▹ she came over for a movie night but got fucked by my roommates instead
⌗ pornstar!junhan 𝓍 fem!reader ; smut ──── 0.6 words
📸: sub!reader, cuck!hyeongjun, featuring pornstar!jiseok and pornstar!seungmin, protected sex, solo (m) masturbation, pet names, spanking, nipple play (f!rec), condescension mixed w/ praise, name calling (slut once)
( prologue ⋮ masterlist )
HYEONGJUN LEANS BACK IN HIS CHAIR and reaches for the bottle on the table beside him, pouring more lube over his cockhead.
Across from him you’re grinding sloppily against Seungmin’s lap, pussy squeezing more and more around his dick. Though the rising pleasure makes you dizzier by the second, the wet squelching of his fist still reaches you - he edges himself with measured strokes, determined to last as long as possible.
The space between you grows hotter as your eyes meet. His are dark and lidded, full of want, so overwhelming… yours - hazy and euphoric, hinting at how fucked out you are. A chain of mewls slips from your lips as drool pools at the corners; you’re unable to voice a single thought right now - if there are any thoughts left to speak at all.
Jiseok grips your jaw firmly to prevent you from looking away.
His deep voice brings you shivers as he speaks condescendingly at your ear: “He’s freaky, isn’t he?” His other hand is busy toying with your perked nipple, the tips of his swift fingers keep pinching and circling, making your spine arch while Seungmin maintains control of your hips. “Jerking off as his girl gets fucked by other guys... who would want that?”
The pleasure inside you is scorching. You babble out sobs of delight and they mingle with Hyeongjun’s whining. His unyielding gaze remains on your figure that’s positioned between his two friends as they bring his perverse fantasies to life.
He slows his slick hand, hips jerking upwards needily. “You look so good, baby,” he manages through uneven breaths.
“You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?” Jiseok smirks at you, mocking. “Guess that makes it a little less weird.” He adds, letting go of your blushing face.
Now, both of his hands palm your boobs, greedy and harsh. His gaze shines playfully, like they’re toys made for his own enjoyment. Until he captures your sensitive nipples again, glancing at Hyeongjun with amusement.
“Her nipples are so sensitive, did you know that?” He tugs at the stimulated, stiff buds, cooing when you start to quiver, head falling back on his shoulder.
Hyeongjun, frustrated at the comment, swallows a groan, jaw tightening. “Less talking.”
The next moment, you and Seungmin lock eyes. You can’t help but whimper - embarrassed from Jiseok’s continuous condescension, wrecked by the nearing orgasm.
He notices it all, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls you forward, arms wrapped around you. His hips shift the pace and he proceeds fucking you, but this time deeper and faster.
You let out a strangled sound as the rush turns staggering; the knot in your belly - thinner.
“Be good, doll.” Jiseok’s palm lands on your ass demanding.
“Fuck—“ you squeal, face buried in the crook of Seungmin’s neck. “It feels s-so g-good..."
Your trembling moans encourage Seungmin to force his cock even quicker. Breathless and sweating, he perfects his angle, slamming against your sweet spot. “She’s squeezing me so nice right now,” he breathes shakily into your ear. “So tight…”
Jiseok’s stinging slaps continue until you climax - spanking both of your cheeks, he watches the glistening grip of your cunt tighten around his friend’s length, soaking the sheets with arousal.
Once Seungmin pulls out, condom completely soaked, he lets you collapse beside him. Jiseok’s cock twitches in the air excited.
“My turn,” he announces, fingers pressing against your hips as he drags you closer.
Hyeongjun stands up to bring his chair closer to the bed, then he slouches back into it, hand palming his balls at the sight of you on all fours.
Jiseok tilts your chin up, hips swaying as his dick settles inside your fluttering walls.
Your eyes roll back at the thrill - his thickness brings you a different type of stretch. Once he slams into you for the first time, a powerful, shameless moan spills from your mouth.
“There you go,” he smirks, steadying your head by placing a hand in front of your throat, “show your favorite boy what a good little slut you are for us.”
☆ halloween treat in the form of a standalone fic as a part of my kinktober event !
⌗ priest!jungsu x fem!reader
genre: smut w/ plot, taboo ( 18+ ) » 12.7k words
synopsis: curiosity is a dangerous thing. it’s the first spark that ever lit a fire. it’s what got eve in all kinds of trouble. it’s the reason why you and the young priest ever met, and keep meeting only for you to realise that the pull you feel has nothing to do with religion and everything to do with him
✎… DAY 29 / PRIEST KINK. slow burn, bold!reader, corruption kink, virgin!jungsu, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (f/m), praise kink, dacryphilia (they both cry), overstimulation, size kink, pet names, sexual fantasies and wet dreams, lots of dialogue | side characters: keeho (p1harmony) ; playlist: here
c.w ! blasphemy, bible verses, prayers, feelings of shame and guilt, mentions of cheating, loneliness and family issues | the reasons behind reader not believing in god are up to interpretation - can’t handle some of this content? don’t read it!
a.note ! special thank you to @chericherilvr for encouraging me to believe in my idea and to @alwayssizzlinggarden as known as my dear jungsu anon for being my beta reader till the end! this fic wouldn’t have happened without you ♡
One day you got worn down by your aunt’s endless praises of Father Kim Jungsu. Even your teenage cousins started nodding along and agreeing with her, saying he’s not like other priests.
So one Sunday you decided to tag along despite being skeptical of him - and Jesus Christ. You decided to slip inside the church out of curiosity; to see who’s the young man who has the entire town so fascinated.
One thing is for certain, you didn’t expect him to look like that… Warm, welcoming gaze, lips that moved patiently and intentionally, dark hair, stylishly done.
There was something quietly commanding about him. He had a powerful presence in the most modest, humble way, filling the room without demanding for attention. Yet, everyone around you was spellbound, clinging onto his words as candlelight shimmered across the church, giving him an almost magical glow.
Truthfully, it pissed you off.
Instead of going home feeling your curiosity met, your questions - answered, you walked out with a knot of irritation twisting in your chest. A sense of injustice almost.
It just didn’t feel fair. He wasn’t supposed to look like that - like the kind of man you’d spot at a party and want to lock lips with… like a face you’d see on a movie poster and imagine what the rest of his body looks like, naked.
Priests were supposed to be old and cold. Detached from the outside world. They have already lived a life and carry way more wisdom, after all. But he wasn’t old nor detached. He wasn’t safe. Surely not from your imagination and greed.
Against every bit of logic, you kept coming back.
You didn’t always understand what he preached and honestly you didn’t try to. What drew you wasn’t his theology, it was him. The way he spoke with such conviction. He was so devoted, it made you wonder if you were capable of devoting yourself and your entire existence to something… anything, really. It sounds kind of limiting and suffocating.
If you ever surrender like that, it wouldn’t be to a god you couldn’t see. It would be someone you can feel with your hands… whose heartbeat you can hear when you lay on his chest.
─── ♱
Next Sunday you stay unti the final blessing.
The congregation stands up, murmuring Amen in unison. Everyone moves slowly down the aisle for communion meanwhile you just wait, pretending indifference as mixture of rustling clothes and whispered prayers fill the air. One by one, they all approach him with open palms, and he greets each of them with the same gentle authority.
The Body of Christ. Amen. The Body of Christ. Amen.
You try not to stare at him as he stands at the front, chalice in one hand,, but you do - every gesture of his looks so calm yet as if it carries weight, it’s captivating. Tempting. Especially as the sunlight creeping in catches the edges of his black hair like a halo, making him seem ethereal and untouchable.
As the line thins, something pulls you forward. You wonder what it would be like to have him look at you that way too.
Your heartbeat quickens as you step closer to the altar, people nod and cross themselves in front of you.
And then, you’re standing before him. He looks up from the ciborium and your eyes meet; his are unreadable yet definitely not indifferent. Yours - restless and jittery. Suddenly the space feels unnaturally quiet… so quiet that you can hear the thud of your own heart, loud and insistent, like you’ve just been caught doing something you shouldn’t - at the wrong place and time - and now, it’s signaling you to run.
And maybe you have been caught red handed. You don’t stand here with any pure intentions.
“The Body of Christ.” He says steady. Automatic.
“Amen,” you whisper.
His hand moves forward, gaze landing on your mouth.
For a second you catch hesitation flashing in his eyes, but all you can do is stand still - you’re unsure what is expected of you to do or how to do it right. Somehow, your lips part anyway and he places the wafer on your tongue, not leaving you out of sight.
The gesture is nothing more than a ritual, but your breath catches like it holds a hidden meaning; your train of thought suddenly stutters as your mind tries to make sense of it… of why his hand movements make your skin hotter like they’re practicing magic.
The wafer dissolves almost instantly and you slowly open your eyes.
“May God bless you.” He says softly.
You step back, crossing yourself and walk away, lightheaded. The faint dryness that the wafer left on your tongue lingers weirdly, but you don’t hate it. There’s something hot rising inside you, distracting you from everything else - something that has no place there.
Not after you just went to church.
─── ♱
One Sunday, when mass ends, you decide to stay for a few minutes, just until the aisle clears, you tell yourself. The crowd spills toward the doors in a tide of polite chatter, your aunt among them, with the kind of smile she wears only on Sundays - when she believes the world is a little softer and more forgiving. She doesn’t even notice you’ve stayed behind. None of them do.
With crossed arms in front of your chest, you remain by the stained glass windows, like there’s something about the colors that has you too intrigued to leave just yet. You pin your eyes on the view, the light spilling across your skin in shades of gold and red, but truthfully you’re still chasing his voice.
You replay in your head the way he spoke earlier - confident, earnest, so alive… inspired, as though he built raw stories with hidden powers that could shift the world. But what you remember most isn’t the sermon, it’s the way he looked at people; like each face mattered. Including yours, and you don’t believe in anything.
“If you keep hanging around after mass,” the familiar voice calls out behind you, light yet enticing… uplifted by your presence, “I might think you’re converting and get excited.”
You turn to find him leaning back in one of the pews, perfectly at ease, with hands folded loosely as if this was the living room of his home and not a church heavy with candle smoke.
You let your eyes rest on him longer than you should. You think your expression is neutral, not sharpened by any emotions, but that’s far from the truth.
Father Jungsu knows what your aunt’s told him - that you don’t believe, that you sit through mass out of politeness, not faith. That you’re still “lost”, as if your doubts are a fever waiting for him to cure. She asked him directly once. “Please, guide her, Father. Make her listen,” she said, “you’re around the same age, after all. She’s going to trust you more than anyone else.”
He didn’t promise anything then, but he remembers her words. He tucked them away and kept you in mind each Sunday, not as a task or a project. He couldn’t stop noticing you anyway.
However, except disbelief, Jungsu recognizes something else in your eyes too. Curiosity? Restlessness? A quiet longing for something you haven’t named yet? Certainly, that’s not the gaze of someone who’s broken.
His lips curl slightly, but there’s no pity nor mockery behind the smile. He wonders what keeps pulling you back into a place you claim not to belong to. Maybe you don’t realise that you’re inching toward admitting your faults, or perhaps you’re simply demonstrating your provocation like a mischievous child.
“Why?” you finally break the silence. “My aunt and half the town already worship the ground you walk on.”
He tilts his head amused. “And what about you?”
The question lands lightly but his stare is so analysing, it holds you still.
“Worship isn’t something I’m interested in,” you reply at once; instead of matching his casual tone, your words come out defensive.
He chuckles, though - a reaction you did not expect. You’re taken aback by his laughter and how warm and unthreatening it sounds.
He shifts to the left, placing one palm beside him. “Sit.”
You blink at him, the weight of his command sinking in. As you settle next to him, suddenly you’re aware of his presence, his closeness… how magnetic it is despite the fact both of you are pretty much from two different worlds. Somehow, it makes you keep talking. It makes you want to push further.
“You just…” the thought slips out, “you don’t look like a priest at all.”
He laughs again, this time the easy sound makes your tummy tighten.
“Thank you.” He says, his eyes flickering discreetly as you adjust on the pew.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” you say flat.
“Honest…” Jungsu leans back, eyes still on you. “I like that.”
A brief pause comes between you and in that moment you realise that you can sense the faint scent of cedar coming from his body. Your neck warms up and you swallow thickly, forcing your eyes away from his collar.
Soon, he speaks, shifting your gaze back to him.
“But you should know… I worked hard to get here. The minimum age to become a priest is twenty-five years old. I was twenty-four when the bishop made an exception for me.”
“Oh…”
“I studied, I trained, I prayed… I made sure I was ready even if I was younger than the usual requirement.”
A faint spark of respect creeps in your chest despite yourself. “I didn’t expect all that,” you murmur.
“Well… it’s easy to underestimate someone because of physical appearance.”
Your lips curl a little bit as you shift to see him better. “So, let me get this straight… you’re younger than most priests, much younger… you’re better looking than all priests, and you’re wiser too?”
Jungsu rests an arm casually on the pew, speaking softer. “Wiser? That’s very generous.”
“Don’t pretend you heard half of what I just said,” you tease.
He suppresses a chuckle, then looks down at his lap. “As I said, I worked hard for it,” he says. “Discipline, study, prayer… and a lot of patience.”
You nod once, smirking with eyes upon his face. ”That’s all it takes to look like a movie star in a collar?”
The question makes him tilt in your direction and the air between you shifts. There’s a glint in his eyes as they hold yours, studying you in a way that makes your breathing slow.
The light mood of your teasing suddenly fades, replaced by something tense and heavy. His attention does that to you every time - when he catches your gaze across the pews, when he nods in greeting as he walks down the aisle… but this feels different now, dangerous. You hate that it scatters your thoughts, erasing every clever word you’ve ever known. You want to impress him, to show him that you’re sharp and confident.
“Looks alone don’t get you anywhere,” he says finally. His voice slips lower than usual, like it took him effort to push the words out.
He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he raises on his feet, emitting a small, short sigh.
“Why do you keep coming back?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you.
You fake a shrug in order to hide the fact you were not prepared for such question. “Curiosity.”
Father Jungsu smiles faintly; it’s a kind of smile that reaches his mouth halfway. “Curiosity,” he repeats, perhaps taking the moment to gather his thoughts. “That’s a dangerous one. It’s… the first spark that lit a fire. It’s what got Eve in all sorts of trouble.”
“And Adam,” you add as yout stand up.
His grin stretches, delighted you’d spar with him. Then, he takes a step forward as his tone dips into that thoughtful almost musical cadence he creates when speaking about faith.
“Still, maybe it isn’t such a bad reason to return.”
For the first time your tone softens slightly cautious. “Do you think God would want people who question Him here?”
“Curiosity means you’re still searching. Don’t look at it like it’s an enemy of faith, but rather like… a doorway to it. After all, curiosity is also what brought Moses to the burning bush.”
You blink, caught off guard by the calm convinction in his voice. “I… don’t know what the burning bush is.”
His lips curve as though he half-expected that answer. “When Moses saw a bush on fire… but it wasn’t burning away. He went closer to see why and that’s when God first spoke to him.”
You nod slowly, obviously not touched by the story. But there’s something about the way he tells it - not preachy or superior. It stirs something uncomfortably warm in your chest. You glance away, back to the stained glass as light crawls across the floor, and you try to gather your thoughts.
Jungsu still watches you, you can feel it. It’s both comfort and intensity all at once.
“Maybe you haven’t found your burning bush yet,” he says carefully, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not welcome here.”
You turn to him, lips parting to say something, but his smile disarms you.
“Go in peace,” he says, then adds almost under his breath: “Even if peace isn’t what you’re looking for yet.”
─── ♱
Father Jungsu feels like a narcotic; one that enters your system slowly and quietly. With every encounter, it becomes harder to break the cycle that you never even considered to start. Now you can’t find a way out.
The thoughts of him linger, multiplying as Sundays draw closer. At night, you find yourself crying into your pillow, wishing he was like every other man you know - careless, cruel, easy to reach and even easier to forget. But he isn’t. He cares deeply; he looks at the world as if it still deserves kindness. When his eyes rest on you, they see you, they understand.
You can’t say the same for the few people around you.
You can’t help but wonder why. You can’t be the only one who believes there’s another unspoken reason for this connection. You can’t be the only one who senses there’s something else… something neither of you dares to name because naming it would break everything he’s built his faith upon, everything he’s fought to protect.
You can’t be imagining this all because you’re too caught up with your loneliness and desperation.
You know it’s love.
─── ♱
Your aunt is out of town for the weekend.
It’s Sunday and you have a text with an invitation to a party from one of your friends still unanswered on your phone; she tells you names of familiar people and popular boys who are going to be there, but you don’t care about any of them. You stare at it for a while before locking the screen.
Nobody would know if you skipped mass. But as the hour draws closer, you find yourself grabbing your coat and stepping out into the gray late morning. You tell yourself you’re only going because the church feels so suspended from the rest of the world, but that’s not the full truth.
You’re going for him.
It’s a strange feeling, but obsessive. During the week everything feels dull. The joy on your friends’ faces around you lately doesn’t settle on yours. Conversations don’t quite reach you and sometimes feel exhausting just like peoples’ laughter that echoes too loud in the cafes you go to.
But when you’re in his presence, something changes.
You stop feeling like an outline of your body and you feel… like you’re slowly coming back to life. You don’t feel entirely at peace or safe, but you feel awake. As if a drug slipped into your veins that reminds you that you can do anything… be something to someone.
It’s dizzying, the rush he brings you. Especially on days when it lingers for longer and you can’t help but touch yourself under the sheets of your bed to calm your mind that swirls with images of him.
Now, sliding into your usual seat near the back with his melodious voice threading through the air as he stands at the front, turning a page in the missal, your pulse revives.
The more you think about it the more you realise this rush, this need opening inside you, is also terrifying. However, maybe exactly that frightening thrill is exactly what keeps you coming back. Not faith. Just the forbidden adrenaline boost he gives you with a single look.
The forbidden want to love him and be loved by him.
After mass, when you rise, ready to head towards the doors, a hand lands on your shoulder.
You turn, startled.
“You! I didn’t know you go here!”
It takes you a second to recognise her - a girl from high school that you haven’t seen nor spoken to in years.
You nod silently, and she doesn’t even wait for you to say something. She starts talking, loud and too quickly. Her nosiness hasn’t changed nor her grin.
“I would’ve never guessed you’re religious,” she blurts, eyes flicking with intrigue. “When did this happen? What brough you here?”
Your mind blanks. You feel cornered, exposed. Like she’s trying to take something out of you without permission.
“Did something dramatic happen that suddenly made you find faith?” She laughs before catching herself. “Sorry, that sounded awful. I’m just surprised. You never seemed like the church type.”
You force a smile. “People change I guess.”
“Apparently,” she says still amused. “I remember you always partying, and…”
“Everyone finds their way here in their own time.”
His familiar voice cuts through the noise, calm and unshakably kind. “Every person in this house is a child of God, whether they come in seeking answers or simply comfort.”
His gaze flickers to you, carrying a kind of reassurance that feels like it’s meant just for you.
Your friend’s smile falters on the instant when she recognises him. “Father Jungsu,” she murmurs, suddenly polite. “I didn’t mean to… I was just surprised to see her here, that’s all. We used to go to the same high school.”
He offers her a patient smile. “That’s nice.”
“I should probably get going,” she says, tucking a strand of her hair nervously.
“Of course,” he nods. “Go in peace.”
She mumbles a quick goodbye, heading toward the exit.
You exhale a breath, glancing away. Now it’s just the two of you standing there in the echoing quiet.
“Thank you,” you murmur.
“You looked like you needed rescuing.” He turns to you, gaze landing steady upon you, but slightly softer than earlier.
“I think I did,” you say, feeling your heartbeat quickening beneath your coat the second you lock eyes.
Everyone has left the church - there’s stillness around you that has you instantly acknowledging the electricity that passes between you.
You remember there are rules and vows to look away, but you don’t.
Then, he clears his throat quietly, glancing to the side briefly. “Your aunt is not here today.” He leads you both toward the doors.
“She’s out of town. She comes back tonight.”
You step outside. He walks beside you, just a step behind, hands clasped loosely in front of him. The church doors close with a dull echo.
“I’m glad you still decided to come.”
You lift your gaze from the ground, meeting his.
For a moment Jungsu feels like he’s seeing you as unguarded as never before; like something in you softens beneath his stare. Your beautiful features shift, gentler as the seconds pass by, and suddenly he’s exploring everything you hide from the world.
In that instant, he knows… that he’s not looking at the version everyone else gets, - but the one who’s been quietly trying to hold herself together. The one you never let anyone else see. The one reserved just for him.
However, your eyes flicker with a light that unsettles him - a reminder of how fragile a human can be when faced with certain temptation. How sometimes the heart can start speaking a language of its own.
He swallows the unwelcomed thoughts, and forces his vision towards the trees, the stone benches… “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out much longer.”
You nod, but you still can’t move. It’s not the cold wind stiffening your bones… it’s you unable to bring yourself to leave his presence.
“Can we stay here for a little while?” You ask, voice quieter than you expected, but laced in hope.
His expression falters. “That wouldn’t be appropriate.” He says carefully.
Your brows furrow as the wind caresses your face. “Why?” The word escapes you, small and childlike. “Why would it be wrong to just sit here for a few minutes? I’m not asking for anything of you.”
Father Jungsu breathes in slowly, eyes lowering. “Because this place asks something of me.” His voice is edged with something you haven’t heard before from him. It seems like he recognises it too; his body begins to betray him. This time he speaks slower and more measured, like he wants you to memorise his words. “People come here to pray… not to confuse what they feel with something else.”
You can’t answer. You just hold onto the eye contact as the wind stirs between you, light but cold.
Confused? You’re not confused, not when it comes to him. That’s the problem.
“If you need to talk about something, you can always come by my office. I hold visiting hours every Wednesday.”
“I don’t need to talk,” you murmur, shaking your head slowly. “I just don’t want to go home… I don’t want to be alone right now.” You hesitate to look at him, so you trace the edge of his sleeve, his calm, straight posture. “You’re the only one whose company I enjoy lately…”
His gaze softens, painfully so, but he keeps the cautious distance between you. “That’s kind of you to say,” he replies quietly. “But you should go home now.” He gives you a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “There’s a cold wind coming,” he adds and his tone slips almost pleading.
You get the urge to argue, to ask why it would matter so much if he stays by your side just for a few minutes… but you nod and turn to go.
As you walk away, his silthouette in the black robe is still standing there, unmoving when all he wanted is to reach for you.
The party is already loud and in full swing when you arrive. You know almost everyone, so you keep nodding and forcing smiles as you drift between small groups. Someone hands you a drink and you accept although you’re not in the mood for it. You take a few sips out of habit.
A familiar voice calls your name across the room, your friend waves you over.
By the time you make your way there, someone gets up from the couch, leaving a space right next to Keeho - the guy you used to work with at the pizza place last summer. You took orders over the phone, he made the deliveries, and the two of you made out behind the building during breaks. It never led to anything serious, not even sex; it was just something to spice up the long summer nights.
He drapes an arm casually along the back of the couch as you sit with your drink still in hand.
“For a second I thought you weren’t coming.” He says.
“Well, I’m here.”
“Thank God,” he flashes his brows at you, a grin tugging at his lips.
As the conversation rolls on, his hand keeps finding its way on your thigh, just resting there long enough to make his intentions clear.
When you’re halfway through your drink, he leans in, alcoholic breath brushing your ear. “This place is getting loud. Wanna see if upstairs is quieter?”
“That’s the best you could do?” You arch a brow.
“I didn’t need pick up lines last summer,” he laughs, unbothered.
That’s true.
He stands up, offering you a hand, and you take it.
Things escalate quickly - Keeho never wastes time; with him everything happens fast.
But as he touches you up and down, eagerly pushing your dress to your waist, something inside your mind switches. Another face flickers in the dark behind your eyelids. It’s not Keeho’s voice whispering at your ear.
Your brain works slower from the alcohol in your system, but it’s awake enough to call for him. The image of him that lately has been perminent in your mind creates some sick illusion in the warmth of this room, making every move, every breath and kiss mismatched.
His enticing eyes. His rousing voice. His collar. The line of his throat. His fingers… the way they trace the sign of the cross with such practiced grace, you could almost feel them on your skin, making their way up your inner thighs. All of these fragments send jolts of pleasure through you as Keeho invades your walls with a steady push.
You imagine Jungsu’s lips curving against your neck, calling you good. Eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure as he praises you like no one has ever done before. Your pussy is heaven, he’d say.
You don’t even try to escape it.
You let yourself sink into this fantasy, imagining it’s his weight pressing against you every time your arms tighten around Keeho’s shoulders.
They’re built similarly, or so you tell yourself. You can easily picture Father Jungsu at the gym, it’s probably one of his few interests as he’s the kind of man who believes discipline of the body keeps the mind healthy. In your imagination, his movements are rhythmic and hypnotic, like the way his knuckles tighten around the chalice, making you hold your breath until they relax again; his lean muscles flex and glisten under sweating slick skin… and he breathes heavy, but steady as he pushes through another rep. And you wish you could devour him. Tongue licking every part of him, every droplet of sweat and arousal. Teeth sinking into warm flesh.
A choked moan slips out of your mouth. That provokes Keeho to move faster, glancing down between your bodies as you pulse harder from the powerful creations of your imagination.
Your fingers rub circles on your clit as if they’re his.
Come for me, he’d say as you get pushed toward the edge. Come… sinful girl.
With his voice echoing in your head, his name between your teeth, you shake through your orgasm, head pressed back into the pillow.
The euphoria lasts a few seconds, and then… you feel hollow, empty. And you want to go home.
That’s when you realise how much has changed.
─── ♱
Jungsu sits at his desk, hands clasped tightly, lips moving in prayer that sounds more like a confession rather than a recitation.
“Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner,” he whispers. “Forgive me if I have failed You… in thought, in word… in silence.”
The rosary slips between his fingers before he catches it again. His palms are sweating. His collar feels too tight, his throat dry.
“Create in me a clean heart, O God.” He runs his thumb over the beads, pressing hard like penance. “Strengthen what is weak in me. Let Your will, not mine, be done.”
He draws in a long breath, but peace doesn’t come.
The stillness of his office feels heavy, pressuring, as though the walls are watching and listening. Like they know.
That sometimes he keeps his sermons short because he wants to talk to you. That sometimes he says things that aren’t meant for the room, but for your ears only.
That he notices the way you fold your hands, the way you bite your lip when you don’t understand the meaning of a word. That he has the exact shade of that red dress you wear beneath your coat memorised, the one that only ever appears when you’re feeling braver. It’s the shade of terror. The color of the need crawling under his skin when he thinks of you. The color staining everything when you visit him in his dreams - completely bare, exposed in all your glory… in his dreams you always smile at him, triumphant and alluring, like you’re a holy fire that he’s about to kneel for.
When he wakes up, it aches. This morning he almost lost control; he’s never felt so desperate and unstable in his life. Fortunately, he managed to endure, then he went for a run to clear his head a little bit.
They know, and they see it - the invisible thread pulling tight each time your eyes meet across the space between you.
Then, comes a knock at the door. Hesitant, and somehow unmistakable.
He doesn’t need to ask - he knows who it is. He can feel you in the air… your presence, your heat, your perfume, your quiet longing.
At first when he met you for the first time, he felt a spark. A small, innocent one, the kind of spark you get when you meet someone intriguing. But he didn’t expect that spark to quickly grow… so rich, so blinding.
He smooths the front of his black shirt, then opens the door.
There you are, standing in the front of the hallway, coat damp from the drizzle outside. Your breath is uneven, your eyes instantly darting past him toward the small crucifix on the wall.
“Hi,” you say quickly. “Sorry, I know it’s late. I just… needed to ask you something if that’s okay.”
He steps aside without hesitation. “Of course. Come in.” His hand silently invites you on the chair across from his desk.
“I wanted to ask about… confession,” you say, twisting fingers together. “As you can probably guess already, I’ve never done it before and… I don’t know how it goes. Are there any… rules? Limits? Things you aren’t supposed to say.”
“There aren’t limits. Confession isn’t about rules, it’s about honesty.”
“Even if it’s about… sex?”
Jungsu’s expression subtly shifts; there’s an unreadable tension darkening his eyes, and the flickering of the lamp only makes it more evident. “Yes,” he answers. “You can tell God anything.”
“And you’re there…” you lower your gaze, voice dipping softer, “listening.”
He nods. “But I’m only a witness. Everything passes between you and Him.”
You wonder if he really believes he could be just a witness to you.
You shift in your seat, taking a few seconds to calm your stirring emotions. Rubbing palms against your thighs, you remind yourself you don’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to know. After all, you don’t feel guilty for your feelings or desires.
But this… this isn’t just lust anymore. You’re in love. And it’s the quiet, terrifying kind of love that’s been building without your permission. You also feel admiration, not just for who he is, but for how he makes you want to be better… for the way he sees you even when you don’t want to be seen.
And now, standing here with your heart trembling in your chest, you know - if you want to be loved back, you’ll have to tell him everything.
“Uhm…” you force a chuckle as nerves cripple at your neck. “This is going to sound silly, but… can we practice here for a minute?” You finally dare to look at him only to see that his expression has changed again. It’s not cold or disapproving, but it’s definitely sharper. “I don’t think I’m ready yet, but I’d like to know what it feels like.”
Just now, you realise he’s not wearing his vestments, only the black clerical shirt and slacks, sleeves neatly buttoned at the wrist. The small square of white at his throat draw your eyes like a magnet, simple yet hard to look away from.
He stands up and carefully moves his chair next to yours. He sits, hearing you take a deep breath. The sound as well as the sudden closeness makes his pulse stutter. His broad shoulders tense.
“Just be honest,” he manages, hands folding slowly as he looks at the crucifix. “What weighs on your heart?”
You lower your gaze to your lap as your lips part, but it takes a moment for the words to find their way out. By the time you speak, your mouth has gone dry. “I feel lost… and lonely most of the time. I have friends, but it’s like I’m there without really… being there. I don’t fit anywhere anymore.”
His lips press into a thoughtful line. The silence is free of any pressure, but it hums with something else. Nonetheless, you go on, as it gives you more courage.
“Ever since I started coming here,” you continue, your voice tighter, but honest. “I’ve been feeling… alive. I haven’t felt like this in such a long time.” The words pull themselves from somewhere deep inside you, and it starts to make breathing easier. “The thing is… It’s not because of God. I don’t know if I believe or not.”
He manages a small nod.
“It’s because of you, Father…”
“You don’t have to call me Father if you don’t…”
“No, I want to,” you’re quick to reassure him, desperate to show your growing devotion to him. “I believe in you, Father.” Then, you risk a glance at him.
He doesn’t look at you back. His eyes flicker away in an opposite direction as he takes a breath; a breath of restraint that hides behind many things including fear.
Soon, he forces a faint smile. “If you see something good here it’s not mine to claim.”
“Can I ask you a question?” you keep your gaze on him.
“Yes, you can.”
“Why is it,” you murmur, sitting straight again, “that if you look close enough, you can find the physical kind of love in almost everything? Art, literature, in myths… even in religion. It’s like it’s everywhere.”
Jungsu stills, eyes unfocused for a moment. He’s always had an answer for everything, but now his silence feels purposeful. The pause between you buzzes, and your pulse falters as you wait for whatever might come next.
Finally, he speaks: “That’s… the oldest language we have for creation.” He swallows, as if steadying himself, chasing the rest of his thought before it slips away. “Before there were words, there was touch. Before prayer, there was longing… to be joined with something greater than yourself.”
“I like the sound of that,” you say softly, resonating with his words.
Jungsu’s throat tightens as he swallows again. He feels heat slowly crawling up his neck and he fixes his gaze back on the wall across from him.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he nods. “Would you like to continue?”
You agree, drawn to the slow cadence of his careful voice.
“Two nights ago I went to a party where I slept with someone,” you admit, steady and calm. “We had sex and…” your tone stutters at the end and you take a brief pause.
A shadow of concern crosses Jungsu’s face. Anticipation settles in his stomach as he fights something dark threatening to spill where it’s supposed to be nothing.
You draw a breath that barely reaches your lungs. “I’m just going to say it.” You exhale, eyes fluttering shut. “The entire time… all I could think about was you. I was picturing you… because I kept wishing it was you touching me, not him. I’ve been thinking about you, Father… so much it hurts.”
You slowly open your eyes. There’s heavy silence.
Jungsu folds his hands firmly, murmuring a quiet prayer for guidance. God, grant me the words to help without failing in my duty…
“Even now,” you continue, voice unsteady as suddenly your thoughts flicker faster than you can catch them, “I wish you were holding me in your arms, I… I want you. I’ve never felt this way before for anyone.”
The confession hangs between you, spreading heat in the air, melting the edges of reason. Until all that’s left are the suffocating, corrupting feelings.
There are some sentences and prayers hovering on Jungsu’s tongue, but the fire rising in his body makes it hard to think, hard to breathe. When his lips finally part, his brows furrow, like he doubts every word that crosses his mind right now.
“You said you believed in me,” he says slowly, but there’s slight roughness in his voice that gives it away - that he could raise it higher if he was allowed to. “Why didn’t you seek my guidance when you were struggling to find peace in your thoughts?”
“Because I knew thatt if I came to you, I’d want more than just a conversation,” you admit, honest. “I would’ve wanted… everything. Your comfort, your kiss, your touch, all of it.”
It’s the truth, and saying it out loud feels like tearing a wound open, but it’s also satisfying. The hunger that’s taken root inside you has grown so strong it keeps you awake at night, pulsing between your legs at every thought that has to do with him.
“I thought that if I looked for relief somewhere else, the desire might finally leave me alone,” you continue, but then… the thought of him believing you could ever choose someone else over him makes you sick. Before the silence stretches too far, you add almost desperately: “But it didn’t help. It only made me realise how real this is… what we have between us. It can never go away. Father, I—”
“Stop.”
The command lands like a whisper, but your stomach still turns.
Jungsu finally turns to you, his eyes dark in disbelief and something dangerously close to longing. He notices it - the absence of shame. The lack of guilt and regret in your confession. If anything, this lifted something heavy off your chest.
You’re a sinner.
And when it comes to him… he feels like he’s slowly going mad. His mind begins to swirl with thoughts he could never dress in holy language no matter how hard he tries.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” His words are almost forced, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.
“I thought we are practicing for my confession.” You say, not breaking eye contact. “So I’m confessing.”
His pulse skitters as his temperature increases from your gaze alone. Your yearning, no—your greed, lands warm and provoking, digging a wound straight into his soul.
He utters your name softly, holding onto the last bits of patience he has left. “You know this… whatever this is… can’t happen.”
“But it’s real. I know what I feel.”
Jungsu exhales shakily, his head drops low.
You eyes drift to his lap; his hands are trembling against the rosary beads, betraying everything he’s trying to hold back.
Slowly, you reach for him. Your fingertips graze his knuckles in a quiet attempt to steady him. “You’re shaking.”
The tension in his jaw, the restraint in his shoulders… it’s almost painful to watch. It’s as if every muscle in his body is working against his instincts.
“You’re tempting a man of God.” He says in an agonised voice.
“You make love sound like a sin.”
He finally turns to you; his breath escapes as his lips part. “You have sinned.” The words leave his mouth sharp, like an accusation.
“Maybe,” you reply, tone calm. “But I don’t feel guilt about it.”
The simplicity of your response catches him off guard. There’s uncertainty in his eyes as he searches your face for remorse and finding none.
His fingers twitch beneath yours, caught between wanting to grip your hand and forcing himself not to.
Then, you say: “You can touch me.”
Upon hearing this, Jungsu’s eyes drop to your mouth. And they rest there, observing the appealing color and shape.
“I would love for you to touch me,” you whisper, entrancing him even more with the way your lips move.
In that moment, something stirs in his stomach before settling below his belt. The feeling isn’t entirely unfamiliar, but it’s tied to other emotions - shame, guilt, fear. Nevertheless… a brief touch wouldn’t be so bad, right?
A brief touch, he tells himself. He’ll touch you only for a second. That’s all he needs - just a second to feel your skin, your warmth.
Finally, for the first time, he reaches toward you.
His hand slips from your palm, then slowly lifts to your face, brushing fingertips against your skin. The contact sets every nerve in his body on fire, and that heat pulls him closer.
You’ve never known comfort quite like this - the rough warmth of his palm tracing the side of your face, slowing until your breath matches the rhythm of his touch. Your head tilts, surrendering to it, your whole body easing as if it finally remembers what love feels like.
Your eyes flutter shut and Jungsu swallows thickly; his mouth waters in a way that has little to do with the thirst for salvation he should be feeling.
Before he can resist, his thumb brushes your lips; touch that feels both featherlight and enough to part them slightly open.
When he speaks, his voice is so small and weak, that it doesn’t feel like it’s his own. “This… doesn’t feel right.” Yet, he presses down on your lower lip, cherishing the view of your teeth, your tongue bold enough to flicker out and wet his thumb.
Your gaze lifts up. There’s a new light in his eyes, a quiet steadiness.
“Then… what does it feel like?” You ask softly.
Jungsu takes a moment. Because how do you name something that feels both ruin and relief?
“It feels,” he murmurs, hand shifting below your jawline, “dangerously close to it.”
“Keep going,” you say, pulse skittering as he slowly leans in, “please…” you trail off, getting dizzier in the charged air between you. His touch slides to explore the line of your neck, warming you up further.
Jungsu knows he should turn away.
But his body’s instincts are stronger in this internal battle, and before he can stop himself, his mouth touches your cheek - not for a kiss, but a light touch, so he can gain a little taste.
He lets out a blissfull sigh; the drags of his lips are slow, measured, as desire and reason twist within him. “You’re ruining me,” he mutters against your skin, tone laced in desperation. “You don’t realise the damage you cause me.”
His lips are soft, lingering so tender and warm. They move lower, studying you, caressing you as your breathing picks up excitedly. “You’re here to plague me,” he continues near your ear.
He can smell your perfume, the scent of your lotion creeping through your heat. It makes his body react - his manhood thickens, pressing against the placket of his pants.
As if you can feel the fire looming in him, your hand slides along his thigh - not so much to comfort him, but to encourage him to surrender. “I long for you… every day.”
Jungsu breathes shakily as he presses his forehead against yours. Suddenly, he cups your face with both hands, like he’s about to kiss you, the cold beads brush your skin. “We have to pray,” he says, his voice rising a notch though unstable. There’s some kind of noise buzzing non-stop in his head, as if Satan himself is whispering at his ear.
Your palm rubs against his thigh, drawing light patterns in the direction where you can guess he’s pulsing for your touch.
His large hands stay on you, steady and unyielding, as his breath fans warmly across your face. He keeps you close as if he’s afraid you might slip away, even while every part of him screams to release you.
And then… the space between you disappeares - his lips press against yours, light and unrushed; like a silent confession of everything he can’t say out loud. A kiss so soft and brief it feels like a plea.
When he pulls back, his grip tightens, grounding you where you are. His voice slips, more controlled yet still weak at the edges. “Please take away my guilt and wipe my slate clean with the blood of Jesus Christ…”
It’s hard to focus on everything he’s saying, though. Your thoughts are still tangled somewhere in the lingering warmth he left on your lips. It’s dizzying, the way something so gentle can feel so immense - especially when you’ve been dreaming of it night after night.
Mid-prayer and with no hesitation, you kiss him back. A moment passes as your lips stay on his mouth and Jungsu allows it. He holds your warm face in his hands, drowning in the thrill of your touch.
He doesn’t understand it, but his knees weaken, his chest tightens… and that throbbing ache, the one that woke him up this morning after he saw you in his dream, returns, fluttering in his core. It’s like you shifted the rhythm of his whole body with just a single touch.
“I am a sinner in need of my Savior…” he continues after you detach to breathe in.
“We don’t need to…” you try to tell him, but he doesn’t hear it.
His voice is hushed and quick as if that’s going to help him escape the depraved lust washing over him.
With foreheads resting against one another, you ghost one hand over his slacks, fingers brushing his prominent boner. The on-going prayer falters as a stuttering moan crawls out of his throat. The sound enters your mouth, so sweet, you immediately want to hear it again.
For a moment you’re so focused on the different changes in his voice that you don’t realise when his hand, wrapped in the rosary, shifts to your waist.
Your eyes, glossy with desire, peer into his dark gaze in a frenzy as the beads disappear under your sweater. His fingertips travel up your back, bringing goosebumps across your skin. Your breath comes out in shutters at the way he caresses the curve of your spine, beads sliding down your figure while his lips slow the rhythm.
You can taste the insatiable desire, the need for pleasure and love on his tongue as the phrases unfold slowly, voice barely audible, almost matching the easy pace of his fingers exploring your bare skin.
Your temperature is heightened, a warm slickness seeping through the fabric of your panties when the final word finally comes, soft like an exhale. Amen.
When your eyes meet, it feels like the world suddenly tilts, like everything outside this office feels so far away… and too cold in comparison to the space between you that’s warm and electric.
The echo of his touch burns on your skin when he pulls his hand, glancing away.
The clench of your heart when you see him rise to his feet is unspeakable. The warmth of the moment collapses into the distance now stretching between you.
He speaks with his back to you, because he’s afraid that facing you will undo whatever resolve he somehow managed to finally build. “You don’t need to be perfect to be forgiven. God hears honesty… before anything else.”
For a long breath there’s only silence. Then, his tense shoulders rise and fall as though even the air inside the room is troubling him.
He turns, but his eyes never make it to your face; they hover somewhere near the floor, guilty and hesitant. When he lifts a hand to trace the sign of the cross, you know - you have to leave.
─── ♱
The rain greets you cold and unrelenting as you step out of the restaurant. In your rush to escape the scene that unfolded at the table, the judgemental murmurs you left behind, you forget to grab your coat.
You love the rain; it soothes and clears your mind, but not tonight. You can still see it - your aunt, half-hidden beneath the awning, kissing passionately another man that isn’t your uncle. Twenty minutes later, she returns to your table with a steady smile, explaining it away as an urgent work call.
The woman who preached virtue and family daily.
Your mind barely catches up as you walk fast, dress clinging wet to your body as each step leads you closer to the only person you can think of… the only one worth holding on to.
Father Kim Jungsu.
You don’t how much time passes, but before you know it, you see his window, glowing in the night with a faint yellow light.
You don’t even think about it - you run up the steps, heart pounding, and you ring the bell.
When the door opens, the warm light spills out over your figure - drenched, shivering, breathless. On the other hand, he’s standing there, wearing a soft, dark gray sweater and blue denim jeans - casual, relaxed and so ordinary. It makes him even more… real and present.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe as you glance away from his eyes widened from distress. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Instantly, his expression shifts from many emotions washing over him all at once. Confusion, concern, apprehension… something softer.
“It’s all right,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “You’re safe here.”
The door clicks shut behind you and the world outside - the rain, the noise, your aunt… all fade into a distant blur. Then, his calm voice speaks, anchoring you.
“Take your time.”
He moves quietly, slipping into the next room and returning with a zip-up hoodie, just a few shades lighter than his sweater.
When you hesitate, caught mid step, he steps close behind you, guiding your arms into the sleeves.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs with a low, soft voice. “Come, sit if you need to.”
You sink into one of the kitchen chairs, your muscles finally relaxing in the comfort of his hoodie.
Jungsu hands you a towel, then proceeds moving around the small space, glancing back at you. “Would you like something to drink?” he asks. Now, his voice is slightly more tense, but still carrying that undertone of care you learned to love.
“Whatever you have,” you reply. “Thank you.”
He nods, pouring a cup of milk from the fridge, then sets it carefully on the table in front of you. The gesture is simple yet it feels intensely personal, and your chest flutters.
Jungsu lingers near the counter, eyes flicking toward you every now and then, silently checking if you’re okay. He watches you slowly lift the cup to your mouth, and it’s like for a moment time itself slows around you. When you take a sip, he swallows, mirroring you without thinking. He watches the small tilt of your head, the soft exhale that follows when you place the cup back to its place. He watches you lick your lips, and his mouth waters as he remembers their softness… how they welcomed his tongue with ease.
He turns his gaze, ashamed of the thoughts he cannot seem to quiet; disgusted with himself for thinking of anything other than the fact that you’re hurting.
“Better?” he asks finally.
You nod, pressing the towel against your chest before running it slowly down your leg. “We went out for dinner, family friends and all,,” you begin; the event already feels like a distant memory, but you can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. “At one point, she excused herself and didn’t come back for… twenty minutes. So I went to check on her, and…” you pause, exhaling shakily, “she was with someone.”
“Your aunt?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. Nothing else could have left you this shaken.
“Yeah,” you let out a soft, unsteady laugh, looking down as you grip the towel. “I’ve never seen her smile like that.”
Jungsu lets out a slow breath, crossing his arms as he moves to the other side of the room. He stops near the darkened window, shoulders tense.
You swallow hard before continuing. “She looked so happy. Living an entirely different life behind my back.” You pause again as the hurt twists deeper. “All this time she preached to me about sin, purity and honesty… and she’s been cheating on my uncle.”
Your voice cracks and the rest of your sentence breaks off.
Jungsu turns immediately at the sound, all of his hesitation gone. The sight of you trying to stop your tears pulls him forward before he can even think; the distance between you closing in an instant.
He’s beside you before you can look up, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “People fail,” he says softly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter what’s left of you.. “Even the ones who teach us not to.”
You press a hand to your face, trying to stop the shaking. “I don’t care that she’s seeing someone. It’s the lies… everything I believed just—”
The tears come fast, heavy, spilling past your fingers.
Jungsu reaches out, wrapping fingers around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, catching them as they keep coming.
“I don’t understand,” you choke out.
“You don’t have to make sense of it rght now,” he whispers. “Just breathe.”
But you can’t. You gasp with an aching sound, the towel slipping to the floor.
Jungsu pulls you close, your face pressing into his chest. His sweater smells faintly of detergent, and you cry harder - deep, painful; the kind that comes when you’ve been holding too much inside for too long.
Kneeling in front of you, he circles your waist. His arms are steady and patient, holding you together while you fall apart. For a while, there’s only the sound of your sobs, echoing in the small kitchen.
When your breathing finally starts to calm, he tilts his head upon the quiet sound of your voice; it’s hoarse, lower than usual…broken in a way that makes his throat close.
“It’s always the same. I keep hoping, but…” you pause, feeling him tighten his hold on you. “Everyone lies… It hurts.”
This is when it hits him the hardest - the flash of anger, sharp and sinful in his chest. He’s not supposed to feel like this. He’s always been taught that anger is pride in disguise, that judgment isn’t his to hold. But he’s angry.
He’s angry at the people who broke you like this. He hates that you’re sitting here, crying because the ones you trusted most chose deceit. And worst of all, he hates that he’s angry.
His hand moves gently along your back as your tears soak through his sweater. He wants to promise you that he’ll keep all the pain away from you, that he’ll make it right somehow, but he knows he can’t.
And yet… he can’t stop the tought burning inside him. If God won’t protect you, he will.
“You don’t deserve any of this,” he mutters, rough but quiet. “They don’t get to hurt you like that.”
You pull back, your eyes finally meet. His words hang between you like a prayer and a promise at once.
There’s a tremor behind his gaze. He’s fighting the part of him that feels too much, that wants too much, and doesn’t know if that makes him a sinner or simply a human.
For a moment you can’t speak. The man who inspires devotion in a room full of strangers now kneels before you. And there’s flicker of protectiveness in his eyes, of frustration at himself for not being able to shield you from the world.
He lifts a hand toward you, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as your heart keeps thudding against your ribs; the gesture a vast contrast to the evident tension in his jaw.
“If I could take it from you, I would,” he says. “All of it.”
You look at him, really look, and you realise it - despite all his faith and restraint, he’s just as lost right now as you are.
“I know,” you whisper, nodding once. Your eyes are hot and heavy, half-lidded as you take in how beautiful he is.
His eyes flick downward for half a second, like he’s silently asking for strength or forgivness.
However, he drags his fingetips along your leg instead - slowly, from your ankle to your knee.
You’re not wearing tights, and his breath falters at the nice feeling of your bare skin, the edge of your white cotton sock brushing against him. It all sends a shiver down his spine he can’t disguise.
He angles his head and his lips trace a slow, deliberate path upward, making your skin prickle. Parting them just enough, he drags them up your inner thigh, trailing warm, open mouthed kisses.
His hands find your hips, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress as his mouth moves more fluently.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes into the softness of your thigh.
You stay silent. You’re not sure who he’s apologising to - you, himself or God who’s supposed to be in the room with you right now.
You swallow hard, feeling your body flush with heat as his tongue grazes your plush flesh.
The way his heavy breathing gets closer and further between your legs sends a tingling sensation to your core, and you bite the corner of your lip, unable to stay still anymore.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping half a note, tender in a way that has your tummy swirling. “You’re so devastatingly beautiful… I don’t want to see you hurt.”
When he lifts his gaze, your heart almost stops beating from the gleam inside it, a mixture between hunger and affliction. For a breathless second you’re certain you’re dreaming, that you’re only imagining his words, his touch, but the warmth spreading through you as he draws you closer says otherwise.
His hands lift up the hem of your dress, revealing the most intimate parts of you. The view of your panties has him swallowing thickly as you spread your legs for his stare. Before you can say anything, he plants an open mouthed kiss just above the waistband, then another one, even more sensual and slow - on your clothed clit.
Then, his tongue dips out slowly, dragging up your folds.
Peering through your lashes, you watch his eyes flutter shut, unfamiliar lust radiating off him like perfume the more he allows his tongue to move. You feel it lick again, then again, flattening, grinding in the center of your folds, tasting, exploring this new and thrilling territory.
A small sound of bliss escapes him before Jungsu can stop it, his throat going dry as he can feel a certain wetness starting to form. His lips suck through the barrier, making every muscle in your body draw tight like a bowstring.
You let out a breathy moan just before he pulls back to see the darkening fabric. He stares at it with heavy eyes, then gently presses his fingertips to feel it, immediately looking up as you whine at the motion.
You’re completely mesmerised by the way he looks at you.
“I want to make you feel better,” he says, applying light pressure as he strokes up and down. When he bumps into your clothed entrance he can almost feel it pulse as he watches how your body responds. “I want to make you feel good.”
Within a minute, your underwear is gone, your fingers tangled in his dark hair as you slouch in the chair. Every drop of arousal that leaks out of your cunt is devoured like a sweet nectar, the sloppy motions sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“So sweet… you taste unreal.” Jungsu gasps in between your puffy folds, enjoying the way you tremble, legs shaking around him with each roll of his tongue. “I can’t believe how sweet you are.”
In awe, he cannot stop whispering praises directly into your heat. The fan of his excited breath makes your stomach knot tighter while one of his hands removes your socks to massage your feet.
“I’m… so c-close…” you whimper, hips slightly rolling against his face. “Please…”
Your shaky voice has Jungsu detaching his lips, reddish and shiny with your slick. His eyes darken in a way you’ve never seen before as he takes in the sight of your dripping pussy, your small hole fluttering.
“Everything about you is so pretty,” he murmurs, inhaling your scent as he quickly leans in again, capturing your sensitive bud; he sucks and twirls around it, making your spine arch in pleasure.
His hands shift back to your hips to steady you. The tip of his tongue swirls deliberately as he carefully studies your body language, memorising every action that makes you shudder, squirm and moan louder.
Feeling him bring a finger to your entrance, you grip the table with one hand for support. He only traces up and down, too wary to push into it.
“Put it in,” you plead, tugging at his sweater. You’re too drunk on the rush to consider what he might think of you for asking so shamelessly. “Father, please… I need it.”
In an instant, Jungsu slips through your walls to meet your request - patient, slowly stretching the area while giving you what you need to near ultimate pleasure. The grief on your face still lingers in his mind and now every movement he makes carries a quiet promise - that you won’t have to feel that way anymore. He wants to replace every tear you shed with warmth instead.
“Fuck—” your head lulls backwards.
And he can’t quite grasp it… how incredibly rousing he finds you like this - spread wide open, cursing freely, choking on your words like he’s draining the air from your lungs. All for him - a man of the cloth.
But that’s not exactly how you see him, is it? You see past that - past the collar, the discipline and his calm exterior.
He begins moving his digit inside you, back and forth. It feels so hot and tight, he inhales sharply as something in his own core pools. “Like this?” he asks, glancing at you with glazed over eyes.
You nod twice, unable to do any other movement except rock into his touch, urging him deeper and faster. “Yes, just like that…” Then, unknowingly, your other hand reaches out, caressing the side of his face.
Your toes curl in the air the moment he dives back in, tongue moving in a faster rhythm this time. Below, you begin to throb hard, like you have a second heartbeat. Your moans of pleasure echo in the air, growing high pitched by the second.
Captivated by the state of enrapture you’re falling into, Jungsu smoothly pushes one more finger inside you, making you mewl at the wider stretch. His head moves side to side, tongue applying the perfect friction on your sensitive spot as his spit dribbles down your cunt.
“I’m gonna—” your breath hitches, your eyes squeezing shut.
Jungsu keeps his tongue rolling, savoring the taste of your arousal.
The pulsing around his fingers as they rub your walls intensifies when you cry out, going completely rigid for a moment - only to quiver against his mouth once the rush buzzes through you. His free hand roams along your thigh as your legs close around his head - not to stop you, but to silently assure you that he’s got you.
The kitchen is silent for a while; there’s warm thickness that doubles as you both acknowledge what you have just done.
Jungsu straightens his back, face decorated with a tint of pink blush. The same hand that brought you on your orgasm stops to rest on his thigh, unsure what follows next.
That’s when you notice the bulge, trapped by the confines of the denim.
You guide your foot forward, rubbing in light patterns; your mouth waters as you picture how flushed and hard he must be.
Jungsu can only stare down helplessly. So many perverted images flood his mind, all revolving around you; images he shouldn’t be welcoming in his head let alone consider.
But he allows them to unfold. A rush of precum leaks from his cockhead, staining his underwear.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” You murmur softly, moving back your foot.
You catch an uneven breath leave his mouth as he fails to meet your eyes. So you stand up, still in his zip-up hoodie. “I should go,” you hear yourself utter.
However, a firm grip around your arm stops you from taking another step.
In a matter of seconds, Jungsu raises to his feet, pressing you against the edge of the wooden table. His mouth, warm and glistening under the light, captures your lips. His hands cup your face, securing you in place as his thumbs brush your cheeks stained with dried tears.
He’s never felt this kind of hunger before - the kind that burns through reason as you moan between his sensual kisses.
He refuses to loosen his grip when you tug at his belt, unbuckling it with swift movements; the clink of metal rings out in the othewise silent kitchen.
Soon, his cock springs free, bouncing up toward his abdomen. When he pulls back, exhaling deeply from the addictive taste of your lips, he looks down, eyes widening at how close your hand is.
The desire overpowers the feeling of trepidation, and he makes no move to stop you.
The sexual frustration is dizzying as he watches you wrap fingers around his erection, stroking with a confident yet gentle motion. His jaw falls slack, breath hitching as you don’t shy away from repeating the steady movements, magnifying the heat curling inside him.
“It’s my turn to take care of you, now…” you whisper lovingly near his trembling lips. You wish you can memorise every small twitch his face makes for you in this current moment, so handsome and rapturous. “Has another girl ever touched you like this before?” you ask at once.
You bring your fist higher, smearing the collected precum along his length. The uninterrupted action pulls out a long, desperate moan out of him before he shakes his head, exhaling a small no.
Relief blooms in your chest as you realise he’s never had something even close to this with anyone else. It’s you and only you. The thought makes your heart swell with warmth and contentment.
This moment, this connection… it’s entirely yours.
Before he can stop himself, with palms still on your face, Jungsu starts panting your name. His brows knit together, sweat begins to trickle down his temple as he feels himself losing all composure because of your experienced touch.
Your eyes do not leave him out of sight, he looks and sounds absolutely captivating. That same sense of purpose you feel when listening to him during mass floods back; stronger, deeper. Swiftly, you take a second to spit in your palm before proceeding the strokes. “Yeah? Feels nice?”
Overwhelmed, Jungsu lets his head fall on your shoulder, unable to look at you as he’s on the verge of breaking. A brief whine drops from his tongue as a response - one of many irrepressible noises that won't stop escaping his throat the more your grip moves, pleasing and slick; it’s starting to speed up, wet noises erupting from below where he doesn’t dare to look.
Heat rises to his cheeks. He feels like he can’t hold it in much longer, like something inside him is going to be teared apart any second now. “I can’t,” he stutters breathless, but his thought ends there.
His voice shatters weakly, an elongated whine heating your neck as the pressure bursts. For a moment the sensation almost has him lose his footing, his mind going blank.
The warm arousal shoots out of his swollen tip, trickling down your hand, a few white streaks landing messily on your dress. Your fist eases before stopping completely, allowing the relief to settle under his skin, warm, heavenly.
As much as his dick twitching in your palm, and his arousing moans ringing at your ear turned you on, nothing can compare to the thrilling look in his dazed eyes where faith and sin intertwine - like he’d take anything you decide to give him, and nothing can stop him.
With vision fixated upon him, you move on your knees. His hoodie drops to the tiled floor, then your mouth welcomes his still hard length, enveloping him in an imensive warmth. Your lips wrap tightly around the slick head, sucking every bead of arousal lingering.
Jungsu moans shakily at the sharp sensation, not thinking as his hand fists in your hair. You, on the other hand, hum blissfully as you savor his salty taste.
“Ah—” his body trembles as your lips detach with a lewd, wet pop, tongue flicking out to swirl around the swollen tip.
He’s unable to take his eyes off you as you slowly lean forward, trying to fit more of him into your mouth. The stretch of your cheeks looks almost painful as you control your breath, eyes fluttering shut as you focus on relaxing your throat.
Jungsu’s jaw flexes as another inch disappears through your puffy lips, clouding his mind with a fog. Then, feeling sweat across the back of his neck, he grabs the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the table behind you.
“Sweetheart…” His touch returns, stroking the top of your head gently. “Is this alright?” The words stumble steadier than he expects.
He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing an unstable sound. It’s undeniable - the wave of rapture your mouth provokes. But the thought of that causing you even the smallest discomfort twists something inside him.
Slowly, you drag your lips back to his cockhead. Then, you unwrap them through a light suck.
It takes you a second to realise you’re staring up at him, eyes wide and hazy, heart tripping over itself from the sight of his naked chest. But then… sweetheart. You’ve been called that before, but not like this.
The tension in the air shifts when Jungsu sees the corners of your mouth curve.
“I love it,” you reply softly, making his breath still.
You stand, finally stripping from your dress. The cloth slips from your shoulders, pooling soundlessly at your feet.
Jungsu’s gaze follows every inch revealed, almost hypnotised. He doesn’t move at first, only his throat bobs when he swallows, hands flexing at his sides.
Then, he twitches in the air, blood flowing into his cock again.
You can’t deny the rush that floods your chest when the realisation hits - you’re standing bare before him, completely exposed. A shiver of nervousness runs through you until he steps closer, like a man approaching something sacred. In one effortless motion, he lifts you into his arms, and every flicker of doubt melts away, replaced by the dizzying thrill of his hold.
You hardly get a glimpse of his room - you’re gently tossed on his bed, the mattress dipping beneath you as he follows. He completely steals your focus; toned stomach, muscled arms, warm chest heaving in an excited rhythm as he hovers over you. His dark hair falls over his forehead when he leans in, searching for your lips.
“You drive me crazy,” he breaks the silence before capturing you in another breathtaking kiss.
Lightheaded, you place hands on the sides of his neck. It feels like it’s just the two of you in this world, and you want to stop time, so you can feel like this forever.
When he inserts himself inside you, the first few seconds it feels overwhelming - too much, too big, - but then, it feels perfect, like he’s made for you.
He starts off slow, massaging your gummy walls with precise, sensual slides that allow you to get used to the stretch. However, soon, he begins thrusting like a man who’s losing all composure.
“So… ah! You’re so—t-tight!” he tries to steady his voice, but the effort breaks with every word he manages to say. “It feels amazing… like you were made for me.” He buries his face against your neck, trying to silence his shaky moans that escape with each hit of his hips.
His body is sweating, clinging to you desperately as you hold onto him, nails sinking into his muscular back.
Each time his tip reaches that sweet spot inside you, it feels like the air is being knocked out of your lungs; your pussy walls spasm, sucking him in tighter and tighter.
The sounds of skin against skin intensifies as the heat between you makes everything around you feel like a blur. Soon, the rush will be too much to bare; you can feel it in the way your core scorches.
“Jungsu—”
Jungsu’s brain is hazy, as if all of his thoughts turned into smoke the second he slipped inside you. The only thing reaching him is the filthy sounds your fluids create every time your bodies connect deeply, reminding him over and over again that this is reality. There’s no coming back from this.
But then, the sound of your strained voice whining his name cuts through the haze, grounding him completely.
He hums, searching for your eyes. His body slows, your hands grasp onto him tighter. “Am I…” he says, low and hot. “I’m sorry, am I going too fast? Did I hurt you?”
Swallowing, you slightly shift your hips, already needing him as deep as possible. “Don’t stop, please… it’s perfect.”
He takes a second longer to look at you before confessing: “I like hearing you say my name.” His lips press gently to your forehead, your eyes closing at the comforting gesture.
Almost immediately, he revives the needy rhythm, hips slamming sloppily into you. The sounds are lewd and harsh, clashing with his shaky pants and whimpers. “I’m sorry,” he says again despite your assurance, a tear falling from the corner of his eye.
The need for relief he felt earlier becomes nearly unbearable, washing over the lingering guilt; the pleasure you offer him with your body being only one can dream about is enough to make him want to cry.
Your voice cracks with emotion beneath him as he fastens further, your nails dragging rough lines on the surface of his back.
With the current sensation stirring inside him, with the way he throbs, lost deeper and deeper through every new drag - he won’t be able to stop a second time even he wanted to.
“I’m sorry, my dove.” He whispers in a rush, every breath a tremor. “Just… can’t h-help it—can’t get enough of you.” His lips brush against your cheek, catching another tear; yours or his own, he can’t tell.
He shifts backwards, his muscled back suddenly straight, flexing beneath stinging, red scratches. Both of his hands grasp onto your thighs, keeping them wide open so he can see you take his manhood. The view is wet, noisy, like you’re struggling to keep up with him, yet you don’t want to let him go as you keep leaking all over his sheets.
It’s such an impactful visual experience that not a minute later he shudders mid-thrust, like he’s been short circuited.
His head tips back, jaw going slack as euphoria passes through his whole body. The second his vision turns white, creamy arousal spilling inside you, he wonders if he’s finally reached the gates of heaven.
The thrill is intense, bringing slight overstimulation as he makes the last few pumps the exact moment your own orgasm snaps.
As the fog inside his mind dissipates, though slowly, he realises he cannot escape the staggering sensation of your climaxes clashing at the same time; he cannot recover from the fact he liked bringing you pleasure while a part of him is inside you even better.
When you curl beside him, limbs heavy, skin still humming with warmth, you rest your head against his chest and let your eyes flutter shut.
“I don’t want to stop needing you.” You admit quietly.
Maybe this is what faith is meant to look like, you think. Two people simply holding on to each other when it gets too dark.
☆ halloween treat in the form of a standalone fic as a part of my kinktober event !
⌗ ghostface!bf!jooyeon x fem!reader
genre: smut, cnc ( 18+ ) » 5.1k words
you and your boyfriend share a mutual interest in roleplay, and halloween seems like the perfect time to try it out so you come up with a plan: for halloween this year, he’s going to dress up as ghostface for the ultimate fantasy of yours. but what happens if his patience runs out long before october 31st?
✎… DAY 27 / PRIMAL PLAY. est. relationship, roleplay, sub!reader, predator x prey dynamic, chasing, unprotected (floor) sex, light fear play, mask kink, knife play, breath play, choking, name calling, manhandling (he drags you across the floor), big dick!joo, strength kink, degradation kink, pet names, creampie, few movie references
a.note ! the fic is set during the summer
jooyeon: Babeeeee, I’m bored
you: I just showered
you: text you in a bit when I’m ready :*
jooyeon: But I’m booored
jooyeon: Entertain me.
jooyeon: Or else…
you: geez
you: gimme a sec
You roll your eyes. So dramatic.
jooyeon: No.
jooyeon: Facetime? I want to watch
jooyeon: 😏
You shake your head as a smirk creeps on your lips. Raising your hand, you position the camera at the right angle, your towel suddenly loose moves lower. You snap a quick photo of your boobs - fingers gently resting over them, revealing just enough to tease him and make him beg for more.
you: will this shut you up?
You hit send, still smiling.
A few seconds pass. Then a minute. Then two.
Your smile falters when you glance at your phone after a few more minutes pass - there’s no response.
you: you did not just ghost me after I sent you a nude?
Still nothing.
Huffing, you abandon your phone and start doing your hair. Could he be seriously annoyed? You know your boyfriend can be a little dramatic sometimes, but he’s not the type to leave a nude on seen…
Then, your phone starts ringing. The unexpected sound suddenly buzzing in the quiet room makes you jump. You reach for it, pulse still quick from the surprise. But when you see the screen glowing with his name, the tension melts. A small smile tugs at your lips before you swipe to answer.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Jooyeon’s voice purrs through the speaker. “Miss me already?”
“Why are you not answering?” You scowl, still pacing around your room in nothing but your towel. “Thought you were mad at me or something.”
“Just wanted to see how long it would take before you start worrying about me.”
You can hear the grin in his voice, the deep but teasing chuckle that’s enough to make you melt - even when he’s infuriating like he is right now.
“You asshole.”
“It’s okay, you sent me boobs pics,” he muses dramatically with a sigh, “you still love me.”
Once again, you roll your eyes, but there’s an involuntary curl forming on your lips.
“I’ll make a good use of them. Thanks, gorgeous,” he adds smoothly. “Talk to you later?”
You huff, pretending to be annoyed, but the butterflies are fluttering in your belly from the way he said it - gorgeous. “Yeah, later.”
When the call ends, your apartment starts to feel too quiet, so you hit play on the most recent playlist you’ve been listening to. You toss your phone on the bed and go back to your routine - rubbing lotion in your skin, slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, applying some perfume. The usual steps after a relaxing shower.
Which is why the sudden ring of your doorbell startles you.
You freeze in front of your open wardrobe. It’s almost 20:00 pm and you’re not expecting anyone. For a moment you consider ignoring it, but it rings again, so you pause the music and head towards the door barefoot.
When you pull it open, the surprise hits you hard, it’s like the air gets punched out of you.
Standing there in the hallway under the warm glow of the lights is Ghostface.
Black robe, black leather boots, black gloves… the white mask tilted just enough to seem intrigued - and intimidating. Like he’s savouring the moment of seeing you alarmed.
Just for a split second you’re truly stunned. Because who the hell wears a Ghostface costume in the middle of July?
“Holy shit,” you whisper, pressing one hand to your chest.
And then, it clicks.
Jooyeon.
Of course, it’s him. Two weekends ago you were laughing how you’d absolutely nail a Cindy x Ghostface couples costume for Halloween this year.
Typical him, you leave him bored for five minutes, and he decides to stage a horror movie entrance at your front door.
You let your eyes widen, you gulp nervously, like you’re a prey, cornered.
“You… who are you?” You breathe, just loud enough for him to hear.
But he doesn’t give an answer. He only steps forward - to which you respond by taking a step back.
“You can’t come in,” you quickly blurt, clutching the edge of the door as if it’s your only defence. Your eyes drop nervously to your bare feet on the threshold, toes curling against the cool floor. “I’m sorry,” your lips twitching despite yourself, “but… you’re too scary.”
Ghostface tilts his head. The silence that comes between you presses in from all sides, until you can’t handle it anymore.
You laugh.
You can’t help it, the sound just slips out, bright and defiant in the heavy air.
“Can I help you? Last time I checked it’s July, not October 31st. Aren’t you a little early?”
No response. Just his glossy mask staring with that famous grotesque look.
You narrow your eyes, lifting your chin in a challenge. “What’s the matter? Can’t speak? I expected you to know how to you use your words. Aren’t you supposed to ask me what’s my favorite scary movie?”
The mask leans inches closer, and finally he speaks, low and menacing.
“You run your mouth a lot for someone who’s scared.”
Even though you know who it is, the sound of his voice still sends warm shivers through your spine. You love it - playful, taunting and dangerous all at once.
“Scared?” You scoff, folding your arms together to feign bravery. “Please, you’ll have to try harder than that. You don’t even have a knife.”
Fuck. Did I seriously forget the knife? he thinks. Yeah, it’s still sitting on the counter where he set it down before putting on his shoes.
His gloved hands flex slowly in the space between you. He lets the silence hang heavy.
If you think that makes you safe, you’re wrong.
He tilts his head, lowering his tone. “I can do a lot with these.”
The words somehow spill soft as he holds his palms open for you to see - hands that can grip, restrain, choke. He knows you’re picturing it all already.
You lift your eyes, and then, without a single word… you spin and run.
Jooyeon’s pulse surges, hot with sudden adrenaline rush. But he follows you calmly, grinning excited behind the mask as his boots slam heavy against the floor.
The front door is closed shut, trapping you.
“You won’t make it far, baby.” He says although you’re not near to hear. “Still, I’ll give you a head start.”
Your bare feet skid against the hardwood as you dart into the living room, heart pounding.
His boots follow close and deliberate as he isn’t rushing. He doesn’t need to. The sound alone makes your skin prickle, though, every step he makes reminds you that he’s hunting you.
You duck low behind the couch, pressing flat against the floor, trying to steady your ragged breathing.
“Where are you, baby girl?” His voice rolls out, distorted through the mask. “Where did you go?”
You peek through the narrow space beneath the couch. His leather boots stalk past.
“Don’t tell me you got scared all of a sudden.”
And then - thud!
He stumbles forward with a sharp clumsy noise, followerd by the crash of something toppling over.
“Damn it!”
You bite back a chuckle. You’d left one of your free weights after today’s workout, it must have rolled into his way.
He curses again, more quietly. You can almost see his face twisting in irritation as you catch the sound of his palm slamming on the couch for support.
For a second you’re sure he’s going to lean over and see you hiding, but he doesn’t. So you slide out from the other side, rushing toward the kitchen while he’s still distracted. You don’t slow until you’re behind the counter, pressing your back against the cold cabinets.
In the living area, his boots fall slower now, creeping.
“Where did you fuckin’ go?” His tone lilts with a darker edge, the frustration growing inside him.
The floor creaks - he’s getting closer.
You bring knees to your chest tighter trying to stay absolutely still. And then, you hear it - the scrape of sharp metal on wood.
He draws one of the kitchen knives from its block. You imagine his black-gloved fingers curling around the handle, the blade flashing the way it does in horror movies. A smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
“This one is even better.” He nods, letting the knife hang loose at his side.
For a moment he doesn’t move, his mask doesn’t move either as he listens for the slightest sound. His amusement radiates thick, though, filling the air with a slow burn thrill.
Soon, his head turns and his gaze shifts, settling on the cracked door to your bedroom at the end of the hall. The knife lifts slightly in his grip.
“Of course,” he mutters under his breath. “Running to your little safe space.”
Your lips curl as you hear him take his first steps towards your bedroom. The noise of his heavy boots grows more distant, giving you a moment to think about your next move.
The bedroom smells like you - the scent of your sweet lotion hangs in the air, mixing with your perfume; beauty products scattered across the vanity. The wardrobe door is carelessly left open and one of the drawers still juts out.
He steps closer, glancing inside. There’s a bunch of lace and silk folded in stacks. Your most intimate things.
He runs a hand through the pile, scattering everything into a mess. The fabrics slip between his fingers until his touch collides with something unexpected - hard and smooth… unmistakably shaped like a dick.
A mocking laughter rumbles from behind the mask as he pulls out the sleek vibrator, turning it over in his hand with sneering curiosity. He drops it back into the drawer, leaving it exposed and out of place on purpose.
His fingers wander some more, sifting through the lingerie until they hook on a random lace pair, delicate and rose pink. He lets them dangle from his grip; the sight makes his masked head tilt again as though he’s admiring them or just… wondering if he should keep them.
Before he can bring them to his face, a voice cuts sharp across the room.
“Not my underwear, you freak!”
The panties fall to the ground as he lunges. With eyes blazing and heart thumping in excitment, you run back toward the living room.
Both of your footsteps thunder as you circle the couch like two kids playing tag. Your chuckles are pitched high, entertained; Jooyeon’s curses - heated and muffled behind the mask.
“Shit—stop running, you little brat!” he growls, stumbling when you throw a pillow straight at his chest.
The cushion bounces off uselessly but it makes him snarl regardless.
“You’re crazy!” You tease with a squeal, darting to the other side as he focuses upon you. “And ridiculously slow.”
“And you’re dead meat when I catch you!”
He vaults halfway over the back of the couch, reaching. His fingers graze the cotton fabric of your top before you twist free.
“You’re such a loser! What do you want from me?” You gasp with a fleeting grin.
The voice beneath the mask spreads with warm tension. “Don’t you know what happens to pretty girls who let Ghostface into their home?”
You look at him for a second longer, drawned by the fearsome contours, the unfamiliar eerie note of his otherwise familiar voice. Something knots low in your belly.
You spin towards the hallway, but you barely take two steps before he’s behind you; hand clamped around your waist, forcing you off balance.
You start kicking and squealing, but he drives you forward, lowering his weight until you’re on the carpeted floor, cheek pressed against the rug.
“Got you.” He growls through a sly smirk.
The pressure of his body covers you completely, heating you up with a sensational mix of dominance and intimacy.
You wriggle, trying to do something, but his weight is immovable.
“Get off me!” You protest.
He only chuckles, low and jagged. And then… he really does get up - to drag you.
The rug burns against the skin of your thighs as you’re pulled backwards, helpless under the strength of his grip around your ankles. You force your hands to scrabble, your nails to scratch, but it’s exciting… knowing you can’t get away.
“Stop! Let me go!”
He centres you in the wide open living room. Almost like you’re a meal… a meal that he wants displayed at the perfect spot on the dining table.
“Stop fighting, kitten.” he sneers.
You see the blade flashing dangerously close to your head as he plants down his fist against the floor. It stays there for a brief moment like a silent threat humming through the air before he yanks you over.
“You’re only making it more fun for me.” he grunts, rolling you onto your back so your eyes meet the hollow stare of the mask.
Your breath hitches when he leans in.
“You ran…” his voice slips slow and intentionally, almost hypnotising. “You screamed… you called me names and tried to fight me.” His gloved fingers brush against your hair with a light touch. “Now that you’re in my hands… tell me, babe. What do you think happens next?”
You wet your lips, unable to think of something smart to say. Unable to look away. You’re trapped not only under his weight, but under his gaze too - the empty eyes, the cruel grin, and the familiar presence underneath.
Your stomach twists as adrenaline and something warmer pool together inside you.
“You like looking at me, hm?” He presses a finger under your chin, tilting your head up. “Is that why you’re so quiet now? Suddenly shy?” The same hand shifts over to your chest, tempted by the small buds poking through your top.
“I have a boyfriend,” you say, trying to steady your voice as a warning - and not whine blissfully at how he shamelessly squeezes your left boob, then the other one.
As expected, he grins, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, you do? And you’re only telling me that now?”
The knife shifts down when his hand moves. Its sharp tip grazes the fabric of your top, dragging a thin line. When he reaches the small silver of exposed skin at your stomach, he stops, pressing lightly just enough so you can feel the point.
“He’s strong and he plays football,” you blurt, heat rising to your cheeks as the blade cuts through the fabric. “And he’ll kick the shit out of you!”
Like that, your top is ripped apart. Your boobs on full display, nipples erected.
“And I’ll cut that dirty tongue right out of your mouth if you don’t shut the fuck up!”
You fall silent.
The harsh change in his voice brings you genuine surprise and your heart stumbles. You're witnessing a completely new side of your boyfriend and it has your mind swirling. There's also a throbbing need right between your legs that grows by the second.
His hand starts roaming freely, from your waist to your breasts, as though he’s contemplating where to cut first. The feeling of his glove against your skin is thrilling - slightly rough, moving in a way that makes the sensation of his touch linger warmly long after.
Making a pitiful pout, you speak up slowly, tone trembling enough to sound sincere. “You’re scaring me…”
The small, fragile tone stops Ghostface mid-motion, his gaze shifts, searching. A moment passes before he erases the distance between you; enough for his thick breath to reach your ear.
“And you make my dick hard,” he tells you, voice gravelly and intimidating.
You shudder when the knife enters your vision only to feel it directly on your cheek through slow, light taps. Despite the cool thrill, the heat in your core spreads, urging your hips to move… to search for friction or something more. Your thin shorts are stained, sticking to your skin.
“Please, Mr. Ghostface,” you purr gently, “don’t hurt me.”
But your pleas are cruelly dismissed.
“Look at those eyes,” he muses as he grips your jaw firmly to look at you closely, “they’ll look so pretty when you cry for your life.”
You play your role as the prey beautifully, but Jooyeon still catches the spark that gives you away. You're not just scared, you're turned on. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this thoroughly entertained.
His erected cock twitches behind his pants, and he grinds against your leg, gritting teeth in frustration at how easily this play is getting to him.
“W-What…” you trail off, laying still as he rolls his hips again, but with more force. “I… y-you shouldn’t—”
“Quiet, sweetheart,” he cuts you off, tone even rougher. “I know exactly what to do with you, alright?” He presses his prominent bulge against you one more time. It’s throbbing, screaming for any kind of relief. The way your breath hitches before breaking off in a whine only magnifies the blood flowing to the area, and he grins one last time. He can almost see the tension overtaking your body. “Shit—”
Slowly, he straightens to his full height. “Stay put,” he murmurs, firm enough to root you in place.
He slides the zipper, eyes trained on you - how you shudder just enough to faint uncertainty... how you make the softest little noise once his dick is exposed; there's precum already drooling down the flushed head and his thumb sweeps over it.
“See how hard it is?” He lowers it with his fingers before letting it slap up against his stomach. “All because of you.”
You swallow at the familiar sight of his size, big and impressive - in thickness as well as in length. The nice look of it is enough to make your legs spread wider.
In a matter of seconds Jooyeon kneels, hooking fingers under the hem of your thin shorts, and they disappear.
You immediately try to hide by closing your legs together, but he prevents that by gripping your thighs, making room for his intimidating frame. His insistent manhandling makes your whole body tingle, provoking small whines of embarrassment to escape your lips.
”No where to run now, doll,” he taunts, gaze dropping to your bare pussy that makes him lick his lips excitedly. “Would you look at that... no underwear?” he comments in a quiet surprise as he holds you open. “Were you expecting your sweet boyfriend to visit you?”
“No,” you shake your head, nervously. “We don't have plans for tonight.”
Your eyes flutter shut as one of his hands moves - two of his fingers drag through your folds, tracing the slick path to your hole that's already pleading for him. Then, he brings them back up, applying the slightest bit of pressure on your clit.
“So it’s just the two of us.” He finally responds, pleased. “Good.” His digits form a circle, and he watches satisfied as the fabric of his glove gets stained from your transparent slick. It glistens beautifully, and he can’t help but separate your puffy lips, expressing restraint he’s never shown before - surely not in your presence.
Your head turns, your eyebrows pull together.
Ghostface snickers at the sudden coyness. “Cute little cunt… drippin’ so much.” His touch, slow but firm, runs along the centre of your folds, causing more arousal to collect. “Must be frustrating, hm?”
The sensation has your mouth opening with soft, uneven breaths. There’s a dazed expression settling on your face, the pleasure flooding you in steady, intoxicating waves. Until the motions stop and your gaze catches the knife moving between your thighs.
“What are you…” you attempt to ask, but his index finger shushes you.
“Where should I start, huh?” He questions, wrapping his other hand around his pulsing cock. “Here,” he murmurs thoughtfully as the flat knife taps your cunt twice. “Or… there?” Slowly, he lifts the blade in the air, the sharp end pointing right at your face.
Or, more specifically, at your mouth.
“Please,” your lips tremble, “I’ll do anything.”
The grotesque mask tilts to the side, silent and thoughtful. Your wide, doe eyes fixate on the hollow gaze, pleading against its unreadable stare.
“Mm… getting a little pathetic, aren’t you?” He mocks, dragging you closer by the hips.
You breathe out a small gasp, not expecting him to adjust you like a weightless object.
“You’re staying right here,” he declares.
You nod your head, eyes lowering to his movements - one hand slowly tugs at his length, the other trails down your stomach.
“I’ll do what you want…” you say quietly, a spark of seduction lighting up your gaze.
“Ah, baby…” He chuckles unimpressed, “you have no idea what I want.”
The same hand that used to hold the knife, now lowers his cock; the swollen, warm tip slides through your entrance and his hips move forward to invite the rest of his size too. You’re wet and slippery enough to welcome all of him in a single slow push.
On the instant, an indescribable heat envelopes him, and Jooyeon groans, suddenly going still. He can feel every pulse, every squezze as you nearly choke on the moan that comes with the thrill of his size.
“Fuck, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, finally dragging his length, so calmly, so smoothly it makes both of you roll your eyes back. When his cockhead reaches your hole, he slams against you once, growling at the clench you respond with. “Got me hard as fuck, so now you’re gonna take all of it, you hear me?”
“It’s so deep,” you pant, overwhelmed at the rush, the striking stretch… the way he glides all the way to the base only to stop - again. Your mouth falls open, your hand shifts, searching for something to grab at.
“Nah, baby…” Ghostface says, and it sounds like he’s grinning condescendingly through every word, “you’re getting this dick.” His mask tilts down as he moves, tip sliding leisurely, further and further.
You were already aroused when he slipped inside, but you keep growing wetter with each new stroke that follows. He can feel it as your gummy walls cling to him, but he can hear it too - the faint squelching noise that begins to spread in the space between you.
“So wet and needy,” he grunts, keeping the pace maddeningly slow, allowing you to feel every inch throbbing for you. “Good thing I’m here, right?” He slams into you, harsher this time.
Then, he retrievies slow, watching you arch your spine off the floor.
A broken moan escapes you, your fingers somehow knotting in the fabric of his black robe. Your jaw trembles as you look up at him with glossy eyes. “But… m-my boyfriend,” you mewl, voice going weaker, laced in artificial guilt.
Your orgasm is building too fast. You can feel the rush running through your body, hot and powerful, coiling tight in your core. It’s in your fluttering chest, in your toes, in your mouth.
“Maybe you should’ve invited him over when you had the chance, sweetheart,” he coos, tone mock-sympathetic. His hands adjust on your hips, gripping the soft flesh. His cock aches, but he can’t surrender now. He's fantasised about this for far too long to let it end after a couple of minutes. He's going to allow himself to indulge, he's going to cherish every second of it. “You wouldn’t be in this mess right now… taking some sicko’s dick.”
His tone sounds like a punishment, but the rolls of his hips still aren’t rushing; they’re steady and precise.
You… you’re struggling to keep it together, though.
So he swiftly takes your legs, pressing them against one shoulder. And all he can hear is endless broken sounds dripping from your tongue, growing high pitched as he starts to move slightly quicker; just enough to make you scream.
“Tight little thing…” he groans in awe. With hands keeping your legs against him, he starts to thrusts, gaze fixated on your euphoric expression that twists something inside him. Soon, your tits steal his attention, bouncing to match his new rhythm. “You gonna tell your boyfriend how good Ghostface fucked you?”
You don’t respond. All you can focus on is how good the glide of his cock is as he angles his hips. Enthralled and on the verge of melting, you fist the fabric of his clothing harder.
Like you want to resist it, but also bring him closer at the same time.
“Oh, c’mon, pretty… cum for Ghostface.” he coos, voice low and smug. “I know you wanna.”
Before you know it, every thrust hits harder and your orgasm explodes. Your body jolts intensely, but determined Jooyeon fucks you through it, slick pooling out of you, coating his length as he twitches from your sensational spasms.
You’re barely able to think when the next moment he spreads you apart, eyes glued to your leaking pussy. He slaps his cock against your glistening folds, smirking when you mewl at each wet smack.
“Fuck, that was nice, wasn’t it?” He pinches your clit playfully. “I’m just getting started, baby. Enjoy while you can.”
His fingers and hips work in tandem now, forcing a brand new rush to flood your system as he circles your sensitive bud steadily; you can feel his obsessive gaze upon the view of his slick cock invading you again and again, every inch being sucked by your gummy walls that leak for more.
“Shit, you hear that? This pussy can’t get enough… I might let you live if you keep taking it so good, baby.”
If your mind wasn’t so hazy, you’d be amazed at how much he’s enjoying this. But the pressure brews strongly in your core, begging to release again soon.
Jooyeon lets out a guttural moan, his self-control weakening. His touch leaves your clit so he can lean forward, brace hands to the ground and speed up.
His mask is so close now, breath misting against the plastic. But even the exaggerated mouth is not enough to make you focus on anything else that’s not the burning knot pulsing as his tip nearly hits your cervix.
“What do you think?” He asks, trying his best to keep his voice stable as the rhythm of his body grows fierce, lewd sounds of skin slapping accompanying his words. “Should I let you live, hm?”
He notices droplets of sweat beading on your skin as you struggle to move your lips; the heat shared between you only increases, making his own skin drip beneath his clothes.
His inhales tremble as his mind protests his need to cum right there and then. Instead, he swallows the moans threatening to slip, and speaks again: “You’re young… pretty…” his dominant hand shifts, grabbing your neck. “But can you be good, hm?”
Your eyes barely open, your pulse suddenly hammering in your throat as he applies some pressure. You manage a small nod, your hand moving with a mind of its own, fingers brushing his wrist.
“Y-Yes… g-good—I’ll be g-good…”
His grip tightens on the sides and your babbles falter. Your mouth falls open, the restricting act only adding to the excitement swirling inside you.
The squeezing of your cunt intensifies, every throb desperate and pleading.
“You sure?” Ghostface challenges. His hand moves, causing your whines to stutter as you finally catch your breath. His hips keep snapping, cock slamming deep and demanding just like his voice. “You sure you can be a good girl?”
Before you can answer, the same gloved hand covers yours face.
His hand is large, stopping you from breathing almost immediately when he presses just enough to make you really feel it.
“Sick,” he chuckles darkly; the grip of your cunt hugs him stronger. “Being in danger makes your pussy even tighter, baby.”
Your whimpering slips muffled and hot against his palm. He can swear that he caught a small grumble of his name.
A quirk of a smile appears beneath the mask when his hand moves away.
“Please—“ you pant, unable to tell what you’re even trying to say. It feels like every tiny thought on your mind is swimming. There are tears prickling in your eyes; a sparkling result of the pleasure consuming you. “I’ll be… v-very good.”
The continuous slamming makes the knot inside you so thin and sharp, your toes curl and your thighs begin to tremble around his frame.
Then, your vision blurs. Breathing becomes painful, your heartbeat stumbles. Drool pools at the corners of your mouth, staining the black glove suffocating you.
“Gonna let me fill you with cum?” He continues as he doesn’t slow even a little bit; his thrusts only start to sound more wet and filthy, more mean. “Say yes, slut.” He grunts, heavy hand glued to your flushed face.
You growl into his palm, loud, desperate, and then - you’re free, spine arched as you gasp for air.
But you don’t get the chance to recover from the thrill - not even in the slightest. Seconds later, your climax rushes through you, raw and electric.
Keeping the pumps of his cock firm and deep, Jooyeon straightens, fingers sinking into your hips for a bruising grip; his strength drags you forward as he chases his own peak by rutting into you savagely. It feels striking, fucking you in this wicked, selfish manner as your walls flutter and squelch around him from your release.
“Yeah, baby, fuckkk—” He cries out, slamming into you with one last powerful thrust.
The rush explodes behind his eyes, and Jooyeon almost sees stars as he rolls his hips despite the overstimulation creeping.
His breaths are loud, ragged under the mask, but the intense, broken moan he let out the moment he spilled inside you still blasts into your mind.
You whine blissfully - your pussy feels so warm, sullied with the mixture of your clear arousal and his white sperm, as he grinds against you slowly, forcing it as deep as possible. When he pulls out, everything begins to drip from you as you still throb from the experience.
“Did you have fun?” he asks breathlessly.
The way you lay lifelessly on the ground, unable to move let alone speak, makes him grin.
Silently, you watch him get rid of the Ghostface mask, tossing it on the near coffee table. When your eyes meet, he greets you with the most fucked out grin. He’s a mess - flushed, panting, damp forehead and gaze burning like he’s high. His hair is tied in a low ponytail, but there are several messy strands clinging to his temples with sweat, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, and the curve of his neck. It somehow softens his features.
When your lips part, your voice comes out wrecked and hoarse. “Why tonight?” you ask, offering a tired but warm smile.
Jooyeon lets out a short chuckle, tilting his head as if the question itself is ridiculous. “It’s not fun if you know when I’m gonna show up.”
▹ she lets me freeuse her while she plays video games
⌗ pornstar!junhan 𝓍 fem!reader ; smut ──── 0.4 words
📸: sub!reader, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms implied (f!rec), free use, slut shaming and spitting (f!rec), overstimulation (f!rec), fingering
( prologue ⋮ masterlist )
“YOU’RE SO EASY,” Hyeongjun sneers; his fingers dig persistently into the swell of your ass, his metal rings grazing your flesh as he holds you pinned beneath him. “Playing your stupid game dressed like this? When I’m right here?”
His thrusts come with a maddening rhythm, not too fast, not too slow, but due to your earlier orgasms your body, hot and stimulated, trembles every time his cock slides in and out. The flimsy fabric of your dress is ridden high up your waist, fluttering uselessly with every motion that makes the mattress squeaky; your ass is completely bare for both his eyes and the camera’s lenses.
“You’re asking for it,” he states condescendingly, grip squeezing and spreading you open. “You slut.” And then, he spits mockingly - right where your tight cunt wraps around him, throbbing warmly. “You were literally begging me to ruin this pussy… pathetic.”
You whimper into the bedsheets; a muffled sound, but desperate enough to be captured clearly. The controller slips from your grip and the game on the screen suddenly runs without you.
“Thought you could multitask?” Hyeongjun teases, glancing briefly at your avatar now helpless on screen. “Go on, I’d like to see you try.”
“I… c-can’t—“ you try to form proper sentences, but your body, flooded by the rush, betrays you as the force of his hips magnifies. “I’m c-cumming… again…”
Your thighs shake but his hand doesn’t leave you, it grips your side, tight enough to bruise.
The orgasm bursts, sharp and warm, and you almost choke on your whimper as the release drips down onto the cushion shoved beneath your belly; the dark spot spreads instantly.
Hyeongjun chuckles lowly as he pulls out only to push his long, slim fingers instead. He twists them, teasing your walls while his gleaming gaze savours the quivering of your body that just can’t help but give in to him, even as your energy and composure slip away.
“That’s it, baby.” He says, sinking his fingertips deeply, curling them mercilessly as you spasm around them. “Whenever I want… however I want. You’re such a good slut.”
Crying out as the overstimulation builds, you try to push against the mattress, but Hyeongjun presses a palm against your back, not slowing his thrusting fingers.
It’s so entertaining… the more he uses you, the faster you cum.
“Sluts don’t run, baby. They cum again and again until they can’t think straight.”
⌗ pornstar!junhan 𝓍 fem!reader ; smut ──── 1.0k words
📸: sub!reader, (clothed) unprotected sex, light pet play, usage of toys (butt plug), orgasm control (f!rec), spanking, pet names (baby; bunny)
( prologue ⋮ masterlist )
HYEONGJUN KEEPS THE CAMERA TILTED TO CAPTURE EVERY ROLL OF YOUR HIPS; his other hand slides your skirt higher, bunching the fabric around your waist.
You hold his cock in place with your fingers - it’s exposed through the undone fly of his jeans, length pressed against your slippery clit.
Each slow grind leaves him more glistening as your arousal smears along his skin, causing it to shine under the mellow light of his bedroom.
You rock back and forth, massaging your sensitive spot, occasionally teasing your entrance but not pushing further inside.
“Wait a little bit longer, bunny,” he says whenever you try.
He keeps humming in pleasure; his voice an alluring mixture of awe and something close to relief as he zooms in on the mess you create together… the slick noise of your folds dragging along his erection fill the space louder than either of you expected.
Eventually your breathing turns heavier, your moves greedier; the moans you let out freely gradually pitch higher, pleading for something more… The way he looks at you, even through the haze, even with the camera between you, you can feel it - he’s devouring you.
And the thrill of it is addictive.
The excitement blooms hot in your chest, making you wonder… if he looks at you like this right now, what about them? The ones who are going to watch later? Will they stare at their screens the same way - so entranced and turned on; maybe touching themselves while imagining what it would be like to have you rubbing yourself against them instead? The idea encourages your hips to keep going; you want to perform well for them, as well as for him.
At once, Hyeongjun exhales, smacking your thigh lightly. “Turn around,” he orders with a low voice, jaw tightening. The tension in his body hints at how badly he wants to drop the camera and just grab you.
He’s been dreaming of moments like this.
“Ah, look at that…” he mutters when you obey; the camera shakes a little as you both adjust. “Bunny’s got such a pretty ass.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a small grin as the soft puff of fur peeking between your cheeks enters the frame. “And a cute little tail.”
You feel the weight of his cock tap against one of your cheeks before he finally pushes inside you, pressing you down against him; moaning at the amazing warmth he suddenly found himself into.
Your walls immediately cling to him desperately as you start to lift yourself, experimenting until you find the right rhythm.
Another moan rips from Hyeongjun’s chest as his eyes stay on your skirt that’s rucked up around your waist, filling the air with faint rustling noise.
“Fuck, baby—your pussy is so tight…” he mutters, punctuating his words with a smack to your ass. The sharp sound clashes with your whimpers, and he slaps again, like the action helps him hold onto his last bits of self-control. “You like having both holes filled up, don’t you? My filthy little pet.”
His eyes flick lower to the white puff of fur wiggling with your movements, then they fixate closely on how beautifully you’re wrapped around him as you slow down. The arousal is dripping out of you, making his mouth water.
You glance back with a needy look, panting. “I love it so much,” you mewl, clutching your skirt so the camera sees everything. “I’m so close, please… can I cum around you?”
“Not yet,” Hyeongjun murmurs, squeezing your hip firmly to easen your pace. “I know you’re excited, bunny, but you’re gonna be patient for me.” He drags his dark nails lightly over your naked skin, then lands another loud smack.
The sting, just like the effects of his words, only blend with the intensity of your pleasure, making you breathe harsher as you proceed riding him, demonstrating the sloppy way he disappears into you.
Your pulse stutters when he suddenly whispers behind you, tense and rushing: “Jump on it.”
It’s not a suggestion, and every syllable tightens the knot of heat in your belly, resulting in your body responding right away. You push yourself up, then drop down, again and again, desperate to keep pulling out those blissful moans of his.
“Fuck… so sexy,” he groans as his hand travels up your waist, fingers tugging roughly at the fabric of your skirt. “Just like that, keep going, baby.”
You slam down harder and his grip strengthens, bruising your side as the clenching around him grows unbearable.
“I… I can’t—”
“Ah, so close, aren’t you?” Hyeongjun’s tone drips with taunt, but his jaw is tight and his eyes are fluttering shut as he stares at the sight below.
The way your ass bounces for him, magnifying the mutual pleasure between you and filling the room with the sounds of wet, frantic slaps; the way your pussy sucks him so needily - he knows he can’t hold it in much longer either.
“Go on, bunny,” he rasps. “Make a mess on my cock.”
The permission has your body stiffen for a moment before it finally gives in, twitching uncontrollably. The orgasm washes over you like a big wave, causing the rhythm to falter.
“Good girl,” he moans, his voice then cracking as he pulls out with a slick pop.
Quickly, his fist closes around his cock just in time for his climax to hit him. Hot and thick spurts paint your ass, staining the plug’s white fluff and the back of your skirt. His elevated sounds of relief spill right into the camera’s mic as he keeps stroking, pulsing hard against his messy fingers, offering you every drop.
The lens catch every quiver of your thighs as you collapse forward, your leaking pussy fluttering without him no longer inside. Hyeongjun lets the camera linger on the view before his gaze briefly flickers down to his jeans that are now stained with your arousal. “What a mess,” he comments lazily despite his smirk stretching wider.
His eyes return to your body. The video zoomes in. “Say thank you.”
where you’re not just watching the latest video of the hottest porn channels - you’re becoming a part of it… or a bunch of stories where you team up with some of the top trending pornstars and models, and help them create their nastiest video yet. the twist: until now, they’ve filmed strictly solo. you’re about to become their very first special guest - the special guest some of them actually trust enough to show their face to
PROLOGUE ⋮ PLAYLIST ⋮ MASTERLIST
꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ leave a comment or an ask if you want to be tagged and notified for my kinktober event
please, keep in mind !
this event is strictly 18+ and minors are not allowed
most drabbles contain roleplay; everything is consensual and planned out beforehand; check out the prologue when it’s out if you’d like to find out how it all starts, or you can skip straight to day 1
all of my works are smut and written with fem!reader
as always, each drabble will have its own content warnings listed so you know what to expect before diving into it. please, don’t read anything that you don’t feel comfortable with!
who are you filming with first? check the catalogue to see your schedule…
His office door clicks shut behind you. With slow, measured steps, you walk towards his desk.
Your boss leans back in his leather chair, eyes tracking you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite figure out, there’s something assessing, like he’s weighing a decision.
“Got a minute?” he asks.
You nod silently, sitting across from him.
“I wanted to talk about what an exceptional year you had,” he speaks calm as he always does, but his tone carries an unfamiliar weight that makes you shift, sitting a little streighter. “You’ve been one of my best employees this year. I’ve been thinking about how to show my appreciation.”
“A raise could work.” A small smile tugs at your lips.
“That’s one option,” Gunil nods as a playful smirk plays at the corner of his mouth; he’s always appreciated your quick and discreet way to show your humor. “I’m thinking... something less traditional.”
You tilt your head, your curiosity piqued, but he doesn’t elaborate right away. Instead, he leans forward, forearms resting on the desk. You can’t tell if your pulse is suddenly spiking from anticipation or from the intensity in his gaze that sends your thoughts skimming dangerously close to something inappropriate… something you shouldn’t be imagining about your boss.
It wouldn’t be a first, though. Even some of your colleagues have picked up on the way you look at him, the way your behavior shifts in his presence. You’ve overheard them in the bathroom without them knowing more than once, whispering annoyed - about how you’re always trying to prove yourself in front of him, how you’re obviously angling for something.
They’re not wrong.
“I create adult content,” he says at once with an even voice. “I’ve had it as one of my side projects since a little before I became CEO, but it’s been good to me so I decided not to drop it.”
“I see.” You feel the heat rising to your cheeks but you try to keep your expression neutral as his eyes stay fixated upon you, analysing each small reaction you make.
“But lately my audience has been asking for something different… with a partner.”
The image of his hands pressing against a stranger’s body immediately twists your stomach.
“I want that partner to be someone I can trust.” his lips bring back the familiar smirk, deepening it slowly. “You’re a smart girl…” he pauses long enough for his words to warm you up. “You must’ve figured out what I’m trying to say by now.”
You force a puzzled smile as though you genuinely don’t understand. “I’m not sure I follow…”
“A girl quick like you?” Gunil leans back in his chair, more casual than he was a moment ago. “Oh, come on.” His smirk widens as he lets his gaze drift over your face with interest, though both of you are aware he’s already figured you out like a puzzle.
“Do you mean… me?” You ask, fidgeting with your fingers; the skin beneath your skirt is heating up, the back of your thighs, sticking to the black leather.
Gunil’s lips part. “Yes.” He lets the word sink in, enjoying the gleam of surprise in your eyes; somehow, the innocence inside them is already dissipating. “It’s your choice, of course. But you’re going to be compensated… very well.”
KWAK JISEOK
⤷ as your situationship
“Just listen to this little cunt, baby, fuck—” Jiseok snarls, his deep voice rough and full of mockery. His hips speedily jerk forward, slamming against you relentlessly. “She just can’t stop dripping for me, huh?”
You try to nod, your lips trembling from uncontrollable mewls. Soon, your head is going to start spinning - you already feel lightheaded, like everything in front of you is going to blur anytime soon.
“Fuck—“ he growls, eyes fixated upon your hand that’s circling your clit. A little bit lower, your soaked pussy squishes his thick cock, tighter and tighter. “Good thing I’m here. Right, baby? This greedy fucktoy can’t go a day without me.”
He’s not wrong at all. For some reason, Jiseok is the only one who can transform you into this state - wrecked and mindless. He’s the only one who knows how to pull an orgasm after an orgasm from you; the only one who’s ever made you squirt - something you never thought your body was even capable of.
“Shit—“ you cry out, forcing your hand to move faster, “I’m c-cumming again…”
“Do it,” he grunts demanding; there’s glistening sweat trickling down his temple as he strengthens his hips, determined to push you over the edge again. “That’s what you’re meant for, slut… cum all over me.”
The release is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before; the pleasure explodes through you, stars bursting behind your eyes as you convulse before his gaze, juices spraying uncontrollably.
You don’t even notice when his grip leaves your sides. By the time your vision clears a little bit, you see that his phone has been in his hand, recording the moment.
“Fucking hell… look at this mess.” A teasing laugh escapes his raspy throat as the camera remains upon the sight, catching every twitch, every drip soaking the sheets. “Stop squeezing me, babe. Tsk, so greedy.”
He pulls out, then spits down onto your cunt that’s red and swollen.
“Can’t wait to show the boys how you squirt.”
“Jiseok!” You gasp.
“What?” He glances at you briefly before looking back at the screen. “You didn’t mind it when I sent them your nudes.”
You don’t respond because he’s right - again. You enjoyed scrolling through the screenshots of their messages; filthy comments targeting your body. You enjoyed it even more when you joined them for a night out afterwards and noticed the difference in their behaviour around you.
Jiseok finally tosses the phone aside to hover over you with a subtle curl on his lips. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever laid my hands on,” he says as his voice dips lower. “I want you in my next video.”
“Are you serious?” You ask quietly, groggy and still breathless.
He responds with no hesitation: “Dead serious.” He slowly lifts his gaze searching for an answer in your dazed eyes. “I want everyone to see how you fall apart in my hands… I want to make them jealous.”
OH SEUNGMIN
⤷ as your best friend’s ex
“Just hear me out, okay?” He shoots you a quick glance before centring his vision back on the road.
For months you’ve barely exchanged something more than a polite nod. Now, here you are - in his car, listening to him talk about the successful rise of his pornhub channel (something you’re perfectly aware of), because he offered you a ride home after you ran into each other at a party.
“You’re perfect for this,” he says, emphasising on perfect by drawing it out in a low, velvety tone that feels like it’s made to slip past your defences.
It immediately blends into the bitter guilt that’s already gnawing at you for just being in his car.
“Why would I be the right person for something like that?” You ask, turning to him.
“Because you hate me.” His answer drops quick and steady. Free from any emotion. “You do, right?” He asks after you remain silent for a moment.
“It’s not that I hate you…” you murmur, too tangled in the mess of thoughts you can’t even begin to sort out.
Attraction, resentment, guilt, arousal…
“You never liked me,” he completes for you.
And because Oh Seungmin is like no other guy you’ve ever met - the corner of his mouth twitches entertained rather than offended.
“That’s why you’d be perfect.” He says without looking at you. “No risk of catching feelings, no drama… we film one video, you get your payment and then we go our separate ways.”
The truth is, you’ve never been good at truly ignoring him. Even when he was with your best friend, he dangerously lingered in the back of your mind. And after they broke up… it got worse. You kept searching for him on that damn website, more times than you’d ever admit.
“I will never show your face,” he says, glancing at you as if reading your mind. “She’ll never find out if that’s what you worry about.”
Oh Seungmin has always been your biggest secret. But maybe that’s going to change sooner or later.
The notification from airdrop arrives with a ping, confirming your photo was sent. Your nude photo.
Your stomach drops. The name on the screen doesn’t belong to the guy you’ve been casually flirting with for the last couple of days. It belongs to the name of your neighbour.
For fifteen solid minutes you just pace around your apartment like a caged animal, mind spiralling with one unbearable question - how are you going to look him in the eye next time you run into each other in the hallway?
What makes matters worse is that there’s still no reply from him. No call - nothing.
Before you overthink yourself into madness, you grab the keys and cross the miniature distance to the door next yours. It opens after the first knock, and there he is - your dreamy neighbour - damp dark hair, a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water still trailing down his toned chest.
Damn it, you just masturbated half an hour ago.
“It wasn’t meant for you,” you blurt out, trying not to lower your gaze as he leans a shoulder against the doorframe.
You swallow, feeling the blush rising to your face. Jungsu blinks - silently with an easy smile. A smile that does not say good to see you, but I expected to see you.
“Uhm, I— the thing I sent… it wasn’t meant for you. I misclicked and… it was meant for someone else.”
“I figured.” He answers as a flicker of light amusement makes his gaze shine.
“I’m sorry…” you bite your lip. Why is it so hard to meet his eyes?
“It’s alright.” The corner of his mouth lifts slowly, but his tone is gentle, not teasing. “I deleted it.” He streightens, and the white towel shifts a little bit, causing your brain to short circuit.
“Oh, uhm… okay,” you mumble, nodding. But your voice comes ot too frail, too… unconvincing. Your nod looks far from agreeable.
Jungsu notices it all. “Is there a problem?”
You won’t be able to look at him the same after this… yet, you say it regardless.
“I wouldn’t have minded if you kept it,” you admit, your voice dipping softly at the confession.
You stand in the hallway, cheeks burning, knees feeling weak and unreliable as the seconds pass by without a respond.
Then, Jungsu’s lips curve in that devastatingly charming smile, his head tilts. “How does a shy girl like you…” he takes a step forward, “take nudes like that?”
“I…” The words tangle somewhere in your throat that goes dry the closer he gets. “I don’t know.”
“By the way,” he says as he takes a step back, making you instantly miss the warmth of his body. “I have something of mine I could show you… I’m a little shy about it too, but… It would make us even. Seems only fair.”
HAN HYEONGJUN
⤷ as your perverted best friend
“Hyeongjun… why do you have my underwear in your drawer?”
“Shit.” The boy freezes. His mouth opens but his brain is suddenly blank. “I… uhm, these aren’t yours,” he stammers, forcing a laugh that comes out too nervous and only makes it worse.
“They aren’t?”
“I’ve been… seeing someone,” he blurts, too quickly and unconvincing. “She just owns the same pair I guess. Crazy coincidence, right?” He shrugs, but his entire body is evidently tense.
“What a coincidence,” you murmur, narrowing eyes as you tug at the elastic thoughtfully. “That special someone has also cut the tags off, just like I did with mine the day I bought them… too bad mine went missing.” You glance up with a humourless smile. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”
Hyeongjun swallows thickly, but no sound comes out.
“Just tell me the truth!” You raise your voice, frustrated, throwing the panties in his direction. “I know my own underwear when I see it!”
Should he pick them up? Should he leave them on the floor? Caught between shame and an odd feeling of relief - relief from the possibility of finally revealing the truth to you, Hyeongjun steps forward. His voice is slightly different, more hoarse, as he mutters: “I’ll just show you.”
You step aside as he settles in the chair at his desk. The anticipation is heavy and warm in the air as you watch him log into his pornhub account.
You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this - a top trending channel. Big numbers. And every video staring back at you… is of him. His face cannot be seen anywhere but you recognise each part of his body. His clothes, his apartment, the way his hands move.
Hyeongjun, in the same exact chair he’s sitting on right now, jerking off with rough, desperate strokes. On the couch where you watch anime, edging himself mercilessly with his own fist, or - overstimulating himself with your lace underwear until he’s shaking.
The words are lost in your throat.
Suddenly, he pushes back from the desk, restoring the distance between you; as if he can’t stand close to you now that you’ve seen… everything. He covers his heated face with his palms, groaning from embarrassment, waiting for you to judge him.
“You have… a lot of views,” you murmur finally, eyes still locked on the screen; your voice is quiet and soft, but steady. Then, you turn in his direction. “I’m not surprised.”
Hyeongjun’s eyes widen as he’s caught off guard by your sly smile. “You’re not mad?”
“I mean…” you meet his gaze boldly. “You could’ve just asked me if you wanted an audience. Instead you preferred to get famous on your own.” Your voice dips into a seductive playfulness. “Kind of selfish, don’t you think? I thought we’re best friends.”
Hyeongjun swallows hard again, catching your finger trailing teasingly along the edge of his desk. But then he looks back up, taking a slow step forward. “It’s not too late to join me,” he says.
LEE JOOYEON
⤷ as your possessive ex
“Look who’s here!”
Before you can turn, an arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you close with confidence. His cologne is maddeningly familiar just like his voice.
“Thanks, man.” He says with a sharp grin, dismissing your conversation partner. “You can go now.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving you from what was about to be your most boring conversation ever. You’re welcome.”
You roll your eyes, pulling slightly out of his grip. “Actually, I was enjoying that conversation. For once it felt like I was talking to a normal, educated man who actually had something interesting to say.”
“Mm…” his eyes flicker away for a second as he still keeps that infuriating smirk you used to fall for. “And what was that? His rich daddy? Yeah, really fascinating stuff to discuss at a Halloween party.”
“He cares about his future.” You snap back. “It’s attractive. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
Jooyeon breathes out a low chuckle. But his eyes keep shifting up and down, slowly taking in the details of your look - the neckline of your bold dress, the glitter at the corners of your eyes, your lipstick in the most alluring shade… or maybe it’s simply the familiar shape of your lips that makes the sight so appealing.
“Damn,” he tilts his head, frowning comedically. “We haven’t seen each other since… what? Almost a year? And you turned into a gold digger?”
“Are you counting?” You raise a brow, and suddenly… he goes quiet. “Whatever. You weren’t supposed to see me tonight.”
“Please, you can’t hide from me.” Jooyeon huffs, half smiling when you try to walk past him. “I’ll recognise this ass anywhere. Even on pornhub.”
You freeze. “What…” you almost whisper, facing him perplexed. “How?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he glances away, taking a sip from his beer. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Then, his gaze returns to you, much calmer than before. “I watch everything,” he admits. “More than once.”
“Thanks for the views,” you mutter flatly, brushing past him to escape the flustered rush in your chest.
But he blocks your way. “We could collaborate sometime.”
“What are you talking about?” You blurt before your mind catches up. “Wait… oh my god.” Your voice drops in surprise. “Are you…?”
“Yeah,” he offers a small shrug. “It’s been a few months now.”
You nod once, unable to comment from surprise.
“So…” he steps closer, “are you down?”
“Jooyeon,” you exhale slowly. “We are not together anymore.”
“I know, baby,” he says smoothly, “but just think about how much money we could make.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“My bad,” he smirks faintly, lifting hands in mock surrender. “Just hear me out,” his tone dips persuasively, “your OnlyFans is blowing up these days, I’m on Top Trending… one video is enough to double our numbers.”
“There are so many girls who would kill to be in a video with you,” you say, your jaw tightening.
“They’re not you.” He responds, simple and steady.
Your silence stretches thick, but he leans in anyway, eyes fixated on yours. Until you speak up.
“One video. Nothing else.”
Jooyeon reaches for a handshake, grinning determined. Then, his brow lifts curious. “I’m allowed to call you baby in the video, right?”
stoner jooyeon AND stoner gaon.. like the idea i have is, gaon is your dealer and you became close with him and became close with jooyeon who was gaons bestfriend— and let’s pretend jooyeon is a player, and one day when the 3 of you are high, jooyeon just randomly asks ‘you guys ever had a threesome’ and at first your like what the fuck but gaon is lowkey into the idea… and then boom. threesome.
i’m imagining it so well and fuck it’s giving me ideas—
i can see jooyeon’s perverse side slip out whenever he’s high; not only does the weed make him horny but it also makes him loose all filter around his friends, he blurts everything that crosses his mind
because you got friendly with his best friend jiseok first, and him next, one night he just has to ask if you two have hooked up already. “why not? you’re hot.” he says, shamelessly checking you out before shifting his dazed eyes to jiseok. “she’s exactly your type.”
and maybe that’s when he brings up the question for a threesome like the stoned perv he is 🥴
🍡 DINNAAAAA i agree with your latest post/reblog? is it repost or reblog? ANYWAY junhan would be sooo happy to kiss you for hours and you’ll get all worked up. he’d make you beg AND he’d giggle in your face too 😪😪
i’d call it a reblog? just had to leave that reaction pic under the original post because desperately making out with him immediately got stuck on my mind after watching that… he’s so mesmerising 💔
junhan has always been giving me the impression of someone who gets lost in the feeling of your lips and kisses. he’d absolutely cherish your moans and whimpers slipping into his mouth as you can’t detach from one another for what feels like an hour; he can hold you and make out with you for hours. he’d have lots of fun when you start begging for more, grinding against his lap to gain some friction from his boner… needneedneed </3
i took psychic damage from this thought so now i’m making it everyone’s problem:
bf!junhan sitting you on his lap, holding your legs open and fingering you while the rest of xdiz watch. it had been just a casual hangout among friends, maybe some drinks or a couple of blunts got involved, someone jokes about how before you and hyeongjun started dating, they were into you. cue several murmurs of agreement, your flustered reaction, and hyeongjun comments “of course you all were, they’re hot.” you’re gonna laugh it off until he leans in to whisper in your ear “you wanna put on a show, let them see just how hot you can get?”
(also they can look but they can’t touch bc hyeongjun’s possessive of what’s his 🥰✨)
🎧 now playing... slow burn - baby rose / skin - rihanna / …baby one more time - the marías / meat - bibi / bom bidi bom - nick jonas, nicki minaj / all to you - sabrina claudio
pairing: bf!jooyeon x fem!reader
genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 3.3k words
✎… established relationship, strip tease (m!rec), lap dance (m!rec), light sub/dom dynamic, pet names, teasing, dry humping, hair pulling, handjob (m!rec), name calling (slut once or twice)
( masterlist )
“Do I have to be sitting in this chair?” Jooyeon raises his voice so it spreads down the hallway. “The couch is so much more comfortable, you know.”
“Don’t move!” You yell back from the bedroom, giving your reflection in the mirror one last glance. “And keep your hands behind your back like I told you to.”
Jooyeon chuckles, amused by the remark. “Didn’t think you were actually serious about that.” His voice trails off the second you open the door and step into the living room. “Well, well… what do we have here?” He murmurs, watching you with a curious half-smirk, drinking in your appearance.
His eyes, suddenly wider and shinier, break the contact, curious to trace the silk material of a robe he’s never seen on you before, how it sways around your thighs, making the movements of your silhouette even more entrancing.
“A surprise,” you simply answer, pressing a hand lightly to his chest as he’s about to lean forward. “Relax, birthday boy.”
Your eyes meet and that helps Jooyeon figure out the real meaning behind your words; behind the sly smile resting on your glossy lips.
“Baby, are you serious?” His voice thickens, his eyes flick up and down a few times like he’s in trouble. “You can’t expect me to just sit here while you… do whatever you’re planning on doing looking like this.”
“I haven’t even taken my robe off yet,” you grin, too amused at how dramatic he is already.
“Exactly,” he exhales, letting his head fall to the side as if the sight of you alone is too much to handle.
You keep looking at each other for a moment; Jooyeon sinks deeper in the unfamiliar lust in your gaze - he’s seen it before, but never so flashy and alive. You, on the other hand, savour the heat and dark intimacy of his that you know so well and love.
You step back, feeling his eyes not missing a single one of your steps. Without another word you reach for your phone and start the playlist you prepared specifically for tonight.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him subtly shifting, straightening, shoulders tensing in anticipation.
Breathing in, you return to the centre of the room, nerves buzzing under your skin as his gaze follows you. Matching the pleasing beat of the first song, you begin to sway your hips left and right, deliberately teasing by sliding one hand up your thigh, across your waist, then - over the silk knot at your hip.
Jooyeon tilts his head back slightly, as if to observe you better; brow arched and smile slowly sharpening. “You’re really doing this, huh?”
“I am,” you respond with a flirty smile. “For you.”
You step closer, noticing him tense ever so slightly in his seat.
“You’re so freaking hot… I love you.” He whispers, unable to look away from your eyes… until he spots your hands tracing over your body - up your stomach, your chest, squeezing lightly enough to make him swallow needily as you also offer the faintest glimpse of bare skin where the fabric parts. “Take it off.”
“Not so fast,” you shake your head, but your tone remains tender and calm. “Do you know how much money I spent on this robe?”
Jooyeon shifts a little, surprisingly keeping his hands locked behind his back, then huffs. “Why did you even bother buying it?“
“Because it’s fun,” you say, turning around.
You present him with your back, your hips roll beautifully with the beat as your palms glide over your ass, giving him a taste of the pleasant way the silk caresses your skin.
Then, you straighten, but swiftly bend over right after, simultaneously dragging the hem a little higher, slow and steady, exposing the soft curve of your cheeks, but nothing more than that.
Behind you, Jooyeon groans out of frustration. The view instantly awakens a familiar, warm pressure inside him, making his underwear feel tighter.
“That’s the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen...”
You shoot him a coy glance behind your shoulder, tugging it just a little bit more in order to give him a peek at your lace panties hiding underneath. A small peek. Nothing more.
“Mmm, baby… not enough!” He groans again, hands twitching like he’s about to pull you in his lap any second now. “Show me more, pretty girl.”
Instead of obeying, you take a step or two away as he continues expressing his disappointment.
“You’re evil.”
“You’re impatient,” you shoot back infuriatingly calm. You let the robe slip off one shoulder, then the other before tugging it close again.
“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, glancing away for a second; his one leg starts bouncing which only proves your point. “I know you want me to rip that thing off your body.”
You stop swaying to the music and erase half the distance between you. Your hands find the silk knot and you finally tug at it, not leaving his expression out of sight.
The robe opens, exposing discreet lines of skin as you hold it closed to deny him full reveal.
Jooyeon’s breath catches, waiting for the moment he’s going to see it fall in your feet.
Yes, he’s impatient. And he’ll never learn how to properly contain himself around you. How can he resist when you make him feel like an animal in heat with a single brush of your hand? With a single curve of your lips? He wishes he can just grab you and rip that robe apart with his teeth… but he refrains from making a move; he keeps his hands obedient as he knows this is special to you - you’ve planned it for his birthday.
He inhales deeply, watching you hold onto the loose material, dragging the moment by swaying naturally like you have all the time in the world.
He decides to bite again, his wicked smirk returns. “If you didn’t you would’ve cuffed me.”
You tilt your head, intrigued by his words.
“Am I wrong?” He lifts a brow to provoke you.
But his smug expression dissipates the second you walk past him. He immediately twists to the side, trying to follow your steps, but you stop right behind him. Just now you see that he’s been gripping tightly on the back of the chair this whole time.
Your fingers slip into his long, dark hair, tugging slightly until his head tips back. A low guttural sound leaves his throat before he can stop it - it always drives him wild when you tug at his hair, no matter how light or rough.
“You’re not wrong,” you admit, dragging your mouth over his ear. “But have you ever been to a strip club? Ever had a lap dance?”
“No.”
“Then shut up and enjoy it.” You release your grip, letting his head fall forward again.
You tug the belt while you’re still behind him, the robe slips off your shoulders.
Jooyeon hears the subtle, soft sound of the silk sliding down your skin… the faint rustling sound as it falls to the ground. He tilts his head back again as if he could catch a glimpse if you, but you stand still and wait, stretching the anticipation.
Finally, you step into view. He freezes.
For a long second he doesn’t move nor speak. It seems like he’s forgotten how to breathe too. The amusement he wore earlier is gone, now he’s just stunned… with mind blank and body heating up from desire.
“Jesus Christ…” he mutters, shifting in the chair. His gaze travels over you slowly, like he’s drinking in every detail and memorising it one by one. “That’s all for me?”
The lace, delicate and obviously expensive, clings to your curves like second skin, framing your chest to perfection. Pretty, thin straps trail over your shoulders while a barely there thong, which he needs to feel on his tongue so badly, completes the set.
It’s tormenting… everything is so thin and translucent.
“Yeah,” you answer, curling your lips as you take a step back. “Happy birthday, baby.”
Jooyeon exhales shakily in disbelief - of your beauty... and his own luck. A low laugh escapes his lips.
You’re not a professional dancer by any means, but you do a great job of following every beat, like you and the music are one - hips rolling, shoulders swaying, fingertips skimming slowly down your thighs. Meanwhile, he can only still and watch.
You see the way his chest rises faster as you keep moving naturally, doing a swift spin before you bend over, showing off your ass while shaking it lightly left to right.
“Shit, baby…” He grunts, hands suddenly moving, tugging at the fabric of his pants like he can’t bare the feeling of his own clothes anymore. “Can’t take my eyes off you.”
“Then don’t.” You mutter before smacking your butt cheek. “Keep watching.”
“Fuck—let me see that one more time.”
“This?” You smirk, landing another sharp slap across your ass. You trail your fingers over the immediate sting before giving your heated flesh a squeeze, jiggling it shamelessly only to smack it again, but harder this time.
Jooyeon’s reaction is quick - he grips onto the arms of the chair, knuckles going white.
“Yeah, baby…” his voice drops almost to a whisper. “You look so fuckin’ sexy right now.”
Without a word, you hook fingers beneath the delicate hem of your thong and tug it down an inch. You want him to see the fabric stretch, threaten to reveal something more.
His eyes fixate on the slow movement, as if with enough concentration, he can remove it, all the way from his seat across the room.
“Are you enjoying the show?” You tease, and with a wicked chuckle, you drag the lace back into place with a playful snap of the waistband against your hip.
“I’m enjoying it,” he says, watching you with hungry, devouring eyes.
But his voice, that’s gradually roughening, falters as you lower yourself to your knees, reminding him how beautifully your back can arch; how appetising is the view between your thighs.
He slowly leans forward, resting both elbows on his knees. His lips part as the sight alone makes his mouth water.
“I’m enjoying it a lot,” he adds distractedly, biting on his lower lip as his gaze glues to the string of your thong that’s decorating your pussy lips. He grips on his boner, not to adjust, but to gain some relief. “I have the prettiest slut on stage dancing just for me... What’s not to enjoy?”
His composure begins to crack. He remembers how you clench when he slides his fingers inside, he remembers the heat, the slickness, your begging; you’ve always been so quick to soak for him.
He can bet you’re already wet just from having him sit there and watch you.
“Are you wet?” He leans back, palm rubbing over the hard outline straining against his sweatpants.
You glance over your shoulder, tugging your thong to the side, then slip one finger into your slick entrance. The heat swallows it instantly and without hesitation you add another. Despite the music you still hear it because it’s obscene - the undeniable squelching noise coming from your pussy walls that are wetter than you expected.
Jooyeon groans behind you and the rough sound of it is enough to make you pulse tighter.
At first, you don’t bother answering. You flash him a small but sinful smile, and pull out your fingers, lifting your hand in front of your face. There are strings of arousal clinging to your skin, glistening. You part your fingers slowly, staring at the essence solely to taunt the boy behind you whose intense gaze feels like weight on your body.
Then, finally you murmur: “A little bit.” You bring them to your mouth, wrapping your lips around both and cleaning the mess off your skin.
Jooyeon’s jaw flexes; his hips jerk upwards the same moment his hand palms his erection more insistently.
Turning to face him, you crawl forward on your hands and knees, swaying your ass in the rhythm of the passionate music. You drag your palms up the length of his spread out thighs, inviting your fingers dangerously close to the tent in his pants only to drift away. Soon enough, you climb higher so your breasts hover just inches from his face.
His lustful and bold eyes trail down, eating up the view. When you lean forward ever so slightly, following the sultry beat, his self-control vanishes - his big hands squeeze your tits together as he leans in with tongue sticking out for an open mouthed kiss; his tongue is hot on your cleavage, eager in an unfamiliar yet thrilling way.
“No… touching,” you whisper, trying to sound stern, but your excited grin betrays you. “Respect the club’s policy, please.”
Jooyeon groans in frustration, running his tongue over his lips like a starving man. “You’re killing me,” he rasps, looking up at you.
His dark eyes are enticingly dazed; their impact nearly throws you off balance. Suddenly, your steady heartbeat quickens, now thumping in your ears too. As if on cue the music shifts - a new song starts playing with a beat just a little faster but still as dirtier as the rest; perfect for a striptease.
Suppressing the fire curling intensely in your stomach, you focus on your bra. You hook fingers under one strap, dragging it down your shoulder… only to slide it right back up. You repeat the same thing with the other, letting a coy smile form on your lips as your lower half moves seductively.
However, your gaze drops to Jooyeon’s lap, distracted by his sudden movements. His hand dips into one of his pockets, pulling out his wallet. Calmly, and without leaving you out of sight, he flicks it open.
Your brows lift in surprise when a few bills appear between his fingers. He starts fanning them lazily until he lifts them with a perky grin. The sight, especially after he tilts his head in a silent provocation, forces a quiet laugh out of you.
Still swaying your hips to the music, you lean in with a playful roll of your eyes. You won’t deny, though, you’re impressed at how naturally he plays along.
He pushes the money bills between the cups of your bra, knuckles grazing your skin temptingly.
Unconsciously, your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - a small betrayal from your body as the heat simmers stronger now. Your breath stutters, your nails drag across your own skin, determined to compose yourself while he stuffs the lace.
Meanwhile, his grin deepens with satisfaction; he’s aware of the effect this has on you.
“So you’re really enjoying this a lot, huh?” You murmur, trying to bring back your nonchalant act.
“Policy, sweetheart,” he says, low and smug. “I can’t touch so I tip instead.”
You streighten, letting the music take over again.
Turning your back to him, you bend slowly, offering a view of your ass swaying right in front of his face; the bills crinkle softly in your bra with every next motion.
“Just don’t go broke on your birthday,” you tease, catching his sharp inhale that makes you grin over your shoulder.
“For you…” he says, breath hitching; each erotic circle of your hips makes your ass grind closer to his boner, and that makes his self-control grow thinner and thinner. “It’d be totally worth it.”
To drive him nuts even further, you sneak fingers under the thin straps of your thong and pull them aside before letting them snap back against your skin.
“Oh fuck, baby…” He groans, rough with desire. His hands lift from the back of the chair but freeze halfway in the air. Remembering your rule, he clenches them into fists, knuckles white as he fights his own needs. A curse slips through his lips. “Damn it, you’re so fuckin’ sexy… I’m so hard, fuck— rub it harder on me.”
You grind back with a little more pressure, dragging your pussy over his solid length through the thin barrier.
“That’s it,” he breathes out as his chest rises faster at the magnifying thrill. “Just like that… good girl. Look at that sexy ass.”
The friction is torturous but in the best way possible… enough to spark your nerves and make your thin lace wet, but not enough to satisfy your need. Each rotation of your hips floods your core with a new wave of warmth as you keep grinding against him, pressing against his bulge more and more persistently.
Jooyeon, staring down like someone on the verge of snapping, keeps cussing under his breath, fists occasionally gripping the air at his sides, occasionally - the arms of the chair. The intensity of his husky voice, of his body tensing beneath you… it’s a dangerous thrill threatening to result into your own body giving in.
But you resist - it’s fun seeing him lose control while you dictate every action.
“Mmm…” you barely manage to swallow the creeping moans as your fingers travel down your stomach only to find the damp spot of your thong.
You push it aside, teasing yourself by pressing your slick folds against him once… then twice. Certainly staining his sweats with dark wet marks every time you drop onto his lap.
“Fuck! You wanna bounce on it, baby? Already, hm?” The corner of Jooyeon’s mouth slides into a perky smirk that remains after he hears you let out a raw moan. “You dirty little slut…”
You rise slowly, slightly woozy and flushed, with immensely excited pulse. Still facing away, you give him one last delicious sway of your ass before sliding the thong down your thighs. You step out of it with grace just when the next track in your playlist begins.
After you pick it up, you turn around and toss it his way.
Jooyeon snatches it swiftly, closing fingers around the delicate fabric. His gaze almost burns your skin once it lands upon you.
You flash him a flirtatious smile as he brings the lace to his face, brushing his lips with the fabric. For a moment, his full attention is fixed on the thong clenched in his hand - tasting it, whiffing it, feeling it inside his palm.
However, his focus snaps back to you when you remove your bra next, not glancing at the money spilling to the floor even once because you’re busy stepping closer to pull at the waistband of his sweatpants.
“You tipped me so well tonight… so generously.” you murmur softly, dragging them lower and lower. “And it’s your birthday after all…”
His cock springs free - rock hard, flushed and mouth watering with its swollen, glistening tip. The sight immediately makes the heat in your tummy swirl excitingly.
Not wasting time, you wrap a hand around the thick base, squeezing delicately the way he likes.
“You deserve a special treatment,” you finish, glancing up at him with a coy look.
Jooyeon’s jaw tenses as his eyes follow every action of yours. But when your fist finally moves properly, making the first few strokes - in that calm, sensual rhythm which resembles the dance of your hips from earlier…
“Fuck—“ he groans loudly, shamelessly; his head falls back from relief. “Ah, f-fuck…”
The guttural sounds continue rumbling from his chest - deep, desperate and arousing. They only elevate higher after you attach your warm tongue to his oozing tip, flicking it left and right for extra stimulation.
“Shit, baby, that’s… holy fuck— I love when you do that.“
You lift your gaze again, spitting on the head of his cock before proceeding stroking him. “I know,” you purr as a response.
Unknowingly, Jooyeon lifts his hips, as if to chase your fist that smears the moisture in nice, thrilling drags. “Baby,” he says at once, keeping his eyes shut and his head tilted; his words slip low and breathy but not the peaceful kind. “Give me that pussy, baby… now, please.”
“Anything for my generous birthday boy,” you smile.
! please do not repost, copy or translate my works
! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed
✎… one night stand?, soft!dom!reader, protected sex, oral sex (m!rec), fingering, hand kink
( masterlist )
Hyeongjun loves art.
He loves the scent of paper and acrylic paint, the relaxing rasp of a pencil being sharpened, the quiet flutter of sketchbook pages turning, but he also loves you - the pretty face behind the counter.
Lucky for him, his hobby gives him the perfect excuse to keep finding new reasons to come back and see you.
“Did you forget something?”
Hyeongjun slows his footsteps, letting his gaze to linger upon you a little longer. It’s why he’s here, after all. At home, he has all the supplies he needs - he was here just three days ago.
“I, uh… I finished my sketchpad.” He rubs the back of his neck, noticing a playful twitch at the corner of your mouth.
“Already?” You lean over the counter, intertwining fingers. “Or did you just miss me?”
A quiet, flustered laugh escapes Hyeongjun’s lips as he momentarily looks down, unable to control his reaction to your teasing. He knows you’re completely aware of his attraction to you… but how can he tell if you feel even the slightest spark in return?
He head towards the shelves, reaching for a fresh sketchpad, plus a new set of charcoal pencils, because he can never have too many of those.
When he’s back at the counter, the heat hits him instantly. As always, the closeness to you comes with side effects: dizziness, warm twisting in his stomach, quickening pulse. His gaze, drawn to the way your shirt curves over your appetising chest, slows as if he’s just taken a drag from a joint.
The sharp clicking of keys snaps him out of it. Your fingers must be flying over the keyboard, but to him, everything moves in slow motion.
Don’t stare at her hands, he tells himself, don’t stare at her hands, don’t st—
“Well, well,” you grin brightly. “It’s your birthday today!”
Hyeongjun’s head snaps up.
“What… How did you know?”
“Your customer account,” you explain briefly. The curl on your lips turns more conspiratorial as you continue: “This means… you get a special birthday discount.”
Hyeongjun’s expression shifts, something between amusement and uncertainty.
“I didn’t know that was a thing here.”
It’s not. But for him it is.
“It is now,” you chirp, tilting your head flirtatiously. “You get half off any product you want, or… a special mystery bonus from me. Your choice.”
And though you play it off like nothing, the effect on Hyeongjun is immediate, causing his palms to grow warm against the counter surface. His eyes can’t decide whether to hold your bright gaze or rest on the sly curve of your mouth.
There’s a challenge in your stare… and he wants to accept it so bad. It feels like it’s meant for him.
“I… uhm—” He swallows, running his tongue along his lips. “I’ll go with the special… mystery bonus.”
Your smile widens, yet your eyes briefly flicker away… are you suddenly nervous? Like him?
“Good pick, birthday boy.” You slide the bag with his purchase.
“Hyeongjun,” he murmurs with the corners of his mouth still twitching.
You nod, the smile not leaving your face either. Then, leaning close enough that your words are for him alone, you whisper:
“Wait for me outside. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes.”
So he does.
The seconds stretch unbearably for him, but when you step out, he’s still there - leaning casually against the wall with hands in his pockets so he can look composed… because he’s not composed at all.
You tilt your head towards the narrow staircase that’s right beside the store entrance. One simple follow me slips from your mouth as a faint grin tugs at it.
With no hesitation, he follows you.
You reach a door at the top. After you unlock it, ushering him insde he finds out your apartment is small and modest with warm light and many art posters. Before he can take in more than just a glimpse of your space, though, you close the gap between you. Your hands grab onto his collar and like that - your lips are on his; firm and sweet.
Everything around him melts. Before he can even process the rush in your eyes or the eagerness of your mouth, he’s pressed against the mattress of your bed - pants left on the floor along with your own.
You kiss him again with just as much fire, biting on his bottom lip as you force your hips moving. Hyeongjun gasps at the thrill of your wet panties brushing against his hard cock, and you swallow the helpless sound with delight.
Insistently, your mouth deepens the moment further, and as a result his grip tightens on your lower waist, so harshly like it’s getting hard to breathe under your touch.
When you straighten to catch your breath, your eyes meet; there’s astonishment glinting in his gaze as it lingers upon your figure which is resting so naturally on top of him, as if you’ve done this before.
You take his hand, lifting it gently to your face. His tattoos have always intrigued you but this is the first time you get to admire them up close. They’re subtle, not too bold, not too many, just enough to catch your eye and highlight the rough elegance of his long, slender fingers.
“Your hands are so sexy,” you murmur, tracing the inside of his palm with your tongue. The soft, wet glide makes his lips part in surprise. You do it again, savouring the thrill that runs through him. “Your fingers too… I’d like to find out how they feel.”
You press an erotic smooch to his skin before dragging upwards, your tongue swirling lazily around one of his fingers before you draw it into your mouth.
Hyeongjun exhales a shaky laugh, but his eyes are darkening as his fingertip slides onto your wet tongue.
“I like yours too,” he whispers, feeling thin layer of saliva trickling down his hand. “And your lips…god—“
His breathing picks up from the various sensations - the gentle sucking of your lips, the grinding motions of your body that cause more oozing pre-cum… the pretty sight of you finding simple pleasure from his taste. They all clash inside him like warm waves, one after another.
You invite a second finger, hollowing cheeks to suck slowly. That pulls a small moan out of him; the erotic sound doubles the warmth inside your core.
Hyeongjun’s other hand reaches for your chest, slipping beneath your shirt to feel more of you. His grip is greedier than you expect, but immensely exciting. It has you mewling around his fingers before detaching sloppily.
Shifting to the side, you lower your mouth to his dick.
The moment Hyeongjun sees the change in your position, he knows exactly what his next move should be. His hand pulls your panties to the side and his fingers slide against your entrance.
There’s so much heat, so much slickness… it makes him bite down on his lip, struggling to contain the moan that’s threatening to escape.
As you finally envelop him with your mouth, his fingers continue teasing, dragging back and forth between your slippery folds.
Soon enough, he can’t hold back anymore - he moans lowly, his stomach tensing as you force yourself down to his base.
You stretch the moment by waiting a few seconds before returning to his tip, magnifying the sensation through soft sucking.
The sounds escaping you both multiply in no time, making the air around you hot and heavy with lust.
“Fuck—“ Hyeongjun breathes, voice getting rougher as you swirl your tongue around him. In return, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right.
Immediately, you clench, your mouth falling open with a gasp. “Fuck— yes!”
Too overwhelmed, you can’t take him back into your mouth right away, but your hand tightens lightly around him, stroking him in deliberate tugs. In the meantime his fingers glide deeper, making your voice tremble as he massages your walls.
“Oh, God!” Your uneven breathing blends with the wet sounds of his hand as it matches the speed of your slick grip. “They feel so nice… I knew your fingers would feel amazing.”
Hyeongjun’s hips unintentionally buck up again, eyes shutting tight as he tries to chase your fist. “Please, fuck— keep going…”
For a moment it’s like his desperation spills over, shifting his actions from cautious to rougher and unrestrained. His fingers start pumping deeper and faster, finding that special spot inside you that makes your stomach tighten from pleasure.
And your body gives you away completely… showing just how badly you’ve been wanting him.
A whimper falls from your tongue as your hips roll toward his hand, and not a single minute after - your frame twitches from a dizzying climax.
Hyeongjun’s lips separate in awe as he watches you twitch from the sensation, savouring the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, hot and strong… the arousal coating his knuckles.
When he pulls out, the urge to taste you is unbearable. He rests his shiny fingertips on his tongue; at first, looking hesitant. But then, his mouth closes, his eyes locked on yours as you follow his actions.
“Go ahead,” you encourage him with a little smile. “See how I taste.”
The moment your arousal spreads across his flat tongue, Hyeongjun’s lashes flutter and a small humm of satisfaction escapes his chest. It’s everything he’s imagined, everything he’s craved… the sweetness, the salt, the warmth.
One he opens his eyes, he looks slightly stunned, but more than that - addicted.
He drags his fingers through his lips slowly, glancing at them as though this brief moment could’ve been a product of his imagination. Then, when he looks back up at you, he realises you’ve grabbed a condom.
You tear the wrapper with ease, then slide the rubber over his length with nice, practiced strokes until he’s properly covered. You don’t miss out on the way his chest rises harshly in anticipation.
“Want you to fill it up for me, birthday boy.” you chuckle teasingly as you straddle him, already guiding him to your entrance.
Then, you sink down - a single, slow motion that has your slick walls stretching to welcome him.
Hyeongjun’s hands grasp onto your hips as he lets out a strangled moan, his head pressing back against the pillow.
“Holy fuck—“ his voice is full of emotion and something close to disbelief. “You feel… you feel so… unreal—fuck!”
Settled fully onto his lap, you’ve began to freely roll your hips, enjoying every inch of him. The thrill has your core immediately heating up again - and his too; his grip on your sides grows harsher, almost bruising.
Meeting his dazed eyes, you lean forward, brushing your lips against his ear.
“Happy birthday.” You whisper, breathy and warm.
Then, you precisely snap your hips down, again and again, filling the room with ragged moans and the sounds of your bodies colliding with each bounce.
! please do not repost, copy or translate my works
! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed
