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ʚɞ summary - you’re broke, overworked, and very good at keeping secrets. camming is just a job, your roommate is just your roommate, and park sunghoon definitely does not know what you sound like when you come—until he does. one leaked clip, one locked bathroom, and suddenly “just for the money” doesn’t sound very convincing anymore.
ʚɞ tags - 18+ MDNI, f!reader, pwp, camgirl!reader, roommate!sunghoon, voyeurism, live-streaming, exhibitionism, edging, orgasm control, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, penetrative sex (p in v), unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk,
ʚɞ w.c - 5.1k
Clatter.
Your hairbrush hit the porcelain sink with a sharp, plastic crack. You stared at your own reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed, frozen, the bristles of the brush still vibrating against the white basin. Behind you, leaning against the closed door, Park Sunghoon stood, his face a mask of unnerving calm. His thumb hovered over his phone screen.
The sound that had just torn from the tinny speaker wasn’t just any moan. It was yours. A high, breathy, desperate gasp, followed by a choked, “Ah—fuck, ngh, feels so good—” before he’d paused it.
“Care to explain?” he asked. His voice was low and flat, completely devoid of the teasing lilt or the familiar, exasperated warmth you’d come to know over the last two years.
Your mouth was dry. “What—what is that?”
“You tell me.”
It had started, weirdly enough, with Wonyoung.
Freshman year, you’d won the roommate lottery. Jang Wonyoung was sunshine incarnate: bubbly, kind, and surprisingly tidy. You’d bonded over shared instant noodles and a mutual hatred for your 8 AM biology lecture. Then she’d started dating Park Sunghoon, the quiet, devastatingly handsome guy on the ice hockey team. He’d become a fixture in your tiny dorm, a silent, polite presence who’d nod hello and then spend hours on the floor, his long limbs folded as he helped Wonyoung to study.
When they broke up at the end of that year, the fallout was swift and clean. Wonyoung, tears sparkling but chin held high, packed her things and moved into a single. Sunghoon, seemingly stranded and already having moved into your dorm, had looked at you with an uncharacteristic hint of panic. “I can find somewhere else,” he’d mumbled.
“Don’t be an idiot,” you’d said, surprising yourself. “Nowhere will take you at this time of year.”
So he’d stayed. And slowly, a strange, solid thing had grown between you. It wasn’t the giggling, gossipy friendship you’d had with Wonyoung, but you found yourself enjoying his presence nevertheless. He became the person you went to for no-bullshit advice. “He asked you to split the bill on the first date? He’s cheap and insecure. Block him,” Sunghoon would say over a shared lunch, not looking up from his phone.
You’d laugh. “That’s harsh!”
“It’s true. You can’t settle for someone like that.”
In return, he’d tell you about his dates. They were fewer, but just as disastrous in their own way. You’d sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor as he paced, dissecting their texts with you. “She said ‘k’ after I sent her a paragraph about my day. What does ‘k’ mean in this context? Is it a good ‘k’? A hostile ‘k’?”
“It’s a bored ‘k’,” you’d say. “Abort mission.”
Now, by junior year, you’d become inseparable. You knew his coffee order off by heart (iced mocha with Frappucino chips), he knew your college timetable. You borrowed his hoodies, he ate your leftover kimchi jjigae when you ordered too much (which, to be honest, was every time). You’d curl up on opposite ends of the couch, your feet on his lap, and watch terrible reality TV. It was comfortable. Safe. He was your person.
But there was one thing you were hiding from him.
The camgirl thing hadn’t been some deep-seated fantasy. It was pure, pragmatic economics. Part-time jobs were picky with schedules, and the one you’d landed at a campus cafe paid peanuts. A friend of a friend had mentioned the site—it was discreet, decent payout, and you controlled everything. It started as a hesitant experiment, a way to pay for textbooks. Then it became rent money. You invested in a good webcam, a ring light, a collection of toys that you hid in a locked case under your bed. You crafted a persona: confident, insatiable, a man’s wet dream. It was acting, of course. It had nothing to do with the real you. And, of course, you were meticulous. You only streamed when Sunghoon was definitely gone—at the rink, at the library, at the gym. You used headphones and a VPN. You soundproofed your door with your duvet. It was a separate world, hermetically sealed from your real life.
And now, that world was crystallized in the palm of Park Sunghoon’s hand.
“Explain,” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small space.
“It’s not… it’s just a job, Hoon-ah,” you stammered, finally finding your voice. It sounded pathetic. “It pays the bills. You know how hard it is to afford—”
“I know how hard it is,” he cut you off. He took another step. Now his chest was almost touching your back. You could see the tight line of his jaw in the mirror, the faint pulse in his neck. “I just don’t understand why you never told me. You literally told me about the guy who picked his nose at the movie theater the other day, Y/N,” he frowned. “Why not this?”
“It’s private!”
“Is it?” He lifted the phone again. This time, he didn’t play the video. He just held it up so you could see the thumbnail. It was you, back arched, mouth open in a silent cry, a familiar silicone shape disappearing between your thighs. “Because this looks pretty public to me.”
Shame, hot and acidic, burned through your veins. “Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You finally turned from the sink to face him directly. The small bathroom felt like a cage. “Where did you even get that?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step forward. The movement was slow, deliberate. He placed his phone on the edge of the sink, screen-down. The silence was worse than the audio.
“A guy on the team,” he began, his tone conversational yet deadly soft. “He sent it to our group chat last night. ‘Hey, doesn’t this look kind of like your roommate?’ He thought it was a joke.” Sunghoon’s eyes flickered over your face, studying your reaction. “I told him it was a shitty deepfake and to delete it. I threatened to break his nose if he ever shared it again.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. He had defended you.
“But then I watched it,” he continued, taking another step. You were backed against the sink now, the cold porcelain pressing into your lower back. “The whole thing. And then I watched another. And another.” His gaze was intense, burning. “I know the birthmark on your left hip. I know the way you sigh when you’re tired. I know the little sound you make when you’re trying not to laugh.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that caressed your skin. “I know you, Y/N.”
“It’s not…” you started, but the lie died in your throat. There was no point.
“Why?” The single word was loaded.
“The money,” you breathed out, looking down. “It’s just for the money. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” His finger came up, hooking under your chin, forcing your eyes back to his. The contact was electric.
There was no teasing now. No roommate-ish camaraderie. You saw it in the darkening of his eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils. You felt it in the heat radiating from his body, so close to yours.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, his thumb stroking a slow line along your jaw.
“No,” you admitted, the word a mere breath. “It was my secret.”
“And now it’s mine.” His other hand came up, palm flattening against the cabinet door beside your head, caging you in. “What do we do with our secret now, hm?”
You couldn’t think. You could only feel. The rough pad of his thumb on your skin. The clean, scent of his body wash and cologne. The overwhelming want that suddenly drowned out the shame. You’d fantasized about him—of course you had. He was Park Sunghoon, for fuck’s sake. But those fantasies had been vague, safe daydreams. This was so much more visceral, him knowing your deepest secret, having watched you come multiple times on his phone screen.
Your gaze dropped to his mouth. It was a mistake.
He broke.
He let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his hand dropping from your face as if your skin had burned him. Then he took a full step back, turning away to rub both hands roughly over his face, through his dark hair. The sudden distance was a shock, leaving you cold against the sink.
“Fuck,” he muttered into his palms, the word muffled. He straightened, his back to you for a long moment, shoulders tense. When he finally turned around, some of the predatory intensity had been replaced by a bewildered, almost hurt confusion. “Does it… I mean, does it really pay that well?”
The mundane question, after everything, was so jarring you almost laughed. A hysterical bubble rose in your throat. You swallowed it down, your voice still shaky. “I—yeah. I guess. It’s… good.”
He leaned a hip against the bathroom door, crossing his arms. He looked like he was trying to solve a complex equation. “How good? Like, better than the cafe?”
“Obviously better than the cafe,” you said, a sliver of your normal self seeping back in. “It’s… flexible. And the tips can be… significant.”
“Hm.” He chewed on his lower lip, his eyes drifting to the ceiling, avoiding looking directly at you.
You cleared your throat. “I mean, obviously not as well as the couples on the website, but yeah. It’s pretty good.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Couples?”
“Yeah,” you said, a shaky exhale escaping you. You leaned back against the sink for support properly. “The top earners are almost always couples. People like it more, I guess? You can do a lot more with two people, you know. More… interactive. Rather than just one person, like. Masturbating, or whatever.”
“Interactive,” he echoed, his tone flat. He finally looked at you, and you saw the gears turning behind his dark eyes. There was a flush creeping up his neck, staining the tips of his ears a faint, rosy pink. It was such a stark contrast to the man who had cornered you moments ago. It was almost sweet, kind of endearingly awkward. “So, theoretically, if you had a… partner for a stream. The revenue would, what, double? Triple?”
“Something like that,” you whispered, your heart beginning to pound for a completely new reason. You couldn’t possibly be thinking what you thought he was thinking.
He uncrossed his arms, shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He studied the tile floor as if it held the answers. “And you—you’d be in control? Of everything. What happens.”
“Always. I set the rules. I can end it anytime.”
He nodded, once, sharp. He took a deep breath, his ears now fully aflame. When he lifted his head, his expression was a mixture of fierce determination and profound embarrassment. “Okay.”
“Okay… what?”
“Next time you schedule one.” He cleared his throat, his voice dropping. “I’ll… I’ll be your guest. For the—um. Interactive element.”
The world tilted. “What?”
“You need the money, right?” he said, his words coming faster now, a defensive, logical ramble. “I skip the gym anyway sometimes.” A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips and vanished. “And it sounds like a pretty good workout.”
You were speechless. Park Sunghoon, the guy who got flustered when a date used too many emojis, was volunteering to star in your cam show. To have sex with you. On camera. For money.
“You don’t have to—” you started.
“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, his gaze finally steady on yours. The shyness was still there, but beneath it was a layer of steel. “But I want to.” The admission hung in the air, raw and undeniable. “So. Let’s do it.”
A slow, treacherous heat was spreading through your core, melting the last of your shame. This was insane. This was the most insane thing that had ever happened. And you wanted it. You wanted it so badly your knees felt weak.
“Tomorrow night,” you heard yourself say, your voice surprisingly steady. “You go to the gym at seven. Skip it.”
He gave a single, tight nod. “I’ll be there.”
The following evening, even the air in the apartment felt charged. The normalcy of the day had been a fragile illusion. You’d shared a quiet breakfast. He’d asked if you wanted coffee. You’d both pretended to study in the living room, and the hours had dragged, each tick of the clock a pounding heartbeat.
At six-thirty, you retreated to your room. Your usual ritual—putting your VPN on, positioning the ring light, logging into the encrypted site—felt surreal now. You’d retrieved the small, discreet remote-controlled vibrator from its case. It was a sleek, egg-shaped thing. You’d never used it with the remote function live before; it had always been a prop, something you’d pretended was controlled by a faceless, tipping ‘dom’.
Tonight, it would be real.
You dressed in the lingerie you’d chosen after an hour of frantic deliberation: a set of black lace, delicate and sheer, more suggestive than revealing. It felt different against your skin. It wasn’t for an anonymous audience anymore. It was for him.
At five minutes to seven, a soft knock came at your door. Your breath hitched. “Come in.”
Sunghoon entered. He’d changed into sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. He looked casual, relaxed, almost, but his eyes were dark pools of focused intensity. He took in the scene, the soft lighting, the camera on its tripod, you perched on the edge of your made bed in your lace—but his expression didn’t flicker. He was in work mode.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady.
You nodded, unable to speak. You handed him the small, black remote. His fingers brushed yours, and a spark jolted up your arm. He examined the remote, thumb testing the dial and the single button.
“How does it work?”
“The dial controls the intensity,” you whispered, your mouth dry. “And the button… pulses.”
He nodded, his face a mask of concentration. “And me?”
“Start over there,” you said, pointing to the corner just out of the camera’s main view. “I’ll introduce you.”
He nodded, fingers curling around the remote. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Whatever you want,” you said, your own boldness surprising you. “Just… um,” you laughed. “Don’t make me scream before I’ve said hello.”
He gave you a slightly nervous smile. “No promises.”
He moved to the shadowed corner of your room, leaning against the wall, a silent, watching statue. The remote was loose in his hand. You took a final, deep breath, clicked the Go Live button, and felt the familiar, terrifying drop in your stomach.
The viewer count began to climb almost immediately. 50, 120, 300. Familiar usernames popped into the chat, along with a flood of new ones.
“Hey everyone,” you purred, slipping into your persona. Your voice was lower, smoother than your normal one as you played with your bra strap. A smirk played on your lips. “Miss me?”
The chat exploded with hearts, fire emojis, and greetings. You bantered for a few minutes, teasing, leaning into the camera to give a glimpse of cleavage, running a hand through your hair. You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze on you from the corner, a physical weight. It should have been unnerving, but it was thrilling.
“So, I actually have something special planned for you guys tonight,” you said, your eyes flicking toward the shadows where he stood. “A little… collaboration, if you will. Say hello to my friend.”
You gestured. Sunghoon stepped forward, moving gracefully, but there was a new stiffness to his shoulders. He stopped just at the edge of the light, his face partially in shadow, his body a tall, taut silhouette. He lifted a hand in a slight, awkward wave. The chat went absolutely feral.
injangsdad: HOLY SHIT????
BbyDvl: WHO IS THAT???!
ilovesalsa02: Bro is BUILT holy shit
heehee: why is he so shy?? u deserve a real man like me
“He’s going to be helping me out tonight,” you explained, lying back against your piled-up pillows, spreading your legs just a little. The black lace rucked up your thighs. “He’s got a little controller for this.”
You opened your legs wider, giving the camera a clear view as you took the egg vibrator and slowly, deliberately, pressed it inside yourself. You were already wet, anticipation and sheer nervousness doing their work. A soft sigh escaped you, genuine this time. You caught Sunghoon’s eye. He was staring, his jaw tight, the remote gripped in his hand tight.
“And he’s in charge of the intensity,” you breathed into the mic. “Shall we see if he’s any good?”
You gave a slight nod.
Sunghoon’s thumb pressed a button.
A low, steady buzz erupted inside you. It was a gentle hum, a pleasant warmth. You let your head fall back, a smile touching your lips. “Mmm, starting off easy on me? That’s sweet.”
The chat scrolled.
stickiriki: TELL HIM TO TURN IT UP
injangsdad: He looks so focused lol
seonwoo333: His hands…
Sunghoon’s eyes were fixed on the screen, watching the live feed, watching you. His expression was unreadable. He pressed another button.
The vibration jumped in intensity. It was no longer a hum now, more a persistent, insistent thrum right against your most sensitive spot. Your breath hitched. Your hips gave an involuntary little jerk. “Oh,” you gasped, the sound soft but picked up crisply by the mic. “Okay. There we go.”
He watched your reaction on the screen, his own breathing deepening. He was a quick learner. He adjusted the setting again, this time cycling through a pattern. It started slow, then escalated to a frantic pulse, then dropped back to nothing, leaving you aching and clenched around the empty buzz.
“Fuck,” you whispered, your persona slipping for a second. You were no longer performing for the faceless crowd, you were performing for him. You were trying to read his face, to see what made his breath catch, what made his knuckles whiten on the remote. God, you were so fucking soaked for him, pussy clenching around nothing but air, desperate for his thick fingers or that fat cock to stretch you wide instead of this teasing toy buried deep in your dripping slit.
He finally settled on a rhythm that had your vision blurring little by little: a frantic, buzzing assault like a swarm of eager tongues lashing your swollen clit and inner walls without mercy. A sharp cry ripped from your throat, back snapping off the pillows as electric jolts shot straight to your core. One hand clawed at your heaving tits, fingers twisting your stiff nipples through the sheer lace until every part of you throbbed like a second heartbeat, the other pressing flat against your quivering belly, as if you could trap the sensation inside your spasming cunt.
“Sungh—,” you almost moaned his name, cutting yourself off with a bitten lip. “More.”
He didn’t increase the power. Instead, he started to play.
He’d let the brutal pattern continue until you were writhing, your thighs trembling, until pleas were tumbling from your lips unbidden—“please, god, right there, don’t stop”—and then he’d cut it off entirely. The sudden absence was a torment worse than the vibration. You’d whimper, your body seeking friction against the sheets. He’d just wait, eyes hooded and ravenous on the feed, devouring every twitch of your sweat-slicked skin, every heave of your lace-clad tits, as you crashed down from the edge only for the hunger to claw back fiercer. Then he'd flick it on again, slamming you right back into that torturous bliss, your juices squirting in messy spurts around the buzzing egg.
It was torture. It was exquisite. You were his marionette, strings yanked by his whims, and he was discovering the joy of pulling on them. Fuck, it made you wetter than ever. The chat was a blur of encouragement and tipping notifications. The sound of digital coins chiming was a constant backdrop.
userace: Shit lmao look at that slut squirm
BbyDvl: dont let up until shes screaming
Lurkr89: Edge her until she breaks
You were close. So, so close. The coil in your belly was wound tight, a spring about to snap. You were mumbling, a stream of consciousness filled with “yes” and “there” and “just like that.” You looked directly into the camera lens. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come. Please, let me come.”
Sunghoon’s thumb hovered over the button. He looked from the screen to your actual body on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He gave one sharp, definitive nod.
And turned the vibrator to its maximum setting.
The orgasm ripped through you with no warning, a white-hot detonation that seized every muscle. You moaned, high and loud and continuous as the vibrations continued, milking the shockwaves from you, until you were a shuddering, boneless heap, the babydoll soaked with sweat, your inner muscles fluttering weakly around the still-buzzing egg.
Slowly, he turned the remote off.
Silence, save for your ragged panting and the chime of more tips. The viewer count had skyrocketed.
You lay there, spent, floating. You saw Sunghoon place the remote carefully on your desk. He stepped fully into the ring of light. He came to the edge of the bed. He didn’t look at you. He looked directly into the camera lens.
His first words on stream were not to you.
“Was that good for you?” he asked the audience, his voice a low, smooth baritone that sent a fresh jolt through your spent body. He reached down and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your babydoll. In one fluid motion, he pulled it up and over your head, tossing it aside. You were completely naked now, exposed under the bright light and the gaze of thousands, your skin gleaming.
You made a small, vulnerable sound, trying to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists in one large hand, pinning them above your head on the pillow. He held them there effortlessly, finally glancing down at you. His eyes were black with lust.
“She comes pretty easily, doesn’t she?” he said, back to the camera. A patronizing, almost clinical tone. As if you were an object. “One little toy and she falls apart.” He used his free hand to trail a finger from your throat, down between your breasts, over your quivering stomach. “But that was just the warm-up, right? You didn’t pay to just see a toy do the work.”
The chat was moving too fast to read, a waterfall of explicit encouragement and demands.
He released your wrists. “Turn over,” he said, the command quiet but absolute. “On your knees. Face the headboard.”
Trembling, every nerve still alight from your orgasm, you obeyed. You got onto your hands and knees, presenting your pussy to the camera behind you. You heard the rustle of his clothes, the snap of elastic. Then, the hot, heavy weight of his erection rested against your inner thigh.
He didn’t enter you immediately. He ran the head of his thick, hard cock through your soaked folds, gathering your wetness, teasing your entrance. You pushed back against him, a needy little grind, but he held your hip firmly, keeping you still.
“Look at her,” he said to the lens, his voice dripping with condescending admiration. “Desperate for it. She’s dripping all over my cock and I haven’t even put it in yet.” He gave a short, dark chuckle. “Should we make her wait? Let her beg a little more? What do you think, guys?”
You heard the ching of a large tip. He hummed. “A hundred dollars says ‘fuck her now.’ Can’t argue with that.”
Without any further preamble, he gripped your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and drove into you in one deep, merciless thrust.
You shrieked, the massive girth stretching your soaked pussy walls to their limit, filling every inch of your greedy hole in a way no toy ever could. He held still for a torturous second, letting you feel his veiny shaft throbbing inside you, letting the audience watch how his fat cockhead kissed your cervix while your puffy lips clung to his base.
Then he started pounding you raw.
He was relentless, his deep, punishing strokes rocking your body forward, heavy balls slapping wetly against your swollen clit with every filthy plunge. The room filled with obscene sounds: the slick squelch of your arousal coating his pistoning cock, your desperate whimpers turning to drawn-out moans, his ragged grunts as he fucked you like an animal. One hand clamped on your hip, yanking you back to meet his thrusts, the other braced on the headboard, his dark eyes glued to your face.
“See how this dirty little slut takes my cock?” he growled for the viewers, voice gravelly and commanding, treating you like his personal fucktoy. “No shame at all,” he scoffed. “She’d beg for this pounding all night if the tips rolled in, wouldn’t you?” He rammed in extra hard on the last word, grinding his thick shaft against your g-spot until you sobbed, your cunt gushing fresh juices of arousal around him.
valsbn: Fuck yeah, wreck that sloppy pussy
heehee: Pound her harder, I wanna see her squirt all over that dick
bnoo: hot as hell ill tip more for creampie close-up
pjjong: $200 to make her say thank you.
He read it. He leaned down, his chest pressing against your sweaty back, his mouth near your ear, but his words were still for the audience. “They want you to say thank you to me for railing your sloppy cunt. Think you can manage that while I’m fucking you like this?”
You were a babbling mess, reduced to pathetic whines and gasps, your brain fried from the relentless stretch. He yanked your hips back viciously, tilting his angle to batter that sweet spot deep inside, making your vision explode with white-hot pleasure. “T-thank—fuck—ngh! Thank you!” you wailed, the words torn from your throat as your pussy clenched hungrily around his invading girth.
“Good,” he purred, straightening up again, resuming his punishing pace. “But I don’t think she’s learned her lesson yet. Hiding this from me. Putting herself on display for everyone but me.” His thrusts turned feral, each one slamming his thick head against your cervix, your arousal squirting out with every withdrawal, soaking his balls and the sheets. You felt another orgasm building, clit throbbing desperately. “Should we let her come again?” he hummed, as if he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. She seems pretty greedy. Maybe she needs to earn it.”
His hand snaked around your waist, rough fingers zeroing in on your engorged clit, rubbing furious, slippery circles in perfect sync with his pounding rhythm. The onslaught shattered you—his massive cock dragging along your slick walls, hitting every sensitive ridge, while his digits ground against your nub, sending electric jolts straight to your spasming core. You babbled incoherently, a filthy stream of pleas spilling from your drool-slick lips.
“Please—hngh—please, I’ll earn it, I’ll be good—be your good girl, just let me, please—”
“Since you asked so nicely,” he said, his tone mockingly gracious, ramping up the pressure on your clit until it pulsated with need. His thrusts went wild, losing all control—frantic, hip-snapping drives that chased his release while demolishing yours, his thick cock swelling even bigger inside your clenching heat.
The second orgasm was different—a deep, rolling quake that started in your core and radiated outwards, making stars burst under the darkness of your eyelids. Your internal muscles clamped down on him in vicious, rhythmic pulses, milking his cock, and you heard his sharp, guttural groan right next to the microphone.
“Fuck—she’s squeezing me so tight—gonna—” His voice cracked, all narration forgotten. He buried himself balls-deep one final time, body jerking violently, hot ropes of thick cum erupting from his pulsing tip to paint your insides white. He pumped you full, overflow spilling out around his still-twitching girth.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the final, celebratory chimes from the tip jar on screen. The viewer count was holding steady.
Sunghoon stayed buried inside you, his weight partially on your back, both of you slick with sweat. Them, slowly, he pulled out. The loss was acute, and you collapsed onto your stomach, turning your head to look at him.
He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his hand came down hard on your ass in a sharp, stinging slap that made you yelp, your spent body jolting. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice still rough with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “They want to see you.”
You whimpered pathetically, muscles like jelly as you rolled onto your back, legs splitting open, your drenched thighs slick with sweat, arousal, and his leaking cum. Your tits heaved with every ragged breath, nipples hard. Sunghoon’s strong hand seized your jaw, fingers digging into your soft skin as he wrenched your face toward the camera, forcing your swollen lips into a pouty ‘O’ shape. His other hand clamped onto your inner thigh, yanking it high and wide to expose your wrecked cunt to the lens—puffy lips gaping, creamy cum oozing out in thick rivulets, mixing with your gushing juices to form a filthy puddle on the sheets.
Your face was pure pornographic bliss: eyes glazed, lips swollen, hair a tangled mess, and a drowsy, cock-drunk expression that left no doubt about just how thoroughly he’d ruined you. The chat exploded instantly.
userace: bet her pussys still twitching for round two fill her up again
stickiriki: Fuck i need my mouth on those tits
ilovesalsa02: holy shit she looks like a glazed donut lmao
jsxlo: $500 TO KISS HER RN
Sunghoon glanced at the monitor, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned in closer to the camera, his grip tightening on your jaw ever so slightly. “Look at her,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with possessive satisfaction. “So fucking pretty.” More tips chimed like a victory song, and Sunghoon’s smirk deepened as he straightened, still holding you in place for the audience to gawk at. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the show,” he said. “That’s all for today.”
With that, he reached out and ended the stream with a decisive click.
The sudden silence was deafening. The bright ring light felt exposing, harsh. You were both panting.
Sunghoon looked down at you, and in his eyes was something complex that you couldn’t quite decipher in your fucked-out state. He opened his mouth to speak just as your phone, connected to the stream dashboard, buzzed violently on the nightstand. The notification preview glowed:
‘you’re the only girl that i have ever wanted/every other girl is trying to be you.’ - letter home, childish gambino
ʚɞ summary - you’ve always known nishimura riki as your best friend hana’s cute little brother: too young and too silly to ever look at twice. but now his housing arrangement has fallen through, he’s moved in with you, and suddenly the lines blur, especially when he keeps you awake at night with the entourage of girls in his bed. at least when you finally snap and tell him to stop, he listens. maybe a little too well, though. because the silence that follows is heavier than the noise ever was, and when one night he walks in on you at the worst possible moment—when you’re alone, breathless, and touching yourself with his name on your lips—pretending he’s just your best friend’s younger brother is no longer an option anymore.
ʚɞ tags - 18+ MDNI, f!reader, best friend’s younger brother!riki, reader is 22, riki is 20, player!riki, f. masturbation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex (p in v), protected sex, dom!riki, sub!reader, riki is down bad, riki is kind of a jerk, obsessive!riki, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, spitting
ʚɞ w.c - 11k
The first time you heard the giggling, you tried to excuse it.
It was past midnight, and you were hunched over your laptop at the kitchen table, the blue light a lonely island in the dark apartment. Your dissertation draft glowed on the screen, a mess of half-formed arguments and citations you needed to cross-check. The key turned in the lock, the door opened with a soft shush, and then the sound: a bright, airy laugh, followed by a lower, familiar chuckle. Riki’s.
You didn’t look up. You kept typing, the clack of the keys a little louder than necessary. This is fine, you told yourself. He’s a college kid. He’s social. Hana said he would behave.
“Oh, you have a roommate?” the girl’s voice floated into the kitchen, tinged with curiosity.
My sister’s friend. The phrase needled you. It was true, of course. You were Hana’s friend. You’d met Riki when he was a wobbly toddler trailing after his big sister, his cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt or candy. You’d spent countless afternoons at the Nishimura house, and your memories of Riki were a highlight reel of childhood absurdity: the time you and Hana convinced him that eating a whole lemon would give him superpowers (he cried for an hour), the elaborate tea parties where he, draped in Hana’s old ballet tutus and your sparkly scarves, would serve imaginary cakes with grave seriousness. You remembered his high, squeaky laugh, the way he’d cling to your leg when a dog barked too loud, the nightlight shaped like a rocket ship that had to be on or he wouldn’t sleep.
But that boy was gone.
The one who’d shown up at your door with a single duffel bag and a lazy smile was a stranger to you—a strikingly handsome stranger, which was its own confusing problem. He’d shot up, for one thing. He had to be at least six feet now, all long, lean lines. His face had lost all its baby fat, revealing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and his eyes, once wide and innocent, were now a dark, perceptive brown that seemed to take in everything and give nothing back. His hair was a messy, artful tumble of black and bleached-blonde, and he moved with a relaxed, almost languid confidence that felt utterly alien. He’d thanked you for letting him crash, his voice a smooth baritone that held none of the warmth you remembered.
“I’ll be quiet,” he’d promised, his gaze briefly meeting yours before sliding away to appraise the living room. “Won’t get in your way.”
For the first few days, he was true to his word—the perfect roommate. He’d leave early, come back late, wash his single dish, and disappear into his room. You’d see him sometimes in the morning, scrolling through his phone with a faint, unreadable smile while he ate breakfast. You’d mutter a “morning,” and he’d give a slight, noncommittal nod.
But the problem started that first weekend.
It was a Friday. You’d finally collapsed into bed at 1 AM after a brutal day in the library. Just as the fuzzy edges of sleep began to pull you under, you heard it. The murmur of voices from his room, down the hall. Then a giggle. Then a low, masculine rumble you recognized as Riki’s laugh, but different—slower, richer. Your eyes snapped open in the dark.
You told yourself it was a one-off. A Friday night. He was a young, attractive guy in his second year of university. It was normal.
But then it was Saturday. A different voice, higher-pitched. More giggling. Then, around 1:30 AM, a different sound cut through the wall. A soft, breathy moan. Then another. Then the rhythmic, unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a headboard meeting the wall with a steady, cadence.
You lay there, frozen, heat flooding your cheeks. You were angry, you decided. Purely, righteously angry. It was inconsiderate. It was rude. You had a dissertation to write. You needed sleep. You squeezed your eyes shut and shoved a pillow over your head, but it was no use. The sounds were a vivid, unwelcome painting in the dark: the creak of the bed, the girl’s escalating cries, Riki’s voice, a rough whisper you couldn’t make out but whose tone was unmistakably filthy, urging her on. It went on for what felt like an eternity before culminating in a sharp, female cry and then a heavy, satisfied silence.
You got maybe two hours of sleep.
Sunday was quiet. You saw him briefly in the kitchen, making coffee. He looked tired but content, a faint bruise-like mark on the side of his neck. He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow. You looked away first, your face burning.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, his voice bland.
“Just fine,” you lied, your voice tight.
The pattern solidified over the next week. Monday: a blonde. Tuesday: a redhead. Wednesday: quiet. Thursday: a brunette with a particularly loud, theatrical vocal range. It was like living next to a poorly soundproofed brothel. Your sleep fractured into miserable chunks. Dark circles bloomed under your eyes. Your focus, already strained by the mountain of academic work, shattered completely. You’d be reading a dense theoretical text and your brain would supply the sound of last night’s gasps. You’d be trying to formulate an argument and all you could think about was the rhythmic thumping against your shared wall.
The worst part was the confusion that churned in your gut alongside the anger. Because it wasn’t just noise. It was him. The transformation was so absolute it felt like a personal betrayal. That sweet, funny little boy who used to hide behind you during scary movies was now a… a philanderer. A player who cycled through women with a casual, almost bored kind of efficiency. And your body, traitorously, had noticed the details. The way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders when he reached for a glass. The defined muscles of his biceps. The full, surprisingly soft-looking shape of his mouth, which you’d only ever seen quirked in that infuriatingly detached smirk.
It made you feel gross, this flicker of awareness. He was Hana’s little brother. You’d seen Mrs Nishimura potty-training him, for god’s sake. You’d seen him with a bowl-cut and braces. This… this physicality of him now was wrong. But when you saw him reaching for a cereal box one morning and you saw the fabric of his t-shirt pulling tight, outlining the powerful V of his torso, you couldn’t help but look away, your heart doing a stupid little stutter.
Another time, you’d dropped your pen and bent over to pick it up in the hallway. When you straightened, he was leaning against his doorframe, having just emerged from his room. His eyes weren’t on your face—no, they were on your ass, clad in sweatpants, and the look was so blatant, so slow and appraising, it felt like a physical touch. It wasn’t a glance. It was a stare, and he didn’t look away when you caught him, just let his gaze drag slowly back up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly before he pushed off the frame and walked to the bathroom without a word. Your skin had prickled for an hour afterwards.
Then there was the afternoon you came out of the shower, wrapped in just a towel, hair dripping. You’d thought he was in class, but it must have been cancelled, because he was in the living room, lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. His eyes lifted, and they didn’t dart away in polite embarrassment—they traveled from your damp hair, down over the towel tucked securely over your breasts, along your bare legs, and back up. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was heavy, hungry. It felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, mentally peeling the towel away. You’d scurried to your room, flushing from the tips of your ears to your toes, that confusing, unwanted heat pooling low in your belly. He’s Hana’s little brother, you’d chanted to yourself. You saw him in footie pajamas.
But that was the thing: you had to accept, eventually, the boy in footie pajamas had ceased to exist, and it became increasingly clear to you by his nightly routines.
You tried subtlety first. You started playing white noise on your phone: rain sounds, ocean waves, the whole lot of it. It drowned out the talking and the giggles, but the thudding of the headboard and the sharper cries pierced through. You took sleeping pills, but they left you groggy and useless the next day, and your dissertation couldn’t afford a groggy brain.
You considered texting Hana, but what would you even say? Your brother is a sex fiend and it’s keeping me awake? It felt pathetic. And a part of you, a stubborn, prideful part, didn’t want to tattle. You were an adult. He was an adult. You should be able to handle this.
So you stewed, and let the anger ferment into a thick, toxic resentment. Every polite, vacant smile he gave you in the hallway felt like an insult. Every time you heard the front door open late at night, your shoulders would tense. You began to catalog the sounds, each one a fresh brand on your patience. The click of the lock. The whispered conversations. The first, tentative moan. The dirty talk would even seep through the walls, much to your dismay. You’d be trying to read, and his voice, low and gritty, would cut through your concentration.
“Does it feel good? Taking all of me?”
A whimper in response.
“Yeah, you do. So fucking tight for me. Tell me.”
“I… I like it, Riki…”
“That’s it. Let the whole building know who’s making you feel this good.”
And she would. She’d cry out, and the headboard would pound faster. Yet another night, yet another different girl.
“Look at you. So greedy. Riding me like you’re trying to milk me dry.”
The wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin.
“Come on, baby. Squeeze me. Make yourself come on my cock.”
And she would, with a shattered scream that made you flinch at your desk. The sounds were graphic, instructional. You’d find yourself imagining the positions, the angles—you couldn’t help it. You’d imagine his hands, those large, long-fingered hands you’d seen holding a game controller or a water bottle, gripping a girl’s hips, digging into her thighs. You’d imagine his mouth, that surprisingly soft-looking mouth, on other parts of a woman’s body. The fantasies would pop into your head unbidden, shocking you with their clarity and their heat. You’d shake your head, trying to dislodge them, but they’d linger, leaving you restless and irritated.
Your work suffered. Your advisor sent a concerned email about your last draft. You snapped at a classmate over a minor disagreement. You were a raw nerve, and the constant, nightly soundtrack from Riki’s room was a cheese grater dragged over it.
The breaking point came on a Tuesday. A Tuesday. Who had loud, raucous sex on a Tuesday night before a midterm week? Nishimura Riki, apparently.
It started at 11 PM. You’d gone to bed early, desperate for just one full night of rest. The giggling started at 11:30. The headboard thumping began at midnight. You lay there, fists clenched in your sheets, counting each impact like a prisoner marking days on a wall. At 1 AM, the girl’s first orgasm echoed down the hall, a long, wailing cry that seemed to vibrate in your own bones. You shoved a second pillow over your face.
They took a break. You heard the faucet run in his room, low murmurs, a soft laugh. Please be over, you prayed. Please let him be done.
They were, in fact, not done.
Round two began. You could hear Riki’s voice now, a low, continuous stream of dirty talk.
“That’s it. Take it deeper. You can do it, I know you can.”
“Riki, please…”
“Please what? Say it.”
“Please—ngh—fuck me harder.”
“Good girl.”
Soon enough, a second, sharper climax came around 2:15 AM. You were sweating under your covers, your heart pounding with a rage so pure it felt like a fever.
And then, at 3 AM, it was still going. A third, shattering orgasm from the girl echoed down the hall, this one raw and sobbing. That was it.
A red haze descended over your vision. You threw off your covers, the cool air hitting your sweat-damp skin. You didn’t think. You just moved: stormed out of your room, feet slapping against the cool hardwood floor. You didn’t bother knocking. You didn’t even pause. You just shoved his door open, the knob rattling against the wall behind it.
The scene was illuminated by the dim, orange-pink glow of his salt lamp, casting long, suggestive shadows. Riki was on his bed, shirtless, the sheets pooled around his waist. A brunette girl—a different one from last week—was straddling him, her back to the door, her head thrown back in abandon. They were moving together in a slow, deep, grinding rhythm, and he had one large hand gripping the curve of her hip, fingers digging into her flesh, the other tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. His eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed with deep, uncomplicated pleasure, snapped to the door the moment it opened.
For a second, there was only the sound: their synchronized heavy breathing, the wet, slick sound of their joining, the soft rustle of sheets. The girl gasped, trying to twist to look, but Riki’s grip on her hip tightened, keeping her firmly in place on him. His gaze locked with yours, and in the dim light, you saw the surprise morph, in a heartbeat, into something else. A slow, infuriating smirk spread across his face—a smirk of pure, unadulterated amusement, the smirk of a guy who knew exactly what he was doing and found your furious intrusion the most entertaining thing that had happened all night.
“Well, hello,” he drawled, his voice hoarse and ragged from use. He didn’t stop moving beneath the girl. If anything, his upward thrusts seemed to become more deliberate, more pronounced, a blatant, theatrical show for his audience of one. The girl whimpered, her body shuddering. “Need something?”
All the angry, rehearsed speeches you’d composed in the dark dried up and turned to dust in your throat. You were face-to-face with a version of Riki you didn’t recognize, a version that was all animal heat and arrogant challenge. The salt lamp light painted his torso in gold and shadow. Sweat gleamed on the defined planes of his toned chest and the hard ridges of his abs. A light sheen coated his skin, highlighting the muscles of his arms and shoulders as he held the girl. His expression was a jarring mix of carnal satisfaction and mocking defiance, and the air in the room was thick, humid, and saturated with the musky smell of sex and sweat. It somehow felt both invasive and disturbingly intimate.
“Are you kidding me?” you finally spat out, your voice trembling with a rage so intense it vibrated in your teeth. “It’s three in the fucking morning on a Tuesday, Riki!”
He chuckled, the sound low and vibrating in his chest, a sound you felt in your own. The girl on top of him let out another soft cry, her back arching. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. His dark eyes raked over you, taking in your old, worn sleep shirt, your disheveled hair, your bare legs. His gaze felt physical, like a slow drag of a fingertip. “We lost track of time.” He paused, his hips giving another slow, deliberate roll that made the girl gasp. “You could always join. Might help you relax. You always look so… tense.”
The audacity. The sheer, unbelievable gall of it. It ignited something white-hot and explosive in your chest, burning away any last shred of awkwardness or misplaced nostalgia. “You insufferable, egotistical child,” you hissed, the words sharp as glass. “This isn’t a frat house! I have a life. I have work! I haven’t slept properly in ages because of your… your nightly activities!”
His smirk faltered for a millisecond, the corners of his mouth tightening. His eyes narrowed slightly, the mockery replaced by a flicker of something else—genuine surprise, maybe. He slowed his movements, his hands coming to rest more gently on the girl’s waist. “Hey, come on. It’s not that big a—”
“It is!” you shouted, the volume startling even you. The girl on top of him flinched violently. “You think this is funny? You think your little playboy act is cool? It’s pathetic and it’s rude! I didn’t agree to live with a walking, talking porno soundtrack!” You took a step further into the room, the smell of them hitting you harder. “I remember when you used to be afraid of the dark and needed a nightlight, Riki. I remember when you cried because you thought the monster in the closet would eat your toes. And now you just keep the whole building up with your disgusting noise!”
The references to his childhood hit their mark like a scalpel: his face shut down completely, the smirk vanishing, replaced by a blank, unreadable mask of stone. All the lazy confidence drained away, leaving something cold and hard in its place. The girl, now thoroughly uncomfortable and exposed, scrambled off him with a yelp, grabbing frantically for her clothes strewn on the floor. “I should, um, go,” she mumbled, her face scarlet, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Riki didn’t move to stop her. He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were still fixed on you, dark and intense. He sat up slightly, the sheets falling lower, and you forced your gaze to remain on his face. The silence she left in her wake was deafening, broken only by the rustle of fabric as she dressed hurriedly. She slipped past you without a word, and a moment later, you heard the front door open and click shut.
Now it was just the two of you, in the aftermath. The bed was a mess. The air still hummed. Riki finally moved, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He was still gloriously, infuriatingly shirtless, and he made no move to cover himself. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, looking at you. The dim light carved the tension in his shoulders, the line of his spine.
“Feel better?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of all its previous teasing warmth.
You stared at him, the adrenaline still coursing through you, making your hands shake. The flatness of his voice, the complete lack of remorse, was somehow more infuriating than the smirk. It was a dismissal. You were just a nuisance he was tolerating.
“No,” you said, your own voice cold and final. “I don’t.”
You turned on your heel and walked out, pulling his door shut with a firm, quiet click that felt more damning than a slam. You half-expected to hear it fly open again, for him to call after you, to offer some half-assed apology just to smooth things over.
Silence.
You stood in the dark hallway, listening to the absolute nothing from his room. No footsteps. No call of your name. Nothing. This brat.
The fury curdled into a sick, hollow feeling in your stomach. You went back to your room, climbed into your cold bed, and lay there staring at the ceiling. The apartment was now profoundly, unnervingly quiet. You could hear the hum of the refrigerator. The distant sound of a car passing. Your own heartbeat, slowing from its frantic pace.
You didn’t sleep. You just waited for dawn, trapped in the buzzing aftermath of your own outburst.
If it had been awkward before, the following week was on a completely different level.
Riki went back to being a ghost, but this time it felt intentional and punitive. He’d leave before you woke up. He’d come home long after you’d gone to bed. On the rare occasions your paths crossed—you coming out of your room to make lunch, him grabbing a protein shake from the fridge—the air would freeze solid. You’d mutter a tense “hey,” and he’d give a silent, barely perceptible nod, his eyes sliding past you as if you barely existed. The easy, if infuriating, nonchalance was gone, replaced by a frosty politeness that was infinitely worse.
The only benefit, you supposed, was the silence. No giggles, no headboards, no chorus of female pleasure echoing down the hall. The peace was absolute, and it should have been everything you wanted. You caught up on sleep. The dark circles under your eyes began to fade. You made actual, solid progress on your dissertation.
But the quiet felt loaded. You’d catch yourself listening for sounds that never came, and the absence felt louder than the noise ever had. A part of you, a part you hated, wondered where he was. Was he taking his “nightly parades” elsewhere? To some girl’s dorm, a hotel room? The thought shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did, a persistent, itchy curiosity in the back of your mind.
You felt guilty sometimes, in weak moments. You’d remember the look on his face right before you left. You’d told Hana’s little brother he was disgusting. You’d shamed him in front of a stranger. But then you’d remember the weeks of sleep deprivation, his arrogant smirk, and the guilt would harden back to anger.
He was being inconsiderate. You were in the right. You repeated it like a mantra.
One evening, about ten days after The Confrontation, you were in the kitchen making a late dinner when you heard him in his room. It was a Thursday. You’d just submitted a draft chapter to your advisor and felt a rare, buoyant sense of accomplishment. You were humming, chopping vegetables, when his door opened.
He emerged, and you instinctively stilled. He was dressed to go out: dark jeans that hugged his long legs, a simple black t-shirt that stretched across the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders, a leather jacket slung over his arm. His hair was artfully messy, and he smelled clean. The sight sent a stupid, unwelcome jolt through your system.
He was heading for the door, not even glancing toward the kitchen.
“Going out?” you heard yourself ask, the words coming out before you could stop them. You aimed for a tone of casual, neutral inquiry.
He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned his head. His expression was carefully blank. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” You nodded, forcing yourself to resume chopping a bell pepper. “Okay. Well. Have fun.”
“Party,” he offered shortly. “I’ll probably be late.”
A party. Of course. That’s where he’d been exporting his activities. Relief and something else, something sharper, twisted together in your gut. “Right. Well. Don’t… don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” It was an old, stupid joke you and Hana used to say.
His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second, a flash of something unreadable in their dark depths. “Alright,” he said, his voice still flat. Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
You stood there, the knife idle in your hand. The apartment was empty. Truly, completely empty. For the first time in weeks, you had the space to yourself, with no threat of interruption, no ambient tension humming through the walls. The sense of freedom was immediate and heady. You finished your dinner, ate it watching an absolutely awful episode of Married At First Sight, and felt the knots in your shoulders begin to unwind.
You were ahead of your deadlines. The silence was a gift. And your body, which had been wound so tight for so long, was thrumming with a restless energy that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with the sudden, profound absence of the very thing that had been driving you crazy.
It started as a simple thought. You’re alone. You’re stressed. You deserve to relax.
You took a long, hot shower, washing away the mental grime of the day. You didn’t rush. You luxuriated in the steam, letting your hands slide over your skin. When you got out, you didn’t put on your usual sleep shorts and baggy t-shirt. You pulled on your silky pajamas instead, and climbed into bed, the sheets cool and smooth against your skin. You picked up your phone, scrolled aimlessly for a few minutes, but your mind wouldn’t settle. It kept drifting back to the fact that he was gone. That you could make any noise you wanted, and no one would hear.
A slow, warm pulse began low in your belly. It was an idle throb at first, easily ignored. You shifted to your side, trying to get comfortable, but the movement only pressed the seam of your panties against your clit, sending a tiny, electric spark through you. You let out a soft breath.
Why not?
Your hand slid down your stomach, under the waistband of your pajamas, and over the thin cotton of your panties. You were already damp. The realization made your cheeks heat, but you didn’t stop. You pressed the heel of your hand against yourself, applying a firm, steady pressure. A low sigh escaped your lips. It felt good. So good. To finally touch yourself without the subconscious fear of being overheard, of having to be quiet.
You let your eyes drift shut, focusing on the sensation. The initial tension began to melt, replaced by a spreading warmth. You slipped your hand beneath the your panties, your fingers finding your wetness with a sense of relief. You were slick, already swollen and sensitive. You circled your clit with two fingers, a slow, lazy rhythm, letting the pleasure build in gentle waves.
But your mind, treacherous thing, needed a focus. It drifted from abstract sensation to memory. And the memories that surfaced weren’t from old boyfriends or fantasy scenarios. They were auditory. They were his.
The low, rough whisper from through the wall. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You could hear it perfectly, the timbre of his voice when it was stripped of its usual casual detachment, thickened with desire. Your fingers moved faster.
Another memory. The brunette from the other week, her breathy, desperate pleading. “Riki, please, I’m gonna—” and his response, a guttural, commanding, “Come for me, baby.” A full-body shudder wracked you. Your hips lifted off the mattress, seeking more pressure. You imagined that voice directed at you.
You were panting now, your free hand coming up to palm your tits through your shirt. You pinched your nipple through the fabric, rolling it between your thumb and forefinger, the pleasure of it making you cry out softly. The images in your head were getting clearer, more invasive. Not just his voice, but the sight of him from that night—shirtless, powerful, in control, sweat gleaming on his skin, his hands gripping those hips, that dark, intense gaze locked on yours even as he moved inside someone else.
“You always look so tense.”
A whimper tore from your throat. You were so wet, your fingers sliding easily, the sounds obscene in the quiet of your room. You added a second finger, dipping inside yourself, curling them, searching. Your back arched. You thought of his hands. Big, with long fingers. Capable hands that could grip a basketball or a girl’s waist with equal ease. You imagined them on you. One tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. The other spreading your thighs apart, his thumb replacing your frantic fingers on your clit, applying a ruthless, perfect pressure.
“That’s it, take it all. Good girl.”
The fantasy spiraled, out of control and all-consuming. It wasn’t the faceless girls anymore. It was you in his bed. You under him. You on top of him, riding him the way that girl had, his hands guiding your hips, his eyes dark and hungry only for you. The rhythm of your fingers matched the imaginary rhythm of his thrusts—deep, slow, then fast and punishing. You could almost feel the stretch, the delicious, filling pressure of him. Your breaths came in ragged gasps. You were moaning openly now, the sounds muffled only by your own pillow. You were so close. The coil in your core was wound impossibly tight, shimmering on the edge of release.
You needed one more thing. One more anchor to tip you over. Your brain, fogged with lust, supplied it.
“Riki,” you moaned into the darkness, the name a broken sigh. It felt forbidden and thrilling on your tongue. “Oh my, hngh, Riki.” You said it again, louder, as you drove your fingers deeper. “Riki…”
The climax was rushing toward you, a tidal wave of sensation. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your entire world narrowed to the frantic movement of your hand and the filthy, perfect fantasy in your head. You were chanting his name now, a soft, desperate litany against the onslaught of your pleasure.
“Riki—ah, oh—Riki… fuck, Riki…”
You were right there. The peak was a white-hot point of light behind your eyelids. Your body tightened, every muscle straining. One more second. One more—
“Y/N?”
This time, the voice was real. It was low, husky, and came from the doorway of your bedroom.
Your eyes flew open.
The light from the hallway silhouetted him, tall and broad-shouldered, filling the frame of your open door. Riki. He was still in his jacket, his hair slightly wind-tossed. He must have come back. He must have been standing there. For how long?
The shock was so absolute, so seismic, that it triggered your orgasm. The wave you’d been teetering on crashed over you with devastating, uncontrollable force. A sharp, punched-out cry ripped from your throat as your back bowed off the bed. Your hips jerked, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around your own fingers. Pleasure, white-hot and blinding, electrocuted your system, magnified a thousandfold by the sheer, horrifying shame of being seen. Your vision blurred at the edges. The sensations rolled through you in endless, punishing waves, your body convulsing through the orgasm he had witnessed, that his voice had caused.
You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. You were trapped in the aftershocks, your hand still buried between your legs, your shirt rucked up, your chest heaving. The air in the room, so charged with your own solitary pleasure a moment ago, was now thick with something else—a stunned humiliation.
Riki didn’t move from the doorway. The shadows hid his expression, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, on your exposed skin, on the visible tremors still wracking your body. The silence stretched, taut and unbearable, broken only by your ragged, slowing breaths.
Finally, he took a single, slow step into the room. The floorboard creaked under his weight. The dim light from the hall caught the sharp line of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes as they adjusted to the deeper gloom of your bedroom. He was looking right at you, his gaze dropping to where your hand was still tucked under the covers, to the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
A slow, deep breath escaped him. It wasn’t a laugh. It was something more considering.
“So,” he said, his voice a low, rough rasp that scraped over every nerve ending you had. It was the voice from your fantasy, but it was real, and it was directed at you. “That’s what you do when I’m not here.”
“What are you doing back already?” you stammered, your voice a thin, reedy thing. You jerked your hand from under the covers, tugging the hem of your shirt down and yanking the sheet up to your chin. The movement was frantic, pathetic. “I thought you were going to be out longer.”
Riki didn’t move from where he stood, just inside your door. He shrugged, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. “Was boring,” he said, his tone flat, but his eyes were anything but. They were tracking your every twitch, every rapid breath. “Didn’t wanna waste my time there.”
“Oh.” The syllable was useless. Your brain was scrambling, trying to find solid ground. You forced a weak, brittle laugh. “Um, wow. Didn’t know you could run out of prospects.”
His lips, those infuriatingly perfect lips, quirked in a shadow of his old smirk. It wasn’t amused. It was predatory. “Maybe the one I wanted wasn’t there.”
The implication hung in the air between you, a live wire. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You brushed it off with an awkward, choked sound that was supposed to be a laugh. It came out as a gasp. You cleared your throat, the sound absurdly loud. “So, um.” You couldn’t look at him. You stared at the pattern on your duvet. “How much of that did you hear?” The question was a desperate, hopeful prayer. Please, please say you just walked in at the end. Please say you didn’t hear me moaning your name like a desperate, pathetic—
He took another step forward. The dim light from the hall now fully illuminated his face. His dark eyes were gleaming, intense, fixed on you. That slow, knowing smile spread across his face again.
“Enough,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, rough rasp that made your stomach clench. “Enough to hear you calling for me. My name sounded real pretty coming from your mouth, Y/N. All breathy and fucked-out.” He took another step.
You flinched as if he’d struck you. “That’s not—”
“All that time,” he continued, cutting you off, his voice gaining a hard, possessive edge. He was standing at the foot of your bed now, a tall, dark silhouette of intent. “All that time you were banging on my door, so fucking mad about the noise… you were just mad about not being the one in my bed, huh?”
“No,” you whispered, but it was a lie, and he knew it. The memory of your own fantasy, of his imagined voice and hands, was seared into your mind, undeniable. Your protest died in your throat.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the footboard. The movement made the muscles in his arms flex, defined even under the jacket. Your breath hitched.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your flushed face, your wide eyes, the rapid pulse beating in your throat. “Your eyelashes are fucking fluttering. You’re breathing like you just ran a mile. For me.”
You were. You couldn’t stop. Every inhale felt like a struggle. He was so close. The energy radiating from him was overwhelming, a magnetic pull that your body was desperate to answer. Your mind was a riot of conflict—shame, desire, a lifetime of seeing him as Hana’s little brother, and the undeniable reality of the man in front of you.
“Riki, this is—we can’t,” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “This is a bad idea. You’re Hana’s baby brother. This is so wrong.”
The words were the wrong ones.
His face darkened instantly. The possessive heat in his eyes hardened into something fierce, almost angry. He pushed off the footboard and in one fluid, startlingly fast motion, he was on the bed, kneeling over you. He didn’t touch you, but his presence caged you in, his knees on either side of your legs under the sheet.
“‘Baby brother’?” he repeated, the words a low, dangerous growl. “Is that what you see? After what you were just doing? Moaning my name while you fucked yourself on your fingers?” He leaned down, his face inches from yours. His breath was warm against your lips. “How much more do I need to do to prove to you that I’m a man now, Y/N? A man.” He looked away momentarily, scoffing and running a hand through his hair. “And this man,” he emphasised, “is going to fuck you so hard the only name you can remember is his. Do you understand me?”
The words shouldn’t have made you clench with a fresh, aching throb of need, but they did. You stared up at him, mesmerized and terrified.
“I…” you began, but no other words came.
“I’ve wanted you,” he said, his voice dropping to a tortured, confessional rasp. His forehead tipped against yours. You could feel the tension thrumming through him. “Since I was old enough to remember. Every time you came over with Hana. Every time you smiled at me. Every fucking time you wore some tiny little outfit and talked to me like I was a kid, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to peel it off you with my teeth. Every boyfriend I saw you with, every single one who made you cry—I wanted to break their faces, Y/N. Hana would hug you, and I’d just sit there, shaking with anger. Because it should have been me. It should have always been me.”
The obsession in his voice stole the air from your lungs. It was terrifying. It was the most thrilling thing you’d ever heard.
His lips brushed yours, the lightest whisper of contact. “You have no idea,” he murmured against your mouth. “No idea what you do to me. Seeing you like this… hearing you…” he breathed out a laugh. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”
Then his mouth was on yours.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. His lips were firm, demanding, and you opened for him instantly, a soft whimper escaping you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other finally, finally pushed the sheet away.
The cool air hit your skin, but you were burning up. His kiss was consuming, a feedback loop of pent-up desire. You kissed him back with a desperation that matched his own, your hands coming up to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and the hand in your hair tightened just shy of painful.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, you taste good,” he rasped. His eyes were black with want.
Before you could process what was happening, he was moving. He shoved your shirt up, exposing your breasts, and ducked his head. His mouth closed over one nipple, sucking hard through the flimsy fabric of your bra. You cried out, arching off the bed. Then he lavished the same attention on the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak, making you gasp and writhe.
“Riki…” you moaned.
“Yeah,” he muttered against your skin, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, over your trembling stomach. “That’s it. Say it again. Louder.”
He hooked his fingers in the sides of your pajamas and panties and dragged them both down your legs in one rough, swift motion, the fabric scraping against your thighs before he tossed them aside like they were nothing. You were completely exposed to him now, your bare pussy glistening in the dim light, folds swollen and slick from the earlier fucking, arousal dripping steadily from your entrance. He knelt between your spread legs, his strong hands shoving your thighs wider apart, knees pressing into the mattress to lock you open for his inspection.
“Jesus,” he breathed, the crude confidence momentarily replaced by something like reverence. His eyes locked on yours, dark and predatory, as he stared at your exposed core, taking in every detail—the way your outer lips parted slightly to reveal the pink, wet inner folds, your clit peeking out hard and throbbing, begging for attention. “Look at you. Soaked. All for me.” He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over your heated skin, and you shuddered violently. “Been dreaming about this cunt since I knew what to do with one.”
He reached forward with both hands, thumbs and fingers gripping your outer lips firmly, pulling them apart wide to expose your dripping hole completely. The cool air hit your sensitive inner walls, making you clench involuntarily, a fresh bead of your juices trickling out. Riki’s gaze zeroed in, obsessed, his breath coming faster as he watched it glisten. Then he leaned down close, his face inches from your spread pussy, he pursed his lips and spat directly onto your open entrance—a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit before dripping down slowly, mixing with your arousal and sliding into your folds. You watched it all, mesmerized by the filthy sight of his spit trailing over your most intimate parts, coating everything in a shiny, messy sheen. It was so degrading, so gross, but the heat pooling in your core said otherwise—your pussy fluttered at the sensation, more wetness gushing out to join the slick mess.
Fuck.
You tipped your head back against the pillow, a whimper escaping as you covered your eyes with your hands, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Why did this turn you on so much? It should feel wrong, humiliating, but your body betrayed you, hips twitching toward him desperately.
“Nuh-uh, baby,” Riki growled, his voice low and commanding. He grabbed your wrists in one hand, yanking them away from your face and pinning them above your head with bruising force. “Don’t you dare. Keep those eyes on me, Y/N. You better remember every single second of this.”
The first touch of his tongue was a revelation—hot, wet, and insistent, a long, flat lick from your spit-slick entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit, lapping up the combined mess of your juices and his saliva in one greedy swipe. You jolted, a broken sound tearing from your throat. He didn’t stop, dragging his tongue back down and up again, slower this time, his nose bumping against your mound as he buried his face deeper, and you couldn’t stop your hips from lifting off the mattress, seeking more.
“Hold still,” he ordered, his voice muffled against you. His hands came up to grip your thighs, his fingers digging in, holding you open, holding you down.
He zeroed in on your clit then, swollen and aching for him, circling it with the tip of his tongue in tight, teasing loops that had your hips bucking despite his grip. Then he sucked it into his hot mouth, lips sealing around it as he nursed hard, tongue flicking rapidly against the underside. The suction pulled a mewl from you. He alternated—gentle laps to build the ache, then harsh sucks that bordered on too much, his teeth grazing lightly to send spirals of mixed pain and bliss racing up your spine.
“You’re so goddamn wet, baby,” he breathed out, the vibration against your most sensitive spot making you cry out. Your hands tangled in his hair, clutching desperately, knuckles white as you held on for dear life. He growled in approval, the sound rumbling through your pussy, and slid two thick fingers into your clenching hole without warning. They sank in easily, your walls sucking them deep, and he curled them immediately, hooking against that spongy spot inside you, stroking it with precise, come-hither motions that made your toes curl and your vision spot.
Pumping his fingers in and out, he matched the rhythm to his tongue’s assault—thrust, lick, suck, thrust—building the pressure. Your arousal squirted out around his knuckles with each plunge, soaking his hand, wrist, and the sheets below in a growing puddle. “Fuck, listen to that squelch,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to spit on your clit again, watching it drip down to where his fingers pistoned. “Listen to the sounds your pussy’s making, baby. Creaming all over my hand like you can’t get enough.”
The pleasure coiled tighter in your belly, hotter and more intense than before, every flick, every curl, every filthy word unravelling you further, your thighs quaking uncontrollably around his head.
“I’m—I can’t, Riki, please,” you babbled, voice breaking as the edge hovered, your body a live wire under his touch.
“You can,” he commanded, his voice a dark promise. “Come on my tongue, Y/N. Do it.”
It was his commanding tone that tipped you over the edge. The first orgasm tore through you, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around his fingers, your release coating his hand and chin. He didn’t let up, licking and sucking you through the shattering waves, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until you were a boneless, trembling heap, sensitive and overstimulated.
Only then did he lift his head. His lips were glistening, his chin wet. He looked up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, and slowly licked his lips. The sight was the most obscenely erotic thing you’d ever witnessed.
“Fuck,” you whispered, utterly spent.
He crawled back up your body, his weight settling over you. He kissed you again, deep and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It was intimate and filthy and it made a new, aching throb of desire pulse deep inside you.
“We’re not done,” he murmured against your lips. He sat back on his heels and shrugged off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Then he pulled his black t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
Your breath caught. You’d seen him shirtless that night in his doorway, but this was different. This was up close, for you. The defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the cut of his hips above his jeans, the way his muscles moved under smooth, golden skin. He was beautiful. He was all man. He leaned over you again, kissing you, his bare chest brushing against your sensitive nipples. You could feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans, pressed against your thigh. The evidence of his want, for you, was undeniable.
“Condom,” he muttered, breaking the kiss. “In my back pocket.”
You fumbled for it, your fingers clumsy as you reached around to the back pocket of his dark jeans. You felt the foil packet, pulled it out. He took it from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he ripped it open with his teeth. He shifted back, making quick work of his belt and the button of his jeans. He pushed them and his boxers down just enough to free himself.
You looked. He was thick, length curving slightly, the head already flushed and wet, intensely impressive and kind of intimidating.
Sheathing himself, he moved back over you, settling between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged at your entrance, which was still pulsing and slick from your orgasm and his ministrations. He paused, his body trembling with the effort of holding still.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough.
You dragged your gaze from where your bodies were about to join, up to his eyes. They were burning.
“You’re mine now,” he stated, no room for argument. “This pussy is mine. You understand? No one else gets to have it. Ever. And after tonight, you’re never going to look at me like I’m a kid again. You’re going to look at me and remember how deep I can fuck you. How hard I can make you come. You’re mine.”
You nodded, a desperate, eager sound escaping you.
He didn’t wait. He pushed forward, sinking into you in one slow, inexorable thrust.
The stretch was exquisite, a perfect, filling pressure that made your eyes roll back. You were so wet, so ready, he slid in to the hilt without resistance, his hips meeting yours with a soft, final sound.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His breath came in ragged bursts against your skin, hot and uneven, as he held himself still inside you, letting the sensation of your tight walls gripping his thick cock sink in. Every inch of him throbbed, pulsing deep in your core, and you could feel the way your pussy clenched around him involuntarily, clutching him like it never wanted to let go.
Riki lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking onto yours again, that possessive fire blazing brighter than ever. “Goddamnit, baby, you feel like fucking heaven wrapped around my dick. Waited years for this,” he panted. “Used to jerk off in my room thinking about burying myself balls-deep in this sweet little cunt.”
You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders as the fullness of him stretched you so perfectly it bordered on overwhelming.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, and he pulled back just an inch, the drag of his veined shaft against your sensitive inner walls sending sparks shooting through you. Then he snapped his hips forward again, slower this time, deliberate, making you feel every ridge and bump as he sank back in. The wet slide was obscene, your arousal coating him already, easing the way but making a slick, squelching sound that filled the room. “Listen to that sloppy cunt of yours,” he breathed, his voice husky with awe and filthy pleasure. He pulled out again, almost completely, watching with rapt attention where you were joined. “Fucking dripping for me. Can you hear it?” He thrust back in, a little faster, and the wet, rhythmic schlick echoed in the quiet of your room.
“Riki,” you moaned, the humiliation of the sound mixing with an intense, perverse thrill.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his hips beginning to set a steady, deep rhythm. He wasn’t frantic. He was savoring. Each stroke was a long, slow withdrawal followed by a firm, full re-entry that punched the air from your lungs. “Let me hear it. Let me hear how fucking wet you are for me.”
He leaned down, bracing his weight on his forearms beside your head, his face inches from yours. This close, you could see the sweat beading on his temple, the faint tremor in his jaw as he controlled his pace. His thrusts were deep, each one grinding the base of his cock against your clit in a way that had your toes curling into the sheets.
“Did I tell you to look away?” he asked, his voice strained with effort.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze. Sweat was already beading on his brow, dripping down the strong column of his throat. His biceps corded with each push and pull. He was a work of art in motion, all predatory grace and raw power.
“This is what you wanted,” he said, not a question, a fact. He punctuated it with a particularly sharp thrust that made you cry out. “Wasn’t it? You were fucking jealous. Admit it.”
You shook your head, but it was a weak denial, shattered by the pleasure drawing tight in your belly. “N-no…”
He laughed, a dark, breathless sound. “Liar.” He shifted his angle slightly, leaning over you, one hand braced by your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. The new position made him go even deeper, his pubic bone grinding against your clit with every punishing stroke. “You heard those other girls screaming my name and you pictured yourself here. Under me, taking every fucking inch. Didn’t you?”
A sob broke from your lips. It was too much. The physical sensation, the psychological dismantling. He was right. He’d seen straight through you from the start. “Y-yeah,” you gasped, the confession torn from you.
“Yeah,” he echoed, a feral triumph in his voice. His thrusts became faster, harder, less controlled. The wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting grew louder, mingling with his ragged grunts and your helpless moans. “Say it again. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you choked out, arching into him. “It’s yours, Riki.”
“Damn right it is.” He drove into you, over and over, the force of it jolting your entire body. The coil inside you was winding to a impossible tightness again, a spring ready to snap. You could feel your second orgasm building.
“I’m gonna come,” you warned, your voice a shattered whisper. “Riki, I’m gonna—”
“Come,” he snarled, his control snapping. His hips pistoned into you, brutal and perfect, and your orgasm washed over you. Every muscle seized in electric waves. Your pussy spasmed wildly around his thrusting cock, inner walls rippling in frantic contractions that squeezed him like a vice, gushing a hot flood of your juices that soaked his balls and thighs, dripping down to puddle on the sheets. Your eyes filled with hot tears, your body shaking uncontrollably. He fucked you through it, relentless, drawing out the pulses until you were sobbing, oversensitive and wrecked, your clit pulsing against him in aftershocks. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He kept moving, his thrusts becoming shorter, more frantic, chasing his own release. You whimpered, overstimulated, trying to shift away, but he held you pinned.
“Uh-uh,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Not done. I’m not even close.” He pulled out of you suddenly, leaving you feeling achingly empty and exposed. The cool air hit your skin, making you shudder.
But before you could process the loss, his hands were on you, pulling you up with a startling ease. He pulled your hips up, forcing you onto your knees.
“Up,” he ordered, his voice gravel. “Sit up. On me.”
Your mind foggy, you let him maneuver you. He sat back against the headboard, his newly sheathed cock standing straight up, glistening. He guided your trembling thighs to straddle him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his hands strong on your waist. “Now put it back in. Take what’s yours.”
You were shaking, your muscles liquid. You reached between your bodies, your fingers wrapping around his hard, hot length. You guided him to your entrance, which felt swollen, tender, and impossibly wet. You sank down slowly, a low, continuous moan falling from your lips as you sheathed him inside you once more, taking him all the way to the base. The feeling of fullness was breathtaking, different now that you were in control, that you were the one lowering yourself onto him.
“Oh, god,” you breathed, your head falling back.
“Look at you,” he marveled, his hands smoothing up your sides, over your ribs, to cup your tits. His thumbs brushed your nipples. “Riding my cock. Look how well you take it.” His gaze dropped to where your bodies joined. “So fucking pretty.”
He didn’t move his hips. He let you set the pace. You rose up slowly, the drag exquisite and torturous, until just the head of him remained inside you, then sank back down, swallowing him whole with a soft, wet sound. A shiver wracked you.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a dark caress. “Use me. Fuck yourself on my dick. Get yourself off again. You can do it. I know you can. This hungry little pussy can come all night for me.”
His words fueled you. You began to move in earnest, bouncing on his lap. Each time you came down, his pelvis ground against your clit, sending jolts of sharp, oversensitive pleasure-pain through you. Your juices coated his shaft, your thighs, making the slide easier, louder. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping, of wet, sucking noises, of your mutual groans.
“Talk to me,” he gritted out, his hands gripping your hips, helping to guide you. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels… so full,” you gasped, your hands braced on his shoulders. “So deep… you’re so deep, Riki…”
“Yeah? You like being stuffed with my cock? Like having it stretch out that pretty, used-up pussy?”
“Yes,” you whimpered, riding him faster. “I love it. I love it, Riki.”
“Tell me what you love.”
“I love… your cock,” you admitted, the words feeling dangerous and freeing. “I love how big it is… how it feels inside me… I love how wet you make me… how sloppy…”
He groaned, his head thudding back against the headboard. “Fuck. Keep going.”
“I love the sounds,” you babbled, lost in the sensation, in the permission his dirty talk gave you. “The wet sounds… I used to hate… them… but I love them now… because it’s you—it’s us…”
“It’s always been us,” he rasped, his eyes blazing up at you. “Everyone else was fucking nothing. You were made for me. Weren’t you?”
You couldn’t speak. You just nodded frantically, your movements becoming desperate, chasing that peak again. You were so sensitive it was almost painful, every nerve ending screaming, but the need was too great. You were a creature of pure need, reduced to this.
He saw it. He felt your inner walls beginning to flutter. “That’s it. I can feel it. You’re gonna come again, aren’t you? Go on, then, make a fucking mess for me.”
The third orgasm hit like a sloppy, uncontrollable explosion, tearing a ragged, ugly scream from your throat. Your vision tunneled to black spots, head thrashing side to side as your body locked up, then jerked in harsh, erratic spasms. Inside, your cunt clamped down hard on his pistoning dick, walls contracting in messy, uneven squeezes that forced out spurts of your slick, spraying messily over his groin and the sheets below. You were a sweating, shaking wreck, drool slipping from your parted lips as the waves dragged on, your hole twitching greedily, trying to pull him deeper even as you whined from the overstimulation.
“Fuck… I’m gonna… Y/N…” he gasped, your name a prayer and a curse, his voice cracking with the strain. He held you through it, his arm like a steel band around your back, his hips never stopping their relentless, upward drives. He was fucking you through your climax again, extending it, pushing you into a place of near unbearable sensitivity where pleasure and pain blurred into one blinding, brilliant sensation.
Your tits bounced wildly with the force of his thrusts, the peaks tight and pebbled. Through the haze of your own release, you saw his eyes drop, his gaze locked on the frantic, jiggling motion. A low, animal groan rumbled from him.
Before you could even come down, before the last tremors had fully subsided, his grip shifted. The hand in your hair tightened, pulling your head forward again, while the arm around your back urged you down, closer. “Come here,” he rasped, his voice thick with imminent release. “I want them—need to—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He guided your upper body down until your breasts were level with his face. Your nipples brushed his lips, and he didn’t hesitate. He took one into his mouth, hot and wet and hungry.
You cried out, a sharp, shocked sound, as his tongue lashed the sensitive peak, his lips sucking hard, teeth scraping occasionally.The direct, intimate stimulation on your already screaming nerves was too much, and yet not enough. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same fierce, devoted attention, sucking and nipping with just the right edge of teeth. Your tits were bouncing right against his face with the continued, desperate rhythm of his hips, and he leaned into it, nuzzling, kissing, worshipping you with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
The visual, the feeling—his hot mouth on you, his hard cock buried to the hilt inside you, the obscene wet sounds of your joining, the sweat-slick slide of your skin against his—it was all too much. You could feel him swelling even more inside you, feel the frantic, telltale pulse of his shaft against your inner walls.
He released your nipple with a wet pop, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut. His beautiful face was a mask of agonized pleasure, his jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple. His thrusts became shallow, frantic jerks, losing all rhythm.
“Y/N—” he gasped. His eyes flew open, locking onto yours. “Come with me,” he begged, his voice breaking. “One more time. Come with me, baby. Please.”
You didn’t think you could. You were spent, hollowed out, a trembling shell. But the sight of him, Nishimura Riki, brought to his knees—literally beneath you—by the feel of your body, by you… it ignited one last, faint ember. You focused on the feel of him, on the thick, urgent pulse of him inside you, on the possessive grip of his hands on your body. You bore down, clenching around him with every last bit of strength you had, feeling the latex barrier of the condom as his shaft swelled impossibly thicker.
It was enough.
A broken shout tore from his lips, a raw, ragged sound of pure release that vibrated through his chest. His entire body went rigid beneath you, then shuddered violently, hips bucking up in sharp, erratic jerks. You felt the hot, thick pulse of his come inside the condom, a rhythmic flooding that ballooned the tip with his load, the barrier filling with spurt after heavy spurt until it leaked a bit at the base from the pressure. His grip turned bruising, grinding you onto him as he emptied himself, grunting like an animal, sweat pouring down his temples.
The feeling of him coming undone made a weak, breathy moan escape you as a tiny, fluttering orgasm rippled through you, your inner muscles giving feeble, lazy twitches around his still-throbbing cock, a last trickle of your arousal seeping out to mix with the sweat and mess between you.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged, gasping breaths, the frantic hammering of your hearts. But slowly, the tension bled from his body. His grip on you loosened, his arms falling to his sides, boneless. His head lolled back, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in deep, heaving breaths. A sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe, gleaming in the dim light.
You were still straddling him, still impaled. You felt too heavy to move, your muscles utterly useless. You simply slumped forward, your forehead coming to rest against his sweaty shoulder.
Then, a low, breathless chuckle vibrated through his chest. You felt it against your cheek.
You lifted your head, just enough to look at him. His eyes were still closed, but a slow, utterly spent, and genuine smile was spreading across his face. It wasn’t the smirk from the doorway. It wasn’t the feral grin from when he’d first entered you. This was softer. Younger, somehow. Tired and happy.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, the words barely audible.
You couldn’t help it. A weak, shaky laugh bubbled out of you too. It sounded slightly hysterical. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming.
He opened his eyes then, and looked up at you, his gaze traveling over your flushed face, your messy hair, your body still draped over his. His smile widened.
“You,” he said, his voice rough but tender, “are fucking incredible.”
Your chest felt tight at the words.
He seemed to read the hesitation in your eyes. His smile softened further. He lifted a heavy hand, his fingers brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. The touch was startlingly gentle. “C’mere,” he murmured, his arms coming up to wrap around you properly, pulling you fully against his chest.
You went willingly, your body melting into his. The position was awkward with him still inside you, but neither of you made a move to separate. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, your nose pressed against his skin. His heartbeat was a steady, strong drum against your ear, slowly returning to normal.
You lay like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other.
But eventually, the practicalities began to intrude. You were starting to feel sore in places you hadn’t known could be sore. He shifted slightly beneath you, a wince crossing his features.
“Okay,” he sighed, his voice sleepy. “We gotta… deal with this.” He patted your back gently. “Up you get. Careful.”
You nodded, bracing your hands on his shoulders. With a soft, wet sound, you lifted yourself off him, his softening cock slipping free. A wave of sensitivity, and a sudden, strange feeling of emptiness, washed over you. You collapsed onto the mattress beside him, onto your back, staring up at the ceiling.
You heard him move, the rustle of him dealing with the condom, the soft thump as it presumably landed in the trash can by his bed. Then the bed dipped as he lay down beside you, on his side, propped up on an elbow. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
You turned your head to meet his gaze. “What?”
He shook his head slowly, a faint, wondering smile on his lips. “Just looking.” His eyes traced over your face, down your neck, over your bare, heaving chest. “You’re real. This was real.”
“Yep,” you said, your voice still a whisper. “All real.”
He chuckled. “Understatement of the century.” He reached out, his fingers tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. “You okay?”
You swallowed hard. “I’m… yeah. I’m okay. Sore. Wrecked. But okay.” You paused. “You?”
“Best I’ve ever been,” he said without a hint of irony. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Seriously. That was… I have no words.”
You believed him. The awe in his voice was real.
Silence fell again, but it was comfortable now. The tension that had crackled between you for weeks, all the anger, the jealousy, the unspoken desire, was all gone, dissipated. And the aftermath of it felt peaceful, if a little complicated.
“Hana’s gonna kill me,” you blurted out suddenly.
Riki’s laughter was a warm, rich sound that filled the room. He rolled onto his back, one arm flung “Oh, don’t you worry, she’s gonna murder me first. Slowly and painfully.” He peeked out from under his arm at you. “Worth it, though.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Worth it,” you echoed back softly.
EVERY SIDE OF TENDERNESS ──.୨ৎ park sunghoon one shot
Married to a prince who chooses silence over all else, you must learn to love him through gestures and the weight of words not said. When the truth of his past fractures your understanding of him, desire and grief blur until restraint finally breaks. This is a story about a voice stolen and what happens when devotion is no longer enough to stay silent.
sfw warnings ── NO SMUT, depictions of muteness, hand gestures depicted as some sort of sign language, crying, mentions of violence and blood, tenderness, lil bit of angst.
4k
The first thing you ever learned about your husband. the prince, came only three days before your engagement ball. It was told to you in a quiet sitting room while servants adjusted hems and measured your waist, while the palace prepared to parade you like a promise already kept.
"You should not expect him to speak to you," your mother said at last.
Her voice was almost too calm, the way people spoke when they had rehearsed a sentence many times before actually saying it aloud. You remember how her hands never stopped moving as she spoke, smoothing fabric and fixing wrinkles that weren’t there.
You asked what she meant and she hesitated for a second, long enough for you to notice though.
"He does not use words," she said. "Not with anyone."
That was all, no explanation or story ever followed, not even reassurance from your parents. You waited for more, for why, for since when, for will he ever but nothing came. The women around you kept working, pretending not to listen, pretending this wasn't the most important thing you'd heard about the man you were meant to spend your life with.
Later, one of your ladies whispered to you that it had been his choice, another murmured something about an accident years ago. Someone else crossed herself and said he'd been different since childhood. None of what you heard felt solid, just fragments and rumors, maybe even soft warnings disguised as concern.
That night, while you were all alone in your room you tried to imagine what a silent husband would be like. You realized, embarrassingly, that you had never considered a marriage without conversation. You wondered what arguments would look like, what comfort would sound like, whether silence would feel like peace...or punishment.
By the time the engagement ball arrived, you were already exhausted from thinking. The ballroom was overwhelming with light and music and voices crashing into one another, but you noticed him immediately anyway.
Prince Sunghoon stood apart from the noise, near the throne where his father sat, dressed impeccably, his expression composed to the point of stillness. He looked carved rather than dressed, like someone had shaped him for duty and forgotten to soften the edges.
He didn't speak when nobles greeted him, he didn't even laugh when jokes were offered, he did acknowledge people with small, precise movements though—a nod or a shift of attention.
And yet people watched him more than anyone else in the room.
When you were presented to him, your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You curtsied and he bowed, the silence between you stretched a little awkwardly.
"My betrothed," you called to him, only then did he look at you properly, his eyes flicked to your mouth, as if registering the sound you'd made, then back to your eyes. There was no irritation or impatience there but there was something so guarded.
He didn't respond with words, instead he extended his hand. You remember how careful he was when you took it, how he didn't rush and his grip adjusted minutely, like he was making sure you were comfortable before himself. During the dance, he never once stepped on your foot. He guided you without force, without hesitation, as though he had already learned the rhythm of you.
When the music ended, you murmured a thank you out of instinct, unsure if it mattered. He paused, then placed a hand briefly over his chest and inclined his head, it was so restrained and deliberate, it felt more intimate than any polite phrase.
That was when you understood something important, something no one had thought to explain to you. It wasn’t that you were marrying a man without a voice, you were marrying a man who had learned to speak in other ways and you were just going to have to learn how to listen.
Marriage did not change him all at once but it did changed him unmistakably. The softening began so quietly, in ways so small you almost missed them at first.
On your first morning as his wife, after you had spent the night in his chamber because the council insisted, you woke before he did and lay there watching him breathe, convinced you were intruding on something sacred. When he eventually stirred and found you awake, there was a brief moment where his shoulders tensed, bracing for expectation.
Then you smiled at him, shy and uncertain, and the tension eased, he reached for your hand without looking, his thumb brushing once over your knuckles. You later learned that this was how he said good morning.
You learned many things like that. He never spoke, but he listened with an attentiveness that bordered on devotion. In the evenings, when the palace finally quieted and the weight of the day loosened its grip on both of you, you would sit together close enough that your knees brushed and you would tell him everything about your day.
You told him about the ladies who gossiped too loudly in the halls, about the steward who always forgot your tea exactly how you liked it, about the way the gardens smelled after rain, and how it reminded you of home.
At first, you worried you were boring him. He rarely reacted outwardly, but then you noticed the way his eyes followed you, steady and focused. The way he leaned in ever so slightly when you spoke and the way his hand would shift closer to yours as if drawn there without conscious thought.
Sometimes, when something amused him, the corner of his mouth would twitch before he caught himself. Other times, he didn't even bother hiding it at all. His smiles were rare, but devastating, small things that felt like secrets meant only for you. The first time you made him smile fully, you stopped mid sentence because you were stunned.
He tilted his head, confused by your sudden silence, and when you laughed, a little disbelieving, his smile lingered longer than it should have.
Dinner became sacred, no matter how long his councils ran, no matter how heavy the day, he always made time to eat with you. The servants learned quickly not to interrupt unless it was absolutely urgent. It was during these meals that you saw the man beneath the crown most clearly.
He had habits. He always poured your water before his own, he pushed the dishes you liked closer to you without comment. When you forgot to eat while talking, he would tap lightly against the table to draw your attention back, then gesture pointedly at your plate until you laughed and obeyed.
When you asked him about his day, he answered very differently than you did. He would reach for a small piece of paper sometimes, writing a few careful words before pushing it toward you, other times, he simply showed you, with his hands moving slowly, shaping meaning in the air between you. You learned the signs quickly. How he described frustration or expressed pride. How he spoke of exhaustion without ever making it seem like complaint.
At night, when the palace grew still, he watches you at the mirror as you brushed your hair, watching the motion with a softness that made your chest ache. Sometimes he reached out to help, fingers gentle, reverent, as if afraid of doing something wrong. When you thanked him, he shook his head slightly, a familiar gesture that meant you don't need to.
The tenderness did last, but not as long as you had hoped it would. You were sitting in the morning room when you heard it, your cup warm between your palms, steam curling lazily toward the tall windows, the palace was still waking up in that gentle hour before the day truly began.
You hadn't meant to listen, truly. It started out as background noise, the soft shuffle of footsteps, the murmur of servants passing through the corridor just beyond the open doors.
Then you heard his name and you stilled, their voices dropped instinctively, the way people spoke when they knew they shouldn't. You knew then, that you should clear your throat and make your presence known, remind them sharply that discussing the prince was not their place.
But you didn't, you held your breath instead. They spoke of him in fragments at first, of rumors and things the older servants whispered to the younger ones late at night. That your husband was not truly mute. That he could speak, if he wished to, that the silence was a choice.
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest.
Then one of them spoke fully. He had been four years old when he was kidnapped in the dead of night, taken as leverage in a failed attempt to overthrow his father. They said he cried for hours, terrified, calling for a mother who never came, a father who could not reach him. His captors, frantic and cruel and desperate to keep him quiet, had hurt him in a way no child should ever be hurt.
The details were not lingered on, but you felt them anyway, suffocating. The servants spoke of damaged vocal cords, of maesters summoned too late, of a small boy found bloodied and alive against all odds. They said the healers had saved his voice technically, the sound still existed, fractured, but it was never right again.
They said he had tried to speak once after, only once. That the sound startled everyone in the room, including himself and after that he simply never spoke again.
Silence fell in the hallway and you realized your tea had gone untouched, your hands trembling so badly the liquid rippled in the cup. Your throat ached inexplicably, as if your body were mourning something your mind had only just learned.
The servants moved on eventually, their whispers fading down the corridor. You sat there long after they were gone and thought of his careful gestures, of the way he hesitated before expressing himself and how controlled and gentle he was.
You thought of the boy he must have been, so small and frightened. Hurt so deeply that silence became safer than sound.
Suddenly, so many things made sense that it hurt. That evening, when he joined you for dinner, you watched him more closely than ever before. You finally realized you had never seen him without a piece of clothing covering his neck, maybe it was hiding the scar.
At one point, he noticed your gaze lingering and tilted his head, questioning. You smiled back, quickly, reassuringly but you didn’t say a word.
When you reached across the table and covered his hand with yours, squeezing just once, you felt him still beneath your touch before his fingers curled around yours in return, he set his cutlery down with deliberate care and looked at you fully, brows knitting just slightly. He lifted one hand, palm up, fingers moving in a question you knew well. Tell me.
You froze, the truth pressing at your chest but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay it at his feet, not like this, not yet. You didn’t want him to wonder if you looked at him differently now or be the reason old wounds stirred.
So you panicked. "My lord," you blurted, the title slipping out when nerves got the better of you, "would you…would you want to have children?"
For a heartbeat, he stilled before his head tilted to the side, slow and thoughtful, eyes narrowing just a touch as comprehension dawned. And then that small, knowing smile appeared, the one that crept up when he thought he understood something important.
His shoulders relaxed and his expression softened into something amused, fond. Almost teasing even.
Oh, his smile seemed to say. That’s what this is about.
Heat rushed to your face.
"No—no, not like that," you rushed out, hands lifting instinctively as if to physically push the idea away. "I mean—yes, eventually, maybe, but that’s not— I wasn’t—" You stumbled over yourself, mortified. "I didn’t mean it like…that."
He watched you unravel with open affection, a quiet sound left his chest, not a word, but not quite a laugh either, it was something warm and breathy. He reached across the table then, brushing his thumb against your wrist in that grounding way he had.
You swallowed and forced yourself to slow. "I just…I was thinking about the future," you said more carefully. "About what you want. About what kind of life you imagine."
His teasing quickly faded after that as he studied you for a long moment, eyes searching you, and then he brought your hand fully into his and squeezed once, firm and certain. His other hand lifted, moving with intention now, his index finger pointing between you and him before nodding, as if to say with you, yes.
You felt your chest loosen as he smiled again, even gentler this time, and tapped his temple, then his heart—his way of telling you that he thought deeply about these things, that they mattered to him, you mattered to him.
The worry didn't leave his eyes completely, he reached up, brushing his thumb along your knuckles again, a silent question lingering there. You smiled back, steadying yourself. "I'm okay," you said softly. "I promise."
The heaviness doesn't leave you though, it settles into your chest in quiet moments, like when your ladies are helping you get dressed, when you sip tea that's gone way too cold, when you listen for his footsteps in the hall and realize you've been holding your breath without even noticing. Sunghoon is the same as always, still gentle and attentive and so careful with you, it actually somehow makes it all worse by making the unasked questions louder in your head.
One afternoon you go looking for him, only to find his study door slightly ajar, light spilling across the carpet, the room smelling faintly of ink and old paper. You step inside, expecting to find him bent over his desk, sleeves rolled with his expression focused. Instead, the room is completely empty, the chair pushed back with papers neatly stacked on the table.
You turn to leave but your eye catches the sight of a small leather bound book on the desk, it’s worn at the edges, its spine creased in a way that speaks of frequent use. You recognize it immediately, though you've never seen it up close, it’s your husband’s diary, the one he always keeps locked away.
Your feet stop moving even though you will them too, you will yourself to leave cause you know better, but your heart is pounding so hard and your thoughts are too tangled, and before you can stop yourself, you’re at his desk, lifting your hand towards the book.
Just a glance, you think. Just to know him better.
You open it and the page is filled with his script, all neat and deeply personal. You barely have time to register the first line before you hear the door slam shut.
The sound makes you jump as your breath stutters painfully in your throat. Sunghoon stands right in front of you, his jaw tight in a way you've never seen before. His eyes lock onto the book in your hands, and something dark flashes across his face, it’s shock followed by raw and unguarded fury.
He crosses the room in long strides and you can speak or even fully turn the book toward him, his hand comes down hard, slamming it shut against the desk.
His hands tremble and when your eyes finally meet, his are burning—hurt layered beneath anger so intense it makes your stomach drop. You've never seen him like this, never seen him look at you as though you've shattered something fragile and irreplaceable.
"I—I'm sorry," you choke out, tears spilling before you can stop them. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't trying to—please, I'm so sorry—"
Your words tangle and fall apart, useless against the weight of his silence. He doesn't even touch you or gesture anything for you to understand. He just stares at you with his chest rising too fast, as if he's struggling to rein himself in.
That hurts most of all. You feel the shame crashing over you so hot and suffocating, you can't bear the look in his eyes, the distance that suddenly feels cavernous.
So you run.
You run past him and flee the room, skirts gathered in your shaking hands, sobs breaking free as you rush down the corridor. You don't look back or hear him follow you and you feel your heart break even more.
Behind you, in the study, the diary remains on the desk while Sunghoon stands frozen in place, staring at the door you disappeared through, fury giving way to something that feels a lot like regret.
When night finally comes, you don’t bother pretending you might sleep, you stay seated at your desk with your shoulders curled inward, staring down at the ink blurred from your tears on the page in front of you. You hadn't written a single word like you had intended, your hands rest uselessly in your lap, fingers twisting together again and again as if you can wring the feeling out of your chest. The image of his face when he caught you, the sharp anger, so unlike the man you knew, keeps replaying until your throat aches.
A knock at your door startles you and before you can answer, it opens just enough for your lady in waiting to peer inside.
"My lady," she says quietly, "His Highness is here."
Sunghoon steps in behind her, tall and unmistakable even in the low candlelight. He lifts his hand in a small, practiced gesture and all the servants bow, slipping out at once, the door closing with a muted click that sounds far too final.
You stay seated cause your body is heavy, rooted to the chair, hands clenched in your skirts. When you look up at him, your eyes already burning with fresh tears. He stands there for a moment, watching you with a worry so naked it almost hurt to see, so you rush to fill the silence.
"My lord, I'm so sorry," you say quickly, voice trembling. "I shouldn't have touched it, I know it was wrong, I just—" He crosses the room before you can finish.
Instead of stopping in front of you or gesturing for you to stand before him like you expect, he sinks down slowly until he’s kneeling between your knees. The movement knocks the breath from your lungs, as he leans forward and lowers his head into your lap, resting the side of his head against you. His hands slid to either side of your hips, palms flat against them. You feel his breath through the fabric of your gown very uneven.
The apology comes without a single sound, his shoulders bow inward, the tension in them finally breaking. He stays there, unmoving, trusting you not to push him away. Trusting you with something that he’s never offered anyone else.
Your hands hover uselessly for a second, unsure and afraid to do the wrong thing again. Then you touch him, your fingers threading gently through his hair, careful at first, then softer and cradling. You feel his breath stutter and a tear slips down your cheek, landing somewhere in his hair, and you don’t bother wiping it away.
"Oh," you whisper, the word barely surviving the lump in your throat. "Sunghoon..."
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes red and stripped bare of all princely composure, there was no anger left there, only fear and regret tangled together, the quiet terror of someone who thought he might have lost the one place he felt safe.
You’re already crying openly now. "I shouldn't have looked," you say softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...I heard things. And I didn't know how to ask."
He raises one hand slowly, hesitantly even, as if afraid you might pull away. His thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching a tear with aching care, before leaning in again to rest his temple against your stomach this time.
You let your hand settle on his shoulder, in that stillness, with candlelight flickering over the walls and the world kept firmly outside your door, the silence between you felt different, kind of like understanding and you even feel your chest loosen enough for you to breathe.
You feel yourself lean down before you can overthink it. It’s barely a kiss, in all honesty, it’s more breath than pressure. Your lips brush his like you’re testing something fragile and the moment lingers for half a heartbeat before reality crashes in and you pull back sharply.
"I— I’m sorry," you whisper, flustered and embarrassed. "I forgot myself."
You don’t get the chance to finish because he moved and kisses you himself this time, without hesitation. His mouth claims yours with a quiet urgency that immediately steals the air from your lungs. It’s deeper and firmer than yours was, his kiss leaves no room for doubt.
He rises to his feet without breaking the kiss and lifts you with him in the same motion. Your feet barely find the floor before you’re pressed close, your body fitting against his as if it has always known where it belongs.
His hand comes up to the back of your head in a possessive hold, fingers threading into your hair as he tilts your face exactly where he wants it. The sensation makes you whimper softly, the sound surprising even you. He pulls back just enough for you to see his face.
The look in his eyes makes your knees go weak, it’s all want and it makes your stomach curl as you tremble with anticipation.
You can feel him growing needier when he leans down to kiss you again, in a way that feels almost instinctive, like he’s been holding this inside his body for the months you’ve been married and now that it’s been unlocked, he doesn’t know how to stop.
His hand comes up, firm and warm, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your dress, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, his lips press there, along your jaw, just beneath your ear, and the sensation makes your knees wobble. You cling to his sleeves, fingers tightening as you gasp.
"My lord—" you stutter, voice trembling. "Please…slow down."
And he does, immediately even, he stills as if struck, pulling back to look at you. He lifts both hands to your face, cradling your cheeks cause to him you’re something so precious, something fragile. His thumbs brush beneath your eyes, wiping away the tears you didn’t realize had fallen.
Then his mouth opens and you freeze, at first nothing comes out. His throat works, jaw tight, his breath uneven. When sound finally does emerge, it’s broken and cracked. It hurts to hear and yet it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever known.
"I—"
The word fractures halfway through and his voice catches painfully. He swallows but his eyes never leave yours, refusing to look away or retreat.
He tries again.
"Y—Y—ou’re…s—s—o b—beautiful."
The words come out uneven, carved straight from his chest, you can proudly say. You gasp, your hands flying to his wrists, your whole body going still in shock. Your eyes burn, vision blurring as the weight of it crashes into you and it’s not just the words, but the effort it costs him to say them.
He doesn’t stop, he’s not done. His thumbs press more firmly into your cheeks, his voice shakes and cracks again, but there is no hesitation now, just undeniable determination.
"I…I love you," he says, broken and raw. "So…much."
It sounds like a vow, like a confession torn out of years of silence.
You sob quietly, forehead falling against his chest as he pulls you in, holding you like he’s afraid the world might take you away if he makes the mistake of letting go. His chin rests on top of your head, he huffs out a breath, as if saying those words has finally let him breathe properly for the first time in his life.
He doesn’t need to speak again.
He’s already said everything.
nene’s note ── thank you to my love @ikeukiss for titling this one for me, guys i was too lazy to make a banner im sorry, i hope you enjoy! i love feedback💋
Synopsis: The First Princess of Phileon was a rather heavy title to bear. Especially when you wanted to become Queen. In a world where you were starved of power, your knight was the only one who supported your bloody endeavours. But was it his fealty that did it, or was it his heart?
Pairing: Knight!Nicholas × Princess!reader, includes members of &Team and Haruto of Treasure
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, wet dream (m), masturbation (f), p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), cumming inside, fingering, BIG DIH NICHO EYYY (i have a thing ok), hair-pulling, virginity loss, dom!nicho, sub!fem!reader, themes of war and bloodshed (descriptions of gore towards the end), reader is EXTREMELY power hungry, me portraying Haruto as a piece of shit I promise I love him irl he's my baby, YEARNINGGGGGG, dramatic ahh verses
A/N: MONA &TEAM DEBUT YALLLLLL this fic is my child and i love her. Big shoutout to my baby Kayz @wichujunseo for listening to me scream about knight weno and then proceed to not write about him. Tagging @frenchkisstheabyss because nicho is her man. I'm very happy to FINALLY be joining &teamblr y'all are so cool here please adopt me. As always, enjoy my darlings!
Word Count: 15k (im so sorry but poetic verse gang, smut itself was 3k)
“How many days has it been since you’ve eaten properly?”
You didn’t bother lifting your head from the giant encyclopedia to see who stood before you. You’d have recognised that voice from a mile away, the same low tone that had always scolded you with soft words.
“Enough to not die.” You responded, tracing over a lengthy paragraph, “This is the last one, I promise.” You looked up to flash him a winsome smile, only for it to falter as you met his soft gaze.
Truly, the most dangerous knight in all the kingdom was soft as chocolate pudding for the princess he pledged his fealty to.
Nicholas Wang.
What had you done to deserve Nicholas Wang?
“Don’t look at me like that,” You mumbled, ducking behind your book. He sighed and stepped closer, the scent of paper clinging to him from hauling half the archives of the library to your desk. He was dressed casually today, a white shirt and black trousers. The golden hilt of his sword caught the chandelier’s light, matching his hair.
“Your Highness,” Nicholas said, a chiding tone to his voice, “you’ve been here since dawn. It's nearly dusk now.” He closed the encyclopedia and slid it away, “Nothing good will come from torturing yourself.”
“I’m not–” You stopped short at the sight of his furrowed brow. Maybe you were taking this way too seriously.
But how could you not? At long last, your father had promised to let you take part in Court if you could memorise the entire genealogy, history and culture of the four key kingdoms which bordered yours, all in a month.
From Nicholas’ point of view, this was no difficult task for you. If you were the same princess he had seen engaged in debate at banquets with nobles, kings and queens twice your age and experience, then you could have accomplished this with ease. A royal daughter was meant only for marriage and as an advisory to her kingly husband, and you were brought up on wars, territorial conquests, treaties and the usual. You were brought up to be the one sitting on the throne.
“Hot chocolate?” Nicholas asked, “I’ll ask Marcille to make you some if you have supper. And no.” He raised a brow as you opened your mouth, “Cheese and crackers do not count as a meal.”
You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms with a faint pout dancing on your lips. Adorable, Nicholas thought.
“Well,” You sighed dramatically, “I cannot disobey the great knight Nicholas can I?” Your lips morphed into a cheeky smile, "Strongest in all the realm, youngest blood to ever grace the ranks of Phileon, the lone wolf of—”
“Alright alright.” Nicholas crooned, ears red as ever, “Shall we, Your Highness?” He extended a hand forward.
“Since when do you call me ‘Your Highness’?” You chuckled, taking his hand and standing up. His palms were rougher than yours, scarred all over, as was expected of any good knight who had been through the terrors of war, no matter how young he was. You always told him his scars looked like lightning bolts, something that made blood rush to his cheeks.
“Since I realised I am your personal knight and not your friend?” His words sounded hurtful, but you knew he only jested. Nicholas was the greatest friend you had that was your age, and you always believed your friendship transcended the knight-princess relationship.
“Ha ha.” You deadpanned. Draping your shawl over your shoulders, you cast a look at the towering bookshelves of the grand library, sick of it now that you had spent a month camped in its corners.
“I don’t think I’ll be coming back here ever again.” You walked out of the library, with Nicholas trailing behind you, “The very smell makes me want to throw up.”
“I believe that’s the hunger speaking.” Nicholas commented, walking painfully slow to keep his position behind you.
That’s where he’d always remain, a fleeting thought came again. Behind you. Not beside you, not your equal, not worthy enough for you. If only, Nicholas often thought, if only lady luck had favoured him, he would have been up in that dais of princes all competing for your hand, competing for the throne. He didn’t give a damn about the throne. All he wanted was you.
“Nichoooo.” You stopped in front of him in the empty hallway to the dining room, “Earth to Nicho.” You snapped your fingers in his face, “What’s gotten you in a spiral all of a sudden?”
Nicholas stared at you, your features illuminated by the soft light of the candle. The moon was as good as full tonight, its sheen filtering through the grand windows and making you look angelic.
Perhaps in another universe, he could have crawled into your arms and wrapped himself in the warmth like ivy, catching your laughter in the air and bottling it for himself. Perhaps in another universe, he was yours and you were his, ordinary people doing ordinary things. But in this one, he was your war torn knight, and you were his liege to serve and to protect.
“It’s nothing. Just dreaming about my bed again.” You rolled your eyes and punched his arm playfully.
“You got me all worried, you idiot.” You laughed, leaning against the wall, “May I ask you something?” He nodded gently, leaning next to you, “Do you–” You took a breath, “do you think I’d make a good ruler?” There was silence, and you laughed crudely at yourself, “Forget I asked, it’s a stupid quest–”
“I think–” Nicholas’ voice was as tranquil as the air, “–you would make a great ruler.” You turned your head to face him, those familiar eyes of perpetual calm, never once had you ever seen them falter.
“You know I would never jest with you.” He said, faded scars on his cheek glimmering in the light, “Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of Phileon.” He placed his hand on his chest and bowed deep, much to your surprise. You stayed silent. What could you even say?
Queen of Phileon, how melodic those words sounded to your ears.
How often had you gazed at the ruby crested throne in the main hall, with absolute adoration in your eyes? The throne meant power, and you were starved of power. You weren’t about to give it up to your dimwit of a younger brother, on the mere fact that he was a son and you were not.
“Sometimes,” You put your hand on his shoulder, making him stand back upright, “I think you’d make a fine accomplice to usurp the throne with.” Your hand slid down to brush his sword hilt, "First Knight of the Realm, Nicholas….” You looked up at him, “Has a nice ring to it doesn't it?” You retracted your hand as soon as you met his gaze, “I’d give you the title if I ever became Queen.”
Though he knew you were kidding, Nicholas didn't really mind encouraging the idea of overthrowing your younger brother, the crown prince.
He still remembered the day you asked the King for permission to participate in Court proceedings. The King’s cold laugh, his brief remark on women not befitting politics, the look of defeat on your face—Nicholas would have ran his blade through the highest man in the land for you right there and then.
And then the King had asked him for his opinion. “What say you, Nicholas?” The King leaned back in his throne, “Shall we let our princess meddle in the affairs of men?”
‘Let her meddle.’ Nicholas remembered thinking, ‘Let her meddle and you will have an empire far greater than any other to have existed in history.’
And so the challenge had been set—one month and a thousand rituals to memorise, all because of Nicholas’ sweet words landing perfectly in the King’s ears. Which is how he had ended up here, looking into the eyes that always steadied the ground beneath his feet.
“So you’ll play favourites when you are Queen.” He said, closing his eyes in faux disappointment, “How un-diplomatic of you, Your Highness.”
“Oh come now.” You scoffed, walking towards the dining hall, “As if you would like to lead armies and attain great glory.” He laughed, “They didn’t call you the lone wolf for nothing.”
“A pitiful moniker, is it not sister?”
Nicholas’ smile disappeared as fast as lighting at the sight of the man leaning against the doorframe of the dining room, all cocky tongue and no mind to prove it (at least in Nicholas’ high opinion). How such a man shared blood with you, he could never understand.
“Wow.” His voice was lazy and prosaic like a cat’s, “Haven’t seen me all month and not so much as a hello? Some step-sister you are.”
“Haruto.” You nodded, forcing a polite smile, “I trust your expedition to Eldanith was successful.”
“Oh it was more than successful.” Haruto scoffed, “They were practically begging to trade with us by the time I was done with them.”
Yes, with the plans I designed, you asshole. You forced your thoughts down, “As expected of our crown prince.”
“You flatter me.” Haruto smiled, “And Nicholas!” A smirk adorned Haruto’s youthful face, “How have you been, our lone wolf?”
My lone wolf, you thought, not ours. You shook it off though, it wasn't like Nicholas belonged to you or anything.
“Fine, Your Highness.” Nicholas held not a hint of emotion in his voice.
“Don’t be so cold now, old boy.” Haruto laughed, “We are friends, are we not?”
“I do not know, Your Highness.” Nicholas responded, “To me, you are merely the brother of the liege I serve.” He bowed his head in feigned servility.
“Is that so?” Your brother grimaced, his eyes flicking to you, “My my sister, you’ve acquired a golden guard dog for yourself.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and stood up straight, as if to intimidate you with his towering frame, “How lucky you are.”
“It is all due to the graciousness of His Majesty, the King.” You said, “Now you must excuse me brother, I am famish–”
“Your test for a seat in Court is tomorrow, is it not?” Haruto bent down to your eye level, a particularly irritating thing he used to do before his belittling began, “I wish you good luck and if ever you need any counselling—” He stood back straight, “—I am always available.” He had held out the red flag like a matador, “Good night, dearest sister.”
You were not one to be easily baited into a storm of fury, but by God did your brother come close. Nothing would have pleased you more than to unsheath a dagger and let it dance across his neck. You wanted his power. You wanted his blood.
“My lady?” Nicholas said gently, as you stared off in the direction Haruto had headed off in, “Are you alright?”
Silence followed for a minute before a shaky sigh broke it. “I have to be, don’t I?” Your laugh came hollow, “I swear, one day–” Your voice dropped to a whisper lest the walls listen in, “–I will tear that bastard’s heart out from his chest.”
You turned to him, and Nicholas would have burned the world down for you at that moment. His hand moved as if it had a mind of its own, to brush away the stray tear on your cheek. For the world, you had to be the regal first princess, as constant and unmoving as the Northern Star. He was the one that you could soften your defenses around, lower the drawbridge and let the legions in.
“You will.” Nicholas squeezed your hand, “One day, you will do all that and more.” His warm smile made your chest feel lighter, “For now, how about hot chocolate?”
You smiled, wiping your face, your ears turning hot from the sudden emotional outbreak. Nicholas’ hand was warm around yours, yet you tugged it away as if it were red hot. Nicholas withdrew as well.
He was your knight, as you were his liege.
Nothing more, nothing less.
_______________________
Nicholas caressed your cheek with his slender, scarred fingers, his thighs rubbing against yours as he laid you back on the bed. You sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up robe.
He paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless, looking down at your smile—a smile that was so beautiful that it rendered him speechless.
“Nichooo,” Your whines were music to his ears as his gaze trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. He began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.
“Nicho—need you so bad.” You groaned, hands palming his biceps, “My knight.” Nicholas felt your hand palm his length, your thumb lazily dragged on the tip of his cock, “Is this making you feel good?" You asked him, your voice seductive as a siren’s as you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.
Nicholas kept a hand on your hip, using it as leverage as he slowly entered into you. He maintained a desperate pace, revelling in the way your walls hugged his cock so perfectly.
“Nicho Nicho Nicho!” You gasped, arching into him, the air caught in his throat as his tongue found your nipple, “Love you so much Nicho, God I love you..”
“Princess I–”
Moonlight filtered in through the window, bathing everything in a soft filter as Nicholas sat up in his bed, chest moving up and down as he tried to calm his heart. Throwing his blanket off his body, his face burned as he saw the damp patch on his nightpants. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips as he got up and walked over to the washbasin.
Nicholas splashed his face with water a tad too aggressively, slapping himself awake. It must have been around 2 in the morning. He could hear owls singing their mysterious songs outside and the chirping of crickets. He stared at himself in the mirror, and then closed his eyes.
What the fuck had he dreamt about?
Locks of luscious hair sprawled against a pillow, thighs that he wanted round his neck, a face that brought him down to his knees as if to pray. You.
He shook his head, and breathed slowly, looking at himself in the mirror again.
“Idiot.” He scolded himself, “Absolute fucking idiot.” He dragged himself back to bed, collapsing into the mattress. Throwing an arm over his head, Nicholas sunk into his sheets, staring into the distance, hesitant to go back to sleep. Would he see you again? You in all your glory, resting on his bed like a deer asking to be hunted, he felt like a wolf on the loose.
“Ahh princess.” He chuckled, “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
The moonlight bathed his room in soft filters.
Nicholas dreamt of chocolate covered lips and an angel he could never have.
_____________________
Lone wolf, one of the many monikers Nicholas had earned before he began serving as your personal knight. Rumor claimed he had started fighting in Phileon’s army at fourteen, a scandalously young age. Nicholas neither confirmed nor denied the stories, preferring to leave you disappointed, pouting every time you pressed him for the truth. Fiction or not, he rose through the ranks quickly, gaining recognition for his solitary fighting style and rebellious nature.
You remembered the day your father introduced you to him, deciding at last that the First Princess of Phileon deserved more than the scraps left behind once her brother had finished with them. It was the eve of your seventeenth birthday and 17 year old Nicholas stood before you, all scars and clumsy courtesies. It had been almost six years now, you were 23 and he was still there by your side—for every single tea party, banquet and debate.
Nicholas had fought his battles with his sword and shield, but it was in the blinding light of the palace’s ballroom that he found a different kind of warrior.
He saw that warrior now as you walked the grand corridors, head held high. Your weapons were everything you had forced into your mind over the past month, and you hoped they would be enough for the war ahead.
“Your Highness.” Nicholas whispered behind you, as you both stood in front of the Great Hall’s doors, “You can do this.”
You glanced back at him with a small smile, before sucking in a breath and nodding at the soldiers to open the doors. You placed your hands over your dress and rolled back your shoulders. This was your future, you were going to grab it by its neck and take it for yourself.
“Her Royal Highness, the First Princess of Phileon!” The court herald’s voice boomed, as he bowed to you. You could hear Nicholas’ armour clank as he stopped at the foot of the door, leaving you alone to walk into the battlefield.
The grand hall stretched before you like a river of stone and gold, sunlight spilled through towering stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor. Each step you took echoed too loud, your heart was threatening to burst from its cage with how hard it was beating.
Ministers sat in rigid rows along the path. You recognized them all—some open and familiar, others closed and cold. The latter were loyal to your brother, no doubt scandalized by the very idea of allowing you to walk into this hall.
You kept your gaze forward; at the dais sat your father, draped in gold, a ruby-crested crown upon his head—the crown you coveted. Beside him lounged your brother, posture infuriatingly careless. To his right sat his mother, your father’s favored concubine, crowned by the son she bore him. He was no mourner at your mother’s funeral with her at his side.
“Your Majesty.” You reached the foot of the throne and bowed deep, "I greet the Sun of Phileon and thank him for the kindness he has bestowed upon me.”
“My daughter,” he said, eyes narrowing just a fraction, “I had hoped time might teach you restraint, yet here you stand." He gestured to the smaller throne beside him, your late mother’s seat. “Tell me—do you truly believe your intention alone can make you worthy of this throne?
Before you could speak, a minister to your left scoffed, “Your Majesty,” His lips curled, “perhaps we ask too much. After all, sentiment and softness are virtues of women, not of governance.” You turned your head slowly toward him, all you could see at that moment was red.
“Come now, Minister Halvern,” An earthly calmness laced your voice, “how often do men confuse cruelty with strength?” You smiled, “You sit there as head of defense, armored in titles and age, yet you fear the thought of a mere woman standing here?”
Nicholas swallowed a laugh at the Minister’s flushed face. Haruto watched on, not one quip came from him; you knew he was waiting for the moment you would slip.
“Do you claim sentimentality to be a kingly virtue then, daughter?” Your father’s laughter was a lion’s roar, “Then we shall fight the next war with tea cloths and puddings.”
“If emotion were weakness, Father, this kingdom would have fallen long ago.” You kept your gaze to your father’s, refusing to flinch away, “Or shall we all pretend that it was reason and logic alone that held these walls upright? Reason that never bled and never grieved to the point of invention?” Your nerves hummed beneath your skin, as the court held its breath to listen.
“Is it not compassion that gives policies their purpose? Does this court not debate everyday to protect the warmth of the people that make this kingdom thrive? If compassion is truly a woman’s flaw,” You glanced at the turnip coloured minister, “then His Majesty must apologise for having used it to bring glory to our kingdom.”
You returned your gaze to your father, who seemed to be studying you intently. He exhaled softly, the sound almost a laugh, though there was no mockery in it. He leaned back against the throne, fingers steepled, regarding you with a curious expression.
“Well said.” He proclaimed, “You’ve made your case quite clearly.” He rose, just slightly, resting his weight forward. “So we proceed as agreed gentlemen.” He swept his gaze over the ministers, “Go ahead and test the princess. Censure her in your wisdom and may your judgement be unclouded.”
You felt a quiet swell of pride settle within you, pulse thrumming from the exchange. Your eyes drifted almost unconsciously to the throne.
You could see yourself upon it, crown upon your head and you would hold it high no matter how heavy it was. Power was all you saw and it was all you lusted after.
Your vision shifted to the side, Haruto’s posture was rigid, the praise in the hall had not been meant for him, and he felt its absence keenly. You noticed the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his side. Internally, you were punching the air in victory.
From where he stood, Nicholas felt his heart betray him, no longer the steady, disciplined thing forged by years of war, but something restless and aching. It pressed hard against his ribs as he watched you, as though it sought you out instinctively, answering a call it had learned long ago and never forgotten. How he wished to shout it out, that it was his princess up there, adorned in radiance and wisdom.
Nicholas watched as you laughed politely, answering each and every question thrown to you as if it were normal conversation. You could have pressed the blade of a dagger to his chest and Nicholas wouldn't have minded; he would bring himself closer, lest you were feeling cold.
Love, honor, pain—were they not kin to a knight? Nicholas had pledged his fealty, never knowing love would be the vow denied to him.
___________________________
“Oh how I’ve missed you.” You exclaimed as you collapsed face-front onto your soft mattress, “My beloved partner.”
“You do realise you are insane?” Nicholas shut the door after him, clearing his throat theatrically, “Have you consummated the wedding yet?” He barely managed to dodge the pillow that flew at his face.
"At least my bed gives me some comfort.” You scrunched your nose at him before squishing your face between your pillows. Nicholas leaned against your bedroom wall, crossing his arms, his gaze drifting over you.
Locks of luscious hair sprawled against a pillow, thighs that he wanted round his–
“Sir Nicholas, I am talking to you!” The pillow hit him in the face this time, “Did something happen?” You sat up against the headboard, “You kept staring into space earlier too.” Your knight shook his head gently, diverting his eyes to the ground, “I’ve known you for six years now Nicho, tell me what happened.”
“Just–” He began, you're what happened princess, “—didnt get much sleep last night, my lady.”
You studied him for a moment, and the excuse rang hollow. You tilted your head, unconvinced, but you did not press him any further. Instead you tapped the place next to you on the bed, “Lay down for a while.”
Nicholas was someone who had been in more near-death events than anyone could ever imagine. However this would be what finally wiped him out.
“I would like to stay un-executed thank you very much my lady.”
“Oh sit down.” You repeated, firmer this time, “It’s not like you’re my husband or anything.”
Yep, this would be his swan song.
He hesitated for a moment, before pushing himself off the wall and crawling into bed, his movements slower than a turtle. It creaked a little too loudly as he sat, careful to keep his hands folded, his posture respectful, as though still on duty. You snorted.
“You look like a frightened deer.” You laid down next to him on your side, running your gaze over his figure. The room seemed to soften around the silence that fell, the distant hush of the palace, the muted glow of the lamps and the faint sounds of the kingdom's evening.
Nicholas eventually gave in to the comfort of the soft mattress, laying his head down on the pillow. You two often shared this familiar quiet after long days and finished duties. It was the silence of companionship, of knowing one did not have to perform or explain.
For your knight, it was a rare mercy. His shoulders eased, his breathing slowing as the calm wrapped around him, easing the strain he carried so often without complaint. What Nicholas would give to stay like this forever, in your presence, a knight and his princess laying on a bed under the same moonlight all the knights and princesses before them had admired.
“Nicho?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever think about the future?”
“Not really.” Nicholas stared at the ceiling, “Do you?”
“Only recently.” You said in a morose tone, “My friends from the East–” A breathy chuckle escapes you, “—their mothers keep going on about marriage and they keep sending me letters about it.” You sighed, “Say, when I get married, would you still be allowed to be my personal knight? Or is that something my future husband is supposed to do?”
Nicholas was quiet for a moment, the question settling between you like a stone dropped into still water. He shifted slightly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
“I suppose that would depend,” he said carefully, “On what kind of husband he is. And what kind of court he keeps.”
He finally turned his head to look at you, expression gentle, almost shy. “If the question is whether I would want to remain by your side,” he continued, “the answer doesn’t change with the prospect of marriage. My fealty lies with you, my lady, no matter storm, ocean or desert,,” he chuckled, “or vows.” The candlelight softened the sharp lines of his face, catching along his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose.
“If,” Nicholas started again, “if you get married…..then I imagine things would change. But only if you wish them to.” He glanced away again as if to give you room to breathe, “But you’d make your own rules anyway, wouldn't you, princess?”
There was warmth in his eyes as he finally met your gaze, the way his mouth curved when he smiled made something deep in your chest flutter. Your knight looked so beautiful like this, soft as chocolate pudding.
“If indeed.” you echoed, tasting the word. After a beat, you let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know why everyone speaks of it as though it’s inevitable.” You looked away first, faintly flustered, unaware that you had already set his heart racing all over again.
“Did you see the throne today Nicholas?” Your gaze drifted upward, and Nicholas saw that familiar gleam in your eyes, “It caught the light so perfectly from where I was standing...”
“One day, Your Majesty,” His voice came like the rumble of the earth, “you will sit on that throne, and bathe in all its glory.” You found his eyes beautiful in a way that felt almost ache-like.
“You will stand with me, won't you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself, “No matter how much blood must be shed?”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, softly, “As I said,” He turned to rest on his side, “my fealty lies with you.” He pressed a hand to his sword, “This blade will obey your command without a second thought.” He leaned forward, as if telling you something forbidden, “Only yours.”
Your gaze lingered longer than you intended, tracing his details. The small scar at the corner of his lip, thin and easy to miss unless you’re close; now it caught the light faintly when his mouth curved, giving his expression an edge that contrasted with the patience in his eyes.
Your attention shifted briefly to his arms: the way the sleeves were pulled just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. And then back to those eyes. They had always been the same, black as kohl, the sky as a canvas for lightning.
You had been younger then, smaller, overwhelmed by a space that expected too much too quickly. He had stood before you in bashed armor, standing straighter than expected of his years and those same dark eyes lifted to meet yours. Time had changed many things but his eyes remained untouched, always looking at you in a way that made your chest feel heavy.
“It’s late.” Nicholas commented, looking at the grand clock, “You should rest, my lady.”
You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “Will you stay a little while?” You asked, almost absentmindedly. “Just until I fall asleep.” He nodded at once, settling back onto the bed.
“You remember your 20th birthday?” You said, “The night was so cold, and we ate ice cream like it was the most appropriate thing to do.” You smiled, “You were a sufficient fireplace for me.” You stretched your arms out, “Come on.”
Color rose faintly to Nicholas’ cheeks. For a moment, he looked as though he might protest—duty, propriety, a dozen unspoken rules flickering behind his eyes. Then he sighed and put on a defeated smile, already settling under the sheets.
You turned onto your side instinctively, facing him, and he adjusted so the space between you closed naturally. His arm slid around your body, resting across your upper back, just firm enough. You tucked yourself closer, your forehead near his collarbone, one hand resting lightly against his chest against the fabric of his tunic.
“You know, normal knights don't do this right?”
“I know.” You hummed, feeling sleep dance into your bones, “But you're my knight, so it's alright."
His body heat seeped through the layers between you, steady and comforting; your legs brushed his, then settled, fitting easily as though this was not new at all. He shifted again, just enough to support you better, his other hand resting at your side to keep you from slipping away as you slept.
Nicholas could feel how warm you were, how your weight settled against him, the rise and fall of your breathing slowed, syncing gradually with his own. The room felt warmer too, as if all the world was contained right here, under the silken sheets.
His grip tightened just slightly, a protective instinct, before settling again. The heat between you lingered, even and constant, until the tension in your body faded and sleep took hold.
He was your war torn knight, and you were his liege to serve and to protect. But at the moment, you were two ordinary people, doing an ordinary thing, on an ordinary night.
___________________________
A month later
The soft rays of the dawn filtered through the curtains. You could hear the hurried footsteps of the servants outside, rushing around to get everything ready before the sun took its throne in the sky. You turned onto your back and sighed, shutting your eyes.
An image of a certain golden haired knight came into your mind. An….alluring golden haired knight. Your hands drifted to your legs, caressing your inner thighs, the slit in your night gown giving you easy access.
It was a scandalous thing for a princess to be doing—pleasuring herself. A woman’s pleasure was only meant for her husband after all. Husband be fucked, you thought, as your finger pads grazed over your clit, making your hips jerk up.
You had spent so many days locked up in the library again, working on the territorial re-arrangement plans your father had given to you as an assignment. Territorial re-arrangements, bullshit, they were practically war plans. All that frustration had settled deep into your body, and this was the only way you knew how to release it.
Your skin ran hot as a not so distant memory from two weeks ago came into your mind.
Nicholas’ lips press into a thin line; his gaze is unrelenting, sharp enough to cut through the cool facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, as you rake your eyes up and down his shirtless body. You never thought you’d see your knight like this—after all, what kind of person is still undressed by 10 in the morning?
Your sopping cunt clutched at your fingers, wet and needy, all that tension bleeding out of you as your mind kept giving you images of him. You bucked your hips up into your hand, as your fingers slid through the folds.
“Can I help you, my lady?” He smirks, the words hang between you, sharp and saccharine. Your gaze travelled from his broad shoulders to his chest, scarred skin and firm muscle. Your hands practically itched to reach out and touch those carved abs.
“Nicho….” A soft whimper tumbles from your lips, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip, the rest of the sound dying in your throat. Your hips stuttered as your free hand dug into the sheets to ground yourself.
“N-No.” You managed to say, “You’re late.” Nicholas pulls his tunic over his body, broad shoulders filling out the fabric, arms thick with muscle shaped by years of training. The fabric pulls slightly when he moves, outlining the solid curve of his upper arms and the defined lines along his forearms. Something swells within your chest.
You rubbed slowly over your cunt, fingers dragging through your slick, pressing just enough. You throw your head back onto the cushions as your thumb drags over your clit. Your mind drifted to him, imagining your fingers to be his—large, broad palms with thick fingers, the kind that could leave any woman breathless, veins roping across the backs of them, like prominent rivers. Scars alike as well—some faded, some still pink, some curved—you knew each and every single one.
“Forgive me, my lady.” Nicholas drawls out in his morning voice, deep and rich, “Now would you let me get dressed properly?”
Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your thighs trembling around your hand. Your fingers curled just right, dragging against that spot that made your eyes roll back.
“Or would you prefer watching, my lady?”
"Nicho—Nicholas oh fuck…“ You gasped, voice breaking, eyes rolling back and cunt clenching tight around your fingers as the knot in your stomach broke at the thought of him stuffing his fingers into you. You could feel your pussy pulsing through your orgasm, fingers moving fast, trying desperately to cling onto that fading image in your mind
For a moment, you lay still, staring at the ceiling, your heart beating a little faster than usual. His presence lingered in your mind, the sound of his voice saying ‘my lady’ so gently. You exhaled and pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to gather yourself, as sun rays bathed your room in light.
He is your knight, you reminded yourself, nothing more, nothing less.
You sat up slowly, shaking away whatever you had done five minutes ago, and reaching for your robe. Your lady-in-waiting would be here soon, you had a meeting with your father that day to discuss your plans.
The curve of his bicep, that look in his eyes.
The rays of the sun bathed your room in light.
A golden haired knight corrupted your thoughts.
______________________________
The tension in the room was sharp enough to be cut with a knife; its four walls threatened to shrink and suffocate you, as you stared fixedly at the ground, your hands politely folded in your lap. Across the long table from you sat your father, kingly eyes sifting through inked parchment. He glanced up every now and then, as if to mock you for your use of words.
You felt the gazes of the ministers on you, waiting for the King to declare that a woman’s plans could never overcome their own. The war they were planning had been in the works for six months now—what could a princess who’d known about it for a month say?
The silence stretched, broken only by the soft scrape of parchment as your father set the documents aside. He studied you for a long moment. The war against the kingdom of Sakuryn was not going to be easy—their ruler, Asakura Jo, was rumoured to be a skilled warrior.
“These plans…” He said slowly, tapping the table once with his finger, “You put emphasis on supply lines?” His gaze lifted to meet yours. You nodded.
“The neighbouring villages should be more than happy to provide resources for a subsidized cost.” You answered, “Thus enabling us to go through with more ambushes.” A murmur rippled through the room before your father silenced it with a raised hand.
“Good.” He hummed, “I will not dismiss six months of counsel,” your father continued, “but neither will I ignore these plans.” He leaned back in his chair, “You took inspiration from the Great Battle of Thymeron?” You nodded again and the king smiled, “You have done well. These proposals will be presented to our allies tomorrow evening, at the ball.” His eyes remained on you as he finished, a glint of something unreadable passing through them.
Your fingers curled tighter in your lap from the effort it took to keep your smile measured and proper. Inside, your thoughts were racing ahead of you, already at tomorrow night, already standing beneath chandeliers and champagne and kings.
“Did you see that?” You practically shouted, spinning on your heel, hands flying as if the moment might escape you otherwise. “Did you see their faces? I swear, Minister Halvern looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. I’m going to scream.”
Nicholas chuckled, walking calmly behind your frolicking figure, hands clasped behind his back. “Probably best you don’t do that,” he said, "Wouldn't want the kingdom to know their princess has finally tasted victory.”
You shot him a grin over your shoulder, “Oh trust me, my victory will come tomorrow.” You slowed then, stepping from the garden path onto the grass.
You wandered past the gardens of the vast palace grounds till you reached the old oak on the little hill—your safe place. You dropped into the grass beneath its shade, skirt fanning out, your tension slipping out from your bones.
Nicholas followed you, lowering himself beside you. He laid back, hands folded over his chest. Above you, the leaves shifted softly, sunlight breaking through in slow, uneven patterns; the earth was cool beneath your back. Nicholas turned his head just enough to glance at you, the corner of his mouth lifting as if your joy were something he could feel through the ground itself.
“So…” You broke the silence first.
“So?”
“Tomorrow’s ball.” You giggled, shifting to lay down on the grass, “Please don’t glare at all the nobles I dance with again.” Nicholas grinned and laid down next to you on his side, “It's unparliamentary Nicho!”
“Unparliamentary?” He laughed with all his chest, resting his head on his arm, his laughter eventually dying down at the sight of your pout, “Alright, princess. I’ll keep it down.”
“I just need tomorrow to be perfect.” You sighed, staring up at the canopy, “This one chance,” Your eyes were bright and uncontained, “and the throne may be mine.”
“The throne will be yours, my lady.” Nicholas reached a hand out to brush a stray hair behind your ear, and the world held its breath, “I know you’ll do wonders tomorrow.”
“Thank you Nicho.” You smiled, your knight looked beatific in fragmented sunlight, “I really couldn't have done this without you, you know.” You threw an arm over his chest, and snuggled in, “Thank you for keeping me alive all these days.” Nicholas’ hold was warm as warmth could be, his arm resting at your waist and sending butterflies through your stomach, as you both melted into the earth.
“My pleasure, princess.” He murmured, closing his eyes as the zephyr blew gently, bringing you both a sense of comfort that you could only feel with each other. The sound of Nicholas’ heart beat grounded you; you adjusted slightly, cheek settling more comfortably against him, the fabric of his shirt warm beneath your fingers. Nicholas drew his arm a fraction closer.
As the breeze stirred away, you let your eyes drift shut. Nicholas stayed awake longer than you did, listening to your slow breathing, feeling the way your weight relaxed against him.
Yet again, you were two ordinary people, in an ordinary world, doing ordinary things.
_____________________________
“Another year huh?” The tall man dressed in burgundy took a long sip from his glass of champagne, “And you still haven't found a husband.”
“Another year and I still haven't managed to kill you.” You hissed at him.
“Unfortunately that would be considered treason,” Yudai smiled at you cheekily, “and you would be hung, drawn and quartered.”
“I’m surprised though.” You smirked, “Not even a year of ballroom dancing and you’re already the favourite of the five kingdoms.” You clinked your glass with his, “I’m proud of you.”
Yudai laughed, the sound bright and unguarded as he tipped his glass toward you. “High praise from the woman who convinced me to take the job.”
“As I should.” you replied sweetly, taking a sip. “You would have burnt out if you took the throne.”
“Good thing I gave it to Euijoo then huh?” He chuckled, glancing past you at the dais where the young king was awkwardly laughing with a bunch of noblewomen, “He looks like he’s negotiating peace treaties just to escape."
You followed his gaze and laughed. “He’ll survive.”
“As we all have to yeah?” Yudai sighed, downing the last drops of champagne, “In this dangerous world?”
The grand ballroom glittered in full splendor—giant chandeliers blazing overhead, their crystal arms scattering light across the silk-draped walls. Magnificent dresses swept across the floor as royal guests danced away to the orchestra. The court had outdone itself this time, even the most dour nobles seemed momentarily softened by the music.
Yudai leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Speaking of danger, have you noticed your knight?”
“What about him?”
“Well,” Yudai chuckled, eyes glinting, “every time someone speaks to you for longer than a breath, Nicholas looks like he’s calculating where to hide the body.” He took a sip, “Your knight is still as terrifying as the day I first met him.”
Before there was peace, Yudai’s kingdom Iriandel had been at war with yours for nearly six years. Yudai, being the eldest prince of his kingdom, had encountered your knight’s blade in battle far too many times to forget. Perhaps one of the few reasons he decided to abdicate his throne to someone who actually wanted it, in order to pursue his heart’s desires.
“He’s just diligent.” You hummed.
“Of course,” Yudai said solemnly. “Terrifyingly diligent.” He lifted his glass, “To another year of survival for both of us. And to Sir Nicholas, guardian of the realm,” He chuckled, “and apparently, of your personal space.”
You clinked your glass to his, laughter warm in your chest as the music carried on around you. Your gaze drifted up to Nicholas, who was standing calmly in the corner of the room.
He stood apart from the crowd in his ceremonial uniform, the kingdom’s colors complimenting his features strikingly: black polished to a near glow, green trimmed along his shoulders and a red sash. The cut of the coat sharpened his frame and the metal accents caught the chandelier light each time he moved. He looked a bit like the heroes the poets sang of—composed, handsome, yours.
You glanced down then, at the fall of your own dress, black silk washed with green embroidery, with a low cut neck. And then a ludicrous thought came into your mind.
Matching.
Heat crept up your neck and you turned your head quickly, pretending great interest in the swirl of dancers, hoping no one—especially him—had noticed. It was foolish, you told yourself. They were the kingdom’s colors. Of course you would both be wearing them.
When you risked another look, Nicholas caught your eye for the briefest moment and your heart gave an unnecessary, traitorous little jump. The curve of his bicep, that look in his eyes. You downed your champagne.
“And here comes the cavalry.” Yudai raised his glass to his king, dressed in burgundy leather with a rather dramatic golden sash, “How fare the peace treaties, Euijoo?”
“I think I’ve broken the hearts of married mothers.” Euijoo twirled a crystal glass in his hand, lazy smile playing at his lips, “Is this what you go through everyday?” He dipped his head to you.
“Trust me it's worse.” You sighed, “Should I even ask what happened at the treaty meeting? You’ve been avoiding Haruto all evening.”
“Don’t even ask.” Euijoo groaned, rolling his shoulders back, “Your brother was about to destroy everything we’ve built over months in a matter of ten minutes. Yuma was on the verge of throwing his sword across the room.”
“Step brother.” Yudai corrected, "Seriously Your Highness, how is he even related to you?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.” You laughed wearily, “Were my plans alright, Euijoo?” You addressed him casually, “I hoped the open trade routes would free up space for the merchants.”
“If not for you, my kingdom would still think yours negotiates exclusively through threats.” Euijoo set his glass down, “On that note, may I steal you for a dance, my lady?”
“Careful,” You said, tilting your head, “my knight might take issue with that.” Euijoo’s gaze flicked—not subtly at all—to where Nicholas stood across the hall, whose eyes were already fixed in your direction like he’d sensed the disturbance in the air.
“Ah yes, Nicholas.” He took a sip and lowered his voice. “I had wondered if approaching you would get me stabbed, poisoned or simply stared into an early grave.” Yudai barked a laugh. Nicholas wasn’t frowning, but there was a focus to him, sharp enough to be felt from across the room.
“I think he’s deciding where to hide the body.” Yudai added helpfully.
You smiled into your champagne. “He wouldn’t kill you.” You said to Euijoo.
Euijoo raised a brow. “Probably wouldn’t kill me.” He offered his hand with a grin, “Before your knight follows through on his thoughts, shall we?”
Before any of you could move, the booming sound of trumpets cut through the hum of conversation. The music stilled as laughter faded into murmurs and glasses paused mid-air. At the far end of the hall, the musicians lowered their bows as the herald stepped forward.
“Next time then.” Euijoo released your hand at once, “Maybe when Nicholas is locked in his room.”
Yudai straightened beside you, his teasing expression softening. “Looks like this is your moment.” Of course, you had spoiled the surprise for him, unable to keep your little victory to yourself anymore. The weight of the hall’s attention turned to your father mounting the dais.
“Citizens of Phileon, noble guests, ladies and gentlemen,” Your father was always one for show, “Today is a day of celebration. A day of light. A day to drink to!” A roar ripped through the crowd as everybody raised their glasses. Get on with it already, you thought, impatient for your spotlight moment.
But the Fates had woven a different destiny for you.
_________________
“My lady.” Nicholas tapped against the closet door, “Please come out.”
He was met with a soft sniffle, and a barely audible ‘no’. He sighed and sat down on the floor in front of the grand wooden closet. He was still in his black suit, but he had ripped his red sash off, the moment he ran behind you from the ballroom.
“I’ll wait here until you do then.” He said simply. “I have nowhere better to be anyway.”
On the other side of the door, you curled in on yourself, knees drawn close, arms wrapped tight around yourself. The closet still smelled of old wood and dried flowers, something faintly familiar that made your chest ache. This had been your hiding place once, yours and your mother’s. Somewhere small, somewhere warm, somewhere where the world couldn't reach you.
“He didn't even look at me.” You whispered, voice trembling. “He didn’t even spare me a fucking glance.” The moment replayed itself behind your eyes—the trumpets and the fanfare and your father’s smooth voice twisting the truth into something unrecognizable.
Your plans, your weeks of work, dropped like a stag’s antlers into Haruto’s hands. Your jaw clenched as you recalled the thunderous applause that followed your brother as he stepped proudly onto the dais, accepting charge of the royal army.
A heavy silence pressed in, broken occasionally by the faint hitch of your breathing. Nicholas toyed with his sword. Your face—how all the light had drained from it before you turned and walked away, despite Yudai and Euijoo’s efforts to keep you there in all diplomatic (and friendly) politeness.
“I’m nothing to them, am I?” Your voice sounded small, “They just took it from me like I was nothing, like I wasn't even there.”
“You’re not nothin–”
“Oh admit it.” A bitter laugh slipped out of you, “If I really was not nothing, then why was it so easy? Why did they believe him? Why did they look at me like I was just standing in the way?” Your voice wavered. “I am nothing but a fool.”
Nicholas’ jaw tightened. He leaned his head back against the bedframe, eyes closing.
“No.”
“Nicho–”
“No.” He repeated, “My lady,” Nicholas’ hand lifted and rested flat against the door, “You are capable, you are intelligent and worth far more than anybody standing in that ballroom." His voice dropped, roughened, “You know full well your brother did not deserve any of that praise.”
A shaky laugh broke from you, sharp and wet. “Do I?” Your breath hitched, “I trusted the king.” you murmured. “Everybody knows trust is only meant for jibbering fools.”
“Do you not trust me then?” Nicholas smiled softly, even though he knew you wouldn't see it. He was met with a shaky breath.
“I know you want to beat yourself up about it, but trust me, you won't be any more courageous if you do.” He added, softer still, “You were robbed and it is as simple as that. My lady, do you really believe His Majesty Euijoo wanted Haruto up there? Or His Highness Yuma? Or Yudai?” You pressed your forehead into your knees, shoulders shaking as you listened,
“That isn’t how worth works, my lady.” He said. “The only thing they counted on was the nobility not believing in a Queen and we both know how stupid that is.” His voice roughened. “You don’t have to be strong right now, princess, you know that right?”
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. “I feel so stupid,” You murmured. “for believing.”
“Then we’ll be stupid together.” He replied in a jolt. “Because I’ve believed in you from the start and I still do.”
“I’m tired Nicho.” You said at last. “I’m so goddamn tired of trying to be enough.”
“You are enough.” Nicholas answered as if it were the most obvious fact in the world, “And nobody in the world gets to make you feel like you aren't." His hand pressed more firmly against the wood, as if anchoring himself there, “Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of Phileon?”
The closet door opened at last. You stepped out as though leaving a shrine, eyes red, lashes wet and shoulders drawn inward. Nicholas rose immediately, offering his scarred hands, palms open and unarmed. You placed yours there without looking, trusting him to hold what the night had broken.
He led you to the bed slowly and sat beside you on the edge, close enough that the warmth of him reached you. For a while, neither of you spoke, silence thick with all that had been lost and gained that evening. Outside, the moon hung in all her radiance.
You stared at the patterned rug, you had only now noticed how fine its details were, woven from golden and red threads. If one were to bleed out on the floor of your bedroom, it would have looked beautiful.
“They’ll march in a month.” You said at last, voice distant. “When the war is declared officially.” You looked at him, feeling your sight blur with tears again, “Will you have to go too?”
Nicholas inclined his head and breathed. Then he nodded slowly. “They will need your lone wolf won't they?” He laughed crudely, “Phileon cannot win a war without her princess.”
A faint smile tugged at your lips and it struck Nicholas then how small you looked at that moment, completely worn out. The crownlight gowns and ballroom fire had fallen away, leaving only the girl who sat beneath oak trees, slept in libraries and refused to budge till her work was complete, with the cheekiest smile on her face.
Nicholas watched the way your fingers twisted together, how your spine held stubbornly straight even while your heart caved inward. You had always worn your dignity as your armour, even when it suffocated you.
“Phileon’s princess huh?” You wiped your tears away and Nicholas caught a brief glimpse of that familiar flame, “I want it back Nicho.” You breathed deeply and looked him straight in the eye, “I want it all back.”
Nicholas felt something old and violent stir beneath his ribs. He had known your face since it was softer with youth, before the weight of the world sharpened it. Tonight, grief had made you gentle, made your eyes vast and dark, as though they carried the whole kingdom’s sorrow.
Nicholas rose and then sank to one knee before you, fist on his chest as you watched on, dazed. “Nicholas wha—”
“Please, my lady,” He said, “let me speak.”
The oil lamps caught his face gently, softening the scars that traced his cheek and jaw. Dark strands of hair fell forward in a way that made him look younger—closer to the boy who had stood before you years ago in dented armor.
You had seen him in every state a man could probably be seen—bloodied, exhausted, victorious, unguarded. Yet now, kneeling at the edge of the bed, he looked almost unbearably noble.
“I was sworn to this kingdom once years ago.” He began, “To Phileon, her lands and her people.” His gaze was unwavering, “To protecting the crown till death do us part.”
“Tonight my lady, I swear myself to you.” He continued, “Only to you.” He smiled softly, “The heavens may punish me all they want for it, but my fealty will forever lie with you and only you.” You reached for him then without realizing it, fingers brushing against his sleeve. He paused as he took his sword out and presented it before you, its sharp edge gleaming in the light.
“I swear this sword to your name, my lady.” His fingers pressed into the sword, “My breath to your defense, my life to your future, no matter what it may be. And if blood must be spilled for you to grab that future—” A faint glimmer came to his eyes, “—then I will bring you Haruto’s head, or I will fall before him.”
“Nicho don’t.” You whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t swear that.”
“Then let me swear this instead.” His voice softened. He put the sword down and took your hands, pressing them to his chest.
“That I will never leave you behind in this world, even if the Gods themselves command me to.”
Your tears spilled freely now as you leaned into him, forehead against his shoulder, and for the first time that night, allowed yourself to be held. Nicholas’ arms closed around you with careful strength, as if you were something precious.
You stayed like that for a while, knight and princess in an ordinary world full of not so ordinary things.
Fireworks bloomed beyond the palace walls then, sudden and bright, painting the night in violent color. You lifted your head from Nicholas’ shoulder at the first crack, and laughed.
“Are they always this loud?” The fireworks caught along the planes of his face, the familiar scar at his lip flashing pale.
“They are.” He said, “They’ll be even louder at your coronation, my lady.”
“Heard from every corner of the kingdom I suppose.” You hiccuped, smiling tiredly at him. Nicholas tilted his head curiously, rubbing circles onto your waist, still kneeling on the floor.
“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?” He asked.
“Nothing much.” You hummed, your eyes wavering over his lips for a second, “Strategy?”
It was no longer an ordinary world—yours and Nicholas’ and for a moment, you thought about how it probably never was. Probably never will be. What sort of a princess thinks about her knight before she goes to sleep? And what sort of a knight does the same?
But it would be a lie to say that your knight didn't make this insane world seem a bit more normal.
A bit more full of moonlight.
___________________
The plan began as all plans do. Ink, letters, bribed soldiers at the borders and your messenger hawk. Who would ever suspect a princess sending letters to her friends after all? All they did was talk about lace and ribbons anyway.
You sat at your desk long after midnight, sleeves rolled, hair loosely tied back, the map of the realm spread before you.
Euijoo was the first to accept your hand in secret alliance, writing a long letter to you about how he’d rather give up tangerines than have Haruto on the throne after the war blew over. Yuma, of the neighbouring island kingdom was quick to accept too, even going so far as to send you a floral arrangement, which your father thankfully mistook for a marriage proposal.
By day, you met with nobles, many of whom had seen you grow up on treaties and war plans, many of whom indulged the idea of a woman on the throne. You let them complain about empty treasuries, restless towns, sons they could not afford to lose and you threw in your card at the end.
By night, you wrote. Letters left your chambers under false seals, carried by trusted hands to courts beyond your borders to rulers who had watched Phileon from afar and wondered how long it could endure a king who ruled like a relic and a crown prince worth nothing.
But of course, you were not going to stop there.
The enemy of an enemy was a friend after all.
Asakura Jo’s reply came faster than you expected. His handwriting was freakishly neat (Nicholas suspected witchcraft), as he accepted your offer for mineral trading rights in exchange for support once the king’s blood was on your hands. There was something quite attractive in the way he did not even question your stance as a mere First princess (Nicholas definitely suspected witchcraft) and it was an end to a war neither of you wanted. A war of old lions and foolish cubs neither of you had any interest in.
“Is his handwriting really that attractive to you?” Across the room, Nicholas leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed, watching you smile at the letter in your hand, “I knew your standards were low, but not that low.”
“Jo just offered to come over for my future coronation.” You sighed dreamily, “He’d make a fine husband, wouldn't he?”
“You’ve seen one painting of the man.” Nicholas jut his bottom lip out just a tad, your knight was like a jealous kitten.
“And one painting is all I need to know he’s the perfect man—” You chuckled, “—to support me in my endeavours.”
“Oh?” Nicholas sat down across from you, “And what about me?” You paused, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips as you folded Jo’s letter and set it aside.
“What about you?” You echoed, finally looking up at him.
The candlelight caught along the sharp lines of his face, the familiar scar at his lip. My lone wolf, you thought.
“I seem to recall,” He began in a childish tone, “that I have supported every one of your endeavours thus far. Including the ones that could get us both beheaded.”
“Indeed you have good sir.” You laughed softly, “And your queen shall reward you for it generously.” His brow lifted, almost imperceptibly.
“I will not ask for much, oh merciful queen.” He said, “I only want three mansions and an apple orchard.”
“I suppose that can be arranged.” You laughed, meeting his eyes. Silence took over for a moment before you sighed. “We are really doing this tomorrow huh?”
Something shifted in his expression then, something like acceptance settling into place. He exhaled through his nose, and looked away for half a second.
“You will have the throne tomorrow my lady.” He beamed, “It feels like only yesterday we were both 17.” He chuckled, “Young, dumb and stupid.” He rose to his feet, “And now look at us, planning a conquest.” He bowed his head, “I am proud to serve you, my lady.”
Outside, the palace slept, unaware that its foundations were being redrawn by a woman with ink-stained fingers and a knight who would follow her into hell without question.
“Thank you Nicho.” You said, eyes lingering on his arms before you broke away, “Go get some sleep now, we have a big day tomorrow.”
Nicholas straightened, hand drifting, without thought, to the hilt of his sword, as he bowed and swiftly left the room. He smiled to himself. You'd be up there on the throne tomorrow.
And he was going to bring you the crown prince’s head.
___________________
When you were a young girl, your mother would tell you the tale of a hunter, whose target was kings. She’d tell you about the way the hunter would always paralyse the kings first, slipping in foxglove in their tobacco. And then the hunter would slowly run their dagger through the chest, ripping out the heart to consume it, the coronary muscles, the aorta, the soul that was caged within.
“So,” You said softly, “this is how it all ends, father.” The king sat slumped against the back of the throne, crown still upon his head, fingers locked uselessly around the armrests, “With your daughter on the throne and Phileon under her brow.” His eyes were furious, trapped in a body that had turned traitor to him. The poison had done its work quietly, as you intended, “Are you proud, father?”
Rage twisted his face, words spilling out in broken, venomous fragments about your ingratitude, your audacity and your place. Even now, even like this, he still clung to his pathetic beliefs.
“I hated being your daughter.” You continued, voice calm, “I was raised on your wars, your ledgers and your laws and never once did you see me as somebody fit for the throne.” Your gaze flicked to the crown. “Are you really surprised I've done this?” You took a step closer, then another.
“Let us call it fate for now, Your Majesty.” The dagger felt light in your hand, “Fate, that has decided my place on this throne.”
You climbed the steps slowly, deliberately, until you stood before him—before the man who had dismissed you, belittled you, and handed your future to others as if it were his to give away.
“For what it’s worth,” You added, “I will be a better ruler than you ever were.”
A hunter of kings, your mother had told you—one who feasted upon their greedy souls. She never told you how good it would feel.
You took your place upon the throne—your throne—fingers curling around the carved armrests as if to anchor yourself to the moment. The weight of it pressed into your spine, as you looked down at your bloody hands and the corpse of the king at your feet.
“Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Phileon.” You whispered to yourself.
The kingdom was yours.
The great doors of the throne room burst open, thunderous echo rolling through the hall as your soldiers flooded in, banners lifted high, steel catching the light perfectly. Amongst them stood men of the other kingdoms as well, you could see Euijoo, Yudai and Yuma in their generals’ attire, leading the faction of nobles.
Euijoo shot you a quick grin before going back to his solemn expression. Somewhere in the back, you could see a tall, hooded figure as well. Over the months, you had found out Asakura Jo wasn't one for flair, clearly evident as he inclined his head to you, and leaned back against a pillar, crossing his arms and admiring the grand hall.
“My lady.” Euijoo stood at the foot of the dais, “You’ve done it.” He smiled gently and bowed his head, turning back to the crowd once, “All hail the First Princess!” A roar erupted through the hall, swords ringing against shields, excited voices crying out for their beloved princess. Euijoo climbed the steps to you, as you rose off the throne to take his hand.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” You said, “I look forward to the friendship between our kingdoms.” You glanced at the nobles standing by the side, giving them a polite smile before turning back to the king, “And what of the battle?”
“The battle?” He inclined his head. “It was brief.” He turned slightly, “Your brother’s legions were large, but poorly held together. Once the first line broke, the rest followed.” He held a twinkle in his eyes, “Many laid down their arms the moment your banners were raised.”
“Haruto?” You asked.
Euijoo laughed. “Fled like a wounded dog. Took a sword and fled for the hills.”
The hall still rang with celebration, but the noise felt distant now, as though you stood at the center of a quiet eye while the storm roared around you. You hesitated, then asked the question that had been pressing against your ribs since the doors first opened.
“And Nicholas?”
Euijoo’s expression shifted—subtle, almost amused.
“Ahh, your knight.” He glanced toward the doors, then back to you. “He said there was business he needed to finish. Said it concerned his honour.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “But we all know who his honour is, don't we?”
Haruto’s head. You shook off the thought.
“We best get to the crowni–”
That was when the doors opened again, the sound cutting clean through the air. All eyes were fixed on the knight, crossing the length of the hall.
Nicholas.
Your Nicholas.
His armor was darkened with the marks of battle, the hall narrowing around him, the space between you shrinking with every step. He held something tightly in one hand, the other holding a blood stained sword. Gasps rang through the hall, as it became evidently clear what he had just done.
I will bring you Haruto’s head, or I will fall before him.
That faithful night came back in your mind as you stood alone on the dais, meeting your knight’s gaze. There was something in those eyes again, like a war of fealty and love.
Nicholas dropped to one knee in front of the dais, holding out his hand and dropping his trophy—a grotesque expression plastered on the severed head.
“Phileon is yours.” His voice rang through the hall, “Phileon is yours, my lady.”
Your chest tightened as you slowly descended the steps until you stood before him, close enough to see the devotion etched into every line of his face.
“Give me your sword, Sir Nicholas.” You said.
For a moment, the hall fell away as your gaze met his. There was only him in this world now, your war torn knight, your lone wolf, your Nicholas.
Nicholas placed the bloodied sword in your outstretched hands, movements reverent, as though each step had been rehearsed in his bones long before this day arrived. The hall was silent now, even the banners seemed to still.
You reached for the hilt, the metal cold beneath your fingers, as you traced your thumb over his carved name on the edge. You raised the sword, then rested the flat of the blade against his shoulder.
“You have stood with me all these years.” You said, voice carrying to every corner of the hall. “Even in times when both of us would have been beheaded.” Nicholas chuckled under his breath. The murmurs around you swelled, kings and soldiers watching closely.
“I thank you for that with all my life.” You said, “Today, I—in the name of Phileon—name you First Knight of the Realm.” You rested the sword on his left shoulder, “Thank you, for pledging your fealty to me.”
A sharp intake of breath passed through the hall. Nicholas looked up then, eyes bright. His jaw tightened as though he feared his eyes might fail him. You lowered the sword and offered him your hand, pulling him up to stand.
“Not so much of a lone wolf now, are you, my knight?” You whispered, squeezing his hand, worship written into the way his fingers closed around yours. Ordinary world be damned, you thought, he was certainly no ordinary man.
Yuma approached the dais then, alone, carrying a velvet cushion upon which rested the crown of Phileon—ruby-crested, gold catching fire in the torchlight. Nicholas let go of your hand and moved away swiftly, as Euijoo and Jo stepped forward, their symbols gleaming in the light. Euijoo took the crown in his hands.
This was it, huh?
“Your Royal Highness, the First Princess of Phileon.” He began, “By the law of war and first decree, you are fit to claim the throne of the kingdom of Phileon.” He extended the crown forward, “Do you accept?”
You breathed out and looked at the crowd—kings, soldiers, allies and your knight. You turned back to Euijoo.
“I, the First Princess of Phileon,” A smile broke through, “accept the throne.”
“Then, by accord of the alliance of kingdoms, and by law,” Euijoo raised the crown, “I hereby crown you Queen of Phileon.”
The crown pressed warm at your temples, the ruby crest catching the firelight until it seemed to glow from within, as though it had been waiting for you to claim it.
“All hail Her Majesty, the Queen of Phileon!” Euijoo declared, as he bowed. The hall followed suit, bowing down before you.
An unsteady breath left you. This—this—was what every late night, every month in the library and every step had amounted to. For a moment, the hall was suspended between heartbeats.
“Well?” Yudai called out, lifting a hand toward the waiting servants. “Pop open the wine bottles before someone starts crying!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, relief and joy spilling over at once. The hall bloomed into sound, cheers, applause, the ringing of steel against shields in celebration. You let yourself smile fully now. Your gaze moved through the faces—kings, nobles and soldiers.
And then, your eyes found him.
“They call you lone wolf, do they not?” Your eyes raked over the knight on one knee before you, “And you are to protect me?”
“Yes my lady.” He said simply, not raising his head.
“I am no one of importance.” You laughed, “I am sorry that this kingdom’s best warrior is stuck with me.” You sighed, “Please…raise your head, good knight.”
He did, and you met his gaze. He was probably itching to get out there again. But here he was, stuck guarding a princess no one cared abou—
“I don't think I am stuck, my lady.” He said sheepishly, “And I do not think you are unimportant.” A faint red appeared on his cheeks.
“Well, you’ll learn soon enough.” You chuckled, getting to your feet. He awkwardly shuffled up as well, keeping his gaze to the floor. “Your name is Nicholas, is it not?” He nodded, “I’ll warn you, I am always stuck in the library. This job might get boring.”
“I prefer boring.” He hummed, finally catching your gaze again. You sent him a gentle smile, which he returned.
He was now your war torn knight, and you were his princess.
Warmth bloomed in your chest as you locked eyes with him. It had been six years now since you two exchanged awkward courtesies. And there he was, those same beautiful eyes still gazing at you as if you had hung up the moon.
You would have given him the entire universe if he asked.
_________________
“So..”
“So?”
“So.”
The word lingered uselessly between you, dissolving into the quiet as you sat side by side on the edge of the bed, close enough that your sleeves brushed one another.
It was almost midnight by the time the celebrations and official duties were over and it was safe to say you were dead. The prospect of getting to talk to your knight after it all, late at night like two children sharing secrets, was the only thing that powered you through it.
“We always somehow end up back here.” Nicholas said, sighing, “At the edge of this bed I mean.”
“Is that a good thing?” You asked, becoming aware of everything at once. The steady rise and fall of Nicholas’ chest, the way his muscles pressed against his white shirt, a new scar on his cheek. You could feel his attention too, he wasn’t staring, but every time you glanced sideways, you caught him already looking at your hands, your mouth, your neck.
You cleared your throat, smiling just to break the spell. “I think,” You said lightly, “I’d like to hold your sword again.” You laughed, “Day one of being a ruler and the power is already getting to my head.”
“As it should, princess.” Nicholas smiled, already unbuckling his sword from his side, “You deserve it.” He held it out to you hilt-first, and didn't stop there.
He rose from the bed with a soft groan and sank to one knee before you, looking up to shoot you a mischievous grin before sinking his head back down. “Go on my lady, knight me again.” He hummed. Oh the trouble he would have been in if you could have heard his thoughts during the coronation earlier. The way your arms curved, the way you called him your knight. Nicholas was a gone man.
But this time, you leaned forward and placed the tip of the blade gently under his chin, lifting your wrist to lift his face up. His neck curved beautifully as you did, his eyes full of something you couldn't quite decipher. The room felt warmer.
“Oh no.” You purred. “How very clumsy I am.” You tilted the blade up further, making him show you his whole neck. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily; but you could easily see the smirk tugging at his lips.
There was something frustratingly attractive about this, about him. The very fact that he could pick you up and snap your spine in half, and yet here he was, kneeling in front of you, letting you play with his neck with his sword—it made heat rush between your thighs.
“How very clumsy you are.” Nicholas crooned, grabbing hold of the middle of the blade, “You cannot hold it like that if you want to kill somebody, my lady.”
“How do I hold it then?” You asked, crossing one leg over the other, “Teach me.” Your action caused your night gown to slip, revealing the entirety of your right leg. Nicholas’ brain haywired.
He sighed, holding the blade with two hands now as he inched forward on his knees, till the blade was the only thing separating you both.
“Isnt that….how do you say it again?” He ran his tongue over his lips, "Unparliamentary?" He chuckled, tossing the sword away and resting his hands on either side of you on the bed, caging you in, “For a knight to teach his princess?”
“Careful.” You hummed, “I am your queen now.” Your eyes darted from his eyes to his wet lips.
“You’ll always be my princess though.” Nicholas’ hands wandered to your waist, “Won’t you, princess?”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. This close, you could see the faint scar near his lip, the way his eyes hooded and the way his composure was on the verge of breaking.
Silence fell between you both for a moment, neither of you breaking away from the heavy eye contact. His hands mapped your clothed waist, slender fingertips tracing circles on the silk. You bit your lip, eyes tracing over his muscles.
Was this the love the poets spoke of?
“Nicholas…”
“My lady?”
“Kiss me.” You wrapped your arms round his neck, pulling him even closer, “Please kiss me.”
If there existed a God in this world, you’d have to apologise to them. For nothing felt more holy, than the feeling of Nicholas’ soft lips on yours.
He cupped your face gently with one hand, thumb brushing against your cheek and he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss.
Nicholas poured his heart and soul into the embrace, worshipping your mouth with a fervor that set your entire body aflame. His lips moved against yours with a skillful precision, as your arms roamed all over his arms, feeling his firm biceps.
“You like them princess?” Nicholas broke away for a second, smirking, “You’re not very slick when you stare you know?”
And then he was aalll over you again, deepening the kiss this time, you felt yourself becoming lost in the sensation, your world narrowing to the point of contact between your lips.
Nicholas's tongue danced with yours in a sensual tango, his passion igniting a fire within you that consumed you entirely. You clung to him as if he was your lifeline, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer till your chest pressed against his, desperate to feel every inch of his body.
“Fuck me..” Nicholas moaned into the kiss, “You’re so beautiful, princess.”
With a sudden surge of strength, Nicholas lifted you effortlessly, placing you down gently on the centre on the bed. He cradled you in his arms, his eyes locked on yours as he gazed down at you with a mixture of reverence and desire.
Your mind, on the other hand, raced with memories of…..scandalous knowledge. You had often poured over study tomes, deciphering the cryptic illustrations and the mysteries of love and desire. But physical experience always trumped literary knowledge right?
“Nicho…..”
“Yes princess?” He said, “Tell me what you want.”
“Can you…..I mean, can we….” Your words faded into the tortuous air of awkwardness as heat rushed to your neck. How hard was it to say ‘can we have sex’?
“Can I what, my lady?” Nicholas smirked. Of course, he knew what you were asking about. But some wild beast in him needed to hear you say it out loud.
“You know what I mean.” You mumbled sheepishly, turning your head to the side to look away, not knowing the curve of your neck only made the pressure between his legs increase.
“I do.” He hummed, “But I’m afraid a knight cannot do anything without proper orders, my lady."
Oh this man, you thought, I love this man. You had thought of this moment for so long, yet now that it was here, you found yourself tongue-tied and hesitant.
"Nicholas," You murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I–I want you to make love to me."
The words hung heavy in the air, you could feel the heat of Nicholas's gaze, his eyes smoldering with a fire that matched the intensity of your own arousal.
"As you wish, my princess," He replied, his voice low.
With a gentle yet firm touch, Nicholas traced his fingers along the curve of your neck. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the sensitive flesh, and was rewarded with a soft gasp from his beloved. As Nicholas continued his exploration, his hands roamed over your body, caressing every inch of you with reverence and desire.
You found yourself losing yourself in the sensation, your body responding eagerly to Nicholas's skilled ministrations. As he slipped his hand beneath the fabric of your gown, you arched into his touch, craving more of the delicious torment he was inflicting upon you.
"Nichooo," You whined, voice heavy with need. "Please....."
In response, Nicholas merely smiled, a glint in his eye. "Patience, my love," He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to savor every moment of this."
His tongue slipped against yours as he pulled you in for another passionate kiss, his right hand hovering near your inner thigh. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, urging him on. A low moan vibrated from his throat into the kiss, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.
“May I?” He murmured against your lips. You hummed a note of consent, and his hands worked quickly to pull your night gown off. Your hands too drifted up to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing his scarred chest to you. My my, was your knight beautiful.
You shivered in anticipation, as you were left naked on the bed. Nicholas paused for a moment, to drink in the sight before him. His princess, laid out like a feast for his consumption, your body quivering with desire for him alone. His dick strained painfully against his pants. Patience Nicholas, he thought to himself, it’s her first time.
"You’re so perfect," He breathed, his eyes roaming hungrily over you, "Perfect..."
Nicholas groaned softly at the sight of your wet cunt, already sopped with your arousal, his touch feather-light as he parted your folds with his thick finger, feeling the slick heat of you. You gasped, your hips bucking instinctively, and he added a second finger, stretching you with careful thrusts, his thumb circling your clit in firm, rhythmic motions.
“Oh Nicho….” You moaned, “Nicho–feels so good, oh!”
"Fuck…..so beautiful, so needy for me." His voice was thick with affection.
Slowly, Nicholas pressed one finger deep inside, your walls clenching around the intrusion as he curled it gently, stroking that sensitive spot deep within. He watched your face, his free hand caressing your thigh, ensuring every movement brought you pleasure. The wetness coated his fingers as Nicholas pumped them deeper, building the tension in your core, his loving gaze never leaving yours.
“Nicho!” You cried out, as his finger brushed past a particular spot, “Nicho right there—oh fuckkkk…”
Nicholas groaned, his own dick twitching at how your pretty pussy squeezed his finger—he's dying to bury himself in you, to feel you break around him. He was so turned on by the way his perfect princess was falling apart for him, falling apart merely for his fingers.
He added a third finger, thrusting deeper, scissoring to open you up. Your clit pulsed under his thumb as he rubbed it hard, making your hips jerk. You felt the heat coiling low in your belly, waves of pleasure making you wetter, your breath coming fast.
He watched you, eyes dark with lust and care, his free hand squeezing your thigh as he fingered your cunt faster, wanting to make you cum before he took you fully.
“Nicho—I’m close…..” You groaned, arching into his touch. You started to grind your hips against his digits, feeling a peculiar knot tighten inside you. You’ve had orgasms before, but there was no way your pathetic little fingers could ever feel as good as Nicholas’s thick, thick fingers.
“Relax, princess.” Nicholas whispered, as you held onto his shoulders for support, “Let go for me—that’s a good girl.”
Your hips rocked harder now, as if they had a mind of their own, chasing that delicious pressure the heat building fast and reckless within you.
“Nicholas!” You moaned his name as your thighs trembled, head falling forward. Your body unravelled, every nerve focused on the friction, that aching pressure curling tight as tight could be.
With a sob of pure ecstasy, you came undone, your body shaking with the force of your release. Nicholas held you close, his touch gentling as he guided you through the aftershocks.
"Good girl," He whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well, princess."
As you floated in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Nicholas' hands continued to caress your skin, his touch now soft and soothing. He trailed his fingers along your spine, eliciting a contented sigh from you.
“How’re you feeling?” He asked you, “Was I too rough with you?” You shook your head a frantic no which made him chuckle, “Not rough enough?”
You bit your lip, eyes darting downwards to where Nicholas' length strained against his pants. You had only ever seen a man’s……thing in particularly explicit paintings before and the sight of your knight’s thick, hard cock sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your veins.
You trailed your left hand down to his crotch, slowly rubbing it up and down. Nicholas shut his eyes and sighed. Was this really his innocent princess?
"Off." You whispered, voice as steady as it was earlier that day. "Want to see you, Nicho please."
Nicholas's eyes darkened with desire at your request. "Whatever my princess wants." He replied, his voice a low growl.
With a fluid motion, he sat up, tearing his shirt off to reveal his chiseled physique, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he moved. His pants came off in one motion too and you audibly gasped.
How on earth was all that supposed to fit inside you?
“It’s so big…” You said, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realised what you just blurted out. Nicholas chuckled, gently removing your hand from your mouth and cupping his cheek with it.
“Don’t worry, my love.” He crooned, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
You gulped, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and apprehension, as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. You reached down again, fingers grazing his pre-cum soaked head.
“Thaaat’s it.” He encouraged you, his hand covering yours, guiding you to stroke him once, twice, the slickness from his tip coating your palm. A soft whimper escaped him, but he pulled your hands away gently, positioning himself between your slick legs.
“You sure princess?” He asked one last time, his senses catching fire as you shyly nodded.
The leaking tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you were already arching your back and crying out. The heat of him there sent a shiver through you, your throbbing pussy clenching around nothing. Nicholas leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sweeping in possessively as he lined up.
“Breathe for me, sweetheart.” He whispered against your mouth, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your hip to hold you steady.
Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he pushed forward. The broad head breached you, stretching your tight walls inch by exquisite inch. It burned—a sharp, splitting pain as your pussy yielded to his girth, forcing you open wider than you've ever been. You gasped into his kiss, nails digging into his shoulders, body tensing as the intrusion bordered on too much.
“Nicho–ohhh god oh god!” A moan ripped from your chest, “feel so full, Nicho…” You whimpered pathetically.
“Fuck, you're so—hah—tight.” He hissed through gritted teeth, pausing with just the tip inside, letting you adjust.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, his muscles straining with restraint. But there was a glint in his eyes, a cocky edge as he watched your face contort—brows furrowed, lips parted in a silent cry. How it amused him so much, watching you struggle to take his length.
“Taking my cock like a good girl, aren't you? My princess, struggling so prettily on it.” His words stung with arrogance, but the way he stroked your cheek softened it, thumb tracing your jaw as he inched even deeper. The pain flared again, your inner muscles clamping down, trying to push him out.
“Nicho…it hurts.” You breathed.
Tears pricked your eyes, the fullness overwhelming, like he was carving a space inside you that wasn't there before. But you refused to pull away—your hips tilted up slightly, inviting more despite the ache.
“Shh my love.” Nicholas kissed away the stray tear, “Just a little more yeah? You’re doing so good for me.” He rocked forward another inch, the veined shaft draaagging against your sensitive walls, sending sparks of mingled pain and pleasure shooting through you. Your clit throbbed with each tiny thrust, the friction building a confusing heat.
“God, just loook at that.” He chuckled, glancing down where your bodies joined, his thick length disappearing into your pink, stretched folds, “So pretty all of me.” The sight made him harder, but he reined it in, peppering your neck with soft kisses, murmuring praises. “So brave, taking all of me like this.”
You bit your lips, as he pressed on, slower still, until with a final, careful push, he bottomed out. His balls rested heavy against you, his pubic bone grinding against your clit, and you're utterly full, stuffed to the brim.
“Oh fuck me.” Nicholas groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, both of you breathing hard.
“Nicho—m-move please please pleasee..” You whined, wanting to feel something, anything other than this feeling of absolute fullness.
After a long moment, he started to move—gentle at first, pulling out just a fraction before sliding back in, the motion smooth and controlled. Each shallow thrust eased the pain further, your pussy growing accustomed, the drag of his thickness igniting nerves you didn't know existed
Pleasure bloomed low in your belly, warm and insistent as you moaned his name, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. His hands roamed your body, thumbs circling your nipples as he rocked into you steadily.
“Fuck you’re gonna kill me, princess.” He groaned, watching your face, drinking in every gasp and flutter of your lashes, “Squeezin me so good–oh oh!”
But the gentleness wasn’t enough; the coil in your core tightened, demanding more. You whined, high and needy, fingers clawing at his back.
“Nicho…….faster, please. I need you to fuck me harder.” Your voice broke on the plea, submissive and raw, body arching up to meet his. He paused mid-thrust, eyes locking on yours, a spark of hunger flashing.
‘Don’t want to hurt you my love.” But you shook your head, desperation flooding you.
“Please Nicho?” You fluttered your lashes, “want to feel all of you in me.”
And that was it.
A growl rumbled from his chest, and he shifted, hooking your legs over his elbows to open you wider. He pulled out almost to the tip, then slammed back in—harder, deeper, the force jolting you up the bed.
You cried out, the sudden fullness bordering on pain again, but it's laced with ecstasy, your pussy clenching greedily around him. He set a punishing pace now, hips snapping forward, cock pistoning in and out with wet, obscene sounds.
“You like that princess?” He panted, sweat dripping from his brow onto your skin, his control shattering as he fucks you to bits, “My dirty girl likes feeling me inside her pretty pussy?”
The bed creaked under the onslaught, silk sheets bunching as you writhed beneath him. Pleasure crashed over you in waves—his thick dick stretching you relentlessly, rubbing that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
Nicholas leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue fucking in time with his hips, all love and passion poured into the act.
“My princess.” He murmured between thrusts, voice strained, “I love so—oh god—love you so much.” His hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing firm circles that made you scream into his mouth. The dual assault—his relentless pounding and the pressure on your nub—pushed you toward the edge, your walls fluttering wildly around him.
“Nicho Nicho Nicho!” You all but screamed his name like a sinful prayer, “Oh Nicho—love you love you love you!”
You shattered with a wail, pussy spasming in violent contractions that milked his shaft. Ecstasy ripped through you, body convulsing, nails raking red lines down his back. He didn’t stop, fucking you through it, drawing out every tremor until you were whimpering from the intensity.
“That’s my girl.” He praised, cocky grin flashing even as his own release built. His thrusts grew erratic, chasing his peak with single-minded focus.
With a worshipping moan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, cock swelling as he came. Hot spurts flooded your pussy, painting your walls white, the sensation of his seed filling you whole. He grinded against you, prolonging it, groaning your name like a hymn.
“Take it all, my love.” You felt every pulse, the warmth spreading deep, a profound intimacy in the way he claimed you completely, “My beautiful princess.”
Nicholas lingered inside you for a moment, his cock softening gradually within your tender, cum-filled pussy, the warmth of his release still seeping into your walls. He shifted his weight carefully and began to pull out very gently, his thick shaft dragging along your sensitive folds one last time.
A soft whimper escaped your lips at the emptiness that followed, his cum trickling out slowly, warm and sticky, coating your inner thighs.
“Easy, princess.” He said, voice laced with tenderness, “I’ve got you.”
He rolled onto your side, bed dipping under his weight, reaching for you immediately, strong arms encircling your waist, drawing you into his chest. You nestled against him without hesitation, your head tucking under his chin, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you as your own pulse slowed.
The room fell quiet, save for the crackle of the dying fire in the hearth and your synchronized breaths. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows over the rumpled bed, illuminating the flush on your cheeks and the satisfied curve of his lips.
“So…”
“Hmm?”
“That was..” You sucked in a breath, “Wow.”
Nicholas chuckled gently, tracing circles on your hip, “You’ve just been fucked and that’s the first thing you say?”
“Careful, my knight.” You giggled, “I am still your queen you know.”
“Of course, my liege.” He hummed.
You tilted your head up, lips brushing the underside of his jaw. He tightened his hold, his hand pausing in its tracing to cup your hip more firmly, pulling you impossibly closer.
“I love you.” You said, “I love you, Nicholas.”
“And I love you.” Nicholas replied, gazing into your eyes, “More than anything in this world, princess.” He claimed your lips in a slow, languid kiss—something deep and loving, just as the poets described it.
The world wrapped around you like a soft blanket, as sleep drifted into you both, sending you off to the land of hopeful dreams. Nicholas mumbled something incoherent, perhaps another declaration of love, before dozing off, a knight finally at rest.
genre. best friends younger brother AU, non-traditional ABO, SVT Mingyu mentioned, pwp, M/F, fluff, one shot
warnings. alpha/omega dynamics, older y/n, mutual pining, profanity, alcohol mentioned, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 15,000+
now playing. Fever//Enhypen
smut warnings. dom sunghoon, strength kink, manhandling, submission, oral, rimming, slick, phone sex, masturbation, use of ‘oppa’, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, squirting, praising, sex in public, exhibitionism, anal, subspace, unprotected rut sex, breeding, knotting, etc… whew..
a/n. ended up only editing half of this…
How many times am I going to have to lose my keys inside of this bag before I learn?
Grunting out of irritation, groceries slip from between your strained fingers; numbed from the short walk from the parking lot that seems much longer as blood drains from your digits. A lick of hot sweat gathers down from your nape, the languid droplets turning cold upon entering the air conditioned lobby rolling chills across each ridge of your spine.
“God..” Sighing, you shift to squat down and split open your purse in search of your keys; mentally cursing yourself out for constantly ending up like this.
The coat you wish you’d removed now feels heavy, boiling your skin up despite making it indoors. A thin layer of sweat that’s formed over your flesh only makes the cool air swarming you feel suffocating the more you shove through your purse in a frenzy; nose itching as you pick up on a waft of unfamiliar scent.
“Here, let me help you.” A voice echoes throughout the lobby. Trailing footsteps follow, coming to a stop at your side. The heavy aroma of Alpha preceding, punching through your lungs like an iron fist.
“No no!” Initial panic subsides in favor of scurrying away from the new presence, ripping your attention away from your purse to push away. Your neck arches upward in slow motion to take in every inch of the Alpha before you, built legs in snug fitted jeans bulging over firm thighs flex before your confused gaze, breath hitching as you stare straight ahead bewildered in a lost daze. A pronounced lump sitting between the Alphas thighs registering faster than your the vulnerable position you’ve landed yourself im. The clear shape cutting through the fabric keeping him tucked away(for the safety of society, clearly). “It’s…”
He squats down, gathering the fallen groceries, bright eyes gawking back at you below well-groomed thick eyebrows raised up to his hairline in surprise. His mouth moves, cheeks bursting up into a child-like giddy smile, arms opening up as if he wants to engulf you.
“No!” You shout out alarmed, scooting yourself away finally and scrambling back onto your feet to stand. Purse left open on the floor in favor of holding out your hands in a submissive manner; as any omega fearing their well-being would.
“It’s me!!” The Alpha hesitates, slowly moving in closer, raising up his own hands to signify that you have nothing to fear. “Sunghoon!”
The name meets your ears muffled, sparking memories of a much younger, lanky, innocently sweet and shy boy. A boy who blushed whenever you would so much as glance at him. A boy with arms at least twice the size smaller than the ones flexing with every shake of his hands.
“S-Sunghoon??” You gawk, swallowing down a dry gust of air. Slowly everything comes into sight, the duffle bag set behind him; the same soft eyes that once watched you full of adoration. Mingyu always teased his little brother whenever you’d leave the room about his ‘crush’. The one you pretended to never acknowledge existed for the sake of not embarrassing the younger.
The rise and fall of his chest calms the longer you stare and take in every new inch of height, span of large muscles. Defined pectorals that peak through the thin cotton material of his shirt, the fabric worn and torn judging by the threads that have come undone around his biceps. The shirt really much too small for the Alpha.
Shutting your mouth after you swear a fly just flew in and back out, the realization of how long you’ve been checking him out hits you; internally ringing alarms to compose yourself. Instinctively squeezing your thighs together— just in case..
“Yes! Sunghoon! It’s me!!” He smiles softly, blinking in relief. Long straight eyelashes fan the tops of his high cheekbones only adding more charm to the innocent act. The tip of his nose glows under the fluorescent lobby lights, shining streaks dancing over his smooth skin; enhancing his still delicate pretty features despite the years of growth. Sunghoon sighs between the smile rounding out his cheeks, top lip pouting out as he lowers his tone. “You really didn’t recognize me?”
“No!” You speak up abruptly, mouth twisting as you cringe. “It’s—I didn’t know right away. Your scent is so..”
Sunghoon’s lips round out in ‘O’, unanswered questions falling together. “Mingyu didn’t tell you I presented?”
“..no.” You finish, bending down to grab your purse. Sunghoon lingers, bending at the waist to retrieve the rest of your groceries.
“Is.. is that okay?” He asks, making no move to step closer despite the urge to scoop you into a bone crushing hug. His Alpha croons, having to shake off the desperate need to get an up close whiff of your scent. The whole reason he came to find you as his feet carried him through the hallway, mindlessly drawn to the hint of beachy aroma that throttled his memory back to the most wonderous years of his life.
Dreams often took him back to sand crushed between his toes, heavy air full of salty water and ocean waves; sun burnt skin covered in coconut creamy lotions steaming under summer heat. each and every time, it all brought him back to you.
A freshly presented omega running down the beach, screaming as his older brother circled around your waist, lifting you up in his larger arms. Sandy soles waved through the air, an ache passing through his chest as he watched on and craved more than anything to trade places with his brother. The cool masculine Alpha he could only wish to be someday.
Maybe then you would have noticed him, seen him as more than some runt kid. How could you when he had to beg his mom to not ask you to babysit him, or when Mingyu kept you distracted by flexing his arms in front of you, setting off an embarrassing coil throughout your gut. The shy way you’d look off and smile only drove Sunghoon crazier each time, pocketing those memories for years to come; imagining himself on the receiving end of one of your demure smiles that only he would be able to cause.
“Oh, of course!“ You nod too eagerly, heels scuffing across the marbled lobby floor toward the elevators nervously. “It’s only a few days.”
Sunghoon throws his duffle bag over his shoulder following after you, gnawing at his bottom lip as he enters the elevator alone with you. The doors dinging shut ominously, instantly stiffening your figure at his side.
“I thought you knew..” Sunghoon whispers, almost too low for you to catch. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I should be the one who’s sorry..” you stammer, gazing in despair at the blinking numbers above the doors. Hand instinctively gripping the strap of your purse for some type of purchase, a pathetic plea to calm yourself. Lowering your eyes, you notice the scuff marks on the points of your toes, heels worn down after work and a trip to the store. “You probably think I’m so rude. Your scent just really caught me off guard..”
Sunghoon shifts foot to foot at your side, subtly brushing the tip of his nose on his shoulder, curious to see if he can smell himself. Maybe his scent was unpleasant? Worry passes through his mind more than he’d prefer to let on by your reaction to his presence.
“Is it..is it—like really bad?” He squeaks, the doors dinging open like a breath of fresh air. Nearly hurdling yourself out into the wide hallway to get out, your breath hitches caught in your throat as you fan for air.
Stupid coat, that’s why you’re sweating like a pig. Nothing to do with the Alpha hovering around you like some type of grim reaper..
“It’s totally okay Hoon!” You sigh, relieved to create some distance with the Alpha. Striding forward at a fastened pace, and biting your lower lip viscously to not let out an uncontrollable moan; completely mortified that just two minutes near the Alpha already had your hole gushing slick. The true curse of being an unclaimed omega.
With speed you jerk open the front door to your apartment. The sound of your keys slapping the ground once you kick it open in a rush. Sunghoon follows after you, only growing further concerned.
“If it’s not okay…” he begins, entering inside behind you, suddenly taken over by an overwhelming wave of calm. His shoulders instantly relax, the tired ache in his muscles disappearing as if he just finished a full body massage. Your scent is everywhere, pulling up memories of rolling around in your bed whenever you’d gone to use the restroom. Shutting his eyes for a few seconds, he licks at the roof of his mouth, savoring the notes traced through your scent that he swears he’d forgotten; mentally reminding himself to act cool. Gone were the days of acting like some horny teenage boy lusting after his brother’s best friend..
“It’s fine!” Stepping out of your heels, your feet practically howl in rejoice, hissing silently to yourself as your fingers twitch to rub your numbed soles. Ignoring the need, you take the groceries from him, keeping your gaze lowered in hopes of not losing your train of thought; having to make an extra mental effort to not stare at the Alpha like some sex-starved Omega. “Thanks so much for bringing these up. I’ll start cooking up some dinner for us.”
Hobbling away, you direct Sunghoon to the couch as you pass through the living room. “Set your bag down! Hope you don’t mind the small space. The couch is pretty comfortable! I promise.”
Sunghoon laughs, chiming like holiday bells ringing at your ears, heart clenching instantaneously in reaction as you nearly halt in your tracks with the need to watch his teeth on full display. Dropping the groceries down, you make a quick movement to hide behind the kitchen wall, thumping your forehead gently upon the plaster. The dried paint somehow still sticky against your damp skin. Muttering a hushed ‘get it together!’ You take a minute to inhale a deep breath, sternly shouting at yourself to calm down.
“Phew..” reaching for a pot to boil water for pasta, you grab one of the grocery bags in search of ingredients . “Hoonie loves pasta..” You say, nodding at the memory of the adorable little boy’s cheeks covered in red sauce.
He takes the chance to walk around the small living room, dizzying thoughts grounded as he admires the photos you’ve framed. Most of them with Mingyu, but the one that catches his attention the most is from your last summer back home. You seemed too excited to finally escape to Seoul and begin ‘adulthood’. He really did try his best the last few years to move on after your departure..
After presenting as an Alpha, Omegas were no challenge for Sunghoon, but that never stopped him from thinking of you whenever his rut hit. Buried deep inside whichever Omega had begged to spend it with him, his Alpha took full control over him too often at times, even going as far as screaming your name whenever he released. The Omegas under him couldn’t even complain after getting the dick down of their life. They could never compare to the one and only Omega constantly running through his mind, your existence alone taunting him daily, ready to fall to his knees and beg for a taste at the mere mention of your name.
“Ah, you found my photo gallery huh?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. Sunghoon nods, setting the photo frame back into place and softly grazing his younger self in the corner of the photo staring longingly after you.
Sighing, he heads to the couch and lands with bounce to test out the cushions. As if it mattered, his brother offered him no more than the floor whenever he’d visit, he’d take a hard couch over that any day.
“Yea, those were good times… you okay?” Sunghoon inquires, noticing the way you limp across the living room. Nestling into the corner of the couch, you breathe out a long sigh, back aching and cracking as you get comfortable.
“Tired.” You laugh lazily. “Sorry I’m not much entertainment. Work was so busy today.” Rolling your face to the side against the couch, you quickly give him a once over before dropping your gaze to the floor. Still in too much awe to begin comprehending how much he’s grown.
“Your feet hurt?” Sunghoon smiles mischievously, reaching toward your knees before you can manage to pull away, thumb smoothing over the bone sticking out. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of known for giving the greatest foot massages.”
“Oh no…you can’t! I haven’t even showered yet.” You murmur nervously, self-conscious and weary, subtly attempting to inhale some of your scent. You should have rushed to the shower, but sitting down for a bit was too tempting.
“Ah don’t be silly. You smell great..” Sunghoon’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, large hands encasing your knees and sweeping down behind them to your calves. He tugs your legs up effortlessly even with the resistance you apply, laying your legs across his lap and pinching your stockings between two fingers. “You should take these off.”
“Uh..” you falter, concentrating on his palms skimming up the length of your leg. Fingertips languidly drag up, smoothing up between your thighs. He stops, breathing in and out slowly, peering down focused on the way your muscle jumps under his touch; the body heat between your legs warming his hands up like a furnace.
“Thigh highs..” Sunghoon mumbles, gaze trailing up to find yours. It’s a mere graze of skin on skin, barely touching your inner thigh, but it’s enough. Reacting faster than you can think to stop yourself, a stream of slick pushes past your hole, opening up to make a huge mess of your underwear. Sunghoon’s neck visibly bobs up and down, no doubt hit in the face with the pungent smell of Omegan desire. “Can I?”
Even if he’s affected he doesn’t show it. Smooth and calm, he tugs on the lace at the top of your thigh. Thinking you nod in response, you bend at the knee further, allowing him to strip the material off.
“Once I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging me to move in..” Sunghoon smiles, throwing in an added wiggle of his strong eyebrows. Heated palms squeeze up your thigh, strong, so strong. Exuding power and strength in each delicate touch, he rubs and kneads at your tensed muscles. The tips of his fingers digging in, rolling your tendons in fluid motions, effortlessly looseing the tension cramping through the backs of your legs.
“Fu—“ you start to mumble, pursing your lips shut and sinking deeper into the cushion behind you as if that will help to hide your obvious arousal.
“Feels good? You’re so tight.” Sunghoon breathes out each word. His biceps seemingly growing larger in size as he shimmies down your leg. The muscles flexing up his arms are just too big.. big enough to lock around your chest while he fucks you into a groveling pitiful silly mess…
“Am I doing a good job? You’re not saying anything..” Sunghoon’s eyes lift, face lowered only fueling the maniacal lust driving a force down the middle of your chest. Gasping, your thighs open to allow him further entrance. The fresh scent of slick tickling at your nose, without a doubt slamming into Sunghoon’s..
“Ye-..”
The familiar sound of splash sizzling as it meets fire erupts, similar to a rope wrapped around your neck hurling you back to reality. You shoot up in panic, kicking your calves away from his working hands. “Oh shit! The noodles!” Screeching and bodily twisting away, you manage to escape his hold. Hobbling your way back to the kitchen with a face hidden to your chest covered in humiliation; knees pinched together to contain another gush of slick from streaking down your inner thighs.
How will you ever survive these next two days?
“Sunghoon?..” stumbling into the living room half-awake, you comb back your messy pillow static head of hair as you approach the couch. The blankets and pillows left stacked neatly together at the corner, sadly missing the Alpha who you’d left sleeping there the night before.
Taking a quick survey around and listening for the shower, no signs of Sunghoon shows. Cautiously and against your better judgment, you sit down where he’d slept through the night. A waft of alluring Alpha scent springs off the cushions; circling around your head just like a drug, inducing weakness through your limbs and the desire to succumb.
The desire to feel every part of him flow through your veins, fill you so full of cum that it’d even spurt from your nose, as ridiculous as that sounds..
The disgusting thought snaps your eyes open. Gripping at the cushion around your hips to stop yourself from grinding down to have a mere sliver of the Alpha stuck to your skin.
The front door unlocks, sending your neck jerking back too fast, grimacing as you reach for the muscle; jaw dropping at the vision stepping into your apartment.
Sunghoon saunters in, shirtless, soaked. Sweat intensely pouring down his chest at an obscene speed. Drenched hair matts and clings to his forehead, haphazardly shoved in different directions giving peaks of his post-workout heated skin.
He stands there rubbing a towel over the back of his neck, cheeks ruddy and puffy as if he’d exerted all of his energy. The pink hue of his lips matched up to the tone blushed across his nose for once.
A thin trail of hair leading below his sweats demands your attention. The gray cotton material concealing his lower-half absolutely soaked, appearing darker as your eyes travel lower. The evidence of an excruciating workout, evidently exhausting his body of hydration. His tongue laps out, slowly licking across his upper lip, swallowing at the lack of saliva coating his mouth. Moving inside without noticing you yet, he kicks the door shut behind him.
“Oh!” Sunghoon spots you, finally. A smile that could go to war with the sun expanding over his face.
“Wow..” you swallow, near the brink of tears. Having to shut your eyes and curse under your breath.
“You just wake up?” Sunghoon jogs over, laughing as he leans down to plant a moist kiss on your forehead. “Sorry, I probably stink..”
“You smell amazing.” You practically shout, the sudden urge to permanently zip your mouth shut filling your brain, body scorching under his intrigued gaze.
“You too..” Sunghoon grins, his sharp canines lingering where they dig into his lower lip. Grimacing, he frowns and backs away, tasting the stale dryness around the inside of his mouth- “I should..rinse my mouth and brush my teeth.”
Sunghoon mumbles quickly and slides past you to the bathroom. Stuck on his tantalizing aroma, you follow after him like a lost pet helplessly seeking an owner. You lean against the door frame, admiring each tiny dip in his stomach. Taut muscles hardened as he turns on the sink, bending down to splash water on his face. An Alpha down to the size of his broad shoulders and pronounced chest.
“There’s mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.” You inform, sounding far off and distracted. Itching to scratch down the mountains of brawn moving along his backside, back wings stuck out beautifully, giving him a near angelic appearance.
“Oh, thanks.” Sunghoon’s face lights up, water driblets cascading down his long neck. Adam’s apple bouncing in the center, glistened like a treat just begging to be eaten. Every scenario of possibilities plays in your mind much too fast to process, nearly missing the sensation of hot slick melting out of your core to ruin another pair of underwear.
“Do you take these?” Sunghoon inquires, pulling out a packet of white pills from the cabinet. A frown drags down his lively features, etching lines between his eyebrows.
“Oh God.” Snatching the pills from him, you disguise the hint of shame taking over your face quickly, tucking away the incriminating evidence behind your robe.
“It’s just—heat suppressants are so bad for Omegas!” Sunghoon panics, hands flailing out to emphasize how serious this matter is. “They cause weak fertility! Depression! Loss of appetite! Suppressing your heat goes against our natur-..”
“Sunghoon! Enough alright?!” You snap, exiting the bathroom to not further escalate a possible argument. As if you hadn’t heard each and every damn warning already.
Sunghoon follows after you, mouth gaping open and shut like a fish out of water, fingertips itching at his hips to reach after you.
“I know, okay?!” You turn abruptly, face colliding with the center of his dampened chest, nearly hurdled back if not for his quick reflexes swooping a hold around your waist. Sunghoon keeps you steady, the powerful aura surrounding him enough to do the job.
“Why do you take them then?..” his handsome features scrunch together, concerned eyes going wide as they bounce over your face. Warm comforting palms slide down your arms ending at your elbows to stroke over the inner crook, intentionally soft, soothing and harmless; as if he can read the annoyance beginning to build up through your limbs. The sour scent radiating off of you helping to convince him, of course.
“I need to—I don’t always..” you start, chin tipped in to stare at anything else besides the devastatingly attractive Alpha. Life had been too hectic and busy to stay on track with your suppressants as of late. It’d been weeks since you last kept on schedule with taking them really.
“You have no one to spend it with?” Sunghoon questions, the corner of his mouth twitching to the side in confusion. An omega like you? Alone during heat? That’s—damn near blasphemous.
“It’s not a big deal.” You explain, easing your arms away from his hold. Your Omega more than satisfied at such close proximity to a delicious smelling Alpha. It’s upsetting really, how fast your instincts are ready to drop any and all morals. Screaming at you to fall to your knees and present yourself, raging on that our Alpha needs us, wants us.
“Of course it is.” Sunghoon scoffs, cooly maneuvering his palms to cup your hips. Thumbs continuing to rub gentle circles over your pelvic bone. “I can’t believe you don’t just ask Mingyu for help.”
“Ew! Sick. I would never.” You chide, hating the way your feet stick to the ground like you’ve walked into quicksand. Stuck, willingly, under the Alphas hands.
“…oh..” Sunghoon blinks rapidly, putting two and two together. Fingers bury deeper into your hips, stepping toe to toe with you. “You could always.. call me up. I—I would love—I mean..” clearing his throat, the Alpha straightens. “I would love to help you.”
“What?!” You squak, moving back another foot. Hands collapsing at his sides as you pull away, fearing he’s misread the vibe. Sunghoon’s brows lift up out of fearful surprise, head shaking quickly.
“What?”
“What!”
“Uh..” glancing around awkwardly, he folds bulged biceps across his chest. Shrugging as he averts his attention to the digital clock ticking away too loud amongst the stiff tension between you. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna be late. Uhm, see you later? I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Yeah yeah…uh, good luck or, I mean, have fun!” You wince, not even sure what he’s off to do as you duck your flushed face and wave him off before he runs off to the bathroom to shower.
One more day.
You sigh.
One more day.
Sunghoon stumbles in, loud, making a ruckus as he slams into the wall. The front door shutting impactfully as he crashes back into it, breaking into a round of giggles. Jumping awake from your sleep, you sit up from the couch and rub your eyes, blearily squinting at his stumbling figure; having drifted off at some point in the last hour after growing tired of waiting for him to show up. You groan, beginning to mumble about how dinner has long gone cold by now.
“Hoon, are you okay?” Getting up from the couch, you approach him, his eyes shooting open at the sight of you in nothing but your bathrobe. Too lazy and hot after your shower to make yourself lotion up and put on a fresh pair of pajamas. He moves down the hall toward you, drawing you close to his torso with arms belted around your waist.
“Did you wait up for me?” He asks, sounding hopeful.
“Jesus..” your head jerks back, hit with a wave of alcohol coating breath. “You’re real drunk, aren’t you.” Groaning, you take a step back and wrap your fingers around his biceps, eyes fluttering shut exhausted. Exhausted from just being around the Alpha at this point. Even smelling straight out of a vodka bottle his enticing scent hook line and sinks you; hazing your perception of reality and taking every bit of willpower you have left to not maul him like a crazed feral beast.
“Drunk on you..” Sunghoon wiggles his eyebrows, bending his knees slightly to tap his forehead on yours. “You smell so good for me.”
“Hoon...” rubbing at the backs of his arms, firm triceps flex out only to mock you, unable to fight the incessant urge to squeeze and feel him up. Reasoning with yourself how you’d later regret it if not..
“Shh shh..” he presses on, the tip of his nose meeting yours. Lips close enough to brush along your Cupid's bow as he drawls on. “Alpha. Call me Alpha. Please.”
“Sungho-…” his lips work fast to trace yours, testing out the waters with a quick lick down the center of your upper lip. Finding no resistance his mouth plants down, capturing the moan escaping past your tongue, clinging onto his arms like a vine as he props you against the hallway wall. The taste of alcohol hits the back of your throat returning you to reality, eyes flying open to find his shoulders and give him the saddest excuse of a shove.
“No, we—” Sunghoon’s thumb caresses your lower lip, interrupting you. Drunken gaze flickering across your lust filled expression, his other hand finding your wrist, lifting your slacked arm up easily. Pinning it above your head, he leaves you with no option other than to press to the wall, hips pressing to yours without a struggle.
“No what?” Sunghoon whispers, hot puffs of breath dancing like fire flames over your cheeks. His thumb lazily dips down on your tongue, concentrating on the way you lick around the tip. Mind going straight to images of you laid out sucking down his length, taking the entirety of his knot down your throat, pleading for endless amounts of cum like the good Omega he knows you’ll be for him.
Shutting your eyes to regain your composure, your eyebrows squeeze together in hopes of forming some type of coherent thought, waves of heat crashing them all away and muddling any rationalization to get you out of this situation.
‘He’s your best friend’s little brother.’
‘He can’t control himself. Your pheromones are too strong, this isn’t what he really wants.’
‘He’s a young, attractive, and single Alpha. He’ll ruin you.’
It’s as if Sunghoon can hear everything you’re thinking, rolling his hips forward to break you out of your stupor. His thick chubbed up cock digs into your hip, drawing out a strangled moan as the warmth pulsing against your body lures you closer to giving up. Trembling desperately and aching all the more as he exposes his neck to you, long throat arched back to proudly show off his scent gland. The strongest whiff of aroused Alpha tickles at your senses without even needing to drag your nostrils across his pristine throat.
“Stop fighting it, Omega.” Sunghoon leans in, half-lidded heavy gaze staring into yours. His wet thumb swipes down your chin to the middle of your neck to push down, gasping for air faster as he grinds against you.
“We shouldn’t.” You pant out breathlessly. The air around you hard to swallow, full of heated arousal, powerful Alpha scent triggering puddles of slick to drip down your inner thighs. Sunghoon smirks, sliding his thumb lower, robe parting open down the center of your chest under his ministrations. Breasts rise and fall rapidly with each taunting graze of skin, skidding over the loosely tied knot at your waist only to bypass it and finally come to a stop where your thighs spread open.
“What is this then?” Sunghoon licks the backs of his teeth, biting down on the tip of his tongue, cleaning off a glossy layer of slick with the same thumb that’d just been in your mouth. The lower half of his weight keeps you held back, unable to move away beneath his stronger physique.
“Hoon, please..” your eyes itch, blinking away the rapid moisture filling up your sockets. Lifting his hand, he turns his thumb side to side slowly, gazing in admiration. Even through your blurred sight and escalating humiliation you can’t stop the wetness from oozing out of your core; the thick trickle only solidifying how badly you not only want this but need this.
“Never imagined you to be such a beggar..” Sunghoon’s eyebrows quirk. Nodding down and returning his thumb to your parted lips. “Always thought you’d make me beg.”
Whimpering, you weakly try to blink away the tears flowing from the corners of your eyes, tongue lapping off the incriminating slick from his digit. Sunghoon bends closer, forehead shoved to yours.
“You taste that? That’s how much you want me.” He teases, thumb thrusting in deeper past your lips to push down on your tongue until you gag. “You’ll be a good omega for me, yeah? Let Alpha do whatever he wants with you?”
Your knees buckle at his words, widened terrified gaze staring up in awe as you suck his thumb off with skill needing to impress. A dreadful need to satisfy and please begins to consume you whole, giving a pitiful yet eager nod as your lips slide off with a pop.
“No no no.” Sunghoon tuts, prodding his way back in. “Get on your knees, and don’t stop sucking until Alpha tells you to.”
Dropping down on command, your knees meet the floor as if you’re meant to be there. His broadened frame only seems even larger at the new angle, the heady scent of Alpha cum so strong from this level, filling up his balls the second your eyes draw up to him.
Your pretty wanton face below infuses his chest up with a sense of power. A need to fuck, claim, destroy. Leave you absolutely obliterated, completely shattered in small little pieces that only he can put back together. It’s intoxicating, addicting, everything he’s ever dreamed of.
“Keep sucking.” Sunghoon urges you, thumb pressing down on the backs of your teeth. Stumbling backward, he leaves you no choice but to follow him as you crawl; lips wrapped around his thumb sucking like a baby. Knees burn against the hallway carpet as you try to keep up with his pace, never once losing eye contact as he leads you through the path down the hall to your bedroom. Breathing out harshly through your nose, the salty taste of outside air stuck on his skin coats your tongue and mixes with your saliva, sucking faster and harder until the only thing left to taste on the Alphas skin is yourself.
“Fuck..” Sunghoon’s shoulder meets your door frame, knees giving in as he comes down to meet you face to face. His thumb pops free, gleaming in the dim light with your spit. It all smears around your chin, spilling freely out of the corners of your mouth as he takes extra time to hold your bottom lip open. Heat taking over his mind and painting the most beautiful obscene image he’s ever seen. “Need to taste you.”
Sunghoon cups your face, hauling you closer to his mouth, lips connect to yours, hot mouths intertwining. Licking around without missing an inch, a hunger to try every little piece of you overcomes him.
He’s so overpowering, shoving you back with his weight, your legs limply cupped over the crook of his elbow. Pushing down, he slithers lower, leaving burning pecks of his lips everywhere. Your flesh throbbing under each taunting collision of his mouth, skin lifted up as if actual marks have been left behind.
It’s nearly disgusting the way his nose dips between your folds, more drunk off your pure feral induced wetness than any alcohol could get him. A string of curses squeeze from between his teeth, biting back the urgent need to ravage you. Wanting to take his time to open you up and let you feel every lick and suck, he tenderly drags up and down your core. A mess of slick coats his chin and lips, skin cooling from the soil of your potent desire for him.
“You’re perfect, such a perfect omega.” Sunghoon cries out, his eyes wrinkle shut, forehead creasing down the center from how hard he’s trying to control the incessant rage to fuck you hard enough to break a hole into the ground.
“Sunghoon…ah, please.” You whine, rolling your hips up. Slick slapping against his chin with a lewd slap, the noisy wetness turning you both on all the more.
“Alpha.” Sunghoon hits the side of your thigh roughly. His eyes rolling up leaving nothing but white behind, possessed as he laps at your clit akin to a hungry dog. Tongue rolling your bundles of nerves just right, jaw hinged open to fully engulf the entirety of your cunt. Teasing at your entrance, he takes time to circle around the pulse of your heat, testing the contracting give with experimental dips. The tip of his tongue tortures your hole, making you squeeze around him and chase after for more.
His tongue travels everywhere, reaching each stop successfully. Earning a shocked gasp from you when he dips in your rim and lavvs across the wrinkled muscle as if it’s his last meal.
“Alpha. Alpha.” You mutter, the hallway walls around you spinning, twisting your mind upside down. He pulls off, face dripping much like this morning. Slick painted across his striking features instead of sweat.
“I know, baby.” Sunghoon nods reassuringly, the loving term instantly melting you. He tugs you closer, robe sliding from your shoulders as he cradles you to his chest, staggering for a moment to stand and pick you up all at once to enter your bedroom and lay you out on the bed.
The Alpha bounces your weight in his hold, taking a few short steps before releasing you to lay flat with your legs dangling off the side. He shimmies between your knees, hips pushing you open side to side to accommodate himself. With your hedonistic gaze darting across his broad frame, he grins and hooks his thumbs under the hem of his shirt.
It’s similar to a cheesy scene out of an 80s romcom movie. Sunghoon playing the role of the heart throb that everyone writes about in their diaries at night, crying out fantasies they can only wish on shooting stars to come true.
His bodies flawless, built to perfection. Stomach twitching in with each deep breath, scattered with beauty marks that look good enough to trace together and create new constellations make the tips of your fingers itch. Bending forward at your waist to scratch down the sides of his abdomen, you sigh, the hard planes of muscle still soft and smooth despite their appearance. It’s maddening to finally feel him, pinching together the flesh covering his hips, shoving at the jeans keeping you from what you really want.
The smell of his thick girth hits you first, button nearly flying off as you ferociously tug at his jeans. Rapid movements free what you want quickly, his thick hardened length completely shown off. Too heavy to stand on its own as it dangles before your lips half way up to his stomach. Inching forward eagerly, you lick around the tip to savor the pre-cum already leaking from his slit.
Sunghoon stops you, running fingers through your scalp to softly push you back down on your back. “Later later.. Let me see you.” He insists.
The Alpha stands straight, parting your legs open around his hips with more space to get a good look at your core. Hissing through his teeth, he reaches down to drag the tip of his thumb down your swollen cunt, hole gripping helplessly at nothing. As if you weren’t intent on fucking him until you both pass out.
Sunghoon groans, swiping his thumb to collect the wad of slick collected at your hole, cleaning it from his fingers as he strokes his length to full hardness. The tip of his size prods your entrance, losing his breath as he runs his hands through his hair and rips at tufts between his fingers. The frustration only further prolonged as you sit up and wrap around his shoulders.
“Please, Alpha. Let me just…” you plea, lifting your ass off the bed to grind up and down the stiff girth. Wet puffed out folds squeeze around his length, the moans emitted between you echoing out around your bedroom. Wet lewd sounds growing louder and louder as you continue, using the power of his muscles to lift yourself up and down with weak hands clamped onto his shoulders.
Slick puddles under your bottom, forming a nasty mess, ass landing repeatedly upon the pool of wetness with each roll of your hips clapping out an obscene sound. Sunghoon’s large palms clutch your waist, gritting his teeth as he takes control and lines up to your hole.
“Oh fuck!” He howls, neck tossed back on full display. The dim light from your window pours down the veins pumping full of blood lined up his throat. His stomach sinks in, chest rising and falling rampantly as his cock thrums maddeningly against the heat of your velvety walls.
“Alpha!” You shout, falling back limply. Sunghoon scoops around you, hips falling into a natural rapid speed, fucking you in earnest. Feeding your cunt every inch of length, the clap of his balls slapping shoots out another gush of slick with each pounding thrust, the mess dripping down his thighs.
“Baby, fuck f-fuck..” Sunghoon moans out, lips hung open above yours. Passing exerted breaths into each other's throats as you fail to capture a kiss under the aggressive cant of his hips.
“Alpha—ahh, a-ahh” too overwhelmed by his scent and body heat blanketed around you, tears break out between your moans. Too many pleasure filled sensations erupting at once.
“I’m—I’m cumming.” You croon out weakly, clenched down on his length tightly making it harder for his cock to glide through. Sunghoon grunts, throwing the mass of his body into each thrust the more you resist.
“Fuck!” Shouting past your gritted teeth through your first orgasm only spurs him to fuck you until you know that you only belong to him.
The Alpha licks at sweat layered on his upper lip, pulling out with another row of slaps to your thigh as he effortlessly throws you down. Lifting you by your waist only to display the power he has over you, he turns you around, thrown back down onto your stomach as if you weigh nothing. Showing no sign of struggle, he mounts the backs of your thighs. Shooting stinging pain up your spine with a fierce strike to your ass.
His cock slips back in, growling raspily as he bites out mumbled words about how tight you still are. With his chest pressed to your back, he steals the last bits of air from your lungs leaving you wide-eyed and gasping, scrambling to reach for the edge of the bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sunghoon slurs, hands splayed by the sides of your head as he drops to leave you without room to move an inch. Panting for air, your face turns to take a deep breath, caught in your throat as the flex in his forearms and strain in his biceps radiates before you. Plummeting his hips down, he fucks back in, length filling you deep and full to be nothing but a stupid fuck hole.
“Ahh! Fuck!”” Whimpering, you aimlessly try to lick up and down his right arm. The Alphas eyes grow large gazing ahead, drawn away from the loud smack of your ass on his hips. He lowers again to press you down completely, arms sinking around your neck to place you in a chokehold.
“Is this what you want?” Sunghoon tightens his biceps. Fucking you harder, left with no choice but to suck in struggled breaths the faster he rams into you; choking coughs behind his rippling bicep hitting your chin as he squeezes your neck tighter. Your ass bruises under every impactful hit of his hips, cock pistoning inside at a near inhumane speed, hitting just right where you need. Croaking pathetically, you cry and kick your feet. Fucked by the force of a feral Alpha leaving you with no choice but to submit. “Bite me! Do it!”
His demanding tone has your teeth drilling down, chewing at the meaty muscle in front of you. Growling worse than a wild rouge Omega thats never encountered Alphas. The taut skin under your mouth blooms in pinks and reds, quickly turning shades deeper as blood rises to the surface. The hiss and growl behind you eggs you on to maul at his bicep more, lapping at the risen skin until the marks satisfy your hunger.
Sunghoon circles his hips roughly, struck by your unrelenting mouth chewing on his bicep as if you may actually eat him alive. His hips snap into action, returning to squeeze around your neck until you tap at his forearms and scream from the pleasure.
Sunghoon’s consistent growls boom throughout your room, headboard rocked hard enough to bang against the wall and chip at the paint.
“Alpha! Knot me! Knot me knot me knot me!!” You chant, crazed and cock drunk. Screaming for cum to rip your insides apart. The crave for Sunghoon’s hot climax suffocates you, eyes rolling to meet the back of your skull at the first expansion of his knot.
The Alphas brutal pace breaks, stretching you open enough for your ass to spread open as his size squishes between your thighs and the Alphas load spills. Satiated you beyond relief for a moment, your hands weakly flop down. Leaving behind raw marks of nails and bites all over his built meaty arms, something to look forward to later when he walks around shirtless. Modeled like a true Alpha, proud to be marked up by an Omega.
“You like that?” Sunghoon gasps, sucking up the sweat draping your nape. Warm words breathed against your skin muddle your thoughts deeper into a lost abyss. “Like how I fuck you full baby?”
With another jolt of his hips, his arms loosen around your throat, reaching down around your waist to lay your bodies onto your sides. Knot lodged in place as endless shoots of cum fill up your womb.
His knot stretches you open for what feels like hours, pussy lips swollen and hugged around him as he softens. Sunghoon stays as still as possible to not cause you any discomfort, a pained hiss fleeing his lips as your cunt sucks around him begging for more.
Cuddling up to your back, he smooths a large palm down past the dip of your waist; ending at your hip to trace soft circular motions. A deep humm sounds from his chest, vibrating down your spine.
You squirm, smushing your bottom down on against his hips; persistent that he fuck you again, and again.
“Shh shhh, stay like this for a little baby. You’re so tight, have to get you used to what a real Alpha feels like.” Sunghoon cooes, kissing up your shoulder to your ear finishing in a heated whisper. His tongue dips inside, licking between each crevice. Soft cock beating akin to a heart inside of your wet core, he thrusts up only once, size twitching as he expands. Hips circling, stirring your guts with the tip of his cock nestled against your cervix.
“Mmm Alpha…big..” you mewl, too strung out to form anything more coherent. Rubbing your cheek on your bedding carrying Sunghoon’s most primal scent.
“I’ll have you formed to take my cock soon. Leave you fucked so full of cum every day, take care of you through every heat baby. Leave you hung off my knot until it’s all you know.” Sunghoon goes on, grumbling nonsensically.
“..every heat?” You ask, tightening around his length, chubbing back up as he grows and stretches your walls apart. Each vein lining his thrumming girth pulses inside of you faster as excitement builds.
“Every. Single. One.” Sunghoon nibbles down the expanse of your throat, sharp teeth sinking in your shoulder, pulling out to just the tip. He thrusts in one full go leaving you choking for air. “You’re my omega now.”
“It’s only been a few weeks Hoonie, you can’t miss me that much.”
“Don’t you ever miss it out here though?” Sunghoon’s voice blends with the waves crashing mere feet before him, his teeth taking up more than half of your phone screen as he waves an arm toward the ocean. Large toothy smile full of happiness.
That type of care-free ‘life is weightless in this moment’ happy. One of those rare joys only present under warm sun, spending his last days back home stuck at the beach before university takes up his days to come.
He lets out a laugh, rumbling deeply through your phone's speaker, jogging away as the tide catches up to him and falling to his knees on a dry patch of sand. He leans in closer displaying the high pink glow simmering across his round cheeks.
“Burying your toes in the sand..” Sunghoon sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a minute to enjoy the thick salt water breeze. Damp dark locks frame around his forehead, blowing softly with the breeze. He sucks air between his teeth, tasting the last days of summer on his tongue. “Coming out here late at night, counting all the constellations. Pretending to act scared whenever we swore we spotted flying saucers..”
“I never liked the water much honestly.” You groan, adjusting onto an elbow to admire the Alphas brightly lit features closer. The three weeks since you’d last seen each other felt like months now. From late night texts that quickly escalated to heavy exerted breaths through the line; passing secrets of lust and desires that would be hard to reveal face to face.
“You don’t like water?!” He clutches at his chest dramatically, letting out a broken hearted sigh. “Why are you trying to ruin all of my memories of you walking out of the ocean in slow motion? You have no idea how many ruts those have helped me through.”
“Alpha, I had no clue you were this much of a pervert.” Your eyes roll playfully, easing deeper into your bed under the tune of Sunghoon’s vocals, interrupted with occasional laughter. Quietly listening with your face half buried in a pillow as his banter grows into an argument he’d had with Mingyu earlier.
“I told him! That’s MY razor! He’s so stubborn! Hasn’t even lived at home for years yet still manages to find ways to annoy me.” He sneers, causing you to hide away from his view to calm your traitorous heart.
Even his whining is cute.
Clearly he’d done quite the number on you.
Sunghoon pipes up again, continuing on in an even whinier tone about how you keep disappearing from the camera.
“Hey..can I call you later?” The Alpha asks with a hint of shyness, chin tucked in.
“Of course you can, little baby.” You snicker, amused. “So polite.”
“I don’t know, what if you’re sick of me already.” Now his eyes roll, putting forward a nonchalant act, a mildly defensive one. “I’ve been calling you everyday, you know.”
Flush spills down your cheeks, filling your chest with warmth. “I’ll never get sick of you.”
Sunghoon calls right as you climb into bed ready to relax, mentally preparing scenarios of rapturous dreams to peel away the day's exhaustion.
Thick eyebrows and a wrinkled forehead take over your phone screen, knitted together with confusion.
“Can you turn your light on?” He asks, desperately, slowly extending out his arm to unveil the bare planes of his defined chest muscles. “Was kind of hoping we could..”
The camera lowers enough to catch a glimpse of hip indentations, tight stomach muscles and a patch of hair leading to heavenly bliss.
“Ah, Alpha, is that why you called me so late?” Stifling back a yawn, you peak at the time as you reach for your bedside lamp. 11:45pm, a real nightcap.
“We haven’t tried this over video yet.” Sunghoon’s eyebrows bounce suggestively.
“Did you just take a shower?” You note the water droplets clinging to the ends of his hair, cascading down his chest as they fall.
He angles the camera lower, propping it against some container to capture all of his torso, built arms, broad shoulders and long neck.
“I did..” his voice lowers, reaching off camera just below his navel. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Alpha, are you?…”
“Last time, when you were biting me..” Sunghoon smirks, his eyes shadowed and nearly cut off from your view. Lips twitching at the corners as his bicep begins to jerk, beginning to stroke his length out of view. “That's all I can think about now.”
“W-when do you think about it?” You flush, dipping inside of your underwear. A rush of slick trickles through your fingers, passing back and forth to smear it around. Sunghoon’s muscles flex delectably, biting back a groan.
“All the time..let me—let me see.” He pleads, stepping back far enough to catch a glimpse of the base of his shaft. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”
Acting fast, you shove up on the bed, setting your phone against a pillow with one hand. A row of curses echo, Sunghoon pulling at his length to hit his stomach with a loud slap, palm flattened as he rubs. Precum spreads around the center of his abs creating a line of gloss down the middle of his abdominal, biting down a groan.
“I think about biting you too..” He mutters, keeping his moans as quiet as possible in his bedroom back home. “Mark you up, leave a piece of me all over you. Bite you hard enough to scar, remind you who you belong to.”
His breath catches, wrapping around his size as he gains speed. Clutching onto whatever his phone sits on with his free hand, his stomach caves in, jerkily twisting up to meet his working strokes.
“Alpha..” you arch forward, matching up to his movements with your digits. Rubbing your clit in circles, fixated on the way his chest tightens and protrudes out with deep inhales.
“I’m close.” His throat bobs, bending in closer. Hunched over in half as he rapidly pulls at his cock. Throaty grunts charge through your core, writhing up imagining him on top of you easily like this.
“Ughhh Hoon..” you whimper, eyebrows bunched together painfully. As quiet as he tries to be, the growl behind each stifled moan is enough to stir your gut into a frenzy.
Choked gasp of air fills the room, both of you climaxing seconds apart. Chasing the relief of release from days of pining through text messages and calls.
“I haven’t—that—ever..” you let out a laugh between exhausted sighs. Orgasm crashing through the end of your spine like a car wreck, head still spinning watching Sunghoon’s glistening cum-coated abdomen twitch. He’s chewing over his bottom lip, continuously dribbling cum, shooting weakly and haphazardly between the etched lines across his stomach.
“Me either..fuck..” he’s says breathlessly, dragging fingers through his re-dampened sweaty locks. “Can’t wait to see you.”
“You make my brain hurt, Alpha.” You giggle, dropping your face to the side holding back a yawn.
“I can make more than that hurt.”
It’s reminiscent of the first time you reunited with Sunghoon all over again, your heart pounds erratically. Nervous pangs pierce through your gut, shoes scuffing against the sidewalk the more rapid your pacing grows.
His dazzling smile feels like a punch through your ribcage, lodging a row of breaths in your lungs as he walks over to you.
He's as handsome as ever, black hair quaffed away from his face. A beaming smile pushing his cheeks up that radiates even more in person. A baby Alpha in all of his glory, flourishing under rays of sunlight, as if the sky was made only for him.
“Hey” his voice breaks your haze, the sound of Sunghoon’s heavy bag landing on the pavement barely registers. Built arms encase your waist, swiftly swooping you from the ground.
A round of careless laughter swirls around. The Alphas nose searches for easy access to your neck as deep inhales tickle along your scent gland, close enough for Sunghoon’s eyelashes to flutter against your jaw.
“Sunghoon!” You shriek, dropping your forehead to his shoulder sheepishly. Thick palms slip down tightly gripping over your backside. The Alphas chest rumbling as he squeezes and lets go repeatedly.
“I missed you so much.” He whispers, delivering a light slap to your bottom. Setting you back on your feet to get a good look at your face. “Three weeks is much too long.”
“You’re toooo much.” It’s hard to not whine under the Alphas trained gaze, his affect more powerful than you were willing to accept.
“But you like it.” Sunghoon’s grin expands, twirling your figure around gleefully. “It’s not like I finally grabbed your attention by being too little.”
The added flex of his biceps is meant to be nothing but impromper. Tugging your face into the warmth of his chest, lips brush along your earlobe.
“If I remember correctly, you enjoyed how much I am. Over and over again, until your eyes fell into the back of your head.” He goes on, murmuring softly. “Has anyone ever fucked you like that? Made you die and come back to life?”
You’re tempted to fan yourself as you pull away. Palms lingering on his defined pecs longer than you should.
“College did a real number on you.” Your eyes roll. No need to further stress yourself over how much experience he’d gained the past few years. The smooth attitude and natural confidence was enough. Far from the young boy who threw a tantrum the one time you were asked to babysit him.
This Sunghoon, he knew what he was doing. He knew how to finesse for what he wanted. Masked intent of a vulture hidden behind that perfect smile.
“Now, before you toss me down to the floor and eat me alive in front of all these innocent bystanders—let’s get going.” You motion along to your car. Failing to not notice the flex and contorts in Sunghoon’s bared arms. The way his forearms twitch as he hauls up his bag setting off alarms.
“Would that be so bad? If I took you right here.” He answers lacking sarcasm. Trailing close behind you. He nods to a nearby bench. “I like the idea.. of getting caught.”
Unlocking your car, you open the passenger door for him. A need to knock him off his high horse for just a second.
“That’s a bit much don’t you think?” You snicker, ignoring how flustered he already has you. “Your chariot awaits, Madam.”
Sunghoon’s blinding smile returns. Slowly analyzing your face, noting the way your gaze darts around him. Avoiding direct eye contact. His throat clears, leaning in closer.
“I’m into whatever you’re into, baby. None of that toxic masculinity Alpha bullshit.”
“You’re really so..” you bristle, shaking your head. Resisting an incessant urge to smile back.
“I’m really soooo..” he sighs, throwing his bag inside. Chin coming to rest on the opened car door. Blinking too fast reminds you of old times. Your best friend's little brother staring at you over the couch. Pouting until you’d invite him to sit by your side during movie nights.
“Yea. You are.” You end it there. Tapping the car door, directing him to climb in. With a smirk and a lifted brow, Sunghoon settles inside the car.
Never one to waste time, he compliments your dress. Thankful that a push of a button reved your engine to life. An image of fumbling your keys with sweaty fingers passes by dreadfully.
“Is it possible you’ve gotten even more beautiful since the last time I saw you?” Sunghoon lets out a sappy sigh. Reaching out for your hand closest to him, tracing the tips of your knuckles. He’s relentless.
“Ah.. stop..” you wave his touch off. Ignoring how much warmer everything felt with the Alpha near. The spectacle he made back at the train station was enough to leave you embarrassed and thirsty. “I’m driving now, behave yourself.”
“I could drive..” Sunghoon makes no effort to hide his stare. Scanning your exposed thighs up to your tapered waist. A cute dress bringing all of your curves to light. You had to know he was going to scoop you up by your ass after three weeks of masturbating over the phone. “You could do something else.”
You scoff turning into a neighborhood. GPS navigating through the speakers to avoid heavy traffic this way. Sunghoon peeps through the windshield noting an empty street, advancing with his chance to make a move. A large palm splays over your thigh, inching his fingertips between where you’re squished together.
“Alpha..” you gasp in surprise. Gripping the wheel tighter, stretching skin across your knuckles painfully. “What are you doing?”
“Pull over.” Sunghoon lowers his voice. Pinching the delicate warmed skin between your legs.
“You need to wait..” you start, subtly glancing around the street for an area to park.
“I can’t wait. It’s been weeks. I’m serious. You’re lucky I didn’t take you back there at the station.” Sunghoon bites down on his lip. Firm grasp growing more aggressive, kneading over your inner thigh like doe. “I can smell you leaking for me already.“
“Sunghoonnnn…” you drag out his name just to taunt him. Already reversing into a spot, car jerking thanks to the Alpha shifting into park before you’ve straightened out. “Sunghoon!”
The next thing you know a clicking sound echoes. Seat belt whipping off his shoulder, freeing himself to crawl over the divide. Sunghoon prowling like a starved Alpha, discovering his meal for the day.
“Come here.” His voice turns gruff, muffled. Adjusting your weight off the seat enough to squeeze himself underneath.
“You’re a nuisance!” You squeal. Burying into his chest uncomfortably. Legs stretched out onto the neighboring seat. Sunghoon circles under your thigh, pulling you apart. Throwing your calf over the steering wheel leaving your center exposed.
“Fuck, and you’re dripping wet.” The grin in his tone breaks free. Gathering your dress up with his other hand, burying his chin into your shoulder watching your thighs tremble. “Who’s that for? That for Alpha, baby?”
“Someone could see!” You attempt to pry from his hold. Knee bending over the wheel, clothed core facing the windshield. Anyone walking by would see everything.
“That’s the point.” Sunghoon growls. Nibbling his way up your jaw, sucking on your earlobe. Two fingers dip between your slit pushing the drenched down cotton in. Panties soaking up slick shamefully fast, cunt pushing out around the fabric the harder he seeps inside. “I asked you a question. Who are you this wet for?”
“Hoon..” you whine, twitching against him. Watching through squinted eyes as your core becomes exposed. Underwear completely wedged up inside of you, nestled dangerously deep. Pressing friction on your clit with each swipe of his digits. Slick glosses over his hand, pouring out ferociously.
Sunghoon’s flattened palm smacks down on your mound. Biting roughly at your earlobe with a sound of disappointment. “Do you want this to hurt? I won’t be nice.”
He gathers your weakened underwear, tugging it up roughly. Sending your hips flying up chasing after the painful sting. Engorged clit throbbing painfully the more he tugs at the fabric. Playing with you like a puppet master, left limp, moving at his will.
“Alpha…Alpha..” your neck drops releasing the saddest sob. Sunghoon huffs on your cheek, breath catching from the helpless need emitting.
“My Omega.” He sighs. Pinching your folds over the cotton. Rubbing your aching core back and forth torturously. “Get this wet for me, for your Alpha.”
“Yes yes, it’s for you. It’s for you.” You start to blabber. Rolling your hips up in hopes of something more. “Alpha, it’s for you. Please, please let me.”
“You wanna cum?” Sunghoon mouths your cheek. Squishing into your face, watching the way your eyes roll back up close. Feathery eyelashes fluttering, skin folding between your brows. All of it awakening primal hunger inside. Biting back a growl on your jaw as he fingers your clit. Underwear ruined, see through from the slick dripping down to mid-thigh.
“Alpha..make me—“ your eyes clench shut, teeth gritted. The sound of a car engine revving up stiffening your jerking motions. “Sunghoon!”
“Not so shy anymore are you baby?” He grins, sucking over where your jaw meets your neck. Plunging his digits inside your heat with an aggressive shake. Fingers buried deep throttling your climax forward. Fucking down into the sweet sensation, finally hitting your insides.
“A-Alpha…Alpha!” You scream, arching up hard. Loose leg shaking out, fucked into rough and deep. Orgasm breaking, shooting slick through the air across to the passenger seat. Flowing out around Sunghoon’s hand cupped around your cunt. “Oh fuck!”
Sunghoon’s ragged breaths fill your ears. Eyes blown out in awe watching the way you pour out like a fountain. Squirting far enough to hit the window.
“All that for Alpha?” He questions only to mock you. Dragging his fingers free and landing a smack over your sopping panties. “Where am I supposed to sit now?”
“I—sorry…Alpha.” You spew. Face turning side to side not even registering anything he’s saying anymore. Sunghoon tsks, sitting you both up straight, rubbing circles on your sore inner thighs.
“Alpha has to do everything for you.” Sunghoon laps up your cheek. Enjoying the taste of tears, his tears. Fallen from your sockets for him. He works over the column of your throat, sucking on tender skin roughly. Sinking his teeth in with a desire for more.
“We..” you mewl, flailing your arms out in search of the wheel. “We need to go.”
With a vexed sigh, he nods. Returning you to your seat with no issue, he makes way back to the other side. His knees meet the floor first, giving you an overly confident look. Dark pools stay fixated on you as the Alphas neck cranes lower. Tongue hung out slurping up the puddle of your slick coating the passenger seat.
“Oh my God.”
Sunghoon looks crazed, sadistic. Rubbing his lips together savoring every hint hidden in your essence. With a vulgar drag of his lips he slurps aggressively. Popping his mouth off with a pleased sound. He winks, sitting down, licking any residue left behind on his chin.
Your bottom jumps up, startled at the sound of your ringtone. Tongue-tied, steadfastly losing any type of coherence after the show Sunghoon had just put on.
“Shit. It’s your brother.” You nibble on your bottom lip with quick panic. Shooting the Alpha a glance at your side, silently saying ‘be quiet’ before answering Mingyu’s call. “Oppa, why are you always calling me at the worst times? I’m driving.”
Sunghoon’s stare traces over your features. Dragging his tongue slowly around the roof of his mouth to quell annoyance. Tickled with a familiar tinge of jealousy. One he’s carried for years. Endless days watching you flirt with Mingyu, the both of you denying any rumors you were ever more than friends. Rumors that only increased once you’d presented.
He bites down on the tip of his tongue. Moving on it’s own the more you carry on conversation. Thrumming his fingertips along the door for some calm. He wards off the clear memories of all the times you’d tease Mingyu. Pouting and widening your eyes as you’d whine in the cutest voice. ‘Oppa? Buy it for me pleaseee.’
“Yes yes. Your brother made it in one piece.” You huff. Mingyu going on about how his baby brother could be a handful, but had a good heart despite it.
“He’s still immature. Has some growing up to do. I think time in Seoul on his own will help him gain independence. Don’t baby him too much though alright?” Mingyu rambles. Making you squirm in your seat with the constant reminder that Sunghoon’s younger. Immature.. has a lot to learn.
“I think he’s more mature than you’re letting on.” You say. Maybe it’s a sense of maturity Mingyu wouldn’t understand.. one that you had only come to understand recently yourself.
“Ah, he’s a charmer right?” Mingyu snickers. Scoffing under his breath. “Don’t let that perfect smile fool you! He’s an imbecile, I’m serious. Surprised he even got into Seoul University. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all proud. Surprised though.”
“You’re an imbecile.” You jest, laughing at the sound of offense playing through your phone. “It takes one to know one, ya know? We have to get back on the road. Traffic is finally dying down.”
You and Mingyu begin your goodbyes. Was he always this impossible to get off the phone? An imbecile, truly.
“Alright alright.” Mingyu chuckles. “Thank you again for helping Hoon out like this, yea? Really owe you one. I’ll have to visit soon, take you out for dinner.”
“Yea yea yea. I’ll believe it when I see you picking up the check before I can even steal a look.” Your eyes roll. Ready to remind Mingyu he still owes you $10. “Anyway. Talk soon okay? Take care of yourself.”
Hanging up, you toss your phone down. Pulling your seatbelt back on with a shimmy back into your seat. Better to have not strung along conversation further. Mingyu could really talk your ear off if you’d let him.
“Oppa?” Sunghoon startles you with the raised question.
“Huh?” You blink your attention back to him with confusion.
“You called Mingyu.. Oppa…” Sunghoon shrugs. “Haven’t heard that in awhile s’all.”
“I did? Oh, ahh. Old habits die hard I guess.” You send him back a shrug. Refocusing on the GPS to get you home. Currently rerouting to find the best way around traffic.
“It’s interesting that you ever called him that to begin with.” Sunghoon continues. His tone carrying no real emotion despite whatever was going on in his head. “You’re only a few months younger than him, right?”
“Well, yea.” You reply uninterested. Watching yourself back-up through the rearview mirror. Speeding off faster than you should through a residential neighborhood. Your fingers drum over the steering wheel, pursing your lips in thought. “Mingyu used to ask me to. Something about how it made him feel ‘cool’ when other people heard it.”
Sunghoon hums, reaching across the gap between your seats. Thumb falling into caressing strokes over your knee. Gaining a surprised small jolt from you in reaction. His brow quirks, turning to face you.
“What if I asked you?” Sunghoon says. Still casual. Casual enough to pass as a silly joke. Even fooling around, Sunghoon’s demeanor never changed very much.
Gaging it as taunting you respond with a bored laugh. Rolling your eyes to the side quick enough for him to catch.
“Very funny. Sunghoonie Oppa? Is that what you want to hear?” You emphasize his name. Vocals growing in pitch, popping your lips as the honorific passes. Sunghoon’s fingers stroking your knee come to a halt. He digs in abruptly, jaw tightening. Setting a fierce lowered gaze on you. Hard enough to have you distracted at a stop sign. Annoying the driver across from you, waving angrily as they pull ahead.
“Sunghoon Oppa.” He says, more stern. Skirting up the expanse of your thigh with a squeeze.
You snort, continuing to drive around the streets. Nervously pressing on the gas harder with each sweep of fingertips along your inner thigh.
“Yea right. I’m not calling you that.”
“Say it.” Sunghoon pinches at your tender flesh with the command. Nudging his chin forward, expressing for you to go on. “Come on, indulge me a little.”
You guffaw, slapping ridiculously on the tattered leather cover protecting your wheel. He was joking, had to be joking. Sunghoon pinches again, harder this time. Thumbnail digging deep enough to leave a crescent shape behind.
“Ow!” You jump up a little, slapping his hand away quickly. “God, what’s wrong with you? That hurt.”
Sunghoon doesn’t budge. Brown irises turning cold as he wraps around your upper thigh. Landing heavily, sending a slapping sound of skin on skin throughout the car.
“Say it.” Sunghoon bites out. Groping over your leg firmly. Your back stiffens, suppressing the moan wishing to embarrass you. With a swallow you step on the brake pedal at a red light. Lowering your stare to the hand splayed over your thigh.
“Sunghoon..Oppa.”
Breath sucks through his teeth loudly. Adam’s apple bouncing with a swallow. Giving you a nod in approval as you return to driving.
Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed of yourself, or aroused. The two muddling together too often these days thanks to the Alpha.
“I like how that sounds.” Sunghoon leans back. Never releasing his hold on your leg. Gazing outside of the window at passing by buildings. Repeating the soft defeated way you’d said his name. Mouthing ‘Oppa’ to his reflection pleased.
“You have me for the next week, you know?” Sunghoon looks pleased, slumped at the corner of your couch. Calves strung over his lap as he insisted. Complaining about how your feet hurt on the way up only led to a playful argument until you caved and allowed him to run his knuckles into your soles. Massaging away any of the weeks tiresome memories.
“That I do..” you smile to hold back a wanton whimper the harder his knuckles dig circles into the bottom of your foot. “Anything you wanna do?”
“Can we check out that park down the street? I wanna get a little exercise in. I feel all tight after that long train ride.” Sunghoon suggests. Offering even to drive so you can relax a bit.
You’d expected the Alpha to spark an idea to shower, try the rooftop jacuzzi, anything to get you in less clothes. Surprised he would rather do something active that didn’t require much touching.
The park wasn’t very busy when you arrived. Late enough for younger kids to already have headed home, but early enough for teens to still hang around at tables. Recalling the days that it was you and Mingyu. Sneaking out until sunrise just to feel free, away from any parental rules.
Sunghoon passes by you like a gust of hot air. He was always warm, maybe too warm in comparison to how you felt. Noting the chill summer wind, strong enough to make every hair on your arm stand.
“Wanna try playing me?” He grins, spinning a ball between his hands expertly. You huff a laugh.
“I’m really bad at basketball, you know that right?” You express wearily. Eyeing the way Sunghoon’s shirt clings to his back muscles. Sweat drenching down the center bringing the light defined shoulder blades. Why was he already so sweaty?
“I’ll go easy on you.” He winks, bending down in search for one of the waters you’d packed. Throat parched since the route up to Seoul. Sunghoon asking you to throw in some extras because he’d been extra thirsty.
You probably should have paid better attention. Gaze stuck on his shorts riding up, thighs squishing as he squats. Planning on how to pants him when he shoots as you eye over how perky and round his butt looks.
He turns standing up fast interrupting your thoughts. Full brows knitted together appearing frustrated.
“You’re still using suppressants?” Sunghoon’s scowl deepens. The foiled packet of pills wrinkles between his fingers. Veins trailing his inner wrist pulsate at rapid speed.
“Sunghoon, don’t start.” You try to snatch them away. His palm slaps over your forearm pausing your attempt. Fingers burning where they land. His skin feels bubbling hot against yours. The wave of fire sparking from his grip powerful enough to turn you into a pile of ashes. “You’re..you’re burning up..”
His eyes drag up, deep brown hidden by an electric red. Your throat hitches, breathing out a silent gasp in panic. Sunghoon’s rut finally snapped.
“Alpha, you.. your rut. You didn’t tell me!”
He hauls your weight forward, colliding into his chest. Ignoring your accusation. Snarling and throwing the pills aside. “I told you to stop using those.”
“Alpha, I have to. You’re not always here..” you struggle a bit. Rapidly turning uncomfortably hot.
“I’m here now.” He snaps. Hands suddenly all over your waist, trailing to your ass. Back up to your arms. Urgently needing to latch his scent all over you. “I’m never leaving your side again.”
“Hoon..Sunghoon..Oppa.” You start to stutter, lowering your tone. Weakened by every burning graze of skin.
The Alphas eyes flicker bright red excitedly. Circling your waist until you’re flushed flat together.
“We can’t Alpha. Not here.” You’re already far gone. Sunghoon’s scent intensifying under the claim of rut. Slamming your chest to dive in, split open at the seams, penetrated by every inch of the Alpha.
“Shh shhh.” Sunghoon pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Training your hazed gaze on him. The sweat dripping down planes of his face catch your focus. Licking your lips in hopes of a taste.
He makes you walk backward until the backs of your thighs meet cool metal. Warming up as soon as your flesh rests there.
“Now now, would Oppa ever do anything to make you uncomfortable?” Sunghoon tuts, nudging the tip of his nose to your forehead.
“Mmm..” you let out more of a whine than you wanted to. Clear consciousness long gone, letting him nod your head in agreement. Sunghoon gives the small park a quick once over, it’s relatively empty, spare a few teens probably hiding in the bushes up to no good.
“No one will see us. Listen to Oppa, and everything will be okay. Can you do that?” He’s whispering, slowly enunciating everything with a cuter tone. Opposite to the grip digging into your ass. A smack follows, nudging his chin up. “Better we hide. Get up there baby, I’ll take care of you.”
Hesitating for less than a second, you climb up the few bars intended for children to use. Sunghoon’s palms encourage you to move faster, pushing your ass up until you land on the metal playground. With a look around you note how dark it is now. Nightfall leaves the park emptied, nothing much but sound of light breeze surrounding you.
“See? I told you, always trust Oppa.” Sunghoon places you on his lap. Hauling your hips to straddle him. Licking at the seam of your lips for an entrance. He cripples you with needy kisses. Nipping at your lower lip when you trap his tongue with a suck.
“Let’s play another game. One I know you’re better at.” His grins laced with deviant intent. Flattened palm on your chest pushing you down until your back lays flat on the metal flooring. Sunghoon tugs the straps of your tank top down, pleased to find no bra in the way. Swirling his tongue around your nipple with a fixated gaze.
“Every part of you tastes so good.” He sucks on your hardened bud. Biting your areola hard enough to leave marks. Payback.
The breeze traveling by aiding in the goosebumps unraveling on your chest. Waist sinking forward to catch more of his sucking lips.
“Alpha..” you whimper. Cheeks heated up enough to melt tears from your eyes. Twisting your brows together frustrated. Sunghoon cups your mound over your shorts. Thumb pressing between your folds.
“Say it.” He repeats, exactly as he had earlier.
“..Oppa” you start nervously, writhing into his palm. “Want you inside please please.”
“Where do you want Oppa? Tell me where. Tell Oppa exactly where you want him.” He retorts dumbly. Sucking your nipple with a rough pull until you croon.
“Want Oppa…in my pussy, please?” You wail, ending in tears. So embarrassed and turned on you can’t differentiate the two any longer.
Sunghoon’s smirk widens. Landing a slap between your thighs before moving back enough to strip your bottoms off. Tossing them away, ending up at the top of a slide. He reaches for his sweats pushing them just above his knees. Wrapping a fist around his cock with a smooth stroke. Tip thick and shiny with precum. Cunt burning at the visual, stretching legs apart further to entice him in.
Sunghoon’s Alpha takes over, fucking into you with one quick thrust. Moans hitching in your throats from the sudden sensation. Girthy cock pulsing between your sleek coated walls. “You’re so fucking wet already, oh my God.”
Sunghoon’s mouth hangs open in ‘O’. Digging fingers into your hips, he starts off rough, fucking hard right off. He’s big, too big, ripping open your walls with each wet dip of his length.
“Wet for you, want you s-so much. Alpha, fuck me! Fuck me until I pass out, please.” Your voice cracks in plea. Tears welling up and spilling freely. Having to blink away the blur that Sunghoon’s frame has become the more rapidly he moves.
His throat tightens, forcing past your clenched heat. Your requests hitting his ear drums like a strike of lightning. Ramming deeper to ensure giving you what you want.
You look debauched, eyes and lips swollen. Cheeks puffy with heat, stained by agonizing pleasured tears. Voice cracking from moaned screams, dry breaths you can’t find between the Alphas jackhammering lower half.
Sunghoon’s hips jerk to a stop, catching a light sound of keys jangling. Doe eyes squinting as he tries to pick up footsteps. Noisy leaves and grass crunching closer and closer. His palm traps the moans singing from your lips. Flattening over the bottom half of your face.
He leans in, shoving a finger over his lips to press against the back of his hand. “You have to be quiet, we’ll get caught. Be quiet for me? For Oppa?” He whispers. Swiveling his hips slowly, cock snagging on a sweet spot deep inside you.
Your cries end muffled, tears streaking down to your sweat drenched hair. Loose neck dropping your head back to hit the metal playground. Sunghoon cursing, shushing you again. Driving you mad with slow thrusts, hollowing out a space for his cock.
Sunghoon’s teeth tug in his lips, fighting back growls. Ravishing in the drool forming under his palm. The way your eyes expand, blinking away tears clumping your eyelashes together. Desperately clawing at his ribs for some purchase. Grinding between your folds maddeningly until he hears nothing. Nothing but crickets and birds flying by. Nothing but your anguished trapped squirming pleasured moans.
He smears your spit over your cheeks upon releasing you. Too busy gasping for air to fill your chest to care. Coughing and shaking as thrusts return to a demanding pace.
“Good Omega, fuck baby, you’re so good listening to me like that.” He utters, quickly rewarding you with loving pecks. Sweet and caring, doting like a good Alpha ready to go to war for his mate. Thinking about it erupts tremors up your back. Shivering until your lips tremble between each kiss.
“Whose my baby? Hmm?“ Sunghoon asks with a pointed thrust. Fucking hard, pulling a whimper from your gut with a particularly sharp jabbing roll of his hips.
“M-me.” You cough, smiling through the endless fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Sunghoon knocking you breathless pumping deep inside. Full, too full and cock drunk to process much anymore.
“Know how much you love my cock baby. The way you gawked when I got on camera.” Sunghoon breathily rants, mostly to himself. Drilling into your sopping pussy impossibly fast. Fucking hard enough to jerk your body up the metal structure little by little. Having to dig your nails into the dip of his waist for some control. “So fucking desperate for me. Desperate to get fucked. Like a good little Omega slut.”
“Alpha!” You shout, pleasure building faster, hitting a new high. Bruises bloom on your pelvis with every colliding press. Sunghoon reaches for your shoulders, somehow tugging you closer. Cock hitting at an insane new angle that makes your toes curl in.
“Yea, cum around my cock baby. Cum for me sweet angel. My pretty fucking baby.” He stammers. Cock throbbing, feeling each inch bury in and out. Stretching your walls painfully full. “Fuck my knot into you?” He’s asking, not expecting much of a response. The way your head bounces, hung loose like a lifeless doll indication enough.
The first push at your hole has you squirming back. Hissing, blinking urgently, pulling him closer as best you can despite your bodies initial protest.
“Al-Alpha!” You gurgle, coughing more. Sunghoon hiking your calves onto his shoulders. Bending you in half to find a perfect angle. Knot expanding your hole open with faster with never ending thrusts.
Sunghoon’s sweating heavily, dripping from his chin to your face mixing in with your tears. Panting and huffing like a beast setting your face aflame. Cock punching through your insides with every jostle.
“I’m..Oppa, ah! I’m..” you’re cut off, breaking into a whiny sob. Arching under Sunghoon’s pressing weight, convulsing painfully around the Alphas knot as you cum. Shooting slick between your bodies. Sunghoon grabs his shirt, pulling it away to watch the wetness pool in your belly button. Groaning with a gut stirring roll of his hips.
“You’re so fucking full.” Brown eyes flicker deep red watching the way the tip of his cock protrudes under your navel. Gleaming puddle of slick trembling like the beginning of some horror movie after each thrust.
“Fucking incredible.” He gasps, hips stuttering. Balls emptied, knot lodging him in place to slow down. Cock pulsing in the aftermath, spent enough to cool his heightened arousal.
“So perfect for me.” Sunghoon repeats this often. Knowing your Omega needs reassurance of doing a good job satisfying your Alpha. Lowering your legs with a soothing rub to your hips until you’re moaning.
He sits up, cock nudging inside making you hiss. Softly cleaning off your face, stroking hair away from your eyes and cheeks. He blows over your slowly drying tears. “So pretty and good for Oppa. The best Omega, all I ever need.”
You’re elated from the caresses, airy kisses faintly painting your cheeks and jaw. Sunghoon’s praises continue until your sobs quell. Transitioning to light sniffles and huffs of breath.
“I’m cold Oppa.” You shiver, hiding deeper inside Sunghoon’s larger frame. Meaty arms encase you protectively, rubbing up and down until you warm up.
Sunghoon helps you into his t-shirt. Risking the night chill to your car to ensure you’re comfortable. “My poor baby, let's go home.”
The Alpha calms enough to drive the few blocks back to your place. Carrying you to your bedroom fast. Practically forgetting to lock your front door in a rush to get you impaled on his length again.
“Alpha..”
“You’ve been so good for me baby. So lucky, finally having a taste of you.” Sunghoon lays you down. Ripping his t-shirt from your frame in a record speed as he kicks off his sweats.
He’s on you in seconds. Draping your thighs on his shoulders until your spine rounds, ass lifted up. Kissing against your core like he knows it hurts. Fucked until you bruised and ached for him, swollen to a painful point.
“Prettiest pussy.” Sunghoon mumbles, soothing your thighs with caresses. “Best I’ve ever had.”
His tongue rolls around your clit, stopping to suck softly. Flicking the tip light enough to burn, making you hiss from the overstimulation.
He’s tender, licking between your folds meticulously. Nothing too rough, savoring the way slick audibly drops from your hole. Gliding lower, his chin grazes your entrance, catching on the way. Lips purse together sucking remnants of his cum from your hole.
He swallows it down, tongue breaching through to pick up anything left behind. Intent to fuck you full of cum until it spills from every hole. Covering every inch of skin in nothing but the Alphas seed until you’re sticky and crying, begging him to stop.
His tongue begins to thrust, groaning vibrations as you squeeze around him. Cunt convulsing needily despite the stinging burn. With a slap to your thigh, Sunghoon sinks in faster. Jaw hinging and cracking from the pressure.
Drawing free he gasps for air, taking in your fucked out mindless appearance hungrily. Slick dripping off his chin landing over his chest like a waterfall.
“Still so wet for me.” He babbles, kisses up from your entrance to your clit. Slurping up slick with his pouting abused lips. “Tight little pussy, all mine. Just for me.”
“Uh-huh..” you try to respond. Voice broken, throat itching between syllables. Sunghoon swooping lower nibbling at your rim has you arching, releasing a gust of air in shock.
“Make you cum again.” He laps and kisses your rim, teasing with just the tip of his tongue. Shaking your thighs in his grip until they clap around his face. “Love every part of you so much.”
He dives back in, slipping the wet muscle inside your ass with ease. Wiggling through past resistance, he groans, eyes rolling up. It’s mind numbing, a heat of humiliation surging through your gut. Diverted away quickly by a thumb pressing down on your clit.
Sunghoon grunts, rubbing your folds side to side messily. Tongue straining inside your ass fighting for dominance until you relax. He keeps a consistent pressure on your clit, relieving you only to smack your pussy. Thrusting in your ass faster, deeper. Nose snagging on your entrance with each dip forward.
“Fuck! Al-Alpha fuck fuck!” You cry, grinding on his tongue. Ass riding the face bouncing between your thighs. “I’m—I—I’m cu-..”
A shout rips out, tossing your head back, slick spouting aggressively from your core. Sunghoon quick to hold you open against your urge to curl in. His face turns side to side with a hung open mouth. Squirt puddling on his tongue, trickling down his throat through your intense climax.
Everything feels good, too good. Nerves electric under each of his calculated movements. Figuring out how to make you shake into a pile of aroused despair.
Sunghoon lowers your legs, hard cock so hot as it glides over your mound. Making you sob and recoil, telling him you can’t with a shake of your head.
“I know, baby.” He grits between teeth. Cock swiping up and down coating in thick amounts of slick. Sunghoon reaches lower, circling fingertips over your puckered rim. Prodding a way in, finding no challenge after eating you out. “Pretty pussy can only take so much.”
You quietly hum, gasping as slick covered bulbous cockhead taps your rim.
“Give your Alpha everything..” his neck bends back, penetrating the suffocatingly tight muscle. Slick gathers around, pushed off his length inch by inch. Guttural groans fall from Sunghoon’s mouth. The veins on his neck burst as he pauses half-way inside.
“Ah fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Too tight for me.”
It’s filthy, animalistic. Sunghoon fucking an obscene sound of wetness gliding into the hilt. Slick bubbling out around his size. Hips roll down, stirring his cock inside, relishing in the death grip milking him.
“F-fuck.” He stutters. Finally cracking despite insatiable need to fuck for hours. Momentarily pacified by the new sensation wrapping around him. “So good taking all of me like this. Such a good Omega. Like how it feels deep in that ass baby? Tell me, tell Oppa how good it feels.”
He’s messy at first, almost slipping out as his hips lift back. Over eagerly thrusting back in making you bounce into him with powerful thrusts. Harder and faster, deeper and deeper.
“Unnngghhh..ye..yes-th” your head reels. Lost to the sound of the Alphas lewd words blending with the noisy sound of skin on skin. Balls clapping loudly with each land.
Your rim tightens up, too boneless to react much beyond a throat ripping shout as another orgasm rises. Sunghoon bends in closer, bracketing your head allowing him to thrust even deeper. Hips angled devilishly, filling your hole up maniacally.
“Want my cum in your ass baby?” He pants into your mouth. Thrusts building, fucking into you even smoother. Sleek coated cock sliding between your ass cheeks with no defiance. Slick squishes out of your core, dripping down past his full sack. Clapping against your lower back faster with rapid chase for release.
You nod, mouthing a ‘yes’, you think. Blanking out too much to fathom any type of response.
Sunghoon pulls your legs around his back, your ankles knocking together under the force behind each thrust. Hole splitting open around his throbbing mass mercilessly fucking in and out. In and out until you’re reaching euphoric high.
“There! Right there! Alpha!!” You scream, arching against his weight. Hips dig into your ass ferociously. Sunghoon’s carnal need fucking you at an inhumane pace. Every one of his muscles fatigued, stiffly flexed and dripping with sweat.
“Yea? Love how I claim all your holes.” He mumbles. Breath unsteady, pressing your sweating bodies together fiercely. “Fuck you like you’re only mine. Until all you think about is your Alphas cock keeping you full.”
His cock never falters, ramming in full of power. Your mouth open and shutting, imagining words to reply with. All muddled and lost to the Alpha fucking you inside out.
Sunghoon cups your cheeks, shaking you enough until you look at him. Veins bulge from the sides of his forehead. Thrusts growing sloppy, his lips pull back in a painful stretch. Gritting out how good you feel, how much he loves everything about you. Lips smash into yours, stealing your breath. Capturing the scream threatening to escape.
Jerking wildly the Alphas hips jolt to a stop. Chest caving, blacking out as the toughest orgasm rushes through him spine to balls. Spilling copious amounts of seed, enough to find a way out. Dribbling around his softening length down to your lower back. A mess of cum all over the bed combining with sweat and slick.
The entire room reeks of sex, love, humid like a 110 degree summer day. Scent seeping into your walls for weeks to come.
His forehead knocks into yours. Damp skin rubbing together roughly. Making you both wrinkle your eyes shut attempting to inhale some air. Sunghoon adjusting his weight off to the side on a propped forearm. Cock jostling but staying locked inside of you. Waiting until you fully relax to avoid whining and hurting your feelings with the thought that your Alpha would wish to be anywhere else.
“Can’t c-can’t move Alpha.” You whimper, trying to grasp at your bed sheets. Fingertips numb to the touch. Sunghoon coos, kissing and licking your face clean like a pup in love.
“Don’t move baby, Oppa will take care of you.” He mumbles between gentle pecks, nuzzling the tip of your nose with the lightest brush of his. “Rest a bit. I’ll get you fed and run you a bath. Anything for my perfect Omega.”
Your eyes flutter open some hours later to the sound of knocking paired with your doorbell ringing. Throat attempting to clear away some of the dryness from overuse. Sunghoon holds your shoulder down before you can move.
“I ordered food.” He sounds groggy. Doe eyes swollen from the nap. He yawns, pecking up your cheek with a smile. “I’ll get it. You grab the plates?”
“Mmm, food.” Your stomach rumbles at the thought, nodding and hissing as you try to sit up. Soreness radiates throughout your limbs. More tender than usual with Sunghoon massaging your hips and thighs while you slept.
“Take your time.” He winks, hobbling into a pair of boxers on his way out.
Limping out of your room after him, Sunghoon’s broad back looks too enticing. Coming to wrap around behind him as he opens the front door. Your chin finds rest on his shoulder, sounding warmed and pleased. The mundane sweet moment shattered by a deep awestruck pitch.
“Sunghoon?!”
“Hyung?!”
“Mingyu!” Your pleased expression drops. Blood draining from your face meeting your best friends shocked bulging eyes.
〔 𝒾 〕 Your best friend told you her brother was off limits years ago, and that should have been the end of it. But feelings, especially reciprocated ones, don't die, not when you're going to be in close proximity for a week.
𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 11.7K ⋮ 18+ ⋮
angst, fluff, smut, best friend's (younger) brother!jake, forbidden attraction au, college au, alcohol use, feat! heeseung, dry humping, clit play, body worship, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie
ᯤ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈: new emotion — the aces, do you think about me — lahar, boys like you — who is fancy, starving — hailee steinfeld, butterfly rain — tori templet, i'm not in love — emily james, dive — ed sheeran, ready set go — bnza, shooting star — muna, say it again —frances
⌗ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── Nobody ever really does female best friend's sibling and I wanted to for this because Jake is clearly my muse and I'm obsessed, so here we go! Bless all my friends who read the story before its release— @tinycatharsis, @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @xomakara @aeristudios @hannieoftheyear and @frenchkisstheabyss—because they kept me going to post it! I love you all so much, thank you. I hope you guys enjoy!
There are two things you are certain of in this life. Sim Jaemin, Jamie to those who know her best, will always be your dearest friend, and she is relentless in getting what she wants.
Jamie pushed herself to learn tennis all on her own at nine, simply because she found Serena Williams incredibly attractive wielding a racket like a sword. She decided in middle school to make you her best friend, even as she was an opinionated, bouncy thirteen-year-old that made you, a girl who still hid behind her lunchbox, feel intimidated to no end. She convinced her parents to take in the neighbor's dog at sixteen when the old couple decided to leave the beautiful pup behind. "Layla is too cute to just go to anyone!" The pout she threw, perfectly curved with the cupid's bow of an angel, made every single person in the family cave without another word. Jake needed little persuasion; her little brother was always fond of animals. Still is.
Then, she got older, and more reasonable demands came to the forefront.
"I don't want you ruining our friendship by liking my brother." When she said this on the verge of your first year of university, it was the furthest thing from your mind. Tuition paperwork, scholarship applications, and the freshman fifteen was all you could focus on back then. Even as you watched Jake, on the tail-end of junior year, swim a few laps in the family's pool.
"One, he's too young for me. Two, you're worth more than a crush, as if I had one." Your arguments convinced her because it was true. You did not like Sim Jaeyun. You would barely look his way if he didn't have familial ties he shared with your best friend, although he was always friendly and funny to you. Yet, that was the intention: a younger brother, annoying, yet well-behaved.
He crosses your mind now and then, some photos he shares with Jamie popping up on your feed when she goes to her parents for visits without you, leaving you behind in your shared dorm room to doomscroll and avoid the problems awaiting at home. She's beautiful, bright, magnanimous in personality.
It's no coincidence her brother shares the same level of allure.
Now, he lingers on your mind as your hands clench the steering wheel. You and Jamie always went home for spring break, tradition the strongest facet of the Sim family. As Jake is also on his way home for his first spring break since starting college, his soccer scholarship keeping him plenty busy, you wonder how the dynamic between all of you—three full-fledged adults—will change. You're not much older than each other. Two years separate you girls from the only boy in the Sim household, but Jamie has always been smaller than her brother; the youngest sprouted like a tree when he reached high school. You, you're just short because of the universe's sarcastic design.
"Are you even listening? I'm baring my soul here about Chungha and you're too busy lost in thought!" Jamie cries, throwing an arm over her eyes for a dramatic flare.
You chuckle. "I'm actually too busy driving the car, asshole," you note with a quirked eyebrow. "Anyway, I thought your broken heart was because of Seungcheol."
"That was two months ago! This is now! She was supposed to Facetime me last night about her plans for the break, but never did. She hates me now, it's official."
Just because Jamie is headstrong doesn't mean she's prone to being realistic.
You sigh. "Her phone probably died. And we left pretty early this morning. I bet she'll text you as soon as she gets up today."
She nods, whining but agreeing. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd have lost my head by now."
Laughing, you make another turn. The street the Sim family house resides on comes into clear view, birch trees and tulip bushes welcoming you like an old friend coming back from a long trip off to faraway lands. You breathe easy, already feeling more at home here than anywhere else, including your parent's place twenty minutes away.
You always tell them you're too busy to visit, even during the occasional weekend off from exams and term papers. It's too hard to watch them bicker and pick you apart like they've done since you were small. At Jamie's, with her parents and Jake, you don't feel like an outsider intruding with every eggshell you stumble upon. You're safe, content, fearless.
When you see her parents at the front door, ready to welcome you both with warm hugs, you're reminded of the peace they provide. There's no need to act formal, not anymore. Not when they've seen you through all of your formative years with more kindness than your own family has ever provided.
"There they are!" Jamie's dad, Yongjin, exclaims. He pulls Jamie into a bear hug as Jihyun, her mother, wraps her arms around you.
You drop your bags on the doorstep, embracing Jihyun fully. She smells like rosemary and plum, with hints of book pages. No other scent can replicate it. "Let me look at you," she says as she plants both hands on either side of your face. "Have you been eating? You look pale."
You nod, grinning. "Just wanted to wait until we got here to dig in. Besides, I know there's braised pork waiting for us on the counter."
Her face scrunches up as she smiles and pats your cheek. "Nothing gets past you, huh, ladybug? Let's go inside then! I know you girls are hungry."
Your old nickname used to drive you crazy. But you'll always hold a special place for it, especially when Jihyun says it with every ounce of love she possesses.
"Where's Jake, dad? Still on his way?" Jamie asks as she drops her bag in the hallway.
"He's in the pool. He actually got in last night. Practice was canceled last minute, so he came straight here." Yongjin coughs as he picks up both of your bags, heading upstairs to drop them off in your respective rooms. "Bring the rascal in for lunch, won't you?"
"Not before your daughter helps with setting out the plates!" Jihyun turns to Jamie with a smirk. Your best friend rolls her eyes but runs to the kitchen without a word of protest. Jamie may get what she wants, but she knows to follow a parental order like holy scripture.
Jihyun turns her smile on you. "Ladybug, go bring in Jake, please?"
You nod, walking toward the glass doors leading to the backyard area. You open one slowly, taking in the surrounding sunshine that bathes the pool in an ethereal glow. The spirit of the Sim house extends to every corner, including the water you've swum in a thousand times.
Before you can even call out to him, Jake's moving out of the pool and leaning down to grab his towel from the beach lounger. Once he sees you, his expression changes from intense focus to his usual softness. His shoulders slack like any pressure he was carrying disintegrates, his face contorting in the same way with a cheery grin and raised eyebrows. His wet hair swipes across his face like a mop, but you could recognize him anywhere.
A pregnant pause sits between you both, and you’re unsure why. Maybe it’s because Jake looks different from the last time you saw him that week in August, before he left with the wrecked nerves of an incoming freshman. He was scrawny, not a muscle on him except for the ones he gained from soccer—which weren't that many because of his stature—with braces that carried him through his teenage years like a backpack. Now, he’s all white teeth and chiseled abs, body confidently glistening under the rays of sunlight.
You’ve been the same appearance-wise for years, but Jake looks at you like you’ve gone through a metamorphosis only he can see. It makes your cheeks bloom a shade deeper than you're used to, but you try to brush the feeling off. It means nothing, can mean nothing.
“You’re early,” he says finally.
"Wanted to miss all the traffic," you reply, hands splayed out on your thighs. "I'd hug you, but…you know."
Jake takes that suggestion as a dare, lips pursing in a suggestive pout. He runs before you can take the hint, grabbing you between his biceps and immediately squeezing you against his wet skin as you squeal. "When has that ever stopped me, ladybug?"
Despite his soaked form and the small distance he puts between you both when he's satisfied he's greeted you properly, he's still radiating a warmth that cuts through the decorum you thought was still necessary to use with him more than anyone else in the family. It might be the reason he's so eager to thaw it out immediately. He can recognize in that instant your nerves from being away for so long are the cause.
But there's no reason to be formal. You're still the same girl who cried trying to save the insect you're lovingly nicknamed after during a thunderstorm. You've detested the bleak weather ever since, and sometimes the term of endearment too, and he knows that.
He knows so many things about you, more than you want to admit.
"C'mon kiddos, the food's getting cold!" Jake's dad calls from inside the house, and Jake immediately takes the cue to jog inside, leaving you standing there, slightly damp and confused.
He turns back at the archway of the glass doors, a smile framing his face. You turn just as he asks, "You coming?"
This break may be harder than you expected it to be.
You throw stones from the garden floor and across the lush field in front of you, tears streaming down your face as the sun blares above. It's too bright today for how terrible your heartbreak feels.
Almost 500 miles between two universities was enough for Taeyong to call it quits. As if a year of dating didn't matter in that instant when your ex had to come face to face with the unknown. You were willing to brave it, to see if your love could survive long-distance, but he obviously wasn't. "Be realistic," he said a few hours ago, feigning false pain.
You couldn't bear to stay in your own house, your parents' judgemental eyes staring you down in a way that made you keep all your anguish inside. A trip over the fence to the Sim house wasn't a tough feat when everything else felt insurmountable.
And there you are, sitting near Jamie's mother's prize roses and hating everything they represent. Love, passion, desire. It's all for show; none of it is true when the harsh realities come around the corner. Taeyong and your parents proved that.
Out of the blue, Jaeyun appears in soccer attire not meant for JV players. You hide your face from him in that second, trying to avoid the mirage of questions he'll throw at you if he sees your red-rimmed eyes. "Climbed over again, huh?" he asks, a joke you can't take interjected in his voice.
You nod, shoulders steeled and windpipe tight. "Didn't feel like staying home right now. Gonna tell me to go back?"
Jake raises his arms in defense. "No, I mean—I don't mind. Would've seen you later, anyway." He moves to sit next to you, crossing his legs in the dirt and splaying his arms behind his back.
"You're home late," you realize. The sunset brews under the clouds, seven o'clock a few minutes away.
Jake chuckles again, the sound light and unbelieving. "I was actually trying out for varsity," he confesses. "I got it."
You wipe your subsequent tears away, focusing on your friend and his achievement. He's always wanted to play with the bigger guys at school, and you won't let such success go understated. "That's amazing! Does Jamie know yet?"
He shakes his head, blushing suddenly. "You're the first person I've told."
"Wow," you say. "Sim Jaeyun, soccer prodigy, letting me be the first to know? I'm honored."
He knocks your shoulder with his own, saying nothing verbally. His smile says enough. "Gonna tell me what's bothering you now?"
You sigh, the sadness bubbling back up. "Taeyong dumped me. Said going to schools so far away from each other is too much to handle." You throw another rock, anger suddenly replacing the misery you walked into the garden with. "Fuck him."
"Yeah. He doesn't know a good thing when he has it." Jake says it like he's afraid it'll mean more than what it does on the surface, his voice low and tentative. Is it out of his depth to say something like that to you, his older sister's best friend? He doesn't know, but it felt right to say.
You laugh sadly and run your fingers through the grass. "I just gotta move forward. Spend the summer focused on me, you know?"
Jake nods and knocks his shoulder into yours once again. "Come on, let's take a dip in the pool. It always makes you feel better." He motions to the house behind him. "Go borrow one of Jamie's swimsuits, yeah?"
You grin at his suggestion. He always makes the worst times better somehow, a ray of sunshine that isn't blinding to the eye. It's welcoming and soothing, a salve on a day you thought was hopeless. "Sure."
As you head upstairs, Jake's mom smiling at you both as you run past the kitchen, you think about the way you can float with all of them rather than sink.
The memory washes over you as you stare at the same patch of grass from that day, reminiscent with a smile on your face, thankful nobody can see it under the cover of night.
"Earth to my best friend! There's tequila that's going to waste over here," Jamie says as she hands you another shot. She's careful to avoid dropping it into the pool thanks to the mirage of garden lights around your spot. The both of you sit on the edge with your toes in the water, teasing the idea of slipping in with the two boys already wading around in the water. "Chungha ghosted me and I need your unwavering support right now."
"It'll never go to waste on you, JJ," Heeseung, Jake's best friend, flirts with Jamie as he floats past you both. "And whoever that girl is is clearly a dipshit."
Lee Heeseung stayed local for his college experience, but he's always remained close to Jake and the Sim family in the same way you have, except he and Jake grew up together from primary school and on. And as far as Jamie goes, he'll be damned if he stops trying to get her to take a chance on him one day, despite every rejection she's delivered with a loving middle finger in his face.
Jamie kicks some water at him before downing another few ounces of liquor. "Thank you but if that's another covert shooting of your shot, no thanks, pal."
Heeseung scoffs playfully as you giggle. "Anyway, since we have an appropriate beverage for it…" he says just in time for Jake to swim over from his usual corner near the hot tub. "Let's play Never Have I Ever, shall we?"
You all roll your eyes, but you don't object. Anything to ramp up the chill session by the pool; your spring break is already too lackadaisical at this point.
"Never have I ever stolen candy from Jungwon's parents' convenience store."
All of you take the shots with ease. The poor kid always knew when you and Jamie were bagging an extra candy bar in your purse or pockets, but batting your eyelashes in his direction was enough for him to look the other way. "Boys," Jamie said once, "are too predictable."
Jake begins his turn with, "Never have I ever used my parent's car without them knowing," as he pours drinks for everyone, only for Jamie to sip hers in that instant.
She raises a hand to speak her mind, and you giggle into your shot, downing it in time before the liquid can trickle down your chin. "In my defense, Mom decided to change her mind at the last second. I just stuck to the original promise she made." She turns to you. "When did you hijack yours?"
"One time when I wanted to go to Taeyong's house. I was back the next morning before they could realize it was gone."
"Asshole," Jamie and Jake mutter simultaneously, to which Jamie poses the question to her brother, "What would you know about him besides his stats, dipshit? And you're the one who played on the same team as him, like a traitor."
"Not at the same time!" Jake yells, offended. "Besides, even if we did, I would've never passed the ball to that douchebag."
Heeseung chuckles. The sound holds some type of knowledge neither you nor Jamie are privy to, but Jake looks at his friend with a death stare. You want to dissect the interaction further, but you guys pass over questions and drinks quickly after that. The tequila blurs your inhibitions as you fall into more teasing banter and laughter. Finally, your trip is getting fun.
"Alright, my turn again," Heeseung says. He pours another set of shots before he declares, "Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this circle."
The posed statement sinks into your gut like a stone; any chance of excitement for the night is gone. Your buzz disappears as soon as the last word falls from Heeseung's lips.
He immediately gulps down his drink, smiling the whole time. "Oh shoot," he says with his devious smirk pointed in Jamie's direction. "Sorry, love."
"Still never gonna happen, pipsqueak," Jamie responds with a slur, the edges of her statement warbled by the alcohol.
What you don't expect is for Jake to take his shot at the same time you do. You both stare at each other over the rims of the tiny glasses. Your faces turn crimson, a mutual understanding passing by in a flash.
Never in your dreams did you expect Jake would also harbor a crush on you. It's been years for you, so long ago you forgot the shape of it until you were in his presence again. But the revelation he also held those emotions at some point makes the stone in your chest strengthen in size, the new information befuddling you.
When did it start? Was it around the same time as you? Does he still feel that way? You ruminate on the quick questions for only a second, knowing none of the answers matter. Jamie would've never allowed it anyway, and still wouldn't. And she's more important.
A pregnant pause lies between you and Jake, even as Heeseung sputters out a shocked laugh and Jamie drinks another shot just for fun.
"Oh damn," he says, "guess we're learning a lot about each other tonight, huh?"
"Shut up, Hee," Jake mutters. He slams the empty glass down near your thigh, and the sudden brush of his hand as he pulls back makes you tingle.
It's from the tequila, you tell yourself with bated breath. Nothing else, nothing at all.
"Yeah, shut up! 's a stupid game anyway," Jamie explains as she stands up. Her body buckles with the equilibrium change, and Jake immediately jumps from the pool to help her regain her balance. "I'm fine, Ikeu!"
That's the tell. She never uses her childhood nickname for Jake unless she's drunk. You smile to yourself and stand up as well, using the sobriety Jamie doesn't have now to help her brother.
Heeseung remains in the pool as you and Jake take Jamie upstairs to sleep it off, wading around again like a baby who hasn't upended all of their bathwater. Your best friend insists she's fine on the trek upstairs, but the way she leans into you both says otherwise.
Jake tucks the bedsheets to her chin, handling her as she thrashes around with a sequence of grumbles spilling from her lips. "Ikeu, let me go to sleep," Jamie mumbles. You laugh to yourself at the state of your best friend as she babbles nonsense. She'll be mopey and hungover tomorrow, but you'll handle that when it comes.
You close the door to her room behind you, shaking your head. "She's gonna act like a kicked puppy in the morning, I know it."
Jake laughs. "And yet she still insists she's not a lightweight. Or, at the very least, a mid-weight with how much of that bottle she drank."
You agree, nodding with a smile. Silence rushes in, the uncertainty of what to say next sitting between you both like a piece of glass you're terrified to break. Do you mention what happened just a few minutes ago in the pool, or let it go? And, more importantly, what does Jake want to do?
Jake coughs quietly, his cheeks flushed. "I should get back to Heeseung. Make sure his drunk ass doesn't drown."
You nod again, bashful. "Yeah. I gotta wash off all this chlorine, anyway."
As you both go to walk in separate directions, you heading to your room and Jake going back downstairs, your fingertips brush. It's the smallest movement, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but the spark that was ignited when he touched your thigh comes back, as all-consuming as it was then.
"See you tomorrow," Jake says over his shoulder, not turning back as he walks down the first few steps, but you can tell he's smiling. Somehow, you always know. You reply with your own acknowledgement, heart hammering as you open and close your door.
That night, you dream of his hand in yours, the liquid courage giving you the right amount of boldness to tell him you want to keep holding it for as long as you can.
"You think you'll make it out of the storm in one piece?" you ask into your phone, walking around the guest room as you listen to Jamie's frustration over the quick food run now halted by the terrible weather. The supermarket bustle muffles Jamie's voice, her words practically passing through a tin can.
"Pretty sure, but the damn car is parked too far. My parents want to wait until it settles down rather than walk into a tsunami, as if I still don't have a headache kicking my ass." You picture her rubbing her temples while she talks, exasperated but with nobody to blame but herself for last night's escapades. "Be glad you don't have to experience their terrible fruit and vegetable puns right now."
You chuckle, flicking at the dust on the windowpane. "You act as if I don't know them all by heart."
Jamie laughs too, probably nodding in the middle of the store aisle like you're right by her side. She sighs when her mother calls her away. "Mom's looking at the funny birthday cards, probably wants to show me one to give Dad next month. I gotta go."
"Alright, see you soon!"
Minutes or hours pass by in a blur, the house quiet save for the rain that patters on the rooftop above. In the instant you throw your phone on the bed after another session of endless scrolling, Jake comes into view, lingering by the doorframe. His down-turned eyes point at his feet while a pout covers the lower half of his face. When he's like this, his disposition is akin to a kid caught with cookie crumbs at the edge of his mouth. "Was that Jamie earlier?"
Was he listening? How long had he been waiting to talk to you?
"Yep," you confirm. "Still stuck in the storm. Hopefully it passes quickly." You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly chilly. The cold of the rain seeps into your skin like it knows you hate the frigid and unrelenting downpour. It plucks all your nerves to their highest frequencies. You think so, anyway.
It can't have anything to do with last night, or this moment being the first time you and Jake have talked since then. It's not like his admission changes anything between you, and your past emotions have no bearing on the present. Being awkward about it, despite your best intentions not to, solves nothing. Yet, you feel the prickle of your anxiety all the same.
Jake's eyes pinch at the corners. "Still freaked out by the weather?"
You shrug, hands clenching to your skin. "Yes and no."
Going back in your memory, you can barely recall the first time you experienced a thunderstorm as a kid outside of how it made you feel. Small, fragile, open to all the elements. It was bad enough life in your parent's home made you feel that way daily, but storms only amplified the insecurities.
That first time you experienced one in the Sim house, a ladybug glued to the glass doors downstairs as the outside world thrashed and rumbled, reminded you even the tiniest beings endure harsh conditions. And you did everything in your power that day to help ensure the creature's survival.
Maybe the nickname stuck because it fit you too well, and it hasn't gone away since for good reason.
Jake walks over, his face now tilted in your direction, and shucks his zip-up hoodie off to wrap around your shoulders. You start to speak, "You don't have to—"
"I want to," he replies, a scoff teetering on the edge in his voice. "Got a million more."
You nod, giving him a soft smile of gratitude. Stuffing your arms through the sleeves, you smell his scent on the fabric. It lingers like all the words you've stamped down. Bergamot and tangerine, with the faintest trace of sea salt.
"You're safe, ladybug." His words are so soft that the clap of thunder accompanying them almost drowns them out. But you think you could hear him even if the lightning came down right next to his face.
"I know," you say, knowing it's never been more true than right now. Yet, you feel something else resting underneath his words, an iceberg you can see past the top of. The sentence eases your mind, yet ramps up a different emotion entirely, one you haven't felt in a long time for him.
"Last night, I—"
"It's fine, Jaeyun," you insist. You shake off whatever he's about to say with a forced giggle. "We've changed. Sure, we both had little crushes on each other back then. It doesn't mean anything now."
"It doesn't?"
"I mean…why does it need to? It would be crazy, anyway. Like it could work now when it didn't then."
Jake's jaw ticks as he smiles, the action as artificial as your previous laugh. "Right. It would be crazy, wouldn't it? To think about you in that way still."
"Yeah, crazy." You don't realize he's stepped forward a few inches until you notice his body in sharper clarity. The long-sleeve Manchester United shirt with a tattered logo on the center, one of his favorites, and how it rises with every inhale and exhale. The shell necklace touching his collarbone, the one you made for him the summer before he started high school.
"So if I said I still feel the same way I did at sixteen—that it's hard not to every time I look at you—would that be crazy, too?"
Your brain becomes hollow, coherent thought and reasoning out of your reach.
The storm continues battering the house, but its strength compares little to the forces stirring in your heart. The desire to hold him close churns in your stomach like the strongest tornado known to man.
It's irrevocably wrong, so why does he still pull you in?
Jake reaches for you, hand pressing to the skin between your lower jaw and neck, and it feels too warm. It makes your body shiver, but he doesn't pull back. He just inches closer, so close his breath ghosts over your face.
His eyes speak with the pleas his mouth can't verbalize. Let me know if I should let you go now before I can't. Tell me to stop thinking about you, once and for all.
You don't stop him. Not when you take the last step to his lips, not when both of your eyes flutter closed, and not when you finally feel his mouth press to yours.
Jake tastes like cherry lip balm with traces of chlorine, a mixture that could not feel more perfect on your tongue. You want to drink it forever now that you've gotten a sip, both the act and sensation long overdue.
You move in sync. His hands find purchase on your hips as you wrap your hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. He grunts against your lips when your tongue presses to the seam of his mouth, and he lets you in eagerly. You've kissed many boys—and a handful of girls—in your life, but nothing compares to this, to Sim Jaeyun.
You're utterly fucked, the implications of your choice clear, but you don't care. It's too right to think of all the reasons it shouldn't be.
You both hear the front door below slam, the sound knocking you both away from each other like a bomb. Jake's eyes open, the irises lust-blown with a fire that mirrors the raging one in your stomach. You don't know what to say in time. The chance flickers by as the rest of the family makes it known they're back.
"Kiddos, we're home!" Jihyun calls from below. Jamie yells something about the traffic being a bitch, and both of her parents chide the profanity so loudly you and Jake chuckle discreetly.
His humor morphs back into raw vulnerability, and he kisses the spot between your eyebrows before whispering, "Meet me back here tonight, yeah? Wanna finish what we started."
You nod with a bitten lip, eager to know what he means as he exits the guest room and walks downstairs. Your heart is lurching, your palms are sweating, but you've never felt more giddy than this moment.
They should terrify you, all the consequences of your next moves that lay at your feet, but you're not scared at all. Not an ounce.
You tiptoe past Jamie's door, a smidge of regret glazing over your excitement about being alone with Jake again. Seven hours after he left you in the guest room, your need consumed you. It was all you thought about in that time flipping through magazines with Jamie and sitting next to her at dinnertime.
Your eyes couldn't help but pass over Jake's at the table when you caught him staring first. His parents were talking about cute memories of all of you, your middle school years specifically, yet your insides were on fire. You were a blaze of obscene proportions as he gazed at your figure.
Now, you're eager to see him, to have a repeat of the scene in the guest room, to know if there's more to the story that's currently unwritten.
Jake opens the door the second you raise your fist to knock on it. Your hand sits in mid-air as he stands there, a quiet smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you'd never show up."
He brings you in with a hand at your waist, and soon enough, he locks the door behind him to have both palms all over you. He tugs your lips between his teeth and kisses you like a starved man, the only salvation being your mouth and body.
Jake's an excellent kisser, holding the right amount of pressure with a level of tenderness in each touch that weakens your knees. He still smells like his lip balm, but there are traces of mouthwash this time, spearmint hitting your tongue as his muscle touches the roof of your mouth.
"I love how you taste," Jake says in between you like a confession. "I can't wait to have more of you."
You moan and squeeze his biceps between your fingers. "Nothing's stopping you, Jaeyun."
Jake tugs at your cotton shorts, wanting them off so much that he makes that want a reality. Your cotton underwear sticks to your legs, arousal drenching the insides of your thighs like another person hasn't turned you on this much solely from kissing. Maybe no one ever has, not like this. Maybe he's that good at this already, transforming you into a puddle for him alone.
Moving you to the edge of his bed, Jake makes the back of your knees knock into his comforter as he undoes his drawstring sweats and yanks his sweater up and over his head. You help him discard what you can, but you're too eager to reattach your lips to his. He can't blame you; he's caused the chasm that is your need, and he has to see it filled.
"You're beautiful, you know that right?" The question tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it, and Jake just runs his hand across your face lovingly and smiles.
"Let's not talk about who's the beautiful one here, yeah?"
He crawls atop of you, the only clothes left on both of you being his underwear and your undergarments, and it's anyone's guess if he'll take them off of you soon or will tease you to the very end. Jake sees the wet ruins of your panties and a cheshire-like grin spreads on his face. "I think I could make you come just like this with the way you're drenching my sheets, baby."
You quirk an eyebrow and rut your hips into his, your underwear brushing the outline of his pulsing cock. You can almost feel the spot that's damp on his own briefs through the fabric of your panties, positive he is also ready to be relieved of his own pent-up desires. "I could say the same to you, Jakey."
Jake grunts at the nickname, one only few people have ever used, and captures your mouth with his again. He rubs his core into yours with hard, languid strokes. Your wetness melds with the hardness of his bulge with each meeting of your hips. You run your nails down his back to prove how good it feels, even if it's just the two of you rutting against each other's clothes. It's carnal how hard and fast you both grind against each other. The two of you want nothing more than to come apart at each other's hands.
There's still the uncertainty there if it's too soon to take it to the last hurdle, with sex and your relationship, whatever that is, but that doesn't matter now. The need to have each other in any way you can drowns out the sound of your doubts and what tomorrow will bring. You can only focus on right now, the end of desire right on the horizon.
"I'm not gonna last much longer, sweetheart." Jake rubs his hands along your ribcage, fingers splayed under your breast. You grip him harder as he says the words, and he smirks as he pants. "Would you like that? Knowing you made me come untouched?"
"More than anything," you admit, his cock hitting your clit in just the right way that has you frothing at the mouth.
His tongue delves deeper into your mouth as he continues to thrust against you, precum smearing down the fabric of his underwear and making it his briefs as soaked as your panties. You're so close, the ridges of him rubbing the velvet walls of you through the materials of your underwear to make you see stars.
"That's it," he growls. "Come for me, baby. It's gonna feel so good."
Those words undo you in that second; the magic of them can't go understated. Your body shudders as you reach the peak and fall off of it in the same second. It's white hot and searing, and you let it take you down as you feel the orgasm seep into your toes.
"Come with me, Jaeyun, please?" you whisper when you have a hint of coherent thought left in you, yearning to see him unravel.
Just like his words crumbled you, yours break him. He whimpers a broken moan as he comes in his underwear, meeting his end with his massive load soaking through and dribbling down across his thighs. Your bodies' essences mix as you keep riding your highs out, and it feels too good to stop until you're too sensitive to continue.
You both sit there in a mess of sweat and cum, unsure how to address that you've both just done that together. It can't go back to the way things were before, the two of you always on a fault-line of teasing each other and living in half-measures around your emotions. How could you?
When he cleans up and lays down next to you, both of you clothed once again, you run your fingertips over the veins of his arm until you're at his shoulder blade. He watches you as your venture higher, and your face heats, suddenly bashful.
"I meant what I said earlier. You're so beautiful, it's incredibly distracting." You run your hand through the ends of Jake's sweaty hair.
"Is your form of pillow talk just compliments?" he jokes partially. "Because I could give you a dozen of those at any time."
"What's yours?" you ask, beaming at his admission.
"Besides doing that again?" You giggle at the reference until he cages you in his arms, his warmth bathing you in gold. "For starters, this."
You whisper about everything and nothing, Jake stopping occasionally to run his lips over the space of your forehead and the crown of your hair. You fall asleep that way in no time, pleased to be on the cusp of something beautiful beginning.
You don't expect to wake up to the sight of Jamie peering down at you, wide-eyed and lips in a firm line. During the night, Jake must have gone to use the bathroom and forgot to lock the door again, and you hadn't noticed.
The sight of her in front of you almost makes you forget you're still entangled with Jake like two vines, legs intertwined and your head nestled on his chest.
Jamie points to Jake's door with a trembling finger, deadly silent, before walking back out of his room.
"What the fuck?" are the first words out of Jamie's mouth. Her face grows darker in that instant, anger overtaking her. "What the actual fuck is the reason I found you up against him like that?"
"Jamie, you gotta relax, please."
"Oh, so I should relax after catching my best friend and little brother practically tonguing each other down?"
The way she emphasizes "little" could make you vomit. She acts like she witnessed you pressed up against the teenage version of him and not the adult he is now. You know she's overdramatic, but she can take it overboard too often; it's one of her fatal flaws to boot.
"Jamie, I swear it was nothing," you lie immediately. "We were just watching a movie after you passed out because we couldn't sleep, and then we must've fallen asleep together. That's all, okay?"
"You didn't do anything?" She looks over the clothes you walked into Jake's room wearing last night, not seeing anything she can speculate over, but still on edge from the scene she's just witnessed. "You swear?"
You nod without realizing. "I swear to God." Good thing you're not a religious person, or a higher power would most likely strike you down on the spot. But you'd do it again to spare Jamie of the fact you did more than your fair share of things with Jake last night.
She huffs, relieved but still agitated. "Okay. Well, just never let that happen again, please. I almost ran out of here ready to pluck my eyes from their sockets and bleach them."
You rub your arms protectively. "Would it be so bad if Jake and I did happen to like each other? See where—"
She puts a finger in between you, making a face like she will in fact vomit. "I was so ready to have Mom's hump-day pancakes and now I can't even think of drinking a glass of orange juice right now after hearing you even suggest that idea to me."
"Jamie, come on," you chide her.
"You come on! It would never work, Y/N. Be realistic!"
That's rich, you jest at her in your mind. "Why? Because he's related to you and I'm not?"
"That's the biggest reason, for sure, but you both are going to school hours away from each other and Jake is drowning in intramurals and labs half the time." She swats away her own words with manic hands. "Why are we even talking about this? It's not gonna happen ever!"
Your heart sinks, the stone that you held in your gut days ago back with a vengeance.
"Tell me you'll stop thinking about this, please."
You sigh and nod, keeping your arms crossed to guard yourself from the promise you've just made Jamie. Your best friend has clipped the beating wings of a promising future with Jake so unceremoniously, you're unsure what to do with that info now, or how you'll present the topic to Jake when he wakes up.
"You coming?" Jamie asks over her shoulder as she descends the staircase, and you're transported back to that first day you arrived at the house for the trip, Jake's mirrored words holding more hope than you realized back then. You follow behind as the seams of your heart rip the muscle in two, sadness seeping into your every pore with each step.
After you all clear your breakfasts from the table, Jamie's parents retreat to their room and Jamie takes her usual midday R&R nap. Jake steps behind you in the kitchen, the coast clear from prying eyes. Nobody's around to witness him cage you in by the sink, eager as he runs his hands up your sides. "You were gone this morning. Where'd you run off to?" he whispers into your ear, and you shiver from his proximity. You're both terrified and tantalized by what Jake does to your body by doing nothing substantial. Just the subtlest act unwinds you.
He makes it difficult to resist him, but you replay your discussion with Jamie from a few brief hours ago in your head. The act helps you solidify your promise in your heart like iron, no matter how much you want to melt into Jake's embrace and forget it all.
"We can't do this, Jaeyun."
"We're not doing anything…not yet."
The second Jake's lips brush your neck, you skitter away and drop your plate in the sink. If he keeps touching you, you'll crumble without another thought, so keeping him at an arm's length is the only option. "I mean it. Last night can't happen again."
"So what? It just meant nothing?" Jake laughs in disbelief, almost like he's waiting for the punchline of the joke you're making just to get a rise out of him.
You frown and bite the inside of your cheek. "I never said that."
"Then what are you saying right now?"
"I'm saying it won't work," you parrot Jamie's words to him, trying to find some objectivity there to stop feeling like you're chewing glass. "Where do you think we will go after this? Long-distance dating back and forth between two colleges? And that's if Jamie doesn't kill us before we get to that point."
"Is that what this is about?" Jake tries to step closer, but you back away in time. "Y/N, I'm not Taeyong. And you're more than just Jamie's best friend to me. I thought I proved that to you yesterday."
He did, in so many little ways that you barely see him like he's Jamie's little brother now. He's just Jake, solid and sweet and so within your reach right now. Yet you can't have him, the fallout from such a choice too catastrophic to verbalize.
"Jaeyun, we have to be realistic." The words feel like toxic waste on your tongue, the pain present under your skin but well-hidden behind your willpower. You can only pray he believes everything you've said up to this point, but a small part hopes he doesn't. That he'll see through it and brave the storm for the both of you.
Unfortunately, the former occurs as Jake's eyes go cold, his jaw sets into sharp lines and his hands go limp at his sides. "Realistic?"
"Yes."
He doesn't fight back or spew insults he's well within his rights to say to you. All he does is walk out of the kitchen with hard stomps. The silence is worse than any profane exclamation he could've thrown out, and that's when you know you've broken your own heart by breaking his.
Jake isn't yours, so why is it so torturous to watch him mingle with another girl, especially one he knows as well as he knows you?
Aria Song, a local veterinary technician and Jake's high school ex-girlfriend, haunts you like a phantom as she wades in the pool like she's always belonged there.
"Jaeyun, stop it!" You hear her squeal, and you want to dunk her head so deep in the water you forget she exists.
Layla tucks her head in your lap as you watch Jake and Aria through the glass doors. He's swimming around his ex-girlfriend's pool lounger like he has no cares in the world. She kicks water at him with her toned legs and a wide grin on her face.
She may be nice enough for Jake to have remained friendly with her since their high school days, but you've not liked her one bit since they broke up and neither has Jamie. But Aria's solid proof to Jamie that you're not chasing after her brother, and therefore she's content to relax by the pool outside and suffer through the younger folks giggling and splashing each other like they're teenagers again.
You couldn't, not without your heart cracking even more than it already has. You thought feigning a stomach bug and deciding to rot on the couch was the best second option, but it only meant you had a semi-adequate front-row seat to Jake's little show that's been going on all afternoon.
He glances at you now and then beyond the panes of glass like he knows you're judging. Like he wants you to be envious of Aria's position.
The worst part is that you are; you're sick with jealousy to the point it's creating bile in the back of your throat. The green monster inside of you rears its head with gnashing teeth and cruel thoughts, and you don't stop it from growing in size.
She's younger, prettier, not intricately tied to his older sister the way you are. It's so much easier for him to not bother with you, to pick a safer option that isn't riddled with roadblocks. And he's clear he's chosen from the way he fawns over his guest with intense eyes.
Layla nuzzles your side as you grimace, stopping you from attempting to burn a hole in the pool attendees' heads with your stare. "I'm being ridiculous aren't I, girly girl?"
You take the tilt of Layla's head as confirmation you're acting crazy. You're about to take your blanket and pillow back up to the guest room when Jake walks into the house, body sopping wet and creating tiny puddles on the tile.
"You're gonna have to mop up the floor," you say to break the ice, despite being irritated with him for consorting with a perceived enemy.
Jake only nods and moves to the kitchen without another look in your direction, grabbing two water bottles from the fridge and then slamming it shut.
Before he leaves, he walks over and presses one of the plastic bottles in your palm, fingertips brushing yours. "Hydration will help with the stomachache."
With that, he leaves out the back door. Now, you're more confused than annoyed. What does it mean, one minute unable to speak to you and then caring for your wellbeing the next? It's a cacophony of whiplash, for sure.
You hear a cough behind you that takes you out of your ruminations, and you see Jihyun smiling at you before entering the living room, rubbing behind Layla's ears. "Ladybug, you two are something else."
You shake your head and pop open the water to gulp down. When you've taken a hefty sip, you say, "We're nothing Mrs. Sim. We made that clear already."
"Please don't call me that, honey. Mrs. Sim is my mother-in-law and you know that."
You chuckle. "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about."
Jihyun raises her hands and shakes her head. "I didn't say you were anything…" She walks closer and sets a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "But if you were, this family would be more than better off with you in it. Whether or not some of us see that right now, it's true."
Before you can ask her what she means, she saunters back towards her bedroom with Layla following in tow; your brain imprints her knowing grin to memory.
The Sims can be incredibly cryptic when they want to be.
Aria spends dinner with all of you, and Jake even invites Heeseung over to liven up the mood that you and Jamie sour by remaining quiet. You can't help it; Aria is too bold, too bright, too everything you can't give Jake right now.
You spend that night with the family stoic and deadpan, only conversing with everyone in small sentences. You barely say goodbye to Aria and Heeseung when they take their leave, nodding at her once and not again as she walks out. Jamie notices the tension in your body, but you don't want to talk. You don't give her the time to ask. You just walk into the guest room without another word and hide away, hoping to finish the rest of the trip with no more issues. Your best friend might call you a buzzkill, but it's better than going against her wishes.
Another hour rolls by, and when you're on the verge of sleeping, Jake barrels into your room without closing the door.
"Do you care at all?" Jake huffs out, chest rising and falling fast. He tries to remain quiet out of your fear he'll wake Jamie in the next room, but you can tell from the tone in his voice that he's breaking his own resolve.
You rise from your bed and quickly shut the door, confusion overtaking you. "What are—"
"I spent all of this morning ready to burn under the sun without SPF trying to prove a point because you wanted me to be realistic, and you said nothing. All day and since the second Aria came by, you've had this terrible pout on your face. What do you want from me?"
You know exactly what you want. Maybe it's better to let it out now and give Jake some clarity, even if it'll kill him on the inside like it's doing to you.
"I want you to be happy," you say, "but I realized pretty quickly I want that happiness to be with me." You raise your arms weakly, tears threatening to spill over. "But I can't. Jamie is too important, and she's made it perfectly clear she thinks this would be too weird for her."
"What do you think?" Jake steps forward, hair tickling your face from how close he is to your body. That charge between you reignites; the current that's kept you inextricably linked hums like a live wire once again. "What do you want?"
You sigh, taking a deep breath, unable to swallow another unspoken word. "I want you. Of course I want you."
Jake smirks softly and captures his hand in yours, fingers intertwining. "Then have me. Have me in whatever way you want, as long as I get to have you back."
The time between Jake's last words and now, the two of you in a tangle of clothes, feels like a lifetime. The previous time you were intimate like this is nothing compared to right now. Where that was frantic and fast-paced with undergarments stuck to sweaty, sexually charged skin, this is slow and reverent. Jake undresses you like he's afraid you'll take back what you said and did just an hour ago. As if you could ever.
There's no way you can change your mind now; his charms have unknotted all of your left brain's logic.
He kisses your neck and collarbones with tenderness. He leans down to kiss the tops of both of your naked breasts, and it's like he's striking the match that will burn you alive.
You want to savor the moment like he clearly is, but it's too much and not enough, two sides of the same coin. You arch into him on his bed, your legs intertwining with his. "Jaeyun, if you don't do something right now, I will combust."
Jake chuckles and sucks one of your nipples in his mouth the second after you command him, biting and teasing the bud with his teeth, and your body bows even harder off of his sheets. The pleasure builds like a wave, and he's barely done anything.
Hedonistically, he slides his fingers down to your aching clit. Essence gathers between his fingers as he runs his hand across your folds eagerly. "You're dripping," he mumbles, his lips resting a breath from yours. "So warm and wet."
You moan and ride his fingers, his figure-eights on your swollen bud building you up further.
"I want to make you come, more than anything," Jake starts before kissing your lips between every other word. "But I want to feel you around me when you do it."
His naked body slots against yours when he moves in closer. His biceps, thighs, cock, and fingertips cling to you like it's your own skin, but it's only a fraction of how close you want him to be.
You've spent so long hiding in the shadows and denying your feelings for him, and now that you have him, you need to cherish every millisecond of time before you're forced back into that corner of the world he didn't occupy.
You clench around nothing, your walls fluttering from the way Jake's tip slides against your clit agonizingly slow. He watches it all, how you writhe and beg with your body, and he adores it.
"So beautiful." The resounding breathless chuckle on his tongue could be as loud as a gunshot with the way it rings in your ears. "If I knew how pretty you'd look like this," he starts, "I'd have made you mine a long time ago."
You gasp as his thumb replaces the head of his cock on your clit, rubbing small but intentional circles there. "Do you want me to be?" you ask, dazed.
In that second between your question and his response, he slides the entirety of his cock into you until he bottoms out, pelvic bones meeting like hands in prayer. "What do you think?"
You want to pinch yourself in this moment, ensure yourself it's real as he moves. He holds the back of your neck with one hand as he leans down to press his lips to yours. His hips give a sharp thrust that has you moaning into his mouth. You find purchase on his naked skin, running your palms along the lines of his shoulder blades down to the smooth planes of his hips.
This can't be another dream, can it?
"You're perfect," you gasp as he thrusts again. "How are you real?"
Jake smiles down at you, mystified by the question being asked by you and not him. He takes one of your hands in his to press to his chest. You hear the frantic tempo of his heartbeat, the sound a messy drumbeat that makes your own heart clench. "Is that real enough?"
It was never supposed to be like this, you and him. But it's too beautiful for the most extravagant words, thoughts, or feelings to describe.
"More than enough," you say with a breathless giggle. You pull him down for another kiss, tangling your fingers in the ends of his hair.
It's holy how much he cherishes you and the experience of having you. He doesn't press too hard or take too much, giving as well as he gets it. When you bite down on his neck, leaving a mark that for sure will bruise soon, he runs his fingers along your burning clit, running lovingly tight circles there to prove he enjoys your possessive acts. When you tell him how good it feels, he moves faster and deeper, returning your praise with more pleasure.
"It feels so good, baby. You're like heaven around me," he swears. "Tell me how it is for you."
No coherent words come to mind, but you settle on, "So fucking good, Yunnie. More than that even." The words sound jumbled off of your tongue, and he smirks from how fucked you already are on his cock. But the smile isn't condescending or smug, just teasing in the most loving way.
He's safe and open and yours, and you can't fathom how you've become so lucky to receive the chance to be his in return.
You suck him in eagerly as you near your release, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the screams you can't release into the air. Not unless you want to wake up the entire house.
"I know you're close," Jake grunts. His hand comes up to the headboard for leverage as he slams into you harder, his other hand stroking your clit with more pressure. "Come around me, baby. Show me what it's like when you let go."
You show him with all your might when you shatter into the millions of pieces he's created of you with his passion. Your eyes scrunch shut as your mouth falls open, jaw slacking from the pleasure that overloads your entire being. Body limp and face buried in Jake's pecs, you think about all the times you've spent in secret, wanting and wishing for him, whether or not you knew it.
Now, you know too well the way he envelops your soul, and you never want to stop knowing him like this.
Jake comes undone soon after, warmth flooding your body with his release as he moans in your ear about how beautiful you are alongside a barrage of curses. "Holy shit, I'm still coming," he swears, another minute spent with his body thrusting up into yours to release what's left of his cum into you. You could spend forever here, you think, wrapped up in each other and this man who is now yours lost in ecstasy.
Jake finally pulls out when he's exhausted all of his energy, and beads of pearly white cum drip out of you from the separation. You don't clean it up, and neither does he. You're both too spent and satiated to care.
"Hi," you croak, head resting on Jake's shoulder when he gets comfortable in his bed and pulls the covers over you. You're tucked up to your chin, protected but still vulnerable in the aftermath of your orgasm.
Jake grins and tucks a stray sweaty hair from your face. "Hi to you too, beautiful."
When he continues to stroke your hair like it's the most precious thing he's ever touched, you think all the consequences in the world are worth this. You believe, without a doubt, that every price you'll pay for his affection is worthwhile.
"You and Jake."
Jamie says the three words like they don't belong in the same sentence. She sits on the dining chair across from you and Jake, both your hands interlocked in front of her like you're her parents sitting down to reprimand her. But it's the other way around, clearly.
Today, she probably expected to find you both making breakfast again, like it was a normal day through and through. Even when you told her you both needed to speak to her, she trotted over to the dining table like nothing was wrong. And nothing was wrong in your eyes, but you knew Jamie's opinion would change the second you told her the truth.
"Yes."
"Dating?"
"Yes." It feels so good to say. You bite back the smile that threatens to tug your lips up. You should feel guilty for betraying Jamie the way you have, going against her word so shamefully, but you can't. It's not a sin you've committed, or a traitorous act that can't be forgiven.
Jamie slaps her hands against her knees, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "So, the talk we had meant nothing, clearly."
"It did, J. I just—"
"Wait, what talk?" Jake squeezes your palm once, showing his concern that you didn't tell him about whatever Jamie is referencing.
"That day before breakfast. She found me the morning after she went grocery shopping with your parents…and I said I'd stay away from you because she asked me to."
"You never told me that," Jake responds sadly. The blush creeping up his neck shows how embarrassed he must be by his actions afterward. You don't blame him for a second of it, though. It all worked out, anyway.
Your best friend huffs, prepared to vomit. "Don't talk to her like you know her."
"I do, Jamie." His tone drops, the soothing aura he had for you replaced with irritated admonishment of his older sister. You can tell he's exasperated from her judgement already. You squeeze his palm back to ask him silently to loosen up, and he unclenches his jaw to prove he's listening to you. He always seems to know what to do to make sure he is.
It's not love yet, but you're so close, it hurts.
"Please stop acting like you're the only one who does," Jake says finally.
"Really? Did you hold her hand the first time she got her period? Or when her and that douche boyfriend in sophomore year broke up with her right before Valentine's Day? Oh, let's not forget how she stole me a pack of Plan B during our senior trip to Spain."
"Jamie!" you shout, face turning red. "What the fuck?"
Jake just laughs sadly. "You may think you have a leg up on me, and that could be true. I don't have the history you both do. But I've cared about her for so long, longer than you may think." He sighs and turns to look at you, a small smile shared between you both as he strokes your skin with his thumb. "If you have to hate me or us for the way we feel, so be it."
"Stop acting like you're the mature one here!" Jamie shrieks. "Do you not understand how fucked this is?"
"You're the only one who thinks that way," you cut in. "You're making it more of a big deal than it has to be when we're all grown adults."
The scrape of her chair and stomp of her feet towards the backyard's glass door signifies your betrayal in her eyes. And the slam of the door against its metal lining exemplifies her burning rage. She would've yelled if not for her parents sleeping soundly upstairs, you know it.
You follow quickly behind, letting go of Jake's hand to run out to the backyard and follow her, passing Layla on the way to the door. Jake knows not to follow, and you appreciate him all the more for it. The end of the conversation lies between you and Jamie now.
You find her sitting with her knees tucked to her chest, overlooking the backyard fence and facing away from the pool. You cautiously sit down next to her, and she doesn't bristle or immediately scoot away. She's just quiet, unsure, and somehow that feels worse than her exploding at you right now.
"You know I love you, right?" you begin with that question because it feels the most apt. If she truly knew what you were risking, she wouldn't take your feelings or her brother's in this way, like it's a game both of you are playing with blind eyes.
She nods, silent and staring down at the surrounding grass.
"I really like him, Jamie." Your voice, as well as your eyes, flood with tears. It cracks on the sounds her name creates, and that makes her own eyes well up too.
"I never said you didn't."
"But you act like it's some fling. It kills me to see you hurt, but I can't put how I feel on hold anymore and neither can he." The words are both a relief to your own pain and an ache in your chest. Jamie's never been unable to feel the way she does, and you've never stopped her from doing so. But it's never been about her.
"I just don't want to lose you if it ends badly," Jamie confesses. She finally turns her gaze on you, irises glassy and the white of her eyes becoming red. "I can't."
You laugh sadly and pull her in close, shocked she could think such a thing. It gives way to understanding the fears Jamie has that're hidden beneath all the bluster. "That's never gonna happen, J, I promise. And I wouldn't be doing this if I thought your brother wasn't worth it."
Those two words—your brother—cause her to fake a gag. "Did it really have to be him, though? He doesn't brush his teeth until after breakfast, you know this."
You both share a chuckle, heads knocking into each other's and knees touching like nothing has changed.
In a way, it doesn’t have to. With the silence, you feel her anger ebb away, replaced with a resigned acceptance that she can't change this; it's too late, and she'll have to go with it even if she's against it.
But some things will never change. You're still best friends, and you’ll always have each other, despite being Jake’s significant other now and her being his sister. They’re not mutually exclusive, and that’s okay. Above all else, you’ll be the one person she can turn to forever, and vice versa. That's how it's always supposed to be and will be.
"Josh finally wised up, thank God. He'll be coming to the house in a few days to meet my folks, so you and my brother better be on your best behavior!" Jamie waggles a finger in your direction as she drives further down the road to the university. She doesn't look at you directly, but the instruction is clear, for you and your boyfriend to be nice to her new flavor of the week, and it makes it that much more hilarious.
"Aren't we always?" You wiggle your eyebrows despite her not seeing, and her finger becomes a full-fledged hand in your face. You giggle, taking that hand in yours. "How much longer?"
"Ten minutes, you freak. You act like the last time you saw him was a thousand years ago."
It's been a month and two days since you've been in the same space as Jake, but who's counting? You fell asleep on the phone together last night, so it wasn't as though you went without him for too long, but physical cohabitation was another thing entirely.
Happy didn't explain the emotion you felt when Jamie recommended picking Jake up from school on the way to her parent's, even if it added an hour and a half to the drive. She knew as well as you did how much you missed him. That didn't stop her from teasing you about it incessantly, though.
You shrug and put her hand back in her lap, not denying her exaggeration. Your heart thrums harder with every minute that counts down to your arrival.
Jake's dorm hall appears through the thicket of trees. Small pockets of students walk out of the building holding beach bags and other luggage to take to their cars. Finally, emerging from the sea of people, Jake appears. His mess of floppy hair you'd recognize anywhere, the locks almost falling to his shoulders. He dons a long-sleeved shirt that hides every beautiful line of the body you know so well by now, and you think he hasn't changed at all. Still beautiful, still yours.
You barely wait for the car to stop before you get out. Your feet carry you with the speed of a thousand strikes of lightning. Unbothered by the way your ankles and thighs burn as you run faster, all that matters is the smile that widens on your boyfriend's face when he sees you.
Jake catches you in his arms after you leap into them. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and squeeze his lower half. The Sim house used to be one of the few places you found solace, but it's just not true anymore. Now, it's in Jake too, his love the greatest peace you've ever known.
Jake plants kisses all over the crown of your head before meeting your lips, the taste of spearmint gum coating your tongue. You giggle mid-liplock, and Jake smiles brightly down at you. "Hi."
"Hi," you respond before pressing your mouth to his again.
"Okay, horndogs! We need to leave soon before all that braised pork goes to waste!" You both separate and turn to see Jamie with her arms crossed and a close-lipped smile on her face. She's not angry or put off by the sight before her, her best friend and little brother entangled like vines. If anything, the spark in her eyes is all for show, her happiness hidden under the surface, even with the added snarky commentary.
You used to think that there were two certainties in the world. But now, they're accompanied by another truth.
No matter how many trials and tribulations you go through, Jamie will always be your best friend. Your best friend often gets what she wants—although she couldn't stop you from falling for her brother. And you are head over heels for Sim Jaeyun, forever and always.
You don’t even like baseball. Yet, here you are, on a date with a deadbeat who you regret not turning down. In good news, a certain player keeps catching your eye, making this experience easier to sit through. In bad news, an apocalypse is coming your way. Little do you know, in that chaos and horror, you’ll find that there may have been a good reason you chose to go to the baseball game…and his name is Park Jongseong.
WARNING(S): SMUT; oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex. GORE; descriptions of death, people being mauled and dismembered, and generally gruesome + horror forward themes.
WORD COUNT: 13k
NOTE: Please enjoy this beloved fic of mine! While it’s inspired by the A Quiet Place Franchise, you don’t have to have seen the movies to read. Also, word on the street is i’m working on a Dark!Niki fanfic 🙂↕️
You don’t even like baseball.
Not for any good reason, but you’d never been particularly interested in sports. Maybe it’s because you’ve always subconsciously associated it with men who’ve got fragile egos.
Regardless of the reason why, you’re still trying to wrap your head around your date’s thought process.
What about this is romantic?
It’s hot, for one. The announcers voice is incredibly loud as it echoes through the stadium, yet hard to hear at the same time. You’re squished between your date and another random man, who has no regard for your need for arm space.
And, of course, you are lost. So ridiculously lost. Maybe it’s on you. After all, you agreed to go on the date, knowing it was baseball. It felt cruel to turn your date, Arthur, down, especially when he emphasized that he bought an extra ticket just for you!
You sigh, slumping in your seat. Not dramatically enough to draw any attention to yourself, but Arthur is so fixated on the field that you don’t think he’d notice you throwing a whole tantrum next to him.
You grimace at the way he shoves his hot dog between his lips, the ketchup, mustard, and other toppings dripping down the side of his mouth. Which, he wipes with his thumb, just to lick it off. It’s not inherently gross or unnatural, but you’re quickly realizing that you’re just not into this poor guy.
From the jump, he’d been charming, sure, but he also had this off-putting energy. Not like serial killer off-putting, but more like the kind of guy who wants a wife and kids, but not necessarily to be a dad or husband, if that makes any sense.
You wanted to see it through, though, give the guy a chance. Which is why you’re here. Unfortunately for you, you’ve already made up your mind about Arthur, and now, you have to sit through this baseball game with a convincing enough smile to remain unbothered by him worrying about it.
Grabbing your paper cup, you sip on the cold soda of your choice, a taste of relief underneath the hot sun.
In other good news, safe from the half-melted drink in your hand, one of the players for the Seattle Mariners team is rather attractive. Which, you’re well aware that it’s somewhat immoral to be checking out a completely unattainable man while you’re actively on a date, but you’ve already decided that you’re gonna let him down gently later, so what’s the harm?
Park Jongseong, moreso known as Jay, or number 19, from what you’ve gathered, is a stellar player. He’s good at batting—you think that’s the term—and seems to have a shitload of fans in the stands.
Safe from your date, that is, who scowls at the baseball player like he’s got a personal vendetta against him.
“Why do you make that face every time?” You ask, tilting your head at Arthur, who you have to nudge to get his attention.
He looks at you, and you repeat yourself, just for him to scoff incredulously, like you should know exactly why he despises Jay.
“He’s the kind of player that’s only so popular because girls like him. He’s not even that good! Like, there was this one time—“
And here comes the long winded rant about shit you won’t understand. It’s clearly fueled by his disdain for Jay, rather than actual fact, and you’re somewhat icked out by the fact that he’s so passionate about his hatred for the man that he’s foaming at the mouth.
Yuck.
Again, if he was a better guy, you would care less, but he is not helping his case. So, you just nod, feign understanding.
“Yeah, boo,” you agree, shaking your head as Arthur whips his head back towards the field, finishing his hot dog in the same messy fashion he started eating it with.
You manage an amused huff at the ridiculousness of this situation. Your eyes wander back to the field, and your gaze lands on your beloved player.
Ironically, an actual grin forms on your lips. He’s pretty, with dark hair and tan skin, one of few guys to pull of full baseball attire. You can barely see his face, given his helmet, but every-time there’s a closeup shot on the big screen, you take your time admiring his features.
Arthur seems to notice the look on your face, and nudges your shoulder. “Having fun?” he asks, with a wide, oblivious grin, and you just nod enthusiastically.
You snicker to yourself, just under your breath, as you both return your attention to the game. Your eyes narrow with focus as you watch Jay ready up.
The ball is thrown, and he readjusts his grip on his bat, whacking it with immense force when it comes his way. The crowd roars, and the commentators burst into chaotic rants, all the while, the ball is hurdling towards the crowd.
Fortunately, no one is pummeled with it. In fact, by the time it comes falling, it lands on the ground below you. Interesting.
You lean down, rather enthusiastically, to grab the ball, just for a bigger hand to come down and snatch it. Your date. Arthur.
He fucking pelts the ball back onto the field, and you look up with a shocked, betrayed expression.
“What the fuck?!” You snap at him, and even some of the attendees around you both confront him for his behavior. You’re sure they’re not worried about you, so much as the possibility that they could have gotten their hands on the ball, but at least you aren’t the only one mad.
“What?” Arthur bites back, oblivious as ever, as he plops back down into his seat, his shoulder shoving against yours.
There goes your mood.
Even focusing back on Jay doesn’t seem to fix it, thanks to the douche canoe to your left.
What you missed, though, was the look of shock on Jay’s face. Not only is he too far away for you to make out any facial expressions, you were too busy glaring down your stupid date to see the way he scowled.
He hadn’t meant for the ball to go into the crowd, but the last thing he’d ever be is opposed to someone getting to take home such a souvenir, whether they’re into baseball or not.
And even if you had no interest in the game, your growing interest in Jay was enough to make that instance rather upsetting. Maybe you’d have gotten into baseball just to spite your date, become one of those “fangirls” he seems to hate so much.
Anyways, the game drags on for what feels like forever, and maybe it’s because you’re fuming, or maybe it really is just that long of a play.
Either way, by the time it’s over, your ass hurts, your thighs are stuck to the seat, and you’ve never been so eager to get home and take a shower.
Arthur is giving you the cold shoulder, it seems, as you’re getting up to leave. He’s got a set look of disinterest on his face, like you’d done him wrong.
You roll your eyes as you grab your bag, and any trash that Arthur seemed to have no plans on picking up. As you’re on your way to the stairs, to leave the stands, you hear yelling.
“Hey, miss!” Calls a voice, just loud enough to catch your attention. You look back, and there’s Park fucking Jongseong holding a ball, smiling at you.
You shove the trash into Arthurs’ hands, because of course his nosy ass turned around too, and walk towards the edge of the stands.
Jay tosses the ball up, and it lands perfectly in your hands. His signature is on it, accompanied by some smudges of dirt, a bit of beating from the bat, it seems, like he’d gone and retrieved the ball your date tossed— oh my god.
He did!
Your eyes light up as you look back at Jay, and he gives a kind wave, before he turns on his heel, walking back across the field.
Your heart flutters, and you feel ridiculous for it, but fuck if that didn’t make you feel more than Arthur ever had.
“Stupid fucking game,” Arthur mutters, and kicks one of the stairs before stomping up them like a damn toddler.
Yet, your mood has been repaired once again, by Jay…again. With a small smile, you clutch the ball and start up the stairs.
That smile fades though, when a mob of people are rushing your way. Men and women alike, as if they’re hunting you—or, more accurately, the ball in your hands—down. A look of horror flashes across your face as you start to back up, towards the barricade of the grand stands, because you’ll be damned if they take the one good thing that’s come out of today from you.
Alas, you’re one woman, against a hoard of lord knows how many feral baseball fans.
Meanwhile, on the field, Jay looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight. He curses under his breath, because he should have known better.
Jay doesn’t get a chance to act, though.
Not before screams of horror ripple through the stands. Not before chairs are ripped out of the concrete, thrown around haphazardly.
Distracted by the sudden, unknown threat, the ball is pried from your hands. The man who got it yells in exclamation, triumph, but then, a clawed, alien-like hand suddenly plucks him up like he’s nothing.
The ball drops, and rather than worrying about the very obvious danger directly ahead of you, you reach down, snatch the ball, and look up just in time to witness the man being thrown across the stands, at least fifty feet by this…creature.
Its four legs make up almost all of its body, its face opens like the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen, decorated with rows of sharp, slimy teeth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and you’re paralyzed with fear.
That is, until you’re grabbed by the arm, and suddenly dragged away, to a hidden exit that must have been blocked off from those in the stands.
As you barely grasp what’s going on, you realize that Jay is the one guiding you to what you hope is some form of safety. You clutch the ball in your hands like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded—which, it kind of is—and Jay leads you to the dugout.
It feels exposed, but when he drags you into a corner and has you crouch down with him, it’s not so bad. Well, safe from the echoing screams and chaos happening in the stands.
When you open your mouth to talk, eyes watery and blown with fear, Jay shakes his head vigorously, putting a finger to his lips, then yours. He nods his head towards the stands above, trying to silently communicate with you.
Your brows furrow with confusion, and Jay leans in.
“Sound. Notice how that…thing attacked the guy because he was yelling, making a lot of noise? We need to be quiet.” Jay explains, his voice smooth, unwavering, despite the scenario.
He takes a good look at you, and not for the same reason he looked back earlier—because he was hoping to catch another glimpse of the pretty girl who got the ball— but rather to make sure you’re unharmed. His hands linger on your arms, and his eyes are warm, caring, as he examines you.
He sees that you’re white-knuckling the ball, and can’t help but grin just a little. That’s cute.
He lays a hand over yours, meeting your gaze as he reassuringly squeezes your hand. As if to tell you “it’s okay” with the gentle touch.
Thunder suddenly booms in the distance, and when you flinch, Jay gently draws you into his embrace. While he’s not one to be so bold, for various reasons, he sees no reason to not comfort you right now.
The chaos seems to quiet, just in time for rain to begin pouring down from the sky above. Its sound is emphasized by the tin roof of the dugout, but the white noise is much nicer than the sound of people being mauled.
Jay sighs, his hand firm on your back, his head rested against yours. “So…your date didn’t seem like a great guy,” he says lowly, just loud enough for you to hear over the rain.
“I…yeah,” you laugh faintly, shaking your head as you look down at the signed ball in your grasp, rolling it between your hands.
“Thank you,” you say a moment later, lifting the ball, then nodding towards the stands, referring to when he practically saved your life.
He shakes his head dismissively, offering a reassuring smile. “It was the right thing to do, but you’re welcome.” He muses.
Before you can say anything else, a loud clanging sound makes both of you silent in an instant, your bodies tensing next to one another’s.
Thunder claps again, closer now, and you let out a soft breath as it seems you’re spared from whatever the fuck that first clanging sound was from.
You sink to the ground, looking out at the field, void of life, dimmed under the now gloomy sky. You carefully pull your phone out of your bag, put it on silent, and your eyes widen when an alert appears on your screen, issuing a state of emergency in the city of Seattle.
It’s not surprising, per se, but the realization that this threat is clearly looming, and larger than you had hoped becomes very prominent. Your throat tightens with worry, and your eyes sting again with tears.
Jay puts his hand on your arm, bringing you back to the moment, out of your spiraling thoughts.
“We’re safe,” he says under his breath, reassuringly, with a short, firm nod.
You let yourself believe it, even if it’s untrue. With a small nod of your own, you shove your phone back into your bag, opting to continue holding the baseball for dear life.
Jay sighs, then slowly stands up. Your eyes widen with fear, and you reach out to grab his hand, shaking your head, eyes pleading with him not to do anything risky.
“I have to check,” He mouths, gently prying his hand out of your grasp. Despite the look of worry on your face, he slowly walks out onto the field, turning to scan the stands.
While there seems to be no more of the creatures, the aftermath is equally as horrific. The blood, the destruction, the mutilated bodies and forgotten items. He swallows thickly, then walks back towards the dug out, now damp from the rain.
He reaches out to grab your hand, gently pulling you to your feet. “I need you to trust me,” he mutters, and you just nod, drawing in a breath when he gently covers your eyes with his hand.
He guides you across what you assume is the field, to an exit. Regardless of if you could handle it or not, he knows there’s no reason to let you witness the horror that lingers in the stands.
“I have an uh…an apartment,” Jay murmurs in your ear, finally letting his hand down. “It’s not far. We’ll walk there, and if we can get in, we’ll stay there tonight, okay?” He explains.
“I…are you sure? I mean, what if—“
“Hey. If I thought it would be unsafe, I wouldn’t do it. Okay? I got you,” he promises, raising a brow sternly.
With a slow nod of acceptance from you, he guides you out of the stadium, down the barren streets of Seattle. There’s no traffic or laughter, no signs of life. Everyone’s retreated, or worse, you assume.
“It’s raining. Hard. It’ll drown out any sounds we make. It’s okay.”
Jay’s voice is firm, promising, as you stand in his apartment, fingers shaking as they still hold the ball. He walks towards you and gently peels the ball from your hand, setting it on the counter.
He then takes your purse, sets it down next to the ball.
“Let’s get you dry,” He says, guiding you to sit down on the couch, before he walks away for a few moments, returning with a towel to wrap around your shoulders, since the rain drenched both of you the whole walk back to the apartment.
“Thank you, Jay,” you muse, looking up at him. He smiles, nodding in response.
“I never caught your name,” He says, a small, almost embarrassed laugh leaving his lips. How could he have forgotten to ask? Where are his manners?
Fortunately for him, you giggle. “Y/N.”
He nods, repeating it under his breath.
“Well, Y/N,” He hums, “It’s my pleasure to have you,” he says, then gestures to the apartment for some unknown reason, like he wanted to clarify his intentions.
He wanted to clarify his intentions.
A grin forms on your lips, but you decide you won’t pry into what exactly he meant by that. Instead, you watch as he walks into his kitchen.
“Have you eaten?” He asks, glancing at you, humming when you shake your head. He rummages carefully through his cupboards, because god forbid he were to somehow make too much noise, despite the pouring rain outside.
He pulls out ramen cups, turning to you. He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay with that, but you’re nodding before he can.
He just smiles to himself, and carries on. He fills the cups with water, sets them in the microwave, then walks into his bedroom. When he comes out, he’s changed into a black t-shirt and jeans, having cleaned off any dirt left on his skin from the field.
God, he’s hot. Like, seriously hot. You thought, when you were in the stands, that maybe it was just because you were sat so far away, but if anything, he’s more attractive up close.
“Look, if you’d like, you can borrow any of my clothes, or I can wash yours— or, hell, i’m sure we can find somewhere to get you new ones, but my point here is that I want you to be comfortable, so…make yourself at home, yeah? Just let me know if you need anything, or if there’s anything i can do.” He explains.
There it is again.
Your heart flutters. He’s so pretty, so kind, and his voice is so smooth and sincere—
You force a nod, sighing shakily as you look back towards the big window, overlooking the city. It’s emptier than ever, rain blurring the view through the glass.
You can hear Jay moving around in the kitchen. Carefully opening the microwave, pulling the ramen cups out, taking his time to stir them up.
You look over your shoulder, and decide to get up, walking towards the kitchen counter, bar stools tucked beneath the side that faces the living room.
You sit down, and Jay slides one cup towards you, along with chopsticks, before he digs into his, and makes a dramatic gesture, waving his hand in front of his mouth.
“It’s hot.” He says, making you giggle, and you quickly realize it wasn’t actually hot. Not hot enough to burn, and especially not with the way he blew on the noodles before eating them.
He just wanted to make you smile.
Your heart clenches this time. It doesn’t flutter, but squeezes. It’s painful yet welcome, and you quietly begin to eat the ramen. Which, given the fact that you don’t remember when you last ate, is some of the best ramen you think you’ve ever had.
You both eat in comfortable silence, Jay humming quietly here and there.
You don’t miss the way his brows move as he chews. A little quirk you don’t think you’ve noticed on anyone else. It’s cute.
Your eyes scan the kitchen counters. Safe from a plate and a few utensils in the sink, it’s clean, likely because he’s never at home enough to gather clutter, you assume. He seems like that kind of guy, but you could be wrong. Maybe he’s just a minimalist.
“So, what was the deal with your date?” Jay suddenly asks, as he leans his hip against the counter, glancing at you curiously.
“Uh…” you pause, stirring the noodles in the cup, watching idly. “He was my date,” you say with reluctance. Wasn’t much of a date at all, really.
“Oh?” Jay chirps, taking another bite of his ramen. “Like, first date or boyfriend-date or…?”
“It was our second date, actually,” You huff out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “I’m gonna be honest, I wasn’t really into him, but he seemed so excited about the baseball tickets. Didn’t want to disappoint, you know?”
Jay hums in acknowledgement, tilting this head thoughtfully. “That’s nice of you,” He muses.
A moment of silence passes. Both of you take another bite of your ramen.
“Excuse my language, but he seemed like an ass, respectfully,” Jay then says, making you pause.
Then, you grin. “He was an ass. One hundred and ten percent an ass,” You confirm.
“Sorry you had to sit through two dates with him, then,” Jay muses, and you both share a laugh at the notion.
As you’re finishing your ramen, a certain sweet treat catches your eye — Nutella.
Jay follows your gaze, his grin widening. “You want some?” He asks, and you nod slowly.
So, when you both wrap up with the ramen, he takes care of the trash and dishes, then sets the Nutella on the counter while he grabs a slice of bread, putting it in what looks to be all too fancy of a toaster.
“Can I have a spoon?” you ask, and Jay gives one to you mindlessly, too focused on the task at hand.
In fact, he’s sliding a piece of Nutella covered toast to you before he even notices that you’ve got a spoonful in your mouth.
He breaks into a shocked laugh, then shakes his head once. “Alright, fuck it,” the grabs another spoon, then scoops up a big glob of Nutella, before he shoves it into his mouth.
As he works his way through the thick substance, he grimaces slightly.
“So much chocolate,” He says through the Nutella in his mouth, making you both burst into a fit of giggles.
Once he recovers, he rinses off both spoons, smiling to himself when you go in for the toast. Then, he grabs a glass, fills it with water, and sets it in front of you, tending to you like it’s as natural as ever.
And honestly, it feels natural to you. You feel incredibly at home, despite being in such an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar company.
Later that night, Jay had given you the choice to take his bed, or sleep on the couch, whichever made you more comfortable.
Reluctantly, you accepted his bed, with some persuasion on his part.
So, now you’re in his bed, alone, in the dark. The rain is still going, but quieter now, more of a drizzle.
Your mind wanders back to earlier, the scene that unfolded in the stands, the fact that your date ditched you. You briefly wonder what happened to him, if he’s okay, and decide it’s not worth worrying over. There’s nothing you could do, anyways, and he clearly didn’t care what happened to you.
You sigh, a heavy, much needed sigh. Rolling over, you catch a whiff of Jay. That woodsy, warm scent, clearly remnants of his cologne in the bed, wrapped up in the sheets, lingering on the pillow that you can only assume he uses regularly.
Suddenly, being without him feels suffocating.
And, yes, that’s insane.
You just met the fucking guy.
You spend a good ten minutes warring with yourself. Maybe it’s just the situation. You’re scared and uncertain, so you’re clinging to something that’s not real.
Or maybe there is a genuine connection. Maybe he feels it too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you.
You blink at the ceiling, then get up. You walk quietly to the door, open it gently, and move in the same cautious manner down the little halfway to the living room.
He’s sprawled across the couch, but it doesn’t seem he’s asleep. There’s a news channel playing on the TV, playing videos taken by those who were able to catch the creatures invading on film.
They’ve decided to dub them “Death Angels.”
You swallow at the reality of the situation as it weighs down on you once again. Then, you speak lowly.
“Jay?”
His head whips around, and he gazes at you from the couch. “Y/N,” he muses. “What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed with concern as he sits up, gesturing for you to come closer.
You walk towards the couch, arms wrapped around yourself in a sheepish manner.
“I don’t…want to be alone,” You murmur, avoiding his gaze, even as it gently caresses your form, with not even a hint of judgement.
“Okay,” he speaks softly, “Then you won’t be.”
It’s simple and sincere. He gestures again, beckoning you to join him on the couch. When you sit down, he drapes a blanket over you, then leans back, letting out a breath before he talks.
“There’s boats. At Alki beach.”
He stares at the TV, gnawing at his inner cheek. “Cars are too loud, when the streets are quiet, so we’d have to walk, but…but it would only be a few days,” He explains, sighing quietly. “It’s not safe to stay here, and even if we wanted to, evacuation is mandatory,” Jay continues.
“…Why are you helping me?” You ask suddenly, making Jay’s brows knit together.
“Why would I not?”
“I don’t know, it just seems…” You trail off. The only thing it seems is incredibly generous, which you’ve gathered that he seems to be exactly that, and genuinely so.
“I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do.”
You blink, then smile slightly. “You said the same thing when I thanked you earlier. It’s okay to give yourself some credit, you know?”
“Sure, but I don’t need it. Not when i’m doing the bare minimum,” he shrugs, glancing at you, then back at the TV.
He’s so…different.
He doesn’t expect praise. He doesn’t expect anything at all, actually. He’s been nothing but kind, and for no reason other than it’s what he feels is right.
“It’s not the bare minimum. Bare minimum would be wishing me luck and sending me on my way, but you let me into your home, you fed me, you gave up your bed, and now you’re…if i’m not misunderstanding, you’re offering to let me go with you.”
“Not let you go with me,” He corrects, “Take you with me. There’s a difference.”
“And that difference is…?”
“Letting you go with me makes it sound like i’m reluctant. Taking you with me means i’m responsible for it. I’d like you to come with me — I’d like to know you get there safely, if you’ll let me do that.”
You’re completely, wholly taken aback, because who is this man and who raised him to be this giving?
“I’d let you do anything to me, at this rate.” You say without giving it a second thought.
He’s still for a moment, then laughs. It’s short and bashful, and he shakes his head slightly, a grin lingering on his lips.
“Alright.” He says simply, nodding once, as if to confirm that you’ll go with him, to the beach, to the boats. To safety. Real safety.
As you both sit in silence—he muted the TV, since the rain was beginning to die down, and he didn’t want to risk anything—tiredness finally washes over you.
Your head droops, and the last thing you remember, before falling asleep, is a warm hand guiding your head to a resting place.
Jay, putting your head on his shoulder.
DAY ONE:
It’s like the universe knows what chaos is going on.
The sun isn’t out, when you and Jay leave his apartment, to start your venture to the beach. It’s gloomy again—not raining, not yet—and the weather is noticeably colder than you recall it being during the game.
Jay’s estimate was that it would take three days at the least to reach the beach, a week at most.
He planned stops, hotels or rest spots, places to look for food. You’d honestly been a bit impressed by it, how put together his plan seemed.
The streets are crowded. Thickly so. It seems some learned the hard way, that cars or other vehicles would be too loud, given the flipped over automobiles, windows busted out, and what you don’t want to believe is unfortunate souls sprawled across the asphalt.
You grip the baseball between your hands, brows knit together as you walk alongside Jay.
You’ve never been in such a big, yet quiet crowd. Everyone’s footsteps are cautious and calculated, slow and measured.
You look down at the ground as you walk, avoiding glass or leaves, anything that might make too much noise if you were to unintentionally step on it.
Jay has a firm grip on your arm, guiding you forward. He seems almost…angry. You’re pretty sure you’re misreading it, but maybe he’s frustrated at how slow paced this whole thing is.
I mean, you can look over your shoulder and see his apartment, when you’ve been walking for nearly half an hour now.
You glance up at the gloomy sky, then back down to the pavement below your feet.
Suddenly, you walk into another person, who had just come to a full stop in front of you. They make a noise, a loud, scoff-like sound, as if they hadn’t just stopped for no reason.
Jays eyes widen, and he grips you even tighter, suddenly dragging you away from the crowd. You follow him, tripping over yourself as he yanks you into a pharmacy. He pushes you down, crouches next to you.
He folds himself over you, guarding you, like a human shield.
Then, you hear it.
The screams, the chaos, the vile sounds of people being torn apart.
Jay suddenly stands, grabs you again, and yanks you up roughly. He drags you through the store, behind the checkout counter, and into what seems to be a break room, where he shuts the door.
He lets go of you, grabs a chair that he carefully places under the doorknob, to act as a stopper.
Your heart is racing in your chest, and you slowly sink down to the floor, hands shaking around the ball in your hands, as your breathing becomes uneven.
While the sounds are muffled, you can still hear the horrific noise. The windows of the pharmacy sound as if they’re broken, and then comes that high-pitched shrieking sound you had heard in the stands yesterday.
Jay turns to see you, shaking and scared. He rushes to you, and wraps his arms around you, sitting down next to you.
It’s exactly how he held you in the Dugout.
This time, though, you curl into him, opting to hold the ball with one hand, so you can wrap your arms around him, and bury your face into his chest, like it’ll save you from whatever is coming your way.
Jay rests one hand on your back, and the other lands on the back of your head, where he strokes your hair.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, so quiet that you barely hear it. “We’re okay.”
You nod, almost frantically, clinging to his words exactly as you’re clinging to him.
Jay holds you until the noise quiets, and waits until you seem to relax even a little, before he loosens his hold.
He doesn’t let go yet, though. He gently tilts your head back, caressing your cheek with his hand.
“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod slowly. “Good,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on yours.
You swear he glances at your lips.
Then, he releases, with a subtle gulp, and carefully stands up. He examines the room around you both, then takes off his backpack, stalks over to a case of water bottles.
He unzips his bag, cautious and slow, before he begins loading it with water. Even if food is harder to get—given that there’s a vending machine right next to the water, of which would be entirely too loud to actually retrieve anything from—water is a non negotiable.
He tests the weight of his bag, then puts a few more bottles in it, and counts quietly. With a small, subconscious nod, he zips his bag up, and stands, putting it back over his shoulders.
You watch as he walks to the door, carefully removing the chair. It reminds you of when he had to leave the dugout to check the stands.
When he looks over his shoulder at you, and sees the worry on your face, he sighs quietly.
Jay walks towards you, crouches in front of you, and gently cups your face, tilting your head up.
“They can’t see. They rely on echolocation. As long as we’re quiet, we’re safe, okay?” He assures you in a low tone.
“And if we want to make any progress, we have to keep moving. I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna make it.” He promises.
You nod, lifting your hands to gently grasp his, where they rest on your cheeks.
Again, you swear he looks at your lips.
Then, he leans in, and your heart jumps several beats.
Instead of what you’d been expecting, though, he kisses your forehead, then stands up, offering his hand to you.
You blink, unsure of whether to be disappointed that it wasn’t your lips, or grateful that he kissed you at all.
That is, until you remember you just met the man, and internally scold yourself for being so entranced by him.
You take his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your feet.
Then, he does what he did when he lead you out of the field.
He covers your eyes for upwards of ten minutes, carefully guiding you forward. You’re assuming it’s not good, given that there seems to be hardly any crowding on the street now.
When he uncovers your eyes, his hand drops down to lace with yours, holding it firmly.
Then, you realize that you’re missing something that’s come to be rather important to you. The ball.
“My ball,” You say suddenly, brows furrowed as you look up at Jay.
His eyes widen as his hand flies up to cover your lips, and he looks at you with an expression that reads “Are you crazy?”
You press your lips together beneath his hand, guilt and fear clawing up your throat. How could you forget such a serious rule as to not speak, over a damn ball?
Jay looks around with sharp eyes, before he sighs, moving his hand to press his finger against his lips as a reminder for you to not talk.
He gently pulls you forward, and your heart sinks as you realize there will be no going back for it. You still aren’t sure why it means so much to you, but you do know that you’re dreading leaving it behind. So much so that each step forward feels near impossible.
Your eyes begin to water, against your will, but before any tears fall, Jay suddenly stops. He huffs under his breath, like he’s irritated, but not quite at the end of his fuse.
He lets go of your hand, carefully removes his backpack, and unzips it with even more caution than he had done in the break room.
You watch with furrowed brows, lifting your hands to wipe your wet eyes.
And, there it is. The ball. It sits on top of the water bottles, clearly retrieved by Jay, perhaps after he’d kissed your forehead.
You let go of it to reach up and cup his hands, you now remember.
You let out a careful breath of relief, gently taking the ball as he hands it to you.
You examine it for a moment, nodding reassuringly to yourself as you brush your thumb over the signature, which is slightly worn from how much you’d fidgeted with the ball since you got it.
Then, you cautiously leap forward, throwing your arms around Jay’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.
He’s tense at first, but he relaxes slowly, wrapping his arms just as tightly around you. He rubs your back, and his heart clenches when he hears your muffled cries against his jacket.
He caresses the back of your head, a silent reminder that it’s okay. He doesn’t let go until you do.
While you calm down, and wipe away the rest of your tears, Jay puts his backpack back on, and takes your hand, guiding you forward once more.
His expression is set in this stern, almost determined look, and for a moment, you feel guilty.
You were this close to throwing a fit over a ball. A baseball— you don’t even like baseball.
Swallowing, you look up at Jay, taking in his features. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed with focus, his nostrils flared slightly.
You look back ahead, trying to imagine where you’d be if it weren’t for Jay.
You aren’t sure you want to know how that would have gone. So, you don’t bother dwelling on it.
All you know is that you’re immensely grateful for him, and hurdling towards head over heels, too.
DAY TWO:
Safe from the incident in the morning, your first day of traveling through the city went smoothly.
You spent most of the walk in silence, both of you focused on simply making it to your next resting spot, which was a rather nice hotel, safe from the way it was ransacked.
No one was behind the front desk, which didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, which is why Jay took it upon himself to find a random room key.
Once in the room, you both sat down, drank water (which Jay also refilled the bottles while you were there), and talked quietly, sat across from one another on the couch.
Jay asked about your date again, and you gave him a pretty lengthy rundown. You met on a dating app, you reluctantly explained, along with the fact that you’d jumped from app to app, trying to form any sort of connection with any one.
Alas, men suck. You stated that proudly, perhaps a test of Jay’s character, as men you avoid tend to get offended about such a statement.
He laughed, though. He agreed, too, that a lot of guys do, in fact, suck.
Your little story time about Arthur also led to exposing your lack of knowledge about baseball.
So, then it was Jay’s turn to talk.
He explained his position as third baseman, how he bats fourth, brings in the runners. He grew up with baseball, and when his parents let him try it as an after school activity, it became clear that he had quite the talent for it.
You paid attention to his words, but found that you focused more on his voice, the warmth laced in his words, how gently he spoke to you. You were well aware that was mostly due to the circumstance, but a part of you wanted to believe it was just for you, and whatever bond you both now share.
You also watched closely, his facial expressions. The way his lips moved, how soft they looked, the way his brows twitched, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few sentences, fidgeting with the strands.
He’s good at hiding stress, you’d learned, but you’re slowly catching onto his giveaways.
Right now, you can see it clear as day. His jaw is set, clenched firmly, his brows are ever so slightly furrowed, and he’s white knuckling the strap of his backpack as you guys walk slowly through a less rundown part of the city. You’ve made it to the outskirts, now, the stores smaller and closer together.
The skies above, as they have been since this whole thing started, are dark. The air is cool, cooler than it was yesterday, kissing your skin with cold breezes that come and go.
For some reason, when you look at Jay, his clear state of stress makes your heart a little heavier, your chest tight. You roll your beloved baseball in your hands, the signature on it worn down more with each passing hour of you rubbing your thumb over it.
Suddenly, a cold droplet lands on your forearm. You look up, another drop landing on your cheek this time. Jay looks up, too, sighing quietly.
He reaches for your arm, gently tugging you closer to the buildings, using the awnings to shield you both from the rain as it comes down heavier and heavier.
You subconsciously lean into him, but he drops his hand, lets go of you. You glance up at him, his expression unchanging.
A frown forms on your lips as a result, and you squeeze the ball a little tighter as you keep walking.
“Are you mad at me?” You ask, and Jay whips his head towards you, giving you that look again. The “are you crazy?” look.
“It’s raining,” you say, lower this time, “I thought you said the rain makes it hard for them to hear us?”
“It does, but—“ Jay shakes his head, walking a little faster. “I don’t want to risk anything.”
His tone is firm, like that’s it. No arguing. No talking at all, actually.
It’s like the Jay you had just started getting used to disappeared, replaced with this less gentle version of him.
Maybe he’s tired.
Maybe the stress is getting to him.
Maybe he’s just scared, too.
Those are just a few of the excuses you make, trying to cope with the growing fear that the connection you thought you’d made with him was fake.
It’s not like his embrace made you feel safe, or his voice sounded like music, or that his presence felt oddly homey…or anything. Definitely not.
The rain persists. You and Jay keep walking, not a word spoken for the following hours.
Jay slows as you guys come upon a convenience store. You look at him, waiting for some sort of anything that gives way to his thoughts, but he just continues walking, heading towards the entrance of the store.
Despite your growing worry, you follow him. He turns to you, at last, and gestures to the food, before he walks towards said isles. You walk behind him at first, but as you scan the store, you decide that maybe, just maybe, he needs space.
Maybe that’s what it is.
So, you turn in the opposite direction.
It’s a convenience store you’ve never been in, but comparable to maybe a Walgreens, or CVS, one of those stores that has a little bit of everything you might need on a whim.
As you venture on your own, carefully up and down the isles, you stumble upon box of stuffed animals, and maybe it’s childish, but for whatever reason, you feel the urge to see what’s in said box.
On the surface, there’s an oversized teddy bear, a green and black snake, a pastel, multicolor cat, and just when you’re grabbing the pastel cat, you spot something else that draws your attention.
A black cat with golden eyes. You pick up the plushie, a small smile on your lips. It looks like Jay— but then your smile drops, when you remember how he’s been acting.
Yet, you keep hold of the stuffed animal, tucking it under your arm, holding the baseball that you still refuse to let go of.
Continuing to make your way through the isles, you clutch the stuffed animal like it’s a lifeline. Once again, you wonder what’s got you so goddamn attached to Jay.
It’s not like he’s done anything incredibly out of the ordinary…but then you recall what you said to him.
“The bare minimum would have been wishing me luck and sending me on my way.”
Yet, he’s done so much more than that. He’s comforted you, he’s fed you, kept you safe—
Then comes, once more, the wondering what would have happened if it weren’t for him. It’s not that you don’t think you’re capable of doing this on your own; if you had to, you would, but he’s made it so much easier for you.
Does he think you’re a burden?
You swallow, your eyes watering in an instant, because god fucking forbid that’s the case.
You realize now, that the reason you’re attached to him doesn’t fucking matter, but you don’t want to lose him. Not after all this.
Just when a tear slips down your cheek, a firm hand grabs your arm, startling you. You whip your head around, eyes wide, blown with fear.
It’s Jay, and he looks pissed, but more than that, scared. He looks you up and down, like he did in the dugout, but with a sense of urgency unlike before.
Like he needs to know, for certain, that you’re safe.
Just as he noticed the ball, the first time, he now notices the black cat tucked into your side. If he wasn’t so worried, he’d have smiled, but he does have an inward reaction. His heart clenches, fondly so.
He loosens his grip on your arm, but doesn’t let go. He lets out a breath, a sigh of relief, you think.
“Jay?” You whisper, scared that he’ll give you that look again, scared that he might, for some reason, shove you away.
Instead, he lifts his hand, and wipes your tear. “Why are you crying?” He whispers, brows furrowing like your pain is his own.
“I…I don’t know,” you shake your head dismissively, and instead of prying, he just nods, rubbing his thumb over your skin.
You swallow, feeling your eyes burn in response to how intense his gaze is, the tenderness in which he caresses your skin.
“Did I do something?” you choke out.
“What?” His brows furrow closer together, confusion spreading across his expression.
“You’ve been so…off today.” You murmur, “and I— I don’t know why, or if i’m overreacting.”
He blinks, lips parting as if to speak, before he closes his mouth, clenching his jaw like he always does.
“I just…i’m just worried.” He mutters. “Everything seems too calm, today, and it’s like…like i’m just waiting for the ball to drop. Maybe that’s pessimistic of me, but I can’t let my guard down.”
Your heart sinks. He is scared.
You lift your free hand, mirroring the way he’s caressing your cheek, and you shake your head slightly. “Pessimistic or not, it’s understandable,” You murmur.
He nods slightly, jaw clenching tighter as he ever so slightly nudges his head against your hand.
He steps closer, reaches for your waist with his free hand, and moves his hand down to the side of your neck. “I was worried something happened to you, and I somehow didn’t know. I’d…never have forgiven myself,” he whispers, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips.
“I thought you wanted space,” you muse honestly, and he shakes his head immediately.
“I want you by my side. At all times. I need to know you’re safe.”
You nod slowly, your heart swelling as he leans in, his nose brushing yours.
Before he can say anything else, you step closer and press your lips against his in a soft, careful kiss.
The rain seems to pour twice as heavy in an instant, and the sound fades into nothing as he devours your mouth with his own, yet remains tender as he kisses you back.
Your hand shifts to the back of his neck, and you hold him there, soaking up the kiss for every ounce of what it’s worth.
In this moment, you feel unlike yourself, in the best way. It’s an out of body experience, warm and tingly, making your heart race in a way that reminds you that you’re alive, rather than makes you anxious.
When he pulls back, and you begin to trail kisses down his cheek, towards his jaw, he shakes his head slightly, letting out a breath as he guides you back.
“Not like this. Not here,” he whispers, giving your cheek one more affectionate caress, before he releases you.
Despite your disdain, regarding the end of that moment, you nod slowly.
“…Did you get food?” You murmur, and Jay nods, gesturing to his backpack.
“I see you got your necessities too?” He gestures to the stuffed animal, finally allowing himself to smile about it.
You nod, glancing down at the items in your grasp. Mirrors of him, really, in rather odd ways.
“Good.” He nods, then puts a hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the store.
“We’re close.” Jay says quietly, as unlocks the hotel room door, holding it open for you.
“To the beach?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at him, as he shuts and locks the door, nodding in response.
“Yeah. I think we can make it by sunset tomorrow, if we leave early enough,” he muses, as he takes his backpack off, sets it on the desk next to the ball and your new stuffed animal.
You sigh quietly, staring at him from your place on the bed, as he pulls out two water bottles, and the same ramen cups that you had at his apartment.
He walks to the kitchen area, and carefully searches for a pot, which he places with extreme caution on the electric stove. He adds water, turns on the heat, then turns to you.
“Do you think the shower would be too loud?” You ask suddenly, gazing at him, and he shakes his head.
“It’s still raining,” He comments idly, reassuringly.
So, you get up and head into the bathroom, shutting the door carefully. You take your time, carefully pulling out towels, discarding your clothes.
Then, you get in the shower, for the first time in several days, washing the grime off of your skin. You choose not to think about having to put your dirty clothes back on, in favor of savoring the warm water, the feeling of getting clean.
Meanwhile, Jay remains in the kitchen, quietly cooking the ramen. He smiles to himself as he looks across the room, gazing at the stuffed animal he found you with.
Black, short fur, golden eyes, long whiskers. It’s cute, and what’s even cuter is the fact that you decided you had to have it.
His eyes flick to the ball, and he hums quietly to himself, then walks towards the desk, where he picks it up. It’s grown a bit dirty, and the signature is worn. He raises a brow, then turns to his backpack.
With the ball in one hand, he unzips the front pocket of his bag, and digs around, nodding affirmatively to himself when he finds what he was hoping for.
A sharpie.
He pulls the cap off and carefully traces his signature, then just for you, adds a little cat face, with a heart on the nose.
He sets the ball back down, then puts the sharpie away, before he returns to the stove, carefully stirring the noodles.
Just when he’s finishing up with the ramen, he hears the shower turn off. He grabs bowls, carefully separating the noodles into the two dishes.
He looks up when he hears the bathroom door open, and his eyes widen when he sees you, standing in nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.
He blinks a few times, the swallows, shifting his focus. “I should have grabbed clothes for you at one of the stores, i’m sorry—“
You smile. Of course that’s his concern.
He stands still as you walk towards him, until you grab his hand, gently pulling him towards the bed.
“It’s fine,” you whisper, gently sliding your fingers into his hair. He grunts quietly, leaning into your touch, where he lets you guide him towards you, until your noses ghost against one another’s for the second time.
This time, though, he kisses you, not the other way around.
You sigh into the kiss, shuddering as his hands find your arms, cautious of the fact that you’re naked, safe from the towel.
Then, you drop it.
His hands pause when he hears the fabric his the floor, and he slowly pulls back, but his eyes stay on yours.
“Jay,” you murmur, “Can you stop trying to be respectful for once?” You laugh quietly, and he manages a small, tight-lipped smile.
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he whispers, caressing your cheek. His hand slowly drifts down your neck, hovering over your collarbone.
“I want this. I want you. I’ll tell you to stop, if need be, I promise,” You murmur, and he nods his head slowly.
His hand drifts lower, and he drags his other hand upwards, letting them both find your breasts at the same time. His brows suddenly knit together, and his hands slide back down, his arms wrapping around your form.
“You’re cold,” he whispers with concern, and you huff quietly, sliding your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself into his embrace.
“I’m okay, Jay,” you respond, gently gripping the fabric of his shirt. “And if you don’t do something, I promise the least of your issues will be my body temperature.”
He snickers, the sound low and amused, as he nods, rubbing your back. His hands slide lower, until he’s groping your ass, gently pushing you towards the bed with his body.
He got the memo. Good.
You lay down, and your eyes double in size when he suddenly sinks to his knees. He wraps his arms around your thighs, drags you towards the edge of the bed, and starts peppering kisses along your legs, from the side of your shins, up to your inner thighs.
“Is this okay?” he breathes into your skin, glancing up just long enough to see you nodding eagerly.
He presses a kiss to the mound of your cunt, then kisses your slit, before his tongue darts out, and in a smooth, warm stripe, licks between your folds, flicking over your clit.
You gasp, reaching down to tangle one hand in his hair, the other curling into the blanket beneath you. “Jay—“
He draws back, and spits directly onto your pussy, then buries his head between your thighs, spreading his saliva, adding to your already evident arousal.
“Jesus, you taste good,” he mutters against you, swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue then dipping down to prod at your entrance.
You spare a look between your legs, and holy fuck—
His eyes are shut, brows taut with focus, and he’s practically making out with your sopping cunt, the mixture of his saliva and your arousal dripping down your ass.
He slides his mouth down, then suckles his way back up, suckling gently at your clit, then a little more greedily when a moan rips from your throat.
He shifts one hand from your thigh, and gently pushes his middle finger into your clenching hole, groaning at the way you’re starting to grind against his mouth and finger. He slides a second finger into you, gently thrusting them into your needy pussy, while he continues focusing on your clit with his tongue.
“Jay, fuck, baby— i’m—“
You whimper, and Jay’s fingers curl into the plump flesh of your thigh, an instinctive response to the sound, while he pushes you closer to a climax.
“Give it to me,” he almost growls against you, his voice rasped and muffled against your slick heat.
“Jay, Jay—“ You repeat his name like a mantra, voice breaking when you finally come undone, hips rolling forward involuntarily.
Jay guides you through your orgasm, his fingers and tongue working rhythmically to draw out the pleasure.
When he feels your hand pushing against his head, he draws back, but his eyes linger on your pulsing cunt, and he hums, slowly drawing his fingers out of you.
He huffs quietly, almost in awe, as your walls squeeze around his fingers, and gently pats your pussy, as if to soothe you, but the motion makes you jolt.
Your lips part, but you’re too fucked out to say anything yet.
Jay stands, then leans over you and kisses you softly, your essence lingering on his lips.
“Stay here,” he murmurs against your mouth, then turns around, and disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he’s got a wash cloth, which seems to be damp, and he gently cleans between your legs in a way that’s borderline uncomfortable with how intimate it is, even if he was just tongue deep in your pussy.
He sets the rag on the edge of the bed, then reaches around your body as you sit up, to pull the comforter around you.
You slide your arms around his shoulders, though, and he laughs gently. “Baby, there’s food…that’s now cold,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.
“And?” you mumble, as you stroke his hair, burying your face against his shoulder, sighing into his shirt. He rubs your back, humming.
“I gotta make sure my girl is fed, yeah? So level with me, and let me get the food.”
Reluctantly, you release him, but not before stealing another kiss. He kisses you firmly, a promise to return, even if he’s not leaving your line of site.
He goes back to the stove, grabs the bowls, and dumps the contents back into the pot, turns on the heat.
“While we wait for that,” he says, voice gentle, he walks to his backpack, unzips it, and pulls out a small container.
Nutella.
DAY THREE:
You didn’t remember falling asleep.
In fact, the first thing you recalled when you woke up, was the fact that Jay had given you one of the best orgasms you’ve had in years.
Your cheeks warmed, your skin tingled like you could still physically feel the effects from what he’d done.
You were quick to realize his absence, though.
However, there was a reminder of his presence left in your arms. One you know you didn’t put there yourself.
The stuffed animal, tucked into your side.
Wrapping your head around the bits and pieces of context, like the idea of Jay choosing to tuck you in with your new plushie, you realized the shower was running.
You sat up, blinking tiredly as you pulled the comforter up to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as one hand rested on the toy next to you.
Then, you heard it. Or, him, more accurately.
A wet, repetitive sound. Gentle slaps, sharp breaths.
Your brows furrowed, and it hit you rather harsh, the realization. Jay was jerking off. In the shower.
You also realized in that moment that you had never returned the favor, after he ate you out, but he didn’t really give you the chance to.
You crawled out of bed and wandered closer to the bathroom, the sound becoming clearer with each step. You could hear it vividly, each stroke, each shake of his breath, meshed with the flowing water.
So, maybe you listened to the whole thing, until he let out a quiet, strangled noise, muffled by the shower stream. You gave it a few moments, then knocked on the door.
Meanwhile, in the shower, Jay nearly jumped out of his own skin. He hadn’t been bothered that you didn’t return the favor; he’s never been that kind of guy. That being said, that didn’t mean his dick wasn’t feeling neglected.
He’s a gentleman, though, and was driven by the very real image of you in bed, naked. He refused to let himself try to wake you, just to fuck you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine that pretty body of yours, right?
Anyways, he was startled. Like, seriously startled.
To be fair, he was just cumming to the thought of your noises and your delicious pussy—
“It’s unlocked.” He’d call, voice barely audible over the water. You spared a glance at the large window; the city is emptier than ever, and it’s raining. Again.
Jesus fucking christ. Sure, it’s typically pretty gloomy in Seattle, but raining for days straight?
You paid little to no mind to that, though, and instead pushed open the bathroom door.
“Sorry to bother,” you said, voice smooth, innocent like you hadn’t just heard some particularly lewd noises. “I uh…before we go, i’d just really like to brush my teeth.”
“Not a problem. Go for it.” Jay responded, voice thick, like he was caught.
He was.
You didn’t say that, though.
Instead, you helped yourself to the toothbrushes he snagged from the front area of the hotel, as they seemed to offer basic toiletries at the front desk.
When you reached for the handle, to turn on the water, you grinned.
“I don’t want to be too loud, or mess up your shower…can I just borrow some of your water?”
When you peaked in to wet your tooth brush, he stood, facing away from you. You were still naked, after all, and he didn’t find it exactly respectful to flaunt his slowly hardening—again—dick in your face first thing.
You held in a snicker, began brushing your teeth as you turned away from him.
Yes, you did want to brush your teeth, but more than that, you had to get a mental picture of him, post jack off.
After that unfortunate event (for him), you would get dressed, pack up, and head for what you hoped to be the final stretch of your journey to the beach, to your escape.
It had remained smooth sailing. That part was worrisome, for some reason.
With that in mind, you simply remained glad that you had made it this far.
You and Jay were walking in silence, as you’d done the last two days. It was peaceful, in an eerie way. The empty streets, the rain, the cool breezes, the quiet.
It all felt like the calm before a storm, like it was only a matter of time before the real thing showed up.
Today, you and Jay lingered a little closer to one another. His hand remained on your back, and you often found his fingers, lacing them with your own. Maybe, in some weird way, you guys had figured it out, how to cope with it all.
That being said, Jay had also seemed…tense. Again.
However, it became evident all too quickly that it was for a completely different reason this time.
Clearly, his shower session didn’t cut it.
You’re assuming so, given the very obvious hard-on that’s prominently pushing against his pants.
Poor guy.
You spare several glances, not concerned with subtlety at this point. You’re pretty sure he’s well aware that you knew what he was getting up to this morning, and regardless of that, you wouldn’t be opposed to him knowing that you’re hoping to feel more than just his fingers and tongue- amazing as they were.
Looking ahead, there’s a lingering smirk on your face, the knowledge of his not-so-little predicament bringing you some sort of twisted joy.
So, you decide to have fun with it.
First, you walked ever so slightly faster than him. Just enough to be in front of him. When you could feel his gaze—because it’s always intense, the way he watches your movements—you tug your shorts up, and definitely higher than necessary.
Jay notices. His eyes flick down to your hands as they hike the shorts up, and he swallows, taking in the way they hug your backside, the way he can just barely catch a glimpse of the crease where your ass meets your thighs.
He swallows. Thickly. His cock twitches in his pants, and he thinks back to last night, when he was groping handfuls of the plump flesh.
He doesn’t do anything though. Why would he? He’s a respectful, patient man, and he’s just trying to get the both of you to something that resembles even a little bit of safety.
Secondly, you walked ahead for sometime. Maybe half an hour, at most, just long enough to feel your shorts finally un-wedge themselves from between your ass cheeks.
You’re praying the wedgie was worth it.
You look up at the sky, dim, but not as gloomy as it has been. Then, you come to a sudden stop.
Behind you, Jay was busy averting his gaze from your backside, internally begging himself to get it the fuck together.
When he bumps into you, and you stumble forward slightly, not-so-accidentally dropping your stuffed animal, he blinks.
He presses his lips together in a firm, set line, and his eyes bulge when you lean down.
And third, you make a point to push back against him as you reach down to grab your beloved black cat plushie.
His breath hitches. His nostrils flare.
It’s taking every fiber of his being to not grab you by the hips and hump you like a fucking dog—
Then, you stand up and keep walking.
He’s going to lose his mind, he thinks.
By your fourth teasing advance, Jay caught onto your little game. His dick is throbbing in his pants, and he’s still thinking about your little acts, the way your ass felt against his dick, how all he could imagine was sliding his cock between your cheeks, dipping the head into your sopping cunt.
Fuck. The way you squeezed around his fingers.
An hour or so after that last incident, the rain starts. In this particular part of the city, there’s hardly any awnings for you to find purchase under, so, he pulls you into a random store, of which you find is an abandoned boutique.
You wander through the store while Jay pulls water bottles and snacks out of his bag, reorganizing some of the contents within his backpack.
He glances over his shoulder every now and again, watching the way you trace the details on some of the clothes.
“You should grab something, if you want it,” he comments idly, zipping up his backpack. He discretely reaches down to readjust his boner, eyes screwing shut.
You end up grabbing a sweater. It’s material is thin and soft, not too heavy, but enough that it’ll knock the chill of the occasional breezes as you and Jay walk through the city.
The clothing is cute, but not particularly practical for what you and Jay are doing, so you don’t bother with most of it.
When you return to Jay, he’s eating a protein bar, holding water in his other hand. You sit down in front of him, on your knees, and grin when he takes a sip of water, a droplet dribbling down his chin.
You smirk.
When you reach out to wipe it away, in a particularly promiscuous manner, he grabs your wrist.
“Stop.” He says firmly. “We are too fucking close to risk it, yeah? Just…wait.”
Theres an unspoken promise laced in his tone.
A promise to fuck you?
You fucking hope so, because the way he’s looking at you meshed with the sternness of his voice is incredibly arousing, and you’re still craving more from him after last night.
Nevertheless, you guys “refuel”, use the bathroom, then leave, walking through a lighter drizzle now that the rain has calmed.
It’s mid day, by now, you assume you haven’t had phone signal since the start of this mess, and your phones been dead since yesterday, anyways.
Another hour or so passes, before your next stop.
Jay gently grabs your hand, coming to his own stop, which makes you pause as well. He glances up at the label on a small building, the looks at you.
It’s a studio.
He pulls you into said building, and once the door is shut, he talks lowly.
“I used to come here, record music—“
Your gasp of interest makes him grin, but he shakes his head dismissively. “I never published anything, or even really did much. Just some sessions here and there, but I did come often to get some peace and quiet,” He explains as he guides you down a hall, and pushes open the door to a recording room.
He puts his backpack down in the rolling chair, then turns to you, gently taking the baseball and your stuffed animal.
He looks down at the cat, raising a brow. “Have you named it yet?”
“Jongseong.”
“What?” He looks up at you, confused by the fact that you called him by his government name.
“The cat. His name is Jongseong,” you clarify, and Jay breaks into a laugh as realization dawns on him.
“I see.”
He taps the nose of the cat, then sets it down on top of his bag, as well as the baseball.
“I don’t get what we’re doing in here,” you then say, tilting your head at him. “Like, did you just want to see it before we leave, or?”
He steps forward, reaching out to grab you by the waist. He pulls you in, slowly pushing your new sweater off of your shoulders.
“I’m fucking dying, honey,” he murmurs, and your eyes widen with realization.
Oh, fuck.
“Yeah?” You whisper, reaching out to drag your hands down his sides, letting one trail down to the bulge that has yet to soften within the confines of his jeans.
You bite your lip as you palm him, feeling him up through the denim, which is too thick of a barrier for you to really feel more than the obvious fact that it’s hard.
“Wait, baby,” he murmurs, gently pulling you into the recording box itself. He shuts the door, then turns to you, and pulls you into a searing kiss.
His hands roam your body, and he doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning your denim shorts, pushing them down your legs.
He hums against your lips, groping your ass with more greed than he did last night. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling with need as you melt into the kiss, letting his tongue dance with yours.
It’s nasty and desperate, the way you’re kissing, bodies rolling rhythmically into one another’s.
His fingers dip under your shirt, and he pulls away from the kiss just to pull both your top and bra off in one fell swoop, leaving you in nothing but your panties.
“Fuck,” he breathes, hands trailing up your sides, until he’s groping your boobs, his hands gentle, mindful of his strength.
Your brows are furrowed, and you’re internally freaking out. You’re supposed to keep quiet while this man—hopefully—pounds you into next week? Right, right.
“Not fair,” you whisper, and he tilts his head, sliding his hands up to your cheeks, as he leans down to kiss his way up your breasts, to your lips.
He kisses you, open-mouthed and sensual. “What’s not fair?” He whispers back.
You don’t dare mention your concern regarding your ability to be quiet, because you refuse to pass up this opportunity.
You reluctantly pulling your fingers out of his hair, and instead tug at his shirt. “I’m damn near naked, and you’re fully clothed,” You murmur.
He hums. “Where are my manners? I’m sorry, honey,” He almost coos, before he pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re already working at his jeans.
He caresses your hair, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as you yank down his jeans, mouth watering when you see his dick, strained and twitching through the fabric of his underwear.
“Can I?” You whisper, looking up at him. His fingers caress your cheek, and he tilts your chin up.
“Say please.” He purrs.
“Please, Jay,” you respond with quiet, but honest need, and he nods slowly.
When you tug his underwear down, you take him in, naked before you. He’s fucking gorgeous, all tanned, honey-toned skin, chiseled slopes, and his dick is hard, throbbing, precum making his head look slick.
You look up at him, his hand lingering on your cheek, looking for guidance. You’d happily suck him off, but you wouldn’t be opposed to him fucking you right here, right now.
“Shit. I don’t…” He sighs, brows pinched together. “I don’t have any condoms, we can’t-“
“I have an IUD.”
He blinks, and when you nod reassuringly, he nods back, silently communicating with you. It’s okay. This is okay.
“Come here,” he murmurs, gently pulling you to your feet. He pushes you against the wall, and the foam-like material is soft against your hands as you brace yourself, arching your back.
He grips your hips, starts kissing your shoulder, moving down your back, until he sinks to his knees, and yanks your panties down.
He grips your ass, spreading your cheeks, his eyes fixed on the growing arousal making a mess of your pretty pussy.
You gasp when he dives in, burying his tongue between your folds, licking long, thick stripes from your clit to your ass, like he didn’t get enough last night, like he’s been craving this all day.
Has he?
You can only assume so, with the way he moans into your cunt, fucking his tongue into you, licking up your slick.
“Jay,” you whimper breathily, fingers digging into the wall. “Jay—“
“Honey?” He pauses, “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he murmurs, rubbing your lower back.
“The— the noise,” you whisper, letting out a shaky breath. “I can’t…”
Can’t shut the fuck up.
And while dying as he fucks you sounds like the best way to go out, you refuse to not have this man for at least a little longer.
Jay hums, then slowly stands, kissing his way up your back. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reassure you, or respond at all.
He guides his cock between your thighs, rubbing the head between your lips, nudging your clit with each slow thrust.
Then, when he slides into you, he fucking whimpers.
Your eyes screw shut, and you let out a shaky, broken noise, an inaudible plea, fear and arousal consuming you.
He starts slow, fucking deep into your sopping, needy pussy, and gradually builds up to rough, calculated thrusts.
You cover your mouth with your hands, and Jay supports you by holding your hips, dragging you back and forth on his dick, to meet his thrusts.
There’s wet smacking noises, loud and filthy, but what’s even more nasty?
He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and kisses your shoulder, then lets out a loud, raw moan as his tip nudges your cervix.
“It’s soundproof, honey,” he whispers, “I—“ He grunts, thrusting into you, his fingers digging into your hips to help him stable himself.
“I forgot about this place,” he explains through strained noises and heavy breaths, “But we’re safe here…and I want to hear you,” He slides one hand up your back, then wraps it around your throat, gently guiding you to stand up more straight, arched against his frontside, while he fucks into you.
His other hand slides between your legs, and he rubs your clit, thrusting into you, kissing your cervix gently with each thrust, just barely nudging it with the tip of his cock; not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you just how deep he is.
“Fuck,” you cry out, a single tear sliding down your cheek, and he gently kisses the tear.
“Don’t cry, honey,” he whispers, “It feels good, doesn’t it? I know, I know,” He soothes you, whimpers ripping from your throat, as you finally let go of the fear.
He gently pushes you back against the wall, lets go of your throat, and caresses your hair, before his hand returns to your hip.
You lean your weight into the wall, moaning as he rubs your clit and thrusts into you, his own noises meshing with yours.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back as you’re beginning to hurdle towards an orgasm.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “Taking me so fucking good, being such a good girl—“ He’s cut off by his own moan, and he speeds up both his thrusts and the circles he’s rubbing on your clit.
“I’m so close,” you whimper, brows furrowed with pleasure as Jay continues pounding into you, his pelvis smacking against your ass.
He hums greedily, the sound bordering on a low growl. “Cum for me, honey,” he pleas lowly, feeling his own orgasm approaching, his head falling back for only a moment before he lifts his head.
He needs to see you. He needs to take in how fucking sexy you are, how attracted he is to you.
“Jay, Jay—“ You whine, gasping as your orgasm rips through your body, your skin tingling and warm, your vision going white for a moment as he pounds into you.
He only slows his motions on your clit when you start muttering that it’s sensitive, and then, he grabs your hips, and his thrusts become harder, more desperate.
He moans, his jaw slack as he thrusts into you. “Fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum,” He breathes.
You look over your shoulder, managing to get a decent view at his expression, how he is so utterly focused on the way his dick disappears between your thighs, the way your ass recoils with each thrust.
“Holy—“ His eyes roll back, and his hips stutter, his thrusts slowing to a stop. He leans against your back as he cums, shooting ropes of hot semen into you, filling you with more than just his dick, now.
He lets out a breath as he kisses your shoulder, and wraps his arms around your middle, hugging you from behind. You lean into him, making a quiet noise when his cock slips out of you.
You grimace at the feeling of his cum sliding down your thighs, and he huffs a sheepish laugh.
“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, kissing your cheek softly.
“It just feels weird,” you giggle quietly, shaking your head. “And it’s okay. Didn’t want you to pull out anyways.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Fuck.”
After cleaning up to the best of your abilities, Jay suggested that you both take a small rest here, in the safety of the soundproof room.
So, you’re leaning into his side, fidgeting with your ball, while he sips on water, his eyes closed as he relaxes against the wall.
As you look down at the item in your hands, you realize that the signature is no longer worn.
In fact, it’s brand new, and has a new addition. The outline of a cat, with a heart in place of the nose.
Suddenly, your eyes are watery. The ball means so much to you because it’s from him. Maybe you subconsciously knew that he’d become part of your life, from the jump.
Even if that wasn’t the case at the time, now, you can happily confirm that the ball is important solely because it’s from him. It represents how you met, it represents his passion for baseball, it represents the comfort the mere thought of his presence has brought you in the last three, horrifying days.
“You signed it again.”
“Yeah. I did,” he murmurs, peeling his eyes open. “I did it when you were in the shower, the other day.”
Staring down at the signature, you sniffle, then look up at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do.” He whispers, an ode to his refusal to credit himself, because of course he’d brush it off.
Rolling your eyes, you lean in, capturing his lips in a loving kiss.
It’s storming.
Like, properly storming. The rain comes down so harshly that the droplets almost sting, lightning strikes scarily close, and thunder booms so loudly it startles you every time.
Jay walks next to you, holding your hand. In his backpack, now, is your baseball and cat, an attempt to protect them from the weather.
You can see the beach, now, in the distance. Your heart is heavy, and there’s this feeling of dread, like something’s not quite right.
Jay feels it too. The atmosphere is heavy, and there’s this haunting sense of doom.
As soon as you make it to the sand, you stop dead in your tracks.
Hundreds of bodies, missing limbs, clothes, faces. They’re mauled and some are even slightly decomposed.
In the distance, a horn blares loudly, and you look ahead at the same time as Jay.
The boats are so far from the port that you can hardly make them out, but both of you realize one very unfortunate, critical detail.
The death angels, or whatever they were calling it on the news? They’d clearly been here. They’d been hunting down every single being who tried to get on the boats, and now?
There’s several on each boat, and there it is once again. That shrieking, high pitched noise they make.
You and Jay are met with a very grim realization.
You won’t be leaving Seattle.
You look at him, he looks at you.
Then, with unspoken communication, you both turn away from the gruesome scene, to face the very place you’d been trying to escape.
“…Looks like it’s you and me, honey.” He says, squeezing your hand.
warnings. profanity, y/n caught peeping, dom heeseung- he gets mean, masturbation, oral, rough unprotected sex. minors DNI.
wc. 5000
a/n. 1000 followers, thank you🥹 accept my excuse to write filth🤍
Crush(follow up)—>
“aren’t we too old to play this game?”
“ahh don’t act so pretentious, you’re just mad that it’s your turn.” your friend replies in a snarky tone, dangling an accusing finger in your face.
“fine, whatever.” you mutter, feeling the pressure of judgemental stares burning across your face. “dare.”
an orchestra of girlish ‘oooooo’ sounds burst around you, a telltale sign of immaturity.
“scandalous.” one of your friends says, filing her nails into perfect oval shapes. “I have the perfect dare for you.”
she shares a knowing look around the circle you all sit in. tapping her chin with the crystal nail board file in her hand deviously. “sneak into Heeseung’s room and bring back a pair of boxers.. blue ones!”
“what?!”
she smirks, shrugging and directing her chin toward the stairs leading up to the bedroom in question. “you chose dare.”
“don’t stress too much about it.” your friend whispers low enough for the group behind you to not pick up on. leading you up the stairs, she fathoms up an excuse that you may get lost and end up in her parents bedroom instead of her older brother’s. “Heeseung went out a while ago with Jay, he shouldn’t be back until later.”
“I know where his room is..”
“you looked worried,” she stops at the top of the stairs with you, clutching onto your forearm. “don’t let them get to you, I really don’t care that you have a crush on my brother.”
“I d-don’t” you start to splutter, grateful that the hallway light is turned off, masking the heat rising up your cheeks with shadows.
“seriously, it’s okay. I’m used to it.” she pats your shoulder, directing a thumb back down the stairs. “try not to get lost!”
“I don’t even like Heeseung like that..” you mumble to yourself, calmly striding toward his bedroom door. “what did she even mean…used to what?!”
the door before you draws a cringeful expression across your features, adorned with a thin metal plaque that says ‘BEWARE OF DOG’ in bright orange letters against a black background. “god, whose yard did he steal this from?”
“what a dork..” it’s mostly to keep yourself level headed, unable to fight the tremble ripping down to the tips of your fingers as you graze the bedroom’s door handle. “he’s not home.”
taking a deep breath, you nod to reassure yourself, you really have nothing to worry about.
unless you get caught, of course.
Heeseung’s room is— as you should have expected, a disaster. unmade bed, crooked posters strewn all over four walls, some half peeled off. chains and jeans pile up on the floor surrounded by clunky skater sneakers and two boards.
his musk wafts through the air, tickling a pathway up your nostrils; stirring memories, memories you tried to forget.
memories of Heeseung coming home dripping in sweat, chugging down water with a heated gaze shadowed by the fan his eyelashes create where he stood. sip after sip without breaking a trance-like stare, slicing through your soul to expose secrets you try to keep to yourself.
secrets you aren’t even willing to share with your closest friends— Heeseung’s sister sat across from you giggling over her current boy of the week; too caught up in flirtatious banter to notice your discomfort. sweat itched at your nape, resorting to your anxious habit of picking at your nails to contain your nerves.
Heeseung noticed though, thoroughly enjoying how your leg began to bounce the longer he took to finish off the glass of water forming condensation in his grip. foggy moisture seeped down his wrist, trickles streamed down his throat. all of it grabbing your attention as you pretended to stretch and flitter a glance around the room.
even as he tapped off the glass and dried off his pout with the back of his hand, he continued to burn holes into your side. adding more taunt where he stood, displaying an act of contemplation by tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“hmmm” he murmured, shifting from foot to foot to aid his next decision. snapping his thumb and index finger, the light bulb turned on in his mind igniting flames throughout his iris; glinting bright and lively even as his eyelids lowered, fitting you with a lazy look.
“ah, there it is.” Heeseung said- to himself, despite your less than discrete stare. he smirked, toying with you by never breaking eye contact as he moved closer in slow motion. beads of sweat lined his forehead, pouring down faster with each step he took.
“excuse me.” he said flatly, averting his attention to the area just behind you. bending forward, the top of his shirt grazed your nose, instantly smacked with the scent of lingering body wash. hints of woodsy undertones masked by a fresh aroma of dark berries; tickling up high enough to reach your brain.
Heeseung huffed, dipping in closer until your lips pressed to his shoulder, involuntarily puckering against the damp white cotton t-shirt clinging to his warm skin; leaving residue of your natural tone pink lip gloss to stain the heavily bleached material.
“thought I had lost this.” he grinned, passing a cartoon keychain between his fingers.
“uh..” biting down on the sides of your tongue, you sank deeper into your seat. stuck on a dollop of sweat bubbled at the tip of Heeseung’s nose, hanging precariously, begging to be licked away.
he blinked, slowly returning to your gaze, tilting to the side just enough for the bead of sweat to drop; drop and land upon your upper lip, hot enough to expel steam and cause your mouth to tremble.
“I’ll be going to my room now.” with that, Heeseung spun on his foot, strutting out of the kitchen, out of your line of sight.
that memory painted the depths of your mind, screaming and cursing to yourself as you drove home.
“what did he even mean! going to his room?!? was I supposed to follow him?!?”
and now, standing in Heeseung’s bedroom, dragging your fingers across his unkempt bedding, you ask yourself again-
“what did he mean!” you sigh, plopping onto his bed. engulfed by pillows coated in his scent. a scent that’s lodged itself deep within your sense, so much so that you recognize the moment Heeseung steps foot into the room now.
“who cares anyway.” you grunt, ignoring the ‘I care’ your subconscious responds with.
blue boxers, that’s what you’re here for. not to reminisce a failed crush that would never lead to more than mysterious glances and one sided lust.
the problem is, Heeseung has lines upon lines of drawers. most you find filled with mangas and porn, buried beneath old textbooks and skateboard magazines. growing more frustrated with yourself as you keep pausing to look through each item and lose track of time.
“don’t worry about it, feel better dude.”
Heeseung’s rich voice reaches your ears, followed by heavy footsteps ascending down the hallway.
“fuck! shit fuckfuck!!” you curse, scanning the bedroom with quick lightning speed. the best option 5 feet away-- to hide inside of Heeseung’s closet.
holding your breath, you gingerly step inside, careful to shut the door just enough to not make a sound as Heeseung’s bedroom door closes behind him noisily.
he trudges in listlessly, turning his head side to side with a bored look. stopping abruptly as something near the closet catches his eye, a white t-shirt..
seemingly pleased, Heeseung picks up the garment between two fingers, striding over to his bed. he sighs, smirking and turning the shirt in his hold, stopping to admire a part of it.
the part still carrying your lip stain from months ago. never once washed after that day, Heeseung found it cute at first. cute until he remembered the way your thighs clenched together, the shortness of your breath, and each nervous look you snuck toward him.
“cute..” he says to himself, pushing back to settle against the wall. Heeseung’s lips protrude in thought, setting the shirt next to himself to unzip his jeans.
shit. shit shit shit.
you should look away, you shouldn’t continue to watch him shimmying out of his boxers through a small crack with your forehead perched on the doorframe.
blue boxers rest on the middle of his thighs, shoving up his shirt enough for his throbbing length to breathe freely. you have to bite down on your lip, grab at the wall, whatever you can find surrounding you to stay stable.
Heeseung licks a trail of spit up his palm, hissing and wrapping a fist around the base of his length as his other hand lowers, smoothing and rubbing the tip of his cock. pre-cum smears, mixing in with saliva, pushed lower to circle and tug around himself.
the worst and best part are really his reactions to each motion. a tight furrow between his eyebrows, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, and speckles of pink rising from his throat to the apple of his cheeks.
his throat, on full display, huffing out short breathy moans as he builds a speed around himself. his hips lift every now and then, rolling up to fuck into his palm with more urgency. tossing his head side to side when he squeezes at the base torturously.
he’s toying with himself, serving just enough pleasure to make it feel good and fill his balls. enough to fool himself once again with the idea of getting off, only to halt and grunt, work himself to a painful orgasm the longer he resists.
heat tickles throughout his belly, lowering to ride down to the tip of his shaft. glistening with a thin sheen of spit and pre-cum aiding to each glide under his pumping fist.
he’s drawing up, hips rutting side to side in search of something to bury himself in. eyeing the shirt next to him, he squeaks, breathlessly moaning your name. rutting up faster with his knees bent, shoving his socked cover toes deeper into the bed.
“fuck..” you near cry, buckling at your knees; weakened and exhausted from only watching, itching through your palms like a dog in heat to be the one stroking his length.
“fuck, I’m such a creep for this..” rubbing your thighs together like matches, you stumble back, gasping and knocking into a row of hung clothes. metal clatters, and the airy sound of wads of clothing smacking onto the floor circle around you. all of that coming to a stop as the closet door rips open.
“what the fuck?!”
Heeseung’s shadow looms over you, tucked back into his blue boxers, secured under his jeans. frazzled and infuriated where he stands with his eyes nearly bulged out.
“I— oh crap..” you stutter, holding your hands up defenselessly. “I can explain!”
“you’ve been in here this entire time?!?” he exclaims, pupils blown. pushing away and shaking his head as he rips at tufts of hair. “WERE YOU WATCHING ME?”
“Heeseung! no no! really, listen!!” you crawl, stumbling on weak ankles to scamper after him. “it was just a dare!”
“a dare to hide in my closet?!” he’s pissed, hissing shouts between gritted teeth.
“no! I..I—I..”
crossing his arms, he stands intimidating above you appearing disgusted by your stuttering, fixing you with a piercing glare. “what did you see, huh?”
“n-nothing..” you lie, you never were good at lying though..
he scoffs, tongue clicking loudly against the backs of his teeth. nodding and rolling his neck around. “you have to show me whatever you saw.”
“huh?”
“don’t play dumb.” Heeseung scolds you with a condescending tone. “you hid in my closet and watched me jerk off. you know what that makes you?”
“I didn’t! I didn’t watch!” you scramble to deny, clutching onto his thighs to pull yourself up. he sets his hand on your shoulder, shifting to leverage his weight there.
“you did, just like a no good creep.” reading shame written across your face, he leers, dipping his thumb into your clavicle until you squirm. “unless you want me to let my sister know what a filthy little pervert her friend is, you better do as I say.”
“Hee, please..don’t be like this!” you plead, grimacing from his fingers sinking into your shoulder. “what do you want me to do!”
“what? you’re the only one who gets to have a free show?” Heeseung smirks, aiming his chin to direct you toward his bed. “show me exactly what you saw. don’t make me repeat myself again.”
his menacing low tone makes your spine shrivel, silently nodding as you clamber onto his bed. eyeing the t-shirt still laid on his pillow, Heeseung follows your line of sight, mumbling a curse under his breath.
“I knew you were lying.” climbing on with you, he moves closer using his knees. nodding for you to sit against the wall just as he had. “your trembling thighs gave you away anyway.”
“I didn’t…see everything.” you did, but something about building onto your lie added thrill to your current predicament.
when Heeseung said he’d be going to his room in a suggestive manner, you stayed put. rooted to your seat as your mind whirled with scenarios that could unfold if you followed after him. scenarios you’d continue to create for months, daydreaming of landing yourself in this position. sprawled on his bed, filled with fear, excitement, exploding nerves, heat and desire.
“oh yeah?” he mocks, grinning, smoothing his palms up your bare calves to your knees. “like what you saw? like what you heard?”
he knows you heard him moaning your name, pummeling his fist imagining you convulsing around him. begging and bursting into tears; urging him to slow down, and fuck you harder at the same time.
pushing against your knees, he doesn’t give you much time to respond. pinching up your inner thighs until he can tease at the lining of your pajama shorts. “Hello Kitty pjs..”
biting back a smile, he motions for you to hurry up, tapping his wrist to say you’re wasting his time. “exactly how I did it.”
“oka-okay..” in a quick action, you’re shimmying out of your pjs and panties. the man before you freezing, expecting more of a fight. a shy look and squished together thighs licks arousal through his gut, painfully aching as you duck your chin to hide the embarrassment staining your cheeks.
Heeseung never managed to finish getting off with you interrupting his alone time. he’s hard as a rock, trapped against his abdomen throbbing pitifully. tense and rageful, more frustrated by your much too slow movements.
“is that what I did?” he questions with no confusion, continuing to speak in a stern manner. Heeseung jerks his head, jaw tight to keep up a strong image. “come on, what are you waiting for.”
slowly, you stretch open, hitting him with the visual of your naked wet core. the bedding beneath you turns darker, pooled with wetness trickling down past your rim.
Heeseung has to swallow, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down to quill his dry throat. he gestures for you to continue on, hypnotized by your fingers inching closer and closer to your mound.
he’s struck, in awe watching your pussy folds part open. fat clit ready to be abused, riper than fresh fruit, dripping with sweet honey. his fist slams into the bed, nodding with urgency. “touch yourself, do it like I did.”
you listen, biting on your lip with your skin gathering between your brows. frustrated beyond belief to only just now get to touch yourself. ragged breaths leave your lips faster, trembling against your vocal chords with whimpered moans.
“god..” Heeseung’s neck drops, licking away the drool that’s dribbling out past the seam of his lips. heart shattering as he watches you circle your entrance, tapping and prodding two finger tips in just to feel your pulse speed up. “fuck..”
growing confidence and losing yourself to the pleasure, you arch, completely giving him the full view of your cunt. stroking side to side at your clit until a loud embarrassing moan flies free from your lips. Heeseung’s distraught hungry demeanor encourages your fingers to work faster. obscene wet splash-like sounds boom around you. throwing your head back, you hit one of his pillows, greeted by the scent that led you to this moment once again.
“I’m..close..” you announce, bitterly, not wanting this to end. pushed faster to the tip of your climax by the image before you of your biggest desire falling apart, drooling with his jaw hung. cock twitching under his shirt, begging to fuck you with a wanton gaze.
a muffled growl passes through his throat, hunched forward in a trance watching your hole spurt another glob of wetness out. opening and closing deliciously, rolling tremors up his thighs with each contraction shown off. “your little holes begging for me.”
another twitch of your hips confirms how much you want him. writhing close enough for the scent of your wetness to infiltrate his senses, Heeseung topples over. face hovering right above your cunt like a man starved, finally finding a meal after months of voyage.
“Heeseung..touch me” you shift, unveiling how much dampness has gathered under your ass. pouring wet like a fountain, squeezing at nothing but air.
“say please,” he smirks, grinding the backs of his teeth together to keep his tough shell intact. just as desperate and if not more needy with impatience to fuck you, fill you to the brim with his cock.
“please please! can’t wait anymore!” you sound even prettier begging, watery with tears threatening the rims of your eyes. reaching grabby hands for him to come closer, to give you what you want.
“pretty pretty pretty please,” licking his lips, he cages in on your face. the tip of his tongue traces across your plump upper lip.
“pleasepleaseplease! pretty please!”
Heeseung sits back, smacking your hand away from your core. licking between his fingers before taking over your position. he rubs circles just as you had, better even. firmer, rougher and more commanding. forearm flexing, lined with angry veins from his meaty hand to the crook of his elbow.
“such a dirty girl, always staring at me. even sneaking into my room to watch me.” he teases, sliding up and down between your folds. “is that how badly you want me? no decency to even ask, creep around instead hoping to get caught.”
it’s humiliating how much you wither and grind against his palm. babbling on about how you aren’t a creep, you’re not a dirty girl; earning smack after smack on your pussy with each denial.
“you’re so tight..” Heeseung glides the tips of two fingers inside, much like you had. “wanna feel you struggle to stretch around me. is that what you want?”
the more questions he asks feel more and more like a jeer, poking fun of you to your face in your weakest moment. left with no choice but to admit the truth if you want to get off. “wa-wanna feel you, feel you f-fuck me.”
Heeseung’s mouth goes numb, unable to control the amount of saliva coating his tongue. wanting to maul your cunt and feel your thighs clamp around him, strangle him until he can’t breathe properly.
“gonna fuck you, punish you being a bad girl.” he goes on patronizing you, using the act to set aside how badly he needs to feel you. fighting back from violently licking strips up your pretty cunt until you scream for him.
Heeseung’s parting open your thighs again, pushing at the backs of your knees until you hitch up enough. ass raised off his bed letting out mournful little whimpers, huffing his name out in broken parts.
“seung..” you can’t stop whining, embarrassed by how he admires your hole, lifting your lower half enough for you to watch as well. becoming obsessed with the flutter and push, his face dips in closer; the tip of his nose gliding in a circle around your clit. meticulously moving lower and lower until his lips pucker at your entrance.
“fuck..” Heeseung groans, breathing in your heady scent. kissing and pulling back to watch your hole spasm, empty, calling for him to use over and over again.
he can’t wait anymore, unhinging his jaw as he leans in, licking a fat stripe from your delicate hole to your clit; sucking a way up your glossy seam with a long drag of his tongue. Heeseung swirls around your clit expertly, pleased by your hands burying into his hair. clutching and pulling waves of pleasure down to his cock. he ruts against the bed, firmly gripping onto your hips for control.
slammed back down, he works with your circling hips, grunting with each pass on your stiff clit. using extra force to stop your incessant movements and hips from slipping free, he locks around your bundle of nerves. suckling and paying extra attention to your moans amplified with each pointed stroke of his tongue along the sides.
bucking up, you set a grind against his hot mouth. crying out and ripping bunches of his hair to a painful point, evident by the way Heeseung’s eyes clench shut, swallowing down hissed moans.
“fuck! oh fuck Hee—“ breaking off into a repeated round of pleads, his mouth lowers, pushing past your tightened entrance to curl his tongue deep inside of you. nose shoved against your clit wiggling side to side with his tongue lodged as far as his jaw will allow. “I-I can’t!”
you buckle, slapping your thighs together against his hold only to be pushed up higher to accommodate his mouth. relentlessly he buries his tongue in, stealing an orgasm out of you faster than you can process. mind hazy and sensitive as you attempt to move away from his lips wrapped around your clit.
“n-no more..can’t, no m-ore.” your protest falls on deaf ears, ignoring you as he litters kisses over your mound. Heeseung sits up, slapping the sides of your thighs. the tip of his nose obscenely wet, dripping from the tip with your arousal.
“oh you can’t?” he pouts, large glossy eyes innocent as he blinks slowly. “you can’t?? after hiding in my closet and begging me to fuck you?? you can’t?”
“Heeseung..” you whimper brokenly, too exhausted to mutter anything more.
“aww” he chides, kissing the backs of his teeth. “Heeseunnggggg.”
he laughs arrogantly between lapping his upper lip clean, cupping your center to dig the heel of his palm against your clit and watch you cry harder.
“Heeseung Heeseung Heeseung,” he repeats, mimicking your strained tone. a playful smirk lifts one corner of his mouth, leisurely toying with your heat. “say you can’t anymore, but your pussy won’t stop rubbing against me. a creep, and a liar?”
“no..not..” your teeth chatter, embarrassed that you can’t even give him a proper reply. incoherence taking over your sense, the only thought filling your head to get fucked.
Heeseung’s smirk grows at that, rolling two fingers down, he circles your entrance, smearing the release between his digits. “I can fuck you deeper than your useless little fingers, that’s what you want, right? want me to make you cum, fucked full of my cock. bet you thought about it, watching me jerk off.. wishing it was you.”
“I—I…n-no..” you try to say, breaking off as Heeseung licks his palm clean. twisting the bottom of his t-shirt off, he throws it aside. the tip of his cock rages against his stomach trapped in his waistband, red and swollen. “oh fuck.”
“what was that now?” he sneers, wiggling a finger for you to sit up. “come here.”
obediently you lift without hesitation, coughing to mask your embarrassment. Heeseung fakes a pout, capturing your cheeks with one hand. the pads of his fingers sink into the hollows, forcing your mouth to jut out as he continues to jeer. “what would my sister say if she found out you were in here? drooling, covered in snot and tears, pussy making a fucking mess on my bed.”
“please, d-don’t tell her..” you pant as he brushes against your lips, sucking your wheezed breath away.
“you gonna be a good girl and listen to me now?” he nods your head for you, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. neediness and lust paints your mouth, swallowed and sucked around. a rushed heated kiss loosening your head to hang limblessly from your neck, passing thirsty moans between the swipes of his lips.
“please,” you pant, swallowing dryly. “please, wanna be so good for you. wanna be the best for you.”
“I know, my cute good girl..” he coo’s, slapping your hip until you flip around onto your knees. Heeseung whips a hand across your ass, hard, stinging in the aftermath. “yeah, just like that. show me how pretty that pussy looks from the back.”
despite your fingers wrinkling his bedding, and your waist trembling from another slap to your bottom, you nod. arching forward pushing your ass out further, curving your hips wider to space out an area between your legs for him.
Heeseung audibly swallows behind you, the click and clack of his belt and zipper chills up your spine. face dropping lower to catch a glimpse of his naked flexed thighs. his fist pumping up and down, spreading excess amounts of pre-cum to coat his length.
shifting closer, he drags his dick through your glistening folds. cursing and grunting behind you about how it feels so good, feels so right. “so fucking wet, dripping down to your knees.”
choking out a cough, you duck, burying the side of your face in his bed to hide your shame. he’s right, lewd drops of wetness stream down your inner thighs. disgustingly aroused, your hole pulses, kissing at his tip eagerly with each pass.
“what was that again? you can’t, right?” he laughs, going stir crazy from each ripple your ass gives upon making contact with his hips.
“please, I’m g-good…good gi—“ you whimper again, cut off by Heeseung’s hips ramming forward. burying inside of you for the first time, deep and stretched full. better than any stretch you’ve experienced.
he fucks vigorously, clapping against the backs of your thighs and ass. jerking your knees to move forward until you’re gripping for dear life onto the edge of his bed, muffling drawn out screams by biting at his blanket. “fuckfuck!”
Heeseung only fucks you deeper, gaining power as you lose yours, burying his dick into you over and over. he can’t tell what’s better, watching your ass bounce sinking up and down on his wet length, or your adorable whimpers, stammering his name out like a broken record.
“so good, best pussy I’ve ever had.” he grits out while moaning, leaning over your back to grab a fistful of your hair and tug your dipped in back against his chest. he bites at your jaw, focusing on your eyes rolling around as he fucks you. “this what you wanted, huh?”
Heeseung shakes your head, pulling roughly on your scalp with a merciless grip. “needed, always w-wanted you.”
“fuck!” letting go of your hair, he circles your waist. thighs burning as he fucks into you with more force, throttling up hard enough to bruise your ass. “been wanting this, wanted to fuck you for so long. always staring at me like such an innocent slut, making me picture you while I cum all over my fist, is that right?”
you give him no more than breathless pants, eyebrows furrowed together as he hits deeper and deeper inside of you. the repetitive motion reaching past your sanity, split open on his length over and over again. he’s too deep, throbbing fiercely, pushing your walls to the limit. his balls smack against you obscenely, exuding lewd sounds between your bodies; disgusting and brain numbing.
“wanna feel you squeeze around me, milk my cock dry.” he puffs hotly, nibbling on your earlobe. fingers spider their way to your clit adding more anticipation and curling arousal licking through your gut. he taps on your bundle of nerves, pressing down in a torturous mean way.
“Hee!” you jolt, ass clapping back against his hips and stomach much too noisily. gurgling moans between your wailed cries, he grunts, slapping his free hand over your mouth.
“shh, you want everyone to hear?” more determined to make you cum, Heeseung rolls your clit between two fingers. working his hips with renewed vigor to thrust into you harder and faster. each slide of his cock fills your insides, shaping your cunt to fit his size and ruin you for anyone else. “so fucking cute taking my cock, crying and still begging for more like a good girl should.”
even with your mouth covered, his bed creaks and squeaks loudly. muffled ‘yesyesyesyesyes!’ spew out all over his palm, tapping your clit just right following each tightened clamp around his size. Heeseung grunts, licking up your cheek and hissing as you squeeze around him screaming under his hand.
“so. fucking. good.” he emphasizes with hard powerful thrusts, gritting his teeth against your forehead. hips stilling and twitching behind you. his eyelashes flutter, letting out a guttural whimper by your hairline. “there you fucking go, giving me all of that pussy.”
Heeseung has to sigh, months of wet dreams and watching his cum spill down the shower drain could never compare to this. not as he lets you drop forward, limp on his bed, fingers twitching where they land.
slowly he draws out, groaning and rubbing his face with a rough touch. stuck on how your juices continue to pour free, coating his length with release he gave you. realease sticking his balls to his inner thighs, filthy, and so fucking cute.
he tugs at himself, once, twice, spurting out warm white ropes on your lower back. noisy even with his lips pursed together as he smears it with the tip of his cock, pushing down for cum to dry between your ass.
kissing up your back, he bites at your shoulder, pressing his stomach on the mess only to make you squirm, disgusted.
sprawled under his weight, you blink slowly, coming back to life and reaching for a pair of discarded blue boxers half hanging off the side. clutching them in your fist to take back with you after getting cleaned up.
Pairings: Omega! Jake Sim x Alpha! fem reader
Wordcount: 17k+
Summary: You love Jake, but believing you are a Beta who can never truly satisfy his Omega nature, you push him away only to realize during a dramatic twenty-first birthday presentation that you were his fated Alpha all along.
A/N: so uhhh I saw a Jake edit at work and wrote this at work 😭even though I see him as a soft dom I really wanna take care of him! Anyways hope you guys enjoy this. It was supposed to be a short Drabble I SWEAR IDK WHAT HAPPENED. Like always Please Like, Reblog and Comment! They are very appreciated.
[Masterlist]
The day the Sim family crossed the border into the Silver River Pack territory, the sky was the color of a bruised plum. It was late autumn, the air crisp and smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves.
You were five years old, a scrap of a thing with scraped knees and your father’s stubborn chin. Being the daughter of the Head Alpha meant you walked with a certain swagger, even in your light-up velcro sneakers. You felt like you owned the woods.
You were playing near the community center, digging for worms in the mud, when the old station wagon rolled in. It sputtered and died right in front of the intake office.
Two adults stepped out first. They were quiet, unassuming people. They kept their heads lowered, their shoulders hunched—universal body language for we mean no harm. They smelled like nothing. Just soap and nervousness. Betas.
Then, the back door opened.
A boy climbed out.
He looked to be about your age. He was wearing a yellow raincoat that was two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowing his hands. But it was his face that stopped you mid-dig.
He was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.
He had a mop of soft, dark hair that fell into his eyes. And those eyes... they were enormous. They were dark pools, wide and shimmering with a mixture of terror and wonder. When he blinked, you swore you could see galaxies swirling in them.
He looked around, clutching a stuffed puppy to his chest. He looked at the towering pine trees. He looked at the gruff Alpha guards standing by the gate. And then, he looked at you.
You stood up, wiping your muddy hands on your overalls. You marched over to him.
The boy flinched, taking a half-step behind his mother’s leg. He peeked out at you with those big, sparkly doe eyes.
"Hi," you announced, your voice loud in the quiet clearing.
"Hello," he whispered. His voice was soft, like wind chimes.
"I'm Y/N," you said. "My dad is the boss. Who are you?"
"Jake," he said, hugging the stuffed puppy tighter.
"You have mud on your face," he pointed out, pointing a tiny finger at your cheek.
You scrubbed at it, probably making it worse. "I was hunting worms. Do you like worms?"
Jake wrinkled his nose. It was an adorable motion, scrunching up his entire face. "No. They're slimy."
"That's the best part!" You grinned, showing off a gap-toothed smile. "You want to see?"
He hesitated, looking up at his mom. She gave him a gentle nod.
Jake stepped away from her leg. He walked toward you, his yellow raincoat swishing. "Okay. But if they touch me, I'm going to scream."
"Deal," you said.
That was the beginning. It wasn't an explosion; it was a seed taking root.
Pack dynamics are brutal, even for children. Wolves value strength, lineage, and scent. Even before presentation, children mimic their parents.
Jake was an anomaly. His parents were Betas, "drifters" who had joined the pack late in life. They didn't have the rich history of the founding families. They didn't have status.
And Jake... Jake was soft.
He didn't like roughhousing. He didn't like play-fighting. While the other boys were tackling each other in the dirt, growling with their baby teeth, Jake preferred to sit on the swings and look at the clouds. He liked to collect shiny rocks. He liked to hum to himself.
This made him a target.
It happened on a Tuesday. You were six.
You were looking for Jake during recess. You found him behind the equipment shed.
Three older boys—Marcus, Tyler, and Sam—had him cornered. Marcus was eight, big for his age, and already smelling faintly of his Alpha father’s aggression.
"What's wrong, stray?" Marcus sneered, kicking dust onto Jake’s shoes. "Cat got your tongue?"
Jake was pressed against the wooden wall. His big eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill over. He wasn't fighting back. He was trembling, his lower lip wobbling.
"Leave me alone," Jake whispered.
"My dad says your parents are useless," Marcus laughed cruelly. "Just worker bees. You're going to be a useless worker bee too. You don't even smell like a wolf. You smell like air."
"I am a wolf!" Jake cried, his voice cracking.
"Prove it," Tyler taunted. "Growl. Come on. Let's hear it."
Jake opened his mouth, but only a small, choked sob came out.
The boys laughed. It was a mean, sharp sound.
You felt a heat rise in your belly. It wasn't the hormonal rage of an adult; it was the pure, righteous indignation of a best friend.
You dropped the pinecone you were holding. You didn't think. You just ran.
"HEY!" you screamed.
You barreled into the circle, shoving Marcus with all your might. He wasn't expecting it, and he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his butt.
"Leave him alone!" you yelled, standing in front of Jake. You spread your arms wide, making yourself a shield.
Marcus scrambled up, his face red. "Move, Y/N. This isn't your business."
"He's my friend!" you shouted back. "And if you touch him, I'm telling my dad!"
The ultimate threat. The Head Alpha.Marcus paled. He looked at you, fierce and muddy, and then at Jake, who was peeking out from behind your shoulder with wide, terrified eyes."Whatever," Marcus muttered, trying to save face. "He's just a crybaby anyway. Come on, guys."
They ran off, hooting and hollering.You turned around immediately.
"Jake?" He was crying now, silent tears tracking down his soft cheeks. He looked so small. So fragile.
"Are you okay?" You reached out, wiping a tear from his chin.
Jake sniffled, looking at you like you were Superwoman. "They said... they said I'm not a real wolf."
"They're stupid," you declared firmly. "You are a real wolf. You're just... a nice wolf. You're not mean like them."
"You saved me," Jake whispered. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your middle, burying his face in your shirt. He smelled like baby shampoo and rain.
"I'll always save you," you said, patting his back. "That's what friends do."
Jake pulled back, his eyes sparkling again, the fear replaced by adoration. "I want to be strong like you, Y/N."
"You will be," you promised, having no idea what you were talking about.
By the time you were eight, you were inseparable. The pack elders called you "The Shadow and the Shield." Where you went, Jake followed. He was clingy. It was the only word for it. He didn't like being alone. If you were watching TV, he had to be sitting next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours. If you were walking to the bus stop, he was holding your hand. If you were eating lunch, he was stealing food off your plate just to have an excuse to lean close.He was tactile in a way that defied his gender. Usually, boys at that age were going through the "cooties" phase. Jake didn't care about cooties. He only cared about you. One rainy Saturday, you were having a sleepover at his house. His parents, sweet Betas who baked excellent cookies, had built you a fort in the living room out of couch cushions and blankets.You were lying inside the fort, flashlight on, reading comic books."Y/N?" Jake asked. He was lying on his stomach, his chin resting on his folded arms. His eyes were reflecting the flashlight beam, making them look like pools of honey.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'll be a Beta?"
The question hung in the air.
"My mom and dad are Betas," he continued softly. "So I'll probably be one too. Right?"
You looked at him. He was so delicate. His eyelashes were long and dark against his pale skin. He was soft-spoken and kind. He rescued spiders instead of squishing them. He cried during sad movies. "Probably," you said honestly. "But being a Beta is cool. My uncle is a Beta and he flies airplanes."
"I don't want to fly airplanes," Jake said, rolling onto his back. "I want to be an Alpha."
You giggled. "You? An Alpha?"
"Hey!" He kicked your shin gently. "I could be! I'm growing! Look at my muscles!"
He flexed his arm. It was a noodle. A very cute noodle.
"Wow," you teased, poking his bicep. "So scary. Marcus better watch out."
"I'm serious," Jake said, his face growing solemn. "If I'm an Alpha, I can be the boss. And if I'm the boss, I can make a rule that no one is allowed to be mean to you. Ever." Your heart did a funny little flip.
"I don't need rules, Jake. I can take care of myself."
"I know," he sighed, shimmying closer until his head was resting on your shoulder. "But I want to take care of you, too. You always protect me. I want to take a turn."
"Okay," you whispered, turning off the flashlight so the room was plunged into darkness. "When we grow up, you can take a turn."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He fell asleep like that, breathing softly against your neck, his hand clutching the sleeve of your pajamas.
Fifth grade at age 10 brought the dreaded "Pack Biology" unit in health class.
The teacher, Mrs. Gable, pulled down a chart showing the three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alphas: The leaders, the protectors, the ones with the ruts and the knots. Strong, aggressive, dominant. Betas: The backbone, the stabilizers, standard biology. Calm, steady. Omegas: The nurturers, the heart of the pack, the ones with heats and slicks. Rare, precious, submissive. You sat next to Jake. He was staring at the chart with intense focus.
"Statistically," Mrs. Gable droned, "Two Beta parents have a 95% chance of producing a Beta offspring. There is a 4% chance of an Alpha, and a less than 1% chance of an Omega."
Jake slumped in his chair. After class, you found him sitting on the swing set, dragging his feet in the woodchips.
"What's wrong?" you asked, swinging next to him.
"95 percent," he grumbled. "That's basically 100 percent."
"So? What's so bad about being a Beta?"
"Betas are... boring," Jake said, kicking a rock. "And they can't mate bond. Not really. They don't have the bite."
"The bite sounds painful anyway," you shrugged.
"It's not about the pain," Jake looked at you with those big, earnest eyes. "It's about the connection. My dad says Alphas and Omegas are tied together by their souls. Like... magic. Betas just... like each other."
"Well, I like you," you said. "That's enough, isn't it?"
Jake looked at you. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over his face. He looked otherworldly pretty and handsome. "I guess," he murmured. "But I want the magic."
"Maybe you'll get lucky," you said. "Maybe you're the 4 percent."
"And you?" he asked. "What do you think you are?"
You thought about your parents. Your father was a massive, commanding Head Alpha. Your mother was a beautiful, elegant Omega.
"I think I'll be an Omega," you said confidently. "Like my mom. I like taking care of people. And I like soft blankets. And I hate fighting."
"You fought Marcus," Jake pointed out.
"That was different. That was for you."
Jake smiled, swinging a little higher. "Okay. So, if you're an Omega... and I'm the Alpha... then we're a perfect match."
"We're best friends, Jake. That's already a perfect match."
"Yeah," he said, looking at the sky. "Best friends."
The summer you turned twelve was the last summer of true childhood innocence. Puberty was knocking on the door, but it hadn't kicked it down yet.You spent every day in the treehouse your dad had built in the backyard. It was your sanctuary. No parents allowed. No bullies allowed. Just you and Jake. It was a hot August afternoon. You were lying on the wooden floorboards, drinking juice boxes and sweating. Jake was sketching in a notebook. He was getting really good at drawing. He was drawing you. "Stop moving," he mumbled, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
"It's hot," you complained, fanning yourself.
Jake put the pencil down. He crawled over to you.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
"What happens if we present and... things change?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like... what if I become an Alpha and the pack tells me I have to find an Omega? A stranger?"
"You just say no," you said simply.
"Can you do that?"
"You can do whatever you want, Jake. It's your life."
He looked unconvinced. He picked at a loose thread on his shorts. "I don't want a stranger. I want to stay with you."
"We're neighbors, Jake. We're going to the same middle school. We're not going anywhere."
"No, I mean..." He struggled for the words. He was twelve, and the feelings were too big for his vocabulary. He just knew that the idea of being separated from you, of having a life that didn't revolve around you, made his stomach hurt. He lay down next to you, his head resting near yours. He turned so he was facing you.
His eyes were so close. You could see the flecks of gold in the brown. They were sparkly, innocent, and full of a blind trust that terrified you sometimes.
"Promise me something," he whispered.
"What?"
"Promise that no matter what we present as—Alpha, Beta, Omega, alien—we stick together. Two peas in a pod."
"Obviously," you rolled your eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead.
"No, say it. Promise."
"I promise, Jake. Me and you against the world."
"And..." he hesitated. "If you turn out to be an Omega... promise you won't let any big, mean Alphas take you away. Unless I say they're okay."
You laughed. "You want to approve my boyfriends?"
"Yes," he said deadly serious. "I have to vet them. If they can't beat me in Mario Kart, they can't have you."
"Deal," you giggled. "And if you turn out to be a big, scary Alpha... I promise to make sure you don't turn into a jerk like Marcus."
"I could never be a jerk to you," Jake said softly. He reached out and took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His palm was clammy.
"I love you, Y/N," he said. It was the platonic, intense love of a child.
"Love you too, Jakey."
You lay there in the heat, holding hands, listening to the cicadas buzz. You didn't know then that biology was already writing a different script. You didn't know that the soft, sweet boy with the sparkly eyes who wanted to be your protector was carrying the genetics of a rare, high-level Omega. And you didn't know that you, the girl who wanted to be soft like her mother, had a beast sleeping in her chest that would one day wake up and burn the world down for him.For now, you were just two kids in a treehouse. Two peas in a pod. Waiting for the rest of your lives to start.
Age 14 Puberty hit Jake Sim like a freight train, but instead of awkwardness and acne, it brought angles and height.
It happened over the summer before freshman year. You went away to a leadership camp for three weeks. When you came back, the boy waiting for you on your front porch wasn't the boy you left. He stood up as your dad’s car pulled into the driveway. He was taller—at least three inches taller. His shoulders, once bony and narrow, had broadened out, filling his t-shirt in a way that made your mouth go dry for a split second before your brain caught up. His jawline had sharpened, cutting a striking silhouette against the afternoon sun.But then he smiled, and the "Hot Stranger" vanished, replaced instantly by Jake. "You're back!" he yelled, bounding down the porch steps with the same puppy energy he’d had at five. He engulfed you in a hug, lifting you off your feet. He smelled different, too. Not the pheromones of a presented wolf yet—you were both still technically "pups"—but he smelled like deodorant, laundry detergent, and something distinctly warm and masculine.
"Put me down, you giant!" you laughed, slapping his back.
He set you down, grinning. "Did you shrink? Or did I just win the genetic lottery?"
"You grew," you accused, looking up at him. "It's unfair." He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. And there they were. The eyes. Despite the sharp jaw and the new height, his eyes were exactly the same. Dark, shimmering, and impossibly round. Boba eyes, you called them. They still held that galaxy of innocence, that wet, shiny look that made it impossible to say no to him.
"Missed you," he whispered, the playfulness dropping for a second to reveal the clingy attachment underneath.
"Missed you too," you admitted.
Age 15 High school was a strange ecosystem. As everyone waited for their secondary genders to manifest, hormones were running rampant. Jake became popular by accident. He was quiet, he was athletic (soccer star), and he was devastatingly handsome. Girls—and some boys—would whisper when he walked down the hallway.
“Is he an Alpha? Look at those shoulders.”
“He has to be. He’s too hot to be a Beta.”
Notes appeared in his locker. Girls would "accidentally" bump into him. Jake didn't just reject them; he didn't even notice them.You were at your locker one morning, struggling with a jammed zipper on your backpack. "Here," Jake appeared out of nowhere, his chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached over to fix it. He was always in your personal space. He treated your personal bubble like it was his vacation home.
"Thanks," you muttered.
A girl from your math class, Sarah, walked by. She stopped, twirling her hair, looking at Jake with hungry eyes. "Hi, Jake. I like your sweater."
Jake didn't look up. He was focused on your zipper. "Thanks."
"Are you going to the pep rally?" Sarah pressed, stepping closer.
"I'm going with Y/N," Jake said, finally freeing the zipper. He zipped your bag up and patted it. "Done."
"Oh," Sarah’s face fell. She looked at you with a mix of confusion and jealousy. "You guys are... always together."
"Yep," Jake smiled, draping his arm heavily over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Two peas in a pod."
He turned you around and walked you to class, leaving Sarah standing there.
"You're rude," you whispered, though you leaned into his side.
"I'm not rude," he said, bewildered. "I answered her question."
"She was flirting with you, Jake."
"I don't care," he shrugged, resting his chin on the top of your head as you walked. "I'm busy."
"Busy doing what?"
"Hanging out with you."
It wasn't a grand romantic gesture. It wasn't in the rain. It was in his bedroom, on a Tuesday afternoon, while playing video games.
You were sitting on the floor, leaning back against the edge of his bed. Jake was sitting between your legs, his back resting against your chest. It was a tangle of limbs that would have looked scandalous to anyone else, but for you two, it was just Tuesday.
You were both sixteen. The pressure of "Firsts" was heavy in the air at school. First dates. First kisses. First presentations.
"Jacob kissed Jessica under the bleachers today," Jake said, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he mashed buttons on the controller. "Gross," you commented, braiding a small section of his hair. "Was it sloppy?"
"He said it was... wet. And electric." Jake paused the game.
The silence in the room shifted. It became heavy, charged with the curiosity of two teenagers who were too close for their own good.
Jake turned his head. Because he was leaning back against you, his face was upside down from your perspective. "Do you think it's electric for Betas?" he asked softly. "Or is that just an Alpha/Omega thing?"
"I don't know," you whispered. You stopped braiding his hair. Your fingers were resting on his scalp. "We could check," Jake said. It wasn't a proposition. It was a scientific inquiry. Or at least, that's what he pretended.
"Check?"
"Kiss," he clarified. "To see if it's electric. Since we haven't presented yet. We're the control group."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You knew, logically, this was a bad idea. Friends didn't test-drive kisses. "Okay," you breathed out.
Jake shifted, turning his body so he was facing you. He sat cross-legged, his knees bumping yours. His boba eyes were wide, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. "Just a test," he whispered.
He leaned in.
His lips were soft. That was your first thought. They were chapped from the cold, but soft.He pressed his mouth to yours tentatively. Closed mouth. Innocent.
But then, he sighed. And you sighed. And the kiss deepened. Jake’s hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. You instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. It was electric. It wasn't the biological spark of a mate bond—not yet—but it was the terrifying, white-hot electricity of realizing that the person you loved most in the world tasted really, really good. Jake made a low sound in his throat, a tiny whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours, and pressed harder. For ten seconds, the world dissolved. There was only Jake. Jake’s warmth. Jake’s smell (still just laundry detergent, but somehow intoxicating). Jake’s lips moving against yours with a clumsy, desperate hunger.
Then, he pulled back. You were both panting slightly. His lips were red. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated. He looked at you with a terrifying amount of hope.
"That was..." he started. Panic set in. If you acknowledged what just happened—that you liked it, that you wanted to do it again—everything would change. The friendship, the safety, the "peas in a pod." What if you presented as something incompatible? What if he met his fated mate later and you were just a mistake?
"Scientific," you blurted out, your voice cracking. Jake’s face fell. The light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction. "Right," he swallowed, pulling his hand away from your face. "Scientific. No electricity."
"Nope," you lied, your heart breaking a little. "Just... lips."
"Okay." He turned back around, picking up the controller. But his hands were shaking. "Level four?"
"Yeah. Level four."
You didn't talk about it. But the air between you had changed. It was thicker now. Heavy with things unsaid.
Age 17 The kiss haunted you. To escape it, you did what any confused, panicked teenager would do: you tried to find "normal." You started dating Caleb. Caleb was safe. He was a year older, a newly presented Beta. He was nice enough. He played guitar. He smelled like cedar chips (a standard Beta scent).
Jake didn't take it well. When you told him, he went quiet. His face went blank, shutting down in a way you rarely saw.
"Oh," was all he said. "Okay."
He didn't make a scene. He didn't fight for you. He just... retreated. He stopped coming over every night. He stopped touching you constantly. He still sat with you at lunch, but he sat across from you, not next to you. The loss of his physical presence felt like phantom limb pain. The relationship with Caleb lasted three months. And it was terrible.Caleb was insecure. He didn't like how close you were with Jake.
"Why does he look at you like that?" Caleb asked one night while you were watching a movie.
"Like what?"
"Like he owns you."
"He's my best friend, Caleb."
"He's a guy. And he's not presented yet. He could be an Alpha waiting to happen. I don't like it."
You tried to make it work. You created distance with Jake to appease Caleb. You ignored Jake’s texts. You stopped going to the treehouse. And then, Caleb cheated. You found him at a party, making out with a girl from the drama club. The breakup was messy. Caleb was defensive, calling you "frigid" and blaming your obsession with your "little pet Jake." You walked out of the party, tears streaming down your face, feeling hollowed out. You didn't call your mom. You didn't call your dad.
You walked three miles in the dark to Jake’s house.
It was 1:00 AM. The Sim house was dark. You threw a pebble at Jake’s window.
He opened it almost instantly, as if he had been waiting. He was shirtless, wearing pajama pants, his hair tousled from sleep. He looked down, saw you crying on his lawn, and didn't hesitate.
"I'm coming down."
He met you at the back door. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask why you were there. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and opened his arms.
You collapsed into him. "He... he..." you sobbed, unable to get the words out.
"Shh," Jake whispered. He pulled you into the living room, onto the big plush sofa.
He sat down and pulled you into his lap. You were seventeen, almost fully grown, but he held you like you were five. He wrapped his legs around yours, his arms banding around your waist, burying his face in your neck. "He's an idiot," Jake murmured into your skin. The vibration of his voice soothed the ache in your chest. "Whatever he did, he's an idiot."
"He cheated," you choked out. "And he said... he said I was cold."
Jake stiffened. His arms tightened around you, his grip bordering on painful. "You're not cold," he growled. It was a low sound, surprising for an unpresented boy. "You're warm. You're the warmest thing I know."
He rocked you back and forth. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.
"I hate him," Jake said quietly. "I want to punch him."
"Don't," you sniffled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "He's not worth it."
"He made you cry. That makes him worth hurting."
Jake looked at you then. The moonlight was filtering in through the window, illuminating his face. He had grown into his features so well. He was beautiful. But his eyes... those boba eyes were shiny with unshed tears of his own. He was crying because you were crying.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."
"Don't do it again," Jake said, his voice cracking. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Please. I can't... I can't function when you're not there. It's like trying to breathe underwater."
"I won't," you promised. "No more boyfriends. Just us."
"Just us," he agreed. He didn't kiss you. He could have—you were vulnerable, you were close—but he didn't. Instead, he just held you. He ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp until your breathing evened out.
"Sleep," he commanded softly. "I've got you."
You fell asleep on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. You woke up the next morning in his bed (he had carried you upstairs). He was asleep next to you, his hand gripping your waist even in his sleep. You looked at him and realized that Caleb was right about one thing. Jake did look at you like he owned you.
But as you watched him sleep, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, you realized something else. You wanted to be owned.
Your eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the start of your life. In the Silver River Collective, eighteen is when the biological clock strikes midnight. It’s the unveiling.
You spent the weeks leading up to it terrified and excited. Would you be a regal Omega like your mother? A commanding Alpha like your father?
The day came. You woke up. You checked the mirror.
You looked exactly the same. You smelled exactly the same.
You waited a week. Then a month.
Nothing. The pack doctors ran tests. "Late bloomer," they shrugged, marking your chart with the clinical code for Unpresented/Presumed Beta. "It happens. Not everyone gets a wolf." You watched the light in your father’s eyes dim just a fraction. He didn't love you less, but the expectation of a legacy had evaporated. You were just... Y/N. Normal. Boring. Invisible. Then came November. Then came Jake.
Jake Sim turned eighteen and the universe didn't just knock; it kicked the door down.
His presentation was violent and immediate. One day he was the beta boy next door; the next, he was one of the Pack’s Crown Jewel.
He presented as a Male Omega.
In your pack, Male Omegas were unicorns. They were prized for their high fertility, their potent scents, and their rarity. When Jake returned to school after his first heat week, the atmosphere shifted gravitationally. He walked down the hallway, and heads turned. Alphas stopped mid-sentence, nostrils flaring, tracking the scent of peaches and fresh rain that trailed behind him like a royal cape. He had filled out. His skin glowed with that distinct Omega luster. His lips looked softer, redder. He was undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.
And you? You were the shadow walking beside the sun.
People stopped seeing you. They looked right through you to get to him.
"Jake, want to sit with us?"
"Jake, did you finish the calc homework?"
"Jake, you smell amazing."
You expected him to drift away. It would have been natural. He belonged to the elite now, the hierarchy of scents and instincts. You belonged to the background.
But Jake didn't drift. He anchored. If anything, his presentation made him more obsessed with you. "They're so loud," he complained one day at lunch, pressing his face into your shoulder to hide from a group of staring Alphas. "Can we go to the library? I need to smell your detergent. It quiets my brain."
"I'm boring, Jake," you muttered, stabbing at your salad. "Go sit with Sunghoon and Jennie. They're Alphas. They're your crowd now."
"They smell like warm body spray and ego," Jake mumbled, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. "I'd rather sit with you."
Sophomore year of college. The dynamic was set in stone. Jake was the campus idol—the Music Production major with the face of a model and the scent of heaven. You were his "friend." The Beta bodyguard. It was a Friday night in October. Jay, a popular Alpha and friend of Jake’s, was throwing a massive house party. "I don't want to go," you groaned, lying on your bed.
"Please?" Jake pleaded. He was standing in your doorway, dressed in a black band tee, and ripped jeans. He looked dangerous. He looked edible. "Jay invited me, and he said I could bring a plus one. I'm not going without you. If I go alone, I'll get eaten alive."
"You love the attention," you accused, though you were already reaching for your shoes. "I hate the attention," he corrected. "I only want attention from one person."
He gave you that look—his eyes, wide and shimmering—and you crumbled. You always crumbled. Jay’s house was a sensory nightmare. The bass was shaking the floorboards. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and a cocktail of pheromones. You stuck to the wall, nursing a red solo cup. Jake was seated on the main sofa, a king in his court. He was laughing at something Jay said, throwing his head back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat. He looked radiant.
You watched him, a familiar ache settling in your chest. You loved him. God, you loved him. But you were a dud. A non-entity. You couldn't give him what he needed. He needed a mate. He needed a bite. He needed an Alpha.
"Hey."
You looked up. A girl was standing next to you. A Beta you recognized from History class. "You're Y/N, right? Jake Sim's... friend?"
"Yeah."
"Is he single?" she asked, shouting over the music. "My roommate is dying to ask him out, but she's scared of you."
"Scared of me?" You let out a bitter laugh. "Why? I'm nobody."
"You have a vibe," she shrugged. "Like a guard dog."
You looked back at the sofa. The mood had shifted. A woman had sat down next to Jake. You knew her. Kim Minji. A senior. A Female Alpha. She was stunning—tall, sharp-featured, radiating a scent of crushed mint and leather that cut through the room. She was everything you weren't. Powerful. Presented. Compatible. She was leaning into Jake’s space. Her hand was resting on the back of the sofa, fingers inches from his neck. She whispered something in his ear. Jake smiled. It was a polite smile, tight at the corners, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. Social etiquette for an Omega dictated he be polite to high-ranking Alphas. Then, Minji moved. Her hand slid from the sofa to Jake’s knee. A red haze dropped over your vision.
It wasn't rational. It wasn't logical. It was primal. The sound of your plastic cup crushing in your hand was lost in the music.You felt a growl vibrating in your throat, low and dangerous. Get your hands off him.But you were just a Beta. You had no right.
"I'm leaving," you snapped at the girl next to you.
You turned and shoved your way through the crowd, heading for the door. You couldn't watch it. You couldn't watch him be claimed by someone worthy.The night air was cold, biting at your heated skin. You marched down the sidewalk, angry tears stinging your eyes.
"Y/N! Wait!"
Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind you.
You didn't stop. "Go back to the party, Jake. Minji was just getting started."
"I don't care about Minji!"
Jake caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He spun you around.
He was out of breath, his chest heaving. His band shirt was slipping off one shoulder. He looked frantic. "Why did you leave?" he demanded.
"Because I don't belong there!" you shouted, ripping your arm from his grip. "I'm not part of your world, Jake! I'm just the background character holding your bags while you get flirted with by real Alphas!"
"Real Alphas?" Jake scoffed, stepping closer. "You think she's a real Alpha? She smells like mouthwash and desperation. She touched my knee and I wanted to vomit."
"She can give you a bond!" you yelled, the truth finally spilling out. "She can knot you! She can bite you! I can't do anything! I'm just Y/N! I just have... this." You gestured vaguely to your body. "It's not enough for an Omega."
Jake went silent. He stared at you, his eyes searching your face in the streetlights. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.
"Is that what you think?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "That I want a knot? That I need some biological lock to feel safe?"
"It's what you're built for."
"I'm built for you," Jake hissed.
He stepped into your space, eliminating the distance. He grabbed the lapels of your jacket and yanked you close.
He kissed you. It wasn't the innocent, scientific kiss from when you were sixteen. This was desperate. It was angry. It was hungry.
He tasted like beer and peaches. He kissed you like he was trying to breathe you in, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you. You froze for a second, then you broke. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hauling him flush against you. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of the last year.
"My place," Jake gasped against your lips. "Now."
Once yo reached his place you stumbled into his room, lips locked, hands roaming.
The door slammed shut, locking out the world.The room smelled like him—concentrated, sweet, safe. But tonight, the air was crackling with a different kind of energy. Jake broke the kiss, shoving you gently towards the bed. He looked frantic, his eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.
"Take it off," he ordered, his voice shaking. He was pulling at his own band tee shirt, ripping it over his head. You stripped quickly, your hands trembling. When you were both bare, the silence in the room was deafening. You stood there, feeling exposed, feeling inadequate.
"Jake," you started, "I don't know if I can—"
"Shh," he silenced you, stepping forward. He placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. You faced the wall, your heart hammering against your ribs. You felt the mattress press against your knees as he guided you down.
"I want to show you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to show you that I don't need a knot. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you."
He pushed you forward until you were on your hands and knees. It was a submissive position, one usually reserved for Omegas, but tonight, he was flipping the script. He wanted to claim you.
You felt him move behind you. He was shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the sweet, cloying scent of an aroused Omega filling your lungs.
"Y/N," he whined, a high, needy sound that made your toes curl. He pressed himself against your back. His skin was soft, burning hot. He wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging to you like a lifeline. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his wet eyelashes fluttering against your skin.
"Please," he whimpered. "Let me."
You nodded, unable to speak. He guided himself to your entrance. He was trembling so hard it took him a moment to find the rhythm. But when he pushed inside, a sob tore from his throat. "Oh god," he cried, the sound muffled against your shoulder. "You're so warm. You're so warm."
He didn't take control like an Alpha would. He didn't dominate. He moved with a desperate, clingy need. He kept his chest pressed to your back, his arms locked around your waist as if he was terrified you would disappear if he let go.
He began to move. It wasn't a power play. It was a plea.
With every thrust, he made a sound—a soft, broken whine that was pure Omega. He was the one penetrating you, but he was the one unraveling.
"Do you feel me?" he sobbed, biting gently on your shoulder to ground himself. "I'm right here. I'm connected to you. No knot can do this. Only us."
You gripped the sheets, your head falling forward. The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical pleasure, which was sharp and blinding, but the emotional weight of it. He was literally pouring himself into you.
"Jake," you gasped.
"I love you," he cried, his hips snapping forward, driving deeper. "I love you so much it hurts. Don't make me find an Alpha. I don't want them. I hate them. I only want you."
He was crying openly now, his tears dripping onto your bare back. He sounded so pathetic, so needy, and yet he was the one holding you down, the one filling you up.
"I'm yours," you whispered, the truth finally slipping out.
"Say it again," he begged, his pace quickening, his breath hitching. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours, Jake. I'm yours."
That was it. That was the trigger. Jake let out a long, high-pitched wail, his body tensing. He thrust into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and collapsed against your back. He held you with a crushing grip, shaking violently as he came.
You felt him pulse inside you, and you shattered with him, your own climax hitting you in a wave of white light. He didn't pull away. He couldn't. He stayed there, slumped over your back, his face buried in your neck, sobbing quietly. He was heavy, warm, and smelled like peaches and salt. "Don't leave," he mumbled into your skin, his voice thick with sleep and exhaustion. "Stay inside. Stay close."
You reached back, running your hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
The morning sun was cruel. It illuminated the dust motes and the reality of the situation.You woke up with Jake’s limbs tangled in yours. He was the big spoon, curled around your back, his arm heavy over your waist. He was still asleep, his breath hitching every now and then like a child who had cried themselves to sleep.
Panic set in. Cold and sharp.
What have I done?
You had crossed the line. You had slept with the pack’s most eligible Omega. You, the unpresented nobody. You had taken something that should have been saved for a real Alpha who could take care of him properly.
Jake stirred. He tightened his grip on your waist, nuzzling your shoulder.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice raspy and content.
You carefully untangled yourself from him and sat up. You pulled the sheet around your body, creating a barrier.
The smile froze on Jake’s face as he felt the loss of your warmth. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Y/N?"
"We... we shouldn't have done that," you whispered, staring at the floor.
Jake looked like you had slapped him. "What? Why? It was... it was perfect. You felt it."
"It was a mistake, Jake. I got jealous. I let my emotions get the better of me."
"So?" Jake asked, his voice rising, panic creeping in. "I wanted you to! I've been waiting for you to get jealous! Does this mean we're... are we together now?"
He looked so hopeful. His eyes were wide, pleading. It killed you.
"No," you said, forcing your voice to be steady, even though your heart was breaking. "We can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because look at you, Jake! You're an Omega! A high-level Omega! And I'm... I'm nothing. I'm a dud. I can't knot you. I can't bite you. Last night... last night was great, but eventually, your biology is going to demand those things. Eventually, you're going to meet your fated mate."
"I don't want a fated mate!" Jake yelled, grabbing your hand. "I want you! I don't care about the knot! Didn't I prove that?"
"You say that now," you said, pulling your hand away. "But you're eighteen. You don't know what's out there. I won't be the reason you miss out on your true mate."
You took a breath, steeling yourself to offer the only compromise you could live with. The only way to keep him without ruining his future. "But... if you want... we can keep doing this. Until you find someone else."
Jake went still. He stared at you, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "You want to be... friends with benefits?"
"It's better than nothing, isn't it?" you said, hating yourself. "I can take care of your needs. I can keep the Alphas away. But no labels. No promises. Because I can't promise you a future I can't give."
It was a cowardly offer. You were terrified of losing him, so you built a cage of "no strings" to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.
Jake looked down at his hands. He looked at the empty space in the bed where you used to be.He knew he should say no. He knew he deserved a mate who would claim him proudly in the streets. He knew he was worth more than a secret.
But he looked at you—his best friend, his protector, the person who let him cry while he fucked her because he was so overwhelmed with love.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice small.
"Okay?"
"If that's all you can give me," Jake looked up, a single tear tracking down his cheek. "I'll take it."
He crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab your hand again. He pressed his cheek against your palm, submitting to your terms, even though it broke his heart.
"Just don't leave me," he begged. "Please don't leave me alone."
"I won't," you promised, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."
That was a year ago.
Now, you are both twenty. The "situationship" has become a lifestyle. To the outside world, you are best friends. To the walls of Jake’s apartment, you are everything.
You sleep together almost every night. You know every inch of his body. You know that he likes to be the one in control, but he needs to be praised while he does it. You know that he cries when it’s too good. You know that he needs to be held for exactly twenty minutes afterward before he can speak. He is still the talk of the campus. Alphas still bring him gifts. He politely declines them all. "I'm busy," he tells them.
He comes home to you. He crawls into your lap, smelling of other people's perfumes and colognes, and scrubs his face against your neck until he smells like you again.
"You're mine," he whispers in the dark, when he thinks you're asleep. "Even if you won't say it. You're mine."
And you? You hold him tighter, consumed by the guilt and the pleasure, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the day the universe corrects its mistake and takes him away.But for now, in the dark, he is yours. And you are his loser, his unpresented mistake, his secret keeper.
The lie began on a Thursday afternoon in the lecture hall of the Science Building.
Jake was sitting in his usual spot, third row, tapping his pen against his notebook. He was tired. His cycle was approaching—he could feel the pre-heat itch under his skin—but the calendar said he had at least another week. He was managing it. He was fine.Then, the door opened.A girl walked in. She was late. She was a transfer student, someone Jake hadn’t seen before. She was tall, with sharp eyes and a confident stride.She walked right past Jake’s desk to get to an empty seat.
As she passed, the air shifted. It hit Jake like a physical blow. Cinnamon . Leather. Woodsmoke. It was the scent of a dominant Female Alpha. And not just any Alpha—a compatible one. Jake’s biology betrayed him instantly. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His mouth watered. A sharp, cramping heat coiled low in his stomach, seizing his insides. His Omega instincts, usually dormant and suppressed by blockers, woke up and screamed: Pack. Protection. Mate.
He gasped, dropping his pen. The girl paused. She turned, looking down at him. Her eyes flashed red for a microsecond—her Alpha recognizing a distressed Omega.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low and rumbling.
That voice. It vibrated in Jake’s bones. It told him to bare his neck. It told him to submit.
And Jake hated it.
He hated the lack of control. He hated that his body wanted to bow to a stranger just because she had the right hormones. He hated that for a split second, he forgot about you. "I'm fine," Jake choked out, grabbing his bag. "I have to go."
He scrambled out of his seat, ignoring the Alpha’s confused look, ignoring the professor calling his name. He ran out of the building, bursting into the cold autumn air. He leaned against the brick wall, hyperventilating. The heat was already rising. The encounter had triggered a biological override. His heat wasn't a week away anymore. It was coming now. He pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely type.
Y/N.
He needed you. He needed your scent—your neutral, detergent scent. He needed your hands. But he couldn't tell you the truth. If he told you that a Female Alpha had triggered his heat, you would do the "noble" thing. You would tell him to go to her. You would push him away, convinced that biology knew better than love. You would leave him. The thought made his chest ache more than the heat did. He swallowed the bile in his throat and typed the lie.
Jake: I think my suppressants failed. It's starting early. Can you come over? Please
You got the text while you were in line at the campus bookstore.
Panic, cold and familiar, washed over you. Early? You abandoned your place in line. You called your boss at the library and told him you had a family emergency. You emailed your professors that you were sick.
Then, you went to the grocery store. You moved through the aisles with robotic efficiency, playing the role you had carved out for yourself: The Beta Caretaker.
Items:
Gatorade (Blue, his favorite).
Protein bars (he wouldn't want to cook).
Soft blankets (he liked new textures when he was nesting).
Peaches (canned, in syrup—comfort food).
Painkillers.
You arrived at his apartment twenty minutes later. The hallway already smelled faintly of him—a sweet, rising dough scent that warned of the storm to come.
You unlocked the door.
"Jake?"
The apartment was dark. The blinds were drawn.
"Bedroom," a voice croaked. You walked in. Jake was buried under a pile of blankets on his bed. Only his eyes were visible—those big, shiny boba eyes, now glassy with fever. "You're here," he whimpered.
He scrambled out of the blankets. He was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. His skin was flushed a deep, rosy pink.
He practically tackled you. "Whoa, easy," you said, dropping the grocery bags as his weight hit you. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. He made a frustrated sound.
"You smell like the bookstore," he complained, rubbing his cheek aggressively against your collarbone. "I need you."
"I'm here, Jake. I'm right here."
You walked him back to the bed, though he clung to you like a koala. You sat down, and he immediately straddled your lap, wrapping his arms around your neck. "It hurts," he whispered, pressing his hot forehead against yours. "It feels heavier this time."
You ran your hands up and down his bare back, trying to soothe the tremors running through him. You felt the guilt rise in your throat.
"Jake," you said softly. "The books say the second heat is more intense. The body is... demanding a mate."
He stiffened in your arms.
"So?" he challenged, pulling back to look at you. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated.
"So... maybe we should call someone. Not a stranger. But maybe... Jennie? Or Jay? Someone safe. Someone who can help you properly."
It tore your heart out to say it. The thought of Jake with anyone else made you want to vomit. But you were a dud. A placeholder. If his heat was this bad, could you really satisfy him?
Jake’s expression shifted from pain to pure, unadulterated anger.
"No," he growled.
"Jake, be reasonable. I can't knot you. I can't—"
"Shut up!" he shouted, his hands gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Stop trying to give me away! I don't want them! I don't want an Alpha! I want you!"
"But why?" you cried, frustration leaking out. "I can't give you what your body is screaming for!"
"You don't know what my body is screaming for!" he yelled back, tears spilling over. "It's screaming for safety! It's screaming for Y/N! If you bring an Alpha in here, I will bite them. I swear to god, I will hurt them."
He collapsed against you again, sobbing into your shoulder.
"Don't leave me," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please don't make me be with them. They smell wrong. They feel wrong."
The lie hung in the air between you, unspoken. He wasn't just rejecting Alphas; he was rejecting the memory of the girl in the lecture hall. He was fighting his own biology to keep you.
You sighed, wrapping your arms tight around him. You were weak. You should be stronger. You should force him to do what was right for his health. But you couldn't deny him."Okay," you whispered into his hair. "Okay, Jake. No Alphas. Just us."
"Just us," he echoed, his grip tightening. "Promise."
"I promise."
The evening passed in a haze of tension.
Jake was unbearable. The pre-heat hormones stripped away his filters. He was needy, demanding, and incredibly sensitive.
He wouldn't let you leave the bed.
"I need water," you said, trying to untangle yourself from his limbs.
"No," he whined, pinning your leg down with his own. "Stay."
"I'm thirsty, Jake."
"I have spit," he offered, completely serious.
You laughed, despite the heaviness in the room. "You're gross."
"I'm dying," he corrected dramatically. "I'm dying of need and you want water."
Eventually, you managed to get the water and the snacks. You fed him peach slices in bed while he watched you with predatory, hazy eyes.
"You know," he murmured, licking syrup off his thumb. "You smell better than them."
"I don't smell like anything."
"To me you do," he insisted. "You smell like... stillness. Like the eye of the storm. Alphas smell like noise. You're quiet."
He crawled over to you, pushing the bowl of peaches away. He pushed you down onto the mattress.
"Sleep with me," he commanded.
"I am sleeping with you. I'm right here."
"No. Sleep." He emphasized the word. "I need to wake up with you. If I wake up alone..." He shuddered. "Don't make me wake up alone."
"I won't."
You lay down. Jake curled himself around your back—usually he liked to be the big spoon, claiming you, but tonight he wanted to be held. He backed into your chest, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around his waist.
"Hold me tight," he whispered. "Like a seatbelt."
You squeezed him. His skin was radiating heat like a furnace. The scent of peaches was thickening, turning from fresh fruit to something darker, heavier. Like fruit left in the sun too long. Intoxicating and overwhelming.
You fell asleep with your nose buried in his hair, breathing in the scent of your best friend, your lover, your forbidden Omega.
You didn't wake up to sunlight. You woke up to movement.
It was the gray hour of the morning, just before dawn. The room was heavy. The air felt thick, humid, and tasted of sugar and salt.
Jake was moving.
You were lying on your stomach—you must have rolled over in the night. And Jake... Jake was on top of you.
But not in the usual way.He was straddling your thighs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He was panting, short, sharp breaths that sounded wet in the quiet room. "Jake?" you mumbled, sleep still clouding your brain.
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The heat had hit. He was in the throes of it. His logic was gone. His human inhibitions were gone. He was pure instinct now. And his instinct was confused, beautiful, and desperate. Usually, an Omega in heat would be submissive, presenting, waiting to be taken. But Jake... Jake had always been a little different with you. He felt safe enough to take what he needed. You felt him shifting, his hips grinding against your lower back. He was slick—so slick. You could feel the wetness soaking through your pajama pants. "Y/N," he whined. It was a high, broken sound. "Need. Need."
He fumbled with your waistband, his hands clumsy and shaking. He shoved your pants down, exposing your skin to the cool air, which was immediately replaced by the searing heat of his body.
"Jake, wait," you tried to push up, but he shoved your shoulders down.
"Mine," he growled. It wasn't an Alpha growl—it didn't have the bass. It was a possessive, desperate snarl. "Don't move. Please. Don't move."
He wasn't asking for permission to top you. He was asking for permission to use you as his anchor. He positioned himself. You felt the tip of him—hard, weeping pre-cum, hot as a branding iron—press against your entrance.
"I love you," he sobbed.
And then, he sank into you. He entered you from behind, collapsing forward so his chest was pressed against your back.
"Oh god," you gasped into the pillow.
He was so hot. Inside and out. It felt like being filled with lava.
He didn't wait. He began to move immediately. It wasn't the rhythmic, controlled lovemaking of your usual nights. This was frantic. This was survival.
He was humping you, his hips snapping forward with a violence that shook the bedframe. But the sounds he was making... they broke you.
He was crying. He was whining. He was babbling nonsense into your skin.
"Right there. Good. So good. You're so warm. My Beta. My Y/N."
He reached around, his arms wrapping under your chest, locking his hands together to hold on for dear life. He was clinging to you like a sailor to a mast in a hurricane.
You reached back, grabbing his hair, trying to give him some resistance, something to ground him."I've got you, Jake," you gritted out, the friction building rapidly. "I'm here."
"Don't let go," he pleaded, his thrusts becoming erratic, shallow then deep. "I feel empty. Fill me. No, let me fill you. I don't know. I don't know."
The confusion of his biology—needing to be filled but needing to claim you—was making him delirious. He solved it by trying to merge with you completely.
Then, you felt it.
His teeth. He turned his head, finding the sensitive curve of your neck.
He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate.He bit down.
"Ah!" you cried out.
It wasn't the mating bite. He didn't have the Alpha fangs to pierce deep enough for the soul-bond, and you didn't have the gland to receive it. But it was hard. It was primal.
He clamped his teeth onto the muscle of your shoulder/neck junction. It was a hold. A scruffing. He was holding you in place, grounding himself through the taste of your skin, the texture of your flesh. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure was sharper.
Feeling him claim you like that—like an animal, like he had every right to leave a mark on you—sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core.
"Jake," you moaned, pushing back against him.
The bite seemed to trigger him. The taste of you, the submission of you lying there letting him use you... it pushed him over the edge.
He let go of your neck with a gasp, his head falling back.
"Y/N! Y/N!"
He slammed into you, once, twice, three times—deep, ruinous thrusts that hit your deepest spot. He came with a shout. It was a raw, shattering sound. You felt him pulsing inside you, twitching wildly as his heat-fueled orgasm ripped through him.
He collapsed completely.
He was dead weight on top of you. He was panting, his breath hot and wet against your ear. He was trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. You lay there, pinned beneath him, your own body throbbing with the aftershocks of his intensity. The room was silent for a moment, save for the harsh breathing. And then, the scent hit.
It exploded.
Before, he smelled like peaches. Now?
The room smelled like a peach orchard that had been set on fire. It was thick, sugary, smoky, and heavy. It was the scent of a satisfied Omega in the peak of his heat.
It was so strong you could taste it on your tongue. If you were an Alpha, you would have gone into a rut instantly. If you were an Alpha, you would have lost your mind.
But you were Y/N. You were a Beta. So instead of a rut, you just felt... love. And an overwhelming, protective fieriness. Jake shifted. He didn't pull out. He stayed inside you, keeping the connection. He nuzzled his face into your messy hair.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice wrecked. You reached up, touching the stinging spot on your neck. It was definitely going to bruise.
"No," you lied softly. "You didn't."
"I bit you," he confessed, sounding horrified. "I tasted you. I'm sorry. I just... I needed to make sure you were real. I needed to hold you."
"I'm real, Jake. I'm not going anywhere."
"You smell like me now," he murmured, sounding pleased, almost drunk on the hormones. "You smell like my heat. No Alpha will come near you. They'll smell me all over you."
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes," he hissed, tightening his arms around you again. "I want everyone to know. You're taken. You're the Omega's. You're mine."
He kissed your shoulder, right over the bite mark, soothing the skin he had just abused. "Round two," he mumbled, his body already reacting again, defying the laws of exhaustion. "Please. Don't make me move."
"I'm not moving," you promised, closing your eyes and letting the heavy, sweet scent of him lull you into submission. "Do whatever you need."
And he did.
The seventh day of an Omega’s heat is not a slope; it is a cliff. It is the biological finale, the "Crest," where the body stops asking for a mate and begins to demand one with a ferocity that overrides logic, dignity, and sanity.
For six days, you had been enough. You had been his anchor, his cool washcloth, his hydration, his comfort. You had held him through the tremors and the fever dreams.
But on the morning of the seventh day, the atmosphere in the apartment shifted from heavy to suffocating. Jake woke up not with a soft nuzzle, but with a frantic, jerky movement. He was thrashing in the sheets, his skin burning so hot it felt dangerous to touch, like a fever that had spiked past the safety zone. His scent—usually peaches and rain—had soured. It didn't smell like fruit anymore. It smelled like burnt sugar and ozone. It smelled like distress.
"Jake?" You sat up, reaching for him. "Jake, look at me."
He opened his eyes.
They were swimming. The dark, warm brown you loved was swallowed by a dilated pupil, rimmed with a hazy, golden desperation. He looked through you, not at you. His wolf was at the surface, scratching at the controls.
"Hurts," he whimpered, a broken, reedy sound that tore at your chest. "It hurts. Inside. Everywhere."
He clawed at his own neck, his nails digging into the sensitive skin over his scent gland. The gland was swollen, pulsing visibly beneath the pale skin, desperate for the release of a claiming bite.
"Don't do that," you said, grabbing his wrists to stop him from hurting himself.
"Need," he sobbed, his body arching off the mattress. "Need... tight. Need to be held. Need... Alpha."
The word hung in the air, sharp and cruel.
He didn't mean to say it. He didn't even know he was saying it. But his biology knew what was missing. He looked at you then, his eyes focusing for a split second. He saw you—his Y/N, his safe place. And he lunged.
He didn't attack you. He collapsed onto you. He pushed you back against the pillows, his weight heavy and feverish. He wasn't trying to dominate you in the way an Alpha would; he was trying to merge with you. He was trying to climb inside your skin because his own was too painful to inhabit. "Help me," he cried, his hands fumbling blindly with the waistband of your pajama shorts. "Please. Help me. Fill the empty. Make it stop."
You helped him. You always helped him. You shimmied out of your clothes, your heart hammering against your ribs. You lay back, opening your legs for him, offering the only thing you had: your body. Your Beta body.
Jake didn't wait. He couldn't. He positioned himself between your legs, his movements erratic and clumsy with heat-shakes. He was trembling so violently that his teeth chattered.When he entered you, he didn't thrust with power. He sank into you with a sob.
"Oh god," he wept, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Y/N. Y/N."
He felt huge, hot, and desperate. He filled you completely, but the physical connection wasn't enough to quell the storm in his blood.
He began to move.It was heartbreaking. He wasn't fucking you for pleasure; he was fucking you for survival. He ground his hips against yours, seeking friction, seeking depth. He wrapped his arms around your torso, locking his hands together under your back, clinging to you as if the bed was a raft in the middle of the ocean.
He didn't scream. He didn't roar.
He whimpered. With every thrust, a soft, high-pitched cry escaped his throat. It was the sound of an animal in a trap.
"Please," he babbled into your skin, his tears wetting your collarbone. "Please, please, please."
"I've got you," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer, running your hands down his sweat-slicked back. "I'm right here, Jake. I'm holding you."
"Not enough," he moaned, the truth slipping out in his delirium. "It's not... it's not locking. Why won't it lock?"
He was searching for the knot. The biological mechanism that Alphas had (and he needed) to lock inside him or, in rare cases, the reaction that would lock him inside a Female Alpha. But you were a Beta. Your body was soft, welcoming, and warm, but it didn't have the clamp. It didn't have the biological key to his lock.
He picked up the pace, his desperation mounting. He was chasing a horizon he couldn't reach.
Then, he turned his head.
His nose brushed your neck. He inhaled deeply, searching for the pheromones that would trigger his release. He found only your detergent and your fear.
"Bite," he begged, nuzzling your pulse point frantically. "Mark me. Claim me. Please, Y/N. Bite me."
Your heart shattered. You knew it wouldn't work. You knew your teeth were flat. You knew your saliva lacked the enzyme. But hearing him beg, feeling him throb inside you, knowing he was in pain... you couldn't say no.
"Okay," you choked out. "Okay, Jake."
You turned your head. You found the swollen, pulsing gland on the curve of his neck.
You opened your mouth and bit down. You bit hard. Harder than you ever had. You put all your frustration, all your love, all your desperate desire to be enough into your jaw. Jake gasped, his back arching.
"Yes!" he moaned, a long, shaky sound. "Yes, yes, there. Take it."
For a moment, the sharp pressure was enough. It tricked his brain. He felt teeth on his gland, he felt you inside him (or rather, him inside you), and he felt the pain spike. He drove into you, his hips snapping forward in a frantic rhythm. He was chasing that sensation, trying to force the bond to snap into place. "Harder," he whined, tears streaming down his face. "Break the skin. Make it stay. Don't let go."
You bit harder. Your jaw ached. You tasted the salt of his sweat. You felt the skin under your teeth yield slightly, but it didn't puncture. It didn't tear. It just bruised. You were gnawing on him like a dog with a bone, but you couldn't break the seal. You couldn't give him the chemical rush of a mate claim.
Jake’s whimpers turned into sobs. "Why?" he cried, his voice wrecking. "Why isn't it working? Alpha... where is Alpha?"
He wasn't calling you Alpha anymore. He was calling for an Alpha. Any Alpha. The abstract concept of the thing that could save him.
The realization made you loosen your jaw. You pulled back, gasping for air.
You looked at his neck. It was a mess. A purple, angry welt was forming where you had bitten him. It looked painful. It looked ugly. It wasn't a claim; it was an injury.
"I can't," you whispered, tears blinding you. "I can't do it, Jake."
"You have to!" he cried. He slammed his hips into you one last time, his body seizing.
The orgasm hit him, but it wasn't the wave of relief he needed. It was a crash.
He cried out—a sharp, keening wail of overstimulation. He stiffened, pouring himself into you, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. But instead of the relaxation that should follow, he kept shaking. He was overwhelmed. His system was flooded with heat hormones that had nowhere to go because the bond hadn't grounded them.
He slumped forward, collapsing onto your chest. He was dead weight.
He didn't drift into a peaceful sleep. He passed out. It was a blackout induced by exhaustion and biological frustration. His brain simply pulled the plug because the body couldn't handle the stress anymore.
"Jake?"
You touched his cheek. He was burning up. His breathing was ragged and shallow. He was unconscious, but even in sleep, his brow was furrowed in pain.
You lay there, pinned beneath him, feeling his seed inside you and his tears drying on your chest. You looked at the bruise on his neck. It was a brand of your failure.
You carefully, slowly pushed him off you. He rolled onto his side with a soft groan, curling into a fetal position instantly, seeking warmth.You sat up. You were shivering. The room was cold now that the heat of the moment had passed.
You looked at him. He was beautiful. Even now, messy and exhausted and bruised, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
And you were killing him. It wasn't a metaphor anymore. You were physically hurting him. By keeping him in this situationship, by pretending that your love could override millions of years of evolution, you were denying him the one thing his body needed to be healthy: a true mate.
If he had been with an Alpha—Jay, Jennie, even that girl Minji—they could have bitten him. They could have knotted him. He would be asleep right now with a smile on his face, the bond humming in his blood, the heat broken and satisfied.
Instead, he was passed out from trauma, sporting a bruise instead of a bite.
"I'm sorry," you whispered into the silent room. "I was so selfish."
You thought you were protecting him from Alphas who might treat him like a trophy. But in reality, you were the one treating him like a possession. You were keeping him for yourself because you needed him, ignoring the fact that he needed something else.You stood up. Your legs were shaky. You felt liquid running down your thighs—a stark reminder of the intimacy you had just shared, and how futile it was.
You walked to the bathroom.You showered. You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash off the scent of burnt sugar and failure. You watched the water swirl down the drain, taking your hopes with it.
You dressed in the clothes you had arrived in a week ago. Jeans. Hoodie. Sneakers. They felt like armor. You went to the kitchen. It was quiet. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. You opened the pantry. You needed to do one last thing for him. You couldn't leave him to wake up hungry. You pulled out the ingredients for Kimchi stew. It was his comfort food. You moved automatically. Chopping the kimchi, slicing the tofu, measuring the water. You stood over the stove, stirring the pot, letting the steam warm your face. You poured your love into the food because you couldn't pour it into a bond.When it was done, you ladled it into a glass container. You placed it on the top shelf of the fridge, right at eye level. You grabbed a sticky note.
You held the pen, your hand trembling. What could you say? I love you? No. That would make him chase you. I'm sorry? Not enough.
You wrote:
Jake,
Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.
- Y/N
It was cold. It was practical. It was the note of a friend, not a lover. It was a wall.
You walked back into the bedroom.
The air was still thick with his scent. It made your wolf—the tiny, dormant thing inside you—whine in protest. Mate, it whispered. Don't leave mate.
"Shut up," you told yourself. "He's not ours."
You placed a fresh glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand next to his head.You looked at him one last time. You memorized the curve of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep. You memorized the ugly purple bruise on his neck so you would never, ever forget why you had to leave.
You bent down. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss the bruise and apologize.
But you didn't. If you touched him, you wouldn't leave.
You straightened up. "You need an Alpha, Jake," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Not a Beta who plays pretend."
You grabbed your bag. You walked to the door. You stepped out into the hallway. The click of the lock sliding home sounded like a gunshot.
The walk back to your apartment was a blur.
It was late. The campus was quiet. The streetlights blurred into streaks of light as your eyes filled with tears you refused to shed.
You made it to your building. You made it up the stairs. You made it into your apartment.You locked the door.And then, you collapsed.You slid down the door until you hit the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your arms.The tears came then. Not quiet, polite tears. Ugly, heaving sobs that shook your entire body. You wailed into your knees, the sound muffled by the fabric of your jeans.
You cried for the boy you loved.
You cried for the biology that hated you.
You cried for the bite you couldn't give.
You decided then and there. No more situationship. No more "friends with benefits." No more holding him while he cried for someone else.You had to be the villain. You had to be the one to cut the cord.He would hate you. He would scream. He would cry.
But eventually, the pain would fade. Eventually, his heat would come again. And without you there to enable him, he would be forced to seek out an Alpha. He would find someone who could truly claim him. He would be happy.
And you?You would be the Beta in the background. The guard dog who finally opened the gate and let the wolf run free.You sat there on the floor of your dark apartment, crying until your throat was raw, mourning a relationship that was doomed before it ever began.
The Next Morning Jake woke up to silence.
The sun was streaming through the blinds, hitting him right in the face. He groaned, shielding his eyes. His body felt like he had been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. His head was pounding. His neck...
He reached up. His neck throbbed with a dull, bruised pain.
Memory washed over him in fragments.The heat. The desperation. The biting. The failure. "Y/N?" he rasped.
He rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cool.
"Y/N?" he called louder, panic starting to prickle in his chest.
He sat up, ignoring the dizziness.
"Y/N!"
Silence. He saw the water on the nightstand. The painkillers.
He scrambled out of bed, his legs weak. He stumbled into the kitchen.
Empty.He saw the note on the counter. He picked it up.
Jake,
Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.
- Y/N
He stared at the handwriting. It was neat. Steady.
He crumpled the note in his fist.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
He ran to the front door. He yanked it open and looked out into the hallway, as if hoping you were just standing there.
Empty. She was gone. She had packed her bag. She had cooked him food. She had medicated him. And she had left.
Jake slid down the doorframe, clutching the crumpled note to his chest.
He felt the bruise on his neck throb. It wasn't a claim. It was a goodbye kiss.
Tears welled in his eyes, hot and fast.
"You idiot," he sobbed into the empty apartment. "You think you're saving me? You're just breaking me." But he was too weak to chase you. His heat was broken, but his body was exhausted. He curled up on the doormat, holding the note, and cried for the Alpha he didn't want and the Beta he couldn't keep.
The silence between two people who have shared a soul since childhood is not empty; it is heavy. It is a physical weight that presses down on your chest, making every breath a conscious effort.
For the first two weeks after you walked out of his apartment, Jake didn't let you go easily. He was Jake. He was the boy who had clung to your leg on the first day of kindergarten. He didn't understand the concept of giving up on you.
His name lit up your phone screen constantly.
Jake (8:02 AM): Y/N, please. Just talk to me.
Jake (12:30 PM): I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said during the heat. I was out of my mind. It wasn’t real.
Jake (7:45 PM): I’m outside your door. I know you’re in there. I can hear you walking. Please open up.
Jake (11:00 PM): Did I hurt you? Is that why? I’ll never ask for a bite again. I promise. Just come back.
You read every single one. You read them sitting on the floor of your living room, your back pressed against the door he was knocking on.
You listened to his knuckles rap against the wood.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Then a pause.
"Y/N?" his voice muffled, thick with unshed tears. "Please."
It took every ounce of willpower you possessed not to rip the door open. Your body screamed at you to go to him. Your heart ached with a physical sharpness that felt like a heart attack. But then you would remember the bruise. You would remember the way he looked at you with golden, delirious eyes and screamed for an Alpha. You would remember the way your teeth had failed to break his skin, leaving him sobbing in frustration. You weren't saving yourself. You were saving him. So you stayed silent. You let the tears stream down your face in the dark, biting your own hand to keep from sobbing aloud, until his footsteps finally retreated down the hall.
By the third week, the knocking stopped. The texts slowed down to a trickle, then ceased.
Jake Sim was sweet. He was kind. He was the type of boy who rescued spiders and apologized to inanimate objects when he bumped into them. He wasn't the type to harass someone who clearly wanted to be left alone.
He respected your decision, even though it was killing him.
But the campus was small, and the pack was smaller. You couldn't avoid seeing him.
The first time you saw him after the "breakup" (if you could call it that), it was in the cafeteria. You walked in, tray in hand, head down, trying to be invisible.
You looked up and froze. Jake was sitting at a large round table in the center of the room. He was surrounded. Jay was there, laughing loudly. Sunghoon was leaning in, saying something that made Jake smile—a small, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. There were other Omegas there too, giggling and preening.
Jake was the sun. He had always been the sun. Even when he was an unpresented, shy kid, people were drawn to his warmth. Now that he was a presented Omega with a scent like heaven, he was a gravitational singularity.
And you? You stood by the condiment station, alone. You realized, with a crushing wave of clarity, just how much of your social life had been Jake.
People didn't talk to you because you were Y/N. They talked to you because you were the gatekeeper to Jake. You were the Shield. Without the person to protect, you were just... a Beta. A background extra in the movie of his life.
You took your tray to a small table in the far corner, near the trash cans. You sat with your back to the room. You didn't see it, but across the cafeteria, Jake had stopped eating. He was staring at the back of your head. His hand was gripping his fork so hard his knuckles were white.
"Jake?" Jay asked, touching his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Jake whispered, tearing his eyes away from your lonely figure. "I'm fine."
Pack Nights were mandatory for the Silver River Collective. It was a time for community, for reinforcing the bonds that kept the wolves together.
Usually, Pack Night was your favorite. You and Jake would sit on a blanket near the fire, roasting marshmallows, making fun of Marcus, and sharing earbuds. You were a unit. A two-person pack within the pack.
This month, you went alone. You arrived late, slipping into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The fire was roaring, casting long, dancing shadows against the pine trees. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the intermingled scents of a hundred wolves. You sat on a cold log, pulling your knees to your chest.
You scanned the crowd. You found him instantly. It was impossible not to.
He was sitting near the Elders, a place of honor for high-ranking wolves. He was wearing a thick cream-colored sweater that looked soft enough to melt into. He was flanked by Heeseung and Sunghoon—two powerful Alphas who looked like his personal bodyguards. Heeseung was peeling an orange for him. Sunghoon was draping a blanket over his shoulders. They were taking care of him. They were doing your job. And they were doing it better. They were Alphas. They could offer him protection you couldn't.
A lump formed in your throat, hot and choking. You felt a wave of jealousy so potent it made your vision swim. That's my spot, you wanted to scream. That's my blanket. That's my Omega. As if he heard your thoughts, Jake turned his head.
He looked past the fire, past the Alphas, past the crowd. His eyes locked onto yours in the darkness. Even from fifty feet away, you could see the devastation on his face. He didn't look happy to be pampered. He looked lonely. He looked like a kid who had lost his mom in the grocery store. He made a movement to stand up. He placed his hands on the ground, ready to push himself up and come to you.
You panicked. If he came over here... if he looked at you with those sad, wide eyes... you would break. You would beg him to take you back, and the cycle would start all over again. The heat. The failure. The pain. You stood up abruptly. You turned and walked away, disappearing into the tree line. You didn't see Jake sink back down onto the blanket, his shoulders slumping in defeat. You didn't see him push the orange away, his appetite gone.
Three more weeks passed.
You were approaching your twenty-first birthday. The cutoff. The day you would officially, medically be declared a Beta for life.
But instead of settling into acceptance, your body was revolting.
It started subtly. You were in your dorm room, trying to study for a Business Law exam. Your roommate, Sarah, was chewing gum.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Usually, you could tune it out. Today, it sounded like a gunshot next to your ear.
"Can you stop?" you snapped, your voice harsh in the quiet room.
Sarah jumped, looking at you with wide eyes. "Whoa. Sorry. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," you gritted out, rubbing your temples. "It's just loud."
"It's gum, Y/N."
"Just stop!" you slammed your book shut.
The anger was sudden and white-hot. It felt like a physical thing living in your chest, a caged animal throwing itself against your ribs. You stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving Sarah bewildered. Then came the nights. You couldn't sleep. You would toss and turn, kicking off the blankets because you were burning up, then pulling them back on because you were freezing. You woke up every morning soaking wet. Your sheets were damp with sweat. You showered three times a day, scrubbing your skin raw, but you never felt clean. You felt... sticky. Heavy. Like your skin was too tight for your body. "You look terrible," your reflection told you in the mirror. You had dark circles under your eyes. You looked pale, gaunt. But your eyes... there was something strange about your eyes. They looked brighter. Sharper.
"Stress," you told yourself. "It's just stress. Heartbreak is a physical illness."
You were starving. Always.
You ate four meals a day and were still ravenous. You craved meat. Rare meat. You found yourself ordering steaks at the campus diner and eating them like you hadn't seen food in weeks. "Growth spurt?" the waitress joked as she cleared your third plate. "Something like that," you muttered, feeling shameful. You stopped going to lectures.The lecture halls were too loud. Too smelly. That was the worst part—the smell. Suddenly, your nose was a superpower you didn't want. You could smell everyone. You could smell the Alpha in the front row who hadn't showered. You could smell the Omega three rows back who was wearing cherry blossom perfume. You could smell the fear on the students before a test. It was overwhelming. It was a sensory assault.So you stayed in your apartment. You drew the blinds. You sat in the dark. You were convinced you were having a nervous breakdown. You were convinced the grief of losing Jake had finally snapped your mind.
Jake noticed.
He noticed you weren't in your usual seat in Business Law. He noticed you weren't in the cafeteria. He noticed you hadn't been to the library in a week.
He was terrified.
He sat in his Music Theory class, staring at his phone. He typed out a text.
Are you okay? (Deleted)
I haven't seen you. (Deleted)
Please just tell me you're alive. (Deleted)
He respected your space because you asked him to. He loved you enough to let you go. But the silence was driving him insane. He started walking past your apartment building at night. He would stand on the sidewalk across the street, looking up at your window. The lights were always off.
"Where are you?" he whispered to the cold wind. "Y/N, where are you?"
He didn't know you were right there, sitting on the floor in the dark, clutching a pillow that smelled faintly like him, shivering through another wave of cold sweat.
The agitation became aggression.
You went to the corner store to buy water (you were so thirsty, all the time).
A guy bumped into you in the aisle. A tall, burly Alpha.
"Watch it," he grunted, not looking at you. Usually, you would have mumbled an apology and moved on. You were a Beta. You stepped aside for Alphas.
Not today. A low, vibrating sound started in your chest. It wasn't a word. It was a growl. The Alpha stopped. He turned slowly, looking at you. He looked confused. He was looking for the source of the sound, but he was looking right over your head. He didn't register you as the threat.
"Did you say something?" he sneered. You looked up at him. You felt a strange, cold calm wash over you. You looked at his neck. You visualized exactly where the jugular vein was.
"I said," you spoke, your voice dropping an octave, sounding rough and unrecognizable, "You're in my way."
The Alpha blinked. He took a step back. He looked unsettled. He couldn't explain why—you were just a small girl—but his instincts were telling him to move.
"Whatever, freak," he muttered, hurrying away.
You stood there, shaking.
What is happening to me?
You ran home. You locked the door. You curled up in your bed and cried.
Jake couldn't take it anymore. He had heard rumors. People were saying you looked sick. People were saying you had snapped at a professor. He bought a birthday gift. It was a small box. Inside was a silver bracelet with a charm shaped like a pea pod. Two little peas inside. He walked to your apartment. He stood outside your door. He could hear movement inside. Heavy, pacing footsteps. Like a caged animal.
He raised his hand to knock. But then, he smelled it. Through the crack in the door, a scent was leaking out. It wasn't your usual detergent scent. It wasn't the smell of illness. It was faint, but it was there.
Burnt Cedar. Honey. Dark Rum. It was the scent of a dominant Alpha. Jake froze. His heart hammered.
Is she with someone?
The thought nearly brought him to his knees. Had you moved on already? Was there an Alpha in there with you? Was that why you were missing classes? Were you... nesting? Tears pricked his eyes. He lowered his hand.
He couldn't interrupt. If you were with a mate, if you had found happiness... he had to let you have it. That was the deal. He placed the small box on the doormat. "Happy Birthday, Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking. He turned and walked away, leaving you alone with a monster you didn't know you were becoming.
You were dying.
That was the only explanation. It was 11:00 PM. One hour until you turned twenty-one.Your apartment was a wreck. You had ripped the sheets off the bed because they were too rough. You had thrown a lamp across the room because the light was too bright. You were pacing the living room, naked, sweating profusely.
Your skin felt like it was splitting open. Your bones felt like they were lengthening, cracking, reshaping. The pain was blinding. You fell to your knees on the rug.
"Jake," you groaned. You didn't want to say it. You had promised to let him go. But in the face of this agony, your brain reverted to its default setting.
Jake. Jake. Jake. You needed him. You didn't know why. You just knew that if you didn't smell peaches and rain right now, you were going to shatter.
You crawled toward your phone, which was lying on the floor where you had dropped it hours ago.
You picked it up. Your vision was blurry, red around the edges.
You dialed his number. It rang once.
"Y/N?"
His voice was breathless, panicked. He picked up on the first ring.
"Jake," you rasped. Your voice sounded terrifying. It sounded like gravel grinding together.
"Y/N? What's wrong? You sound... are you sick?"
"Help," you choked out. "Hurts. Dying."
"I'm coming," he said instantly. No hesitation. No questions. "I'm coming right now. Don't move."
The line went dead. You dropped the phone. You curled into a ball on the rug, shivering violently. The clock on the wall ticked.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
11:58 PM.
11:59 PM.
The heat inside you hit a crescendo. It wasn't a fever anymore. It was an explosion.
A wave of energy ripped through your body, starting at the base of your spine and shooting out to your fingertips. You screamed, your back arching.
And then, the dam broke. The scent exploded out of you.
Thick. Heavy. Dominant.
Cedar forests burning in the night. The sharp tang of lightning (ozone). The deep, intoxicating warmth of spiced rum. It filled the room instantly. It saturated the furniture, the walls, the air.
12:30 AM.
You weren't dying. You were arriving.
The door burst open. The door didn't just open; it slammed against the wall, the handle punching a hole in the plaster.
Jake stood in the threshold, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat from his sprint across campus. He had burst in expecting a tragedy. He expected to find you sick, dying, or worse—nesting with the Alpha whose scent he had smelled outside.
"Y/N!" he screamed, scanning the dark room.
Then, the air hit him. It wasn't a drift of scent anymore. It was a tsunami.
It rolled over him in a physical wave—thick, suffocating, and terrifyingly potent. Burnt Cedar. Honey, dark Rum. It was the scent of a Prime Alpha, a dominant force of nature entering a Presentation Rut.
And it was coming from you. You were on the floor in the center of the rug, curled into a ball, shaking violently. You were naked, your skin glowing with a feverish, supernatural sheen. Jake froze. His brain short-circuited. There is no other Alpha, his mind whispered, the realization shattering his reality. It’s her. It’s always been her. And then, his biology answered.Jake’s suppressants, which he had been taking religiously since you left, evaporated instantly. The sheer force of your pheromones reached into his genetic code and flipped a switch.
His knees buckled. He gasped, clutching the doorframe, as a bolt of liquid fire shot through his veins. It wasn't the slow build of a normal heat. It was a flash flood. His scent glands flared open, dumping a concentrated cloud of Ripe Peaches and Heavy Cream into the room to meet your Cedar.
"Y/N," he groaned, the sound wrecked and wet.
You lifted your head. Jake stopped breathing.
Your eyes were no longer the soft, familiar color he had known since kindergarten. They were glowing. A deep, burning, bioluminescent red. The color of embers in a dying fire. The color of a predator.
You looked at him, and for a second, he saw the animal inside you assess him.
He stared back. His own irises flooded with gold, the pupil blowing wide until his eyes were pools of molten honey.
"Jake," you growled.
It wasn't your voice. It was a command that vibrated in the floorboards.
"It's you," Jake whimpered, stumbling forward, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. He didn't lock it; he didn't care. "It was you all along." You didn't answer. You couldn't speak human words anymore. Your brain was entirely offline, replaced by the singular, driving need of a rutting Alpha who had just found her mate.
You uncoiled from the floor with terrifying speed. You didn't stand; you launched yourself at him. Jake met you halfway. You collided in the center of the living room with the force of two planets crashing. You grabbed him, your hands searing hot against his cold leather jacket. You slammed him back against the wall, the impact knocking a picture frame to the floor."Mine," you snarled, burying your face in his neck. You inhaled violently, dragging the scent of him into your lungs like oxygen.
"Yours," Jake sobbed, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him. "I'm yours, Alpha. I'm yours."
You kissed him. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a devouring.
Your mouths clashed, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate war for dominance. He tasted like salt and desperation. You tasted like fire.
Jake made a noise against your mouth—a high, needy whine that drove you insane. He wrapped his legs around your waist, jumping into your arms, trusting your new Alpha strength to hold him up.
You caught him easily. You felt powerful. You felt limitless.
You carried him to the bedroom, not breaking the kiss. You kicked the door open and stumbled toward the bed, which was stripped bare to the mattress.
You threw him down. He bounced on the mattress, looking up at you with those wide, golden eyes. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached for the zipper of his jacket, his hands shaking so hard he couldn't grasp the metal.
"Help me," he begged, his voice cracking. "Take it off. Please. I need skin. I need you."
You didn't have patience for zippers. You ripped the jacket open, popping the mechanism. You tore his t-shirt over his head. You shoved his jeans down his hips.
He helped you, kicking wildly to rid himself of the fabric.
When he was finally naked, sprawled out on your mattress under the moonlight filtering through the blinds, he looked like an offering. His skin was flushed pink, his nipples hard, his scent gland pulsing on his neck.
You crawled over him. The visual of you—a Female Alpha, powerful, muscles defined by the tension of the rut, eyes glowing red—hovering over him broke Jake completely. "Alpha," he whined, reaching up to trace the line of your jaw. "You're so beautiful. You're so strong."
You didn't wait. You couldn't. You settled between his legs. The heat radiating from him was intense, scorching your inner thighs. He was slick—his body producing the natural lubricant of an Omega in distress.
"Fill me," Jake pleaded, his hips bucking upward, seeking contact. "Fix me. You're the only one who can fix it."
You aligned yourself with him. This was different from before. Before, you were two friends trying to make biology work. Now, you were lock and key.
You guided him to your entrance. He was hard, weeping, desperate.
You sank down. "Oh, god!" Jake screamed, throwing his head back into the pillow.
The sensation was blinding.
Because you were presenting, because you were in a rut, your internal anatomy had shifted. You were tighter, hotter, your muscles gripping him with a possessive intensity that felt completely different.
You took him all the way in, until your pelvis ground against his.
"Y/N," he babbled, his eyes rolling back. "So hot. You're so hot."
You began to move.It was primal. You grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the mattress above his head. You dominated him completely. You set the pace—a punishing, grinding rhythm that forced cries out of him with every thrust.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with his wet, broken moans and your low, guttural growls. You leaned down, capturing his mouth again. You kissed him deeply, your tongue sweeping his mouth, tasting him, owning him. You swallowed his cries, drinking them down like wine.
Jake was a mess beneath you. He was thrashing, his hips snapping up to meet yours, trying to get deeper, trying to fuse his body to yours.
"Deep," he mumbled against your lips. "Deeper. Don't leave any space."
"I'm right here," you growled against his neck. "I'm inside you. I'm keeping you."
Your wolf was singing. Mate. Mate. Perfect Mate. He smelled right. He felt right. The way he submitted to you, baring his throat, hands around your waist to pull you closer—it was exactly what your Alpha instincts needed.
The tension built rapidly. This wasn't a marathon; it was a sprint to the claim.
You felt the pressure in your lower abdomen spike. It was a cramping sensation, heavy and inevitable. Your body was preparing the trap. "Jake," you panted, looking down at him. Your red eyes bore into his golden ones. "I'm going to lock."
Fear flickered in his eyes for a microsecond—the fear of the unknown—but it was instantly drowned out by longing.
"Do it," he commanded, his voice raw. "Trap me. Don't let me go. Never let me go."
He thrust up, burying himself as deep as he could go, and held it there.
You let go. You cried out, a roar tearing from your throat as your orgasm hit.
And then, it happened.
Deep inside you, the Alpha muscles—the mechanism you didn't know you had until today—slammed shut. It was a violent, powerful contraction. Your internal walls rippled and clamped down around the base of him, creating a vacuum seal. It was tighter than anything you had ever felt. It was a vice grip.
Jake screamed.
"Y/N! Y/N! Oh my god!"
The sensation of being gripped that tightly, of being literally milked by your body, sent him over the edge instantly. He shattered. He convulsed in your arms, his body bowing off the mattress. He poured himself into you, his release unending, triggered and sustained by the crushing pressure of your lock.
"I can't—it's too much—Alpha!" he sobbed, shaking violently.
But you couldn't stop. You were locked. Your body had him. You were holding him prisoner in the most intimate way possible. You collapsed forward, your chest heaving against his. You were fused together.
But the ritual wasn't done. The heat was broken, the rut was satisfied, but the bond needed the seal. The scent in the room was now a perfect, swirling nebula of your combined essences. Burnt Cedar and Peaches and Cream.
You lifted your head. Jake was panting, his face wet with tears and sweat. He looked wrecked. He looked divine. He saw where you were looking. He saw your eyes fixate on his neck. He didn't flinch this time. He didn't cry out for a stranger. He tilted his head back, exposing the gland. The bruise you had left weeks ago had faded to a faint yellow shadow. It was ready.
"Please," he whispered, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "Make it permanent. I don't want to be anyone else's. I only want you."
You lowered your head. You licked the skin first, tasting the salt, tasting the pulse that fluttered frantically beneath the surface.
Then, you opened your mouth. Your canines—longer now, sharper, designed for this exact moment—grazed his skin.
You bit down.
Crunch.
It was a sickening, beautiful sound. Your teeth pierced the tough skin of the scent gland, sinking deep into the muscle. Jake cried out—a sharp, high sound of pain—but he immediately grabbed the back of your head and shoved you closer.
"Yes!" he hissed through his teeth. You clamped down. You felt the connection snap into place like a physical tether. It wasn't just blood you tasted; it was his soul. A flood of emotions that weren't yours crashed into your brain. Relief. Safety. Overwhelming love. Belonging. You pushed your own feelings back down the bond.
Possession. Adoration. Protection. Forever. You held the bite, your jaw locked, marking him, changing his biology, writing your name on his very DNA.
After what felt like an eternity, you slowly released the pressure. You licked the wound, your saliva sealing the puncture marks, leaving behind the jagged, raised scar of a Mated Omega. You pulled back to look at him. Jake was limp beneath you. His eyes were rolling back in his head, a look of pure, drugged bliss on his face. He was floating in the endorphin rush of the bite. "Mine," you growled, your voice rough.
Jake blinked, focusing on you slowly. He reached up, touching the fresh mark on his neck. He smiled—a messy, tear-stained, radiant smile.
"Yours," he whispered. "Finally."
The lock didn't release for twenty minutes.
You stayed there, joined, breathing the same air. The red faded from your eyes, settling into a warm, dark brown. The gold in Jake's eyes softened back to his deep doe-eyed color. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the muscles that had emerged during your presentation. "I knew it," he murmured, his voice raspy.
"You knew what?" you asked, kissing the tip of his nose.
"I knew you weren't a Beta. I knew you were special." He chuckled, a weak sound. "Though I didn't expect... this." He gestured to the intensity of the room. "You're a powerhouse, Y/N."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I made you wait."
"Shh," he silenced you with a soft kiss. "You didn't make me wait. You were cooking. You needed to bake until you were ready."
He shifted his hips, wincing slightly as the knot finally began to loosen.
"Besides," he smirked, a flash of his old playful self returning. "The stew you left was really good."
You laughed, a sound of pure relief. "You ate the stew?"
"Of course I ate the stew. It was made with love. And guilt. But mostly love."
The knot released. You pulled away slowly, the separation leaving a phantom ache. You rolled off him, collapsing onto the mattress beside him. Jake immediately rolled over, draping his arm and leg over you, burying his face in your neck. He took a deep breath of your new scent.
"Cedar," he hummed happily. "I love cedar now."
"I love peaches," you replied, wrapping your arm around him.
The sun came up, but you didn't move.
You were in a nest. Sometime during the night, instinct had taken over. You had pulled every blanket, pillow, and piece of clothing within reach onto the bed.
Jake was asleep on your chest, drooling slightly. The bite mark on his neck was angry and red, but it was healing. It was real.
You traced the line of his spine. You felt different. The anxiety that had plagued you for years—the feeling of being invisible, of being a "dud"—was gone. You felt grounded. You felt heavy in a good way. You knew exactly who you were.
You were Y/N. The Alpha. Jake’s Mate. Jake stirred. He lifted his head, blinking sleepily. He looked at you, then at the bite mark on his reflection in the mirror across the room.
He grinned.
"Happy Birthday, Alpha," he whispered.
"Best birthday ever," you agreed.
"So," he traced circles on your chest. "Since we're mated now... and since you're in a rut... and since I'm in heat..."
"Yeah?"
"We have about four days of lost time to make up for."
He climbed on top of you, his eyes darkening with intent.
"Can you handle it?" he teased.
You grabbed his hips, flipping him over so you were hovering above him again. You flashed your eyes—just a flicker of red—and saw him shiver with delight.
"I can handle you, Jake Sim," you promised. "I was made to handle you."
"Two peas in a pod," he breathed, pulling you down for a kiss.
"Two peas in a pod."
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〔 𝒾 〕 ────── After a fight between you and your roommate escalates to you getting kicked out of your dorm, your best friend and his frat invite you to stay with them at their frat house. You really shouldn't have said yes, but you can't ever say no to Hueningkai, your closest friend since you were small. You've always seen him as nothing but a brother, but all it takes is one conversation and one rumor to change everything you've ever thought about your sweet, shy, innocent best friend. Tensions rise as you uncover the only secret of his he's ever hid from you, revealing a side of Huening you didn't know existed. Is there any way to get out of this without ruining everything?
❪ 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 ❫ 휴닝카이 x 𝑓!reader ────── 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 ᪥ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈
𓄵𝒻t。 various members of txt and enhypen, jeongin of stray kids, named OC for taehyun's girlfriend
𝘨enre » smut with plot some angst slowburn childhood friends to lovers greek life college au
𓄵𝓉w。implied chubby/plus size reader rough sex bdsm bondage dubcon themes at points hard dom!kai sexual awakenings manhandling spanking impact play degredation and praise intense dirty talk panty stealing and sniffing perv!kai sex toys voyuerism enthusiastic consent unprotected sex condom mentioned but not used creampie hair pulling size kink vaginal fingering piv alcohol and marijuana mentions ╱ 177OO WORDS
밤비。holy shit she's here. hold on to your asses people.
“Guys,” you announce once you step through the front entrance of the Alpha Kappa fraternity house, “I think I might be homeless.”
Everyone’s on the couch when you reach the common room. Heeseung and Soobin had controllers in their hands, playing some kind of fighting game on the TV while the others all watch— Beomgyu and Yeonjun bicker over a bowl of chips, while Taehyun ignores them the best he can while being seated in between them. Huening Kai sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes swinging back and forth from his Nintendo Switch and his friends’ argument. Jay and Jake were chatting animatedly between themselves, Jake’s excited hands nearly knocking the controller out of Heeseung’s. Jungwon and Sunghoon sat adjacent to them on the loveseat, watching everything unfold in silence as if they were observing zoo animals.
At the sound of your voice, all conversation ceases, and everyone’s head snaps to your attention.
“…What?” one of them asks after a moment of silence.
“I think I’m homeless now. I don’t know, it’s kind of still up in the air.”
“What do you mean, you’re homeless?” Beomgyu echoes incredulously, “Did your dorm burn down or something?”
“I got kicked out.” You reveal, deadpan. “Can you fucking believe that? Remember what I told you guys about last week, with my roommate and her boyfriend? Somehow,I find her on our couch fucking some other guy, and it’s my fault that the cops got called. I wasn’t even the one who told her boyfriend!”
Huening Kai stares up at you in horror. “The cops?!”
“Someone in our building called in a noise complaint because they were screaming at each other, and she goes and tells both our RA and the police that it was me that was freaking out. And they believed her! I don’t know what other awful lies she was telling the RA about, but he served me eviction papers today. When there’s no space in any of the other dorms! Where am I supposed to sleep?! Outside on the street?!”
The boys all blink at you in disbelief.
“You could go back to stay with your parents, maybe?” Heeseung offers tentatively. His and Soobin’s video game characters stood motionless on the screen.
“They live too far away.” You grumble in despair. “It’d take me over an hour to get to and from campus.”
“That’s not too bad.” Beomgyu supplies with an awkward laugh. With Yeonjun distracted, he’s managed to hoard the chip bowl all to himself. “My older brother drives an hour just to get to work.”
“Then your brother’s a fucking masochist.” You hiss. “I’m not doing that to myself.”
“Are you sure there’s nowhere else for you to stay, at least for a little while? You should really talk to the dean, getting kicked out for something like that has got to be, like, illegal or something.” Jake adjusts his glasses. He only wears them when he’s comfortable with his frat brothers; something about how he doesn’t want the girls to think that he’s a nerd. (He is.)
“I did talk to the dean. Gosh, Jake, do you think I’m stupid or something?” You’re getting a little uncomfortable, standing awkwardly with your arms crossed while everyone else is sitting and staring at you. You quickly find a spot on the floor next to Huening, who wraps his arm around your shoulders comfortingly.
The two of you have been attached at the hip since you could walk, practically growing up together as your mothers were best friends. With no siblings of your own, Kai filled in the role of your protective older brother, his sisters your sisters. You’re the only reason Kai applied to university in the first place, and he’s the only reason why you spend so much time with his fraternity brothers. They even call you their “honorary brother”, especially Beomgyu because he knows how much you hate it.
Being in Kai’s embrace calms you down almost immediately, his warmth enveloping you like a thick fluffy blanket. Even sitting down he towers over you, but instead of making you uneasy it just makes you feel safe. Your gentle giant.
“Holy shit, you really are homeless.” Jungwon finally pipes up from the loveseat, snickering like it was funny. You think he might be high.
“What are you going to do?” Soobin asks you softly, expression laced with concern.
“Sleep in my car, I guess.” You lament, resting your head on Kai’s shoulder. “The dean said he’d ‘look into it’, whatever that means. Who knows how long that’ll take.”
“You can stay here.” Kai suddenly blurts out.
The room is shocked into silence once again.
“No, she can’t.” Heeseung immediately responds, like it was obvious. It stings a little.
“What? Why not?” Kai gawks up at him in betrayal. “She’s here almost every day anyway, what’s the difference if she sleeps here too?”
“It’s against the rules.”
“Since when did you care about the rules?” Yeonjun guffaws. “You broke our new table dancing with a girl like, last week.”
“Yeah, and I’m still in deep shit with our sponsor over it! Listen, as president, whenever somebody gets caught doing something it’s me who gets their ass kicked. We’re getting extra inspections this semester ‘cos of that damn table, do you know how much shit I would be in if they caught a girl living in here?!”
Kai mumbles something that sounds an awfully lot like “Well, who’s fault is that?”, but either you misunderstood or Heeseung didn’t hear.
“I don’t see a problem with it.” Soobin defends, “Y/N has classes literally all day, so she’d hardly even be here. If worst comes to worst, we can always hide her under a mattress.”
“She can stay with me!” Kai adds brightly, eyes shining, “I have an extra closet she can use.”
“But you share a bedroom with Taehyun. There won’t be any room for me.” you mutter.
“He’s never home! He’s always out at the gym or with his girlfriend. You can take his side!”
“Hey?” Taehyun cuts in.
“I’m not sleeping in Taehyun’s bed, that’s gross! He’s fucked his girlfriend on that bed.”
“Then I’ll sleep on it, and you can take my bed!” Kai responds brightly, “…After washing the sheets.”
“Do I have a say in this?” Taehyun cuts in again.
You sigh as Yeonjun and Beomgyu erupt into loud laughter. “I’m so sorry Tyun, I don’t want to intrude on your space or anything—”
“No, I mean, I’m fine with it.” He replies passively. “I’ll just spend the nights at my girl’s place.”
“I— you are?!”
Heeseung looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Can we vote? I say we vote.”
“I don’t care either way.” Sunghoon speaks for the first time. He seems just as high as Jungwon is.
“Kai’s right, she is here all the time. I don’t think it’ll make much difference.” Jake says.
Heeseung’s face droops. “This isn’t voting.”
“If everyone’s fine with it, then who cares?” Beomgyu nudges him. “If anything happens, tell ‘em it’s all Kai’s fault.”
Heeseung bites the inside of his cheek, silent for a long moment before surrendering. “…Fine. Fine. Sure, okay, whatever. Just— this is temporary, okay? Just until you get everything sorted out with your crazy ass roommate.”
Things don’t get sorted out with your roommate. At least, not as fast as you had hoped— one week turns to two, and then three, and far too quickly you realize that it’s been an entire month since your eviction and you haven’t heard a single thing from either the dean or your RA. You’ve reached out more than a few times, but the response is always the same; “We’re looking into it.”
The office stops answering your calls entirely around the two-month mark. Early on, when they asked you if you had found ‘emergency temporary housing,’ you sheepishly said yes, which clearly was enough for them to put your case on the backburner indefinitely. You let yourself believe that it’s just because of the midterms, and that things will get sorted out eventually. It’s for the sake of your mental health.
Meanwhile, life at the frat house falls into a strange routine. You wake up, get ready in the bathroom while the boys pound on the door and complain about you taking too long. Kai drives you to class and he picks you up afterwards, even though his football practice ends at 6:00 and you have classes until 8:30. Sometimes you spend time with everyone in the common room, but most nights you run straight upstairs to hog all the hot water before somebody starts whining. Kai gives you his bed just as he promised, migrating to take over Taehyun’s side of the bedroom himself. Sharing a space with him is natural and easy, reminding you of when you used to sleep over at his parents’ house all summer long as a kid. It’s kind of weird, giggling with him late into the night, playing video games together and watching your favorite childhood shows, being told that it was time to go home and that ‘home’ meant with him. Your relationship was never quite the same after you both hit puberty, your close and physically affectionate friendship suddenly swinging from cute and innocent to inappropriate. Your mother stopped letting you stay the night. Kai was no longer allowed to close his bedroom door when you hung out. His little sister asked you once if you were his girlfriend and looked confused when you tried to laugh it off.
By high school, you started to wonder if maybe your relationship with Kai really was inappropriate. Your first boyfriend threatened to punch him in the face on multiple occasions and then accused you of lying when you told him you were just friends.
You were just friends. Nothing more. Kai was like a brother to you; you’ve never felt anything for him other than familial affection… not since you were little, at least.
Maybe all the reminiscing was why the feelings were coming back after nearly twenty years.
You try to ignore it. You ignored how your heart skips when he makes you coffee in the morning. You ignored how he grinned when you latched onto him during a scary movie, and how the butterflies fluttering in your belly weren’t from fear. And you ignore how your entire body heats up when he walks into his— your? — bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, steam still rising off his skin from the shower, his hair wet and hanging in his eyes. His face turns bright pink all the way up to the tips of his ears when he catches you staring, and you ignore how appetizing the bobbing of his Adam’s apple looked.
“You’re here early.” You point out stupidly, gripping onto your physics textbook like a life buoy. The house was supposed to be mostly empty for the rest of the night, finally quiet for once so you can study. Your laptop was open on your lap, notebooks open and miscellaneous papers strewn across your bedspread.
Kai squirms in place, looking everywhere except at you. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”
Your eyes trail down from his red face and thick neck to his broad chest, soaking in the way the excess shower water runs in rivulets down the curves of his muscles. Big, buff biceps and trim abs, flexing under your gaze— you swallow thickly and force yourself to look back down at your textbook.
You haven’t seen Kai shirtless since he was a scrawny teenager. Since when did he get so… big?
“What are you doing back?” You finally manage to make yourself say, though your voice gets stuck in your dry throat. “I thought you guys had a gig tonight.”
“The show’s been cancelled. Beomgyu got into a fight with the owner of the bar, again. He wouldn’t let him turn the amps all the way up, and hyung said if he can’t play loud, he doesn’t want to play at all. I swear, he can be such a child sometimes!” Huening gets so lost in his frustration that he seems to forget that he’s practically naked—until his towel begins to loosen around his hips, sliding down to reveal his delicious v line. He scrambles to grab hold of it, the pink blush on his cheeks deepening to crimson red. “Can… can you turn around for a second? Or close your eyes…?”
Your stomach flips violently, unable to look away from Kai’s abdomen, and it takes you a moment to register what he said. Shooting straight up in your seat, you gawk, “You’re changing in here?!”
“All the bathrooms are taken.” He explains quietly, scratching his neck. “Sorry.”
“Just… wait?” you squeak. It’s not that you don’t want to move, it’s that you’re pretty sure you can’t. Like you might do something stupid if you do.
“Jake’s in there!” Kai responds in exasperation, his face even redder than before. You watch a droplet of water cascade down the broad planes of his pecs. “He’s gonna take fucking forever on his stupid hair! I don’t have time to wait around for him!”
You can’t stop staring at his twitching abs. They stare right back at you. “What about the other one? The one on the bottom floor?”
“That’s Soobin and Beomgyu’s.” Kai shudders in disgust. “You couldn’t pay me to go in there.”
“Well, what about— wait, what the hell is Jake doing fixing his hair? Are you guys going out?”
Kai looks oddly crestfallen as he answers, “Yeonjun’s throwing a party tonight. All the cheerleaders and their sororities are coming.”
“Tonight!? Was nobody going to bother to tell me?!”
“I thought you knew.” he muttered guiltily. “That’s why I assumed you weren’t home.”
Under normal circumstances, you absolutely would’ve run off at the notion of a frat party. You hate the crowds and the noise, and Kai doesn’t blame you— you’ve run off together from Yeonjun’s parties plenty of times before. But this particular party, the first one he’s thrown since you moved in… you feel oddly brotherly about it. Maybe it was because you were living in the frat house now, but for some strange reason you felt compelled to get up and get ready yourself. If all the boys were going to be there, you might as well be there too. Plus, it’s easier to pretend you don’t live here if you’re downstairs with everyone else instead of hiding in Kai and Taehyun’s bedroom.
Or maybe it was because the thought of Kai being surrounded by cheerleaders makes your stomach hurt. Either way, you do end up standing and getting dressed in your closet.
“Thanks for coming,” Kai calls out to you from the other side of the closet door. “I was scared I was gonna be down there all alone.”
“You wouldn’t be alone, Kai.” You respond, raking your fingers through your hair in a blind attempt to fix it.
“I don’t mean it literally, I mean— I mean I wouldn’t have any fun without you there. I hate not having you with me. It feels… wrong.”
“Sure you could. You’d have all those pretty, skinny little cheerleaders to hang out with.” You spit the word out like it’s venomous.
Kai sighs from behind the door, and you can perfectly imagine his face just from the countless number of times you’ve heard that exact sound. “I don’t care about skinny cheerleaders. I care about you.”
You want to say something, but you can’t find the words.
Frat bros and cheerleaders alike dance and mingle in the dark, red solo cups in their hands, the entire bottom floor packed full and thrumming with the beat of the music. While all the actual partying happens around you, you, Kai and a few of your new roommates huddle around the pool table in the corner of the common room. Beomgyu and Soobin were locked in an extremely serious one-on-one, Beomgyu losing horrifically while he whines and complains about all his failed attempts at wooing his coworker. When Kai had said party, he didn’t bother to specify that it would be a pity party. Though, while you would much rather be in your room listening to the beautiful sound of silence, you can’t help but find some sick enjoyment in Beomgyu’s misery. It sure made you feel a whole lot better about your own love life.
“I just don’t get it.” He sighs deeply, swishing his beer around like he was debating some deep philosophical theory. He takes a long swig from the bottle before handing it over to Soobin and leaning over to position his cue stick. “I’m hilarious, I’m a genius, and I’m smoking hot. Why is it so hard for me to get a girlfriend?!”
“A genius that has a D in his CompSci class.” Heeseung snorts somewhere behind your right shoulder.
“Maybe it’s because you’re a loser.” Soobin teases playfully, taking his own sip from Beomgyu’s beer as he watches him fail to score yet another point. “And you have no game.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” Beomgyu retorts dryly, shoving the cue stick into his hand and snatching back his beer.
Taehyun snickers quietly, perched on a nearby barstool half watching the game and half texting on his phone. “I don’t know, hyung, have you tried just asking her out instead of following her around like a creep? She probably thinks you’re stalking her.”
“I bet he hasn’t even spoken to her.” Huening Kai giggles next to you, his arm slung casually around your waist. The fabric of his hoodie is soft against your cheek, a good place to rest your spinning head. Agreeing to throw back shots with Jake was a terrible idea, Kai pressing a cool glass of ice water against your forehead to keep you from vomiting all over him. You’re grateful you went with your favorite oversized hoodie, the soft worn fabric working like a shield to cover your insecurities. It’s harder to remember to suck in your stomach when you’re drunk.
It was a little past midnight, or maybe later, you stopped checking the time quite a while ago. Yeonjun’s stupid party has been in full swing for hours, with no sign of slowing down— Yeonjun himself was nowhere to be found, probably off somewhere with his sorority girl fanclub. That left the rest of you to fend for yourselves, wasting time until everyone finally decides to get up and leave. It was far too loud to even attempt going upstairs to sleep.
You hear the distinct clack of the cue stick, and the distinctive thumps of the balls falling into the pool table’s pockets. Beomgyu groans loudly and dramatically, drowning out Soobin’s celebratory laughter. “I have talked to her!” he insists, sounding very much like a petulant child. “I talk to her all the time! I walk her to her car every night when we close together, invite her to all our band’s shows, asked for her number— I even made her a Spotify playlist!”
Taehyun doesn’t look up from his phone. “Did she give you her number?”
“No!” Beomgyu shrilly cries, making everyone wince. “She said I have to earn it!”
“Maybe she’s playing hard to get.” You mumble, talking instead of listening for the first time in a while. Beomgyu was among your favorites of Kai’s fraternity brothers, and while it was entertaining to listen to him whine about his unrequited love, you did actually want him to succeed; for the first time in the years you’ve known him he seems interested in a girl beyond just guessing what her cupsize was, which was a pretty big deal for him.
“It sounds more like she wants him to leave her alone.” Huening snickers to you.
“No, no, if she really didn’t like him, she would’ve called the cops on him by now.”
Everyone around the pool table roars with laughter. Beomgyu scowls. “You’re laughing. I’m trying to win over the love of my life and you’re laughing.”
“Don’t give up!” you encourage him drunkenly, peeling yourself off Kai to stumble over and pat his back. “Girls like it when guys yearn. She’s probably waiting for you to do something extra special, to show her you don’t just want to fuck her.”
“But I do want to fuck her.”
You sigh. “Okay, but that’s not all you want, right?”
“God, no! I want to make her mine so bad… I’d ask her to marry me tomorrow if I didn’t think she’d punch me in the face.”
“I don’t blame her for thinking he just wants in his pants.” Beomgyu’s good friend Jeongin says, taking the cue stick from Soobin’s hands. “It’s what he wants when it comes to everybody else.”
“At least he’s not filling us in on every sordid detail of his latest hookup.” Soobin shrugs, stepping back to sit next to Taehyun. “Beomgyu might be a simp, but I honestly see this as an improvement.”
“I’m not a fucking simp!” Beomgyu all but shrieks, drawing the attention of nearby co-eds. “I get so much more pussy than you losers! When was the last time you fucked anything other than a fleshlight? Watching those weird ass videos you like.”
Soobin squirms and blushes. “It’s called hentai and it’s art.”
“And Kai!” Beomgyu spins around to point an accusatory finger at him. “I’ve never managed to see him bag a girl without her running away screaming!”
Kai’s closest brothers all laugh, but everyone else looks confused— including you. Kai? Scaring away girls? That was something you’ve never heard before. Did Beomgyu mean that he was frightening… sexually? You weren’t even convinced that Kai’s had sex at all. He still sleeps with stuffed animals. Jesus, you’re living with him now, and never once have you seen him in any sort of compromising position with any girl, or even by himself. You’ve never heard him talk about anything sexual, or even about girls at all. For his entire life, you’ve seen Kai as some sort of transcendent, sexless being that only cares about music and Pokémon.
It doesn’t sit right with you that Beomgyu might know something about your lifelong best friend that you don’t.
“Kai?” Heeseung echoes skeptically. “What’s he scaring them away with, his Gundam collection?”
“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think Kai would be the one running away screaming, honestly.”
You expect everyone to laugh along with you, and a few do, but you were quickly met with Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun’s awkward silence. Beomgyu looks especially betrayed.
“…What?” you press, cocking your head. “This is Huening we’re talking about, come on.”
“Yeah, Huening.” Beomgyu says, peering over at you like you had grown an extra head. “It’s always over when he starts going all Fifty Shades on them.”
Even with the music blaring, you swear you could hear a pin drop.
“He starts going what?!” you whip around to stare at Kai incredulously, who stood very still behind you. He was refusing to look at you, staring very intently at the pool table, even though everyone had stopped playing minutes ago. The tips of his ears are a bright cherry red. “You start going what?!”
“Oh my God, she doesn’t know!” Soobin cackles madly, turning to look over at Taehyun with wild eyes, who met his gaze with a worryingly entertained grin. “She doesn’t know!”
“I don’t know what?” You feel a little betrayed by Taehyun, if you had to be honest— if anyone would’ve kept their head on, it should have been him. “Kai, what are they talking about?”
Kai was still refusing to make eye contact with you, instead glaring sharp daggers at his friends; he looks genuinely angry, which was an emotion you don’t think you’ve seen on him in at least a decade. “Don’t worry about it, they’re being dicks—”
“Hueningie likes to beat girls!” Beomgyu sang, his cute corner dimples popping out in his delighted, deeply evil grin. “He likes to treat girls like sluts!”
Kai was very silent and worryingly still, nearly burning holes into the hardwood floor. You swore he was shaking under everyone’s shocked stares, unable to see his expression with his bangs covering his eyes. You furrow your brow and blanch; Kai has always been the gentle, unconfrontational kind, but this was far from the reaction you were expecting from him at all.
“There’s no way you don’t know, Y/N, I mean— you’re joking, right? You’ve known him for fucking ever.” Taehyun looks genuinely confused.
"You've been in his room! Like, a thousand times!" Beomgyu guffawed. "He's so fucking bad about putting all of his gross shit away-- once I saw handcuffs still attached to the headboard!"
You blink.
This had to be some sort of joke. They were fucking with you, they had to be. "Are you trying to tell me that Hueningkai, OUR Hueningkai, is— no he's not?! Have you met him? He collects stuffed animals!"
"You haven't looked under his bed yet, then." Taehyun snickers, once again back on his phone— you splutter, both at his words and his nonchalance.
“His special little hiding place,” Beomgyu adds with a snort.
Kai was still eerily silent.
"You've got to be joking.” You insist flatly. “This is a joke. I don't think Kai's seen a pair of boobs in his life—”
“Yes I have. God, I’m not a virgin, Y/N.” Hueningkai mutters stiffly, cutting you off. He looks up at you for the first time in a while, his residual anger lingering on his blushing, grimacing face. His dark eyes stare you down with an intensity you didn’t think he could muster; your stomach flips hard, nearly having you recoil under his stare.
It took you an embarrassing second to register what he even said. "Oh. Um—”
"I'm not some fucking loser." he repeats, his voice calm but deep and frighteningly dark, and it hit you quite suddenly that he was actually upset with you, not his friends. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Kai swear before. "Is it really that hard for you to believe?”
“Um, I—“ you splutter, opening and closing your mouth like a fish.
“It’s like you think I'm some spineless, bitchless nerd or something, you’ve thought that about me since we were small— it pisses me off, honestly, and I'm getting really fucking sick of it. I’m not a little kid anymore!"
You were unable to choke out any words at all as Hueningkai turns away sharply from the group and stomps away up the stairs. It was awkwardly silent for a few deeply conflicting moments, everyone peering at each other nervously, but Beomgyu was quick to pick back up the laughter.
“Someone’s mad! Better watch out, Y/Nie, Huening might punish you for that!”
You resist running after him, even though it makes you sick to your stomach. The party goes on as usual, though everyone seems a little more on edge than before— Heeseung keeps whispering in Beomgyu’s ear. Later, when the guests finally go home and you make it back to your shared bedroom, Kai was already in bed, laid stiff with his back facing you. You don’t have the strength to speak to him, so instead you crawl into your own bed and fall into an uneasy sleep.
Hueningkai hasn’t talked to you in three days. It’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking in your entire lives, you’re pretty sure, and the misery is really starting to get to you. Enough so that you’ve begun to ruminate over everything that’s happened over the last few months, from when you first started living at Alpha Kappa.
Honestly, you were ruminating over one thing in particular.
When your underwear first started going missing, about a week after you moved in, you assumed that it had something to do with the dryer. The way the boys all did their laundry was honestly appalling, lumping everything together without a care in the world, and it was easy to see how your own things could get mixed up in all the mess. It wasn’t just your panties, either; tee shirts and socks, even one of your sports bras. With every load of laundry you did, something of yours managed to disappear.
The difference with your other things, though, was that you eventually got them back. Jake returned your sports bra like it had personally offended him, jumbled up with his soccer uniform because they were the same shade of green. You caught Jungwon wearing your socks on multiple occasions. Soobin is still insisting that your shirt is his, even though it fits him like a crop top.
You’ve never gotten any of your underwear back. It was getting to the point that you were starting to run out, and frankly so was your patience. After what happened that night of the party, the mysterious case of your disappearing intimates was one of the many, many things stuck on your mind. Along with all the bits about Kai and handcuffs and Fifty Shades of Grey, of course.
Specifically, you kept thinking back to what Beomgyu said offhandedly about Kai’s bed, how underneath it was his “special hiding place”. You could only assume that he meant it in the perverted sense, though you couldn’t help but get caught up in the specifics—as in, you’ve spent the last few days wondering obsessively about just what sort of things Kai could be hiding under there, and if, quite possibly, it could include your missing panties.
You felt terrible even entertaining the thought. What a terrible thing to even think about accusing your best friend since childhood of! It wasn’t even like you had any concrete evidence further than a hunch. But you can’t get Taehyun’s words out of your head. You’ve looked everywhere for your underwear, but you haven’t looked under his bed yet.
It’s all you can think about.
And after a week of you and Kai awkwardly dancing around each other, too shy and too proud to talk anything out, you find yourself standing alone in your shared bedroom. Kai and his band are out playing a late night gig, and you’re supposed to be studying for midterms, but instead of focusing on your textbooks your mind keeps wandering back to the bed you were sitting on, and what could possibly be underneath it. You told yourself that first night after the party that you wouldn’t go snooping through Kai’s things, because you didn’t want to shatter the years of trust you’ve built between the two of you— you were stronger than that, or so you kept insisting, but the urge to just look and get it over with and never talk or think about it ever again was growing too strong to continue to ignore. It was like you were a little kid again, going through your mother’s closet while she was at work, an insidious and consuming curiosity you thought you had grown out of a long time ago.
You were an adult, and so was Kai. It wasn’t any of your business what he had or what he hid away, and it certainly wasn’t any of your business who or what he had sex with. Even if it was still hard to imagine Kai having sex at all.
But what if he really was stealing your panties? The devil on your shoulder whispers with glee. Don’t you deserve to know?
Kai would never do that. You’re absolutely sure of it.
Or are you? Because you’re on your knees on the carpet before you realize it and before you can stop yourself. Your body moves even as you kick and scream internally, almost feeling out of your own body, watching in horror as you lower yourself down and peek underneath Kai’s mattress.
It’s dark. You can’t see a thing. What else did you expect?
Instead of giving up, you grab your phone and turn on its flashlight. At first you don’t see much of anything, just lone, crumpled socks and forgotten papers, comic books you recognize from his childhood and an old Nintendo 3DS you’re sure is broken. You curse yourself for being so nosy and move to get up, but that's when you see it; tucked all the way in the very back, up against the wall. A small black shoebox, unmarked and nondescript. It could very well just be a pair of shoes, but once again your curiosity overpowers your sense of self control. You have to duck and wiggle a little to fit that far underneath Kai's mattress, but you manage to grab ahold of the box and drag it out without much but some carpet burn. It doesn't look any more incriminating when you can see it up close. You suddenly feel extremely silly; what exactly were you expecting? For "Y/N's Stolen Underwear" to be printed out on the top? Ockham’s razor tells you its just a shoebox and that you were overstepping quite a few of your best friend's boundaries. You usually pride yourself on being stronger than this.
You've gone too far now, that little voice in your head tells you, smug, leaning with it’s arms crossed on your prefrontal cortex. You've already bothered enough to take it out, might as well open it. Just to know. Just to put the thoughts to rest.
You gingerly take off the lid like you were defusing a bomb.
It might as well have been a fucking bomb. Being exploded to little microscopic pieces would probably feel a lot better than whatever settled itself heavy and ice cold in your stomach.
A polaroid sat on the very top, wrinkled and faded with age. It laid upon a pile of jumbled scraps of cotton that concealed the rest of the box’s contents. At first you couldn’t make heads or tails of it, not until you began to recognize the bright colors and patterns, and you spot bits of lace poking out between the tangled gussets— they were your missing underwear. Still dirty like he had snatched them right from your laundry basket.
You want to laugh, but you can’t, and instead you release an odd sort of wheezing noise. Your chest leaps with a rush of adrenaline, your head light and disoriented as if you were up somewhere real high and were pushed off to freefall. The emotions you expected yourself to feel, anger, disgust, betrayal— you didn’t feel any of them. Surprise, yes, but not the horrified sort. More like the surprise you get from opening a gift.
If you were disgusted by anything, it was yourself, because some deep, idiosyncratic part of you was celebrating, because this was exactly the gift that it wanted.
You take a breath and regain your composure, just enough to focus your attention onto the polaroid. It was an image you recognize immediately, one he took the summer after you both graduated.
You thought you just lost it moving.
You smile up at yourself with wet hair and a seashell necklace, your face lit up by the bonfire. It's a special memory, and you can still feel the heat on your skin if you think hard enough, the sand gritty on your legs and between your toes. You’re showing so much skin, your pudgy thighs and the dips in your hips, your tummy pouching a little from the way you were bent over in laughter. If your tiny little bikini hadn’t been dark red, you would’ve been convinced you were naked. Kai picked out the swimsuit you wore for that trip, one you took with a group of mutual friends to celebrate the end of high school. You loved the bright colors and the strappy style, but you've never had the courage to wear anything that revealing in public before then. Kai saw how badly you wanted to, though. He was the one who convinced you try it on.
He even paid for it himself, his sweet downturned smile explaining that it was a monument towards your self-confidence. You took a lot of polaroids that night, but he took only one.
You lift up the frayed picture with a shaking hand, setting it aside with about a dozen pairs of your panties, and you peer down at what lay beneath it.
You can’t believe your eyes.
A fleshlight, the biggest one you’ve ever seen, its silicone lips mortifyingly realistic. A smaller, jelly-like tube was placed beside it, a discreet and more portable fleshlight, you infer. Next to them was a garishly pink vibrator, a rubber ballgag, and a pair of handcuffs— not even the silly novelty ones, with the pink fuzzy cuffs, but real, hard, cold metal handcuffs that no doubt dug into your skin like a blade. Alongside them were strips of soft black satin and a small bundle of paracord rope, a rather large bottle of lube, and a cockring. All very neat and tidy and put away with a level of care you’d only expect to come from Huening Kai.
Your eyes dart back and forth between the sex toys and your photo. The bright pink of a pair of your underwear catches your attention. There’s only one reason why they would be in the box, one that fills your face and groin with heat… Kai is jerking off… and he’s jerking off to you.
Just as the realization dawns on you, your ears catch the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs, growing louder and distinctly familiar as they near the bedroom door.
No, no no! Why was he home already?! He said he’d be out all night!
You shove everything back into the box in a panic, shoving the cardboard lid back on with far too much force and nearly throwing it back under Kai’s bed. You’re able to jump up and hide under the covers just in time, knocking your notebook, papers, and still-open laptop askew. You’ll deal with the torn and crumpled assignments later.
Lying on your side, facing the wall, you squeeze your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep just as the door opens and those familiar footsteps make their way into the bedroom.
Kai suddenly stops by the doorway. Fuck, you realize, your left your stupid lamp on.
“Y/N?” he calls out softly. You stay as quiet and still as you possibly can, fighting to keep your breathing even. Your acting must be convincing enough, because after a moment of uneasy silence he sighs in relief and makes the rest of the way to his bed.
Things are quiet for a while. You listen to Kai shuffle around getting ready for bed, the familiarity and domesticity of it settling wrong in your stomach. Which one of you were more in the wrong, more fucked up? Was it you, for going through your best friend’s things behind his back based on nothing but a drunken joke and a hunch— or was it Kai, for hiding something so perverted? It had to be him, your ego reasoned. Not only did he think about you in that way, when you’ve spent the better part of a decade convinced he thought of you as a sibling, and he hid it from you for God knows how long, but just like you he was rifling through your belongings behind your back. With much darker intentions.
You still can’t help but feel like the villain. Kai finds comfort in his privacy, has since he was little; he didn’t even let his sisters go through his things, a deep rooted anxiety that he’s only able to quell by keeping his cards close to his chest. You found it a little odd, but never concerning. You never thought that he was hiding something, especially not from you. You, who he told everything even when he wouldn’t tell anyone else. You, who knew every one of his fears and nervous tics, what made him nervous and how to calm him down. You, who knew him better than anyone.
Now you’re not sure if you know him at all. Maybe your fears were coming true, and you really were losing him to his fraternity brothers. Do they know he’s stealing your panties? Does he snicker to them about it when you aren’t looking? Do they encourage it, find it funny?
You hear some faint shuffling beneath you, but you write it off. You’re sleeping in Kai’s space anyway, there’s plenty of reasons why he could be by your bedside. You don’t dare turn around to look.
Maybe you really should be disgusted with him, but you just can’t find it within yourself. Part of you was delighted, honestly, in a way that made you hate yourself. That carefully hidden part of you that’s been deeply and irrevocably in love with him since middle school, when you started to realize that he was looking at girls that weren’t you. You convinced yourself that you didn’t mind being like a sister to him if it meant that you could keep him close.
It's a little surreal to think that when you touched yourself and thought of him, he was doing the same for you.
You get so lost in thought that you forget Kai’s even there, tucked into Taehyun’s bed and making those little snoring noises he makes.
Except the closer you listen, the less they sound like his snoring and the more that they sound like—
“M-mmh…”
Your heart stops cold, shock freezing your body like you had been dunked in a pool of ice water. He’s not, there’s no way he’s—
“o-oh, f-fuck…” slick sounds greet your heating ears, filthy and obscene and leaving nothing to the imagination; you think back to the giant bottle of lube in that shoebox, and with a hot face and twisting belly you wonder if he pulled it out while you weren’t listening.
Kai sounds so pretty like this, his moans breathy and high pitched, backed by the rhythmic schlk, shlk noises of his fist working on his cock. You can picture him perfectly in your mind, head thrown back with his fluffy blond hair a mess against his pillow, his eyes shut tight and those downturned pouty lips open in wordless pleasure. Maybe he had your picture clutched tight in his hand, or even a pair of your stolen underwear— a truly perverted image shoots through you like lightning, of Kai with his nose buried in the gusset of your panties, with the fabric wrapped around his fist as he fucks himself delirious. It’s agony to know that it’s happening in real time right behind you, and that you could easily turn around and see it for yourself, but you’re frozen in place. Not out of fear, but something else entirely; heat twists in your gut like molten lava, warming and wetting your groin, your flimsy cotton panties quickly soaking through and sticking to your folds like a second skin. You feel as if you had melted into a puddle, your limbs like jelly and refusing to move.
“A-ah! Ah! Y/N~!”
You listen to him cum in rapture, his soft voice sounding the sweetest broken, and you listen to him curse himself under his breath as he gets up and rushes out into the hallway for the bathroom.
He falls asleep soon after he returns to bed. You, however, lie awake until the sun starts to come back up, and finally get to rest only when you’re completely overcome with exhaustion.
"Are you a slut, Y/N?" a horribly familiar voice hisses in your ear, his big warm hand palming the bare skin of your ass-- you whimper around the ballgag shoved behind your teeth, tugging at the restraints that bind your arms together behind your back. "Is that what you are? A nasty, nosy, sneaky little slut? All you can think about is getting cock, huh?"
Your tears were starting to soak the silk of the blindfold, sticking wet and cold to your eyelids-- you've never felt this raw and exposed in your life. "No!" you try to yell, but it comes out as a muffled whine.
Kai leans in close, his hot breath caressing your ear, the fabric of his shirt a ghost of a touch against your spine. His grip on your asscheek tightens, fingers digging hard into your flesh. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't hear you. What was that?"
The condescendingly sweet tone of his voice makes you mewl. "'M not a slut!" you cry out, shaking your head wildly, your words slurring and incomprehensible-- drool ran nasty down your chin and neck, dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you. Opening your mouth to speak only made more spill out. You felt disgusting, pathetic, humiliated beyond belief... it was exhihilarating. Your wet cunt ached.
"No?" Kai coos, his palm trailing from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs. His fingertips brush softly against your fluttering pussy lips, the first real touch to your neglected mound. You sob and hiccup around the gag. The tiniest of touches, but it felt so good... and nowhere near enough. "Then why are you so wet right now? I've barely even touched you and you're soaking. You really want your best friend to fuck you that bad? That's pathetic."
You don't know what to do except moan and buck your hips up against his hand. He snickers darkly. "Tell me. Tell me how bad you need me, how you've wanted me for years. I want to hear it all--"
"Y/N!"
you startle awake, blushing hot and eyes wild— Kai stands over your bed, dressed for class with his bag slung over his shoulder. He peers down at you with a worried crease in his brow. "You're gonna be late for class! What were you dreamin' about? You were mumbling like crazy."
This is the first time Kai’s spoken to you directly in days now. Or even made eye contact.
Your alarm is still blaring on your nightstand, a terrible ear-piercing ringing that you've never slept through before today. The concern that shows on Kai's face makes your stomach drop, guilt eating you alive as flashes of your dream come flooding back to you. This is far from the first wet dream you’ve had about him, not even the first this week— you’ve been plagued by them for a while now, but this particular one felt so… real.
You don't talk to him at all, as you get dressed and eat a quick breakfast. The two of you sit in silence as he drives you both to class, and the worry on his face only grows. You feel terrible, but you can't bring yourself to pretend like everything was fine and normal when it really, really wasn't. Especially with how Kai seems to have suddenly decided he wasn’t upset with you anymore— you couldn’t wrap your head around it. At least not until you sort out all of the thoughts and emotions that swirl around like a hurricane in your head. In the quiet of Kai's car, his familiar and comforting scent surrounding you but a dark hole carved deep in your chest, it feels as if you've been caught in the eye of the storm.
"This is about Huening, isn't it." Taehyun states plainly when he answers your late night call. You probably could have just waited until he showed back up at the frat house, but your patience was wearing thin. As glad as you are to hear his annoyed voice, part of you wished that he was less reliable about picking up the phone.
"I haven't even said anything!" you whine, a little petulant even to your own ears. He's always been able to read you like a book, just as he can everyone else-- it never fails to piss you off and embarrass you.
"You never call me unless it's about Kai." he responds simply. You hear a high pitched giggle in the background, no doubt his girlfriend curled up to his side and listening in; you don't have the energy to object to her overhearing your deepest secrets. It's not like it matters if she knows anyways.
"It's not about him, not really. It's just-- that's Haeul, right? He's not with you, is he?"
You can hear Taehyun's eyeroll reverberate through his sigh. "He's at his band practice. If you're calling to apologize to him, I can leave a message."
"Apologize?!" you squawk, "Apologize for what?! I didn't do anything!"
"I think you hurt his feelings. He's been acting weird and cagey all week." Taehyun sounds more bemused than concerned. "I know he's playing it cool around you, but he's being a dick to everyone else. You could at the very least tell him you're sorry for emasculating him."
"Emasculating him?!" And this is why you didn't go to Taehyun for your problems that didn't involve his own friends. "He's the one being a big baby about the whole thing! How was I supposed to know you guys were being serious!? Why didn't any of you tell me!?"
"Tell you what, that Kai's a freak? We thought you knew. Plus, it's not like it's even that big of a deal. You're both just being weird about it."
You kick your legs against your bedsheets in frustration. "I'm not being weird about it! I'm just a little hurt that everyone seemed to know about this other than me. How long have you known?"
Taehyun was quiet for a long, uncomfortable moment. You could still hear Haeul's giggling. "Y/N, I love you like a brother. But if you're about to quiz me on my roommate's sex life, I will hang up on you."
"I'm not, I'm not!" You're glad you're curled up safe in bed and not in public; you'd hate for anyone to see you this flustered just over the phone. "I'm just confused, is all. On how it was apparently "so obvious" and I completely missed it. For years."
Taehyun snorts. "That's 'cause he's been hiding it from you, genius. He's been doing a shit job, though. I figured you'd found out anyway."
"He's... what?" you blink, "Why?"
Taehyun makes a noise like he's sucking at his teeth, staticky over the phone. You figure that he's curled up in his girlfriend's bed himself, watching a soccer game on TV or whatever else he does when he isn't being a smart ass. You briefly worry if he's actually planning on hanging up on you. "I promised Kai I wouldn't tell you about this."
"Tell me about what?!" You press with a desperate hiss, grasping onto your phone harder-- you were getting sick and tired of everyone beating around the bush with you, like you hadn't already learned more about Kai in the last few days than you had in the last few years. "Hyun, if it involves me, I think I deserve to know."
He hesitates for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, deep and weighted like a veteran soldier. You want to laugh, really, but you're too on edge and hanging onto every word he says.
"Kai's gonna kill me for this."
"I don't care. Spill."
"He... he likes you, alright? Like isn't even a strong enough word. He's disgustingly in love with you and it's nearly impossible to stomach sometimes. He's told me before he's liked you since you were in grade school, I think. It's been years. He's playing up this stupid good boy act 'cos he doesn't want to 'scare you away.'"
You let out a breath like it had been knocked out of you with a fist, your head spinning wildly. His sister, that's what you thought he saw you as. When he gave you those smiles he seems to save only for you, when he held you close when you wanted it and gave you your space when you needed it. His pretty brown eyes wide and sparkling every time he looks at you, making your tummy erupt with butterflies.
He would always turn away like he didn't want you to catch him staring. You caught him staring quite a lot. You always assumed you had something on your face.
Sweet, sensitive Hyuka who told you that you looked pretty even when you knew you didn’t, stepping into the frat house in your pajamas because you’ve lost sleep studying. Hyuka who would give up his seat for you, buy you things without asking, who was the only one who knew what was the matter whenever you were upset. Hyuka who was always the first to stand up for you if one of his brothers made a snide joke in your expense. Hyuka who hugged you first before he greeted anyone else. Hyuka who would sometimes only come downstairs from his bedroom if he was told that you were there. You always thought that Hyuka was such a great friend.
All at once, you feel enlightened and extremely guilty. The other night suddenly makes much, much more sense.
It’s not as if you didn’t already know, at least partly. With the shoebox and all its contents. But hearing it come from someone else’s mouth made it feel less like a delusion.
“Oh.” You whisper into the phone, because it hit you that you hadn’t said anything in quite some time.
“Yeah, ‘oh’. Now he thinks you think he’s a nasty pervert.” Taehyun snickers, enjoying your suffering far too much.
You blanche at the word ‘pervert’. Taehyun couldn’t possibly know about… that, could he? You want to ask, but you know bringing it up would only get him to hang up on you, especially with his girlfriend next to him.
“I don’t think that.” You say softly and honestly, a little sad. For who, you’re not sure.
“Go and tell him that, not me.”
“How am I supposed to tell him anything when he’s been avoiding me like the plague?! He spoke to me for the first time in three days this morning, and it was only because I overslept.”
Taehyun’s quiet again, thinking for a moment. “Listen. The last of our midterms are on Friday, and Yeonjun was planning on taking us all out for drinks if we pass. I think he’s trying to cheer Kai up, honestly, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s going about it the wrong way anyway, Kai hates bars.”
“You’re saying I should come.” You infer. “Would Kai even want me there? It’s for the frat, right?”
Taehyun laughs, soft and genuine for the first time that night. “You’re just as much of a brother as the rest of us. Honestly, Kai probably wouldn’t want you there, but that doesn’t really matter. He’s not the one who’s paying, so he can go cry about it. Plus, I think hyung wanted you to come with us anyway— he thinks this whole situation is hilarious.”
You hesitate. Not only does this have bad idea written all over it, but you also don’t have anything to wear. You tell him as much.
“You can borrow one of my dresses! I think they’ll fit.” Haeul says helpfully, speaking up with glee. She’s such a sweetheart, but you want to throttle her.
“You promise you’ll get me out of there if things get nasty?” You ask Taehyun nervously.
“How would things get nasty?” He laughs, “The most Kai will do is whine and complain that he wants to go home.”
You should have stayed at the house.
Huening hadn't so much as looked at you the entire night. You spotted him the moment you stepped inside the bar, his dirty blonde hair looking pink in the colored lights, his big frame shrunk in on itself in an oversized grey hoodie, tucked into a corner booth like he was trying to come off as small as he possibly could. Taehyun and Soobin sit across from him with worried expressions, no doubt trying to lift his spirits. You feel bad for him, really, watching him stare surly into the same drink he's been nursing the entire night. Yeonjun mentioned to you how it took Taehyun bribing him with a video game to get him to even come along.
On top of the awkward atmosphere, you feel naked in Haeul's dress. It was cute, but backless and low cut, and about two sizes too small. You were afraid to take large breaths, lest your tits fall out entirely.
You think you caught Kai staring from the booth as you sat at the bar with Yeonjun, but that could have just been wishful thinking.
"Just go up and talk to him," he suggests between swigs of his beer. He keeps looking over his shoulder at the dancefloor like he's hunting for something-- most likely a girl to take home with him.
"And what, grovel for his forgiveness? He looks like he wants to kill everyone in here and then himself." you grumble around your own glass, half-hoping the liquor would at least spark some confidence. You felt the opposite of confident, in your stupid too tight dress, scared of approaching a boy that wouldn't hurt a fly.
"He probably just wants to fuck you. You look hot." Yeonjun snickers, glancing over towards Kai's booth-- from the annoying grin on his face, you can only assume Kai's looking back. "Go over there and tell him you'll suck his dick if he'll stop being an asshole."
"You're disgusting."
"You love me." He shoots you one of his infamous crooked grins before sneaking another look over at the dancefloor, biting his plush bottom lip; it seems he's locked in on a target. "Gotta bounce. Yell if you need me to come and save you."
"I don't want your saving." you retort dryly as he got up from the barstool and dissapeared into the crowd.
You don't have much time to wallow in your solitude, barely able to take another sad sip of your cocktail-- a trim body in a soccer jersey takes up the barstool where Yeonjun had just sat, his big mouth grinning like he wasn't blind as a bat right now.
You suppose the eyes that you had felt on you hadn't been Kai's after all. Yeonjun's grins could be deceiving.
Jake orders a beer from the bartender, his accent and the alcohol slurring his words. You hadn't seen him all night, running off with Heeseung quickly after arriving, and with how caught up as you were with your Huening Kai conundrum you had forgotten that he was even here. Not that you weren't happy to see him-- a familiar face near you helped calm your nerves among the swarm of strangers.
"And another of whatever she's drinking." Jake quickly adds with a wink thrown your way.
“Oh, no, I’m alright—” you try to shut him down, but he waves you off with a sweet laugh.
“It’s on me, baby. You look like you need it.”
Jake’s never called you baby before. He must be drunker than you thought.
You laugh nervously, unsure how to feel about the sudden pet name. “That feels like an insult.”
“No, no! You just look stressed out. Something got you down?”
You’re not sure how to respond to that. “Kind of.”
Jake leans in close, whispering under his breath like he’s telling you a secret. “You’re not upset about… all that, with Kai, are you?”
Your breath hitches. Jake had been away somewhere else at the party. “How’d you hear about that?”
“Oh, Hee and Beomgyu told me all about it!” Those fuckers. Who else had their big mouths blabbed off to?
“Oh. Well, no, I’m not upset about it.” You lie. “Im just… thinking about my classes, is all.”
The bartender puts both of your drinks down at once— you’re not even halfway done with your first, but Jake slides you your new one all the same. “Really?! ‘Cos Hee told me that you aced your midterms, and I was like, of course she did! ‘Cos you’re a genius, you know. Smartest girl I’ve ever met. You’re gonna go places, Y/N, so stop worrying! We’re all here to get our minds off school, aren’t we?”
He’s rambling. You study his face for any pinkness in his cheeks— he’s got to be shitfaced to be blabbering to you like this, but he’s not blushing. “I guess you’re right.”
“Besides, you’re looking way too pretty to be sitting her all alone.” Jake adds quickly, almost shyly, hiding behind his beer.
Oh God. Was Jake flirting with you? You down the rest of your first drink and move on to your second— you fear he’s right that you need them.
Jake’s gaze is heavy as he continues to yap about something or other— soccer, you think, though you aren’t paying much attention— his dark eyes raking down your dress to the exposed skin of your thighs and biting his lip. He has a very large mouth with very white teeth.
“I hope Taehyun will crawl out my ass once the championships are over, maybe then he’ll realize that I can pass just fine and it’s his issue that he can’t receive properly. Do you want another one of those? Then maybe we can move somewhere else? You’ve been sitting here all night.”
“Hm?” You didn’t register a single word he said. Looking down at your glass, you’re surprised to see it’s empty; you’ve been mindlessly sipping on it as Jake talked your ear off, trying your hardest not to look over your shoulder back at Huening Kai’s booth. “Oh! Um! No, I’m okay, thank you!”
Jake seems disappointed with your answer. You wonder if he’s just trying to get you as drunk as you suspected he was. “You sure? You’re still lookin’ a little sad there, pretty girl.”
“Uh, I’m—“
“She said she’s fine.”
A large warm hand suddenly grabs your upper arm, making you yelp in surprise— you whip your head back fast, freezing at the sight of Huening Kai towering over you with a dark and unreadable expression. His grip was bordering on painful.
Jake blanches, his face screwed up in a mix of nervousness and confusion. “Hey, Kai, what’s up?”
“Kai—” you start, but quickly clam up; Kai shoots you a look you’ve never seen from him before, dangerous and borderline feral. It twists hot in your belly just as much as it scares you.
“She’s done. We’re leaving.” Kai hisses in your ear, loud enough for Jake to hear. You’re too shocked to respond.
“What the hell’s your problem, man?!” Jake gripes, but it’s not doing too much good; Kai tugs you up out of your seat and drags you out of the bar entirely, his fingers tightening on your bicep until his knuckles were nearly white. You want to fight him, yell and kick and scream, but all you can manage is to stare incredulously at the back of his head. He didn’t even give you the leeway to grab your purse. Or pay your tab.
You hope you can trust Jake with your wallet. “Kai, what the hell—”
He pushes you hard against the brick wall of the club and presses himself flush against your back. You can feel the stiff bulge of his hard cock against your ass, his hot breath fan across your neck in jagged, heavy breaths. God, he’s huge.
“You think this is fucking funny, Y/N?” he snarls, deep and nasty. His hands press yours against the brick, keeping you still and trapped. “Are you trying to piss me off? Showing up dressed like a slut, flirting with my friend right in front of me?”
You can only get yourself to let out a strangled squeak, all too distracted by the swell of Kai’s cock, the latent strength in his hands, the heat of his body against yours. Holy shit. Was this really happening? Or were you just dreaming again?
“C’mon, say something.” Kai goads, rolling his hips. It takes everything in you not to moan. “Why are you being such a whore, Y/N?”
Something fiery takes ahold of you, just long enough for you to bite back; “I’m the whore?! I should be asking you why you’re stealing my panties! Jerking off to my things like a gross pervert!”
Kai falters, but his erection grows stiffer against your thighs. “I knew it. I knew you knew. You like it though, don’t you? Is that why you’ve not said anything? You like how crazy you make me.”
“Kai,” you whimper, cheek pressed up against the cold brick wall, “You’re hard.”
“I’m hard?” Kai sneers. “Yes, I’m hard! I’m hard ‘cos you look so fucking sexy in this dress; Fuck, I love your body. Did you wear this for me?”
You’d been telling yourself you didn’t, but you did. You absolutely did.
“Dressed up all pretty for me yet you’re letting other men call you baby? Sounds like you just want me to punish you. Is that what you want? For me to punish you?” he grabs the pudge of your hips with greedy hands, guiding you back to grind harder against him. “You know, I thought you couldn’t take it. Thought you wouldn’t be able to handle me. But now I think you deserve to be put in your place, don’t you?”
“Fuck, Hyuka…” You keen, his childhood nickname sounding filthy when spoken like this. Kai bucks his hard on right against your clothed slit, burrowing his head in the hollow of your neck to mouth and pant hotly at your skin.
“Fuck you’re wet, I can feel it. Say it. Say you want me to ruin you.”
He’s right; your pussy’s dripping. You’ve never felt this needy before in your life, and Kai hasn’t even touched you. You’re a little afraid of how you’ll feel when he does.
Your mind flashes back to your dreams, vivid scenes of being underneath Huening as he tore you apart completely, made you feel raw and alive in ways you didn’t think you ever could. You crave to feel even just a fraction of what you did in your dreams, finally make them a reality.
Your body craved his touch, heightened by being starved of it for so long.
“Ruin me, Kai, please.” you beg, and you mean it. “Break me.”
“Good girl, fuck.” Huening curses hot under his breath and pulls himself away from you— you whine at the loss, and he gives your ass a harsh slap to silence you. You bite your lip to keep from shrieking. “Fuck, okay, we’re doing this. 8 o’clock tomorrow night, okay? Meet me in our bedroom. We’ll have time to talk it out before. Don’t be late.”
And with that, Kai walks away, heading back inside the club with his hands in his pockets and head held high like he wasn’t just grinding against you moments before. You’re plastered against the wall, dress ridden up to expose your ass, sweaty and hot and so, so wet it’s starting to drip down your thighs.
You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to make it to tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes far too fast. You crash at a friend’s dorm to avoid going back to the frat house, and hole yourself up inside the library under the guise of classwork— you really do have a project to work on, but for hours you do nothing but stare blankly at your laptop screen and internally panic. Despite having the entire day to get your shit together, you still felt as if you had been given no time at all to prepare for whatever it was that coming. Over and over again you think of the night before, Kai’s words, his husky voice, his hands hot and burning. You could still feel the ghosts of his touches on your hips and arm, like his fingertips had been branded into your skin. He was haunting you, consuming your every thought, filling your mind with the question; what is he going to do to you?
How far would he push you? Would he take you all the way to the edge, or would he throw you over? If you told him it was too much, would he stop?
Did you truly trust him as much as you think you do?
You had another dream that night, even more visceral than the last. It scared you, almost, from the intensity of it, but you’ve never felt more alive. Adrenaline runs through your veins, your entire body buzzing with anticipation, taught and thrumming like a drum skin stretched too tight. You need to feel Kai’s touch on you again, more than you needed air.
The autumn wind nips at your bare legs as you nervously walk your way back to the frat house. You took a very long shower at your friend’s place, but you had no change of clothes; you’re back in the too tight dress you wore the night before, hidden beneath a knee-length coat. Never a fan of rewearing underwear, you’ve foregone them entirely.
God, you’re dressed up and wandering like a hooker. This is humiliating.
You wrap your arms tighter around yourself and bury your face deeper into the furry lapels of your coat. You’ve never dressed for a hookup before— hell, you’ve never had a hookup to begin with. Last night’s clothes are probably not the best attire. Kai said he’d liked the dress, but as unlikely as it was you couldn’t stop thinking about him laughing at you in your sweaty, sparkly laundry.
The frat house’s front door stares at you like it knows what you’re doing. For some odd reason, you want to reason with it; this is just a simple, no feelings attached, hookup between two close friends. It’ll be done and over with and everything can go back to the way it was before you moved in.
…Right?
Could you even call this a hookup to begin with? Kai wasn’t some random guy you met at the bar, he was… Kai. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse. The entire situation was so incredibly alien and unlike you in every single way. It left a bad taste in your mouth, and you try to swallow it down as you slowly and gingerly let yourself inside.
The living room lights were on, but empty of any frat brothers. A little surprising, but you were grateful nonetheless; you’d been dreading the idea of having anyone other than Kai see you like this, especially a select few of Kai’s brothers. You could practically hear Beomgyu and Soobin’s howling laughter.
Kai probably planned for this, you muse. They all must be out somewhere, doing God knows what. It makes you less concerned about being quiet, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you hurry towards the stairs, passing by the kitchen with only a quick side glance—
Taehyun stands at the open fridge, dressed in sweaty gym clothes and staring at you with a strange but expectant look. You shriek.
“Well, hi to you too.” He says flatly, eyeing you up and down. “Is that a new coat?”
“What are you doing here?!” you hiss, clutching your lapels like a string of pearls.
Taehyun quirks his eyebrow and closes the fridge, revealing a plastic water bottle in his other hand. “I live here.”
“You— no you don’t! Not really! Not anymore!”
“I’m Vice President.” he blinks at your bare legs, still shaking from the cold. “I can come and go as I please.”
“Is everyone else here?” you ask quickly, nervously looking around. All the lights are still off and you don’t hear any noises, outside of Taehyun taking a swig of his water bottle and walking to the kitchen island to grab his gym bag.
“There’s a gig tonight. Everyone’s out pregaming— I was leaving too, actually, just grabbing a drink and some of my clothes. Kai said he was sick, though, so it’s just him. Jake’s having to fill in on the drums.”
“Sick?” So that was his plan. Part of you wants to strangle him over skipping one of his beloved concerts just to have sex with you.
Taehyun gives you a face that was just short of being a grimace. It would have offended you in any other circumstance. “Don’t worry. I’m starting to think he’s perfectly fine.”
Your face burning, you huff and turn away, stomping up the stairs. “Just leave!”
“I plan on it! I don’t want to be here for that. Use a condom at least, will you?” he calls after you from the bottom of the staircase.
The upstairs hallway is dark and quiet, save for a thin crack of light shining from underneath yours and Kai’s bedroom door. You’ve felt less dread walking through haunted houses; your heart thunders in your chest as if something was going to jump out at you as you made your way through.
You can hear the distant sound of a video game from behind the door, growing louder as you reach it and fumble tentatively with the doorknob. It was unlocked, of course, and you slowly crack it open just enough to slip inside.
Kai’s console in the corner was the only light in the room, illuminating your best friend’s silhouette as he smashed away at his keyboard. He was slouched deeply in his chair with his back to you, the volume up so high in his headphones that you could hear the gunshots and the screams of his teammates with near perfect clarity. Completely engrossed in the game, he doesn’t seem to notice you at all.
You came a little early, sure, but it wasn’t that early.
“Kai?” you call out far too quietly, too anxious to raise your voice. He continues to click away without a word or a glance.
Surely he hadn’t forgotten, you worry, suddenly feeling very silly standing there in your big coat and staring at the back of his head.
“Kai.” You call again, this time a little louder. Kai still does not acknowledge your presence at all.
You frown and step closer util you were right by his side, and you tap gingerly on his shoulder— Kai reacts instantly, jumping out of his chair with a rather feminine yelp, his headphones flying off his head and down around his neck as he whips his head around to face you, eyes wide in terror. It takes him a second to recognize you, his face flooding with color once he does.
“Holy— Y/N, Oh my God!” he pants, clutching his chest. The tips of his ears are red again, like they were when he walked in with just a towel on. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry,” you soothe him with a giggle. He avoids your gaze and stares at the floor, his cheeks puffed out and crimson red. You’ve never seen him this embarrassed before, even when he was half naked. “You knew I was coming.”
“Well…” he cringes, taking his headphones from around his neck to fiddle with them nervously. “I… kind of thought you weren’t gonna show up.”
“Why wouldn’t I come? I told you I’d be here.” You cock your head at him. He seems a little disoriented, as he turns off his console and places his headphones down on his desk, like he hadn’t prepared for anything while you’ve possibly prepared for too much. This didn’t seem at all like the man who had you pinned up against a brick wall and begging just the night before, and instead much more like the shy and gentle Huening Kai you knew a lot better.
“I thought I scared you.” He admits with a fake, humorless laugh, his wobbly smile quickly folding into a grimace as he sinks further into his chair. “That’s usually the part where they run away screaming, you know.”
Your own frown deepens, unsure of what to do or what to say as you watch him pick at his sweatpants and continue to refuse to look you in the eye. He rocks himself side to side in his swivel chair like he was self soothing.
“I mean, I’m not angry about it, obviously.” He continues, fluffy blond bangs hanging over his lowered face. “That would be stupid. A lot of people don’t like this stuff, and that’s fine. I don’t want to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. It’s okay if I scared you, it really is. I’m sorry I came on so strong last night, it was a bad idea and I shouldn’t have done it and I was drunk–”
Kai looks up at you for the first time in a while, big brown eyes watery behind his bangs and breaking your heart— he looked so truly guilty, like he had been beating himself up all night. Like he had been tearing himself to shreds over this just as you had. You wish he came to you earlier, so you could have told him that he didn’t do anything that you didn’t really, really like, and that while yes, he did startle you, it awoken something inside of you that you didn’t even know was there. He could have done whatever he wanted to and you would have let him, because while this new, mysterious side to him made you nervous it didn’t scare you. Huening Kai could never scare you.
You realize just then that there really wasn’t another secret, darker alter to Hueningkai, some frightening Jekyll and Hyde dynamic that your friends had placed into your head. Kai was always Kai, your sweet, perfect, nervous, nerdy, awkward Kai, even when he was saying the nastiest things you had ever heard in your life. It wracked you with guilt that for a brief moment you doubted your trust in him.
“You don’t scare me, Kai.” You say simply, because you couldn’t get yourself to say anything else. The genuinely shocked look on Kai’s face at your words makes your chest ache.
“Really?” He asks just above a whisper. “I didn’t scare you?”
“No, I… I liked it.” You admit, face heating up. “I liked it, and… I want more. I want you to punish me, like you said you would last night.”
Kai’s big puppy eyes change in an instant; suddenly all of that niceness was gone, and he was gazing up at you like a predator. His eyes were dangerous and dark, dripping with a hunger you were frighteningly unfamiliar with. The sudden shift takes you by surprise and ignites the kindling of a fire in your belly.
“Okay then.” Kai says slowly, taking his time easing out of his chair. You don’t miss the big, dizzying bulge in his sweats when he stands up. “Then let’s talk.”
He sits you down on his (your) bed and sits across from you on Taehyun’s, just enough distance that you could finally breathe. His eyes tear you apart, inspecting you inch by inch as he nibbles on his lip and twiddles his fingers. Knee bouncing anxiously like your pattering heartbeat. “Before we do anything,” he starts, “I just want to hear your boundaries. Is that okay? I don’t want to do anything that you won’t like— the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable or hurt you.”
You smile at that, touched by Kai’s concern. “What do you mean by boundaries?”
“Like your hard limits, your soft limits.” Kai explains gently, moving to rest his hands on his shuffling knees. You stare at his long, thick fingers a few beats longer than you meant to. “Things you don’t want me to do to you. Let me know about what to stay away from so this can be enjoyable for both of us.”
You should have expected to be asked something like this, but you’re woefully unprepared to answer. Squirming in your big coat with your face and belly hot— you were starting to feel like the virgin you thought Kai was. “I… I don’t really know. I’ve never really done anything like this before… but I want to try it. With you.”
Kai lets out a deep sigh, one of his hands rising to push his bangs back from his eyes; pretty brown pupils dark and dripping with honeyed venom, such a startling juxtaposition from the sweet smile on his soft lips. You stare at him mesmerized.
“Thank you. For trusting me.” He says, low and sincere, pink tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “If there’s ever a point where you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to tell me, okay? I promise I’ll stop immediately.”
“Okay…” you nod. Your anxiety was diminishing by the minute, being replaced with a tranquil sense of trust. Only Kai could ever make you feel this safe.
“For boundaries, just follow my lead.” Kai continues. “I’ll list something, and you tell me if you’re okay with it or not, okay?”
“Okay.” you say again, more confidently. Kai crookedly grins.
“Good girl. Just say yes or no, okay?”
Good girl, said so flippantly like he did at the bar. You shiver, electrified; you can still feel Kai’s hot breath panting in your ear when he called you that last night, that hard thick bulge in his pants you’ve been trying desperately not to look at pushing hard against your ass, teasing you, haunting you.
“Y/N?” Kai asks softly, sending you reeling back to the present. “Is that okay?”
“Yes! I mean— yes, yes that’s okay.”
Kai giggles, eyes scrunching up in that way you adore so much. “Alright then. Can I hit you?”
The casual way in which he says it is what sends you reeling. You blink hard, hesitating for a moment. “Hit… me? Where?”
“Wherever you’d like.” Kai answers with the sweetest and most innocent of smiles. Only his bright red cheeks are giving him away. “I can spank you, if you want. I can slap you. Your face, your tits. Your... your pussy even, if you’d let me.”
Once again you’re pulled away from reality, flooded with memories all at once from your salacious dreams; being spanked for misbehaving, Kai’s big strong hands ruthless on your soft skin. How it hurt but how you loved it, craved and begged for more.
“You can spank me.” You finally get out after a while. “You can spank my p-pussy too… just please be gentle. And I don’t want to be hit in the face.”
“That’s perfectly fine, angel. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Kai soothes in a deep croon, mixing deliciously and dizzyingly with the new pet name and making you rub your thighs together. You can tell that he notices from the wolfish way that his grin widens. “Do you want me to just use my hand or can I use a toy to spank you?”
The simple idea of being spanked with something other than a hand is enough to make you squirm and hide your face; it was something you had never even thought about before, but now…
“You can do both...” you mumble quietly, too embarrassed to meet Kai’s gaze. He gives you an approving hum.
“Can I choke you?”
“Yes.” You answer with less hesitation, taking another quick glance at Kai’s fingers, now tugging at the hem of his hoodie. He lets out a breathy “oh,” like he had been hit hard in the chest and lost his breath. You can feel the carnal hunger in his gaze as it washes over you; it’s already so overwhelming and he hasn’t even touched you yet.
“Can I tie you up?” Kai continues heavily, deep voice a few octaves lower. You bite your lip to keep from whimpering.
“Yes.”
“Can I pull your hair?” he reaches out suddenly to grab at your exposed upper thigh— he pushes the coat aside with his thumb to caress your bare skin, and the teasing touch is enough to make your voice shake.
“Y-yes.”
“Can I call you names? Is it okay if I’m mean to you?” His fingers dig into the fat of your inner thigh.
“Please be mean to me.” You stutter out breathlessly.
The bulge in his sweats is obscene, straining hard against the fabric as he strokes your thigh, looking imposing and impossibly large. Slowly, he rises to close the gap between you, using his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes; the way he looks at you borders on predatory, like he was going to eat you, so dirty and different than any look he’s ever given you before. Your pussy throbs as his thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip.
“Oh, princess,” he coos, sugary sweet, “What am I going to do with you?”
“What are you going to do with me?” you echo timidly, still meek even as you reach out to place your hand on his chest.
Kai’s grin turns practically devilish, his hand brushing higher and higher up your thigh. “I think you deserve a punishment for your behavior yesterday, don’t you? Acting so bratty, dressed like a slut… You’re dressed like one now, aren’t you? Under that coat.”
The pad of his finger slips under your skirt to ghost over the front of your panties, expecting to feel soaked fabric— but all he’s met with is wet skin, fingertip sliding between your bare, dripping pussy lips. Kai growls like an animal. “You’re trying to kill me.”
Your thighs clench hard, trapping his hand between them, and the hand you had placed on his chest grabs a fistful of his hoodie as if it has a mind of its own. “Punish me,” you beg, meek and pathetic, needy pussy wetting his hand, “Show me who I belong to. Make me yours.”
Kai stares at you in what almost seems like disbelief.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks after taking a moment to study your face.
“Yes, please.” you answer, already leaning in to bridge the gap.
Kai kisses you so passionately that it takes your breath away, his hands grabbing your waist as he pries your lips apart with his tongue. He demands his way inside your mouth and you let him in happily, moaning in delight as the taste of him floods your senses, as he takes over your lips and your mind completely. Your hands paw uselessly at his shoulders and neck, Kai swallowing up your sweet little whimpers and pulling you up onto his lap. Your synapses misfire in your brain like fireworks, like those sparklers you had that day on the beach, bright and loud and burning. You have a scar on your finger from letting the sparks get too close, and surely this will leave a sort of scar in your brain, aching with the memory of your best friend’s lips on yours. Kissing Kai felt like coming home.
The two of you only part when you’re both dizzy and desperate for air, and you giggle against his mouth because if you didn’t you were afraid you’d begin to cry. With roaming, greedy hands he tears your coat off your body, lets it fall onto the mattress and leave you exposed to him in an unwashed dress that doesn’t even belong to you.
You’ll pay Haeul for the dry cleaning.
“God, I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long…” Kai whispers against your lips, his palms running over your skin in rapture, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The confession hung heavy in the air, weighing down on your sloping shoulders. Words get stuck in your throat as you try to think of something to say, and Kai steals them from you with another, filthier kiss, spit connecting your lips in strings when he pulls away to marvel at you. His hands are everywhere, pawing at your hips and cupping your breasts, running down your bare back to squeeze your ass, his touch growing rougher as his self control begins to slip.
“Oh baby…” he huffs, honeyed voice labored and panting. “Fuck, look at you.”
You lean into his embrace, let him trace the contours of the plunging neckline, the way the backless cut is so low it exposes the dimples just above your ass.
“You said you liked it.” you giggle coyly.
He growls in response, flipping you over onto your back and taking you by surprise— he kneels over you with his hands on either side of your head, pretty lips pulled into the most salacious of smirks as his eyes continue to rake down your body.
“Hyuka…” you whimper, the few inches between your faces feeling like miles.
“Fuck, keep calling me that,” he groans, “It’s gonna sound so hot when I’m tearing you apart.”
He swoops down to give you another quick kiss of appreciation before pulling himself back up and off the bed. You whimper at the loss but Kai is quick to shush you, big hand coming up to rub soothing circles into your thigh as he rummages around underneath his bed— to grab that shoebox, you realize with a jolt.
“Turn over ‘n arch your back, can you do that for me? Ass up, I gotta teach you a lesson.”
You shudder and follow his directions, burying your face in the sheets as he places the box on the mattress beside you and gathers what he needs… having to dig through all your dirty underwear to get to it. You can feel the bed dip with his weight as he settles himself back over you. He runs his hands up your thighs and over your ass and waist, across your shoulders and down your arms— in one swift motion he grabs your wrists and tugs your arms taught behind your back, binding them in place with the dull click of cold metal. The handcuffs. You’re completely at his mercy now.
“Are they too tight?” Kai asks when you test your restraints, tug at them uselessly; they don’t budge an inch, only cut tighter and tighter into the skin of your wrists with every movement. It’s an alien feeling, being bound like this, but you find yourself enjoying it much more than you thought you would, stoking the fire in your belly. You shake your head no.
“Good.” He says, palming the globe of your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart with his thumbs, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes. The cold air hits your warm wet core, making you gasp; Kai’s quick to soothe you with his fingers sliding up and down your wet slit, pausing every so often to rub rough circles against your swollen, sensitive clit. He plays with you like he’s inspecting you, pulling your pussy lips apart to watch your hole clench and dribble slick, teasing it with the lightest pressure against your rim before pulling away.
“God, you’ve got the prettiest pussy.” He whispers in awe, pinching the fat of your folds. “I can’t wait to ruin it.”
Without warning, he rears his hand back and slaps you, hard, against your bare cunt. The sting is sharp and mind-numbing, making you cry out sharply, but your voice quickly wavers into a low moan; it hurts like hell but you revel in it, the tingling in your fevered skin only serving to make you wetter.
Kais hand then moves to cup and squeeze at your asscheek; you can feel your arousal coating his palm, your pussy so wet you’ve drenched it with just a single spank. “Count for me, okay honey?” Kai croons, gentle. “And say ‘thank you for every one.”
“Yes, Hyuka,” you whimper, fighting the urge to look over your shoulder back at him as he shuffles around behind you, picking up whatever he had placed aside earlier. You hear a soft ‘good girl’ as he settles himself back into place.
Kai rewards your good behavior with your first proper spank, hard and fast and with a wooden paddle instead of his hand— you cry out, even louder and shriller than before, your hands twisting against the handcuffs as you shy away from Kai’s grasp. You never thought pain could feel this good.
“Fuck! One!” you huff out, winded, completely unprepared. Kai tuts, condescending.
“One, what? Be a big girl and use your words now.”
“One, thank you!” you correct yourself quickly, thighs already quivering.
He spanks you again on the other cheek, this time harder; you shriek at the sharp pain of the paddle, but it quickly morphs into a broken moan. The paddle elicits pain in a way you had never felt before, could hardly describe, the shocking sting reverberating throughout your entire body and coalescing in your mind, leaving you breathless and unable to focus on anything other than Kai’s big hand running soothingly down the small of your back, the leather of the paddle ghosting over your flushed skin teasingly. “Two, thank you!”
To your disappointment, Kai only hums. This time he gives you not a second to prepare yourself before the paddle comes down again, catching the meat of your upper thigh. It hurts so bad it makes your eyes water, your mouth stuck open in a drooly, silent scream. Your cunt throbs and aches. “Tell me you’re a whore.” Kai demands, voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine.
“I-I’m a wh-whore.” you stutter out, wobbly voice barely above a whisper.
Two ear-ringing spanks land hard on your bruising ass, one after another on the exact same spot. You’re unable to control the shrill shriek that erupts from your parted, panting lips, your eyes watery with unshed tears. “Louder.” Kai spits, grabbing a tight fistful of your hair and tugging your face out from the bedsheets. “Let everyone hear what you are.”
“T-three, four!” you cry out, your head spinning, your thoughts fragmented. You’ve been broken entirely, you fear, somewhere in the back of your mind. Broken and ruined and never the same again. The thought doesn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. “I’m a whore, I’m a whore! Thank you, thank you, thank you—!”
“Good girl,” Kai coos, a little condescending. He seemed to enjoy watching you break just as much as you enjoyed being broken. “Just one more, okay?”
He caresses your swollen asscheek with a surprising tenderness, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the burning flesh. Your cunt is so wet that rivulets of slick begin to drip down your thighs, and by the harsh intake of breath you hear behind you you’re sure that Kai has noticed.
You brace for the spank, face buried in Kai’s sheets, but still your body shook with pain and pleasure as he lands it, vicious and aggressive, right over your throbbing cunt. The spank stung like nothing you had ever felt before, harder than the others before it, the pain reverberating through your core and making you hiccup pathetically— you’re floating, your fragmented and silenced thoughts somewhere far away, but the gentle hand on your hip grounds you back into Kai’s sheets, back into the moment as your body aches and yearns for more. “Five!” you finally manage to spit out, your cheeks wet with tears you weren’t aware you had shed. “Thank you!”
Your punishment ends and it’s like a switch flips in Kai; his hands smooth over your hips and thighs, so, so gentle in caressing the blistering globes of your ass. ”Such a good girl, took your punishment so well…” He croons, pressing feather light kisses to your shoulder blades. “Knew you could do it, my perfect girl. So proud of you. Are you ready for more?”
“Please,” you pant, chest heaving. You hardly recognize your own voice.
Kai’s breath hitches at your answer, his hips stuttering as he presses them up against your ass. The fabric of his pants scratches deliciously against your pussy, the thick shaft of his cock rock hard and straining, slotted perfectly between your quivering lips. Your skin tingles from the kiss he presses against the back of your neck, gentle and chaste. “Such a good girl deserves a reward, doesn’t she?” he purrs into your ear, his warm chest molded to your sweaty back. “What do you want, princess?”
“You.” you beg, sob. “You, Hyuka, please.”
Your answer makes Kai growl roughly into your hair, buck his hips quick and dirty against your ass. His white-knuckle grip on your hips makes your head spin, only growing tighter. “Fuck. You want me? Want my cock? Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you.”
The bed creaks when Kai gets off, his deep little chuckle reverberating through your body. Missing his touch, you roll over onto your back to watch him as he digs through his nightstand drawer, the raw skin of your ass stinging when they brush up against the sheets. Kai giggles triumphantly when he finds a condom, quick to tear the foil with his teeth, and the sweet, innocent noise of his laughter is almost enough of a distraction from his long fingers pulling down his waistband. His cock slaps up against his belly obscenely when fully freed, flushed pink and twitching, flared mushroom tip leaking tantalizing pearls of precum— you bite your lip to hold in your gasp, cunt clenching around nothing at the sight.
“Why are you looking at me like that..?” Kai laughs, his blonde bangs shading his blushing cheeks as he sheepishly lowers his gaze to the ground. It would be like him, you think, to be embarrassed in a moment like this. He looks so sexy you could cry.
“I… I don’t think it’ll fit..” you admit in a whisper, thighs shaking.
“Oh baby,” Kai coos, sugary sweet, that hesitant nervousness melting into something darker, more alluring. You watch him roll the condom over his thick, leaking cock with bated breath and a throbbing core. “I’ll make it fit, don’t worry.”
Kai moves too quickly for you to react, grabbing at your ankle and pulling you down the bed with shocking ease. You wrap your legs tight around trim waist as he brings your hips together in a delicious clash of skin. He pries your legs apart over his shoulders, pushes your knees to your chest to spread you out fully for his view— the movement makes his cockhead slide rough and fast up your slit to knocks hard against your clit, making you both moan. He stares at your throbbing pussy in rapture, wide eyes with blown pupils making you squirm and fight the urge to hide.
“God, you’re so wet,” Kai breaths, sliding two fingers between your folds, spreading around the mess of slick— soon he has them pistoning hard in and out of your hole, scissoring them apart and stretching your quivering gummy walls so perfect, rubbing up against all your neglected sweet spots as you moan his name. Your pussy gushes with the lewdest wet sounds, nasty enough to make your ears burn. “Wettest cunt I’ve ever seen. Gotta stretch you so I can fit, yeah?”
“Don’t need it!” you gasp, tugging at the handcuffs still keeping your arms snug behind your back. You want more than anything to touch, to guide Kai to where you need him the most. You don’t know how much more teasing you can take. “I don’t need it, don’t need the condom, just need you… just fuck me!”
“No condom?” he echoes in disbelief, stroking himself with his free hand. “A-are you sure? I mean, I’m clean, and I’m sure you—”
“Take it off!” you hiss
Kai pulls his fingers out, leaves your hole gaping and fluttering as he tugs off the condom and lines his cock up— it feels so much realer without the latex in the way, hot and spreading precum around your cunt. Hiis cockhead feels impossibly big pushing up against your entrance, so close it’s threatening to slip inside. “Come on, princess,” Kai teases, rolling his hips. “Good whores say please, don’t they?”
“Please!” you beg, desperate and whiny. You’ve never needed a cock this badly in your entire life. “Fuck me, Hyuka, please!”
Kai lets out the prettiest broken moan, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth thrust. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately settling into a punishing rhythm pounding you into the mattress. You’re overwhelmed in seconds, mindless and reeling in the best possible way, your high pitched staccato moans overtaking his breathy groans.
“B-big!” you hiccup, eyes rolling back from the onslaught of pleasure. His thick cock so deep you can feel him in your belly, so stretched out you fear that he would tear you in half, his fat cockhead knocking at your cervix with every thrust and sending wave after wave of euphoria through your body. Without a condom you can feel every little ridge and vein, how he twitches and throbs inside of you. His intensity leaves you breathless, unable to think or hardly speak, each thrust surrendering you deeper into the throws of submission and desire. “Too big!”
“‘Too big?’” Kai mocks, his hips unrelenting, sticky wet plap plap plaps echoing off the walls making your cunt clench around him. “Am I too big for your little cunt, baby? After you were begging for my cock like a little slut?”
You can’t reply, can’t do anything other than mewl and cry as Kai splits you open. He seems to like that quite a bit.
“Being’ fucked so good you can’t speak? Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re so hot. Been wanting this forever, you have no idea—“ Kai’s rambling, pretty face flushed pink and his brown puppy eyes so dark and wild; he seemed completely lost in the feeling of you, so ruthless yet unfocused as his hands tug at the hem of your dress. You had forgotten you were even still wearing it, pushed up to gather around your waist. “You’re mine now, you hear? Pussy’s all mine. Never— fuck, never letting you go.”
He pulls the top of your dress down so it hangs uselessly around your middle, your plush tits spilling out to meet Kai’s hungry gaze and greedy fingers. Your perky nipples harden from the cold air, flushed and begging to be touched; Kai can’t seem to help but stare as they bounce with each of his thrusts, his tongue falling out of his panting mouth like a hungry dog. “Pretty tits,” he pants, reaching up to gently slap one of your breasts— he groans at the jiggle, the way you whimper when his palm meets your sensitive flesh. “I’ve always— I’ve always loved your tits.”
He captures your pert bud between his lips, hot wet tongue soothing the skin he had just slapped; he’s so rough with it, nibbling and sucking bruises, pinching and twisting the one not in his mouth between his thumb and forefinger. The sensations combined with Kai’s quickening hips, his unbelievable words drive you to the brink of ecstasy, your shrill cries deafening even in your own ears. “Hyuka!” you beg shrilly and tearfully, but you’re not sure what for. “Hyuka, please, please—!”
“Shut up.” He mumbles, pulling away from your nipple with a wet pop. His hand moves from your overstimulated breast to encircle your throat, his grip tight, fingers squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch and your brain fuzzy. He keeps you pinned to the mattress by your throat, keeping you perfectly still to receive the hard, rough thrusts of his hips. You gasp in shock, your hazy eyes blown wide, his grip adding a delicious edge to your arousal, his words churning hot in your belly… your pussy spasms around Kai’s cock, gummy walls sucking him in impossibly deeper as you finally let the pleasure overtake you.
“I’m gonna cum!” you bleat, your chest heaving, his fist still clasped so perfectly tight around your throat. “Kai, I’m gonna, I—“
“Shh, princess,” Kai laughs breathlessly, his voice cracking as his hips stutter. His grip loosens, other hand coming to rub electrifying circles against your clit. “Gonna cum all over this cock? Fuck— I’m gonna cum too, baby, you feel so good! Gonna— Can I cum inside you? Wanna cum inside you. Cum with me, okay? Come together with me—!”
You can’t take his words— hot fire in your belly roars, engulfing your entire being, and you’re sent over the edge in a symphony of pleasure. You’re barely able to nod, and the minute you do Kai follows close behind with a beautiful whiny moan. His cock twitches violently inside of you as he releases spurt after spurt of his hot, thick load deep into your womb, filling you up until the frothy, white mess leaked around around his shaft.
Kai huffs and puffs for a few moments before flopping on top of you, almost entirely dead weight; you squeak in complaint, your arms going numb and the metal handcuffs biting into your back. He kisses you as an apology and pulls out slowly, rolling over just enough to undo the cuffs and toss them aside, quickly coming back to snuggle against your chest as you wrap your arms around him. As the two of you catch your breath, chests rising and falling with the intensity of your shared orgasm, Kai tenderly caresses your waist, surprisingly hesitant and gentle in contrast to all of his touches before. His melted chocolate eyes meet yours, filled with passion and desire and something a little more. “That was…”
“Amazing.” you finish, a blissful smile gracing your lips.
“Can.. can we do that again?” Kai asks eagerly. “Not now, but like. Later. All the time? We should do that all the time.”
You guffaw, throwing your head against the mattress, and Kai nuzzles against your jaw with a happy, satisfied purr. His cum leaks from your pussy down onto the bedsheets, mixing with your own release to leave the both of you cuddled together in a nasty wet puddle.
You’ve never felt better.
“Are you asking me that as my best friend, or are you asking me that as my boyfriend?” you snort.
Kai lifts his head to blink at you owlishly, before a delighted grin takes over his pink sweaty face. “I can be your boyfriend?!”
You shake your head, guiding Kai back down to nestle into the hollow of your throat. Your relationship was something the two of you could talk about later. For right now, you just want to hold him. “You’re an idiot.” You tell him lovingly.
summary: You transfer into an elite university and immediately clash with top law student Jay — cold, brilliant, untouchable. Your debate styles couldn’t be more different, and your rivalry becomes the talk of campus. But behind closed doors, the tension builds into something deeper. As you challenge each other in the courtroom and beyond, Jay begins to fall — slowly, unwillingly, completely.
masterlist | wattpad
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It starts with your name being called last.
You’re the only transfer student admitted into Holloway’s competitive law program this semester—a fact that’s earned you a dozen side-eyes before you even sit down in Advanced Trial Strategy, the most competitive class on campus.
You walk in ten minutes early, arms full of color-coded binders, bright-orange post-its fluttering like warning signs. Your blazer’s slightly oversized, your hair’s still half-curled from the wind outside, and your lips are glossed pink.
You are sunshine, disorder, and ambition in heels.
And the only seat left when you enter… is next to him.
Park Jongseong.
Or, as everyone in this building knows him: Jay.
Word around campus is he doesn’t speak unless he has to. Cold. Distant. The best student Holloway’s had in five years. You’ve never met him, but your best friend Yunjin made a whole bingo sheet on your first night in the dorm titled:
“Ways Jay Will Silently Judge You.”
You take the seat next to him.
“Hi!” you chirp, smiling as you drop your bag with a thud. “Sorry, is this okay?”
He doesn’t look up.
He just nods once and continues typing.
Rude.
But you’ll win him over. You always do.
⸻
Professor Song doesn’t do warm-up lectures. He walks in and says, “You two. Argue.”
He points straight at you. Then at Jay.
“Prosecution. Defense. Five minutes. Go.”
You blink.
Jay closes his laptop with the calm of someone about to commit murder.
You scramble for your notes. “Wait—what’s the—what’s the case?”
“No case,” Professor Song says. “You invent it. You argue it. I want to see how your minds work under pressure. Let’s go.”
Jay steps forward. So do you.
He speaks first.
Cold. Precise. Voice like steel on glass. He lays out a fictional embezzlement charge, invents a company on the spot, constructs motive, opportunity, forensic trail—all in two minutes.
You stare at him, stunned.
Then you smile.
You don’t match his logic—you dismantle it.
Your voice rises with every sentence, full of conviction. You talk about social dynamics, gender disparity in finance firms, the psychological effects of chronic workplace isolation. You shift the narrative. Twist it emotionally.
Jay frowns.
Just slightly. Like he didn’t expect you to hold your ground.
And that’s the moment it begins.
The rivalry.
⸻
Later That Day — Debate Club HQ
You drop into a beanbag next to Yunjin, heart still racing.
“You dueled Jay Park?” she gasps, almost dropping her coffee.
“Technically, yes. Also technically, I think he hates me.”
“Perfect,” she grins. “Your arc begins.”
You groan.
Across the room, Heeseung, the Debate Club President, overhears. He walks over, flipping his clipboard casually.
“I saw it,” he says, grinning. “You actually rattled him.”
“I what now?”
“You rattled Jay. He adjusted his tie five times after class. That’s panic in Jay-speak.”
“Fantastic,” you mutter. “Now he’ll really hate me.”
“Or,” Heeseung says with a smirk, “he’ll have no choice but to start watching you.”
⸻
Jay’s POV — That Night
His notes are organized.
His calendar is strict.
His routine is sacred.
So why has he rewritten the same paragraph of his brief five times tonight?
Jay exhales, pushes back from his desk, and shuts his eyes.
You were… unstructured. Illogical.
You argued like feeling was fact.
But you held the room.
You tilted the scales. You made people feel something.
It was… irritating.
And worse?
He can still hear your voice in his head.
⸻
A Week Later — Debate Club Practice
Heeseung pairs you and Jay again.
Yunjin groans. “He’s doing this on purpose.”
You smile, cracking your knuckles. “Let’s ruin his GPA.”
Jay raises one eyebrow. “You’d have to get close enough.”
“You mean like this?” You slide your chair uncomfortably close to him. He stiffens.
“Unprofessional,” he mutters.
“Effective,” you grin.
Across the room, Eunchae, the first-year wildcard, blurts: “Wait, are they flirting or plotting murder?”
Everyone laughs.
Jay flushes.
You wink at Eunchae. “Why not both?”
⸻
“You’re not here to make friends,” Professor Song says to Jay, eyes unreadable.
Jay stays silent.
“But she is… challenging you.”
“She’s chaotic.”
“She’s not scared of you.”
Jay doesn’t respond.
Professor Song leans back in his chair. “Good. You need someone who doesn’t fall in line. Watch her. See what she teaches you.”
Jay clenches his jaw.
He already is.
__________
The list is posted on the Debate Club bulletin board before 9 a.m. sharp. You’re already there, coffee in hand, windblown hair half tucked behind your ear as you scroll through your phone with one hand and balance your breakfast sandwich with the other.
Jay arrives without a word. You only know because the energy shifts. The hallway goes still.
You glance over. He’s wearing black slacks, a gray turtleneck, a coat draped cleanly over one arm. His expression doesn’t change when he sees the list. But he does read it twice.
You follow his gaze.
Mock Trial Regional: Team A
Lead Counsel: Park Jongseong
Co-Counsel: [Your Name]
You nearly choke on your sandwich.
“What?” you blurt, wiping your hands on your sleeve. “There has to be a mistake.”
Jay says nothing.
You turn. “There has to be a mistake.”
Still nothing.
“Jay,” you say sharply.
He finally looks at you.
“They put us together,” you hiss.
“I can read,” he replies, voice flat. “You might try it.”
You blink. “Are you—did you just sass me?”
He walks away.
You stand frozen for a second before chasing after him down the corridor.
“Okay, look,” you say, keeping pace beside him. “I know you think I’m annoying—”
“I don’t think you’re annoying,” he says without looking at you.
You blink.
“I know you’re annoying.”
You gasp.
He cuts you a glance—barely—but there’s the ghost of a smirk in his eyes.
You stare at him, stunned. And for the first time, you wonder:
Is Jay Park… capable of joking?
You shake it off.
“No way I’m doing regionals with someone who doesn’t even make eye contact,” you mutter.
“Then you’ll forfeit.”
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
His pace doesn’t change. “You’ll compete.”
“You think so?”
“You want to win,” he says. “You’re not the type to walk away from a challenge.”
You hate that he’s right.
You hate more that he knows it.
⸻
Practice is a disaster.
You’re loud. He’s precise. You improvise. He scripts everything down to the comma. By the end of the session, you’ve snapped at each other three times, and Heeseung—your team captain—is rubbing his temples like he’s aged ten years in an hour.
“Again,” Heeseung says. “But this time, try to act like you’re on the same team.”
You sigh and start reading the cross-exam questions, pacing the room with restless energy.
Jay sits straight-backed, flipping through notes, not even glancing at you.
“Objection,” he says halfway through.
“Excuse me?”
He looks up. “Leading the witness.”
“This is a mock trial, Park. The witness is literally Chaewon from Econ in a wig!”
Chaewon, who’s roleplaying the key witness, lifts a hand. “Yeah, can we chill? I’m missing lunch for this.”
Jay exhales through his nose. “I’m trying to make the argument watertight.”
“Well, maybe loosen the screws first.”
Heeseung stands. “Okay! That’s it for today.”
“But we just started,” you protest.
“Exactly. And I’d like to keep my hearing intact,” he says, shooting you both a look.
As people begin packing up, Sunghoon walks in with two iced coffees and zero context.
He stops. “Did I miss a trial or a divorce hearing?”
“Both,” Heeseung mutters. “They’re co-counsels for Regionals.”
Sunghoon grins. “Oh. So this is the end of the world.”
You groan and drop into a chair. Jay doesn’t respond. He just begins rearranging his notes with surgical calm.
Sunghoon leans down beside him. “So how’s she doing?”
Jay doesn’t look up. “Loud.”
“Anything else?”
Jay pauses. “…Unpredictable.”
“Not what I asked.”
Jay looks at him then, sharp. “She’s good.”
Sunghoon blinks. That’s the most praise he’s heard from Jay in years.
“Scary good,” Jay adds, more quietly. Sunghoon grins wider.
You don’t hear any of this. You’re busy bickering with Yunjin about who gets the last of her M&Ms, still frustrated from how the session went. But Jay glances up at the sound of your laugh. And he doesn’t look away.
⸻
That night, you’re back at the shared study lounge in the dorms. You’re slouched on a beanbag, surrounded by case law printouts, pink highlighters, a pack of sour candy, and a half-dead laptop. You’re talking out loud to yourself as you write, bouncing arguments off your own echo like a courtroom in your head.
Jay finds you by accident. He pauses in the doorway. He was headed to the law library, but the sound of your voice made him stop.
You’re talking to the ceiling: “Okay, but what if we flip the whole approach? What if we use the defense’s timeline against them—wait—wait, no, that’s stupid, shut up—”
He watches you for another beat. And then, quietly, he pulls out his phone and starts recording the audio. Just a few seconds. Just enough to remember the rhythm of your argument. He won’t use it. He won’t show anyone. He just… wants to study you. Understand you. Maybe… hear your voice again when he’s alone.
⸻
A few days later, the two of you are summoned to Professor Song’s office. You walk in first, dressed in your usual chaotic professionalism—red blazer, earrings that don’t quite match, a single pen stuck behind your ear. Jay follows, hair slicked back, tie flawless.
“Sit,” Song says.
You do. Jay doesn’t look at you, but he does glance once—just once—at your fingers. You’re drumming them lightly on your knee.
“I’ve been watching your progress,” Song says. “Your styles clash.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand.
“Clashing is not bad,” he continues. “But only if it sharpens you. Does she sharpen you, Park?”
Jay is silent for a long moment. Then: “Yes. You turn your head, stunned.
Professor Song nods. “Then let her.”
You blink. “What about me?”
Song looks at you. “Stop trying to get him to laugh. Get him to think. That’s your job.”
You sit back, oddly shaken. Jay… glances at you. Just a flick of his gaze. And for the first time, something shifts. You don’t say a word. But you’re thinking. So is he.
_________
The university van smells like burnt coffee and wet umbrellas.
You’re twenty minutes into the drive to the Regional Prep Camp, legs curled up under you, earbuds in, head against the cold window. The sky outside is the color of damp paper, and traffic is already backed up past the freeway loop.
Jay’s sitting beside you. Naturally.
He requested the front row—some obsessive need to be near the coach. But the van was full by the time you arrived, and the only empty seat was next to him. You plopped down without hesitation, humming something tuneless under your breath as you adjusted the hem of your skirt and pulled out a bag of gummy bears.
He hasn’t said a word to you since. Which is… fine. You’re used to that.
But the silence between you now is less… cold, more coiled. Not quite hostile, but not easy either. Like you’re both waiting to see which one of you will break the stillness first. You stretch and yawn dramatically.
“Are we almost there?”
Jay doesn’t look up from the law brief he’s annotating. You sigh louder. “It feels like we’ve been in here for five years.”
“Fifty-two minutes,” he replies without inflection.
You glance at him. “Wow. You timed it?”
“I have a watch.” “You really need to learn how to lie for the sake of comedy.”
“I don’t.” You open your gummy bears. The crinkling plastic fills the silence. Then—
“Want one?” you offer, holding the bag toward him.
He finally looks at you. “They’re red.”
You blink. “Yeah? They’re the best ones.”
He hesitates. Then, without looking directly at you, he takes one.
You pretend not to notice the way his fingers brush yours.
⸻
The prep camp is hosted at an off-season resort on the outskirts of town. Big conference halls. Empty dining rooms. One vending machine with three types of stale chips. Your debate team pours into the lobby, lugging duffel bags and garment bags, everyone talking over each other.
You and Jay hang back.
He’s scrolling through the itinerary on his phone. You’re trying to balance your suitcase on one wheel and kicking it every few steps.
“This place is cute,” you say. “In a haunted kind of way.”
Jay hums noncommittally.
“Okay, Wednesday is strategy drills, Thursday’s cross-exam mock-up, and Friday is… oh. Great.”
“What?” you say.
“Paired room check-ins.”
You blink. “With who?”
He turns his phone so you can see.
Room 204: Park Jongseong / [Your Name]
You stare at the screen for a long beat.
Then: “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Jay already looks like he has a migraine.
“There are forty people here,” you say, panicking. “Why would they do this?”
He shrugs. “Maybe they think it’ll build trust.”
“Oh sure. Trust falls and sharing toothpaste. Classic team bonding.”
He glances at you. “You snore?”
You gape. “Do you?”
“I don’t sleep enough to snore.”
“Of course you don’t.”
⸻
The room is small.
Two twin beds. One ancient lamp between them. A desk, a chair, a closet that looks like it might collapse if you breathe too hard.
Jay sets down his bag with mechanical precision. He immediately starts unpacking: laptop, chargers, ironed shirts, folders in labeled document sleeves.
You flop face-first onto your bed and groan. “I want to die.”
“Don’t get your hair on the sheets.”
“Park, I swear—”
He doesn’t respond. But you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.
You sit up and start rummaging through your bag, pulling out your notes, your ridiculous neon stationery, your rainbow pen set, your stress ball shaped like a unicorn.
Jay glances at it. “That’s not regulation.”
“Neither is your soul.”
He ignores you.
⸻
That night, you can’t sleep.
You toss. You turn. You huff into your pillow.
Jay’s perfectly still in the next bed over, eyes shut, hands folded neatly over his stomach like a vampire in a coffin.
You stare at the ceiling.
“I can hear your thoughts,” you whisper.
Silence.
“They’re mean.”
Still silence.
“…You still awake?”
“Unfortunately,” he mutters.
You grin. “Wanna play ‘Would You Rather’?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
He sighs. But doesn’t stop you.
“Would you rather lose a case in front of the Supreme Court or be stuck in a window seat with someone clipping their nails?”
“…Supreme Court.”
You burst out laughing.
His lips twitch. Just barely.
You prop your head up on one elbow and turn toward him. “Okay, your turn.”
He thinks for a moment.
Then, in that same unreadable tone: “Would you rather go one week without speaking… or one week without winning?”
Your smile fades a little.
You’re quiet.
Jay shifts slightly, eyes still on the ceiling.
“I’d rather speak,” you say at last.
He doesn’t ask why.
But you know he understands.
⸻
The next morning, Heeseung calls for a pre-drill strategy review. You shuffle into the conference hall with sleep in your eyes and half a granola bar in your hand. Jay’s already there—fresh shirt, perfect hair, legal pad open.
Heeseung clears his throat.
“I’m going to pair you off again,” he says, flipping his clipboard. “But this time, I want your arguments swapped. You take the opposite side.”
You stare.
Jay lifts an eyebrow.
“You want me to argue his way?”
“Yes,” Heeseung says. “And I want him to argue your way.”
Jay blinks.
You grin, evil. “You’re gonna have to talk about feelings.”
Heeseung claps. “Go!”
⸻
The debate starts.
You’ve never seen Jay struggle like this. His cadence is awkward. His tone too sharp. He stumbles over metaphors.
Meanwhile, you’re flourishing. You mimic his cold logic with exaggerated flair, slicing through rebuttals like a sword through butter.
People are laughing. Cheering. Filming.
You wink at him mid-argument.
He glares.
Afterwards, he storms past you in the hallway.
“Aw, come on,” you say, chasing after him. “I was brilliant.”
“You were mocking me.”
“I was learning your style!”
“You were flirting with the judge.”
You stop.
Jay stiffens. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“You think I was flirting?”
He doesn’t look at you. “Forget it.”
“No, wait—do you think that’s how I win? That I flirt?”
He says nothing.
Your voice drops. “That’s low, even for you.”
Jay turns to face you. “You manipulate.”
You fold your arms. “And you’re a robot.”
“You don’t respect the structure—”
“You don’t listen.”
The hallway is dead quiet. Your voices echo. Just the two of you. Staring each other down like rivals. Like combatants.
He’s breathing harder than usual.
You notice. So does he.
You open your mouth—maybe to argue again, maybe not.
But before you can speak, Heeseung calls you both from the end of the corridor. “You’re on in ten!”
Jay walks away without another word.
You watch him go.
And for the first time…
you’re not entirely sure how you feel.
_________
You wake up before your alarm.
The room is still and gray, painted in thin strips of dawn. Jay’s already up. Of course. He’s seated on the edge of his bed, shirt half-buttoned, eyes on something in his lap — a printed copy of the trial brief, annotated to death in his narrow handwriting.
You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your face buried in the pillow.
There’s something eerily quiet about the way he moves. Precise. Measured. Like he lives by rituals: brush teeth, comb hair, destroy opponents.
It should annoy you.
It used to.
But this morning, you just feel… tired.
You roll over with a groan. “Did you sleep at all?”
Jay doesn’t look at you. “Enough.”
“Was I snoring?”
He hesitates. “…Only a little.”
You gasp. “I knew you were keeping a list.”
His mouth twitches.
You blink hard and sit up, brushing your hair away from your face. “Big day today.”
Jay nods. “First elimination round.”
You both fall quiet.
You pull your knees to your chest.
“Do you ever get tired?” you ask suddenly.
Jay looks over. Frowns. “Of what?”
“Of… keeping it all together.”
He stares at you. You don’t elaborate.
Eventually, he says: “You think I keep it together?”
You smile weakly. “Better than me.”
He doesn’t respond. He just watches you for a moment longer than he should.
And when he turns away, you swear it’s because he can’t afford to let it show — whatever that thing is behind his eyes.
⸻
Later, you’re seated in the prep room, heels off, feet tucked under you, highlighter between your teeth as you scribble final notes.
Jay’s across from you, typing. You haven’t spoken in over an hour.
But then, without looking up, he says quietly:
“You don’t need to impress the judges with charisma.”
You glance up, surprised.
Jay’s still typing. “Your logic’s strong enough to stand on its own.”
You blink.
It’s not a compliment. Not exactly. But from him? It feels seismic.
You look down at your notes, heart unexpectedly tight.
“…Thanks.”
Silence.
Then: “You’re not just flair either,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes. “I mean… you don’t just win because you’re cold and smart. You’re terrifying because you actually care.”
Jay pauses.
Slowly, he closes his laptop.
When he looks at you, his expression is unreadable.
“That’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me,” he says.
You grin faintly. “Don’t get used to it.”
He doesn’t smile back.
But he doesn’t look away either.
⸻
The round is brutal.
Two hours of high-level argument, case law manipulation, and verbal fencing so sharp the judges barely have time to blink. You’re fire and chaos. Jay is ice and clarity. And somehow, it works.
When the verdict comes in your favor, the room explodes.
You’re pulled into hugs. Yunjin screams. Eunchae tries to jump into your arms and misses. Heeseung’s already pulling up the next bracket.
And Jay?
Jay just watches you.
Not smiling. Not celebrating. Just… watching.
Later, you find him outside, near the resort’s empty garden path. The sky’s heavy with storm light, and the air smells like ozone.
You sit beside him on the stone bench. Quiet.
He doesn’t move.
You fold your arms, stare out into the wind. “You okay?”
Jay’s eyes flick to you. “We won.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He exhales. Looks down at his hands.
“…You’re not what I expected,” he says.
You blink.
He still doesn’t look at you. “When I heard we’d be paired… I thought I’d be doing all the work.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And?”
“I was wrong.”
You pause. Your chest tightens strangely.
Jay finally turns his head. His gaze is still flat. But softer. Like a door that’s cracked open for the first time in years.
“I underestimated you,” he says.
The wind lifts your hair. You stare at him, breath caught in your throat.
And you don’t know what possesses you, but you whisper:
“Me too.”
⸻
That night, you can’t sleep.
Again.
You lie awake, eyes on the ceiling, breath shallow.
Jay is motionless in the bed beside you, as always.
You whisper into the dark: “Do you think we hate each other less now?”
No answer.
You roll over. “Jay?”
A beat.
“I don’t hate you,” he says quietly.
You stare at the ceiling.
Then, very softly: “I don’t hate you either.”
Neither of you says anything else.
But when you wake the next morning, the blanket is tucked gently around your shoulders. And your charger—left tangled the night before—is plugged into your phone, perfectly wrapped.
You don’t mention it.
But you remember.
⸻
The next day is chaos.
A judge no-shows. The schedule collapses. A storm knocks out the power in half the resort.
You’re huddled in the dimly lit conference center, scribbling edits by flashlight. Your hair’s a mess, your mascara smudged, and you’ve got coffee spilled down one sleeve.
Jay shows up looking like he just stepped out of a courtroom in The Hague.
You glare. “Did you steal a generator for your curling iron?”
He blinks. “I don’t curl my—”
You throw a pen at him.
Later, when you’re mid-panic about a broken page reference in your outline, he sits beside you silently and starts fixing the citations without being asked.
You glance at him. He doesn’t look back.
But his hand is steady. His edits are cleaner than yours. And for some reason, you feel like crying.
You don’t.
But your voice is quiet when you say, “Thanks.”
Still no reply.
But he doesn’t move away.
⸻
That night is the final prep round.
You and Jay are in sync. No eye contact. No side comments. Just rhythm.
He finishes a rebuttal before you even raise your hand. You cite a case he hasn’t opened yet, and he adjusts mid-sentence to support it. The air is tight with shared momentum.
When the session ends, the judges nod. One claps.
“You’re a dangerous pair,” someone says.
You glance at Jay. He doesn’t smile. But his hand brushes yours briefly as you leave the room. And you don’t pull away. You tell yourself it means nothing. It’s just proximity.
But later that night, you sit awake again, watching his sleeping form in the dark, wondering when he started to feel less like an enemy…
…and more like something dangerous you might miss when this is over.
__________
You forget your flashcards.
It’s the morning of the semifinals, and your heart sinks the moment you realize. They’re not in your folder, not in your tote bag, not in your suitcase. You tear through everything twice.
Jay’s already dressed, tie knotted, jacket buttoned. He stands near the door, watching you panic.
“Did you leave them in the prep room?” he asks.
You blink. “No. I—I left them in the lounge. Last night. I was going over witness statements on the floor and I must’ve—”
You trail off, chest rising.
“I have backups,” you say, trying to sound calm.
Jay doesn’t speak.
You grab your bag, flustered. “It’s fine. I’ll—”
“I already got them.”
You freeze.
He steps forward, reaches into his folder, and pulls out your flashcards—bound with your glittery purple binder clip, a little bent at the corners but all there.
“I saw them under the table after you left,” he says simply. “Figured you’d need them.”
You stare at him.
He shrugs. “You panic without structure.”
You blink hard, unsure if you want to hug him or hit him.
“…Thanks,” you mutter, taking them. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
You say nothing. But your hands shake just a little less when you walk into the room that morning.
⸻
You win the round by a landslide.
It’s clean. It’s controlled. Your rhythm with Jay is airtight now—one argument, one breath, one unspoken signal passed across the table and picked up mid-sentence. The panel applauds before the feedback even begins.
As you exit the conference room, the hallway explodes with movement—Yunjin running toward you, Sunghoon whooping dramatically, Eunchae nearly knocking over a trash can trying to hug you both at once.
Jay stands behind you, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back for just a second too long. You don’t mention it. But you notice.
⸻
Lunch is chaos. Everyone’s celebrating. Someone found champagne. Heeseung is halfway into a story about his own semifinal victory when Jay sets a tray down across from you. You look up, surprised.
You’ve never seen him in the dining hall before. He usually eats alone, in silence, in some corner of the universe that doesn’t include the rest of the living. Now he’s here. Sitting beside you. And—god help you—he’s trying.
He even makes a comment about Heeseung’s story, dry as ever, but people laugh. His delivery is precise, but it lands.
You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s not looking at you. But his shoulder brushes yours under the table. When you offer him one of your fries, he doesn’t hesitate this time. Just takes one. Quietly. Yunjin notices. Raises an eyebrow. You ignore her.
⸻
Later, you’re reviewing one last case file before the final, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the prep room, hoodie sleeves rolled up, eyes bloodshot.
Jay walks in carrying a cup.
He holds it out.
You blink. “What’s this?”
“White mocha.”
Your jaw drops. “You remembered?”
“You ranted about it for ten minutes on the van ride. It wasn’t hard.”
You take the cup.
It’s perfect. Sweet, warm, exact ratio of foam to milk. Your favorite.
You look up at him.
“…You hate sweet things.”
He shrugs.
You pause. “Did you go all the way to the vending annex for this?”
He doesn’t answer.
You sit in stunned silence.
“…You’re trying to calm me down,” you say finally.
Jay looks away.
“I’m not panicking,” you insist.
“You’re shaking your leg again.”
You immediately stop.
He walks over to the table and sits beside you, unfolding his laptop. His arm brushes yours again. This time, neither of you moves away.
⸻
That night, the storm hits.
Hard.
Thunder cracks through the resort like a whip, and the power flickers twice before failing completely. The hallway lights snap out. Somewhere, Eunchae screams.
You sit up in bed, heart racing.
Jay’s already awake.
You can barely see him, but you hear the faint shift of fabric, the steady cadence of his breath.
“Hey,” you whisper.
“Yeah.”
“…Kinda creepy without the lights, huh?”
He doesn’t respond.
You sit in silence a moment.
Then: “I used to be scared of the dark.”
Jay shifts. “Used to?”
“I guess I still am.”
A pause.
You can’t see him in the pitch black. But you feel him—somehow, like gravity.
“I hated sleeping alone as a kid,” you admit. “My mom would leave the hall light on. She’d tell me it was the sun waiting outside the door.”
Jay exhales. A low, soft sound.
“I don’t sleep in silence,” he says after a moment. “I keep a white noise app on loop.”
You smile in the dark.
Another crack of thunder. You flinch.
Then—barely audible—his hand brushes yours between the beds. Not quite touching. But there.
Steady. Real.
“I’m not scared,” you lie.
“Okay.”
You fall asleep like that. The air still buzzing with electricity. His hand not touching yours, but close enough that your breath slows anyway.
⸻
The next morning, your phone dies.
You barely notice until you’re late for the final prep call and frantically trying to open your notes.
Jay’s already there, of course. When you arrive—half-wet from the rain, hair frizzy, eyes wild—he silently turns his screen toward you.
You blink.
He’s pulled up your outline. Annotated it. In your color system.
You look at him.
He says nothing.
But in your section, next to your weakest argument, he’s left a comment:
“You always go for emotion. Go for the throat instead. You can do it.”
You read it three times.
Your chest is tight. Again.
You don’t speak.
But when you look at him…
he’s already watching you.
⸻
You win the finals.
Barely. But you win.
The room explodes again. Applause. Laughter. People crying. Confetti (courtesy of Eunchae, who apparently packed a party popper “just in case”).
Jay is swarmed by congratulations, but he keeps glancing over at you.
You’re hugging Yunjin, breathless. Laughing. Your voice cracking from emotion.
When your eyes meet his, it’s not triumphant.
It’s soft.
Like maybe—for just a second—you forgot the rivalry.
And remembered it’s always been the two of you.
⸻
That night, as the team celebrates, you slip away.
You find yourself outside the resort, near the same quiet garden path. The storm has passed. The sky is open, dark and glittering.
You sit on the stone bench.
And then he’s there.
Jay.
He doesn’t ask to join you. Just does.
You don’t speak.
You don’t have to.
For the first time since this started, there’s no need to fight. No debate. No scoreboard.
Just breath and silence and memory.
And something growing where rivalry used to be.
You don’t know what it is yet.
But you’re not afraid of it anymore.
And neither is he.
_______
The campus feels colder after the win.
Back at Holloway, you expect the buzz to fade, but it doesn’t. Everywhere you go, people talk about the victory. You and Jay. Them. The pair.
There’s even a thread on the university forum titled “Debate Barbie & Ice Prince: Is It Love or Just Tactical Alliance?”
You laugh when Yunjin shows it to you. Jay… does not.
He just reads the comments in silence, then closes the browser.
You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches slightly when he sees a photo of you laughing mid-trial.
⸻
The next week, you’re assigned your first on-campus exhibition debate — a solo round, but you’re expected to workshop it with your previous team partner.
Jay.
You meet in one of the unused classrooms at dusk. Tall windows, golden light spilling over dusty desks, the smell of dry markers and old books.
You’re seated cross-legged on top of a desk, a clipboard balanced on your knee.
Jay sits in the chair across from you. Legs spread, jacket off, sleeves rolled to the forearms.
He looks tired.
He’s never looked better.
You tap your pen against your chin. “I think I want to argue from the angle of comparative morality.”
Jay shakes his head. “Too abstract. You’ll lose the conservative judges.”
“So?”
“So you want to win, don’t you?”
You roll your eyes and hop off the desk, pacing now. “It’s not just about winning, it’s about making people think.”
Jay watches you move — slow, calculating. His fingers curl loosely around the armrest of his chair, and his foot taps faintly.
“You talk like a poet,” he murmurs.
You freeze. Turn.
His eyes are already back on the page. “That’s not an insult.”
You narrow your gaze. “Is it a warning?”
“No.” A pause. “It’s… a reminder. That you don’t think like everyone else.”
You tilt your head. “You mean that as a compliment?”
His eyes flick up. Hold yours.
“It’s an advantage,” he says quietly. “But it’s also why you throw people off balance. You don’t follow the rules.”
You step closer, arms folding. “Neither do you.”
Jay’s eyes flicker — almost imperceptibly — down your body, then back up.
You catch it.
He looks away.
⸻
You walk over to where he’s seated. Not threatening, not seductive—just tired. Just curious.
“You know…” you say, standing beside him, looking down. “For someone who hates people, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to. When you try.”
Jay glances up.
And then it happens.
The moment hangs. No fanfare. No sound. Just breath. Just eye contact. Something sharp in the quiet.
Jay’s gaze lingers longer than it should. His lips part slightly. His hand shifts on the armrest—tightens.
You take a half step back, heartbeat skipping. You meant it as a jab. You didn’t expect it to land.
Jay exhales. One slow breath. Then he stands.
You’re suddenly too close.
He’s tall. Too tall in moments like this. His eyes are dark, hooded with exhaustion and something else—something hotter, buried.
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Your breath catches.
And then—
“Let’s run the opening again,” he says.
You nod. Too quickly. Step back. Turn around to grab your notes—
—and you don’t see the way he stares at your back, jaw tight, hands flexing once at his sides before he forces himself to move.
⸻
Hours pass.
You argue. Rehearse. Re-write. And somewhere around the fourth run, you get frustrated.
Your voice is louder. Your gestures sharp. You throw your pen down.
“I’m too emotional,” you snap. “Right? Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
Jay looks up from his notes.
“I’m thinking,” he says calmly, “that you haven’t eaten in six hours, your eyeliner’s smudged, and you’re still the most compelling speaker I’ve heard this year.”
You freeze.
Your pulse jumps.
Jay doesn’t look away.
“You just need to stop trying to sound like me,” he adds. “You don’t win because you sound detached. You win because you make people care.”
You swallow.
“I thought you said that was manipulation.”
Jay steps forward.
His voice drops just slightly. “I said it works. I never said it was wrong.”
You meet his gaze.
And suddenly — it’s there.
A pause that stretches too long.
A breath too sharp.
Your hand at your side twitching.
Jay’s eyes on your mouth.
You both feel it.
You both try to ignore it.
And you fail.
You turn slightly. He steps closer. The tension in the air is nearly unbearable.
And then—
“Say something,” you whisper.
Jay doesn’t move.
But his voice, when it comes, is gravel.
“You do that a lot.”
You blink. “What?”
“You say things,” he murmurs, eyes trained on your face, “like you don’t know what you do to people.”
You inhale sharply.
“Jay—”
His name cracks out of your mouth too soft, too broken.
And that’s the moment.
He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t touch you.
But his eyes trace every inch of your face like he’s memorizing it. His jaw is clenched. His throat moves with every shallow breath.
He leans in—barely, like instinct—but his hands stay clenched at his sides.
His voice is lower than it’s ever been.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
You don’t breathe.
He tilts his head, just enough for his breath to hit your cheek.
“You walk into every room like you own the air,” he says, voice husky. “Like you’ve never had to second-guess your shine. And then you look at me like you don’t even know.”
Your lips part.
Jay’s eyes flick down to your mouth. Then lower.
Slow.
Hungry.
His gaze drags down your throat, over your collarbones, lingers on the hem of your blouse where it’s started to slip.
He blinks hard. Steps back.
You’re shaking.
He drags a hand through his hair, visibly collecting himself. His chest rises. Falls. He’s breathing like he just ran ten miles.
His voice is hoarse when he speaks again.
“I’m going to get water.”
He doesn’t wait for your answer. He leaves the room like he’s about to burn alive.
You sit down.
Hard.
And you don’t move for a very long time.
_______
You haven’t spoken since that night.
Not really.
You’ve passed each other in the hall. Met in group study. Stood side by side in meetings. But the electricity that once crackled in your arguments is now something heavier, quieter.
Jay doesn’t look at you the same.
You don’t look away like you used to.
Something has changed, and it terrifies you both.
⸻
It comes to a head the night before your exhibition round.
You’ve stayed late in the Debate Club office, combing through notes under flickering fluorescent lights. Jay is across the room, seated with one leg crossed over the other, a legal pad balanced on his knee, pen idle in his hand.
You’ve said maybe ten words in the last hour.
You’re trying to work. Really, you are. But the silence is thick. And the longer it stretches, the harder it gets to breathe.
Finally, you exhale.
“Are we gonna talk about it?”
Jay doesn’t look up.
“About what.”
You stare at him. “Really?”
Nothing.
You drop your pen.
Jay flinches at the sound.
You rise slowly. Walk over. He still doesn’t meet your eyes.
You’re standing in front of him now.
“Jay.”
His jaw tightens.
“Park Jongseong.”
His pen snaps in half in his hand.
You both freeze.
Jay sets the broken pen aside with deliberate control, then stands. Close. Too close.
His voice is low. “You want me to say it?”
You stare at him, throat tight. “I want the truth.”
He exhales. Laughs once. Bitter.
Then he looks at you.
Really looks.
And it’s like watching something shatter behind his eyes.
“The truth,” he repeats.
You nod.
Jay steps closer. The air between you vibrates.
“You want to know why I can’t focus when you’re in the room?” he says, voice quiet and shaking. “Why I’ve rewritten the same brief five times just to delete it again the second you speak?”
You freeze.
“You want to know why I nearly lost it when that guy from Econ put his hand on your shoulder in the library?” His voice drops even lower. “Why I’m not sleeping. Not thinking. Why I can’t stop looking at your mouth when you talk like you’re not even aware of what you do to me?”
Your breath catches.
Jay leans in.
“I love you,” he says. Raw. Unsteady. “I’m so fucking in love with you it’s making me reckless.”
Silence.
You stare at him.
His eyes are dark and exposed — no mask, no filter, nothing but pure, open ruin. His fists are clenched like he’s trying not to touch you. His chest rises and falls with every strangled breath.
“I fought it,” he says, softer now. “God, I fought it.”
You don’t speak.
Jay laughs again — but it’s not amusement. It’s disbelief. Desperation.
“I told myself you were just annoying. Just bright and loud and distracting. That I didn’t like the way you smell. Or smile. Or fight. Or fix people without trying.”
His voice breaks slightly.
“I thought if I ignored it long enough, it would go away. But it didn’t. It got worse.”
You’re still frozen.
Jay steps back — just half a step — like he’s bracing for rejection. Like he’s already writing his apology in his head.
And that’s what makes you move.
You reach out.
You grab the front of his shirt.
And you pull.
Hard.
Your lips crash into his before he can speak again — desperate, breathless, not careful. His hands catch your waist like instinct, anchoring you. One slides up your back. The other grabs a fistful of your shirt.
He kisses you like he’s been dying.
Like this is the first time he’s let himself want something.
You gasp when his teeth drag across your bottom lip. He groans — low, guttural — like he’s been holding back too long.
And then — he pulls away.
Just barely.
His forehead rests against yours. His breathing is ragged.
“I didn’t plan this,” he whispers.
You shake your head. “I know.”
“I still hate how loud you are.”
You smile. “I know.”
“I’m still not done falling.”
You pause.
Your voice breaks when you say, “Then don’t stop.”
Jay leans in again. Slower this time.
But deeper.
Like a confession sealed in the dark.
_______
You’re not used to being quiet around Jay.
Not like this.
Not in the way that feels… soft. Like silence is no longer a battlefield, but a secret you’re both holding between your teeth.
You’re sitting beside him in the nearly empty student café, legs tangled together under the table. Your laptop is open, but you haven’t looked at it in fifteen minutes. You’re watching him instead — chin resting in your palm, your eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the way his lips part slightly when he’s thinking.
Jay doesn’t notice at first.
Or maybe he does.
Because a second later, he glances at you. Blinks slowly. And his whole face softens — just like that.
You grin. “You’re staring at your screen like it owes you money.”
“I’m trying to finish the case brief before my brain collapses,” he murmurs.
“Want me to help?”
He pauses. Looks at you again.
And his voice is gentle when he says, “No. I just wanted to sit near you.”
Your heart stutters.
He says it like a fact. Like telling you the weather. Like of course.
You smile at your coffee cup. “You’re not as emotionally constipated as I thought you were.”
“I’ve had practice. You make it easier.”
You glance at him. “Why?”
Jay leans back in his chair, stretching slightly, fingers laced behind his head. His shirt pulls just a little across his chest, and you hate how distracted you are by that.
“Because you don’t pull away,” he says.
You blink.
He shrugs. “You don’t flinch. You don’t apologize for being loud or messy or bold. You argue like you’ve never had to apologize for taking up space.”
You go still.
Jay turns to look at you fully now, all of him — quiet, intense, open.
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Your breath catches.
You say nothing for a second.
Then, soft as breath:
“I’m in love with you too, you know.”
Jay’s gaze falters.
He swallows.
“You don’t have to say it back—”
“I want to,” you interrupt. “I’ve been wanting to.”
Jay goes silent.
Then: “When did you know?”
You smile a little. “When you brought me coffee. The kind I like. Without asking.”
He exhales. A small, broken laugh.
“You know what’s annoying?” you add.
“What?”
You lean forward, fingers toying with the hem of his sleeve. “Even when you were being impossible, even when I wanted to strangle you with your own tie, I still kind of wanted to kiss you.”
Jay’s eyes darken. Just slightly.
“Still kind of?” he murmurs.
You grin. “I’m being polite.”
He laughs again — soft and real.
And then he says, “You’re everything I’ve never let myself want.”
And you feel it, somewhere deep in your chest — that dangerous, crumbling warmth.
⸻
That night, you’re in the study lounge again. Just the two of you. The others have gone home. The storm outside drums softly against the windows.
Jay is sitting on the couch with his head tilted back, eyes closed. You’re curled beside him, your legs thrown across his lap, reading off a case note.
“Hypothetically,” you say slowly, “if one partner were to… say, distract the other during prep, would that be grounds for debate misconduct?”
Jay’s eyes open.
And they’re darker than they were a moment ago.
“Depends,” he says.
“On what?”
He shifts, and suddenly his hand is on your calf. Just resting. His thumb brushes back and forth.
“On how distracting,” he murmurs.
You pause.
Your heart stutters.
“You think I’m distracting?” you whisper.
Jay smiles — slow, wicked, reverent.
“I think you’ve been driving me insane since the first day you walked into class in that ridiculous orange blazer.”
You gape. “You remember my blazer?”
“Of course I do.”
You blink rapidly. “You said it was unprofessional.”
Jay leans closer. His hand slides up, just a little — from your calf to your knee, fingertips tracing your skin.
“I lied,” he says softly. “It made it impossible to focus.”
You’re staring at him now. Your mouth has gone dry.
Jay’s gaze doesn’t leave yours. “You make me want things I never gave myself permission to want.”
You swallow.
He moves his hand up again. Just barely. But it’s enough to make your breath hitch.
“You’re flirting with me in the most romantic way possible,” you murmur.
Jay tilts his head, and his eyes gleam.
“I’m falling for you in the most helpless way possible.”
You can’t look away.
He leans in. Not to kiss. Just to be close. His nose brushes yours. His voice is low and close enough to feel.
“You make me want to be gentle,” he says. “But I don’t always know how.”
You whisper, “Then learn with me.”
Jay’s hand tightens on your leg, just a little. His eyes flutter shut.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says, raw.
“You won’t.”
He breathes once. Twice. Then opens his eyes and looks at you like you’re the only real thing in the world.
“You’re mine,” he whispers.
You smile.
And say, just as quietly:
“I’ve been yours.”
_________
It starts with a book.
You’re in your dorm common room, curled on the couch in a hoodie and shorts, highlighting a passage from a criminal ethics textbook. Your knees are tucked beneath you. You’ve been reading out loud without realizing, voice soft and lazy.
Jay walks in. He’d planned to drop off your USB. Nothing more.
But the moment he sees you like that — hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair messy, bare legs stretched out — something changes in his chest.
He stops walking. You glance up. Smile.
“You okay?” you ask. He doesn’t answer at first.
His gaze drops to your exposed thigh, then to the highlighter in your hand. Yellow ink is smudged on your knuckle. There’s a post-it stuck to your bare knee.
Jay’s jaw clenches. His eyes lift slowly to yours.
“I just came to drop this off,” he says, holding up the USB.
You hold out your hand. “Come here.” He hesitates. Then walks over.
You shift, making space beside you. Jay sits stiffly, like he’s afraid to move. You tilt your head, watching him with soft curiosity.
“Why are you acting like I bite?”
Jay doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay forward.
You smile. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to stay.”
You go back to your book. And a minute later, you feel it.
His hand on your leg. Barely there. Just resting. But deliberate. You freeze. Jay doesn’t say a word. His thumb moves slowly against your inner thigh — innocent at first, like he’s just grounding himself.
But then he does it again. Slower. Deeper. You don’t look up.
You whisper, “Jay.”
He hums. His fingers slide higher, just enough to make your breath catch.
“You’re distracting me,” you murmur.
“I know.”
His voice is deeper now. A little hoarse.
You finally glance at him.
And your breath catches.
Jay is staring at you like he’s starved. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his mouth slightly open. His other hand is braced against the back of the couch, and he’s leaning into you now — his entire body tense like he’s barely holding back.
You blink up at him. “What are you doing?”
He exhales. “Trying not to ruin you on this couch.”
Your heart punches your ribs.
You open your mouth — to protest, to tease, you don’t know — but he’s already leaning in.
He kisses you.
Slow.
Firm.
But it’s not polite this time. It’s not careful.
It’s claiming.
His hand slides beneath your thigh, pulling you closer. Your book falls to the floor, forgotten. He kisses you again, harder now, like he’s wanted to do this since the first time you rolled your eyes at him in class.
You gasp. And he growls.
“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You grin. “You started it.”
His hand drags up under your hoodie, fingers grazing your bare stomach. You twitch.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours.
You nod.
He tilts his head. “Words.”
You whisper, “Yes. Please.”
That’s all he needs.
He pushes you gently back against the couch, climbing over you — not fast, not rough. Just desperate. His knee slots between yours. His mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Every kiss is deliberate. Slow. Soaked in hunger.
“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he groans. “The way you look at me… the way you argue… fuck.”
His hands slide beneath your hoodie, thumbs brushing your ribcage. You arch into him, gasping.
And that’s when he snaps.
Jay pulls the hoodie off in one motion. His eyes drop.
You’re not wearing a bra.
“Jesus,” he whispers.
He doesn’t even ask.
His mouth closes around your nipple, hot and wet, and your back arches off the couch.
You cry out.
He moans against your chest like it’s killing him. “You taste so good, baby. Fuck.”
His hand dips between your thighs — palm pressed against your clothed core. He groans again.
“You’re wet.”
You whimper. “Jay—”
“You’re soaking through,” he growls. “Did that happen just from me kissing you?”
You nod. Barely.
He grins — dark and slow and dangerous.
“Fuck. You’re mine.”
He slides your shorts down. Pauses. You’re dripping. Jay stares. Then leans down and licks you. One long, slow stripe. You scream his name. And he moans. Like he’s just tasted heaven.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” he whispers. “Been dreaming about this. Every night. Didn’t think it’d be this good.”
His tongue circles your clit. Teases. Presses down. His fingers slide into you slowly — two at once — and your thighs tremble.
“Jay, please—”
“Yeah?” he pants. “What do you want, sunshine?”
You choke on air.
He smirks against you. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nod, whimpering.
“Beg.”
“Jay—”
“Beg for my cock.”
You blink up at him, ruined.
“Please,” you whisper. “Please fuck me.”
Jay growls.
He undoes his jeans with shaking hands, pulls them down just enough. His cock springs free — flushed, hard, already leaking. You reach for him.
He grabs your wrist. Pins it above your head.
“Not tonight,” he says, voice low. “Tonight, I do everything. You just take it.”
You bite your lip. Jay lines himself up. Then slides in. Slow. Thick. Deep. You gasp. He moans like he’s dying.
“So tight,” he grits. “So warm. Fuck, baby—fuck.”
He starts moving. And you fall apart.
________
The moment he pushes in, your breath stops.
Jay is slow at first. Painfully slow. Like he’s memorizing every heartbeat of your body.
His cock splits you open with deliberate care — thick, flushed, so hard you feel every twitch, every vein, every stretch.
He’s on his elbows above you, forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and shallow.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice breaking. “You feel like heaven.”
Your hands are tangled in his hair, and your legs are wrapped around his hips. Your walls clench around him instinctively, and Jay moans — a sound from the base of his throat, raw and ruined.
You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his temple. “I’ve always been yours.”
That breaks him.
Jay thrusts.
Hard.
You gasp — it punches through your lungs. His hips roll, slow and deep, and his cock drags against every nerve inside you, thick and perfect and made to fit.
“Oh my god—”
He pulls out almost completely, then slams back in — balls slapping against your ass, the weight of him filling you, stretching you. His groan is helpless. Animal.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he growls. “So warm—fuck—I could die like this.”
Your nails dig into his back. “Don’t stop—please—Jay—”
“I won’t,” he pants. “I can’t.”
His pace builds. Not brutal — just desperate. His hips stutter. Every thrust makes his balls slap against your soaked folds. You feel every twitch of his cock as he drags through your walls, then sinks back to the hilt again.
“You were made for me,” he gasps. “Fuck, baby—you were fucking made for me.”
You can’t speak. You’re sobbing under him, head thrown back, body arching to meet every stroke. The couch creaks beneath you both.
Jay leans down, kisses your mouth — soft and shaking — then moans into you as his cock thrusts deeper.
“Look at me,” he begs.
You do.
And he’s crying.
Actual tears, caught in his lashes, spilling as he rocks into you, as his hips twitch and his voice breaks.
“I love you,” he says, wrecked. “I love you, I love you—fuck, I’ve never—”
You cry, too. Eyes wide, hands cradling his face.
“I love you more,” you whisper. “You don’t have to hold back.”
Jay slams into you.
Hard.
You scream — because it hits your spot so deep your vision blurs.
He grits his teeth. “You take me so well—so fucking good for me—shit, I’m so close, baby—”
His cock twitches inside you with every word, his balls tightening as he thrusts faster, harder. Every move is pure desperation — pelvis grinding, sweat slicking his chest to yours, your thighs trembling from how deep he’s driving.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “You want that? You want me to come inside?”
You sob. “Yes—please—”
“You’re mine,” he gasps. “Mine—mine—mine—”
His thrusts falter. He chokes on a cry.
And then he comes — cock pulsing deep inside you, hips pressed tight to yours, his whole body trembling as he spills into you.
You clench around him, crying out his name, and the orgasm slams through you too — walls fluttering, back arching, vision going white with it. You both go still. Breathing. Shaking.
He collapses onto you, but doesn’t pull out. His cock stays inside, twitching gently. You’re full. So full.
Jay’s face is in your neck. His breath hitches.
“I love you,” he whispers again.
You kiss his temple. Your voice trembles. “I know. I love you too.”
_______
The sunlight comes through the windows like honey.
You wake slowly, your face pressed into a warm chest, fingers splayed across a bare shoulder. Jay’s arms are wrapped around you, one leg tangled between yours, his breath soft and even against your hair.
You shift slightly. He stirs. And then — the quietest, sleepiest groan rumbles in his throat. You glance up. His eyes flutter open. Focus. And then he smiles. That smile. The kind that makes your stomach somersault.
“…Hi,” you whisper.
Jay tightens his grip. “No. Stay.”
You laugh into his collarbone. “We’re going to be late.”
“I don’t care.”
“You always care.”
“I don’t now.”
You grin. “Why not?”
He kisses your forehead. “Because I get to wake up next to you.”
⸻
By the time you make it to the quad, it’s already buzzing. Yunjin spots you first.
She raises an eyebrow as you approach, your hair still a little mussed, Jay’s hoodie wrapped around your frame.
She looks at the two of you. Then at the faint bruise on your neck. Then slowly raises her iced coffee like a toast. “Finally.”
Sunghoon turns. “Wait, what?”
Eunchae nearly drops her bag. “Did they kiss?”
Yunjin grins. “Oh, baby girl. They did a lot more than kiss.”
Jay lets out the softest exhale through his nose and runs a hand down his face.
You shoot her a look. “Yunjin.”
“What?”
Heeseung strolls up just then, flipping a file open. “Please tell me I don’t have to reassign the team because of some domestic dispute—”
“No dispute,” you say quickly.
Jay adds, without hesitation: “I’m hers.”
Your heart lurches.
The group goes quiet.
Then Yunjin squeals. Eunchae gasps. Sunghoon throws his arm around Jay’s shoulders like a proud older brother.
“Oh my god, she claimed him,” Eunchae whispers.
“Finally,” Yunjin beams. “My enemies-to-lovers brain has been starving.”
⸻
Later, after the crowd disperses, you’re sitting on a picnic blanket in the quad, cross-legged, eating from a container of sliced fruit. Jay’s beside you — leaning back on one arm, his other hand resting just barely over your ankle.
You’re telling him about something small — a memory from high school, or maybe the way your dad used to quiz you on Supreme Court cases during road trips. Your words tangle, build on each other, spiral into full-blown storytelling, animated hand gestures and soft laughter and a rant about judicial language.
Jay says nothing. Not because he’s not listening. But because he can’t look away. His eyes are fixed on your face — soft, glowing, focused with such intensity it could light the sun. You’re talking a mile a minute. You’re not even trying. And you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His chest aches. He’s never loved anyone like this. Not even close.
Later that evening, he finds you alone by the study hall window. Sunset leaks orange through the glass, painting the carpet in warm light.
You’re reading. Jay stops in front of you.
You glance up. “Hey—”
“I need to ask you something.” You blink. “Okay?”
Jay looks wrecked. Beautiful. Like he’s bursting.
He walks closer. Slowly. Kneels down in front of you.
Your breath catches. “Jay?”
He doesn’t take your hands. Doesn’t touch you.
He just looks up at you — eyes wide, heart open, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.
“I don’t want this to be a phase,” he says quietly. “I don’t want it to be casual. I don’t want it to be uncertain.”
You swallow.
Jay’s voice breaks. “Can I be yours?” You stare.
“I mean it,” he says, and this time it’s desperate. “I don’t just want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend. Your partner. Your person.” He breathes hard.
“Can I please be your boyfriend?”
Silence. Then you lean forward, cupping his face. Your voice is soft and shaking.
“You already are.”
Jay closes his eyes. And exhales like he’s finally allowed to breathe. You pull him into a kiss. Long. Warm. Certain. And when you pull away, your forehead pressed to his, you whisper:
“You’re it for me.”
Jay smiles. And this time, it reaches his eyes.
____________
THANK YOU FOR READING!! REBLOG IF YOU WANT JAY’S CREDIT CARD 😋😋
Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does.
or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.
minors dni
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 4.5k
WARNINGS― dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him.
CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol
NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.
What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?
Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.
He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say.
“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?”
“Full service.” You remind him.
Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?
You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?
God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.
He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people.
As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible.
“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?”
You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after.
He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name.
Smart girl, just like he knew you were.
“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?”
You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”
His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”
Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone.
And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself.
He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?”
Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call.
Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night.
Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to.
Not after you did cum for him.
“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat.
God, if you had called him that last night…
“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”
“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”
“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.
What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.
You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.”
“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.
Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway.
Maybe he just wishes it was you.
“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name.
You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name.
“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.”
You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home.
It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence.
You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”
What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work.
And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.
How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now.
You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard.
So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you.
You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant.
And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers.
Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay.
You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Ping!
Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief.
NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]
$500 PENDING.
FULL SERVICE.
Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while?
[ACCEPT REQUEST] [DECLINE REQUEST]
Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him.
He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you?
His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh.
Why did he just do that?
Wait.
Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation.
After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.
This is dangerous.
Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.
And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on.
“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”
You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day.
“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.”
“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”
“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”
Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice.
“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.”
Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.
“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.”
You pause, feeling a ping in your gut.
“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”
“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen.
“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”
You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.
“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”
You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him?
You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it.
“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger.
“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice.
Damn.
“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.”
You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else.
“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”
And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.
“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you.
You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up.
“Now, turn on your camera.”
Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.
“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”
“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.”
He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end.
“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”
You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet–
“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself.
“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”
More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end.
“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.
And…
Oh fuck.
“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you.
Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image.
After all, it’s confirmed to be you.
Fuck, that’s you right there.
“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm.
You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him.
“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”
You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing.
“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”
Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly.
“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”
You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.
“Please.”
His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too.
“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”
You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release.
“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”
Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request.
And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning.
“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”
He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties.
You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”
You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom.
“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”
Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure.
“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”
Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now.
“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?”
Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him.
You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him.
“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment.
That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy.
“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick.
Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.
“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”
Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?
“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it.
He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.
“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”
Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way.
“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”
“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”
God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.
He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh.
“Spread your fingers, open up.”
You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.
“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”
Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name.
“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.”
He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break.
“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”
In your horny brain, it makes sense.
“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure.
And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset.
“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name.
“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”
And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.
Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too.
Shit.
He needs you.
“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly.
“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper.
“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing.
“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.
“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”
“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly.
“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”
And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.
“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice.
Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.
“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him.
“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”
There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way.
Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words.
Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?
Are you misreading?
He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?
Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets.
Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.
“Mr.Park?”
It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness.
You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage.
You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects.
A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars.
And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.
― part one here!
After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided.
or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy.
minors dni
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 14.5k
CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.
NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!!
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Avoidance.
That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.
It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities.
The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.
You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life?
The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?
Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world.
For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work.
Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”
You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again.
That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day.
Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you?
Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out?
After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–
You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans.
You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?
Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.
[insert your name here],
The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines.
Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.
Thank you,
HR
Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.
Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.
The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.
But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.
Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either.
The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle.
Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you.
Maybe you’re still overreacting.
Or maybe you dreamed all of this up.
You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.
And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.
You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?
You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him.
And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.
You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him.
Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him.
Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t.
And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something.
Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late.
Thank you,
Park Sunghoon
Division Manager
000-000-0000 ext. 000
Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously?
You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath.
In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.
So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature.
Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?
“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes.
It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest.
“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk
You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?”
You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath.
“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual.
Not anger. Not disappointment.
He looks worried.
“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.”
You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.
“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.
“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”
You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again.
You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.
“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.
“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor.
“I will reiterate then.”
You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you.
“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”
Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.
“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.”
You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?
“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.”
You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.
So this is it?
So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.
“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation.
“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”
Now you feel a bit…pissed off.
Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?
What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy.
You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.
Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?!
Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it.
Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching.
Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?
“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.
You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office.
“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”
“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”
“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”
“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?”
Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.
Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call.
But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.
Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?
Fuck.
Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both.
And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out.
“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”
Sunghoon raises his hands in defense.
“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”
“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?”
Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.
So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people?
“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”
Oh, he’s actually stuttering.
“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”
In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it.
Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.
But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera.
You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers.
And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.
But you…
You’ve seen him dirty.
Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.
“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”
“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.
Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.
“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky.
There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.
You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”
“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles.
Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?
“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.”
He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues.
“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.”
Silence.
“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”
You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him.
“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance.
His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.
To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too.
Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep.
“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”
“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.”
He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you?
You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.
“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”
More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe.
“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.”
“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated.
You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before.
“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.”
Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?
Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from.
“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll. “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?”
Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further.
“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.”
You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone.
“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”
Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him.
“Maybe.”
You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe.
“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.”
He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion.
“Did you take advantage of me?”
He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself.
“Would I let you do it again…?”
Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?
God, hasn’t he already let you?
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”
“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose.
“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”
Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off.
Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?
Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you.
He wants you so badly.
“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”
“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”
“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone.
“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow.
“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”
Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?
Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work.
“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it.
“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock.
Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?”
You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder.
Click.
“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”
“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant.
“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain.
“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute.
Far too cute.
“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.”
Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?!
You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.
Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary.
“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”
You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him.
“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.
“No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”
You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt.
You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers.
“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”
A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.
”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”
You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you.
After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.
All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels.
You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—
“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”
Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.
He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this.
In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online?
At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?
Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it.
“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”
The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?
”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound.
He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt.
“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons.
And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you.
If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him.
And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all.
He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt.
There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.
The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.
He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage.
You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper.
“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”
You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself.
His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over.
Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him.
“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”
You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs.
His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to.
You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.
“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants.
He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now.
“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”
Oh. You lost your train of thought.
Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more?
So cute.
He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them.
You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs.
“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly.
Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?”
God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…
You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you.
“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”
You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence.
But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that.
“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth.
You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.
His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this.
But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–
“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.
“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth.
The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to.
A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue.
And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply.
He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks.
It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–
Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier.
He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.
Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple.
He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this.
It feels better than jerking himself off.
“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be.
You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time.
“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”
You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin.
“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”
And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you.
“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”
That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you.
You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans.
He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it.
And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.
“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you.
Oh, his cock. It’s right there.
Oh.
His face–
“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”
You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.
“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”
Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath.
God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.
And not just anyone. His lips.
You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it.
He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you.
And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you.
He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you.
You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”
You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you.
“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now.
You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once.
Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you.
“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”
You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.
You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.
It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him.
“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”
You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh.
“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-”
“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”
You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand.
“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.”
You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now.
But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying.
“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”
You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.
So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you.
You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable.
“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”
You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long.
He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base.
“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”
You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing.
You’ve still only given him nothing.
And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp.
“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”
He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.
You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest.
“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them.
Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.
And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.
It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you.
All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair.
The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear.
“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”
Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah.
“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe.
“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”
You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly.
“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.
Quite fuckable, even.
You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly.
“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”
Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls.
You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.
“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”
You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair.
“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you.
“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”
You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him?
Honestly, who gives a fuck?
You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it.
The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips?
That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his.
He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.
So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.
Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him.
“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?”
You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general.
“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth.
“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter.
You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear.
“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.”
You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.
Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.
Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.
There, you look at him. You really look at him.
What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him.
“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”
You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips.
You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.
As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks.
Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants.
You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–
“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”
You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing.
“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”
Oh.
“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.
“Oh–shit.”
It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound.
“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”
“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”
He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it.
To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–
He kisses you.
After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.
He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.
And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety.
You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…
He’s soft. Gentle, almost.
Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking.
You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection.
Intimacy.
And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you.
“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.
It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed.
“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode.
You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice.
“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work. I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–”
Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work.
“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”
“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”
Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.
“Absolutely not?!”
“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?”
Sunghoon stares at you before smiling.
“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”
You lend a half-joke gag at him.
“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”
Sunghoon thinks hard.
“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”
“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”
“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”
“Oh, I’m personal business now?”
“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.”
“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.”
Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?
“Who else has applied?”
“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.”
You pause.
“Why?”
“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”
“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”
You damn fucking right you have.
“How many are still in the running?”
“Two.”
Oh, this job is soooooo yours.
“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”
Oh, he thinks you want him that badly?
“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”
“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!
♯ __┆ ⭑ KNOT YOUR BUSINESS🕯️ Niki prefers his pre-cum to your Dior lip gloss. That’s it .ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ
─── No further synopsis for drabbles.
⋆ | [🕯️] | ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ᩙა. Bad boy! Nishimura Riki x Fem! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ── mature mdni, omega x alpha, omega verse, power imbalance, privileged fem reader, lwky bimbo reader, hyperfem reader, dubcon! (under biological influence), size difference (big dik rik agenda), degradation (not the sexy one he’s just angry), dirty talk, degradation (the sexy one now), swearing, praise kink, overstimulation, marking, scenting, bodily fluids, socio economic inequality, mentions of nicotine (big rik things), knotting, mirror sex, explicit sexual content, angst-ish at the start, pre-cum as lipgloss. That’s it.
Word count: 2K +
MANIS🎐: heavily inspired by @yurillit, and this post specifically. (Proof read but in intervals so there might be something I missed)
Riki heard you before he ever set eyes on you. A snickering drunk alpha, tugging at his patience, thin darkened lips slurring mentions of a "delicate lil' thang dropping stacks at his charity".
Enraged was an understatement, there's not a single word to describe just how much your nosy behavior irritates him.
This little stunt you pulled is an example of just that, not only did you inadvertently make yourself a target for the nastiest scum, but you just let everyone on the streets know that Riki has a soft spot with deep pockets.
There's something seriously wrong with you and he's yet to figure it out.
How can someone be so naive, what's your problem? What are you looking for, always sticking your nose in his business, without so much as a clue of what it is.
He finds you two blocks away, still in his parts of town, eyes trained to the gps on your phone, your figure adorned in a pricey pink wool set, you looked like the type of prize people in this part of town don't take mercy on, gambler's lucky to be robbed and left for dead.
"Riki? Oh wow! Thank goodness you're here" you gasp as he emerges from the distance. "I tried talking to those men but I think I might've made a mistake, I don't know what happened, I was just trying to—"
"Just trying to what?" He cuts off, eyes sharpening as his presence inching closer, a dark suffocating weight, his brows furrowed at your guilty expression, the same one you wear when he finds you like this, your tail between your legs.
"No Ki, I promise, this time I was just trying to help, I didn't mean to—". Riki didn't let you finish, he didn't need to, he'd heard you make this promise at least a hundred times before.
"Stop fucking helping! Just stop!" He meant to end there, but as the pre-rut fever furnaced his skin, and the ache in his core grew unbearable, he couldn't help but snarl at you. "Playing savior again, in a world you have no clue about isn't helping jack shit."
"Am not, I just wanted to—" you cried out, voice cracking as your teeth sunk raw into your lip, a copper scent breaching his heightened senses.
"Well you didn't" he bites, stepping into your personal space until your back hit a rusted lump post. "What's with you and thinking you can buy whatever you want, you can't buy my damn safety. You just put a target on our backs because you're so fucking nosy. stay in your own lane doll, you don't know nothing about mine."
Your eyes swelled with tears at every word, fingers tightening at the straps of your new coach purse, scent spiking in distress— slightly bitter, decaying utterly devastated and utterly submissive. His alpha should've stood down, should've reeled his pre-rut back in at the sight, but your scent hit him like a drug, nothing in comparison to his highest puff of nicotine.
Riki wants more of this, he wants to be mean, wants to tear you apart right there on the pavement just to see you break for him.
"Go home." Voice low, dropping to a tone you've never heard him use before, a terrifying register that had your knees ready to give out. "Go do the mindless shit you do all day, and stay out of my life. You wouldn't last a day in it"
You listen, you always do. You can be good when he wants you to be, he appreciates that most about you. Your silhouette faded in the distance, Riki was left to his clenched fists, and a mind already playing with the image of your flushed, tear streaked face and glossy lips.
Twenty-four hours later, his frustration wore off, the "mean" alpha agenda gone with it, replaced by a man lost to his biology and consumed in a heat of want. Riki's rut hit him like a damn speed train, every thought a jagged shameful thought of you, your tears, your mouth, that scent.
He doesn't knock—he's never done that before, why start now?. He sneaks through the balcony door of your pristine apartment, reeking of sweat, desperation and a driving need. You're at your vanity, soft silk pajamas hanging loosely by your shoulders as you brush your hair, a stark contrast to his own. He ran a quick hand through his dark hair, blonde streaks catching light with every movement.
When your eyes land on his lean figure, you start to apologize profusely, mouth an overflowing river of "sorry's" and "I didn't mean to's". He paid them no mind, just inches closer and closer until the gap between you was filled entirely with him and only him. You remained seated, voice dying down the closer his crotch got to your eye level.
"I told you to stay away from me, doll." he rasps, fingers tangled in your freshly tamed hair, pulling your head back so you have to look up at him. His eyes a dark, pupils blown wide with need. "Anyone ever tell you how pretty your mouth is?"
He questions, free hand already working his belt open, unzipping his denim jeans before pressing your lips against the bulge beneath his briefs. You slowly pulled them apart to suck at the fabric, nose engulfed in his musky basil scent, tongue lapping at a damp spot by his length.
"Shame you can't shut it" he breathes out,
Riki's thumb lingers on your bottom lip as he pulls you away, dragging the drop of salt-heavy moisture across the soft peak of your pout. He watches with a sick, possessive sort of satisfaction as the light from your vanity mirror catches the wetness.
His pre-cum.
Giving your mouth a gloss that looks more expensive—and far more dangerous—than anything you've ever bought.
"Look at you," he rasps, his hand tightening in your hair just enough to tilt your chin up further. "Crying over me yesterday, and now you're sitting pretty with my mess. Better than Dior, isn't it? Tell me it's better doll."
You can't even find your voice.
You're eye-level with the heavy, dark cotton of his briefs, the heat radiating off him hitting your face in waves. The bulge there is terrifying—furious and twitching—and as you stare, a fresh stain of dampness seeps through the cotton, mere inches from your nose.
He lets out a jagged, frustrated breath, his Alpha scent turning thick and cloying, like smoke to your pink room. "I spent all day thinking about how much I wanted to ruin that pretty face of yours. To make you pay for being so fucking stubborn."
He doesn't wait for your apology. He reaches down, fingers already slick with playing in his own arousal, and shoves two of them into your mouth.
"Taste it," he commands, his voice vibrating through your skin. "Suck them. I want to see how well you can take orders when you aren't busy trying to fix my life."
The taste is sharp—musk, salt, and the raw essence of his full blown rut.
You wrap your tongue around his fingers, your eyes welling with fresh, overwhelmed tears as you look up at him through your lashes. Riki's head falls back, a low, guttural growl ripping from his chest at the sensation. He's losing it; the nonchalant "bad boy" is drowning in the feeling of your warm, wet mouth working for him, working to please him.
"Yeah, just like that," he groans, his hips giving an involuntary thrust toward your face. "So good when you're quiet. So fucking cute when you're listening."
He withdraws his fingers with a wet pop, the string of saliva connecting his fingers to your lips. Before you can even catch your breath, his hands are at his waistband. He doesn't go slow. He shoves the briefs down, and for a second, the sheer size of him—angry, reddish, veined, and leaking—makes you want to crawl backward.
But you don't. You're "good". His good omega.
Riki grabs your shoulders, his thumbs digging into your collarbones as he forces you to stay there. He leans down, his dark eyes staring into yours.
"You wanted to be in my world so bad?" he mutters, voice a dark promise. "Here it is. This is the only part of me you get to handle. Now, kiss it. Put that mouth to work, show me you're worth the trouble you cause me."
You lean in, your breath hitching as your lips graze the furious, pulsing tip. The moment you swirl your tongue around the crown, Riki's knees nearly buckle. He lets out a curse—something filthy and jagged—his grip on your hair turns desperate. He's addicted. He hates it, and he loves it, and he's going to make sure that by the time he's done, you don't remember a single thing about his world except for the way he feels inside you.
Riki's head snaps back, a jagged, strangled sound ripping from his throat as you take him in. He expected tentative; he expected a "good girl" who would shy away from the sheer weight of him never being exposed to something like this. Instead, you wrap your tongue around the head of his cock with a practiced, devastating skilled suction that has his fingers spasming violently in your hair.
"F-fuck," he wheezes, his hips giving into the involuntary, desperate twitch against your mouth. "Where did you... How did you… who taught you to use your mouth like that?"
He's shaking, the nonchalant "bad boy" persona completely destroyed by the way you're working him. You don't stop, swirling your tongue around the furious, pulsing vein and drawing him in deep until he's growling, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
He's at his limit—he can feel the sticky heat of his pre-cum slicking your tongue, his wolf screaming that this isn't enough. He doesn't want to spill on your face; he needs to be inside you. Needs to claim his good omega, show her, he’s proud of her working so hard to please him.
He hooks his arms under your armpits, hoisting you up with a low, guttural grunt. You're as light as cotton candy in his calloused hands, a contrast to the heavy, jagged heat rolling off his skin.
He carries you two steps to the bed, but he doesn't lay you down on the fluffy white blanket, no. He sits back against the headboard, his legs splayed, and pulls you onto his lap— making you face the vanity mirror so you're forced to see the absolute wreckage you've become.
"Look at yourself," he rasps against your ear, his voice a jagged edge of praise and possessiveness. "Look at how fucking slutty you look."
He shoves your silk pajama top up until it's bunched above your breasts, leaving your chest heaving and bare, your nipples peaked in the cool air. Below, your cunt is a tight mess of red heat and slick—your body screaming for a friction only he can provide.
"Ki…" you sob, the word catching in your throat as he positions you. You look ruined—hair matted to your forehead, lips puffy and swollen—but the way Riki looks at you, eyes bloodshot and entranced, makes your soul shatter.
"Tell me..." he groans, voice rough and needy, his hands bruising your hips as he guides you down. "Tell me how it feels to have me back..."
"It's t-too much," you choke out, your teeth grinding in pure, agonizing pleasure as you slowly lower yourself onto his length.
You can feel him everywhere—deep inside you, his cock pressing relentlessly into your g-spot, each inch lower sending a wave of pain and pleasure through you. The bulge of his cock digs into your stomach, and every time you sink down, the tip kisses your cervix, slamming into it with a hard, grounding force.
"Fuck," he swears, pulling away from the nape of your neck to catch sight of your expression in the glass—eyes puffy, lips parted, trembling beneath the weight of him.
"Yyou're lucky you're so damn..." he groans, breath hitching as he feels your walls clench tight around him. "Agh—fuck." He shudders, hips stuttering for a moment as his orgasm looms closer.
He doesn't want to waste a drop on your face; his wolf is screaming to be buried, to fill you until you're leaking .
"That's it... you're close already?" he laughs, a breathless, dark sound even as he keeps driving up into you without missing a beat. The tell-tale swell at the base of his shaft begins to pulse, his knot growing with a brutal, finality, settling you on to him for as long as his wolf desires.
"R-riki! Please!" you sob into his shoulder, voice cracking as your your stomach coils impossibly tight, the tension burning through your entire body. You pant into his mouth, your cries muffled as he finally crashes his lips against yours, his knot stretching you until you can't think, can't breathe , can’t talk—just a good, sweet omega taking everything her alpha gives her, no back talk, no stubborn behavior, just unrestrained submission.
Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.1k
A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3
“Open up f’me, beautiful.”
Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.
Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?”
So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here?
“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”
It was a half-threat - really, it was.
But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-
Oh.
Oh.
It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees.
“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough.
It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet.
He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.
And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch.
Oh, shit.
Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”
Still no answer.
Absolutely nothing.
It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor.
Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later.
But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain.
Shit- what was he even thinking?
Choso was here for you and only you.
He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”
Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too.
Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you.
But that was a conversation for another time.
And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring.
Something about this smell was so…hypnotic.
And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.
Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was.
But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.
That is, when he hears it. That.
Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”
.
.
.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.
After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right?
“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”
Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-
No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.
You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike.
Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school.
You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty.
Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega.
A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck.
But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark.
He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them.
Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired.
Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.
Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience.
Like he was right now.
Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door.
And only one word registers in your mind - alpha.
Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth.
Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud.
Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”
Oh.
Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.
Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl.
Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.
So…pretty.
It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck.
“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”
As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-
“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?”
You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”
With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?
Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”
You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”
Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you.
Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”
You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it.
But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”
Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this.
When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.
Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two.
Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.
There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”
You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”
Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble.
“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”
His words are low. Hot against your face.
And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt.
“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”
SWAT!
Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits.
Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices.
For a second - just a second.
Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.
Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one. Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.
“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”
Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”
And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.
Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-
“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”
No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place.
And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.
And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl.
Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”
No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away.
Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-
“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”
Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.
“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”
So…what?
Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?
But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum.
Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”
Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop.
And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping.
The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.
It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now.
His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…”
Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years.
Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.
“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”
Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt.
He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.
“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”
So fucking impatient.
You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face.
And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put.
But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it.
Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–”
“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”
Fuck.
Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-
“Oh- no. No no no-” His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”
And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs.
His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin.
So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner.
Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”
With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”
“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.
Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”
Oh.
That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe.
Whether he doesn’t even want to.
Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too.
Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.
“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”
More.
More, more, more.
Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside.
You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles.
Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick.
Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot.
“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived.
And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”
So desperate.
Even needier than you.
You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”
And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.
Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”
Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily.
No.
Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over.
Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm.
“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”
You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-
“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”
And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.
Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face.
“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”
Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.
Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose.
Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot.
Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”
You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo.
He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”
Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed.
Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-
Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”
He was ruined alright.
Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth.
That he’s made you squirt.
Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat.
God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace.
“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”
“But, beautiful–”
Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill.
Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant.
Up, up, up-
“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”
“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”
Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile.
With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-
“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”
“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”
Not only was Choso big - he was massive.
The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his.
And was that-
Oh. Fuck.
It was.
Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic.
Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft.
“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”
Oh- two.
And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…”
“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”
Ah, a virgin.
Sweet and absolutely gifted.
And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing.
“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”
“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.
Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.
“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”
And it’s like you wanted him to.
Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious.
And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s.
“But I want you to, Cho.”
SMACK!
You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll.
And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue.
“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”
And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten.
“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”
And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper.
You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”
And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”
He didn’t.
He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming.
“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”
But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more.
Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts.
“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”
“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”
“But I w-ngh! want it-”
He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect.
Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”
And he loved it.
Couldn’t get enough of it - or you.
Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit.
That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”
This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.
Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-
Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped.
Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!
“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”
Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”
Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-
“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”
And soft you were.
This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later.
Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.
“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”
And he’s hot - so feverish.
Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato.
You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously.
“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.
Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices.
“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”
Ours.
God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours.
It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound.
“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”
SLAM!
The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind.
And that’s all he needed to hear.
A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.
All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune.
You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots.
“Boy or girl?”
“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly.
“Boy or girl.”
And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”
Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”
And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”
You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more.
He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”
He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”
And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.
The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too.
Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed-
Before sharply turning to your glands and biting.
Hard.
His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge.
And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other.
Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours.
“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”
You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting.
Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin.
Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-
“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”
And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience.
“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”
It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried.
And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards.
“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”
Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot.
Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls.
Ah, you look so pretty this way.
And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you.
He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously.
And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened-
“Marry me.”
A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.
preview. “I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.
“I’m gonna teach you how to seduce Jay.”
“How?” You fret, swallowing the dry itch away from your throat as he leans in close enough to feel the fan of his next breath caress your Cupid’s bow.
“For starters, come kiss me.”
pairing. alpha heeseung x female omega reader
genre. non-traditional a/b/o AU, pwp, M/F, pinch of fluff(..sigh..), heavy amount of smut, inexperienced y/n
warnings. profanity, morally grey characterization(Heeseung), somewhat bimbo y/n, sneaking around, manipulation, jealousy, possessive behavior, more warnings under the cut. minors DNI.
smut warnings. dubious consent but consented(more so sexual coercion at first), fingering, oral, throat fucking, praise/degradation, Heeseung has subby moments but mostly dominates, spanking, rough unprotected sex, slick, heat sex, breeding, cum inflation, knotting, biting. a big horny mess, enjoy🖤
Summer time means everyone hangs out at your house, staying up late, blasting music loud enough to piss the neighbors off, leaving chlorine foot tracks stamped around the backyard concrete. The smell of sunscreen and alcohol your brother used to have to sneak out of your parents bar combined with confectionery sweets after running to catch the ice cream truck melting beneath sweltering heat, remnants of barbecue ash and fire logs; the few things you dreamt of more and more as the semester’s end approached.
Summer time used to mean longingly staring from your bedroom window as your brother would scream and laugh with his friends and various girls that would pass through, the house reeking of all types of pheromones after; making it obvious when he threw parties even after your parents would forbid it.
But this summer will be different, because you’re finally ready to make a move on your long-time crush. Ideally you would prefer for him to approach you first, but the thing is…
Jay’s too cool. To begin with, he’s hardly ever acknowledged your existence other than being Jake’s younger sister. He may think you’re too naive, innocent, maybe even weird with the amount of times he’s caught you staring at him wistfully, but everything would change soon.
As Jay sits on the ledge of the pool dousing his skin in sun oil, you can’t stop yourself from staring, albeit doing your best to remain inconspicuous behind the poolhouse while pretending to browse for your favorite towel. Staring at people is rude, you remind yourself, but your intentions aren’t..
“You know he hates how you do that.” Large palms come around your waist, dipping lower to pinch at your sides causing you to jump up straight in surprise.
“Heeseung!” You hiss, smacking his prodding fingers away. “What do you mean by that?? Hates when I do what?”
Rolling his eyes, Heeseung motions back and forth between his eyes and the direction where Jay sits. “Stare much?”
“I’m not staring at him!” You quickly mutter, grabbing whatever towel to cover yourself up with. “Besides I—- wait, what do you mean he hates it when I do that?!”
Breaking into a grin he reaches to pull the ends of the towel hanging from your shoulders closer, hugging the warm cotton around you. “You’re not good at this whole secret crush thing are you?”
“It’s..” you grouch, pursing your lips annoyed. “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”
“A cute little pup love.” Heeseung taps your nose. “Pup.”
“Don’t call me that.” You fuss, smacking his hands away once again. “Has Jay ever said anything about me staring or something?”
Heeseung hums, rubbing at his chin sarcastically. “I mean, yeah..”
“Really??”
He laughs, pinching your cheek softly. “Calm down pup, he’s definitely mentioned before something about ‘Jake’s little sister stares too much.’”
“Oh..”
“Don’t think too much about it, pup.” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, he nods, pinching your chin to look at him. “It’s natural wolf instinct is all. You’re an Omega now, hormones are bound to go crazy, but Jay’s no typical Alpha you know.”
“What do you mean?”
Heeseung smiles, examining the worry in your eyes as wheels spin in your mind to decipher what the hell he’s talking about. “Jay’s… experienced. He came out of the womb howling at the moon, if you catch my drift.”
Lack of catching becomes evident by the way you go near cross eyed, staring up at the Alpha full of more confusion. “Innocent, freshly presented Omegas aren’t really his style. Jay.. he’s been around town more than a few times, are you starting to understand pup?”
Heeseung sighs, gesturing ahead to one of the Omegas splashing around in the pool giggling loudly while Sunghoon continues to chase her around, vocalizing the threat of untying her bikini top. “Like her, she gets around. Not really my type,” he swiftly skirts over your intrigued expression, following your gaze back to the Omega flouncing around with an arm across her chest squeaking out in a high-pitch to give her swimsuit back. “But look at the way Jay’s eating her up, bet he wants her.”
Heeseung’s right, you observe peering back and forth between where the object of your attention sits, leaned back on his palms with a cocky smirk; completely focused on the robust giggling Omega slowly approaching him, still topless at that.
“She knows what he wants.” Heeseung continues.
“Maybe.. maybe I could ask Jake to help me.” You muse, tilting your head in observation. “Like you know.. he can tell Jay I like him and—“
“Absolutely not.” Heeseung turns you to face him, glaring at you seriously. “Trust me, your brother cannot know that you want to fuck one of his best friends.”
Spluttering, you shove at the Alphas chest. “I didn’t say all that!”
“Yeah, but that’s what you want, right?” He grins, pinching your chin again to nod your head. “Little horny pup wants big Alpha Jay to plow her into next week.”
“Heeseung!” Charging at him, he laughs tugging you in closely to avoid your balled up fists.
“I’ll help you, we don’t have to involve Jake.”
“You’ll help me? How?”
Heeseung rubs down your spine, glancing toward the topless Omega now sitting on Jay’s lap. “You trust me, right?”
“I guess..” you shrug annoyedly, frowning at the scene of your crush squirting sunscreen into his palms to smear onto a very naked Omega. “Why can’t that be me?”
Rolling his eyes, Heeseung returns your focus back to him. “It will be, after I show you how to please an Alpha like Jay.”
“Show me?”
Heeseung nods, cocking an eyebrow as you look at him hesitantly. “How many guys have you kissed?”
“Three..”
He glares more, emitting a soft growl from his throat.
“Ok…one—but, it’s been awhile.”
“You think Jay wants a girl that doesn’t even know how to kiss when he has big and bouncy throwing herself at him?” Heeseung turns you back to watch as the Alpha in question lays down his moves, falling into the water only to press against the Omega threateningly, commencing a flirty back and forth game of splashing at each other.
“No..”
“Exactly, which is why I’m gonna help you.”
Turning back to face him, you nervously scratch your nape, eyeing the Alpha curiously. “You’d do that for me? Jake doesn’t have to know?”
Heeseung bites down on his lip to stop a hiss from escaping, in disbelief for a moment that you would actually fall for his plan. “No one has to know, it’ll be our secret.”
“Okay..” unsure what he still means you quickly scan around, noting your brother’s been heavily distracted by a pair of twin Omegas he won’t shut up about these days. “What do I need to do?”
Heeseung smiles, stepping backward toward the sliding doors leading inside of your house. “I’ll show you.”
He’s well familiar with your house, having spent most afternoons and vacations staying over since Jake has the best game set-up out of their crew. Bouncing his eyebrows at you mischievously he nudges into your side, directing you to move ahead toward your bedroom upstairs.
“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.
“I’m gonna teach you how to seduce Jay.”
“How?” You fret, swallowing the dry itch away from your throat as he leans in close enough to feel the fan of his next breath caress your Cupid’s bow.
“For starters, come kiss me.”
“Huh?!” You jump back, staring at him like he just grew five heads. Heeseung grunts, rolling his eyes.
“You want Jay to fuck you or what?” He asks almost boredly, shifting back to rest on his palms. “I’m trying to do you a favor, as your friend.”
“It’s..God, what the fuck.” Crossing your arms you huff, gnawing at your bottom lip as you mentally weigh out the pros and cons.
Heeseung has a point, he is your friend.. somewhat. Being the closests to Jake ever since you were kids, you almost thought of him as a second brother, but that’s weird now. Shaking that thought away, you continue to process the negative aspects of this predicament.
On one hand, he is pretty trustworthy.. he never did snitch on you about that one time he walked in on you kissing Sunoo the summer before your Freshman year. Heeseung’s always been a little nicer to you than the rest of your brothers friends, even sneaking food to your bedroom from the parties Jake said you weren’t allowed to attend.
It couldn’t hurt much just to try, right? Who would know what Jay wants more than one of his boys. They must share secrets amongst themselves and gossip worse than girls in those gym locker rooms after a game of basketball. Heeseung clears his throat as you dwindle into another minute of silence, tilting his head to the side as if to ask ‘well?’.
“Okay..”
He laughs, shaking his head side to side, tongue lapping his lips leaving behind a sheen of spit to entice you further. “I told you what to do.”
“Right.” Dry swallowing again, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. It’s only Heeseung, he wants to help you, not judge you for your lack of finesse and experience. “I’m nervous.” You huff, shoving pieces of loose hair behind your ears out of anxious habit.
“Hey.” he reaches to pinch your cheek, something he’s done since you were kids. “It’s just me pup.”
Heeseung smiles softly, sitting up straight to lean in closer to where your face stays half hidden with your chin tucked into your neck. “Give me a kiss.”
At this proximity you can count each tiny pore lining the slope of his nose, invisibly tracing the dips above his upper lip leading to a thin perfectly shaped pink pout. He waits patiently, mimicking your actions and taking the moment to absorb each of your delicate features up close despite his wolf urging him to lunge forward and devour your bee-stung chewed over lips.
Apprehensively you shift forward enough for your budding lips to brush together faintly, eyelashes fluttering shut rapidly before arching your neck further to press in and slot between the seam sealing him shut.
Heeseung’s lips feel soft initially, smooth and plumper than you’d expect from looking at them. Unmoving, he allows for you to work your mouth against his, cautiously rubbing between the ridges lining both of your fleshy pouts. It’s less awkward than you’d have assumed, the weight of nerves leaving your chest the more you lean in to capture his lips between yours with extra force, driven by your own need to be good, to impress and hear that your efforts weren’t futile.
“Hmm..” resting your forehead against his, you stare down at his lap, continuing to keep your gaze lowered as you calm to catch your breath. “Was that good?”
Heeseung’s eyes stay lowered as well, sucking at the sides of his tongue to discreetly lather his throat before speaking and risking the chance of his voice cracking while also hoping you’re somehow too naive to understand what that twitch under his zipper could mean.
“Not bad.” He notes, smoothly returning to lean back on his palms. “You’ll need to do much better for Jay though, it’s definitely giving— my only kiss came from a guy that shares his lip gloss with me now.”
Scoffing, you shove at his shoulder, the two of you falling into a playful laughter now that you feel more comfortable; as you should have expected, Heeseung would never judge you for being a late bloomer.
“Well, help me!” You groan, falling back on your bed. “That’s all I got!”
“It’s enough.” He muses, laying back on an elbow to hover above your face. “Like I said, not bad, but kissing is more than just mouth to mouth resuscitation. It’s about the light touches..” bending closer he traces up the planes of your stomach, digits tickling up to the path dipping between your chest. “The sounds and soft shared breaths, even the occasional bump of teeth when it’s too good to pull away. The desperation for a taste of more..”
Heeseung licks at his lips, following the accelerating rise and fall of your chest. “Close your eyes.” He stills, peering up at you until you nod and your eyes fall shut. “I want you to pretend I’m Jay.”
Mentally screaming at himself, he keeps up the act. “When you kiss me, think about all the times you’ve dreamt of his touch, his body pressed to yours, his skin rubbing against you..”
The furrow between your brows gives away your struggle to do as he says, knowing all too well that the Alpha touching you isn’t the one you’ve lusted after since your first round of puberty.
Heeseung knows it's a ridiculous suggestion but keeps at it, leaning in closer to breathe across the center of your throat, the tip of his nose bumping along your chin. “These are the things you’ll remember later when you’re all alone, when you can’t sleep, when your thoughts become consumed by desire.”
Rough pads of his fingers graze across the mounds of breast seeping from the top of your bathing suit, soft lips whispering their way up your jawline. “When Jay wakes up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, he’ll remember your supple skin, the dizzying scent of your perfume, the gasps of air you struggle for between his lips.”
As if on command, Heeseung traps your chin, locking your lips together before you can recuperate your mind from drifting away imagining each description.
Even the first press of his lips has your back arching up, reaching to grab onto anything as he glides against your easily parted mouth. It’s all bated breath, shared spit slicked tips of tongue, noses gently brushing together the more you lean into it.
Heeseung has to stop himself from crushing his weight flat on you, keeping the kiss tame for now. Time will come for more, as long as he can keep this up. Adjusting your position he tilts more to the side, capturing your mouth at a new angle, tongue swiping between your lips teasingly, releasing soft groany moans the more you ease into his movements and squeeze at the dip in his waist. One of your thighs shifts up to slot between his, pulling yourself in even more as if to invite him to taste every crevice inside of your mouth.
The jerk in his boxers has him gulping, breaking the kiss with a few pecks to calm your thirst. He pulls back breathing out a sigh against your now much more red lips, blood rushing to them pulsing with need. “Good?” Sitting back on his elbow, he licks over the remnants of your taste left behind, biting back a smile as you lay there with your eyes shut still feeling over your lips to retrace every motion.
“That was..” nodding you sigh dreamily, squishing your swollen bottom lip between two fingers. “I get what you mean now.”
“Of course you do, pup.” Heeseung gets up to open your closet, drawing you to sit up quickly in alarm and ask what he’s doing.
“The way you dress will never impress Jay.”
“I have to change the way I dress too?”
Heeseung hums, sorting through different frumpy garments hung up in your closet with a disappointed expression tugging his features down. “You want Jay to like you, right?”
“Shouldn’t he like me for me?” You frown, following his movement to organize your clothing the way you had it.
He laughs, sounding out an ‘uh huh!’ As he reaches the back corner of your closet. “If that was the case we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”
Turning back to you, he holds a dress up to your chest, picturing the much too short material barely covering your ass. “This will do, we’ll have to make a trip to the mall tomorrow though.”
“I haven’t worn this since middle school, probably doesn’t even fit me anymore, He—“
“Nu-uh-uh.” Heeseung interrupts, tapping your nose condescendingly. “Why am I helping you if you won’t even listen? Now put this on, trust me.”
Sighing, you shrug mumbling again that it won’t fit you before glaring at him. “Get out!”
The Alpha laughs, stepping out of your closet to raid your drawers. “Not a single pair of red or black panties.” His tongue clicks, picking out a pair of lacy baby blue underwear. “This will have to do.”
Heeseung settles back on your bed glancing around your room. He’s been in here a few times, often just to bother you, pretend he needed help with an assignment, make up excuses of needing to hide out from aggressive Omegas that didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
The truth is, he enjoyed your company, maybe too much. Not enough for Jake to ever become suspicious, Heeseung hadn’t considered you much more than a friend until recent years as you began to develop and break out of your shell more, easily falling into banter with him without flushing shyly. The innocent friendship you’d fallen into only made him more curious about you, that's how he noticed the way you’d constantly stare at Jay like some starved puppy.
He already knew Jay could give a fuck about you, using your presence as a punchline to make another joke. You could do better than Jay anyway, an Omega as sweet and angelic as you, too pure and lovely for some asshole Alpha like that to fuck up. Heeseung wouldn’t have that, not when he’s here determined to be the first to ruin you, Jake’s adorable little sister.
“I can’t wear this!” You huff, shoving open the closet door with your hip to conceal your figure behind your arms. “It’s way too tight.”
“Oh..” he blinks rapidly, sitting up straight, jaw failing to stay shut as he takes in your body hugged beautifully by the white cotton material. “It’s perfect, you look..”
“I look like a slut.”
Heeseung smiles, picking up the blue panties he chose for you. “Exactly, Jay’s type. Put these on too, we need to get back out there before your brother comes looking for me.”
“Did you touch my underwear?!?”
Heeseung twirls the thin material around his finger, tossing them at your chest. “I’ll head down first.” Without sparing you another look he steps out, quietly shutting your bedroom door with his back pressed against the nearest wall to let out the deep breath he’s been holding in, immediately reaching into his boxers to adjust his aching length.
Fucking hell.
Heading back down he strolls into the kitchen cooly, pretending to have just come from the bathroom. Jay sits across from him showing off how the Omega from earlier is already blowing up his phone with desperate text messages begging him to come over tonight.
He doesn’t deserve you, not one bit. Heeseung taps his fingers against his thigh, looking around at the crowd that’s dwindled down to only his close friends, distracted as he spots you emerge from the dark hallway and bounce your way into the kitchen.
Jake does a double take upon your greeting, shoulders stiffening up while you smile and wave and make your way to the fridge. “What the fuck.” He mutters under his breath, scraping his chair across the floor as he pushes away to drag you out of there.
“Hey Jay!” You approach, handing him a chilled bottle of water. “Thirsty?”
The Alpha stays concentrated on his phone, reaching out to grab the bottle from your hand. “Thanks, uhm..” eyes drift your way, snapping back to fully take in your appearance. “..uhh.”
Heeseung bites down grinding his teeth as Jake grabs you by the crook of your elbow, successfully tugging you out of the room before Jay can fully process what just happened. “Was that Jake’s sister?”
Sunghoon draws his eyebrows up and down, slapping the other Alphas bare bicep. “Looks like she’s really filled out, huh?”
Jay opens his mouth to agree, dropping shut upon Jake’s return sporting an annoyed face. “Sorry about that guys, anyway.” Continuing his conversation with Sunghoon about some upcoming basketball game, Heeseung notices Jay peering toward the hallway you disappeared into, clearing his throat before returning to browse through his phone.
“I gotta drop the kids off at the pool.” Heeseung stands up, smirking as his friends' disgusted grimaces. “If you know what I mean.”
“Sick dude, we aren’t a bunch of girls, you don’t have to announce it every time you gotta take a dump.”
Shrugging, he laughs and scratches his neck nervously as he steps out in search of your bedroom once again.
Heeseung discovers you smoothing your palms down the front of your dress with a dumb smile stretching your lips wide, biting back a scowl as he enters and shuts your door.
“Hee?”
“Yeah, there’s something I just remembered.”
“What is it?”
Jay’s surprised face flashes through his head, moving closer to cup your cheeks he squishes them in for your lips to pout out, mirroring the action by lodging his mouth against yours; tongue instantly gliding out to trace across the seam of your lips. The little shocked gasp you release allows him to dive in, tongue swirling past your teeth to lap against yours.
Heeseung kisses differently this time, taking full control of his strength over you by rolling along the roof of your mouth, saliva blending together the more he bends in forcing your neck to arch back. It’s still enough to have your eyes fluttering shut, moaning between the first suck around your tongue, his lips vacuuming around your muscle igniting a new tickle of heat through your chest, something unfamiliar yet addicting.
It’s messy, crashing your mouths together between lost air, spit dripping down your chins smearing together, his nose smashed into your cheek, and his palms easing down to rest at the sides of your neck adding a gentle squeeze. Heeseung can’t help but want to grip around your throat, watch your eyes roll up, pray for your fists to pound at his chest weakly the more you fight to breathe; but that will have to wait. Slow, baby steps..
He pecks softly, keeping your head held up by your weakened neck attempting to roll off your spine, hazy from the unexpected heated kiss leaving your mouth parted open chasing after more.
“Tomorrow, the mall, we’ll find you something to fit Jay’s standards more that your brother won’t throw a tantrum over.” He says quietly, thumb painting the drying spit on your chin. “Sound good?”
“Okay..” half coherently you nod, blinking up at the Alpha who continues to seem unfazed.
“Need you to do something..” Heeseung’s hands drag down, rubbing past your shoulders to your upper arm, ending at your wrists and lifting your knuckles up to brush against his lips. “Tonight, you need to touch yourself.”
The fog clouding your mind immediately dissipates, snapping to look at him fully. “What?!”
Heeseung chuckles, kissing between your digits. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Heeseung! Stop asking me that!” You hiss, smacking his hands off.
“Be honest with me, you watch porn?”
Another smack to his chest has him laughing, circling your wrists before you can land another hit. “Don’t act so scandalized, I need a general idea of your comfort level, besides, it can be really informative.”
“I..” you hesitate, internally groaning. “Not much, only a few times.”
Heeseung’s tongue clicks, swinging your hands together at your sides. “I figured as much, that's fine though, nothing to worry about. I’ll send you some links later.”
“Links to what?!”
“Correct me if I’m wrong but Jay’s an Alpha, right?” He asks sarcastically, tilting his head to glare at you.
“Yeah..”
“And you’re an Omega?”
“What’s your point?” You huff annoyed, taking a step back to sit on your bed.”
“This may come as a surprise to you but Alphas have this carnal raging sex drive, particularly whenever they even breathe in the vicinity of an Omega.” Raising a finger like some poindexter instructor, he continues while beginning to pace back and forth before you. “In this instance, Jay is most definitely an Alpha with major needs, having presented in middle school while the rest of us were still learning basic wolf anatomy. I told you, he’s like an Alpha on steroids, hormones go bonkers.”
“Why’s that matter..”
Heeseung chides, patting your head to patronize you further. “My sweet baby pup, it means we have a lot of work to do. You’re so lucky to have a friend like me who’s willing to help.”
Slapping his hand away you grumble. “Yeah yeah yeah… fine I’ll try doing that.”
“What was that?” You’ll try doing what exactly?” He halts, peering down at you with his hands on his hips.
“I’ll check out the links..”
“And?”
He stands expectantly, the corners of his lips turned up hiding a smile as you wring your hands and avoid his gaze. “Touch myself.”
“See pup,” he taps your nose, smiling when you don’t move away. “You’re learning so well already.”
“Let’s check out this store first, you dress really..” Heeseung waves around to mask his implication, directing you to follow him ahead into a clearly more modern attire store full of Omegas.
“Really what.” You grunt, tired and irritated from staying up late. Last night hadn’t quite gone as you would have planned. Heeseung indeed sent you a list of links, a few with descriptions such as:
‘Omega struggles to take a fat knot for the first time.’
‘Alpha in rut goes maniacal on a group of helpless Omegas.’
‘Omega squirts streams of slick in class, setting off her professor's rut.’
“Really, you know..” he continues to wave you off, sorting through a rack of clothes. “Cute.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing..” Heeseung says mindlessly, holding up different dresses and tops against your front. “Hmmm, we shouldn't steer too far from your standard look. Some skater dresses, more crop tops, deep V necks to show your figure off more..”
“I just don’t get what’s wrong with being cute..” you sigh, following the Alpha toward the dressing rooms. “Aren’t you Alphas supposed to go all weak in the knees and crazy possessive for a cute Omega?”
Heeseung smiles to himself. If only you understood how right you are.
“Jay’s different.” He reiterates, shoving the pile of clothes in his hold against your chest. “I’ll wait out here.” Nodding to a seat intended for boyfriends and husbands, he sits, foot tapping as if to tell you to hurry up.
Jay’s different.
Heeseung keeps mentioning that, and the more you think it over, the more you wonder what the hell you like about Jay in the first place.
He’s cute, perfect smile, manly in that dreamy romance novel type of way, really confident, nice voice.. and God such a great ass..
But is any of that really enough of a reason to put yourself through all of this? What can you say you actually know about the Alpha beyond physical attraction..
“What’s taking so long?” Heesung calls, disrupting your inner monologue; his voice much too close followed by a knock on the dressing room door. “Come on, let's see it.”
“Uhm, one second.”
Rolling his eyes he unlatches the door to enter, shushing the dramatic gasp you let out as he shuts it behind him. “Of course, you forgot to lock it.” He winks, eyeing the dress half pulled up your body. “What have you been doing this whole time?”
“I—“
“Hmm, I don’t like this color on you.” He sorts through the outfits hung up, picking out the shortest of the bunch with the lowest cut on top. “This was my favorite, try this on.”
“Okay, can you get out?”
“I’ll just sit here.” He nods to a small corner bench. “Nothing I haven’t seen before anyway.” Heeseung claps for you to hurry up and change, crossing his arms as you begin to shimmy out of the dress you’d been trying on. “You never texted me back last night.”
“Was I supposed to?” Glancing from corner to corner you wish for something to magically appear from thin air to cover you. Not that Heeseung’s wrong, he’s seen you in underwear by now, bathing suits, even in the morning half-asleep stumbling for the bathroom in nothing but a baggy t-shirt turned inside out.
“Depends, did you do what I asked?” He eyes you quizzically, assessing any avoidance that would indicate lying.
“Yes..”
He nods, leaning back on the dressing room wall to stretch out his legs, spread out arrogantly. “Did you get off?”
“Hee, isn’t this kind of..”
“No.” He stops you, getting up to circle around you and zip up your dress. “It’s not weird, it’s what you want my help with, right?”
“Right.”
“Exactly.” Adjusting the dress straps, he peers over your shoulder into the mirror, nodding and humming. “This is the one. Now tell me, did you touch yourself?”
“Yes..”
Heeseung presses to your back, whispering by your ear. “Did you cum?”
Fiddling with your fingers nervously and shaking your head you stare down frustrated. “It’s hard for me when I do it on my own.. I think I need more..”
“Should have texted me.” His tongue clicks annoyed, caressing down your sides to squeeze your hips. “How many did you watch?”
“A few..”
Heeseung grins, smoothing hair away from your shoulder to place a searing kiss on your exposed skin. “Did you like what you saw?”
“It was a lot.” You admit, shivering as he pulls you a step close to him, back pressed to the Alphas chest.
“Is that what I asked?”
“I liked it..” falling into a whisper, you nod, dropping your face down to hide the shame written across your eyes. “I couldn’t finish though.”
“My poor puppy,” Heeseung cooes, turning your body around to push your chest against a wall, unzipping you open and showing off the smooth definition down your back. “Does it hurt?”
It is exactly what you think it is, pulsating and clenching between your thighs as you silently nod and turn your neck to watch him over your shoulder. He pouts in return, bending in to kiss from your shoulder blade to the top of your spine and blaze a trail of pouty flesh down to meet where your waist curves in, ending at a concave of ticklish skin he kisses at noisily. “I’ll make it feel better.”
Heeseung thought he caught a whiff of your arousal as he sat and watched you demurely wiggle into the dress, avidly avoiding his lustful gaze that burned into your side nonetheless. Gathering the bottom layers together up over the round perk of your ass he bites down on his tongue, quietly sucking back drool from the sides as he cups your hips and squeezes again. “Will you let me?”
“Of course..”
Heeseung has to hide his smirk behind your shoulder, palm sliding inside of your underwear from the back running down the crease of your ass. “Tell me about what you watched..” he whispers, fingers inching lower grazing between your thighs, the first touch against your hole setting shivers off up your spine. “Which one was your favorite..”
“The..” words choke in your throat, burning all over your face as he taps your opening, expelling an embarrassingly loud sound of wetness with each gentle hit. “Uhm..”
“Speak up pup,” pressing close, he licks up the shell of your ear, voice low and raspy. “Not too loud, don’t wanna get kicked out.”
“The uhh.. Alpha rut..” you’re already gasping for your next breath. Heeseung sucks saliva around his tongue, panting against your ear, pelvis pressing to your side creating friction on his growing groin. He knows exactly which one you’re referring to, his favorite really.
“What’d you like about that one?” Behind you his eyebrows wrinkle together, dipping deeper into your underwear to flick your clit. Biting back a curse from how drenched his palm becomes swiping through your folds, bundle of nerves already swollen with need.
“The..” sighing, you relax into his touch, eyes rolling up and resting your chest against the dressing room wall. “He was so.. desperate.”
Heeseung grunts, nodding into the column of your throat, pinching two fingers around your clit creating a meticulous pointed stimulation that has your toes digging up off the floor. “He was ruthless, rough as fuck. You like that? Liked watching all those horny Omegas get fucked and bred, ripped to shreds, dripping loads of cum?”
The Alpha can feel your hole pulsate against his wrist, digits swiveling in circles jolting each nerve down your thighs, his low tone growing more nasty and heated the more you drip past his hand and ruin your underwear. “Wanted that to be you? Wanna get treated like a dirty cum dump, fucked over and over again until your legs can’t even shut?”
“Hee..” quickly lifting your hand up, you have to bite down to stop yourself from shouting, whimpering behind teeth digging in. The thought of being manhandled and strewn around like a ragdoll just to satisfy your Alpha makes your thighs quiver, nodding manically and failing to suppress a broken moan as he ruts into your hip; sweeping back smearing wet arousal between your folds and rim around your entrance.
Heeseung can feel the wet top of his length bulge painfully against his boxers, leaking precum out with each jerk of his hips. “Yeah? I could—“ he pauses, slapped across the cheek by reality, remembering why you’re here to begin with. “Jay… Jay would use you like nothing but a fleshlight, pound your pussy until it breaks.” Shutting his eyes, he grimaces, thankful you can’t see him. “Claim all your holes until you’re stuffed so full baby..”
Breath staggers as his chest caves, dipping the pads of his fingers teasingly into your tight heat. “That’s what you want? Tell me. Tell me you want it.”
“Hee..” the heavy look you give him makes his knees buckle, thrusting forward to rock faster into your side. He pushes in first knuckle deep, teeth grinding together to not break down and let out a cry. You’re so fucking tight, he can’t even imagine how you’d take his cock, sucking around two digits hard enough to fill his fingers full of blood. Thirsty enough to eat him alive, hot velvety walls caged around him like you may never let go. “Want it, want that so bad.”
I want you.
Heeseung swallows down a whine, leaning forward to steal a kiss, thrusting in and out of your cunt without fully entering. The thought of completely stuffing his fingers inside of you too much, can’t even process how you’d crumble against him, how you’d gaze up at him half-lidded and out of breath; maybe you’d beg for more, maybe reach down and grip his wrist. “Fuck.”
Heeseung moves down without another thought, dragging your panties down to your knees as he falls to his. “Don’t be loud..” he voices huskily, gripping the meat on the backs of your thighs, dryly gulping his own need to growl down.
Clouds float around his mind, masking everything for a moment as he cups under your buttcheeks and tests the weight; bouncing and squishing as his head clears every voice other than the one of his Alpha shouting to eat you up, bite every centimeter of smooth meaty flesh, lick until you’re dripping down to your ankles.
Heeseung sways for a second, slowly tilting up to find you watching him with glazed over eyes, big and glimmering, staring down at him in anticipation. He wants to say so much, wants to tell you how pretty you look, how good he knows you’ll taste, how he’ll eat you out endlessly until his jaw breaks at the hinges. Instead he leans in, never breaking eye-contact as he presses a kiss the triangular divet at the top of your perky globes. He can see the strain in your neck turning to look at him more, the angle anchoring your spine into a lewd dip that shoves your ass back into his face even more, nose burying between the split making his eyes flutter shut and deeply inhale.
Fuck you smell so fucking good. Heeseung can’t stop his hips from jumping up, shaking the weight of your butt against his face with fingers buried into your flesh roughly, grip digging deep enough to leave indentations and light claw marks behind. The tip of his nose drags down slowly, taking time to savor the scent hidden between your cheeks, completely neglecting the way you whimper above embarrassed and whining. A tug at his scalp has him rumbling, nose pressing to your rim the harder you pull at the hair on his crown.
Heeseung licks at the backs of his teeth, too immersed in your scent to even realize how much his dick has started to throb, it actually hurts how badly he wants to feel every inch of you. He will, he thinks, lick up from each toe to the backs of your knees, leaving traces of himself all over before Jay can ever touch you.
With a deep breath he spreads you apart, intoxicated by the proximity of your tight hole clenching around nothing, painted with slick that’s poured down to your knees. Ridiculous how wet you are, all for him, no one else. “So wet, so pretty and drenched..” he mutters drunkenly, dipping in to lick a fat stripe from your clit to your entrance. Gravelly moans slip from his lips, vibrating ripples up your back and weakening your strength; dropping your bottom to press against his forehead as he repeats the motion hungrily.
Heeseung’s lips pucker out, slurping messily at your hole, making a bigger mess of slick finding new pathways to trail down his chin, past his arched neck and paint driblets of arousal down his throat. Every move is uncoordinated to start, eagerly lapping around the swell of your ringed muscle, more desperate to taste every part of you than breathe right now. Each swipe of his tongue has you panting heavier, head knocking into the wall and teeth finding purchase in your palm to mute your screams.
“Heeseung…” you say breathlessly, oblivious to the public space you’re in, the pleasure spiraling up your stomach more important than anything. “I’m..”
Catching you off guard, his tongue dips in, fully shoving the fat width in past your hole abruptly with a low groan. Immediately swallowed by your wet heat, the clench around his tongue strong enough to rip it right out of his mouth, and he’d let you. Heeseung thinks he’d do anything for you, just to die between your thighs choking on your decadent slick.
“Close, so c-close,” you whimper, gyrating down against his parted lips, tongue maneuvering between your walls deliciously.
Struggling to breathe, his digits dig into your hips, nails scraping into your skin and tugging you down onto his tongue faster. Heeseung groans, tongue-fucking in against your writhing figure, the action draws heat up your chest pushing you over the precipice of pleasure.
His groin jumps, sadly humping up into the air wishing to withdraw himself and fill you to the brim without a care of where you are, or who your older brother is. In time, in time..
“Hee!” You squeak, sounding overwhelmed and sensitive, music to his ears. Slipping free, he takes a deep breath, quickly returning to clean up your release of slick and plant a kiss on your swollen clit, jolting at the firm press of his lips.
Heeseung has to calm himself, reaching inside of his boxer’s to adjust his pitiful cock, needing to move himself fast before suffering from humiliation of cumming in his pants. Kissing up and down your bottom, he sucks on the perk of your ass, gently tugging your underwear back up into place and lifting himself off his rug-burned knees.
“Made a mess.” He smiles, wondering how he can even feel the littlest bit of shy while still dawning your slick on his chin. “Was it good?” He scratches the back of his nape, assisting you to remove the dress half clinging to your body.
“Yeah..” you mumble dreamily, eyes still shut as you bite away a toothy smile.
Turning your limbless figure around, he cups your jaw, tilting your head up to gaze at him. “I’ll eat your ass next time too.” Heeseung grins, feeling more confident when your eyes shoot open in shock. “Get dressed, I’ll wait for you outside.”
Lightly pecking your bitten lips, he exits with the dress to purchase, ignoring the few employees restocking racks and shelves that eye him with disgust; overhearing one mumble that the least he can do is wipe the slick off his neck.
He’d rather soak in your scent for the rest of the day, especially when he’s alone later replaying your sweet moans and fucking into his palm.
Heeseung swipes his card mindlessly, eyeing the dressing room door you step out of with your head ducked, heart rate speeding up when you shyly glance at him and scurry closer to hide by his side. Pulling you under his arm, he laughs at the way you can’t even maintain eye contact with him now, swatting his chest as he leads you out of the store. “Not funny! Everyone was judging us.”
Heeseung hates the way his chest tightens, itching to kiss away the faux-pout on your lips and embarrass you further; more than that he hates how badly he wants to get used to this.
“What if he doesn’t notice me?”
“He could just ignore me again, this is so stupid.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking Hee, this isn’t me. I feel like an idiot.”
“I can’t wear this, Jake’s gonna kill me.”
“I don’t know, be honest with me, can I pull this off?”
“You look really pretty.” Heeseung interrupts your anxious ranting, forcing a smile and motioning to the dress he picked out for you the other day. He has to swallow back a sigh as you spin around with a huge smile squealing and asking if Jay would notice you tonight. Instead of responding he stands up, smoothing his palms down the front of his thighs. “I should head down before your brother starts wondering why I’m taking so long.”
“Okay, before you go, should I add anything else?” Bouncing up to him, you continue modeling swaying side to side. “Should I add more perfume?” Tilting your head, you elongate your neck, baring the entirety of your throat leading into the dip of your shoulder, collar even more pronounced and defined by the strap held up by your perfectly sculpted frame.
Heeseung’s tongue curls inside of his mouth, the tip running across the fronts of his teeth to withhold the itch passing through his canines. “You smell fine.”
“Fine?!” You scoff, grabbing him by his waist to tug him in closer. “You didn’t even sniff!”
The Alpha has to hold his breath, nose hovering above your throat much closer, the tip only a mere inch away. “You smell..”
Heeseung inhales slowly, his nose just barely caressing your scent gland but it’s enough to make his brain short circuit. Each nerve in his system feels like a shock of electrocution the more you invade his senses; the power behind each soft note carrying hints of your arousal that he can’t scrub off of his tongue. Not that he’s even tried to.
“Hmm?” You question, becoming light-headed the longer he grazes your throat. Heeseung’s teeth grind, grabbing your shoulders to force himself back.
“Smells…yeah..” He blinks stiffly, scratching at his nape in an aggressive manner before rushing for your bedroom door. “Shit, think I heard Jake calling for me.” Without another glance he rushes out immediately scurrying down the stairs to find a bathroom far away from you.
Deep choked breaths fill up the small guest bathroom, flush to the door as he attempts to calm and ignore the pained swell between his thighs. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
Heeseung paces back and forth for a few minutes, rustling through thick chunks of his styled back hair making a few pieces hang over his forehead in a somehow even more attractive manner. He doesn’t want to consider realistic thoughts right now, especially not pertaining to you or how he somehow fucked himself over with this plan.
A drink will solve this turmoil, a few drinks, maybe five or ten, who’s counting? That’s how he ends up in the kitchen for the next hour sulking with a half-empty bottle of vodka. Not even the good kind, he grimaces reading over the blurry sticker he’s been scratching at. Why can’t Jake just keep stealing from his parents, they never noticed anyway.
“Hee! Come on loser!” Speaking of the devil, Jake rushes toward the kitchen, beet red down his neck, flushed and glazed over from throwing back 1/4th of a keg. Dragging him out of the kitchen by his arm, his best friend wiggles his eyebrows devilishly. “These girls wanna play strip ping-pong.”
“Ahh, I’m not up to it.” Heeseung slurs, stumbling into the garage only to find you leaned back on a wall with Jay leaning over your figure, the two of you sharing suspiciously flirty smiles between each other. The red cups in your hands both there more for show as you giggle and continuously smack his chest, dragging your palm to his bicep ending with a squeeze while biting your lip.
Heeseung thinks he might throw up, even going as far as covering his mouth and gagging, earning a concerned and disgusted look from Jake. “Bro, what the fuck.”
“I gotta..” he motions back inside, fast to get away before the room starts spinning but not before meeting your eyes as he reaches the door. The disappointed look in his gaze is hard to miss, distracting you from whatever Jay’s been saying, something about basketball.. baseball… some type of ball.
“I have to use the little girls room, too much to drink.” You grin, making the Alpha snort.
“Light weight, you’ve barely touched your beer.” Rolling his eyes playfully he leans in sweeping your hair behind your ear. “Don’t take too long.”
“Of course, Alpha.” Jay barks out a laugh, stepping aside for you. He’s right though, you’ve barely touched your drink, and you don’t actually need to use the restroom.
Heeseung’s nowhere to be found as you head back inside and run from room to room in search of the Alpha. He couldn’t have left already? He’d been missing most of the night, at least since you’d last seen him in your bedroom. Deciding to check for his car leads you to the Alpha sat alone on your front porch half-asleep leaned against the stair bannister, his head lifting up upon catching a whiff of your scent.
“What are you doing out here?”
Heeseung blinks slowly, sleepy eyes taking their time to look over your confused face, untouched make-up indicating you haven’t been up to anything that would mess it up, and the dress he chose that best complimented your skin tone, hugging your curves in all the right places. Impeccable, of course.
“Hee?” You frown, stepping down to sit next to him. “You okay?”
He wants to say no, licking his lips instead, leaving them shiny with a layer of spit. “Needed fresh air.”
“Don’t tell me you’re fucked up already.” You laugh, nudging against his side. The Alpha can feel a shiver build up his spine, left scolded where your skin pressed to his bare forearm, the light contact enough to crawl an excited itch up his chest.
“Word of advice, stay away from cheap vodka.” He groans, head returning to rest against the stair banister.
“No wonder I couldn’t find you.” You say, looping under his arm to wrap yourself in the Alphas familiar warmth. “I needed your help back there.”
Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, relishing in your soft fresh scent drifting around him, surely sticking to his shirt after this. “Why?”
“I think Jay was flirting with me!” You squeal in a whispered tone, bending in closer, setting your chin on his shoulder. “He poured my drink for me.. and said I look really good.”
Ah, there it is, that annoying pang in his chest that won’t seem to stop rearing its ugly head with every mention of Jay now. When the fuck did that decide to happen.
Heeseung forces a lazy smile and nods. “That’s good pup.. you should get back in there.”
“Ah, well,” sighing, you smile shyly. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about.” Heeseung sits up without shifting you off, pressing in against your side more.
“It’s just, you’re right, Jay’s..” you hum, staring up at the star littered sky. “..different.”
“I think he likes you..” Heeseung sighs, biting on the tip of tongue to not sound too disappointed.
“What?? Why do you think that?”
He shrugs, frowning in thought, the image of Jay smirking and leaning into you to whisper not leaving his mind. Shaking away the thought he reaches for the now flat cup of beer by his feet. “‘Cause you’re pretty.”
You’re really really pretty.. and funny, nice, easy to talk to, even your naive nature comes across charming more than anything..
Heeseung eyes you dejectedly, nodding toward the front door. “Stay confident in yourself, you have nothing to worry about.”
“There is one thing..” you mutter, nervously glancing back at him. “It’s just.. I’ve never..”
Reaching for his thigh you stroke up between the space, palm inching closer to his groin. Heeseung perks up, swallowing a big gulp before raising his eyebrows at you. “You..never, what?”
“We haven’t..” trailing off you reach higher, palm smoothing down his crotch to squeeze him. Heeseung chokes on his spit, coughing and sitting up straight in surprise.
“Right now?!” Clearing his throat he quickly looks back and forth from the heel of your palm pressing into his rapidly growing member to the subtle smile on your lips. “We can’t.. not here!”
“Of course we can.” With a wink you move to sit on your knees between his thighs, pushing them further apart, hands heating up as they glide along the inner expanse. “No one’s coming out here.”
“My car!” Heeseung nearly jumps away from your touch, scrambling back up another stair to get away from your overly eager hands. “Let’s go to my car.” He moves to stand up fast, grabbing you by your elbow to drag you over to where he parked, mostly stumbling as he realizes how drunk he really is.
This is a bad idea.
Heeseung halts, patting for his key, eyeing you warily. “You sure about this?”
“Alpha, it’s as if you don’t wanna show me how to suck dick.” You leer, crossing your arms expectantly. He immediately splutters, hands raising defensively.
“I absolutely want to show you.” He laughs nervously, cringing to himself as he turns away to open the backdoor for you. “I don’t have any uhm..”
“Condom?”
“Yeah..”
“Do we need one?”
Heeseung can feel a sob rise up his throat as you blink at him innocently after asking that, shrugging and climbing into his car. The idea of your wet tongue dragging along the underside of his bare cock has his heart thumping violently, a cold drip of sweat rolling down his spine. He stutters, throat cracking- “Should be fine.”
Don’t be a fucking idiot.
Following in after you, he has to catch his breath, easing into the backseat next to you as he reconsiders going through with this; but you suggested it in the first place..
“Is there something I should do first?” You interrupt, returning to his side and running a hand up his thigh. “Anything you like that I should focus on?”
Heeseung swallows down a whimper, eyelashes batting up at you with a wide-eyed sparkly gaze.
Anything you like. He doesn’t want to remind himself that this isn’t for anyone else, you didn’t say specify that anyway..
“Don’t use your teeth,” Heeseung’s nose meets yours, breathing over your lips. “I’m not hard yet.” Crashing into your lips he’s quick to build up a rhythm, pushing in past your mouth and finding your tongue, the taste of alcohol left behind mixing with your saliva. The Alpha grips your hand working you higher up between his thighs, pressing your palm atop the bulge that’s begun to form. “Get me hard and suck my dick.” He rasps into your mouth, urgently rushing back to deepen the kiss.
“How should I do it, Alpha?” You say it again, hollowing the center of his chest with your flirty tone. Heeseung feels dizzy from the alcohol light-headed off your lascivious scent, crashing under waves of humid air filling his car up quickly. “On my knees?”
Fuck.
Hesseung nods rabidly, stretching open his thighs to fix enough space for you to slip down to the backseat floor and feel comfortable. The shift happens seamlessly, sliding down to your knees with ease as if you belong there; judging by the mischievous glint in your gaze he has to believe that maybe you do. So pretty on your knees, teasing slow touches up his thighs and squeezing around the nervous jumps of muscle on the way to his crotch.
“I don’t know how good I am.. I only tried this once before and it was...” You whisper trailing off embarrassed , clearly apprehensive with your next step. Heeseung hums to assure you, half-distracted by the thought of you wrapping your lips around anyone elses cock. He hates it, hates that you’ve ever given yourself to anyone else, undeserving… all of them, every single one. No one deserved to see you this way, so wanton and elated to perform such an indecent act.
“I’ll walk you through it.” He reassures, reaching to pet your hair softly, silky tendrils slipping between his digits as he scratches through your scalp and pushes them away from your face. “Take it out.”
Breath lodges in his throat when you move fast to unzip his pants, hand tickling his happy trail as it sneaks below too excitedly to grip his size; the other working to tug his bottoms down with assistance from his hips lifting up. “Stroke.. and squeeze around the tip..”
Heeseung tries to pretend he doesn’t hear your breath catch in your throat, doesn’t see your eyes enlarge and jaw fall open, doesn’t notice the way your thighs squirm together as you draw his length out completely.
He really wishes he hadn’t seen your lips stretch into a mirthful smile, especially wishing his cock hadn’t twitched so violently as you sigh and trace up his size. “You’re so big, Alpha. Can barely fit my hand around you..”
A cracked whimper echoes when you swipe your thumb across his precum coated slit, mindlessly painting the wet drip around the tip. He wants to watch you struggle to swallow around him, wants to smack the bulge in your throat while you gaze up at him with tear stricken eyes. Make your mouth belong to him, only him.
“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” Heeseung sounds desperate already, hissing between his grinding teeth when you do as he says and blink up at him fast to clear some of the moisture blurring your sight. One hand stays tangled in your crown as his other trails down to your jaw, cupping and digging his digits in until your tongue lolls free. “Yeah.. you look so fucking pretty like this.”
The sound of his meaty length claps against the center of your tongue, growling in his chest as drool pools around his throbbing size. It takes all of his willpower to not fuck straight into your throat until you gag and scratch down his thighs, his Alpha screaming and snapping teeth at him to wreck your slutty mouth; wishing to knot and keep your luscious lips stuck around him.
“Start sucking pup, nice and slow okay? Don’t rush yourself. Wrap your lips around the tip for me.” Heeseung instructs you to grip around the base of his length, not too firmly, slowly dipping past your mouth gathering around taking him in just past the slit. The visual of your lips circling him all plump and glossy obscene enough to make his heart pound faster. Reaching lower into your hair, he cups the back of your head gently; maneuvering you easily at his will and gradually disappearing inch by inch until you cough around him with a heave emitting spit around the corners of your lips.
“That’s a good puppy,” he grunts, forcing a smile to not break down and out right cry. Half of his length coated in immense wet warmth, your tongue rolling against the bottom, lips suctioning where he holds you steady. “Think you can take it all for me?”
Popping your lips off you stroke the skin blanketing his length, pulling it up and down, watching the tip prod out gleaming in the dark backseat of his car. “…s’really big..” you slur, more from the river that's flooded your mouth.
“Jay’s bigger.” Heeseung lies, pursing his lips to not laugh. “It’ll be good practice, gag reflex is important.”
Rolling your eyes you examine how your fingers can’t even span the base, just barely meeting as your stroke up to the tip.
“Like this pup,” wrapping around your grip, Heeseung tightens his fist around yours, applying pressure down to really squeeze his rod. “Don’t be scared, go slow to get your throat used to it. Sound good?”
The Alpha keeps helping you stroke him from base to tip, the head vanishing behind your conjoined hands. “You’re doing good, open up your mouth again for me baby.”
He doesn’t have to ask again, dropping your jaw open without resistance once again, more determined now to try to take as much as you can. Afterall.. you want to learn.
Humming, he lolls the tip across your upper lip, coating your Cupid’s bow with a thick layer of precum. “Keep your pretty eyes on me..”
Blinking up you nod, tongue dragged down on your lower lip by the weight of his size sitting heavily. “Try to keep them open, want you to look at me while I fuck your throat. You’re doing so good already.”
Heeseung feels a rumble erupt in his chest, overwhelmed by how compliant you are for him, only making it harder to not glide himself in at his own pace. “Wrap your lips around my cock and relax your throat, I’ll help you ease it in.”
He doesn’t mention that part about your gagging, lurching and coughing around the thick size stretching your jaw wider the closer you reach the groomed patch of hair atop his base. The gurgled sound of spit and trickles spurting out of your mouth only excite him all the more, cock pulsing as you inadvertently suck around him. Determined to swallow every inch you sink down more, collecting spit down your chin and having to stop when the head tickles the back of your throat.
“Fuck.” Heeseung groans throatily, just watching you attempt to suck him balls deep makes him ache, pulling you off quickly before he explodes down your throat. “Good…s’good, you’re doing so good.”
“Why’d you make me stop?” You whine, lips debauched and raw at the corners from the stretch. It almost feels wrong to see you like this, lips swollen and puffy, chin and chest covered in your own spit.
“You’re too good,” he chuckles, chin dropping to his chest to hide the high blush burning his cheeks. “A natural deep throater.”
Heeseung doesn’t have to push your head back down, quickly moving to latch your lips around the head you suck down faster, shocking him as you gag and have to squeeze your eyes shut to reach the base. Swallowing and choking around the full length lodged deep in your throat tickling past your tonsils.
“Oh fuck!” Heeseung jolts, hips thrusting up when your lips press firmly against his pubic hair, forcing your eyes to open up as tears rain down your cheeks. He can’t control himself anymore, palming the back of your head and grinding forward. “Fuck yeah, oh you’re so fucking good.”
Heeseung doesn’t know what it is, your throat constricting around him, the pitiful sounds gasping for air between spit-ridden coughs, the disgusting slurp up and down his length, or your pretty wet eyes opened wide like a perfect fuck doll, his little toy. It’s everything, more than he could have anticipated. Wrenching you away he grips around the base of his cock, smacking the tip down on your parted lips inhaling deep breaths and coughing to clear your lungs.
“Open wide, wanna see you swallow it.” His length slaps your cheek further prodding you to listen, snapping your eyes shut as the wet heavy weight splashes against your face; tongue hung out ready, needing to please and do good.
“You like this?” Heeseung gasps a little, chest trembling from the coil in his gut tightening up, constantly pinching roughly around the base of his cock to stave off the orgasm threatening to spill out any minute now. He asks more so wanting to know if you like this as much as he does, judging by the way one of your hands has disappeared between your thighs he can only assume.
“Uh-huh,” without even closing your mouth you answer in a low drawn out tone, dragging the muscle under the girth, teasing the tip with a swirl up the slit. He doesn’t have to control you anymore, watching in awe as you suck around the bulbous end of his length, gazing up beneath half-lidded eyes while you smooth down with more ease.
“Just like that..” fingers thread their way back into your hair, pressing you lower until an awful sound emits from the back of your throat. Spitting out a string of curses above as he groans and makes you gag around him again, thrusting up to clog your lungs and hear more of your gargled chokes. “Such a good Omega, fuck—“
It’s when he feels your nails scratch down his thighs that he jerks up, pressing your nose deep into his pubic bone fully bottoming out. Breath passes through his nose, mouth hung open letting out a languid pitchy moan. “I’m—I’m gonna—oh fuck!”
Thrusts hit faster, jerking into your mouth sloppily as he cums, keeping you held firmly in place to fill up your throat. It’s too much though, hissing between gritted teeth and setting you free, early enough to catch the tail end of his arousal. The end of it pours down your chin, leaving a streak of creamy white behind on your bottom lip as he falls back drawing out a loud gasp for air.
“Fuck. What the fuck.” His head spins, having to look away from you, fearful he’ll cum again abruptly like some horny teenager. Repeating whatthefuck over and over again as he tries to come back down, not even noticing when you push up on his thighs to sit back next to him.
“Does that mean I did good?”
Snapping to look at you, he blinks dumbfounded, sure that you’ll be the death of him. How could you even ask that?
He doesn’t hold back, circling your throat and leaning in, licking your chin clean of the remnants of his release. He lets you chase his lips for a second, struggling to resist devouring your mouth and laying you out in his backseat, but you deserve better than that. You’re no easy backseat fuck, proving you’re far beyond more than that time and time again. He needs to clearly see you spread out on your back, lost in your desire and begging to be fucked.
“We should head back inside, Jay’s probably wondering where you disappeared off to..”
Heeseung’s face drops, forcing his fingers to stay locked together on his lap and not fidget. Needing to distract himself before he says something stupid, maybe not that stupid but something that would ruin the night. Maybe something about how no one’s ever sucked his cock that good before, something about having to bite his fist when you squeezed your eyes shut to not scream out that he thinks he might love you. Nothing like that..
“Oh yeah.” You sigh, brushing through your hair to at least appear somewhat presentable. “I’m kind of hungry now, honestly.” You laugh, dropping your chin to his shoulder. “Think Jay can wait until I eat some of my favorite ramen?”
Heeseung snorts, sleek gaze watching you from the corner of his eye. “You know I make it the best.”
“Exactly.” Pinching his waist, you tickle the way to his stomach, poking at his navel. “It’s the least you can do for me after swallowing what could have been your future one night stand mistakes.”
“I’m not that dumb..” He jokes, swatting your hands away to tickle you back. “My pull-out never fails me.” Heeseung’s stomach rumbles, most likely from the alcohol tearing through his intestines. “I guesssss I could whip you up a little something for being such a hard working pup.”
Hesitation hides behind your smile, entangling your fingers between his. “You’re in no state to drive right now, let's eat and then we can hide out in my room, watch a movie or whatever you wanna do..”
Heeseung thinks that sounds nice, more than nice actually. Hoping it’s the haze of alcohol still lingering in his system that has him imagining cuddling up in your bed instead of plowing you into another existence.
“You still like it light on the spice right?” He grins, sliding to the side to open the door for you; fast to skim the area and make sure no one’s around for the incriminating visual of you exiting his car, adjusting the hem of your dress that floated up above your underwear.
Throwing an arm around your shoulder with the excuse of inebriation, he slumps into your hold, maintaining enough of his weight to not crush you. The slap you land on his stomach stings but feels good, feels right, followed by your amused giggles.
He thinks he could get used to this. He wants to get used to this. He needs to get used to this.
Over a pot of boiling water and a deep wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, he wonders when he derived from the original plot; and as he watches you slurp up your noodles, making a mess of broth on your chin and whine about burning your tongue, his chest tightens and he wonders when he started to fuck up.
Heeseung thinks he’s going crazy, if not from his uncontrollable emotions than at least from the newly formed callouses lining his palm. He can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop himself from glaring at Jay when they meet up to game, can’t bring himself to apologize for throwing the ball too hard and accidentally missing his shot in favor of aiming for his friend's head.
It’s not Jay’s fault. It’s not even your fault. It’s not one's fault but his own; because even now as he wanders down the hall toward your bedroom he knows he needs to stop. Pausing, he smacks his cheeks and turns around to actually use the bathroom like he’d announced before excusing himself from his group of friends, he stops again and knocks his forehead against the wall nearly knocking down a picture of you and Jake as children.
He sighs, chest tight again, reaching to brush over your big smile. The same smile that first caught his attention and made him wonder how he could be the one to make you smile.
Heeseung never really cared if you presented as an Omega or not, writing off the idea of ever having a chance with his best friend's little sister. Jake would never allow it, warning them all after your first heat to stay away from you.
He tried to, he really did, he’d do anything for Jake, but staying away from you wasn’t an option.
“Hee? Is that you?”
Heeseung startles, jumping to turn around and find you by your bedroom door looking half-asleep despite it being well into the afternoon. “When did you get here?”
Gaping open and shut like a fish out of water he swallows, moving closer without a second thought to cup your cheeks and smother you with a kiss. Your instant reception alleviates his nerves, melting deeper into your parted lips to taste your tongue, sucking the plump flesh of your surprised pout between brushes of teeth.
Heeseung can’t explain what's come over him, more than desperate to taste you and thoroughly scent you. He blinks slowly, eyes falling shut as he finds solitude in your neck, licking up the vein decorating your scent gland.
“Hee..” you whisper groggily, tone heated and husky already, gripping his waist to press you flush together. “We shouldn’t, someone could find us.”
Let them find us.
He wants to break down, wants to snap and leave more than spit behind on your throat, teeth aching to bury deep in your tender flesh. Mark you up too good, good enough for Jay to never mention you again.
The familiar mouth watering scent of your slick tickles his nose, eyes shooting open deep red behind dark brown irises.
“Hee.. Alpha..” you pant, squirming against your bedroom door frame. Shushing you, Heeseung litters light kisses down your nose and plump lips, layering more down your chin and center of your throat.
“Don’t worry.” He mumbles, overcome with the need to taste every inch of your flesh, hauling your oversized t-shirt up to easily shift between your legs and rub your groins together. “They’re all playing, no one will find us.”
“Yeah, but I don’t feel so good..”
Heeseung immediately stands up straight to cup your face and scan your disorientated expression. “Wait, what’s wrong? What are you feeling?”
“A little nauseous..” you frown, rubbing your stomach. “Must have been something I ate.”
“Want me to get you anything? I can run to the store and pick you up some soup?” Heeseung doesn’t realize how panicked he sounds until you smile weakly and snort, his thumbs stroking your cheeks back and forth coming to a halt. “Or.. medicine, a hot pack?”
“You’re cute Hee,” you sigh dreamily, leaning back on the door frame, heavy eyelids falling shut. “I think I need to rest more, feel more tired than usual.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Heeseung tucks his lower lip in, teeth digging into the chapped skin. “Let’s get you back to bed then.”
“Yeah.. sorry..” you meekly apologize, not budging even when he tries to step inside of your bedroom and tug you from the door. “Wait..”
Heeseung’s eyelashes flutter, lips jutting out confused and tilting his head. “What’s up?”
“I look gross..” you mumble quietly, peering down at your sock covered feet. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”
Heeseung’s surprised, stepping close again to lift your cheeks in his palms. “Gross? You never look gross, what are you talking about?”
“Really?”
Taking in your sleepy eyes up-close, he slowly nods, pushing your lips together. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, biting it away nervously to stop himself from word vomiting about how adorable you are right now. “You couldn’t look gross even if you tried.” Heeseung gulps, silently praying you can’t hear that escalating thump in his chest, the one pounding in his ear hard enough to rapidly rush blood up to his brain and physically throb.
“You…” distracting himself with your bottom lip, he presses the center with his thumb, dipping the fleshy fat in to spill out around his digit. “You look cuddly… I wanna cuddle you..” Heeseung wants to cringe, a red blush of heat races to the tips of his ears.
“Cuddle?!” You squeak, placing your palm over your mouth to decrease the round of laughs you let out. “Alpha, what are we?”
“Ughhhhh” grimacing, he turns quickly to run away and hide, only making it easier to loop your arms around his waist from behind and pull him past your door.
Heeseung whines, allowing himself to be dragged back and weakened by your scent pouring down the four walls you sleep in the middle of. Feet shuffling back and placing his larger palms over yours. “Would you be taking me to bed right now if I had said I want to eat you out and bury my tongue in your ass until you cry?”
It’s his turn to laugh when you come to an abrupt halt at the edge of your bed, squeezing your hands to free up enough space to turn and smirk at you. “Cuddling worked in my favor.” The Alpha grins wolfishly, gaze drifting to the pile of clothes organized on your bed in a structured shape. “You’re nesting??”
Embarrassment floods your face, spreading your arms out in lame attempt to cover up the pile of your favorite belongings. “I told you, I don’t feel too good..”
A contemplative frown forms on his lips, catching a glimpse of the small blanket you carried around as a kid despite Jake making fun of you for being well past the age to still need your ‘blanky’. Heeseung always thought it was cute, especially when you’d lay down during movie nights and fall asleep curled up in a ball, cheek squished against the soft fabric scrunched under your face.
“Maybe I should leave then,” he suggests, genuinely concerned. “No pressure, seriously, the guys are probably wondering why I’m taking so long.”
It’s true, Sunghoon had already brought it up last time they hung out at Jake’s. Flipping him off after returning from your bedroom aka ‘the bathroom’.
‘The fuck did you eat man, lost my high score because of you!’
Heeseung laughed it off nervously, mumbling something about developing a lactose intolerance or whatever; excusing his upset stomach and mentioning needing to ‘cut down his instant noodle intake.’
He knows this is risky, stupid even, Jake always cracked jokes about how every Alpha that took you out on dates had to deal with a thorough interrogation first. Practically ripping Sunghoon’s head off when he sniffed the air after your first heat and suggested he check in on you since your sweet slick was still strong enough to taste.
Jake’s his best friend, and he should know better than anyone to never mess with his sister.
“Stay for just a little?”
Yeah, Heeseung should know better and maybe he does, but that doesn’t stop him from crawling into your bed beside you, head resting on your shoulder laid with enough space to not mess up your nest with his scent.. unless you asked him to.
“You sure you don’t want me to get anything for you?” He doesn’t want to leave, sitting up to smooth your hair down and brush your cheek. “It’s really not a big deal, I’ll be fast.”
“I’m fine Hee..” trailing off, you eye his clothing appraisingly, biting your nail in an anxious manner. “There might be one thing..”
“Anything.”
Heeseung’s a little surprised when you tug on the sleeve of his zip-up, avoiding his questioning gaze. “Can I borrow your hoodie? I’ll give it back, promise.”
Without even hesitating he tugs it off and balls up the material handing it off, sealing his lips shut before saying you can just keep it. Reminding himself that this is his favorite hoodie after all, softer and more worn-in than any of his others. Borrowing might be for the best in this case.
Unraveling and setting the garment near your head seems to instantly lift your mood, relaxing your shoulders and easing deeper into your pile of clothes. Heeseung remembers some detail from anatomy class about Omegas being picky with the scents of Alphas infiltrating their spaces, especially their nest. They don’t just allow any Alpha to enter their safe space.
“I’ll text you later, yeah?” Heeseung leans over to place a kiss on your forehead and cheek, smiling when you shove your lips out and pout for another kiss. “Feel better pup, can’t have you getting sick.”
“Worried I won’t look good anymore?” You ask, still carrying a sassy bite in your tone.
Heeseung shakes his head, backing away toward your door. “More worried about how long I’d be out of action, you’d be worth every sniffle and cough.”
Heeseung hasn’t moved an inch from his spot in bed, lazily blinking up at the ceiling while groaning and squinting away bits of sunlight speckling through window blinds. Yesterday had really not gone as planned at all, if he could even consider any of this to be a plan.
Dry swallowing, he finally shifts enough to feel an ache in his lower back, moistening the swollen glands in his throat. Something felt off, deciding it had to be grogginess from staying up hours into the late night to jack-off a few more times after your short conversation through text messages came to an end. Clueless little Omega supplying him material so naively, blindly feeding his Alphas desires. A few photos of your bare chest and stomach was more than enough, kindly thanking you and insisting you get some rest instead of dragging on your evening to talk to him.
Fingers reach for his dry morning lips to trace over, eyes fluttering shut replaying every soft breath, shy moan, and secret smile you’ve ever shared with him. Heeseung contemplates for a moment what he needs to do today, weighing the idea of canceling any plans in favor of rubbing his dick raw for the next few hours.
“Hmm..” patting around for his phone for a minute he finds it under a pile of clothes near the foot of his bed, lifting the device up and shooting up to sit upon the screen coming to life full of notifications.
Jakey: ANSWER YOUR PHONE ASSHOLE.
Jakey: You’re DEAD.
Jakey: ARE YOU FUCKING MY SISTER?!?
Jakey: I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF. ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE!
A fit of coughs steal Heeseung’s breath, phone bouncing in his grip as sweat rushes to his palms. “Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck.”
He has to think fast, anxiety ridden by the mass of text messages flooding his inbox, he feels short of breath, continuing to curse and pull at tufts of hair. You couldn’t have snitched on him?!? You wouldn’t! Right?
Heeseung tries to calm himself, standing up pacing back and forth as his phone pings with new messages, and then a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“You dick! What the fuck! What the fuck!” Jake screeches, he sounds out of breath himself. Spazzmatic and discombobulated, flying off the handles and immediately into a fit of rage. “MY SISTER?!? MY FUCKING BABY SISTER! YOU DICK! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND!!”
“Jake! Jake!” Heeseung knocks his forehead against his closet door, overwhelmed by the amount of shouting and anger being flung at him. “What are you going off about!”
“My sister! I’m gonna kill you!”
“What about her?!”
Jake growls, pacing back and forth himself outside of your house. “Get over here right now. RIGHT NOW HEESEUNG!! I’M FUCKING SERIOUS. IF YOUR ASS ISN’T HERE IN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES I’LL KILL YOU!”
The line falls dead making his head spin faster, bile races up to his throat unable to even process what’s just happened. Would you have told Jake? You wouldn’t…
Heeseung moves on auto-pilot, refusing to even allow himself to journey to the sector of his mind that had started to believe you could actually like him. That this was more than just teaching you to pleasure another guy, another Alpha. He knows it’s fucked up, you don’t owe him that, you don’t owe him anything, but the one thing he asked was for Jake to never find out about your deal..
The short drive to his friend's house drags on for what feels like hours, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to distract himself and blasting the radio doesn’t work. Nothing can drown out the echo of Jake’s shouting or the dread weighing down his shoulders of either confessing and possibly losing his friend or coming up with a believable lie somehow.
I never touched her!
She came to me first! She begged me for it!
We just kissed, one time! It wasn’t serious!
Heeseung sighs driving through your street, slowing down to park as he nears your house.
I really like your sister Jake. I like her a lot, I always have.
Fuck.
Jake’s standing outside fuming, already rushing for his car door screaming at him to get out. “My sister?!? You pervert!”
“Jake! Come on dude!” Heeseung’s grateful in that moment he has some size over his friend, wrapping around the shorters wrists to tug himself free from his grip, he shoves up onto his toes to create enough space between them. “What did I do!”
“You tell me!” Jake shoves his chest, mouth snapping shut and shaking his head as a loud cry sounds from the bedroom upstairs. Your bedroom, Heeseung’s attention immediately shifts, sniffing the air, skin prickling down his spine.
Heeseung. Heeseung please.
“She’s been calling your name all night,” Jake sneers, shoving the taller Alpha again. “Fucking filled the house with her scent, none of us can stand being in there. Why the fuck is my sister begging for my best friend, huh?!”
Heeseung’s lips open and part, throat drying up again the more he tries to focus and not barrel through your bedroom window somehow. “I… I don’t know..”
“Liar!” Jake pummels him, fisting the collar of his shirt with bared teeth. Another scream sounds from the house, clenching his eyes shut angrily. “You need to fix this.” He shoves the taller away, nodding toward the front door.
“What??” Heeseung can’t control how dizzy he feels, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief. He must be asleep, he has to be dreaming, right? There’s no way Jake’s asking him to take care of you, to spend your heat with you.
“She needs you.” He sighs, stepping back and balling his fists at his hips. “You’re such an asshole Hee, anyone but her.”
“I didn’t..” Heeseung starts, shoulders falling as he shoves aside every excuse. “I’m sorry.”
Jake curses, the veins lining his forearm pulsating faster with each clench of his fists. Nails digging into his palms deep enough to cut skin. “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.”
“I like her.” Heeseung stands tall, straightening out his back. “I like her a lot. I really fucking like her man..”
Jake shakes his head, nodding toward the house. “I’ll deal with you later. Can’t stand to hear her in pain anymore.” With that he tosses the house key to his best friend, possibly former friend, disappointment clear in the way his lips disappear into a thin line. “She needs you.”
Jake says no more, turning away with a middle finger over his shoulder without sparing Heeseung another glance. The Alpha seems dumbfounded, jerkily peering from the key burning through his palm to your bedroom window.
Heeseung. Heeseung, I need you.
This is a dream, this has to be a dream, maybe even a nightmare. From the floaty footsteps he takes, to the swirl of your thick syrupy scent levitating him up the stairs, this can’t be real.
Heeseung stares at the last steps before entering the hallway leading to your bedroom, imagining it crumbles beneath his foot, dropping him down to the pits of hell. A horrific fall to finally wake him up and ruin this fantasy, but it never comes.
Instead he ends at your door, surrounded by a swarm of your pretty anguished moans, dizzy from the smell of your arousal melting off the hallway walls. Each note so powerful, pronounced, landing in heavy slaps across his face making his brain rock around.
Fuck this is crazy, this can’t be real. This just can’t be real.
A desperate cry of his name shatters the imaginary rose-tinted glasses clouding his vision, gasping as you shriek and cry out loudly for him. Instinctive over logic has him reaching for your doorknob, hissing from the hot heat scolding the tips of his fingers. “Fuck, what the hell.”
Everything goes white when he finally pushes your door open, a humid wave of air burns his face, asphyxiated by the overwhelming potency of your aroused scent. It’s stronger than anything he’s ever smelled before, tying thick strings of sweetness around his lungs; trapping him under the spell of your mind-destroying aroma. His cock jumps before even looking up, struggling to even breathe between the whirlwind of emotions and sensations hitting him all at once.
“H-Heeseung????”
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You couldn’t sound more desperate, wanton, so damn pathetic and pliant. Drool pools around his tongue, slowly lifting his gaze toward the direction of your voice, choking on his next breath when he finds you.
Nothing could have prepared him for the insane visual of your perfect curves glistening drenched in sweat, lips so so swollen from biting back cries and moans; eyes deliriously blazed out, irises full of bright golds lost in another dimension of heat. The epitome of hedonism, every wet dream and sad little fantasy he’s had for months that left him jerking off, whining and ejaculating alone into another pack of tissues. Too good to be true, his sweet sweet innocent pup, writhing up with your hand stretched out, beckoning him to claim you.
“Alpha!” It rips through him, slices right between his chest hitting every ligament and muscle, rupturing sharp cuts deep into his organs. The air stills as he reads your lips in slow motion; gliding across your bedroom floor as if possessed by some higher power.
Mate.
Heeseung clenches his eyes shut, urging himself to wake up from this delusional dream. No way that his Alpha could have gone this far off the deep end to believe that you’d ever crave for him during your heat.
“Heeseung!”
He can see it clearly now, the week you and Jake moved to the neighborhood a few blocks away from his house. Growing up everyone hung out at the local playground after school, and everyday throughout summer. It’s just what kids did to let out energy and not stay cooped up inside all day.
He’d actually met you before Jake. It was the first week of riding your bike without training wheels, and you hadn’t been getting the hang of it very well. Heeseung remembers noticing you pedal and pause repeatedly, glancing around behind your back in search of something or someone. Fear etched your delicate features, seeming frustrated as you talked yourself into pedaling longer and finally getting the hang of it only to fall with a loud girlish scream booming around the courtyard.
Ignoring his friends he jogged over to help you, hearing a bunch of taunts and snickers behind his back as he called time-out and made his way to assist you in getting up. The bike chain had trapped your ankle making tears spring to your eyes while you fought with it to escape.
“Hey..” Heeseung squatted down, hand hovering near. “Can I help?”
It was too early to say what either of you would be someday, but a part of you always saw the older as an Alpha. He always treated you differently from the rest of Jake’s friends,
From that day on he always made sure to look out for you, Jake never minded it really. If anything he was happy to split the burden of caring for a younger sibling with his friend. Not that he could have predicted that same friend would end up being the one to try and fuck his sister.
Heeseung snaps back to reality, your hands caged tightly around his wrists scorching to the touch weakly attempting to pull him down. He wants to feel bad for you, laid out so pitifully there failing to acquire your Alpha.
“Use your words.” Bending closer to hover near your face, he kisses the backs of his teeth; his Alpha finally breaking free and taking over. “I wanna hear you ask for it.”
Confusion reflects back at him, already too gone and lost in your lust. He climbs onto your bed, overpowering your hold on him and gripping your jaw to keep your gaze on him. “Alphas going to take care of you, is that what you want?”
Heeseung’s never been with an Omega during their heat, but he’s watched plenty of videos. He’s the one that told you they make for good study material afterall. Taking in your flushed cheeks coated with a fresh sheen of sweat he swallows and cleans off the pools of tears gathering under your eyes. This is real, the fire emitting off your skin, your puffed lips parted open with strings of saliva connecting inside. All of it very very real.
“Alpha,” you croak out watery, sniffling back snot. It’s thrilling to feel this power over you, igniting a rush of excitement through his stomach and chest. “H-help me.”
Heeseung can feel his temperature rise instantly, damn close to feverish the way his lungs shrink hearing your broken plea.
“Hey hey..” leaning close to skim your lips, he breathes in a sigh of relief, every tight muscle and rigged joint in his body relaxing as your scent soothes through him in calming waves. “I’m here now, I’ve got you baby.”
He kisses passionately, more incessant than usual, licking past your tongue to taste the deep sectors of your mouth. The sound of your lips puckering together between spit and short breaths surrounds the room, magnified by the empty noise clogging your senses. Heeseung savors this calm before the storm, the exposure to your pleasured state of mind finally cracks him, taking toll on his last bits of sanity. He needs to fuck you into oblivion, make you his, hang you off his cock until its the only seat you’ll ever need.
Even then he tries his best to ignore how painfully engorged his dick has become, straining beneath his cotton boxers and sweats. He tries to ignore the way his spine has begun to tense up painfully, fighting through his muddled thoughts to stay focused on making you feel good.
Trapped between reality and a dream, he hasn’t even noticed the nest you’d made the other day lays mostly on the floor now, all except one piece half hidden under one of your pillows. The familiar black sleeve with white print catches his attention from the corner of his eye, pulling it out with a smile when your neck turns to nuzzle into the fabric slathered in a mixture of your combined scents. If not for the blockers you’d used the other day, Heeseung would have known right away that you were entering pre-heat, already hyper-fixated with having the Alpha by your side. The hoodie had been the last straw to shatter your normalcy, waking up with sweat dripping from every pore seeping into your bedding.
The Alpha inadvertently triggered your heat, unaware of his affect on you as you both kept up your acts to ultimately protect yourselves from getting hurt.
“Baby..” you reach for his cheek, digits gliding past the buzzed hair lining the sides of his skull, undercut still fresh enough for blunt edges to scratch against your palms. “Say it again.”
Heeseung kisses the heel of your palm, cheek easing into your caressing touch. “Baby, my baby..” possessiveness blooms in his chest the more he repeats the loving nickname, eyes on your features relaxing as he kisses down the inside of your forearm, tracing each syllable out until he reaches your shoulder and nips your skin, pausing at your neck to inhale your scent gland. The smell of sweet creamy milk and fresh strawberries more potent than ever, coated in honey dripping down in dollops. Mouthwatering, that’s what your scent is, making his tongue fatten up and salivate, licking up your jawbone to nibble on your earlobe. “Baby.”
He licks into your mouth eating up the moans you keep letting out, obsessed with how fragrant and flavorful your saliva tastes, every part of you more alive and amplified by the need to be fucked; naturally emitting alluring pheromones to attract Alphas for pleasuring your every desire. Pulling away with a coat of your spit leaving a glossy finish on his lips, he takes in your dazed expression again, in disbelief that he gets to be the one to touch your body and fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you until you either beg for a break or pass out.
“Anything for my baby.”
Heeseung has to ready himself, sitting back on his knees with shaky hands wrapping around your calves. He’s more nervous than you’d ever know, wants this to be perfect for you, because this is all about you. This has always been about you. Buttery smooth skin melts between his digits, slowly gliding up to the backs of your knees and pausing to watch your chest rise and fall, adrenaline pumping through your veins making minutes feel more like hours and days.
Parting your thighs open, he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, somehow still not over the sight of your pretty cunt. Always glistening with slick, spreading open as if to greet him. Even your pussy wants him, he thinks.
He swipes between the slit, pushing your folds apart to examine your hole, already gaping just begging to be fucked. The pool of slick under your ass more than enough to draw a groan out of the Alpha, his palm lays over your middle teasingly, the heel of his palm pressing to your clit. “Been touching your pretty pussy baby?”
He doesn’t expect your hips to jump up, the motion gluing his palm to your clit and ripping a string of moans out of you, to feel his thick heavy hand touching you instead of your more dainty fingers that fail to satisfy you enough.
“Did you think about me? Moaned for your Alpha to spread your slutty hole open?” He snarls, unable to stop teasing despite his cock raging, hanging heavy and stiff as a rock between his thighs.
“U—ughh, Alpha please!” You’re groveling already, sniffing away the tears trickling down to your nose. Bottom lip abused over by your teeth nipping and pulling to have something to bite on.
“Please what?” He asks, face serious with lifted eyebrows peering down at you condescendingly. Heeseung knows it’s mean to make you wait any longer, but he can’t resist from playing with you a little more, stroking down to circle your painful looking hole. “Ask nicely.”
He buries three fingers in at once to make a point, scissoring in and out to his first knuckle making your thighs fall apart more to watch his forearm jackhammer in and out, lines of veins pronounced up from his wrist working hard to stretch you out around his digits.
“Please…pleasepleaseplease,” lifting your neck uncomfortably, you watch him fuck in and out, mouth hung open drooling without shame. “F-fuck me, please! Heeseung, please!”
Heeseung grins, sliding out to smear your slick around and pinch your clit, forcing your hips to jump up. His wet hand slaps your thigh, nodding to the empty space beside you. “Present.”
Humiliation drains down your face knowing the Alpha wants you to display yourself on all fours much like the Omegas had in videos he’d ordered you to watch. Another slap to your thigh gets you moving, slowly turning over and dropping your back into a deep arch for your ass to jut out, cheek pressed flat to your bed to drown your whimpers.
“You can do better than that.” Heeseung snarls, fingers twitching by his hips to not reach out and do it himself, but you have to learn. These lessons were never about Jay to begin with, and he won’t start letting you fail now. “I said present.”
His voice shivers up your back, reaching to pull yourself apart and unveil your core for the Alpha, nails digging into the meat of your ass. The moan you let out hidden under whined whimpers and cries. Heeseung knows you like it nonetheless, hole vibrating for him, calling for him to shove his fat cock deep inside and fill your womb.
He lets it rain down on him, everything. Engulfed by your heady arousal, all of it for him. It will always be for him, only him.
The Alpha sneers, bending down planting a kiss on your rim, surprising you to bounce forward; ass wobbling in your grip making his eyes roll up. “Greedy little cunt needs Alphas cock huh? ‘Wanna be filled up so bad don’t you pup?”
Quickly discarding his clothing, he smooths over your hips, gripping the meat lining the sides of your spread open thighs. Ass perfectly rounded at the top, desperate to watch your tight little hole try to take his length. Stroking himself only a few times he trembles, locking the base in a tight grip as he moves closer on his knees to prod the tip against your entrance.
It’s a visual he’ll never forget, just working the tip around your pulsating hole. The band of it snapping around his bulbous cockhead divinely, to an excruciating point, having to use all of his willpower to not tear through your cunt and ram you into your bed.
Heeseung needs to see you though, forcing himself to not enter you all the way even when you whine and your ass ripples from the tremors driving up your spine.
He needs to see your pretty wrecked face, savaged by the Alpha wishing to claim you. He gets you onto your back easily, wide gaze staring back at him surprised. “Hee?”
“This might hurt..” feeling up your inner thighs, he hauls your groin close to his, cock resting on your folds; the tip reaches up to your navel, groaning deeply at the difference in size. “Let me know if it’s too much.” Heeseung fails to finish his words, leaving out the ‘I’ll try to stop.’
“S’ok Hee.. trust you.” You say, so innocently, gazing up at him like some type of earth goddess. He’s not sure if he can stop now, lowering to lay chest to chest and brush his nose against yours.
“I trust you too.” It feels like the right thing to say, and it’s the truth. He feels safe here with you, lost in this fever daydream you’ve created in your bedroom; more euphoric and a higher high than any drug.
Heeseung can’t believe how wet you are, making it hard for him to properly penetrate you without reaching to direct his cock; slowly feeding the tip in without removing his gaze from your face. The small gasp you let out only makes him twitch, pushing in another inch. The discomfort evident in your nose wrinkling, eyebrows twisting together and the anguished moans you try to keep in. “Alpha.. h-hurts too much, s’too big..”
“I know baby,” he cooes, petting your hair and breathing against your lips. “It’ll get better, just trust me.” The Alpha wishes he could even trust himself, violently throbbing inside your overbearingly tight heat, the fit more snug than anything he’s ever felt before. “Gonna move okay?”
He pulls out only a few inches, experimenting with his next thrust, falling into a short succession without breaking eye-contact. Lips pulled back over his teeth trying to hold himself back, the second your moans switch from pained to pleasure jostles his brain.
“Good? Feels good, yeah?” He pants, aching to really fuck you, not even letting you get in a full nod before pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in earnest. Fucking into you harder, his balls start to clap against your ass, grunting and moaning with each bury of his cock inside your suffocating heat. “Oh, you’re so good.”
Heessung can hear your sobs, your thighs trembling around him, cunt suctioning around his thick girth trying to keep him out. “Fuck, gonna make me cum already. You have to cum for me first baby.” He reaches down, the tips of his fingers pressing firmly to your clit, pushing side to side bursting shocks through your nerves.
“O-oh! Hee! Alpha! G-gonna c-cum!”
Heeseung speeds up from there, chasing your orgasm, chasing his own, keeping his dick deep inside you with each hard slam. Hands slap down on his shoulders, scratching red irritated skin up with your nails dragging down. Choking on your sobs and whimpers as your hips jump up and black covers your eyes. A white static noise fills your ears, head spinning, jerking under the Alphas pummeling thrusts.
He curses, hissing from the burn of your nails digging in, growling through his balls squeezing up and pushing him over; cock spilling through his thrusts. Some of it pouring deep inside of you, most spilling out as he draws out and slows down.
Choking back what he wants to say he finds your lips, silently sharing his feelings with a searing kiss, tongue reaching to the back of your mouth as he comes to a stop.
Fucking immaculate. Perfect, you’re so damn perfect.
Heeseung praises you for taking him so good, shaped around his cock like you’re meant to be used everyday. It’s enough to satiate you for a bit, and finally rest your heavy eyes until the Alpha wakes up with your face buried between his thighs.
As much as he wants to watch his cum drip out of your ruined hole, he can’t fight the urge to shove his tongue inside. It’s too good, your sweet pussy squeezing around him in shock, the taste of his release mixed together with yours. Fuck, it might be the best thing he’s ever tasted. Pushing the globes of your ass open further to shove his tongue in deeper, he groans similar to a hungry dog, tongue lapping akin to one getting in their daily hydration.
Heeseung thoroughly works in and out of your hole, licking up the slick between your folds and down to your clit, stealing another orgasm out of you as he senselessly rolls his tongue around, never wanting to live another day without his face buried in your pussy. Pulling away finally to breathe, his face is a mess of slick and spit, highlighting his nose like it’s meant to be there.
“Still so wet for me.” He pants, relishing the taste of your wetness, licking his mouth clean. “Tastes so good for me.”
Helping you onto your back, he kisses up to your face, spending extra time licking your navel and breasts, sucking your nipples to pebbled rocks. Settling back between your thighs, he slots back in, rubbing the tip up and down to slicken up his length. “Wanna fuck you over and over again, you want that baby, want me to fuck you full of cum again?” He rasps, vocals already tight and dry from moaning.
“Please, need it, need more Alpha.”
Heeseung thinks he might go insane, pressing in and angling his hips to hit your pleasure point with each thrust. Hips initially stuttering as he builds up a rhythm and fucks into you faster, cock vigorously pounding into you hard; only held in place by his arms latching onto your shoulders. “It’s all for you baby.”
Heeseung thinks you must be an angel, lit up by rays of sun sneaking past your curtains. Even your hair somehow fall’s perfectly, sculpting and contouring the highlighted peaks of your skin, glowing after resting up and waking to your Alpha snuggled against your back.
He insisted you eat something before getting back to it, settling on stuffing you with his cock to quell your insatiable need to feel full as long as you at least finish a power bar for him; one typically used to ensure Alphas and Omegas keep up their energy with proper nourishment through ruts and heats. It took more coaxing to feed you bottles of water, having to fuck you a few more times before calming your heat enough for you to swallow from the bottle he places on your lips.
“How’re you feeling?” Heeseung slurs, lying lazily beneath you, petting different shapes of patterns onto your back and listening to your breath return to a normal rate.
“Better, thanks to you Alpha.”
It never lasts too long, these calm tender moments. A few words at best before you’re seeking his length again, pressing your slicked up folds around his length, building up a grind with pointed swivels of your hips. Better, but not good enough to break your heat, this one your worst so far. Suppressants and blockers helped before Heeseung had unleashed new worlds for you to explore. The Alpha had become a daily daydream, aimlessly sitting around often wondering what he could be up to right now. What else does he do besides hang out at your house playing video games and basketball, and more importantly why isn’t he here sneaking off to your bedroom again.
Thoughts of the Alpha spiraled constantly, finding yourself staring at him more than anyone else these days. His handsome features captured your attention more now, growing numb to them the more you grew up around each other and convinced yourself that you never had a crush on Heeseung. Nothing to do with your first dance with heartbreak when he introduced you to his first girlfriend, the first of many you’d come to learn.
Tickling up past his biceps, you trap his wrists above his head, circling repetitive motion creating a delicious friction for the both of you. Slick reaches up high on his chest, blending in perfectly with sweat rippling through divots of muscle and red bitten flesh. Everything you touch burns hot, every sound louder and crisp clear, and every brush along your clit flutters your eyes shut, neck dropping back releasing loud moans the more you ride his length.
Heeseung’s groaning, nose scrunched up to keep his eyes focused on your euphoric gaze and breasts swinging closer to his mouth the harder and faster you hump up and down his cock. Throbbing against your clit with every rough planted push of your hips. Lips latch to your nipple, catching you off guard as he sucks and bites around your puffy aroused areola.
Slick hits his abdomen, jerky thrusts roll down as you hunch over and loosen your grip on him, limply falling closer allowing him to suck around your breast. Heeseung digs his hips up making you jolt, thigh lifting to turn your bodies over and lay you beneath him, wanting to watch your face crumble when you take his knot finally.
The mess of slick covering both of your torsos is beyond obscene, your cunt still leaking profusely leaving stains all over your bed that washing will never be able to remove. Massaging your own release up to your breasts he slots between your folds again, controlling the slide this time and running the tip of his cock over your bundle of nerves faster until your thighs break intro tremors over his hips; using your near breach of pleasure to push the entirety of his length in.
Fuck. He’ll never get tired of this. Not the way you clamp around him so tight, pussy sucking around him as if you’ll never let go. Not the saccharin moans you let out, and not the pretty way your back bows upward; eyes rolled up enthralled by the mass stretching you open.
“Need to knot..” his eyebrows furrow together, pressing on the bulge that formed beneath your navel. Most of it from loads and loads of cum filling up your cervix, protruding out near pornographic with the tip of his cock reaching deep enough to lift your mound. “That has to hurt baby.”
Any other time you might agree, shove his chest away and cry for him to pull it out. Under the spell of heat you only grind into him, working his cock to press against your walls deliciously. The Alpha growls from his chest, concentrating on how stretched you look sucking around the middle of his cock, fucking yourself up and down too slow for his liking.
Digging into the backs of your thighs he hoists your legs up onto his biceps, just enough to watch his cock pummel in and out of you. Pussy skin locked around him, sucked on his cock with each pull back before thrusting it back to disappear inside of you. “Fuck, how are you still so tight. Taking all this dick, need to breed you baby. Fuck you full over and over again.” He pants, shoving your thighs together to one side, ankles locked together dangling behind his shoulder. Palms clap down on your hip, the side of your exposed thigh; bed creaking noisily the faster his pace builds up, the headboard knocking against the wall hard enough to form a dent.
“Want you to take it, take all of it.” He groans, voice deep and raspy. Cock slamming in and out, in and out, pushing slick and bits of fresh cum out to trickle past your rim; landing in a filthy pool of arousal on your ruined bedding. “Gonna fucking breed you all the time now, fill you with pups everyday. You’d like that right? Fuck you pregnant again and again.”
Heeseung’s rambling, spewing nonsense, going crazy from his knot finally finally beginning to expand. He can’t stop now, no matter how loud you whimper and cry out, little fists wrapped around his hoodie above your head. Eyes glazed over, rolling back with your neck lifted fully exposing your perfect throat; even more perfect when you wear his mark someday.
His teeth itch imagining dropping forward, digging them in until you bleed and pass out on his knot. Tearing his gaze away he drops your thighs open, chest sucked in awe at how obscenely stretched you are, the start of his knot struggling to thrust past your tight hole. “Such a good Omega, perfect fucking pussy, swallowing me so good pup.”
He whines, bending down to lick into your mouth. Biceps caging your head and finding your fists to circle around. Leveraging his weight, he pushes up using his hold on your hands, chest hovering above your face. “Perfect for me. So. Fucking. Perfect.”
Heeseung can feel his orgasm nearing, thrusts turning sloppy and miscalculated, his legs shaking from fucking into you, using more force to fill you to the brim.
“Hee— n-no more, c-can’t.” Breathy pleads pour from your lips, ragged and choked only aided by each delivery of his hips colliding into the backs of your thighs.
“You can, my good girl, my good fucking baby. So good for me.” Heeseung lands flat on top of you, hips racing to orgasm as he reaches to circle your clit, pinching the bundle of nerves pushing you into over sensitivity. Slick drenches his stomach and thighs, dripping down to his balls, clapping against your ass wet and loud.
“Gonna cum—“ his forehead wrinkles, fingers shoving in-between yours to squeeze down, forcing the fat base of his knot in past your wet entrance. It’s not easy, only able to bury half of it in past your twitching rim. The sound of uh-uh-uh-uh moans out by his ear, stirring his brain into a frenzy. He can’t stop the brutal snap of his hips, face dripping in sweat, hair matted to his head; collapsing as the first spurt of cum shoots out inside of you. Knot swelled up to full size, pussy snagged tightly around him; milking every last bit of release out of him.
The Alpha hisses, nose burying into your cheek, relief finally easing his back, loosening his tight muscles to relax and kiss down your jaw. “You take my knot so well, you’re so good for me.”
Dropping down to your neck, he licks it clean of sweat, littering kisses to your scent gland. Cock grinding as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel it again. The need to claim and mate..
The Alphas canines burn, aching up into his gums and incinerating the roots connected to his nerves, every vessel inside him pulses loudly, shouting mate mate mate. The heady half-lidded lost stare behind your eyes only triggers his wolf all the more, tongue dragging against the sharp tips of his eye-teeth hungrily bouncing back and forth from your tear stained face to the exposed juncture of your neck, veins pulsating vibrantly as if begging him to bury his teeth in and take a bite.
“Alpha..”
Fuck. Blood rushes to his skull, holding his breath to not fall under the spell of your succulent scent luring him deeper past limits of sanity. If he gives in, everything will change between the two of you. You could hate him, too disoriented to even fully understand what you’re asking him to do. He knows that, knows that once your heat passes you’ll regret it, the risk of being on the receiving end of your wrath controls his feral need to tear your throat to shreds. A shame to not leave you marked and claimed for no other Alpha to even dare to glance at again. Fire erupts through his chest needing something, something to quell his natural predatory instinct.
“Bite me.” He groans sharp and clear, cutting through the thick haze of stuffy humid air clouding your bedroom.
“Huh, what???” Still reeling from post-orgasmic bliss and on the brink of passing out, you peer at him like he just grew another head.
“Bite me.. need you to..” Heeseung speaks through gritted teeth, lowering the long expanse of his throat down to your mouth, hot lips graze the soft skin covering his scent gland. The Alphas scent comes off distressed this close to your nose, spiking with urgency and desire, but hinting putrid undertones just enough to have your Omega spiraling into a panic.
What if our Alphas unhappy with us? What if he doesn’t see us as good enough now? What if we don’t meet his standard for a mate?
Every worry and fear barrels into you at once, sorrowful howls following, twisting your gut into an uncomfortable wrench. The need for reassurance has you digging into your Alphas shoulders, nails scraping deeply into his pretty sun-kissed skin. Heeseung groans and hisses, neck never leaving your lips even when you press him in closer and brush your nostrils up and down his pulse to leave a heavy claim of your scent stuck on him.
Unaware of your rushed thoughts he scoops your nape, hoisting your neck up more, repeating to bite him again. The proximity and desperation sends your Omega over the moon, teeth grazing his throat with light nips to ready yourself.
“Bite me hard.” Heeseung’s voice trembles, eyes fluttering shut as your teeth finally sink in, instantaneously dropping his weight down on you. The feral monster on his back scurrying away as you suck around his tender flesh, teeth digging in enough for it to hurt. The lick of pain calms his Alpha, releasing your neck to lay flat on top of you and crush your air flow in the process, having to bite down harder to keep the Alpha alert.
He grunts softly, shifting off to your side to not plaster you. “Hurts..” Heeseung’s eyes drop shut, breathing out raggedly while you lick up the indentations of marked skin and brand new wounds sprouting up.
It’s uncommon, simp shit really, for an Alpha to proudly display the mark of their Omega. Let alone any Omega, especially one that has nothing on their neck to stake claim. In disbelief he not only let you bite him, but asked you to, he ducks and turns away; back facing you as his mind clears enough to realize what he’s done.
“Alpha?” The helplessness in your tone shivers down his back, unable to stop himself from turning back around to wrap you in a tight hug chest to chest.
The two of you share quiet words, intently gazing into each other’s eyes as your wolves frolick side by side. Rejoicing to finally be together, their loving warmth radiating around your naked figures.
“What now?” You whisper, asking fearfully. Heeseung hates that he’s made you worry, hates that you’d even have to wonder or question him.
“Now..” Heeseung starts, voice rough and husky. “I beg Jake not to kill me, and allow me to court his sister properly..”
“You wanna court me?” You try to not laugh, a habit whenever you feel shy, tucking your face into his neck to hide. “You don’t have to.. just because we—“
“I really like you.” Heeseung stops you, tilting his neck back enough to watch your face. “Maybe more than I’ve ever let on.. and I’m sorry about that. I should have said something sooner, but you always liked Jay..”
The Alpha masks how much saying his friends name annoys him, feeling more vulnerable wrapped around you with your wolves connected. It’s not a strong enough connection to fully satisfy either of you, but it’s enough to calm you down before your next surge of heat takes over again.
“You know,” you sigh, shoving your nose against his. “I liked you way before Jay.”
“You don’t have to lie to me..” Heeseung can feel blush rise up his cheeks, the rush of hot blood traveling all the way down to his nose exposing how humiliated he feels.
“I’m not lying, I never thought..” you huff a laugh, head shaking. “..you know, you always treated me in a way that made me feel like you’d only ever see me as Jake’s younger sister. All protective and stuff, even lecturing me about boys and Alphas after that one time..”
Heeseung knows you mean when he scolded you for having snuck a boy up to your bedroom, later on becoming familiar with your best friend and having no worries that the two of you wouldn’t be getting up to much again. “I care about you.”
“Yeah?”
He wonders if you even realize he just begged you to bite him, scoffing a laugh as you bat your eyelashes at him and throw your thigh over his hip eagerly. “Yeah, I really do.”
“Show me how much you care, Alpha.”
“Can’t believe you let her bite you.” Jay scoffs, reaching to flick his taller friend's neck. “That’s some genuine bitch shit dude. Real piece of work she marked you with there too. No Omegas going to even look at you now.”
Heeseung grunts, shoving his friend away as they wait outside of your house, hand coming up to trace the scab marks your sharp canine teeth left behind. He can’t stop himself from aimlessly stroking over the area throughout the day, floating off to a warm place in his mind where only you exist. “Can’t believe Jake hasn’t tried to kill you either, if it was my little sister you’d be dead by now.”
“She’d never let him.” Heeseung says proudly, leaning back against the passenger seat of his car. “Jakey’s learning to.. accept it.”
Jay shrugs, blowing out a low whistle and repositioning himself to lean back as well. “It’s funny though you know..”
Heeseung hums, quirking an eyebrow at the Alpha. “What is?”
Jay laughs uncomfortably, scratching his neck over the heart-shaped birthmark adorning the side of his throat; a usual nervous tick of his. “It’s probably stupid, but I always thought she liked me?”
Heeseung can feel his chest lurch, swallowing down a quick flash of anger and digging the tips of his fingers into the bite marks gracing his skin, as if to seal them in place permanently. “You’re right, pretty stupid. Besides, she’s way out of your league.”
Jay laughs sarcastically, surprised by the unnecessary aggressive comment, shaking his head and pushing off the car to stand on the sidewalk more at eye-level with the taller Alpha. “I guess you’re right..” trailing off he shifts awkwardly for a minute, nodding to himself. “Always thought you liked her as more than just a friend anyway..”
Heeseung straightens out hearing a creak from your front door opening, attention fully focused on the smile lighting up your face, not even noticing Jake glaring from behind as you exit and stride directly over to him. His chest swells, never once breaking away from your gaze that's just for him; lit up brighter than the sun on the hottest day of summer. It’s all for him, you are all for him.
Mine, all mine.
Heeseung smiles wide, opening his arms wide to wrap around you. “Always.”
