and you feel her pinch your leg under the table. You don't react. Instead, you retaliate with a subtle kick to her foot, keeping your expression as neutral as possible while turning your head slowly toward him. Jay stands there with one hand gripping the strap of his bag, his eyes fixed on you with that same expression he always wears, cool but unmistakably annoyed.
"W-What's up?" you ask, hoping your tone sounds casual even though your Omega is already squirming, stupidly alert under his gaze.
He narrows his eyes. "Where the hell did you get the source for your part of the group output?"
You blink. "Huh?"
Jay pulls out a folded printout and slaps it onto the table in front of you. You recognize your paragraph immediately—highlighted, annotated, and very, very questioned.
"That," he says, tapping the page, "reads like it was pulled from a blog post written in 2007."
You squint at it, leaning forward. "I mean... it's informative."
"Where did you get it?" he repeats, more firm this time.
You glance at Ningning, who looks like she's holding in a laugh, and then shrug a little, hoping the smile you offer is at least semi-charming.
"U-uh... Wikipedia?" Jay's expression goes flat. Like truly, utterly done-with-your-shit flat. You watch his jaw shift slightly before he inhales and exhales. "Are you kidding me?"
"I added bullet points?"
"I told everyone to use peer-reviewed journals."
"I thought Wikipedia was, like... collaborative academia?"
He gives you a look, the kind that doesn't even require words to communicate just how unimpressed he is. Then he scoffs. "Meet me at the library. 4:30," he says, already turning away. "You're going to repeat this shit."
Shit? What a mean guy! Jay is so mean!
When the time comes, you're at the library exactly at 4:27. You've changed into something a little more presentable. You even brought real sources this time: three articles you barely skimmed and one you printed just because it looked like it had graphs in it.
You walk toward the group study section, scanning the long tables until you see him—Jay, already seated, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, laptop open in front of him. One hand rests on the keyboard, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. You approach cautiously, pulling out the chair across from him. "Hi," you say, quietly. You sit down, trying to slide your printouts toward him.
He barely glances up. "Do you even know what the research topic is?"
You pause. "Media manipulation in digital spaces."
"What's your angle?"
You blink. "Angle?"
Jay leans back in his chair and exhales, clearly restraining himself from saying something cruel. He rubs his temple for a second, then looks at you fully. "I need you to actually try today," he says.
You nod, more serious now. "Okay. I'll try. I am trying."
He watches you for a moment longer, then gestures to your stack of papers. "Start by telling me why you picked those."
You look down at your papers and clear your throat, suddenly aware of how quiet the library is and how loud your pulse feels in your ears. "I thought the one with the graphs would impress you..."
Jay closes his eyes for a moment, not even sighing anymore, just exhaling through his nose like he's trying to summon patience from a part of himself that's already empty.
From there, the next hour becomes a slow kind of hell. Jay doesn't just skim your work or toss it aside. He makes you repeat it—all of it. Line by line, paragraph by paragraph. He makes you read it aloud, then explain what each section means in your own words. You try to follow, but his questions come fast and firm, drilling into the parts you only half-understood, peeling away the fluff you thought might pass.
And it becomes painfully clear, to both of you, that you don't know what the hell you're talking about.
You stammer your way through vague definitions, hope a few filler words will distract him, even throw in a shrug and a weak laugh at one point, but it's useless. His expression never changes. He just stares, waiting for a real answer that never comes.
It's not like you wanted to be useless. It's just—why does this topic have to be so soul-crushingly dull? Media manipulation in digital spaces? Who even cares? You'd rather re-organize your lipstick drawer alphabetically and by tone than sit through another journal article about algorithmic bias and digital literacy. And yeah, maybe you chose the wrong major. But still, it's not like you're trying to drag the group down on purpose.
Jay finally leans back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes still locked on you with that same, merciless calm. "I'm going to monitor your progress from now on," he says, "If you want to fail, that's your business. But don't take the group down with you."
You blink, stunned, not sure if you're more embarrassed or pissed. "Other people are working hard to get what they want. Be mindful of your attitude," he continues. "If I see you half-assing this again, I'll pull you out of the group myself."
You just sit there, mouth slightly open, because—what the actual fuck? There's a long pause as he packs his things neatly, methodically. And all you can think is: That was so hot.
God, you hate yourself. Because that shouldn't have been attractive. The tone, the authority, the focus, the absolute lack of patience for your bullshit—none of it should've made your heart flutter. And yet, there it is. That annoying, heavy thump in your chest, that quiet curl of heat in your stomach that says yes Alpha, scold me more, and you genuinely want to scream into your tote bag.
What the hell is wrong with you?! You glare at him as he pushes his chair back and stands up, towering over you.You used to like him? You wanted to bond with that?
He grabs his bag and walks off without another word, and you're left staring at his retreating back, jaw tight, fists clenched in your lap. What about what you want to have? What about your dreams? What about the fact that you're trying your best to live, breathe, and survive your academic burnout in peace?
AND YOU'RE starting to think Jay's entire academic mission in life is to personally destroy any shred of peace you have left. Maybe he's taken it upon himself to make sure you never get the luxury of coasting through college with eyeliner perfectly winged and notes scribbled in pink ink. Because every single time—every single fucking time—you submit something for the group work, he reads it, glances at you like you just personally offended the concept of intelligence, and hands it back with that cold expression that somehow hurts more than yelling ever could.
Jay leans back in his seat, flipping through the stapled pages you handed him five minutes ago. His jaw is tight, brows drawn as his eyes scan the words. You've already started chewing on the inside of your cheek, fingers tapping nervously against your notebook as you wait for the inevitable.
He exhales, and you already know what's coming. "Repeat this," he says, placing the papers in front of you. "Out loud. Paragraph one. Let's go."
You blink, confused. "You want me to read it?"
"No. I want you to explain it," he replies. "Read it out loud, then tell me what it means. If you can't even do that, what are we doing here?"
Your mouth opens, you lower your gaze and start reading, voice wobbling slightly as you stumble through your opening paragraph. It's not even bad writing—at least, not in your opinion—but when Jay stops you halfway through and points out a vague phrase, you already know you're in for another hour of this.
"What do you mean by 'societal shifts influence perception'?" he asks, eyes narrowing.
You blink. "Like... when society changes, people... think differently?"
Jay just stares, filled with judgment, as if he's holding back a lecture you probably deserve.
"Okay," you add quickly, trying to fix it. "I meant that media narratives change based on what society is focused on. Like trends. Or politics. Or cultural stuff—"
"You wrote that it influences perception subtly, not directly," he interrupts, "what evidence do you have for that claim?"
Your mouth opens again. Nothing. "If you're going to write like that, you need to know what you're saying. You don't write just to sound smart. You write to prove a point. Understand the difference."
Your face burns as the words hit. You look at him, then back at your paper, your throat tightening with a quiet mix of shame and frustration. Maybe you are the weakest link in the group. Maybe he's right to be this intense.
Still, your pride kicks in, even if it's bruised. "Fine," you mutter. "I'll fix it."
Jay doesn't say anything. He just nods once, and starts typing again on his laptop like he didn't just deliver a verbal slap to your ego. You stare at your paper, the corners slightly bent, the ink smudged near the margin where your hand had rested too long. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. You thought you were doing it right. You thought your revisions were enough. But every time you hand him a draft, he finds something else wrong with it. Too vague. Too shallow. Too casual. Then when you finally overcompensate and make it dense, academic, he tells you it's too overexplained. Redundant. Forced.
You're caught in a loop of not-good-enough, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get it right.
But the worst part is you still want to impress him. You still want him to look at something you've done and actually pause. To read your words and see you through them. Not just tolerate your work, not just skim it and correct it like it's another chore—see you. And maybe that's pathetic. Maybe that's your Omega talking again, that deep, aching need to be acknowledged, to be worthy.
So you double down. You study harder. You stay up late rereading articles, highlighting passages you barely understand but force yourself to analyze. You start drafting, rewriting, reformatting, again and again, until your vision blurs. You give up your free time, your peace, and slowly, without noticing, everything else begins to fall away.
You don't realize how long it's been since your last self-care day. How your perfectly manicured nails have started to chip around the edges, the gloss dulled and peeling. You can't remember the last time you joined Giselle and Ningning for a boba run, or went out shopping just to feel cute, or even indulged in a quiet, overpriced matcha latte while scrolling through lip gloss swatches and pretending your life was still soft and simple.
You've skipped parties. Canceled lunch dates with your girlfriends. You haven't even opened that package of new lashes you ordered two weeks ago.
You're too busy chasing a moving target. One that wears black sweaters and critiques your grammar. Your planner is full of deadlines and corrections now. Your lipstick is worn off by mid-afternoon. Your back aches from sitting in stiff library chairs too long, trying to fix a sentence for the fifth time because Jay didn't like the way it sounded.
"Girl, I'm going to set a schedule later for my lashes and nails," Ningning announces cheerfully, flipping through her phone as you sit beside her in the campus café. "Want to join? Or are you too busy trying to impress Mr. Alpha again?"
She wiggles her eyebrows dramatically, and you let out a long, heavy sigh as you slump forward, resting your forehead against the edge of the table. The paper you've spent the past two nights slaving over lies flat in front of you—neatly printed, annotated with references. You've read it three times already and rechecked your citations. You even color-coded the margins for clarity, just in case Jay needs yet another excuse to nitpick.
"I'm satisfied with this," you murmur, voice muffled against the table. "This time, it's solid. No room for criticism. I met every single one of his standards. I even used academic journals and added a transitional thesis. If he questions me again, I'm ready to defend it like my life depends on it."
Ningning raises an impressed brow. "Well, goodluck, babe." You lift your head slowly, exhaling as if you've run a marathon. "Thanks."
She grins and reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. "Okay, good. Because once this is over, you're coming with me. Nail care, hand massage, and I'm thinking a soft almond-shaped acrylic set for both of us. I'll send my inspo to your messages, and we can hit the spa together. Maybe swing by Dior? Just a quick peek."
The moment she says it, something in you lifts. "Count me in," you say, finally smiling. "Full hand care, nails, the works. I'm thinking soft chrome this time. I'll send you the mood board later."
Ningning lets out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands in excitement. "Thank you, God! She's back! You finally have time for yourself again!"
You laugh, the kind of laugh that feels real after so many tense days. "So... does that mean I'm allowed to come to the party tomorrow night?"
Her eyes widen. "Wait, what?! You're actually going?" You nod, biting your lip like the idea excites you more.
YOU CLUTCH your final draft in both hands as you make your way toward the library. Your mood is still high, the conversation with Ningning echoing in your mind. You can already feel the scent of the spa oils in your imagination, hear the bubbling jets of the foot bath, see the pale pink Dior bag swinging from your wrist.
You're ready for peace again. You enter the library and spot Jay at the usual table, eyes glued to his laptop as always. You walk over, straighten your shoulders, and place the paper gently in front of him. He glances at it, says nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, he picks it up and starts reading.
You sit across from him, waiting. Trying not to fidget. Trying not to let your nails dig into your palm when he pauses at paragraph three. He flips a page. Eyes narrow. Brows twitch. Then comes the inevitable—he looks up.
"This part here," he says, pointing to the section you rewrote three separate times, "it's too vague again. You're brushing over your argument. What do you actually mean here?"
You blink. "What?" you whisper.
He turns the page again. "And here, this is fine, but it's padded. Cut the filler. Focus on your point."
Your heart sinks. "You're kidding, right?"
Jay looks up, calm as ever. "This isn't clear enough to include in the final draft. You'll need to revise it again."
Something in you cracks. You don't say anything. You think about all the nights you stayed up rewriting that same paragraph. You think about how you skipped lunch three times this week to finish this stupid draft, how you canceled plans, missed parties, ignored calls, stopped living—just for this. Just to hear him say it was good enough.
You're just... tired. The kind of tired that isn't about sleep or stress, but about the feeling that you're endlessly reaching for something that keeps stepping back, just out of reach. You think about the spa day you promised yourself, the almond-shaped nails and soft chrome polish you were so excited to get. You think about that moment of stillness with Ningning, sipping boba and laughing like you didn't have the weight of someone's judgment pressed onto your shoulders. You think about Dior. About the party. And you feel it all slipping right through your fingers.
You exhale, and swallow the tightness building in your throat. "When do you need it?" you ask, your voice so small.
Jay doesn't look up from your paper, fingers flipping back to that same third paragraph. "Your part is the only one that still needs fixing," he says bluntly. "Everyone else is moving ahead with physical presentation prep. So fix this tonight and send it back by tomorrow."
That's it. No thank you. No acknowledgment of the effort you've already poured into it. Just another deadline, another reminder that nothing you do will ever be enough.
Fuck him. You sit up a little straighter, lips parting. "But I think I already did my part perfectly," you say, pointing to paragraph three.
"This?" he asks, tapping the paragraph with the back of his pen. "You think this is perfect?"
You don't answer. Because there's something in his voice that already tells you he disagrees, and he's not going to soften it for your sake.
"This isn't perfect," he continues. "This is surface-level observation dressed up with vague language and soft transitions. It sounds nice, sure, but it doesn't say anything."
Your lips press into a tight line, and your stomach knots. "You keep writing like you're trying to be liked instead of trying to prove a point," he goes on, relentless. "Academic work isn't about sounding pretty. It's about clarity, direction, precision. You can write circles around a subject and still say nothing."
You swallow hard, your hands tightening in your lap. "I spent hours on this," you murmur, eyes fixed on the paper. "I canceled everything today."
Jay doesn't blink. "Then you should've spent those hours understanding the material, not decorating it."
You flinch like he hit you. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. At the face you used to admire. The eyes you used to chase. The person you once thought you could belong to. Now all you see is a wall. Impenetrable. And your reflection on the other side, small and shrinking.
You glance down without thinking, your gaze drawn to your hands resting tensely on the edge of the table. Your fingertips are trembling, knuckles pale from how tightly you've been pressing them together. Your leg is bouncing under the table, nervous energy you didn't notice until now. And then—you feel it. A sharp snap. You blink.
Your pointer finger.
One of your nails has cracked. A clean break down the middle, right through the glossy polish you barely had time to care for in the last two weeks. It shouldn't matter. It's a nail. But it feels like the last thing keeping you together just gave out. The smallest fracture, and suddenly the whole image starts to crumble.
"I—" you start, voice rough in your throat. You lift your hand slowly, staring at the cracked nail.
Jay looks up. "I'm leaving the group," you say, the words escaping, not with anger, not even with emotion. Just exhaustion. He doesn't speak right away. Maybe he's surprised, or maybe he simply doesn't care. You wouldn't know. You're not looking at his face anymore.
"I'll tell the professor," you add, folding your papers neatly with hands that feel numb. "You can find someone better to work with. Someone who actually knows what they're doing."
Jay's lips part slightly, you tuck your papers into your folder with care, as if this small act of order will keep you from unraveling completely. And then you push your chair back, rising to your feet.
You sniffle softly, and the sound makes your chest burn with embarrassment. The worst part isn't the tears welling in your eyes or the sting of your pride cracking—it's the scent. The way your distress pheromones are seeping out of you, so bitter, practically painting the air with your emotions. You hate it. You hate how it betrays you, how it clings to your skin and floats around you, a silent broadcast to any Alpha nearby that something is wrong, that you are fragile.
You quicken your steps, head down, trying not to let anyone see your face. You need to get out of here. Away from Jay. Away from everyone. You press your folder to your chest and move faster, your shoes echoing against the tile floors of the hallway. You're hyperaware of your scent, how sharp it is, and how it must be overwhelming for anyone in a ten-foot radius. It's humiliating. You feel exposed, like every nerve is on fire and there's nowhere safe to hide.
Fuck being an Omega. You clench your jaw, pushing the thought down, but it bubbles up again. Fuck this life. You didn't ask for this. You didn't ask to be the one who spirals whenever something doesn't go right, whose emotions get turned into a scent that others can detect before you even process how you feel. You didn't ask to be born into a dynamic where every misstep is amplified by your biology. You didn't ask to be someone whose sadness inconveniences people, whose mere presence becomes a disruption the moment her emotions are too loud.
You wipe your cheeks aggressively with the back of your hand, smearing whatever's left of your concealer, your eyes stinging as the tears you've been holding in finally break free. You keep walking, cutting through unfamiliar halls, your mind racing, heart hammering. You don't care where you're going, you just need to not be seen.
It hits you again—most Omegas your age are already bonded. Already paired off with their perfect, compatible Alpha. They have someone who wants them. Someone who protects them, grounds them, holds them without flinching when their scent turns sour. And you? You're here. Unbonded. Unwanted.
You reach a quiet corner of campus, a dim side hallway near the back of the gym where no one usually lingers. Your eyes fall on the row of lockers near the old changing room, and without thinking, you grab one. It creaks open under your hand, the inside barely wide enough for a person. But you don't care, you step inside, shoulders hunching as you pull the door halfway shut behind you. It's cramped and it smells faintly like dust and old sweat, and it's hidden.
You press your forehead against the cool wall, you bite down on your lower lip, hard, trying to silence the sound rising in your throat, trying to muffle the sob you know is coming. You have to control it. You have to stop the pheromones from leaking further into the air, because no Alpha wants to smell this.
No Alpha would ever come to comfort this. Not yours, not anyone's. What Alpha wants an Omega who breaks down like this? Who can't even hold herself together over something as stupid as a paper? Who spirals at a cold tone and a red mark on the margin? Who loses control of her scent like a teenager going through her first heat?
You sob quietly at first, trembling fingers rising to your face to hide it even though there's no one around. Then your gaze drops, landing on your hands—your once-manicured, carefully polished hands. And there it is.
The crack in your nail. The one you tried to ignore. The chip in the gloss. The way it's uneven now. Ugly. You stare at it, and your bottom lip begins to tremble. "My nails," you choke out, the words wet and shaky. "My nails..."
Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling with jagged movements as another sob claws its way up and escapes. You curl your body tighter inside the narrow locker, arms wrapped around your legs now, your head resting against your knees as your chest heaves and your sobs grow louder. The scent of your distress is suffocating, shameful, but still safer than being seen. You let it pour out of you because at least here, you thought you could fall apart alone.
Then suddenly, you feel it—the shift of air, the creak of the locker door being pulled open. Light spills in, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, your sobs not stopping even when your safe space is breached.
"Stop it," comes a voice, low, gritted and breathless.
You flinch at the sound, your face still buried against your knees. "Go away!" you cry out, voice high and strangled. "Just leave me alone!" Your hands grip tighter around your legs, nails digging into your skin, but it's not enough to ground you. This was your only escape, the one place you could cry without shame, without someone telling you to quiet down or keep your scent in check. And of all the people who could've found you, it had to be him. Of course it had to be him.
"I hate you!" you scream through a sob, full of weeks of silence, stress, disappointment, and aching humiliation. "I hate you, I hate you—"
"Stop it," Jay says again, but this time, his voice sounds different. It is strained. You still don't look up. You shake harder, body trembling with every breath that fights to escape, until—
"Stop crying," he says again. His voice is breaking, it is desperate. "P-Please. Stop. Just—stop."
You feel him kneel in front of you, his shadow cutting into the narrow locker space, and that's when you finally glance up through tear-blurred eyes. Jay is there, crouched low, his breathing uneven. His forehead is damp with sweat, his jaw clenched tight like he's in pain. There's a rawness in his eyes you've never seen before, and behind the sharp lines of his face, there's some physical strain. He presses a hand to his chest as if it aches. The muscles in his neck twitch, his skin looks pale beneath the lights, and there's a faint tremble in his hand as it rests on the locker door.
"You're—" he stops, swallowing hard, brows furrowing like the pain just spiked. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, okay?" he repeats. He inches forward, his hand reaching out slowly, fingers tentative as they move toward yours.
You flinch. Before his skin can touch yours, you tug your hand away, clutching it tight to your chest as if his apology might burn you. You're still crying, your soft eyes red-rimmed, lashes clumped together with tears, and yet somehow still full of that hurt that makes you look even smaller. Cracked open, and trying so hard to hold yourself together in front of the person who shattered you. Jay's hand lingers in the space between you, suspended there, unsure of where to land. "Stop crying," he says quietly. "Please."
Your shoulders still tremble, your sobs haven't stopped, and when you sniff hard, trying to pull yourself together, it only makes the moment more pitiful. You lift the back of your hand to your face and wipe at your running nose, eyes still wet and red, cheeks stained with salt.
You hiccup slightly before whispering, "M-My nails."
Jay blinks, startled, his eyes flickering down as you lift your fingers toward him. Your hand is shaking as you hold it in the air, palm open, fingers spread, showing him the chipped polish and cracked tips, the ruined manicure you once wore so proudly.
"Do you know," you begin, voice catching, "that a lot of Omegas cut their nails short? On purpose? Because they don't want to hurt their Alpha during bonding? Or during... during anything."
You trail off, your throat tightening as you look down at your nails again. "I've never done that. I've never had to. I've never had someone to protect or to protect me. I don't have an Alpha. That's why I love doing my nails." You swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. "I design them because it makes me feel special. It makes me feel pretty. It's the only thing that makes other Omegas jealous when they look at me. Not because I'm bonded, or claimed, or loved... but because at least I had this. At least I had something."
Your voice breaks again, and you curl your fingers into your palm, slowly lowering your hand as your gaze drops to the floor.
"But now even that is broken." The words fall from your lips and it all comes rushing back. You're back to sobbing, your scent blooms again.
Jay flinches. He physically recoils for half a second as the weight of your distress crashes over him. His jaw clenches hard, his hand bracing against the wall as he sucks in a breath through his nose. The pressure in his head spikes, a dull, piercing throb that radiates behind his eyes. His chest aches—not emotionally, but physically. A deep, pulsing pain that makes it hard to breathe. His Alpha is reacting, rising to the surface.
Jay's never been overwhelmed like this, not by scent, not by an Omega's emotions. But your cries; they're hurting him. Not in the way he can brush off or rationalize. His Alpha instincts roar, screaming at him to do something. To calm you. To fix it. To soothe. And he doesn't understand why. Why you? Why now. Why does your sorrow feel like it's shattering something inside him?
He presses a hand to his chest, wincing at the tightness blooming there. "I'm sorry," he says again, more firmly now, trying to reach you. "I'm sorry."
He moves toward you without thinking this time, and when he reaches out, you don't pull away. You don't flinch or snap at him like before. You let your weight fall against him, and he catches you with arms that are hesitant but firm.
He wraps them around you carefully. One hand at your back, the other gently settling at your shoulder. You press your face into the curve of his neck, sobs still shaking through you, but not with the same violence. You're exhausted now, and it spills out in softer, helpless trembles.
"You're so mean," you whisper between gasps, your small fists thumping once, twice against his chest. The hits are weak. You don't push him away, you just cry harder, your fingers curling into his shirt as the last of your composure crumbles.
Jay closes his eyes tightly, his throat working around the lump that's formed there. His arms draw in more, and his scent changes with soft, warm and calming. He doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, the slow flood of pheromones wrapping around you as his Alpha tries to soothe you the only way it knows how.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs again, as his hand moves slowly up and down your back, matching the rhythm of your shuddering breaths.
You melt. There's no other word for it. The moment his scent hits you fully, your crying doesn't just slow, it stops. Your eyes are closed and your breathing has steadied. His scent is laced with a deeper musk only present when an Alpha's instinct is fully engaged presses through your senses. It's warm, subtly spiced, and just faintly sweet underneath. A scent that speaks of strength without force, safety.
Your Omega responds instantly. A soft, involuntary purr builds from deep within your chest. It's loud. Embarrassingly so. You freeze for a moment, cheeks flushed with the sudden realization but you don't pull away, because your Omega won't let you.
Jay doesn't say anything, doesn't even pull back. If anything, his arms around you tighten just slightly. He tilts his head down, his cheek brushing lightly against your hair as if to acknowledge the sound and accept it all the same.
⋮ ⌗ act five
YOU WERE officially presented as an Omega when you were ten years old. The ceremony was brief, celebrated with quiet tradition, and you remember thinking it didn't feel like the life-altering moment everyone made it out to be. It was just a title, a biological box that people were eager to check off. You didn't feel different. You didn't feel powerful or delicate or particularly wanted.
Your first heat came at sixteen, a little late, but still within the accepted margins of development. Everyone waited for the shift—the moment you'd become undeniably, instinctively desirable. The moment Alphas would take notice, the moment you'd feel the pull, the need, the overwhelming ache they all whispered about.
But when it happened... nothing did. There were Alphas, of course—ones who noticed the shift in your scent, who approached you cautiously, trying to offer comfort, trying to scent you. But nothing clicked. Their pheromones did nothing to you. You didn't feel warm or safe or bonded. You didn't even flinch.
Eventually, they stopped trying. Word spread quickly, as it always does. The strange Omega who doesn't respond. The one who doesn't purr, doesn't submit, doesn't bat their lashes when an Alpha walks by. "Difficult," they called you. "Hard to please." The kind of Omega Alphas would rather avoid than attempt to figure out.
You started to wonder if you'd been misclassified. Maybe you were a Beta. Maybe they'd gotten it wrong. After all, you didn't feel the way other Omegas did.
On some nights, when you were alone in bed staring up at the ceiling with your sheets pulled up to your chin, your mind would wander. You'd catch yourself imagining what kind of Alpha you would want if you were normal, if you were soft in the ways everyone expected you to be.
"What kind of Alpha do you want?" someone had asked you once, during a sleepover.
You remember blinking at the ceiling and whispering, "I don't know," but you did.
Maybe you'd want someone soft. Not weak, just gentle. An Alpha who didn't have to snarl to be heard, who didn't need to dominate a room to feel secure in his own presence. Someone with a good sense of humor, the kind of person who could laugh at himself without losing dignity. Someone charming, not in a sleazy way, but a smile that made you forget how tired you were of pretending.
You imagined he'd be kind. Someone who could calm you with words instead of scent, who didn't see your guarded heart as a problem to fix but a treasure to earn. An Alpha who wouldn't expect you to kneel just because biology said you should, but one who would offer his hand and wait patiently until you wanted to take it.
In your mind, his face was always beautiful. Sharp cheekbones softened by expression, a strong jaw. Preferably someone with a dimple that appeared only when he laughed, and cat-like eyes that could read yours too well.
That was the Alpha you wanted.
But Jay is not soft, not sweet, not patient, and certainly not kind.
And yet, here you are—sitting in a plush pink chair at your favorite nail salon, eyes still swollen from crying, hands resting in warm water as your nail designer hums a gentle tune while prepping your cuticles. Jay is standing outside the glass wall of the shop, leaning against the brick exterior with his phone in one hand, glancing at you every few minutes like he's checking if you've calmed down enough to run again.
The nail designer glances up at you with a teasing smile, she tilts her head toward the window. "Is that your Alpha outside?"
You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Jay. His brows are slightly furrowed as he scrolls through his phone.
You let out a sound that's part laugh, part exhausted exhale, and shake your head slowly. "No," you murmur, voice rough from all the crying. "Just the one paying."
"Ohhhh," she says with a gasp, eyes twinkling with amusement as she resumes working on your fingers. "That's new."
You blink at her. "What is?"
She chuckles softly as she buffs the surface of your cracked nail, now softened and prepped for a fresh layer of polish. "It's rare for an Omega to come in for nails, you know. Especially without a bond. Most of them don't bother once they've settled, or their Alpha handles appointments for practicality. But when they do come in?" She leans in with a whispery grin. "The Alphas don't wait outside. They call. Bark orders. Or sit inside and stare at the clock. I barely get through the second coat before they're knocking on the door asking how much longer."
You glance toward the window again. Jay is still there. Same position, same scowl, waiting.
"And when that happens," the designer continues, blowing gently over your fingertips, "I get a heads-up from the customer to charge three hundred dollars instead of sixty."
You blink. "What?"
She giggles. "Because they don't ask. They just pay." She shrugs, placing a gentle fingertip under your wrist to turn your hand slightly. "But yours? He handed the card over and even said to 'fix it properly,' and then waited outside."
You glance at the window again. Jay is still there, standing beneath the soft golden hue of the salon's lights bleeding through the glass. There's no sign of impatience in his posture, no fidgeting, no checking the time on his phone.
"He's not my Alpha," you reply, eyes on him.
A sudden spark of lights behind your eyes, paired with a smile that starts curling at the corner of your mouth.
"I'd like to change the design of my nails, please," you say, turning back to the nail artist, eyes gleaming.
"Oh?" she blinks. "I though we're just going to fix your nails?"
You simply shake your head and pull up a new image on your phone. "Not anymore."
You show her a new set: longer tips, alternating pink and pale green, soft chrome underlay, two nails with tiny gold foil hearts, and the rest glazed with a delicate sparkle that catches the light like fairy dust.
It takes longer than it should. And you don't care one bit. You hum along to the salon music, giggle when the tech turns your hand to show you the finished look, and snap a picture to send to Ningning.
By the time you push the door open, the sky has started to shift into sunset. The second you step out, you flex your fingers in front of you with delight, admiring the glossy finish and gold flecks. You're practically glowing.
Jay looks up from his phone. "You said you were just going to get it fixed," he says, his voice low, but not hard, not annoyed.
You glance at him and catch the way his gaze lingers on your hands. His eyes move slowly, following the way your fingers fan in the air. And though his expression doesn't give much away, you feel it: the attention, the awareness.
"My natural nails were showing," you say with a casual shrug, the corners of your lips lifting. "So I decided to get a new design."
You twirl your wrist once for emphasis, watching the gold hearts flash under the salon lights now trailing out onto the pavement. "Aren't they cute?"
Jay doesn't respond immediately. His eyes are on your nails, then your face, then back to your nails again. His jaw shifts, like he's about to say something but it never comes.
Instead, he just says, after a beat, "Yeah."
You can't help it, your lips curve into a soft, delighted smile, and a giggle slips past your throat. The sound is light, genuine, your Omega responds instinctively, pleased by the subtle approval, the calm energy humming from him. A soft purr begins to rise in your chest.
Jay doesn't comment on it, but you notice the faint glance he casts your way, a quick flick of his eyes before he slides his phone into his pocket.
As the two of you walk down the sidewalk, when the pavement narrows, he moves slightly ahead of you, then subtly angles his body so you're walking on the inside, closer to the storefronts and farther from the road.
THE NEXT few days aren't as bad as you expected. It's just the relief of not having another academic interrogation session with Jay. You breathe easier. You don't flinch when your phone buzzes. You even start sleeping without checking the group chat at 4 A.M. for passive-aggressive updates.
But of course, that peace doesn't last.
Because right when you've settled into the comfort of thinking maybe you're out of this, Jay appears again dropping a printed sheet onto your desk without so much as a warning.
You stare down at the familiar format, your section highlighted in faded yellow, some of it annotated in his godawful sharp handwriting. Your brow twitches, your mouth falls slightly open.
"I said I left the group," you snap, glaring up at him with disbelief. "I told you. I'm not doing this."
Jay doesn't blink. "I'm the group leader. You don't get to decide that."
Your jaw clenches. "Are you serious right now?"
"The presentation's in less than a week," he says. "If you want to walk out after that, go ahead. But until then? You're still on the list."
You huff, slamming the paper onto the table with far more drama than necessary. Still, he's not being cruel. Not sarcastic. Just... irritatingly direct. Which, honestly, is worse in some ways. At least when he was mean, you could hate him without confusion.
You cancel another hangout, another meeting gets scheduled. You text your friends a dozen half-bitter emojis and a fake promise to reschedule, then you drag yourself back to that too-bright room with its flickering ceiling light and cold whiteboard.
And there he is.
Jay. Seated at the far end of the table, flipping through slides and adjusting his notes. But what makes it worse—so much worse—is what you see next.
Two Omegas from another department are seated nearby, whispering with smiles on their lips, occasionally leaning closer to Jay's side of the table. One of them flips her hair unnecessarily, another giggles at something he mutters. And the worst part? He lets them.
He talks back. Calm and patient, not once does he snap or look annoyed. When one of them asks for help adjusting her outline, he glances at it and actually helps her—politely.
You fold your arms tightly across your chest and glare holes into the edge of the desk. He's so relaxed. So damn calm. When he corrects them, his tone is gentle.
What about you? Where was that gentleness for you? Why didn't he speak like that when you were trying?
If you hadn't cried... would he have ever treated you differently?
"The meeting hasn't even started and you're already having another mood up," Jay says, sliding into the seat beside you.
You don't look at him. Instead, you roll your eyes and flip your hair over your shoulder, pretending to focus on your untouched notes while your fingers drum silently on the table.
"Maybe don't take it personally," you say coolly, keeping your gaze forward. "I have moods without your help, thanks."
He makes a sound—half a scoff, half a hum—and leans back in his chair, one leg stretched out a little too far beneath the table, invading your space.
You huff, snapping your gaze toward him. "Why are you even here, anyway?" Your voice is sharp with irritation, your hand rising instinctively to push against his arm in a shooing gesture. "Go sit somewhere else. Far from me."
Your fingers press lightly to his shoulder, trying to shove him away with far less force than your words imply but of course, he doesn't move an inch. Jay stays firmly planted in his seat, turning his head slowly toward you.
"This is my seat," he says, tone unbothered. "And I'm the group leader."
He gestures vaguely toward the front of the room, where a few other group members are still settling in, some half-glancing your way with interest, clearly sensing the tension as it builds, again, between the two of you.
"So?" you snap, turning to glare at him again. "I don't care. Go sit somewhere else."
Jay doesn't even flinch. He just lifts one shoulder in the barest shrug, as if your words were nothing more than background noise, and proceeds to adjust his laptop and flip open his folder.
You scoff loudly, dramatic on purpose, making sure it carries across the room. But of course, it gets you nowhere. Jay begins the meeting laying out the agenda.
You lean back in your seat, annoyed and done with pretending to care. You don't hear a word of what he's saying. Instead, you pop open your notebook and flip to a blank page, yanking a glittery pen from your pouch. You start doodling out of habit—little flowers, cartoon hearts, bunny ears, some sparkles near the corners.
Your pen drifts to the center of the page, and you write your name in big, curly letters. You add hearts around it. A tiny tiara on top. You smile softly to yourself.
Almost without thinking, your hand moves again.
You write his name. Park Jongseong
Small. Lower than yours. Your pen pauses.
Then you grin. You begin crossing out the common letters between your name and his, counting the ones that remain.
You mutter under your breath, "F... L... A... M... E... S..."
Your pulse quickens as you count through the acronym, matching the number of leftover letters.
And then you land on it.
L- Lovers.
Heat rushes into your cheeks, flooding your face, suddenly horrified at your own middle-school-level behavior.
You quickly scratch a line through the whole thing, snapping the notebook closed. Jay turns his head toward you, his eyes narrow faintly. You roll your eyes immediately, slouching down in your seat and pretending nothing happened, praying your scent doesn't betray the flush still prickling your skin.
He watches you for another second, eyes narrowing slightly like he's almost figured it out—then turns back to the group, resuming the discussion without a word.
Lovers. Well, you hate that idea.
⋮ ⌗ act six
YOU DON'T even know how it got to this point. How your days used to be peaceful without his presence, and now every hour near him feels like a quiet war between your pride and your Omega instincts.
Yes, your Omega purrs when he's close. Yes, there's a pull you feel in your chest that doesn't seem to respond to reason. That strange heat low in your belly, the calm that settles around you every time his scent brushes past your skin—it's all real. And yes, part of you feels it might be bond. That terrifying, delicate whisper of compatibility.
But you will never forget how he treated you. How he made you feel small and stupid. How he picked apart your efforts like they were inconveniences. How he barely looked at you unless you were crying or crumbling. You try to remind yourself of all of that now, as you sit at the edge of the room, your leg bouncing, compact mirror in one hand, lip gloss in the other. But it's hard—so hard—when you look up and see him.
Jay. His hair is slicked back neatly, exposing that unfairly sculpted face, those sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. His glasses sit low on his nose, and he pushes them up with two fingers—the same fingers you just found yourself staring at for far too long. They're long, veined, strong. So sexy.
You glare at your mirror, annoyed with your reflection. Screw your Omega for having such high standards. Selective, sensitive, spoiled instincts—and it chooses him? Of course it does!
You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, trying to look casual, pretending you're just focused on your appearance. But your Omega shifts restlessly beneath your skin, picking up on the subtle stress in the room. You're not the only one reacting—other Omegas are nervous, too. Their scent clouds the air, full of unease. It's enough to make your skin twitch.
That's why the professors decided to separate the rooms. Alphas in one, Omegas and Betas in another. It was supposed to make things more manageable. Less hormonal mess. But it doesn't stop the other Omegas from eyeing Jay as he passes through the door.
You watch as two of them flutter their lashes, practically sighing in his direction. Like they think he'll turn and offer them some comforting word. Maybe a calming touch. You snort under your breath and roll your eyes, brushing a fleck of highlighter from the corner of your cheek. Heh. Do they expect him to soothe them? Not a chance.
"Can you all calm your fuck-ass selves down? Geez, it smells so weird in here." You mutter under your breath, wrinkling your nose in full disgust as the wave of distress pheromones builds again around the room. It's a mix of nervousness and poorly concealed anxiety and it's ruining your makeup mood. With a sigh, you grab your perfume bottle from your bag and spritz it into the air.
You roll your eyes again when another Omega releases a second burst of distressed pheromones. It's always the same ones too—biting their nails, fanning themselves, looking around like an Alpha is going to walk in and magically tell them everything's fine. You pull your collar slightly up, shielding your nose, and shake your head.
You decide to tune out, popping your phone out to scroll through your gallery, pretending you're anywhere but here. You check your reflection in the black screen, turn the camera on just to make sure your eyeliner hasn't smudged, then swipe open your beauty folder to admire the selfie you took yesterday with your freshly done nails. That alone settles you better than any scent could.
Another minute ticks by. You sigh and fish out your compact mirror again, tapping a bit of powder under your eyes, then dabbing a blush-tinted balm across your cheeks. A slick of gloss on your lips finishes the look, and you smile at yourself.
But when you begin to organize your bag—tucking your phone into its pocket, snapping your powder closed—you pause.
Then freeze. Your fingers sift through the bag again, more urgently this time. Compact, wallet, charger, lip tint, another gloss, perfume bottle, travel brush...
Your heart starts to beat faster. No. Your hand dives deeper, digging through the small pocket, then the zipper compartment. You pull everything out and lay it on the table in front of you.
The one Ningning gave you for your birthday. The one that matches your current nail design. The one you literally wore this morning.
"Fuck," you whisper, eyes wide, chest tightening. You pat your head, your pockets, your bag again, but it's not there.
The air shifts. Your scent, which had been calm and delicately sweet with your perfume, now spikes full of frustration and distress.
"Hey, are you okay?" one of the Beta boys beside you asks cautiously, his brow furrowed as he catches the sudden change in your scent. "Are you nervous?"
"No," you snap, still rummaging through your bag, tossing a pen and your lip gloss back into it with force. "Fuck off."
The Beta holds his hands up, muttering, "Okay, damn," before sliding his chair just slightly away from you.
"Did someone see my baby blue ribbon hair clip?!" you call out, a little louder now, nearly breathless as you look around the room, eyes scanning every desk, every chair, every bag.
"H-Hey, calm down," one of the nearby Omegas says gently, reaching out with an awkward hand, trying to soothe. But the second her fingers brush your arm, you slap her hand away without thinking, eyes wild and furious.
"Shut up!" you snap, voice cracking. "Don't fucking tell me to do shit!"
A wave of your scent bursts out. It was acidic with panic and anger. It's enough to make the others shift uncomfortably, their own scents flaring in reaction. You're frantic now, pacing the space between the tables, swiping aside books, opening bags that aren't yours before realizing what you're doing. Your hands tremble as you search under a desk, and when you straighten back up, your eyes are glassy. Your lower lip quivers, forming a tight, desperate pout.
You blink fast, but it's no use. The tears are there, threatening to spill.
The door suddenly opens, and Jay walks in with a bothered and confused in his eyes. Immediately, the room straightens. People hush. Even the air seems to still.
"What is happening?" he asks, brows furrowed as he takes sight of the room, the overturned bags, the tension heavy in the air and then his eyes land on you.
You unraveling, being frantic, teetering.
He strides toward you, cutting through the space between tables. Without hesitation, his hands find your shoulders softly. You blink up at him, trying to bite down on your emotions, but your throat tightens further under the weight of his presence. His brows draw in closer when he sees your expression—your glossy eyes, your flushed cheeks, your trembling mouth.
"M-my clip is m-missing," you whisper, barely holding your voice together. "The Flower Knows one. The baby blue..."
You can't finish. Your chest heaves, a sob barely swallowed down. You try to inhale sharply through your nose, but it only floods you with more of your distress. Jay closes his eyes, jaw tight as he rubs a hand down his face in exasperation at the spiral you're falling into. His Alpha is reacting instantly, tension building in his shoulders, his posture coiled with the weight of your unfiltered panic.
He opens his eyes again and looks down at you. "You're this worked up over a clip?"
You nod, a tiny motion, but desperate. "It's not just a clip. It's mine. Ningning gave it to me. I wore it today. I—I need it."
Jay breathes out through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly as he processes the full weight of your panic. Without another word, he turns his head sharply to the room.
"Everyone," he says, commanding. "Stop what you're doing and check around your desks. Bags, floor, jackets—everything."
No one speaks. No one even thinks about arguing. The entire room shifts, heads ducking, hands moving, chairs scraping quietly as people begin to search exactly where he told them to. Jay's hands slide down from your shoulders, and he moves beside you, quietly steering you toward the hallway. His hand stays on the small of your back, anchoring you as he leads you out of the overwhelming scent-thick room.
Outside, the air is cooler. The moment you're free of the enclosed space, you feel your body tremble in a release of breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Jay steps in front of you, hands still light but steady on your arms, you feel his scent shift, soothing, that that makes your Omega instincts sigh from under the anxiety.
"God," he breathes out, more to himself than to you, pressing his palm briefly over his forehead before it drops to your back again. "I thought something actually happened to you."
Your forehead drop into his shoulder, your face burying in the soft cotton of his shirt, the scent of him wrapping around you. He sighs again, hand moving in slow, steady circles along your spine.
"You need to stop crying," he murmurs into your hair, trying to sound stern, but it comes out gentler than it should. He pauses, lets out another breath. "You're going to short-circuit every Alpha in the building with your pheromones."
"I need my hair clip," you say into his shoulder, voice muffled, watery, and heavy with emotion. "It was the only thing that made me feel pretty today."
Jay's hand stills on your back. He doesn't say anything at first, like he's trying to figure out what to do with that sentence.
Finally, he moves again. "We're going to find your hair clip," he says. "Just... stop throwing tantrums."
One thing's for sure, Jay is exhausted. You can see it in the tension in his shoulders, the faint crease between his brows, the sighs he thinks you don't hear. He's tired of your tantrums, your attitude, your dramatics, your endless emotions.
You don't have the energy to question it anymore—why he's the one calming you down, why his presence, of all people, is what your Omega keeps clinging to. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.
The rest of the day passes in a dull, gray blur. Your clip was never found. Your mood tanked. The presentation came and went, and you barely remember how you spoke or whether your words even made sense. You didn't shine. You didn't sparkle. You didn't even get a single compliment on your outfit, and by now, you're convinced your eyeliner is probably smudged beyond repair.
You expect it—Jay's frustration. You've seen it before. You're braced for the moment he corners you, arms crossed, brows furrowed, ready to lay into you with that cold, composed tone that always makes you feel twelve years old and three inches tall.
But it never comes.
You're sitting alone on the back stairs behind the building, eyes unfocused, arms draped over your knees, the wind ruffling your hair slightly as you stare into nothing. You've taken off your shoes, letting the cool stone press against your heels. Your bag is a mess. Your gloss is gone. Your scent, now flat and dulled by defeat, barely lingers in the air.
Jay appears beside you, quiet as ever, lowering himself onto the step next to you. He doesn't speak at first, doesn't sigh or scold or even look at you. Just sits.
You blink and glance sideways, lips parting to speak. "I know I messed up my part," you say quietly. "I already told you I'm sorry. No need to make me feel this bad—"
"I found your clip."
You blink. Jay pulls something out from his coat pocket. A small baby blue satin with gold trim and a little flower-shaped crystal that glitters in the soft light. "I went back to the hallway after the rooms were cleared," he says, tone casual, almost bored. He sets it in your hand.
You stare down at it, fingers curling slowly around the familiar shape. Your vision blurs instantly. "You—" your voice cracks, and you clear your throat, trying to hold it together. "You really went back for it?"
Jay leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed ahead. "I figured if I didn't, you'd tear down the whole school."
You burst into laughter and then, just as quickly, into tears. Before you can stop yourself, your body moves on its own, throwing itself into him with a weight that startles even you. Your arms wrap around his middle, face pressing into the side of his chest as another wave of laughter and tears shakes through you.
You can feel the tension ripple through him, every muscle going stiff like he wasn't built for this kind of contact. He lets out a long, quiet sigh, and then his arms slowly move. One drapes around your shoulders with hesitation, the other lifts awkwardly before landing a stiff, uncertain pat on your back.
It's the most awkward hug in the universe.
Your tears are light, your Omega purrs radiates through your skin. The air shifts, your scent changes into soft and sweet wrapping around the both of you.
Jay breathes it in and his body instantly relaxes, just a little. He just sits there, letting you sob against him while your Omega hums in contentment, pleased that—for once—it wasn't wrong about him.
He's still not the Alpha you dreamed of. He's cold, awkwad and complicated. But, you think... he's okay?
⋮ ⌗ act seven
"HE definitely likes you."
You roll your eyes at Ningning's voice as you carefully curl your lashes in front of the mirror in the girls' comfort room. You keep your focus steady on your reflection, refusing to acknowledge the glint of mischief in your best friend's eyes.
"If I were still the delusional girl I used to be," you mutter, lashes releasing from the curler, "then maybe I'd let myself believe that."
Ningning lets out a dramatic huff from where she's leaning against the sink, arms crossed but clearly enjoying this more than she should. "Come on! Even Giselle agrees now—and you know she's allergic to optimism."
You don't answer. Instead, you reach for your mascara, unscrewing the tube with steady fingers, and begin sweeping it through your lashes. You focus on each slow stroke, using the rhythm to drown out the flutter in your chest.
"Seriously," Ningning says, She leans closer against the counter beside you, folding her arms with that all-knowing gleam in her eye. "What type of Alpha would go out of his way to calm you down over a missing clip? A hair clip, girl. It's not like it was a life-or-death situation."
"It was a Flower Knows clip," you say, still brushing your lashes without missing a beat.
"Exactly," she deadpans, then scoffs. "A Flower Knows clip is like eight bucks. And you—Miss Chanel, Miss Limited Edition Lip Oil, Miss I Only Drink Matcha If It's Imported—you could replace that clip five times over."
You pause, blinking at your reflection. "He didn't have to find it," she continues. "But he did. He went back. He picked it up. He brought it to you, and you know Jay's not the type to do stuff like that. He barely blinks at people."
You glance sideways at her, lips twitching. "Maybe he just felt bad," you mutter, setting the mascara wand down. "Like that other time I cried in the gym and practically soaked his shirt. Maybe he just has a guilty conscience."
"Girl," Ningning groans, throwing her head back. "That man does not do things out of guilt. He does things because he means to. Jay isn't the type to play pretend. If he didn't want to deal with you, he wouldn't."
You fidget with your gloss now, unscrewing the cap but not applying it yet. Ningning steps in closer, placing both hands on your shoulders and spinning you gently toward her.
"Just make a move again," she says. "This time, don't cry first. Just be bold. You are bold. You're all glitter and gloss and crazy perfume names. He's just... stuck in his own head. Maybe you have to shake him out of it."
You snap the cap back on your gloss and toss it into your bag with more force than necessary, jaw tight. "Shut up," you mutter, "I'm not going to be broken-hearted again."
And you mean it. You swear you mean it. You're done with chasing. No one, not even Ningning with her relentless optimism, can convince you otherwise.
But then the universe, in its favorite tradition, decides to humiliate you anyway.
You're late. Because of course you are. Your package—your limited edition, out-of-stock-everywhere Flower Knows powder compact—finally arrived, and there was no way you were missing the delivery. Not when you'd already cried once this semester. So yes, you're late. But you're late looking good.
You strut into the lecture hall, tote bag slung over your shoulder, heels clicking until your eyes fall on your seat. Your seat. The one next to Ningning, the only tolerable spot in the entire damn classroom.
And sitting in it was Yeonjun.
"What the fuck," you hiss, marching over, already reaching to swing your bag off your shoulder. "Get out of my seat, loser." You kick his foot under the table.
Yeonjun just laughs, dragging out a pout. "Relax, princess. It's just a chair." He tilts his chin, gesturing toward the only empty seat left in the room. "That one's free. Enjoy."
You follow the line of his smug finger. Your stomach sinks. Of course the only available seat is next to Jay—stone-faced, hyper-focused, glasses on, notebook already open, refusing to even glance up.
"Fuck you," you growl under your breath, kicking Yeonjun again—harder this time—before straightening up, your eyes narrowing in betrayal at Ningning, who's already failing to hide her grin behind her notebook.
"Miss," the professor calls from the front, already halfway into his introduction. "You're late. Care to sit down already?"
You grit your teeth, casting one last glare at the two traitors pretending to be your friends, then march down the row and plop down into the seat beside Jay, the sound of your bag dropping beside you far louder than necessary.
You're not here for him. You're here because Yeonjun's an ass, because the universe hates you, and because the professor called you out in front of the whole class.
But still, your Omega, ever the traitor, is practically curled up in delight beside him, soothed by the way he hasn't even acknowledged you, his scent like a steady anchor in a sea of your annoyance.
You grumble under your breath and shift in your seat, opening your notebook with a loud, irritated flick of your wrist. You pretend to read a line from the handout, then, without thinking, reach into your bag and pull out the one thing guaranteed to bring you joy: your brand-new compact powder.
The packaging is perfect. You run your finger lightly over the embossed strawberry on the front, admiring the pearlescent detail. You smile to yourself, the tension in your shoulders melting just a little.
If you were sitting next to Ningning right now, you'd be yapping. Nonstop. Yapping about how this compact was almost impossible to find, how you tracked it across two continents and seven different sold-out websites. And to be fair, you'd yap with anyone—about lip tints, palettes, perfume layering combinations, finish textures, and highlighter formulas. You live for the details.
So, of course, you can't help yourself now even with Jay sitting next to you. "I didn't get the whole set," you begin, voice charged with the thrill of finally talking about something you care about. "Because, like, sometimes Flower Knows won't ship directly here, and some bitches already hoarded the preorder."
Jay doesn't move.
"But guess what," you continue, tapping his arm lightly with your nail before holding up the compact in your palm. "I finally got the powder, and it is so cute. Like, look at this texture. It's shaped like whipped cream frosting. And—oh my God—smell this."
You pause, opening your pouch again, digging through until you find the matching tube. "Also, I bought their lipstick too. The one from the Swan Ballet line. It smells like candy clouds, but also slightly floral. Honestly, it's genius. I kind of want to buy another one just to keep it in the box—"
You stop mid-sentence with the lipstick tube held in front of you. Jay turned his head, his eyes are on you, listening.
And you realize you've been yapping. You blink, lips still parted, frozen with your product halfway. Then he blinks, turns his head back to his notes, and says quietly—
"Keep going."
The words are so simple, so softly said, that you almost think you imagined them. Your heart flips in your chest. Your Omega lets out a pleased little purr that almost makes your spine tingle.
"And then," you whisper, "I found a reseller who didn't charge triple the price, and I swear to you, Jay, it was like fate."
And then it becomes a thing.
Every damn time, without fail, Ningning and Yeonjun pull their little stunt. They laugh, wink, and somehow, through force, they make sure your seat ends up next to Jay. One of them will be "saving your seat" only to abandon it the moment you enter, or "accidentally" block it with a pile of books. And every time, you glare, you groan, you curse under your breath.
But you still sit next to him. You tell yourself you don't want to talk. That you'll just sit in silence, that this time you won't fall back into the same pattern. That your Omega will behave. That you will behave.
And then you open your mouth anyway.
You start rambling about the new things you bought, or how underpriced the campus café is, or how this semester's syllabus is personally trying to kill you. Sometimes you don't even know what you're saying—just that he's listening, and somehow that makes you talk more. And every time, Jay just sits there, occasionally replying, sometimes looking at you.
You don't even realize when it happens when the tension begins to fade, when your Omega starts curling softly in contentment. It's like your body is choosing to forget. Forget all the ways he made you feel ignored. Forget the moments he brushed you off, dismissed you, didn't care.
"Smell this," you say one day, voice light and sweet as you pull your sleeve up and offer him your wrist. "It's my new Jo Malone—Wild Bluebell with a hint of Peony and Blush Suede. I think it fits well with my natural scent, don't you think?"
Jay doesn't even flinch. He reaches out, gently holding your wrist between two fingers. His head lowers, slowly, and his nose brushes just above your pulse point.
It's subtle but his scent deepens, and grows warmer. Like his Alpha side responded before he could think it through.
You giggle. You fucking giggle, and your Omega purrs without shame, flooding the air with the soft, pleased lilt of someone finally receiving attention they've craved for too long.
He blinks slowly, releases your wrist, clears his throat. He turns back to his notebook like nothing happened.
Jay is not the Alpha your Omega deserves. No matter how many times your instincts try to paint over the truth, you remember. You remember the way he ignored your efforts, dismissed your excitement, and made you feel like you were just noise. Your Omega might conveniently purr every time he's near, lulled by the safety of his scent or the quiet steadiness of his presence, but your heart? Your mind? They haven't forgotten a single bruise.
It's infuriating how easily your instincts betray you. How they curl toward him, like he deserves you—like he's ever earned the softness your body keeps offering without your permission.
And Jay, for all his cool-headed composure and sharp intelligence, doesn't make it easier. He never explains himself. He just shows up beside you, around you, in all the quiet corners where you swore you'd stop caring and somehow keeps slipping beneath your guard again. Like he knows he doesn't need to try, because your Omega has already made the decision for you.
What's wrong with him, anyway?
Why is he always so composed, so perfectly infuriating? Why can't he just say what he wants? Be blunt, be cruel, be anything instead of this calm, silent wall you keep crashing into. And you—you're doing it again.
You're showing him the new earrings you ordered from a Korean boutique. Rambling about the shade match of a concealer that finally works for your undertones. Talking about the sale that's coming up and which perfumes you plan to layer next. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't mock, doesn't even look annoyed. Just lets you talk while he listens in that quiet way.
But the entire time, a weight builds in your chest. A creeping fear.
What if he gets annoyed again? What if this—all of this comfort, this strange new rhythm you've found ends the moment you say too much? What if he gets tired of you again, pulls away again, tells you you're too much?
What if he says it's time to leave him alone?
That fear clutches at your chest, and it hurts in a way you can't explain. Because the last time he rejected you—even indirectly—you swore you wouldn't give him another chance to do it again. You swore you'd protect yourself. That you'd stop offering pieces of your joy to someone who never asked for them.
But here you are. Sitting next to him. Talking like he hasn't shattered you before. Laughing like your Omega isn't already begging for something deeper.
Make him yours, your Omega whispers again, insistent and eager, like it hasn't learned a damn thing.
But you're exhausted. Emotionally wrung out. And today, you wake up already irritated.
The sunlight filters too harshly through your curtains, clinging to your skin. The room is warm, your sheets twisted, your silk pillowcase thrown somewhere on the floor, and your hair—your perfect blowout—looks nothing like what it was when you fell asleep. The ends are flat, the roots are puffy, and there's a weird dent on the side from sleeping too hard. You stand in front of your mirror for twenty minutes trying to fix it, but no amount of brushing or oil can save it.
Your closet stares back at you with the same smug silence it always has. You try on three outfits, one after the other, but nothing feels right. One's too stiff. The other clings wrong. The third is fine—but fine is not how you want to look when the world's already pulling at your nerves.
So you give up.
You toss your clothes onto your bed in frustration, pull on the safest thing you can find, and leave your room without bothering to match your lip gloss to your top. You're annoyed, tired, and in no mood to deal with your usual routine of being put-together. You skip your first class without a second thought—no one was taking attendance anyway—and instead sulk in your favorite café, sipping iced matcha that tastes too bitter and scrolling through your phone like it'll fix something.
By the time your second lecture rolls around, you're still not in the mood. You step into the room later than usual, ignoring the way some of your classmates glance up. You don't care. You don't scan the rows for him. You just go straight to the back, dropping your bag onto the seat beside you and pulling your phone out.
"Fuck off," you hissed when you hear footsteps approach and see Yeonjun and Ningning out of the corner of your eye.
Yeonjun raises both hands. "Damn, chill, princess. I was just gonna ask why you're back here."
You shoot him a glare. "I thought you and Jay were good again," he adds, eyebrows raised. "Did he breathe wrong or something?"
"Fuck. Off." you growl again. Your fingers tighten around your cup, the condensation sliding between your skin and the plastic.
"Okay, okay—calm down," he mutters, retreating with exaggerated caution. "God, I think I know what's coming with you."
You roll your eyes but don't respond. Because he's not wrong. You already know what's happening.
The ache behind your eyes, the restless way your Omega keeps curling and stretching like it's searching for something—or someone. Your scent has started to shift subtly and the minute it hit the air, you knew it wouldn't be long. You can feel it coming in. Your pre-heat.
Your Omega can't even wait for it. It's already humming at the idea of being close to him again, already reacting to memories of his scent, his presence, his voice. Your control is fraying at the edges, and you hate it. You hate how easily your body turns traitor.
You've skipped half the day now, letting yourself exist in the quieter part of campus, tucked on the familiar stairwell where the lectures can't reach you. Where your makeup-free face, your messy ponytail, and your emotional disarray don't need to perform for anyone. You sit with your legs folded close, your phone dimmed in your hand.
"You're skipping lecture again."
You already know it's Jay. No one else has a voice that smooth, that neutral, that sharp around the edges without trying to be. He settles beside you on the stairs.
"Fuck off," you mutter, eyes still focused on nothing, fingers idly picking at the hem of your sleeve. But your Omega stirs anyways.
"You're not wearing makeup today." It's not a compliment. Not an insult either. Just a flat observation.
"Fuck off," you repeat.
He doesn't move. "Is something wrong?" he asks.
"Fuck off."
Jay's mouth shuts without resistance. The silence between you grows. You keep your face buried in the crook of your arm, knees drawn to your chest like you can fold yourself out of existence if you just hold tight enough. You don't want to look at him. You don't want to see whatever look he's wearing.
You're done reading his silences like they owe you answers. So why the hell is he here? The lecture isn't over. There's no reason for him to be outside with you, sitting in this stairwell like it means something.
"Do you want to drink some matcha? I noticed it's your—"
You lift your head abruptly, eyes flashing with frustration, and he stops mid-sentence. "I don't know what you want from me," you cut in, "Or why you're suddenly acting like you care. Why you keep showing up every single time I go distress."
Jay doesn't move, but something in his expression flickers. You stand up before he can respond, grabbing your bag in a quick, jerky motion, stuffing your things back inside with clumsy hands. Your breath is uneven. You hate how tight your chest feels, how your Omega keeps curling in confusion, still wanting to stay close despite everything your brain knows.
"If this is about you feeling guilty," you say, your voice cracking against the emotion climbing in your throat, "then congratulations. You're forgiven. For everything."
You hoist your bag onto your shoulder, your back turned now as you take a step down the stairs. "Leave me alone," you add without looking at him. "It's annoying. We're not even friends."
"it might not be a good idea to tell you to just rest, cuz i know you have your own reasons on why you keep going despite being tired.
but even if you take a short break don't compare yourself to others too much, but honestly... how can we not compare ourselves?
so you know the saying:
"don't compare yourself to others just walk your own path"
but it's hard when you can see them moving so far ahead, it feels like you shouldn't be the only one resting... right?
so i don't think i can easily say 'just take a break' since everyone has their own timing
Instead i'll give you love in the best way i can with all my strenght i can give~ I love you!!
you've worked so hard it must have been really tough"
translation credits
and then gave us a cute little heart, this sweetheart i love him so much(T_T)
pairing: dance club president!sunghoon x plump!reader
wc: 8.8k
warning: smut!/unprotected sex/ body insecurity themes/public sex/light power imbalance/ sexual photography (consensual)/mild angst/ fluff ofcourse!
Orientation day wasn’t something Y/N had been looking forward to. New faces, crowded spaces, the weight of first impressions—it all felt overwhelming, especially when you didn’t quite feel like you fit in. Her clothes felt tight in all the wrong places, and even though she knew she looked okay, her mind kept whispering otherwise. Still, with Sunoo and Jungwon on either side of her, dragging her toward the campus auditorium, it was hard to say no.
The room was packed with freshmen, all buzzing with nervous energy. She tried to shrink into her seat, already exhausted from pretending to be unfazed. Then the lights dimmed.
Music started. The cheers around her rose.
And then he walked onto the stage.
Park Sunghoon. Second year. Dance club president. The name didn’t mean anything to her yet—but the moment he started to move, it was burned into her.
He was smooth. Fluid. Sharp. Controlled. The way his body followed every beat made it hard to look away. He danced like he knew what it did to people. His confidence wasn’t loud—it was in the way he took up space, the way his eyes scanned the crowd without needing to land on anyone to command attention.
Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t even sure if she was clapping when it ended—her heart was too loud in her ears.
She didn’t tell anyone. Not even Sunoo, who she told everything. She just held it quietly, tucked it somewhere between admiration and fascination. She watched from afar when they passed him in the quad. She caught glimpses during campus events, when he was leading workshops or walking with his club members, exuding that quiet charisma that made heads turn. Especially hers.
Weeks passed. Her crush didn’t fade, it deepened. But she never expected to actually cross paths with him.
Not until the school festival.
Their department was in chaos. The interdepartmental dance competition was coming up, and they were short on performers. Sunoo and Jungwon had already agreed to join, and the moment Y/N mentioned offhandedly that she used to dance in high school, they latched onto her like hawks.
“No way you’re keeping that from us!” Sunoo gasped dramatically.
“I’m not—seriously, I’m rusty. And—” she looked down at herself—“this isn’t exactly a dancer’s body anymore.”
Jungwon frowned. “Screw that. You know what looks good on stage? Confidence. Energy. Passion. Not pants size.”
She hesitated, but eventually gave in. It was just an audition. No one important would be watching anyway.
Or so she thought.
She stood at the edge of the practice room, shifting nervously as the music cued. For the first few beats, she was stiff. Conscious of the way her shirt rose every time her arms did. But then… she found the rhythm.
The switch flipped.
She moved. Boldly. Powerfully. Her body remembered what it felt like to lose herself in a song. Her insecurities melted with every step. Her hips swayed, her arms cut through the air, her footwork crisp and commanding.
She didn’t see the door crack open.
Didn’t see Sunghoon lean against the frame, arms crossed, brows slightly raised as he watched her dance like no one was watching.
His head tilted. A slow smile curled on his lips. Interesting.
When the music ended, she was breathless. Flushed. She grabbed her towel and bent over to catch her breath.
A voice came from behind her.
“I didn’t expect that from you.”
She froze. Slowly turned.
Sunghoon stood there, smirking. His black tee clung to his chest, and his hair was damp with
sweat like he’d just come from practice himself.
“You just made half the dance team look like backup dancers,” he said, stepping a little closer.
Y/N couldn’t form words. Her mouth opened slightly, but her brain refused to cooperate.
Sunoo grinned behind her. “Told you she’s a hidden weapon.”
Sunghoon’s gaze didn’t waver. “I like hidden weapons.”
She didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. All she remembered was his voice, the heat that climbed up her neck, and the way his eyes lingered just a bit too long.
After their department won the competition—largely thanks to her—Sunghoon approached her again. Alone this time.
“You’ve got something special,” he said, fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh. “You should join the dance club.”
She blinked. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious,” he said, that damn smile back again. “I want to see more of you.”
The double meaning was not lost on her.
Practice after that became… something else.
He wasn’t subtle. Every time they were paired together, he pushed limits. His hand always rested a little too long on her waist. He stood close—too close—when they moved through routines, voice low as he murmured corrections in her ear, his breath grazing her neck.
“You’re stiff,” he said one evening, pressing a hand against the small of her back. “Relax. Trust your body. It knows what it’s doing.”
Her breath hitched. “Easy for you to say.”
He leaned closer. “You make it very hard to stay easy.”
She nearly choked.
After a while, she gave in to the flirtation. Gave into the way her body reacted when he touched her. The way he looked at her like she was the most interesting thing in the room.
Then came the post-performance party.
She’d worn a fitted dress that hugged her hips, lips tinted in a shade darker than usual. She’d danced. Laughed. Let go.
And someone noticed.
An upperclassman approached her, complimented her moves, told her her curves made her stand out on stage. He was charming. Harmless.
But someone else was watching.
Sunghoon stayed back, drink in hand, eyes locked on her. Jaw tight. When the guy’s hand touched her arm, Sunghoon moved.
He cornered her near the hallway minutes later, his voice quieter than usual, more serious.
“Didn’t know you liked guys like that.”
She raised a brow. “Like what?”
“Touchy. Forward.”
Her heart jumped. “What’s it to you?”
He stepped closer, enough that she had to tilt her head to look at him.
“It’s everything to me right now.”
The tension was thick. His eyes dropped to her lips. Her back hit the wall. She swore he was about to kiss her.
But Sunoo called her name from down the hall, and just like that, the moment passed.
It wasn’t until a week later—after another high-energy performance, where the two of them danced like their bodies were on fire—that it happened.
Backstage. Dim lighting. Music still thumping from the main floor.
Y/N laughed, flushed and panting, high off the adrenaline. She turned to face him, breathless.
He reached for her hand, spun her around.
“You keep dancing like that,” he murmured, pulling her close, “I might fall harder than I planned.”
And then he kissed her.
It was messy. Hungry. His hand on her cheek, thumb grazing her jaw, the other on her waist pulling her close, her hands gripping his shoulders like she’d fall without him. Their lips moved like they were still dancing, synced and seamless, stealing breath and giving it right back.
When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.
“Damn,” he whispered, grinning. “You’re full of surprises.”
She smiled, dizzy. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
And she meant it.
Because the dance had only just begun.
—
The studio had emptied out hours ago. The overhead lights were dimmed to a low golden hue, casting long shadows across the floor as the playlist played softly in the background on a loop. Y/N stood in front of the mirror, trying to stretch out her sore calves. Her body was damp with sweat, her tank clinging to her skin, and her chest rising with shallow breaths after their nonstop practice.
It was supposed to be just another after-hours session—polish the final duet choreography for the dance showcase. Sunghoon was always strict about lines and connection, always chasing perfection on stage. But tonight had been different.
Too many moments where his hand lingered just a second too long. Too many hushed praises said in a low, teasing voice right by her ear. Too many times her body responded before her brain could catch up.
“Still standing?” Sunghoon’s voice came from behind her, low and rich. His reflection joined hers in the mirror, and she immediately tensed.
“Barely,” she tried to joke, avoiding his gaze. “I think I pulled something.”
He stepped closer, towel slung around his neck, black shirt clinging to his torso. His chest rose and fell with a practiced ease, but his eyes were anything but calm as they scanned over her in the mirror.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Where it hurts.”
“I was joking,” she murmured, her voice suddenly small. His presence always did that—made her feel things she didn’t know how to name.
But he didn’t laugh. Instead, his hand reached out, gently grazing her lower back. She flinched, and he paused.
“Relax,” he said, even softer now. “Let me take care of you.”
Y/N stared at their reflection, unsure. Her instinct was to hide. To turn her body away from his eyes. Even after weeks of flirting, of tension, of touches that lingered, there was still that small voice in the back of her head that whispered he’s out of your league. That he looked the way he did—and she looked the way she did.
But then he stepped closer, chest against her back, and slipped his hand up her arm in a gentle, grounding motion. His other hand touched her waist, his fingers tracing slow, featherlight patterns over the soft curve there.
“You’re holding back again,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Why do you keep doing that?”
She bit her lip. “Because I don’t… I don’t look like the girls you usually dance with.”
His head dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing her neck. “Don’t do that.”
Her breath hitched.
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to anyone else. Not when I can’t stop thinking about the way you move.”
He turned her around gently, hands firm on her hips. She tried to step back, to hide, but he followed, eyes locked on hers.
“Y/N,” he said, like a vow. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She was quiet. Vulnerable. Her hands clenched at her sides.
Then he leaned in and kissed her—softly at first. Like he was asking. When she didn’t pull away, he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands sliding up her sides like he needed to touch every part of her. His tongue slid past her lips, coaxing hers into a slow rhythm that left her dizzy.
When they pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers.
“Let me see you,” he murmured.
“I don’t—” she started, already shaking her head.
“Shh.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Let me worship you.”
His fingers slipped under the hem of her tank top, and she stiffened again. But his eyes held no judgment. Only heat. Admiration. Hunger wrapped in reverence.
He peeled the fabric up, slow, giving her every chance to stop him. She didn’t.
When her top came off, he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes drank her in—soft stomach, full chest, flushed cheeks.
“God,” he whispered, stepping closer. “You’re perfect.”
She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to say that—”
He kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Her shoulder. “I’m not saying it to be nice. I’m saying it because I’m obsessed.”
His hands traced the soft curve of her waist like it was his favorite line in a song. He dropped to his knees in front of her without a word, pressing kisses over the stretch of her belly, murmuring, “Beautiful… gorgeous… fuck, I love this.”
Her hands flew to cover herself, but he gently tugged them away.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now.”
She let her fingers tangle in his hair, breath catching as his lips explored her skin like it was something precious. He rose slowly, trailing kisses up her body, until he stood again, cupping her cheek.
“Look,” he said softly.
He turned her toward the mirror again, standing behind her. Her reflection trembled, but his hands anchored her—one on her stomach, the other caressing her arm.
“You see this?” he asked, his voice like gravel. “This body dances like fire. Drives me insane. The way your hips move, the way you own the stage… You don’t get to call that anything but sexy.”
His lips grazed her ear. “Let me show you how much I mean that.”
And when his hands slid lower, and his lips found hers again—deeper, hungrier—she let him. She let go of everything. Of fear. Of shame.
Because in his touch, in the way he moaned against her skin, in the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—
She finally believed it.
She was desired.
And when he laid her down on the studio mats, kissed every inch of her with aching reverence, whispered how much he wanted her between every breathless touch—
She finally felt worshiped.
Her back met the cool mats beneath them, the contrast to the heat building in her body making her shiver. Sunghoon hovered over her, his knees on either side of her hips, his hands braced beside her head. The look in his eyes wasn’t just lust—it was reverence. Like he couldn’t believe she was really there, beneath him, letting him see her like this. Letting him have her.
“You sure?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing her cheek, grounding her even as the fire between them burned hotter.
Y/N nodded, biting her lip, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”
That was all he needed.
His lips were on her again, but this time they moved lower, worshipping every inch as they traveled down her body. He kissed over her collarbones, nipped at the swell of her chest, his hands sliding under to unclasp her bra slowly—so slowly that her hips lifted involuntarily beneath him.
The fabric slipped away, and Sunghoon pulled back just enough to take in the sight of her bare chest. His eyes darkened.
“Fuck…” he breathed, tracing the underside of one breast with the backs of his fingers. “You’re unreal.”
She turned her face to the side in embarrassment, but he didn’t let her hide. He dipped down, kissing the curve of one breast, then the other, then wrapping his lips around her nipple, sucking gently until she gasped.
Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging without meaning to, and he groaned against her.
“You like that?” he asked, tongue flicking playfully.
“Yes—God, yes,” she breathed, legs shifting restlessly beneath him.
He chuckled, cocky but adoring, clearly enjoying every second of her unraveling.
“Say it again,” he said, trailing kisses down her stomach. “Say you want me.”
“I—I want you, Sunghoon,” she whimpered. “Please…”
His hands slipped beneath the waistband of her leggings, slowly peeling them down, inch by inch, like she was something to be unwrapped—not just desired, but savored. And when he finally got her bare, fully bare, he sat back on his heels and stared at her like she was art.
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he muttered, palming himself through his sweats, breath heavy. “You don’t even know how sexy you are like this. Spread out for me. Trusting me.”
Her body trembled, both from nerves and anticipation, but her eyes met his—and she saw it there. The worship. The hunger. The want. Not for a version of her, not in spite of anything, but because she was her.
“Touch me,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “Please…”
He obeyed instantly.
One hand slid between her thighs, parting them gently as his fingers dipped through her folds, testing how wet she was—and when he felt it, he swore low under his breath.
“Goddamn,” he groaned. “All this for me?”
She moaned in answer, arching into his touch. His mouth returned to her chest, his fingers finding a slow, delicious rhythm between her legs that had her panting, clinging to him, grinding up for more. He watched her fall apart, fascinated—her flushed face, parted lips, whimpers tumbling out with every brush of his fingers.
And when her thighs began to tremble, her walls fluttering around him, he leaned in close, lips against her ear.
“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered, voice like silk. “I want to feel how pretty you fall apart.”
She cried out as it hit her—pleasure blooming white-hot in her gut, her body shuddering beneath him. Sunghoon didn’t stop, easing her through it, kissing every inch he could reach, whispering praises and filthy promises all at once.
As she came down, chest rising and falling rapidly, he kissed her again—slower now. Deeper. A kiss that promised more. A kiss that said this isn’t just about tonight.
“Can I…?” he murmured against her lips, hips grinding against her core.
She nodded, no hesitation this time. “Yes. I need you.”
Clothes were shed in record time, and when he finally pushed into her, both of them gasped like they’d been holding their breath since the moment they met. He filled her completely, their bodies molding together like two halves of the same song.
He held her close, one hand under her back, the other cradling her face as he began to move—slow and deep, deliberate.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned. “You feel so good, baby.”
Her nails scraped down his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her moans rising with each thrust. The studio echoed with the sounds of skin on skin, breathless gasps, soft curses and moaned names. His name. Over and over.
“Sunghoon—please—don’t stop—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he panted, kissing her fiercely. “This is just the beginning.”
And when they both came undone again, tangled in each other under the soft glow of the mirrors, it didn’t feel like a mistake. It didn’t feel like a fling.
It felt like everything was finally in sync.
Just like their dance.
Her chest was still heaving, her skin flushed and slick with sweat as Sunghoon pressed her deeper into the mat, his body nestled perfectly against hers. One of his arms cradled beneath her neck, the other splayed across her stomach, anchoring her to him as if afraid she’d vanish the second he let go. Their legs tangled, her thighs still trembling from the aftershocks, his cock buried deep and still twitching inside her.
She felt dazed—ruined, really. Breathless and boneless, her cheek pressed to his chest, right above where his heart was still beating erratically.
Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the mirror in front of them. The way their bodies looked—her full curves beneath him, the way her chest rose with every shaky breath, how she was holding him like she never wanted him to move—he looked absolutely possessive. And proud.
“Fuck…” he murmured against her temple, lips ghosting her damp skin. “Look at us.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and when she caught sight of their reflection, she stiffened slightly, still not used to seeing herself like this. Bare. Exposed. Tangled up with someone as effortlessly gorgeous as him.
Sunghoon caught the shift immediately.
“Hey,” he murmured, tightening his arm around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of his body. His voice was honey-sweet and cocky all at once. “Why do you look like you’re about to disappear on me, huh?”
“I’m just not used to… seeing myself like this,” she whispered.
He grinned, slow and sinful, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “You better get used to it.”
Then he leaned to the side, reaching blindly for his phone resting on the edge of the mat. Y/N’s brows furrowed.
“What are you doing?”
His voice dropped, raspy and full of heat. “Can I snap a pic, baby?”
Her eyes widened. “What? Sunghoon—”
He held the phone up, smirking as he tilted it slightly to angle the lens. The camera showed them just like they were in the mirror: her plush, flushed body beneath him, legs still wrapped around his hips, his arms caging her close, sweat-slicked skin glowing under the studio’s warm lights.
“You look so fucking good right now,” he groaned, biting his lip as his fingers ghosted down her side again. “All wrecked. Mine.”
“Sunghoon—”
“I won’t show anyone. Not a soul,” he promised, and though his tone was cocky, his eyes flicked back to hers with a quiet softness underneath. “Just for me. Just to remember the first time I got to ruin you like this.”
She swallowed hard. The idea was bold. So unlike her.
But the way he looked at her—like she was art. A masterpiece he had the privilege of touching. Worshiping. Keeping.
Her lip caught between her teeth as she hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “Just don’t get my face.”
His eyes lit up. “Fuck yes. Come here—arch your back for me, baby. Let me show you just how sexy you look from this angle.”
And before she could fully process how she’d gotten from silently admiring him across a crowded auditorium to letting him take a photo of her post-orgasm with his cock still inside her, he snapped the picture.
He grinned down at the image, then showed it to her, letting her see how soft and pretty her curves looked beneath him—how wild his own expression was, how possessive his grip on her waist was.
“Gonna be thinking about this all week,” he whispered, setting the phone aside. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before.”
He kissed her again, slower this time. Deeper. Then rolled his hips forward once more, just enough to make her moan and dig her nails into his shoulders.
“Round two?” he whispered against her lips, voice dripping with mischief. “Or do you wanna see what else we can get on camera, baby?”
—
Sunghoon didn’t wait for her to answer—because the way she clenched around him, the way her nails dug into his arms and her body arched up toward him? That was all the answer he needed.
“Yeah?” he breathed, already pulling back just enough to hear the wet drag of his cock sliding from her heat. “You want more, don’t you?”
Y/N swallowed, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in the prettiest daze. But this time… she didn’t shy away. Her eyes held his, heavy-lidded and bold, her fingers trailing down his chest to his abs, then back up to his shoulders.
“I can take it,” she whispered.
Sunghoon’s breath hitched.
Something primal flickered in his gaze—like the switch had flipped, and that teasing cocky energy turned darker, hungrier.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned, voice rough as gravel. “You have no idea what you just unlocked.”
He sat back on his heels again, his hands sliding under her thighs and pulling her down the mat until her hips were perched right on his lap. Still inside her, still thick and hard and stretching her open. Her breath caught as he adjusted the angle—and then he grinned.
“You’re dripping,” he muttered, almost to himself, watching the mess between her thighs with open awe. “So fucking messy and so ready for more.”
He braced one hand under her knee, pushing her leg up to her chest, opening her wide. His other hand gripped her hip tightly.
“Hold on.”
The first thrust punched the air from her lungs.
Not slow. Not gentle. He slammed into her like he couldn’t get close enough, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the empty studio like a filthy metronome. Her moan came out choked, a raw sound that made his head fall back, jaw clenched.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Take it. Take all of it.”
She did. She took everything—every rough thrust, every breathless curse, every desperate kiss he dropped on her lips, her neck, her shoulder. Her body moved with him now, hips rising to meet his, moans rising uninhibited as he drove deeper, harder.
She wasn’t shy anymore. Not here. Not with him.
Her hand slipped up his back, fingers raking through his sweat-damp hair as she arched under him. “More,” she gasped. “Faster—Sunghoon, please—”
“Fuck—like that?” He growled the words, picking up his pace until it was nothing short of relentless, his abs tightening, veins in his forearms prominent as he gripped her harder.
Y/N’s back lifted off the mat as she cried out, thighs trembling again, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his body and the way he looked at her while fucking her like she was the only thing in the world that ever mattered.
“So goddamn perfect,” he groaned. “Taking my cock like you were made for it—fuck, baby, you were, weren’t you?”
She could barely speak, only moan, her brain foggy from the pleasure snapping through her with every thrust. But she managed a breathless, “Yes—yours—Sunghoon, I’m—!”
“Cum again,” he demanded, thumb flicking quick over her clit. “Let me feel it. I wanna feel you squeeze me like you did before—fuck, baby, do it. Come on.”
It only took seconds. Her body locked beneath him, her walls clamping down so hard he nearly lost it then and there. Her moans dissolved into sobbed whimpers, her hands scrambling to hold onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.
And maybe he was.
Sunghoon let out a strangled curse, hips stuttering, and then he was right behind her—spilling inside with a low, guttural groan as he pressed as deep as he could go, grinding through every last pulse of her orgasm until he collapsed forward, chest to hers, both of them panting and shaking.
They lay like that for a while, tangled, sweaty, and so close it hurt. His cock still nestled inside her, his hand stroking lazy patterns up and down her thigh while her heartbeat gradually slowed.
When he finally lifted his head, hair messy and lips swollen from kissing her breathless, he gave her the filthiest grin.
“You,” he said, brushing a thumb across her cheek, “are going to kill me.”
She laughed softly, dazed and happy, still catching her breath.
He kissed her. Slow this time. Sweet.
Then, his voice dropped again, low and playful.
“Think the mirrors caught that round too?”
—
Sunghoon was still hovering above her, sweat-slick and flushed, his hands stroking lazy up and down her sides as her breathing began to even out beneath him. But Y/N’s heart was still racing—this time, not from his thrusts, but from something bolder building up in her chest.
That same boldness he’d coaxed out of her piece by piece tonight.
He watched her with those hooded, post-orgasm eyes, that smirk softening into something fond as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Still with me?”
She nodded slowly, biting her lip. Then, after a pause… she spoke. Quietly, but clear enough.
“Can I ride you?”
His body tensed above her. A beat passed. Then his jaw slackened, and his eyes blew wide with surprise—and heat.
“What?” he breathed, like she’d just flipped his entire world upside down.
“I want to,” she whispered, braver now, her fingers curling against his chest. “I wanna try… like that. On top.”
Sunghoon let out a strangled groan, his head dropping against her shoulder for a second like he physically needed to collect himself.
“Fuck, baby… you’re gonna be the death of me.”
He leaned up, eyes burning into hers, cupping her face with both hands.
“You can do whatever you want to me. Anything,” he said with a low, reverent kind of intensity. “You wanna ride me? I’ll lay back and worship you while you take what’s yours.”
That sent a hot thrill through her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be wanted like this before—seen like this. Not just allowed to take control, but invited to. Encouraged to.
Sunghoon slid off her carefully, groaning as he slipped out of her, only to lay flat on his back on the mat, his arms stretched behind his head, completely unguarded.
He looked up at her with nothing but awe. “Climb on, gorgeous.”
Her cheeks burned as she rose to straddle him, thighs still shaky, but this time it wasn’t nerves—it was anticipation. She hovered above him, eyes flicking down to where he lay thick and hard again against his stomach.
“C’mere,” he coaxed, hands gripping her waist and guiding her forward. “Nice and slow.”
She reached between them and lined him up, exhaling shakily as she sank down.
Sunghoon groaned. One hand flew to her hip, the other pressing flat against his own chest like he needed to ground himself.
“Holy fuck, baby…” he hissed. “You feel so good like this—so fucking good riding me.”
She whimpered as she sank lower, the stretch deliciously slow and intense. Once he was fully inside her again, seated deep, she stilled for a moment, catching her breath.
He was right—she felt powerful.
Sunghoon looked up at her like she was a dream. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You’re fucking stunning like this.”
She began to move. Tentative at first—rolling her hips, adjusting to the angle. But the way he responded, the deep growls from his throat, the way his fingers dug into her plush thighs like he couldn’t get enough—it fueled her.
Confidence bloomed.
She leaned back slightly, grinding down on him as her hands braced on his abs, her movements smoother, more deliberate.
“Oh my god,” Sunghoon choked, his head falling back as he bit his lip. “You’re gonna make me cum just from watching you—fuck, ride me just like that, baby. Show me how bad you wanted this.”
Her moans picked up, riding the rhythm of his words. Every time she brought herself down on him, he met her halfway, matching her with a deep thrust that had them both unraveling.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Please, harder—”
He sat up in a flash, chest to hers, mouth crashing into hers as he took her hips in both hands and began guiding her even faster.
Her forehead dropped to his shoulder as she rode him harder, faster, her moans turning breathless and high-pitched.
“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” he groaned into her ear. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this from me.”
She was close—so close. He could feel it in the way she clenched, in the way her nails scraped down his back.
“Cum for me,” he growled. “Right here, on top of me, just like this. Want you to fall apart while you’re owning me.”
And she did—shaking and gasping his name, her body jerking as the orgasm crashed through her again, harder this time.
Sunghoon followed with a curse, holding her down as he spilled inside her, hips twitching helplessly beneath her as he rode it out.
When they finally slumped down onto each other again, breathless and ruined, his hand cradled the back of her head, his mouth brushing soft kisses over her temple.
“You,” he whispered, lips against her skin, “are never gonna walk into practice again without me thinking about this moment.”
—
They hadn’t moved much—just enough for their breathing to settle, his arms still wrapped around her waist while she stayed straddled over him, warm and messy, their bodies still joined. The low lighting in the studio gave everything a soft glow, casting reflections in the mirrored wall across from them.
Sunghoon leaned back against the wall now, legs stretched out, her body still in his lap. One hand rested lazily at her lower back, the other reached off to the side again—fingers brushing along the mat until they closed around his phone.
Y/N felt him shift slightly, lifting the phone with a telltale little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re not—” she began, a little breathless, cheeks still warm from everything that just happened.
He tilted the phone casually, angling it toward the mirror in front of them. The screen lit up.
There they were. Her on top of him, hair wild, neck marked from his kisses, her curves cradled perfectly against his body like she was made to be there. His head leaned back against the wall, sweat-slicked and flushed, that post-orgasm look on his face—utterly wrecked and proud of it.
“You like taking pics, huh~” she teased, narrowing her eyes at him with a coy smile as she traced a finger down his chest. Her voice was breathy but playful, the soft lilt of it stirring something in him all over again.
His grin widened, slow and wicked.
“Only when I look like this,” he murmured, thumbing the screen but not pressing the shutter yet. “And only when you look like this.”
Her hand rested over his on the phone. “And what do I look like?” she asked, though her tone was already smug, body still glistening from their high, her confidence just barely teasing through.
“Mine,” he said without missing a beat. “Fucking gorgeous. And fucked-out. And glowing. And riding me like you finally know you own me.”
The air between them thickened again.
She raised an eyebrow. “So that’s why you wanna save it? A little souvenir for your spank bank?”
He chuckled, deep and low, squeezing her hip possessively. “Please. Like I need a photo when I’m gonna be dreaming about this for the next ten years.”
Then, softer, his voice dropped.
“But if you’ll let me take one again…” He brushed his lips against her jaw. “Just for me. Just to remember how perfect you look like this. No one else’ll ever see it. Cross my fucking heart.”
She looked at the screen again—at their reflection. At how good they looked together, how raw and messy and real she looked with him. And she didn’t hate it. Not even a little.
“…Just one, last one,” she murmured.
Sunghoon’s eyes sparkled as he clicked the shutter.
“And maybe one more,” she added, biting her lip as she shifted in his lap teasingly, making him hiss. “This time with you moaning my name.”
He groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
And maybe she would be.
Their bodies had finally stilled, breaths returning to something human, even if Sunghoon still had his arms locked tight around her waist like he wasn’t ready to let her go. Y/N stayed curled into him, bare chest pressed to his, head tucked into the crook of his neck while the studio lights hummed softly overhead. Everything was warm. Sticky. Quiet in the most intimate way.
“You okay?” he asked again, voice low and stupidly fond.
“Mmhm,” she murmured, lips brushing against the sheen of sweat at his neck. “Better than okay.”
He smiled at that, smoothing a hand up and down her spine, fingers pausing at the curve of her lower back to trace light circles.
“You were incredible,” he said softly. “Like, actually insane. You know that, right?”
She scoffed into his neck. “You mean for someone who’s never done that on a studio floor before?”
He gave a breathy laugh. “No—I mean for anyone. You think I’m ever gonna be normal after this? I’ll be standing here leading choreo next week and all I’m gonna see is you bouncing on top of me like you own the place.”
She swatted his chest, giggling despite herself, her face heating all over again. He kissed her temple in return, lazy and warm, lingering there a second longer than necessary.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He shifted underneath her, and though her body protested at first—sore in the very best way—he moved slowly, carefully, helping her up without ever letting go fully. Somewhere in the pile of their clothes and chaos, he found his oversized black hoodie and slipped it over her head before she could even reach for her own top.
She blinked up at him as it swallowed her completely, hanging down to her thighs, soft and warm and smelling like him.
“You always this possessive with your dance recruits?” she teased, voice still raspy.
He smirked, leaning down to peck her lips.
“Only the ones that fuck me dumb and then look this cute in my clothes.”
And when her knees gave a little wobble as she reached for her leggings, Sunghoon clicked his tongue and scooped her right up, bridal-style, without hesitation.
“Sunghoon—!”
“Uh-uh,” he said, arms secure under her legs and back as he walked toward the door. “Don’t even try to walk right now. You were a menace ten minutes ago, but now you’re all soft and wobbly and mine.”
She buried her face in his shoulder, laughing breathlessly. “People might still be around, you know.”
“And what? I’ll tell them you passed out from nailing the choreography too hard.” He winked. “Wouldn’t even be a lie.”
He carried her all the way to the parking lot, hoodie swallowing her frame as the night air hit, cool and crisp against their flushed skin. He set her down just long enough to open the passenger door, buckling her in like she might float away if he didn’t handle her with care.
Once in the car, she peeked over at him as he turned the keys in the ignition.
“…You hungry?” he asked, glancing at her with that post-sex softness still in his eyes.
“I mean… kinda starving.”
“Same,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her thigh, the touch grounding. “Let’s get you something good. My girl deserves a feast.”
She blinked, heart flipping. “Your girl?”
His lips curled. “Unless you’re planning to ride someone else next week?”
She rolled her eyes, but the grin was already tugging at her mouth. “Tteokbokki,” she said after a pause. “With cheese. And maybe ice cream after.”
Sunghoon grinned, shifting the car into gear. “You’ve got expensive taste. Guess I’m lucky you like me.”
And just like that, he drove off with her curled up in his hoodie, legs tucked under her, cheeks glowing from the night. Like she hadn’t just ruined him in the middle of a dance studio. Like they weren’t about to do it all over again the second she finished her last bite.
The city lights blurred past the windows, golden and slow, bathing the car in a calm kind of glow that matched the quiet between them. The kind of quiet that felt full rather than empty—like everything had already been said with mouths and hands back in that studio. Now all that was left was softness, the steady hum of the engine, and the warm scent of Sunghoon’s hoodie wrapped around her like a blanket.
He reached over occasionally just to hold her hand. Thumb brushing back and forth over her knuckles like he couldn’t help it. She didn’t say anything. Just squeezed back, leaning her head against the window as the car rumbled gently under them.
They ended up at a tiny tteokbokki place tucked into a sleepy street, still open past midnight. One of those little hidden spots that smelled like chili oil and home. Sunghoon ordered way too much—spicy rice cakes, mandu, fish cake soup, cheesy corn, and soda—and he carried the tray like it was sacred, guiding her to a small table by the window where the neon glowed pink across his jawline.
They ate slowly, laughter spilling between bites. Her hoodie sleeves kept falling over her hands every time she reached for something, and he kept tugging them back playfully, like he liked seeing her swallowed up in his clothes.
She fed him a rice cake with chopsticks, nearly dropped it in his lap, and nearly fell out of her chair laughing when he caught it with his mouth and smirked like a show-off.
“Such a menace,” she said, eyes warm.
“You like it,” he replied, mouth full.
“Unfortunately,” she muttered, cheeks tinting again as she sipped her soda.
He watched her for a second, then tilted his head.
“What’s that face?” he asked. “You’re thinking about something.”
She paused, noodle halfway to her mouth.
“Was not.”
“Liar.”
She glanced out the window, heart thudding. The neon made her reflection glow. She looked back at him.
“…I liked you since orientation,” she said suddenly, so quiet it barely made it past the bubble of the room.
He blinked.
She toyed with the straw between her fingers, not meeting his eyes. “You were performing at the welcome event. Dance team number. I was sitting way in the back, and you were just—so confident. All sharp moves and cocky smiles. And then when you bowed and laughed with your team, like you didn’t even know how magnetic you looked…”
She exhaled, still not looking at him. “I knew I was doomed.”
A long silence stretched between them.
And then she felt his hand gently reach across the table. His fingers brushed under her chin, lifting it just enough that her eyes met his.
Sunghoon’s gaze was soft but serious, like she’d said something sacred.
“You’ve been crushing on me since then?” he murmured.
She nodded once, suddenly shy again.
“Baby,” he breathed, thumb stroking her cheek. “If I’d known, I would’ve ruined you way sooner.”
She laughed, half-flustered, half-melting. “That’s not the point—”
“No, no, it is,” he said, standing and coming around to her side of the table. “Because now I get to do this properly.”
He leaned down, kissed her right in that little neon-lit diner, tasting sweet and spicy and warm. She tilted up to meet him, lips parting easily, soft and slow but filled with all the want they’d built from the moment she first watched him dance.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, breath warm.
“So… official first date?” he asked, voice husky and hopeful.
She nodded, grinning. “Only if you let me pick the music in your car.”
He groaned dramatically. “You’re going to torture me with ballads, aren’t you?”
“I already tortured you in the studio,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his again. “What’s a little IU on the drive home?”
He laughed against her mouth.
“Fine. But next time you’re riding me to my playlist.”
She flushed bright red.
And somehow, despite all the chaos, it already felt like the start of something perfect.
—
A few days passed, and with them, an electric kind of anticipation. The kind where you can’t stop thinking about someone, where every conversation feels charged with a promise of something more, where every glance exchanged holds the weight of unspoken confessions.
Y/N couldn’t help it. She replayed their night together over and over in her head—the way he’d kissed her softly, but with a hunger she hadn’t expected, the way his touch had been both gentle and possessive at the same time. The way he made her feel—seen, not just for her talent, but for who she was underneath all the layers.
And now, here she was, standing in front of her mirror, deciding what to wear for their first real date. It wasn’t just a late-night snack run anymore, no. Sunghoon had texted her earlier in the day, suggesting something a little more official. He’d promised her something nice—no rush, no hurry, just the two of them. And when she agreed, her heart had skipped a beat. She’d only been hoping for something simple, but he was going to make it memorable.
Y/N settled on a flowy white dress, soft and delicate, a perfect balance of sweet and a little bit daring. The dress was a subtle nod to the way she felt—open, vulnerable, but daring enough to finally take the leap. She paired it with simple sandals and curled her hair just a little, adding a light layer of makeup. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t just see her reflection. She saw someone who could hold her own. Someone worthy of the kind of love Sunghoon could give.
When she walked outside, he was already waiting by his car. The moonlight was high, and the soft hum of traffic in the distance didn’t seem to matter when he looked at her like that. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on her—there was nothing else in the world except that moment.
“You’re stunning,” Sunghoon said, voice low, soft with awe.
She blushed, trying to fight the smile creeping up her face, but she didn’t fight it for long. “Thanks,” she said, nervously adjusting her dress. “I was hoping this wasn’t too much?”
He stepped forward, hand brushing against her waist as he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, just barely. “Trust me, nothing about you is ‘too much.’” His voice was playful, but it held something deeper now, something far more tender. “You’re perfect.”
Y/N let out a breath, trying to hide how flustered he made her, but it was hard when he was this close, and his smile made everything else feel so… right.
“Ready to go?” he asked, sliding open the passenger door for her.
She nodded, a little out of breath, and climbed into his car. He closed the door gently and slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a soft hum. The car pulled away from her apartment, and she couldn’t help but stare at the way the streetlights caught on the edge of his jaw, casting shadows that only made him look more impossibly handsome.
As they drove, the mood felt so natural, comfortable. They didn’t need to talk the entire time. The silence was warm, like a promise of something more to come. He’d told her he’d pick the place, and when they arrived, she understood why
They pulled up to a hidden rooftop bar with strings of fairy lights hanging low above their heads, and soft music playing in the background. There was a cozy outdoor seating area, with high tables and low couches around fire pits. The city’s skyline stretched out before them, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt still.
“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Y/N said, stepping out of the car, the cool breeze swirling around her as she took in the view.
Sunghoon followed her, walking close enough that their shoulders brushed, sending an electricity through her that she couldn’t ignore. “Only the best for you,” he said, his voice low again, full of meaning.
They settled into a small, private corner, nestled close to the fire pit. He’d ordered wine and appetizers already, and as she sipped her drink, she caught herself looking at him more than she probably should’ve. She could tell he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his eyes didn’t miss a thing. He noticed her stealing glances, and the way his lips quirked up into a soft, knowing smile made her stomach flutter.
“Tell me something about you,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “Something I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “You want me to spill all my secrets, huh?”
His smile turned teasing. “Not all. Just one.”
Y/N thought for a moment, leaning back in her chair. She picked up her glass and swirled it, watching the light catch on the edges. She didn’t want to keep playing the game of avoiding him. She’d been doing that for far too long. It was time to be honest.
“I guess…” she began, voice a little quieter now, “I used to think people like you wouldn’t notice people like me.”
His gaze softened, just slightly, before he leaned forward. “What do you mean by ‘people like you’?”
She swallowed, the truth tasting both terrifying and freeing. “You know… I’m not… perfect. I don’t have that ‘cool’ vibe, or the body type people expect to get attention. I used to think I was just invisible to guys like you.”
Sunghoon didn’t react the way she expected. He didn’t get defensive or brush her off. Instead, he just leaned in even closer, his gaze unwavering.
“I think you’re more than perfect. You don’t need to look like everyone else to be the center of attention. You’ve always been noticed by me.”
The words were simple, but they hit her in a way she didn’t expect. The sincerity in his voice made her heart beat just a little faster.
“You don’t need to hide anything,” he continued softly, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. “Not from me.”
Y/N felt her breath catch in her chest, and she found herself smiling, genuinely, for the first time in a while. “You’re impossible,” she said, teasing him just a little.
“No, I’m just someone who’s crazy about you.”
That was the moment. The one that made everything feel real. She leaned in, softly brushing her lips against his once more. It was sweet, slow, the promise of what was to come hanging between them. And when they pulled away, she couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“Okay, I guess I’m crazy about you, too.”
Sunghoon grinned, leaning back in his seat and stretching out, looking pleased with himself.
“Good,” he said, before reaching across the table to take her hand. “Then let’s make this a night to remember.”
And with that, the night stretched out before them, full of stolen kisses, soft laughter, and the undeniable feeling that this was just the beginning.
