synopsis | nsfw headcanons for fem!fuma, who can't help but tease you with photos while you're stuck at work.
details | fem!fuma x gender neutral!reader, established relationship, gf fuma whens it my turn, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, flirting, messy kissing, teasing, fingering, BUSH ALERT, slight overstim, squirting, lowercase intended, cursing, proofread but apparently it doesnt matter #me the bad bitch
wc | 2k
from the author | i was possessed by the spirit of rush fuma and entranced by the spirit of wv live fuma. very conflicting combo
fem!fuma who took the liberty of snoozing your alarm for twenty extra minutes this morning, keeping you caged in her arms way past the time you needed to be up and nearly making you late.
fem!fuma who watched through her dark lashes, eyes heavy, as you scrambled to throw your work clothes on, skin still warm from where her leg had you pinned to the mattress. you thought that every item of clothing adhering to your workplace’s dress code was unflattering, but fuma didn’t have any problem peeling them off of you at the end of every day. “you’re so sexy in business casual,” she would tease, smoothing the wrinkles out of your tucked shirt.
fem!fuma who took the day off and bragged for the entire week that she wasn’t going to get out of bed, that she was going to be so well-rested that you wouldn’t even recognize her.
fem!fuma who was still in the bed when you left, buried under blankets and looking softer than ever, who begged you for a goodbye kiss but didn’t even try to sit up, forcing you to claw your way through the blankets to find her lips.
fem!fuma who lazed around all day, bored out of her pretty little mind. she played games until her eyes went fuzzy, brain fully liquid in her skull, and she tried reading one of your books that you’d recommended to her many moons ago. but her eyes were still fuzzy and the words looked like little ants crawling around on the page.
fem!fuma who missed you, even though you hadn’t been away that long.
fem!fuma who rummaged through your closet, smelling your clothes and frowning because they smelled like laundry detergent, like april lilies and fresh rain, instead of like you. instead of your skin, your sweat.
fem!fuma who stepped on something– your clothes from this morning, from last night. your cute, oversized t-shirt, crumpled and cold but, as she pressed it against her face, still lingering with the scent of your sleep. she sniffed at the collar, at the seams along the sleeves, humming to herself.
fem!fuma who had a brilliant idea.
fem!fuma who slipped the t-shirt over her head, letting it fall loosely on her shoulders and drape down over the front of her thighs, the fabric tickling her skin and soothing it at the same time. it wasn’t often she was able to swim in her clothing, most of her shirts clinging to the curves of her biceps, outlining the definition of her torso through the fabric. the shirt felt like an embrace, like a soft kiss to every inch of her skin.
fem!fuma who cleaned her phone’s camera off with the bottom of the shirt and held it high above her head, snapping a photo of the shirt and her legs tangled in the messy blankets of the still unmade bed.
fem!fuma who sent it to you without hesitation, adding an innocent message for you:
[3:22 pm] fuu ᢉ𐭩: missing you (╥﹏╥)
fem!fuma who kicked her feet around in the blankets when you responded almost immediately, like you’d been waiting for her to text.
[3:22 pm] you: sooooo cute in my shirt baby
[3:23 pm] you: i’ll be home soon
[3:23 pm] you: don’t move i wanna cuddle asap
fem!fuma who sent you another photo, this time with the hem of the shirt hiked up, material bunched in a fist and revealing the intricate lace of her panties underneath.
[3:25 pm] fuu ᢉ𐭩: just wanna cuddle ?
fem!fuma who turned her phone off and tossed it to the edge of the bed, snickering to herself as the notifications rolled in at record speed– fifteen responses from you over the course of an hour, the vibrations lulling fuma back to sleep, dreaming of you until she could have you physically there.
fem!fuma who looked so peaceful when you got home; her hair was spiked up in seemingly every direction, mussed by the pillow she’d been laying on all day, just as she promised she would. fuma’s mouth was slightly agape, small snores tumbling out and landing right on your heart.
fem!fuma who stirred, lightly, as you brushed the back of your hand over the flushed skin of her cheek, red from her many, many naps. you brushed her hair flat, smoothing her jagged silhouette, and she hummed, as if she were still dreaming. you couldn’t bite back the smile at the sight of her, unusually delicate in your shirt, the material twisted twice around her torso and hanging off her shoulder.
fem!fuma who cracked one eye open when she felt the mattress dip beside her, a grin replacing her tranquil pout at the sight of your face across from hers and only getting wider when you asked, “all rested up?”
fem!fuma who quipped back, “i was working on it,” she closed her eyes again, pulling the blanket up to her chin, “someone woke me up.”
fem!fuma who adored how easily she got under your skin. her heart doubled in size every time you rolled your eyes at her, tripled when you let your annoyed exterior give way to a smile because you loved it, too.
fem!fuma who apologized immediately by pulling you under the blanket with her, holding you impossibly close, so close that you could have slid under the tshirt with her. her skin was warm, unusually pliant, like worked clay, under the weight of your arms encircling her waist. everything about her lured you closer, your face buried in the soft material of her– your– shirt.
fem!fuma who still needed you closer.
fem!fuma who gripped your hips with firm hands and situated you over her own, who giggled at the surprised sound that escaped you. your hands kept you steady, splayed flat on the rigid, toned contours of her stomach that the t-shirt all but erased. something unlocked inside of you at the sight of her; all of her edges were softened, her expression bright and mischievous.
fem!fuma who watched every movement of your hands as you slid them under her shirt, raking your fingertips over every inch of her torso, fanning over her ribs and tracing the dips right above the pesky lace underwear she’d slipped on knowing they would drive you crazy. her voice shook, adrenaline buzzing low in her chest, as she asked, “what happened to cuddling?”
fem!fuma whose mouth watered and stomach flipped and all the cliches as you replied with, “we’ll cuddle after i ruin these pretty little panties,” and leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, one that said you’re never staying home alone again.
fem!fuma who wasn’t used to you being so forward but was insanely turned on by how hungry you seemed, how you didn’t hesitate to prod your tongue against hers, relishing in the heat of her mouth and tangling your hands in her hair to keep your lips from parting for too long. she moaned against you, a gratifying whimper that only encouraged you; you sucked her plush bottom lip into your mouth, and she sank her fingertips into the flesh of your ass.
fem!fuma who was only teasing earlier, playfully torturing you with the plump curves of her thighs against the dainty lace.
fem!fuma who now couldn't be sure that she wouldn't absolutely be sending you more pictures while you were apart, your hands shoving the excessive material of the t-shirt high above her chest and dragging your teeth over her hardened, budding nipple and soothing over the sensitive skin with a languid drag of your tongue.
fem!fuma who felt herself dripping through the fabric, unusually needy and blaming it all on the way your eyes darkened as you leaned back up to press your lips to hers. you swallowed her gasp as you cupped her needy cunt over the top of the panties, the lace rough on your palm as you ground the heel of it down on her clit.
fem!fuma who broke the kiss to curse, having worked herself up all day thinking about this very moment. she groaned, deep in her throat, rolling her hips harder against your hand. “take ‘em off,” she urged, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
fem!fuma who whined when you shook your head, “too pretty in them. besides,” you tsked, “you didn’t have a problem wearing them earlier, hm?”
fem!fuma who couldn’t complain when you finally slipped your hand down the front of her panties, the fabric keeping the heat of your hand closer to where she ached for you, confined between the scratchy lace and the soft tufts of hair that you adored.
fem!fuma who made the most sinful noises as you collected her slick on your fingers, encircling her throbbing, tender clit. she was so responsive, gasping with every change in pressure and whimpering against your lips as you slid one finger, then two, inside of her.
fem!fuma who sucked you in, physically, with your fingers gliding out of her as far as they could with the panties stretching out over the back of your hand, fingers sliding back in easier each time. the heat of her, the squeeze of her walls around your flexing digits, the swell of her exposed chest, the labored flexing of her core– it was everything you’d been dreaming of all day, miserable while she slept, unbothered.
fem!fuma who didn’t even realize you were trying to get revenge, too drunk on the press of your thumb on her clit as you curled your fingers jsut right again and again, scraping against the eager flesh of her cunt. the sounds were so lewd, the wet squelch of her pussy mixed with the soft tearing of the fabric as your wrist bent to hit that spot inside of her you knew so well. every sound, however, ranked way below the way her delicious moans dwindled to a pathetic string of grunts and whines.
fem!fuma who begged you not to stop, choking on her moans. “gonna come,” she warned, “gonna come on your fingers, baby. fuck, keep fucking me like that- im close.”
fem!fuma who came unraveled on your fingers in a wave of turbulence, her thighs clenching around your hand as her hips jerked around you. her mouth fell open, but her throat was closed, suffocating her cries into short, muffled whines. her back arched, just enough to send your fingers deeper into her, rolling her hips as you fucked her through her orgasm.
fem!fuma who wrapped her fingers around your wrist as you kept fucking her through her orgasm and then some, moans turning desperate from the overwhelming sensation of your thumb still bristling against her spent clit, fingertips still dragging relentlessly along her sensitive walls.
fem!fuma who squeezed her eyes shut, reeling in the shift in the angle as you finally yanked the cute, lacy panties down her thighs, driving your fingers up, deeper into her. you feathered your fingers over the curls above her clit, scissoring your fingers inside of her with one hand and stroking her swollen bud with the other.
fem!fuma who mewled, “too much, too much,” as she fisted at the wrinkled sheets beneath her, “shit, baby, it’s– fuck– too-”
fem!fuma who barely finished begging you to give her a break before her second release crashed into her, coating your hand in an abrupt and hard-earned gush. you slowed your fingers, a satisfied groan leaving your lips as she twitched under you, limp everywhere but her clenching, throbbing pussy. “so good for me,” you cooed, curling your fingers one final time inside of her and smirking as she jerked, sensitive, “so beautiful.”
fem!fuma who really was so beautiful, fucked out and dazed, eyes fluttering closed like she hadn’t been sleeping all day.
fem!fuma who didnt know whether to kiss or kill you as you flopped down next to her and said, “i, uh, have to wash the sheets and stuff.”
fem!fuma who decided the answer was kiss when you continued, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, “wanna cuddle on the couch?”
SUMMARY: A quiet after-hours date at your boyfriend’s auto shop gets a little more interesting the second he pulls you into a slow dance!
WC: 2.7k words
DISCLAIMERS: fluff!!!!! slow dancing involved. thanks. and then smut okay. [ minors / ageless blogs dni pls! ] fingering, oral (f receiving) an eater ofc thanks. edging…… unprotected sex (pls wrap b4 u tap!!!!!). & shoutout … for u 🐶 anon :3
The auto shop always sounded different after closing.
Without the constant flurry of running engines and ringing phones, the garage softened quietly — with low music drifting from the old speaker near Shota’s toolbox, the humming of the overhead fluorescent lights, and the occasional metallic clink when he set a wrench down somewhere behind you.
The whole garage smelled like motor oil mixed with greasy burgers and the faint cologne that lingered on Shota’s hoodie you’d stolen from home earlier. You sat on a nearby workbench, legs swinging gently while picking fries from the takeout carton resting beside you.
“What happened to you saying you’d help me?” He called from across the garage, walking toward you.
“I’m supervising,” You called out, correcting him immediately. “Super important job.”
Your boyfriend laughed softly, as he shut the toolbox beside you before disappearing toward the back sink. You could hear running water for a moment, then the rustle of paper towels.
When he came back, you noticed how he looked unfairly pretty for someone who’d spent the entire day under cars. His dark hair messy, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a little tired around the eyes in the prettiest way possible. His hands were finally clean now too, freshly washed and still slightly damp when he reached over to steal a quick kiss.
He stood between your legs, a smile so wide. He was just obsessed with you. “Did you you finish my fries?” His eyebrow quirked as he glanced at the empty carton.
“Don’t worry, I saved you the crumbs.”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
You grinned before correcting him again. “Love me, actually.”
Shota only shook his head fondly, stealing the drink from your hands for a sip before setting it aside.
"I do love you," He said quietly, his eyes tracing slowly across your face — your forehead, your cheekbones, your lips — as if committing every detail to memory. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. "More than I probably should."
He was quiet for a moment, and that made you nervous. God.. you’ve been with him since junior high and he still managed to make you feel like a pre-teen with a hallway crush.
"Sorry I couldn’t take you out tonight like I promised," Shota said softly, “Wasn’t really my ideal scenario to order you burgers at my place of work while I fix up some rich person's car.” He said with a giggle.
You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it — I get it! You’re the most hardworking person I know. It will never erase how much I love you.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his dark eyes softening at the sight of you. "Dance with me?“
He didn't need to say anything else after you smiled. Shota turned and reached for the speaker — the one that had been blaring some classic rock station, all guitar solos and masculine bravado. He switched it with a twist of a knob, and the garage filled with something entirely different: a slow, soulful R&B melody.
"Come on," He said softly, and the tone in his voice made something low in your belly tighten.
He took your hand — his palm warm and calloused against yours — pulling you off the counter and into the middle of the garage floor.
His arms wrapped around your waist, and you felt the strength in them, the careful control. Your hands found his shoulders first, then slid up to his neck, your fingers threading into the hair at his nape. It was soft, silky, and darker than the oil stains on the concrete.
He leaned in, and his forehead came to rest against yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, so close you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.
"Just wanna hold you like this for a while," He breathed, and that made your chest ache.
You swayed together, finding a pace that had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the way your bodies fit together. Your feet shuffled on the gritty floor, and you could feel every grain of sand and metal shaving through your shoes. You laughed as his hands slid down your back, pressing into the small of it, pulling you closer until there was no space left between.
You could feel every plane and angle of his body against yours. The song murmured on, a low groove that seemed to sync with your heartbeat, or maybe your heartbeat had synced with it — you couldn't tell anymore.
His lips brushed your temple, feather-light, then your cheek, then hovered over your mouth. You could taste the anticipation in the air, as if he was asking permission for this as if you haven’t done this before. It’s only like you’ve been together for years.
You answered by closing the distance.
The two of you kissed slowly, almost like you were re-learning the shape and texture of each other's lips.
His felt softer, slightly chapped from the dry air, and they moved against yours with a careful reverence that made your knees weak. But the heat built fast, exponentially, like a chemical reaction reaching critical mass.
His tongue slid against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed and becoming part of him. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling at the roots, and he groaned — a deep, guttural sound that you felt in your bones. His hips pressed forward involuntarily, and you felt the hard line of his cock against your thigh through the heavy fabric of his coveralls.
"Fuck," Shota breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, reflecting the fluorescent lights like distant stars. "You still manage to make me feel crazy after all these years." He whispered with a mischievous grin, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
"Yeah? Prove it to me," You said, your voice barely a whisper, but it was enough.
He didn't need to be told twice. His hands found your waist, and he lifted you effortlessly — you tend to forget how strong he was, but maneuvering engines and transmissions made sense translating to this.
He carried you back to the workbench. The metal surface was shockingly cold against your thighs as he set you down, and the contrast made you gasp. He stood back between your legs, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in, and you'd never felt safer.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring your mouth with more confidence. His hands roamed down your body — over your breasts, feeling the weight of them through your clothes, your stomach, the curve of your hip. He pulled his sweatshirt off of you allowing it to fall on the floor with a thud. The cold air bit your skin immediately, raising goosebumps, but his warmth was everywhere, chasing away the chill.
His lips trailed down your jaw, your throat, and he sucked a mark into the sensitive skin below your ear, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. You arched into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.. you needed him closer.
He groaned against your neck, and you felt his hand slide under your shirt, his palm flat and hot against your stomach, his calluses catching slightly on your skin. "Need to feel you," He said, his voice muffled against your skin, vibrating through you.
His hands moved to your jeans, fingers working the button quickly before he tugged them down your legs along with your underwear, the fabric catching on your shoes before you kicked everything off. The pile of clothing landed somewhere on the floor, but you seriously didn't care where.
He stepped back just enough to look at you—naked from the waist down, perched on his workbench like an offering, your legs spread open for him, vulnerable and wanting.
"So pretty," He breathed, and his words sounded like a prayer before he leaned back in.
His tongue teased against yours, wet and warm, while one hand slid down the curve of your waist, fingers grazing the bare skin of your hip. Lower still, he traced the inside of your thigh — no fabric to stop him, just the soft heat of your flesh under his calloused palm. You pulled back just enough to breathe, a whimper escaping against his mouth — the ache between your legs was a living thing now, pulsing in time.
He answered without words as his hand slid between your thighs, finding you slick, swollen, and exposed. A single finger eased inside with no delay, the sensation was electric with the way his thumb circled your sensitive bud just once before he pushed deeper. The stretch was exquisite, a burn melted into pleasure while he worked another finger in and out.
A moan tore from your throat — low and almost animalistic. He swallowed it with a messy kiss, his tongue sliding against yours once again while his fingers curled upward, pressing against that sweet spot deep inside.
Your hips bucked into his hand, chasing the pressure, your breath hitching. "Please don’t stop," You whimpered against his mouth, the word barely coherent between kisses.
Without warning, he pulled away — doing the exact opposite of what you asked. The sudden emptiness made you whimper aloud, a sound that echoed off the concrete floor and metal tool chests.
But then he was on his knees.
His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise, spreading you wide open on the cold steel of the workbench. He leaned in, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your leg — slow and torturous. He climbed higher and higher until his warm breath ghosted over your cunt, making you shiver and arch into the promise of his tongue.
Your fingers found his dark hair again, tangling in the strands, needing something to anchor you. "Please.”
He didn't make you wait, because he never did. Quickly, his tongue slid through your folds, slow, making sure to taste every inch of you. You gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth involuntarily.
He hummed in approval, and the vibration sent sparks of pleasure radiating through your body. He lapped at your clit with flat strokes, broad and firm, before circling it with the tip of his tongue.
"Sho—" His name fell from your lips like it was the only word you could remember. He gazed up, his mouth still on you, his eyes dark and half-lidded with desire. Without warning, he pushed two fingers back into you, and you cried out at the sudden fullness and the way he curled them upward, finding that spot again that made you see stars burst behind your eyelids.
The workbench creaked beneath you as your back arched, your body trying to process the overwhelming sensation. "Come on," He gasped against your pussy, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
He fucked you with his fingers, each thrust meaningful, while his tongue worked you in relentless circles. Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling at the roots hard enough that it had to hurt, but he groaned against you once more.
He liked it — you could tell by the way his hips rutted forward against nothing, seeking friction, and the way he pressed his face harder into you, by the desperate edge to his breathing.
"Fuck— I'm gonna—" You started, but the words dissolved into a moan, incoherent and lost.
He pulled his mouth away, his fingers still buried inside you and moving. You whined even louder than the last time. Shota looked up at you with slick lips and wild eyes. "Not yet. Want it on my cock.” He stood, his hand still working with just the right pressure.
He leaned in to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips — and just like it has been all night, his kiss was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongue and full of need.
His fingers slid out of you, and you whimpered once more at the sudden emptiness.
He stepped back quickly, his hands trembling as they worked the loose knot at his hip. His work coveralls were already unzipped, tied at his waist so quickly, they slid down to his thighs and your gaze followed — tracing the hard line straining beneath his boxers. A dark bloom had already spread at the tip, damp and eager, soaking through the thin material.
He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and pushed. His head was slick with a glossy sheen that caught the harsh fluorescent light He wrapped his hand around the base, stroking once, his eyes locked on yours.
"Shit." You sighed in anticipation.
He stepped between your legs, guiding himself to your entrance, pressing his head against you, blunt and hot, and you both held your breath, suspended in this moment before everything changed.
He pushed in, slow, inch by agonizing inch, stretching you around him. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, your head falling back.
"Fuck, my love, you’re tight.” He groaned, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath coming in short pants. He sheathed himself fully, his hips flush against yours, and stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust.
You could feel him trembling with the effort of holding still, of not just taking what he wanted but then he began to move.
His thrusts were deep and slow, a steady rhythm that rocked the workbench against the wall. The metal screeched with each impact, a sound that should have been ugly but instead became part of the symphony.
Your hands found his hair again, wrapping the dark strands around your fists and pulling hard. His head snapped back, exposing the long line of his throat, and a guttural sound escaped him — raw and primal.
"God, I love when you do that," He growled, his voice barely recognizable as he peppered your face with kisses.
You took that as your sign, yanking harder which caused his strokes to equally wreck you. His hips slapped against yours with increasing urgency. He leaned back down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was more a clash of lips and teeth than anything tender.
Shota’s hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing against it in tight, precise circles that took you into another level of pleasure.
"Come on." He panted against your mouth, his voice ragged. "Need to feel you."
The tension inside you snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Your body convulsed around him, your inner walls clenching rhythmically as your cry was swallowed by his mouth. Your orgasm broke over you in rolling waves, clenching deep and hot as he drove into you through the last of it.
He was still chasing his own climax, rhythm fracturing while each breath was hot and ragged against the curve of your throat. A shudder tore through him, and then he pulled out — a slick, sudden emptiness that made you gasp while his hips jerked as he stroked with frantic urgency.
The first spurt caught you off guard. Thick and pearly, it landed hot across your stomach, gleaming in the low light. Another pulse followed, then another, painting your skin in milky ribbons while his entire body locked up, muscles cording tight, a raw, guttural groan ripping from deep in his chest.
He didn't stop. His hand kept working, fingers sliding through his own mess and dragging out every hot ounce until his cock finally softened in his grip.
You pushed up on your elbows, watching him come undone and breathless. When his hand stilled, you dragged a finger slowly through the pool on your stomach, brought it to your lips, and licked it clean with a soft hum of satisfaction as he watched you.
Before you could do it again, his hand was on your chin, tilting your face up, pulling you into another kiss — hot and messy.
“I love you.” He mumbled.
You smiled against his lips. “I love you more.”
💌 mika’s message like wow clearly all i can write is smut LIKE A WHORE idk ok sorry. this is for my beautiful anon 🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶 and also joo bc they love mechanic shota #Real. also i lowk rushed this and im too lazy to fix it so if theres any issues just shshhhhhhh DONT CAREEEUHHH
➻ pairing | idol!jongseob x nonidol!reader
➻ synopsis | your relationship with jongseob has come too close to the pyre once already. you’re not sure if you’ll come out of it this time unscathed.
➻ details | nsfw (mdni), angst, hurt, no comfort, accused cheating, implicit sex
➻ length | 2.8k
➻requested | yes, ty 🐥 anon for requesting!
𓆩⟡𓆪 note || nothing, enjoy <3
It feels like just last week you were tangled up in front of the fireplace, buried under midnight delirium and glasses of red and too loose-limbed to do anything but lay together on the carpeted floor. You swear you could still feel traces of that night linger here; the smell of smoke and sweet perfume burning with the heat of your first kisses, your first confessions. You swear you could still feel his touch, hear his voice, feel his breath against your neck. That night was bright. It was warm.
It’s cold now. The room is dim and the fireplace lays barren where it sits. You watch it from where you stand across the room, a small part of you wishing you could live forever in that fateful night two years ago. It’s now just a distant memory that has etched itself into the corners of your mind and heart.
Two years. Two years that you had spent with him in love, in pain, and all the in between. Two years that you’d laid yourself bare for him, in mind and in body. Two years that you will never get back, now tossed into flames and lain in ashes. Two years of your life that belong entirely to him.
To him, who sits quietly at the bay window, eyes fixed on the empty street outside. Him, who still looks entirely too beautiful, more so draped under moonlight and melancholy. Him, who looks older now, with shoulders of a man who’s carrying the weight of someone much older than himself. A result of being forced to grow too fast in the public’s eye in fear of being left behind by his peers. Him, who took the years that you’ve cherished together and tossed it to flames.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally says.
You don’t know either. You don’t think anything he says now can fix this. “How about you start with telling me it’s not what it looks like.” Your voice is hollow as you speak. You’ve cried your eyes out enough already. There’s no emotion left in you anymore and you feel empty, but at least it’s better than pain.
He says it too quickly, his voice too steady. You’re left considering whether it’s been rehearsed. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know!” He yells, shooting up to his feet. His eyes are wide as he finally looks at you, his ears tinged red. His hair is long and dark now. When he left, it was bright and cropped. You don’t know when the change happened. “I don’t know because I’m telling you the truth.”
“Really, Jongseob?”
He visibly flinches at the name. It sounds foreign from your lips, but you can’t bear to call him anything you’re used to. Nothing about this is anything you’re used to. This band around your chest didn’t exist a year ago but sometime since then it appeared and it’s been getting tighter and tighter, suffocating you little by little with every missed call, with every night not hearing back from him.
Fighting with him feels far too familiar, despite the last time being over a year ago. You’d become overwhelmed with just how much time you’ve had to give up with him because of his job. It ended in screaming and crying and falling into bed with promises of change.
You knew what you were getting into being in a relationship with an idol. You knew in order to be with him, everything had to be tucked away. You’d have to live with clandestine meetings, with phone calls that live too short, with limited time to see him in flesh before he’s treading away to a different part of the world. It was perfectly hidden, he’d made sure of that.
But it became so hidden that you started to question if it was even real in the first place. And maybe he started questioning it too.
You told yourself you’d be okay with all the hiding, because you get to be with the boy you’ve loved for years. You could sacrifice a bit of your sanity if it meant you could keep him. But you didn’t realize you’d have to start giving up more than you had. You didn’t think you’d have to start sacrificing him too, the him that you once knew.
There’s a lot about him now that you’re not used to. He’s changed, become more bold, more confident, more indifferent. And you’re proud of his growth, you really are, but you see the way he acts with some of his fans, girls that are much prettier than you. And rationally, you know that it’s all service, just another part of his job. But at least it was something you came in with knowing you’d have to deal with.
What you weren’t prepared for were images of your boyfriend entering a hotel room with another idol, a woman you know for a fact he’s friends with in his line of work, to be plastered all over social media.
You didn’t realize you’d have to hide your relationship so far deep that he’d begin to forget about you entirely.
Jongseob walks towards you, reaching for your hands. “Love, you know she’s just a friend—”
“Don’t call me that,” you snap, stepping back from him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him but he continues on, taking a step back to give you space.
“Look… I was just helping her back to her room because she was drunk. That’s all it was.”
“Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that night?” You remember that night clear as day; you were sitting by your phone like a pathetic, clingy dog, heart jumping at every notification only to be left with disappointment when it wasn’t from him. You remember then waking up to the article the next morning, the one that tilted your entire world on its axis and rewired everything you thought that you knew about the man you loved.
His frustration bubbles beneath the surface, you can see it in the way he’s twitching with restraint. “For fuck’s sake—” He pauses and takes a breath to calm himself. “We’ve been through this before,” he starts again, steadier. “You know how busy I can get and I can’t always have my phone on me, and honestly I just forget sometimes.”
“No, you’re right,” you say, feeling every petty bone in your body take over. “You’re the man out of time but not when it comes to taking this girl safely home when you could’ve just called someone she knows right?”
His resolve finally snaps. “Is it so bad that I just wanted to make sure my friend got home safe?!”
“You have spent our entire relationship hiding me away and you did it perfectly. But when it comes to her, you manage to slip up?” Your insecurities are at the forefront now, poisoning you with the idea that he would rather be caught out with her than with you. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“So now you’re accusing me of getting caught on purpose? Do you realize how you sound right now?”
“I realize that you didn’t have to go inside her room to make sure she got there safely,” you seethe and that’s what makes him flinch.
He looks away, eyes flickering like he was searching for any last card he could draw. You wait with bated breath for the final pin in the coffin.
He lets out a deep breath, shoulders slumping in defeat. “It was an accident,” he finally admits, and you feel like the earth is ripped out from beneath you.
You knew what happened to begin with, but having him admit to it confirms your worst nightmare. You almost can’t believe it. You don’t want to.
You step back with your heart in your stomach. “Accident?” You ask, incredulous, eyes welling with tears hot and angry. “You just tripped and slipped into her, is that it?”
He snaps back to you grabbing your arm. “No! No, I wouldn’t do that, we were both drunk and I wasn’t thinking but I didn’t let it get farther than just a kiss. You have to believe that.”
You can’t help it. You start to laugh. “Just a kiss?” You push his arm back and walk away from him, needing to put more distance between you. You can’t breathe, you can’t look at him. You just press your head against the upper ledge of the fireplace, choking back your breath. “Right.”
You're not sure how long it is until you hear him right behind you. “I’m sorry.” You feel the ghost of his hands hover at your sides before his arms wind around your waist. You don’t push him away, not even when he buries his head in your shoulder.
You feel your shirt dampen with his tears. Despite everything, your heart aches in twine with his. This is the boy that’s burrowed himself so far deep in your ribs that when he hurts, you hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his arms tightening. His embrace doesn’t feel warm anymore. It feels suffocating. “I swear, as soon as it happened I could only think of you.”
You keep quiet, keep your tears from falling just yet. There’s a long beat of nothing but his quiet sniffles and the rushing wind outside.
“We can fix this, can’t we?” He asks, quiet and uncertain.
Your lips tug into a smile that’s hollow. If only it were that simple.
“Fix this?” You ask him, turning around. You take his arms and place them back at his sides. “Will you tell them about us? Are you gonna finally make it real? Because honestly, I feel like sometimes I’m making you up. That we’re not even real. You’ve become some texts on my phone, Jongseob. And I feel like I’m going crazy from it. And now this?” Your words come out heaving as you search his eyes, looking for any sign of surrender. When he says nothing, you push forward. “Your members don’t even know about me! Neither do your parents! Are we even together?” Your tears are falling now and you’re helpless to stop them as you plead, one last time. “Or am I just the thing that keeps your bed warm for when you come home?”
He steps back like he’s just been punched by your words. “That’s not fair.”
You know then, that there truly is nothing left for you to hold on to. If after all this, he couldn’t give in, there is no answer left for you in this.
The laugh that rips from your throat is pained, jagged. “That’s what I thought.” You turn to leave, but his hand is gripping your arm before you can get far.
“You know I can’t,” he says, trying to pull you back to him. “We can’t. Not now."
You push his arm off of yours. “I don’t want to hear it anymore.” You turn and start to the door, not wanting to give him any more chances to wear you down. “I’m done.”
“So what, that’s it?” He follows after you, voice climbing. “You’re not even going to try?!”
Something ignites in you, something raw and angry that you’ve smothered down for so long in order to preserve your relationship, but there’s nothing left to ruin now anyway. “Don’t!” You scream, whipping back around to him. “I’ve tried, Jongseob, all I’ve fucking done is try! I’ve done everything you asked me to!”
“Just a few more years! That's all I ask!” His hands close around both your arms to hold you to him. His eyes are blown and frantic, rimmed red. You don’t think you’ve seen him this desperate before. You try again to push him off of you but he doesn’t relent this time, he just pulls you closer. “That’s it. Then I swear, everyone will know and all of this can stop and we can be together, in the open, in front of the whole fucking world, I don’t care! Just a few more years and I’ll make all of this worth it.” He’s crying again, promising you anything that he has left in him to give. You’re not sure if it's enough. You can’t let it be enough. You can’t betray yourself like this, not again.
You feel yourself collapse, overwhelmed and sobbing. Your hands fist into his shirt, your head dropping to his chest as you tremble. “I’m tired, Seobie,” you whisper. “I’m so tired. Just let me go.”
One of his arms immediately wind around you to hold you to him like he's afraid you'll pull away again. “I can’t let you go.” His other hand cups your jaw to lift your gaze. His hair falls messy over his eyes, his lashes are damp with the tears that track down his flushed cheeks. Devastation has never looked so pretty on anyone. He searches for something in your gaze and when he finds it, he slides his hand into your hair and pulls you in.
You flinch back in instinct but when you see the way his eyes are begging, your resolve crumbles and you crash your lips to his. It's harsh and you’re both taking, taking the last of whatever’s left within you to give each other. It’s teeth and tears, a plea from his end and a farewell from yours.
“Stay,” he breathes into the kiss before he pulls you in deeper.
“All I’ve done is stay,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back but he won’t let you go far. “You didn’t have to ask me but I stayed.”
His hands drop to hold your hips in an iron grip as he walks you back. “I’m asking you now.”
You grit your teeth when your back hits the wall, caged under his tall frame. “It’s too late now.”
“Then for one last time,” he says, eyes on your lips, leaning back in. “Stay.”
You give in because you know some part of you always will. But this isn’t the same as the last time.
You know it as he takes time to unwrap you, it's not like before. It’s not desperate like you have something to prove, neither is it fueled with the need for it to happen in that second, in that place. It's dragged out, reverent. The way he brings you down to the carpeted floor, in front of that same fireplace, and lets his mouth trail over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to memorize you with his lips alone. The way his hands never stop holding, worshipping, claiming like you’re still his to take. You let him believe it, you let yourself believe he’s finally giving himself over to you.
Flashes of that first night come back to you, bright and golden unlike this cold and grey, and you let yourself believe that you’re there even if it's a foolish belief. You let yourself be foolish for this moment. You let him burn himself into you one last time, let him burrow just a little bit deeper so that you can never forget him.
Neither of you cry, not when he slides into you, not when you call each other’s names, familiar and devout, not even when you let him finish inside of you as one last act of surrender.
Not even as you dress yourself in silence and show yourself out of the place you once called home. Not until you step into your apartment, alone in every sense of the definition.
Jongseob stays on his back even as he hears the door click shut behind you. He doesn’t have the will to drag himself to his bed, the same one he tangled up with you in for years even before he made you his. He just lays there and lets himself replay the memory of you in his arms that very first night. He can still remember your citrus scent and the empty bottles of rosé scattered on the ground. He swears he can still feel your lips against his ear.
A memory. That’s what you’ve become. And it's no one’s fault but his own.
But he learns to live with you as just a memory, one he can’t let go of. One that plays in his head with every woman he brings to his bed. One that plays in his head when he steps out into the spotlight with her hand in his. One he knows will show him through to his grave.
You watch his life move on in pictures, watch him love out in the open for the world to see, the way he couldn’t with you. And even if it feels like another betrayal, you can’t stop yourself from wishing it was his ring on your finger.
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.ᐟ.ᐟGenre: Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff
.ᐟ.ᐟWord Count: ~27.4k
.ᐟ.ᐟSummary: After a drunken bet leads to the best sex of your life, you and Jungwon agree to keep things casual. But when feelings get involved and a new guy enters the picture, everything gets complicated.
.ᐟ.ᐟContent warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), oral sex both giving and receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, use of a vibrator, 69 position, penetrative sex, multiple positions, dirty talk, praise kink, light possessiveness and jealousy kink, dominance and control play, overstimulation, semi-public sex, car sex, shower sex, hickeys, alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, weed use, mutual jealousy, emotional avoidance, brief emotional breakdown, using someone as a rebound, kissing someone while emotionally involved with another, sneaking around, strong language, possessive language, mild angst, happy ending
.ᐟ.ᐟSong: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys
.ᐟ.ᐟAuthors note: hey loves!!, this fic has been living in my head rent free for way too long so i finally just said we’re doing this. please check the content warnings before reading because there is a LOT going on here. two idiots with walls up, terrible at feelings, great at everything else — that’s the whole story honestly. the smut is meant to show emotional progression so if you read closely you’ll notice how they change with each other as feelings develop. daniel was never a villain, just bad timing, please be nice to him 😭 if you made it to the end thank you from the bottom of my heart 💓. comments, likes, feedback and reblogs keep me writing so don’t be a silent reader i am begging, ps. yes the title is intentional. enjoy lovelies 🥰 my masterlist
The apartment reeks of weed, cheap beer, and too many people crammed into too small a space. It’s Jake’s place tonight, which means Maya’s been here since noon helping him “clean” (read: shove everything into closets).
You’re sprawled on the couch between Liv and Reina, a half-empty White Claw sweating in your hand, already feeling the pleasant buzz of your third drink settling into your bones. “I’m just saying,” you announce, louder than necessary, “men are fucking useless.”
“No, I’m serious!” You gesture wildly, nearly sloshing your drink. “Like, is it really that fucking hard to find the clit? Is basic anatomy that complicated?”
“Here we go,” Jay groans again from the floor, leaning back against Sunghoon’s legs. They’re playing some racing game on mute while everyone else talks over them. Reina cackles. “Who are we talking about?”
“That guy from Delta Sig I went home with last weekend.” You take a long drink. “Forty-five minutes of the most mediocre dick of my life and he had the audacity to ask if I came.”
“Did you fake it?” Liv asks, already knowing the answer.
“Fuck no. I told him the truth and he got all butthurt about it.” You roll your eyes. “Like sorry bro, maybe develop some skills.”
“Brutal,” Sunoo says, grinning as he passes the joint to Niki.
“Honest,” you correct. “I don’t have time to protect egos. If you can’t make me cum, I’m not gonna lie about it.”
Across the room, Jungwon is watching you with this amused smirk, one eyebrow raised. He’s been quiet most of the night, nursing the same beer, legs spread wide in that infuriatingly confident way guys sit when they know they look good. And he does look good—black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, hair falling into his eyes just right. “What?” you challenge, catching his stare.
“Nothing.” But his smirk deepens. “Just sounds like you’ve been picking the wrong guys.”
“Oh please.” You lean forward. “Like you’d be any different.”
Something shifts in his expression. His eyes darken, and he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Want me to prove it?”
The room doesn’t exactly go quiet, but you feel like it does. Your stomach does this weird flip. “Prove what?” You keep your voice steady even though your heart is suddenly racing.
“That you’ve been fucking the wrong guys.” He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. But there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at you.
Reina makes a choking sound beside you. Someone—maybe Heeseung—mutters “oh shit” under their breath. You should laugh it off. Make a joke. Change the subject. But you’re drunk enough to be bold and curious enough to wonder if he’s all talk. “You’re that confident?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” No hesitation. “I am.”
The challenge hangs in the air between you. You’re aware of everyone watching, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maya’s eyes are wide. Jay looks like he’s trying to figure out if he should intervene. “Okay.” You stand up, and Jungwon’s smirk falters for just a second—like he didn’t expect you to actually take him up on it. “Prove it.”
You start walking toward the hallway that leads to Jake’s bedroom, and after a beat, you hear Jungwon follow.
“Are they really—” someone starts.
“Yup,” Reina says, and she sounds absolutely delighted.
Jake’s bedroom is dark and quiet, muffled music and laughter filtering through the door. You flip on the lamp, suddenly aware that you’re alone with Jungwon and you just agreed to let him— “You don’t have to,” he says, and when you turn, he’s standing close but not crowding you. “If you were just calling my bluff.”
“Were you bluffing?”
“No.”
The word sends heat straight through you. You step closer, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “Then stop talking and do it.”
For a second he just looks at you, and then his hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You sure?”
“Jungwon.” You grab his shirt. “I swear to god, if you’re going to do it, then—” He kisses you. Not rough, not tentative—just sure. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and honestly? The confidence is already working for you. His lips are soft and he tastes like beer and something minty, and when his tongue slides against yours, you make a sound you’ll probably be embarrassed about later.
But he groans in response, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall onto it and he follows, hovering over you, one hand planted by your head while the other slides under your shirt. “This okay?” he murmurs against your mouth.
“Yes, fuck—yes.”
His hand skims up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your bralette, and you arch into the touch. He’s taking his time, kissing along your jaw, down your neck, finding that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp. “Sensitive here?” he asks, sounding pleased.
“Shut up.”
He laughs, low and warm against your skin. “You’re mouthy.”
“You have no idea.”
“Guess I’ll find out.” He sits back and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, and—okay. Okay. You knew he was lean but you didn’t know he looked like that without clothes. He catches you staring and smirks. “See something you like?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.” But his hands are gentle as he reaches for the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to nod before pulling it off. Your bralette follows, and then his mouth is on your breast and coherent thought gets significantly harder.
He’s good at this. The guy knows what he’s doing with his tongue, circling your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. His hand works your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching until you’re panting. “Jungwon—”
“Hmm?” He switches sides, giving your other breast the same attention, and you thread your fingers through his hair and tug.
“Stop teasing.”
“I’m not teasing.” He looks up at you through his lashes, and the sight of him between your breasts does something to you. “I’m being thorough.” His hand trails down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans. “Can I?”
“Yes, god, yes.”
He unbuttons them slowly—too slowly—and slides them down your legs along with your underwear. You’re completely naked and he’s still half-dressed, and something about that makes you feel exposed in a way that’s not entirely uncomfortable. Jungwon sits back on his heels, just looking at you, and you fight the urge to cover yourself. “Stop staring.”
“Can’t help it.” His hands slide up your thighs, pushing them apart. “You’re so fucking pretty.” The praise makes your face heat. You’re not used to guys taking their time like this, looking at you like you’re something worth savoring.
“Let me know if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, and then his mouth is on your inner thigh, kissing and biting a path upward until his breath is ghosting over where you need him most.
The first touch of his tongue is light—experimental. He licks a broad stripe up your center and you gasp, hips jerking. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he does it again, more pressure this time. “Fuck,” you breathe.
He hums against you, and the vibration makes your toes curl. Then he finds your clit with the tip of his tongue, circling it slowly, and—oh. Oh.
You’ve had guys go down on you before. Most of them acted like it was a chore, something to rush through to get to the “main event.” But Jungwon is eating you out like he has all the time in the world, like he’s enjoying it as much as you are.
He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, reading your body’s reactions—when you moan, when your hips buck, when your thighs start to tremble. And when he slides one finger inside you, crooking it just right while his tongue works your clit, you actually see stars. “Holy shit,” you gasp, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping the sheets.
He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the combination of his mouth and his fingers pumping into you is almost too much. You’re making sounds you’ve never made before, completely uninhibited, and he’s groaning against you like getting you off is getting him off. “Jungwon, I’m—fuck, I’m close—”
He doesn’t change what he’s doing. Doesn’t speed up or switch techniques like so many guys do right when you’re on the edge. He just keeps that same perfect rhythm, fingers curling inside you, tongue circling your clit, and you come harder than you ever have with another person. Your whole body goes taut, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crash over you. He works you through it, only lightening his touch when you start to squirm from sensitivity.
When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find him watching you with the most self-satisfied expression you’ve ever seen. “You were saying?” he asks, and you want to be annoyed but you’re too blissed out to care.
“Okay,” you admit. “Point proven.”
He crawls up your body, kissing you deep, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. His erection presses against your thigh through his sweatpants, and you reach down to palm him through the fabric. He groans into your mouth. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” You push at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back, and then you’re straddling him, grinding down against his clothed cock. “Unless you’re done proving yourself?”
His hands grip your hips, helping you rock against him. “Fuck no.” You lean down to kiss him while your hand slips into his sweatpants, wrapping around him. He’s hard and thick, and when you stroke him, his hips jerk up into your hand.
“Condom?” you murmur against his lips.
“Wallet. Back pocket.” You climb off long enough for him to shove his sweatpants and boxers down, and—yeah, okay, the confidence makes sense. You grab his wallet from his discarded pants, finding the condom and tearing it open while he strokes himself lazily, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Let me,” he says, taking it from you and rolling it on. Then his hands are on your waist, lifting you, positioning you over him. “Go slow. Take what you need.”
You sink down onto him inch by inch, and the stretch is perfect. He fills you completely, and when you’re fully seated, you both groan. “Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, hands flexing on your hips.
You start to move, rolling your hips, finding a rhythm. His hands guide you but he lets you control the pace, watching where you’re joined with an expression that’s almost reverent. “Touch yourself,” he says, voice rough. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
The words send a fresh wave of arousal through you. You brace one hand on his chest and bring the other between your legs, fingers finding your clit. You’re still sensitive from before, and it doesn’t take much—just a few circles while he thrusts up into you, hitting that perfect spot inside. “That’s it,” he encourages, sitting up to mouth at your neck, one hand gripping your ass to help you move. “You’re so fucking hot like this. Taking what you need.”
You’re close again, impossibly, and when he bites down on your shoulder at the same moment his cock hits deep, you shatter. Your orgasm rips through you and you feel him follow seconds later, groaning your name against your skin as he pulses inside you. You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. His hand comes up to stroke your back, gentle and grounding.
“So,” he says after a minute, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Still think I’m no different?”
You lift your head to glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. “Okay, fine. You were right.”
“Say it louder, I don’t think they heard you outside.”
You smack his chest and he laughs, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm. The gesture is surprisingly tender for what just happened. “Holy shit,” you say, the reality of the situation finally catching up. “We just fucked in Jake’s bed.”
“Yeah, we should probably…” He gestures vaguely. You climb off him carefully, and he deals with the condom while you hunt for your clothes in the dim light. There’s something surreal about getting dressed in comfortable silence after what just happened. Like you’ve done this before, even though you haven’t.
When you’re both decent, you catch sight of yourself in Jake’s mirror. Your hair is a mess, lips swollen, and there’s a hickey blooming on your collarbone. “Shit.” You touch it gingerly.
Jungwon comes up behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Sorry. Got carried away.”
“It’s fine.” You try to fluff your hair into something less “I just got thoroughly fucked.” “Everyone’s gonna know, though.”
“They already know.” He grins. “We weren’t exactly quiet.”
Your face heats. He’s right—you definitely weren’t quiet. “Oh god.”
“Hey.” He turns you around, hands on your shoulders. “You good? This isn’t… weird?”
You consider it. By all accounts, it should be weird. You just fucked one of your friends on a drunken bet. But looking at him now, his hair messy from your hands, expression open and a little concerned, it doesn’t feel weird. “I’m good,” you say honestly. “You?”
“I’m great.” His smile is genuine. “That was—”
“Really good,” you finish.
“Yeah.” You stand there for a beat too long, and then you clear your throat. “We should probably get back before they send a search party.”
“Right. Yeah.” He opens the door and you walk out first, down the hallway back to the living room where the entire group is absolutely not pretending they weren’t waiting for you. The silence when you walk in is deafening.
“So,” Reina says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Scale of one to ten?”
“Reina!” Maya looks mortified.
You just laugh and drop back onto the couch. “Solid eleven.” The room erupts. Jay throws a pillow at you. Sunghoon looks like he wishes he could disappear. Heeseung and Jake are cackling. Liv just gives you a knowing look and passes you a fresh drink. Jungwon sits down across from you, and when your eyes meet, he smirks. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back.
Yeah, you think, taking a long drink. This is either the best or worst decision you’ve ever made.
It’s after three AM when the party finally winds down. People are crashed on various surfaces—Niki and Sunoo sharing the big armchair, Heeseung sprawled on the floor, Jay and Sunghoon having claimed the other couch. Maya and Jake disappeared into his room about an hour ago. You’re pretty sober now, sitting on the balcony with Liv and Reina, sharing a cigarette and watching the campus lights below.
“So,” Liv says, passing you the cigarette. “You gonna talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“You fucked Jungwon.” Reina isn’t one for subtlety. You nod.
“And?”
You take a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling slowly. “And it was really good.”
“We gathered that from the sounds,” Reina says, grinning when you flip her off. “But like… are you gonna do it again?”
“I don’t know. Probably not?” Even as you say it, you’re not sure you believe it. “It was just a drunk thing.”
“A drunk thing where you came so hard we heard you through the door,” Liv points out. Your face heats. “Oh my god.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugs. “That kind of chemistry doesn’t come around often. And you’re both single. Why not?”
“Because he’s part of the group,” you say, voicing the concern that’s been nagging at you since you got dressed. “If things got messy…”
“Things don’t have to get messy,” Reina says. “People have casual sex all the time.”
“Not with their friends.”
“Sure they do.” Liv stubs out the cigarette. “Look, I’m not saying marry the guy. But if you both enjoyed it and you’re both adults… I don’t see the problem.”
You don’t have a good argument for that, mainly because you’re still thinking about his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. “I’ll think about it,” you say finally.
Your phone buzzes at 4:17 AM. You’re in your own bed now, having gotten an Uber home with Liv and Reina. You should be asleep but you keep replaying the night in your head.
jungwon: you up? i can’t sleep
You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back. you: same
jungwon: kept thinking about earlier
Your heart rate picks up. you: yeah?
jungwon: that okay?
you: yeah. me too
There’s a long pause where you watch the three dots appear and disappear several times.
jungwon: look, if tonight was just a one time thing, that’s cool. but if you ever wanted to do it again with no strings. you said it yourself. good sex is hard to find
You bite your lip, thumb hovering over the keyboard. This is probably a bad idea. You should say thanks but no thanks, keep things simple.
you: no strings?
jungwon: none. just two friends helping each other out
you: friends who fuck
jungwon: exactly
you: you’re sure this won’t make things weird with the group?
jungwon: only if we let it
You think about what Liv said. About chemistry and being adults and not overthinking things. you: okay
jungwon: yeah?
you: yeah. but we need rules
jungwon: rules work
you: we can talk about it tomorrow. when we’re sober
jungwon: sounds good. for the record though
you: ?
jungwon: you taste amazing
Your face goes hot and you let out an embarrassing sound even though you’re alone in your room. you: go to SLEEP jungwon
jungwon: sweet dreams 😏
You toss your phone aside and press your face into your pillow, smiling like an idiot. This is definitely a bad idea. But god, you kind of can’t wait to make it worse.
You meet Jungwon at a coffee shop off campus, neutral territory where you’re less likely to run into anyone from the group. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and you both have a gap between classes. He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two iced americanos, and when he sees you, he slides one across the table. “Wasn’t sure how you take it,” he says.
“Black’s fine.” You sit down across from him, suddenly feeling weirdly nervous. Which is stupid—you’ve literally had his dick inside you. A coffee meetup shouldn’t be the awkward part. But he seems to sense it because he grins. “This is weird, right?”
“So weird,” you admit, and you both laugh, and just like that the tension breaks.
“Okay.” He leans back, fingers drumming on his cup. “Rules.”
“Rules,” you agree. “First one: no one can know.”
“Agreed. Jay and Sunghoon would lose their minds.”
“Jay would literally try to fight you.” You take a sip of coffee. “And Maya would never let me hear the end of it.”
“So we’re careful. No disappearing together at group things unless we have a good excuse.”
“And we stagger leaving,” you add. “Like, if you leave a party, I wait at least twenty minutes before I go.”
“Smart.” He nods. “What about texting?”
“Keep it normal in the group chat. If we’re gonna hook up, we text privately.”
“Works for me.” He studies you for a moment. “What about other people?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Other people?”
“Like, are we exclusive? Or can we still hook up with other people?”
It’s a fair question, even if something in your chest tightens at the thought of him with someone else. Which is stupid. This is purely physical. “We can do whatever we want,” you say carefully. “But if either of us starts hooking up with someone else regularly, we should probably end this. Easier that way.”
“Makes sense.” He seems to hesitate. “And if one of us catches feelings?”
“Then we stop immediately.” You meet his eyes. “That’s the most important rule. This only works if we’re both on the same page.”
“Agreed.” He holds out his hand across the table. “So we have a deal?”
You shake his hand, trying to ignore how warm his palm is against yours. “Deal.”
“Cool.” He doesn’t let go right away. “So… your place or mine?”
Heat pools in your stomach. “Eager?”
“You’re the one who wore that skirt.”
You glance down at your denim mini skirt, then back up at him with a smirk. “I have class in two hours.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
His apartment is closer, a small one-bedroom he shares with Heeseung who’s conveniently at class until five. The second the door closes behind you, his mouth is on yours, backing you against the wall. “Been thinking about this since Saturday,” he murmurs against your lips, hands sliding under your skirt to grip your ass.
“It’s only been three days.”
“Three days too long.” He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his room. It’s surprisingly clean—bed made, clothes put away, posters of various bands on the walls.
He lays you on the bed and steps back, pulling his shirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch, admiring the view. “Like what you see?” he asks, echoing your words from the other night.
“You already know I do.”
He grins and climbs over you, settling between your legs. “Want to try something?”
“Like what?”
“You’ll see.” His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist. “Trust me?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, and you mean it.
He hooks his fingers in your underwear and drags them down slowly, and you’re already wet just from the anticipation. He spreads your legs wider, thumb brushing over your clit almost teasingly before he slides two fingers inside you. “Fuck,” you gasp, hips rolling against his hand.
“Still sensitive from last time?” He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them just right.
“A little.”
He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moan as he works you open. When he adds a third finger, the stretch makes your toes curl. He finger-fucks you until you’re panting, right on the edge, and then he stops. You make a sound of protest and he laughs. “Patience.” He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a small vibrator.
Your eyes widen. “You just have that?”
“Ex left it here.” He turns it on, and the low buzz fills the room. “Never thought I’d use it, but…”
He presses it against your clit and you nearly jackknife off the bed. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, especially when he slides his fingers back inside you at the same time. “Oh fuck—Jungwon—”
“That good?” He sounds smug, but you can’t even be annoyed because he’s right. It’s so good you can barely breathe.
He works you with the vibrator and his fingers, watching your face intently, adjusting based on your reactions. When you’re close, thighs shaking, he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth through your shirt.
You come with a cry, back arching, and he doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his hand away from oversensitivity. “Holy shit,” you pant.
He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Good?”
“You know it was.”
“Want to keep going?” Instead of answering, you sit up and push him onto his back, straddling him. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and you grind down against him, making him groan.
“Your turn,” you say, working his belt open. You take your time getting him naked, kissing down his chest and stomach, enjoying the way his muscles jump under your lips. When you finally get his jeans and boxers off, his cock springs free, already leaking. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, and he hisses through his teeth.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you cut him off, and then you take him in your mouth.
“Fuck,” he groans, hand flying to your hair. Not pushing, just holding on as you work him with your tongue. You take him as deep as you can, hollowing your cheeks, and the sounds he makes are incredibly satisfying.
You pull off with a wet pop. “You gonna tell me what you like?”
“That,” he says breathlessly. “I like that.”
“Be specific.” You lick up the underside of his cock. “I want to make you feel good.”
“Fuck—okay, um, tighter grip, and—yeah, just like that.” His hips buck when you comply. “And twist your hand a little when you—oh god—“
You find a rhythm that has him falling apart, alternating between your mouth and your hand, and when you cup his balls gently, he swears. “I’m close,” he warns, tugging your hair. “If you don’t want to—”
You double down, taking him deeper, and he comes with a groan, spilling down your throat. You swallow and work him through it until he’s shaking. When you pull off and wipe your mouth, he’s staring at you like you’re some kind of miracle. “You’re really good at that,” he says, voice wrecked.
“Right back at you.” You climb up to lie beside him. “This is gonna be fun.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling you closer. “It really is.”
The first group hangout after your arrangement starts is at someone’s house party on Thursday. One of the senior volleyball guys is throwing it, and the place is packed by the time you arrive with Liv and Reina.
You spot the guys in the backyard—Jay and Sunghoon playing beer pong against Jake and Heeseung, Sunoo and Niki smoking by the fence. And Jungwon leaning against the porch railing, red cup in hand, talking to some girl you vaguely recognize from Psychology. Something ugly twists in your chest before you can stop it.
“Don’t,” Liv says quietly.
“Don’t what?”
“You know what.” She steers you toward the drinks table. “Remember the rules.” Right. The rules. You can both do whatever you want. It doesn’t matter that the girl is touching his arm, laughing at something he said. It doesn’t matter at all. You pour yourself a strong drink and down half of it.
“There you are!” Maya appears, already tipsy, Jake trailing behind her. “We’ve been here for like an hour, where were you?”
“Reina took forever getting ready,” Liv says, throwing her under the bus.
“Excuse me, this face is a work of art.” Reina gestures at her makeup. “It takes time.”
You tune them out, eyes drifting back to Jungwon. The girl is still there, but now he’s looking at you. When your eyes meet, he says something to her and starts walking over. “Hey,” he says when he reaches your group, giving everyone a casual nod before his eyes land on you. “You just get here?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.” His cup is empty. “I’m gonna grab another drink. Want to come?”
It’s a normal question. The kind of thing he might have asked before. But Maya and Reina exchange a look, and you want to die. “Sure.”
You follow him to the drinks table, hyperaware of the space between you. “That girl,” you say as he pours vodka into his cup. “From Psychology?”
“Mina. Yeah.” He adds red bull, not looking at you. “She was asking about the midterm.”
“Right.”
“You jealous?” He’s smirking now, voice low enough that only you can hear.
“No.”
“Liar.” He leans in slightly. “You look really good, by the way.”
You’re wearing low-waisted jeans and a cropped black tank top, simple but effective. “Thanks.”
“Having fun yet?”
“I just got here.”
“Want to have more fun later?” The suggestion in his voice is clear.
“Maybe.” You take a sip of your drink. “If you play your cards right.”
“Challenge accepted.”
Two hours later, you’re drunk and high and dancing in the crowded living room with Reina and some people from your Communications class. The music is too loud, bodies pressed too close, and you’re sweaty and happy and not thinking about anything.
Until hands settle on your waist from behind. You know it’s Jungwon before you even turn around—you’re getting familiar with his touch. He’s behind you, moving with you, and it takes everything in you not to lean back against him. “Thought you were playing beer pong,” you say over your shoulder.
“Got boring.” His breath is warm against your ear. “This is better.”
You shouldn’t be doing this. People will notice. But the room is dark and crowded, and everyone’s drunk, and his body feels so good against yours. You let yourself grind back against him, just a little, and his grip on your waist tightens.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs.
“You started it.”
One of his hands slides lower, fingers playing with the belt loop of your jeans, not quite dipping under but close enough to make you ache. “Your place or mine?” he asks.
“Mine. Liv’s staying at her girlfriend’s.”
“Meet you there in twenty?”
“Make it fifteen.”
He shows up in twelve minutes. The second you open your apartment door, he’s on you, walking you backward until you hit the wall. His mouth is hot and demanding, tasting like weed and whatever he was drinking, and you can’t get enough. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he groans, hands everywhere at once.
“You were talking to that girl for like twenty minutes.”
He pulls back to look at you, grinning. “You were jealous.”
“Shut up.”
“You were.” He kisses down your neck. “That’s cute.”
“I wasn’t—” You lose your train of thought when he bites down on your pulse point.
“Whatever you say.” His hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up. “Can I take this off?”
“Yes.”
Your shirt and bra hit the floor, and then his mouth is on your breast and you stop caring about anything else. He takes his time, sucking marks into your skin that you’ll have to cover tomorrow, and when he drops to his knees in front of you, your brain short-circuits. “These too?” He’s already unbuttoning your jeans.
“Please.” He gets you naked efficiently, and then he’s lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, face level with your pussy.
“Hold on to something,” he advises, and then his tongue is on you. You grip his hair with one hand, the other braced against the wall, as he devours you. He’s not gentle about it—licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue until your leg is shaking and you’re barely staying upright.
“Jungwon—fuck—I’m gonna fall—”
He stands up, and before you can process it, he’s lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to your bedroom, laying you out on the bed.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
He strips quickly and you admire the view—he’s fully hard, cock jutting up against his stomach. When he settles between your legs again, you expect him to reach for a condom, but instead he slides down your body. “Want to try something else,” he says, kissing your inner thigh.
“Yeah?”
“Can I go down on you while you suck me?”
Heat floods through you. “Like 69?”
“Yeah.” He looks almost nervous. “If you want.”
“Okay.” He repositions so he’s on his back, and you straddle his face, leaning forward to take his cock in your hand. The angle is different like this, and when his tongue finds your clit, you gasp.
“Fuck—sorry—” You’re distracted, and you force yourself to focus, wrapping your lips around him.
It’s intense, trying to concentrate on getting him off while he’s making you feel so good. Every time you take him deeper, he groans against your pussy, and the vibration makes you moan around him.
You’re dripping on his face, riding his tongue, and his hands grip your ass, pulling you down harder. The obscene wet sounds fill the room, and you’re so turned on you can barely see straight.
When he slides two fingers inside you while sucking your clit, you come with his cock still in your mouth, and he follows seconds later, groaning your name. You collapse beside him, both of you breathing hard. “Holy shit,” you say eventually.
“Good?”
“So good.” You turn your head to look at him. “You’re full of ideas.”
“I like making you come.” He says it so casually, like it’s a fact. “Want to see how many times I can do it.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“If you want it to be.”
You glance at the clock—it’s barely midnight. “How many orgasms are we talking?”
“How many can you handle?”
“More than you’d think.”
His smile is wicked. “Let’s find out.”
Forty minutes and two more orgasms later (one from his fingers, one from actually fucking), you’re a boneless mess in your sheets and Jungwon looks unreasonably smug. “I think I won,” he says.
“You didn’t—I made you come too—”
“Twice. You came four times.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition.” But he’s smiling, tracing lazy patterns on your hip. “You okay? Not too much?”
“I’m great.” And you are—exhausted and satisfied and floating. “You’re really good at this.”
“So are you.” He kisses your shoulder. “We work well together.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “We do.” Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it and find a string of messages in the group chat. maya: where did everyone gooooo
reina: i saw y/n leave and jungwon left like right after 👀
jay: oh god not this again
sunghoon: can we NOT
heeseung: let them live lmao
reina: i’m just SAYING
liv: leave them alone
You show Jungwon the messages and he laughs. “We’re not subtle,” he says.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Does it bother you?”
You think about it. The teasing is annoying, but it’s not like you’re ashamed. “No. Does it bother you?”
“Nah.” He stretches, all long limbs and satisfied energy. “Let them speculate. As long as we don’t confirm anything, we’re good.”
“Agreed.” You type out a response. you: i left because i was tired. stop being weird
reina: SURE
you: i hate you
reina: love you too babe 😘
You toss your phone aside and curl into Jungwon’s side. He wraps an arm around you automatically, and it feels dangerously comfortable. “Should you go?” you ask. “It’s late.”
“Do you want me to?”
You should say yes. Letting him stay feels too intimate, too couple-y. But you’re tired and warm and he’s already half-asleep. “You can stay if you want.”
“Okay.” He’s already drifting off.
You lie awake a little longer, listening to his breathing even out, trying not to think about how right this feels. It’s just sex, you remind yourself. Really good sex with someone you trust. That’s all. You almost believe it.
Friday afternoon you have Intro to Film Studies, and you’re running late because you definitely overslept after Jungwon didn’t leave until 6 AM. You slide into your usual seat next to this guy Marcus from your dorm building just as the professor starts. “Rough night?” Marcus whispers, grinning.
“Something like that.” You’re trying to focus on the lecture about French New Wave cinema when your phone buzzes.
jungwon: you left your underwear in my car
You freeze. you: WHAT
jungwon: black lace ones. very nice btw
you: how did they end up in your car???
jungwon: you really don’t remember?
And then you do remember. Wednesday night, he picked you up after your late class, you made out in his car in the parking garage, things escalated, and apparently you forgot to put all your clothes back on.
you: oh my god
jungwon: don’t worry, heeseung didn’t see them
jungwon: i hid them before he got in
you: this is a nightmare
jungwon: or it’s funny
you: WHERE ARE THEY NOW
jungwon: my pocket
you: JUNGWON
jungwon: what? they’re safe
you: you’re insane
jungwon: you like it
You bite your lip to keep from smiling, hyperaware that you’re in the middle of class. you: i’m in class
jungwon: so am i. keeps things interesting
you: i hate you
jungwon: you definitely don’t. not after the sounds you were making wednesday night
Your face goes hot. you: STOP
jungwon: come over after class?
you: can’t. studying with maya
jungwon: tomorrow?
you: there’s that party at the phi delt house
jungwon: sunday then
you: sunday works
jungwon: it’s a date
you: it’s not a date
jungwon: right. forgot. just two friends fucking
you: exactly
jungwon: can’t wait 😉
You shove your phone in your bag and try to concentrate on the lecture, but it’s useless. You’re too busy thinking about Sunday, about his hands and his mouth and the way he says your name when he comes. This is getting dangerous. But you can’t seem to stop.
The party Saturday night is massive—Phi Delt always goes hard. You show up with your girls, already tipsy from pregaming, and immediately lose track of everyone in the crowd. You’re in the kitchen mixing a drink when someone bumps into you, sloshing vodka on your hand. “Shit, sorry—oh hey!”
You turn to find Mina, the girl from Jungwon’s Psych class. Up close she’s even prettier—long dark hair, perfect skin, bright smile. “No worries,” you say, wiping your hand on your jeans.
“You’re friends with Jungwon, right?” she asks. “I’ve seen you guys together.”
Something in your chest tightens. “Yeah, we’re friends.”
“He’s so sweet.” She’s making herself a drink, completely oblivious to your internal crisis. “We’ve been studying together for Psych. He’s really smart.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Are you guys like… together? I don’t want to step on any toes.”
The question catches you off guard. “Oh—no, we’re just friends.”
“Cool!” She seems genuinely relieved. “I was thinking about asking him out. Do you think he’d be into that?”
You should say yes. Or say you don’t know. You should definitely not feel like you want to throw your drink in her face, because you have no claim on Jungwon. That’s the whole point. “You should ask him,” you say, forcing a smile.
“I think I will!” She bounces off, and you’re left standing there feeling weird and hollow.
You down your drink and make another one, stronger this time. “Easy there,” a voice says, and you turn to find Jay watching you with concern. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You’re drinking like you’re not fine.”
“I’m just trying to have fun, Jay. Is that allowed?”
He holds up his hands. “Okay, okay. Just checking.”
You feel bad immediately. “Sorry. I’m just… it’s been a week.”
“Want to talk about it?” You shake your head no. “Does this have anything to do with Jungwon?”
Your head snaps up. “Why would it?”
“Come on.” Jay gives you a look. “I’m not stupid. Neither is Sunghoon. We know something’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Right. And you guys just happened to leave that party within five minutes of each other for completely unrelated reasons.”You don’t say anything. “Look,” Jay says, his voice gentler. “I don’t care what you guys do. You’re both adults. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. It’s just casual.”
“Is it?”
Before you can answer, Jungwon appears in the doorway, Mina trailing behind him. When he sees you, something flickers across his face. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
Mina touches his arm. “I’m gonna go find my friends, but text me about that study session?”
“Sure,” he says, and she leaves.
You feel Jay watching both of you. “I’m gonna go find Sunghoon,” he says pointedly. “You two… talk. Or whatever.”
When he’s gone, Jungwon moves closer. “You okay?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem tense.”
“I’m not tense.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t look convinced. “You want to get out of here?”
“I just got here.”
“So?”
“So people will notice.”
“Let them notice.” His hand brushes yours, brief but deliberate. “Come on. Please?”
You shouldn’t. You should stay at the party, hang out with your friends, stop making everything about him. “Fine,” you say. “But you leave first.”
You end up at his place again. Heeseung is gone for the weekend, so you have the apartment to yourselves. The second the door closes, he’s kissing you, and it feels different somehow. More desperate. Like he’s trying to prove something. “What was that about?” you ask when you break for air.
“What was what about?”
“With Mina.”
“Nothing. She wants to study together.”
“She wants to do more than study.”
He pulls back slightly, looking at you. “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You are.” He sounds pleased.
“I’m not—we have rules, Jungwon. You can do whatever you want.”
“So can you.” His jaw tightens. “Didn’t stop me from wanting to punch Marcus when I saw him sitting next to you in the library yesterday.”
“You saw that?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re just study partners.”
“I know.” He kisses you again, softer this time. “This is stupid, right? We shouldn’t be jealous.”
“Right.”
“Because it’s just casual.”
“Exactly.” You’re both quiet for a moment.
“For the record,” he says finally, “I’m not interested in Mina. Or anyone else.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “This—what we have—it works. I don’t want to fuck it up by bringing other people into it.”
Relief washes over you. “Yeah. Same.”
“So… exclusive, then? Just while this is happening?”
“Just while this is happening,” you agree.
“Good.” He kisses you again, and this time when you end up in his bed, it feels different. Slower. More intentional.
He takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin he exposes. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you. “Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You.”
“Be specific.”
“I want—” You’re breathless already and he hasn’t even touched you yet. “I want your mouth.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
“Say it.” His breath ghosts over your inner thigh.
“My pussy,” you say, face heating. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”
“Good girl.” The praise makes you clench around nothing, and then his tongue is on you and you forget how to think. He’s devastatingly thorough, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, sliding his fingers inside you when you start to squirm. You’re panting, desperate, right on the edge when he stops.
“Jungwon—”
“Want you to come on my cock,” he says, reaching for a condom. He rolls it on and slides into you in one smooth thrust, and you both groan. The angle is perfect, hitting deep, and when he starts to move, you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes against your neck. “So wet for me.”
“Don’t stop—”
“Not stopping.” His hand slides between your bodies to rub your clit. “Want to feel you come.”
It doesn’t take long. The combination of his cock and his fingers pushes you over the edge, and you come with a cry, clenching around him. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he pulses inside you. You stay like that for a while, catching your breath, his weight comfortable on top of you.
“You’re staying tonight, right?” he asks eventually.
“Yeah,” you say, and you don’t even pretend to think about it. “I’m staying.”
He rolls off you to deal with the condom, and when he comes back, he pulls you against his chest. You let yourself relax into him, listening to his heartbeat slow. This is definitely more than just casual. But neither of you says it out loud.
Three months in, and you’ve gotten good at this. Really good. You and Jungwon have the routine down to an art form. You don’t leave parties together anymore—one of you leaves, the other waits at least half an hour. You vary whose place you go to. You keep your hands to yourselves during group hangouts, no lingering touches or loaded looks. In the group chat, you bicker and joke like you always have.
To everyone else, the initial excitement has worn off. Whatever was happening between you two seems to have fizzled out. Even Reina has stopped making comments. Which is perfect, because it means no one notices that you’re fucking almost every other day.
It’s a Wednesday afternoon in mid-October, and you’re sprawled across various surfaces in Jay and Sunghoon’s apartment. Maya and Jake are tangled together on the loveseat, Liv is rolling a joint at the coffee table, Reina is painting her nails on the floor. The guys are scattered around—Jay and Sunghoon playing FIFA, Heeseung scrolling his phone, Sunoo showing Niki something on his laptop. And Jungwon is sitting across from you in the armchair, looking completely relaxed, like he wasn’t buried inside you this morning before your 9 AM class.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” Reina announces. “Can we order food?”
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Sunghoon says, not looking away from the TV.
“Your point?”
Everyone starts debating what to order, and you catch Jungwon’s eye across the room. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you know exactly what he’s thinking about. This morning, you pinned against his shower wall, water streaming over both of you, his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet even though Heeseung wasn’t home. You bite your lip and look away before you start smiling like an idiot.
“Earth to Y/N,” Niki says, waving a hand in front of your face. “You alive in there?”
“What? Yeah, sorry.”
“I was asking about that guy you were telling me about.” He grins. “The one from a few weeks ago?”
Your brain stalls. “What guy?”
“You know, when we went to get coffee last week. You were telling me about hooking up with someone and how he was like, insanely good?”
Oh shit. You do vaguely remember that conversation—you and Niki had gotten coffee between classes, and he’d been asking about your dating life, and you’d maybe been too honest about how good the sex had been lately. You’d kept it vague, hadn’t mentioned names, but still. The room has gotten quiet, everyone paying attention now. “Oh,” you say, very aware of Jungwon’s eyes on you. “That was… nothing. Just some guy.”
“Some guy who’s apparently the best fuck you’ve ever had,” Niki says, looking way too entertained. “Those were your exact words.”
“Niki—”
“What? I’m just saying, that’s high praise coming from you.”
Reina sits up straighter. “Wait, hold on. You’ve been holding out on us? Who is this mystery man?”
“It’s not a big deal—”
“Best fuck of your life sounds like a big deal,” Liv points out, though she’s trying not to smile. She’s the only one who knows the truth, and she’s clearly enjoying watching you squirm.
“Are you still seeing him?” Maya asks.
“It’s casual.”
“Is it that guy from your Econ class?” Reina guesses. “The tall one with the man bun?”
“No.”
“The bartender from that club we went to?”
“No.”
“Give us something,” Sunoo pleads dramatically. “We need details.”
You absolutely cannot look at Jungwon. “There are no details. It’s just… casual hookups. Nothing serious.”
“But the sex is good?” Reina presses.
“Yeah,” you admit, because denying it now would be weird. “The sex is really good.”
“How good are we talking?” Heeseung asks. “Like, good good, or like, mind-blowing life-changing good?”
Your face is burning. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
“Oh my god, it’s mind-blowing life-changing good,” Reina says gleefully. “Look at her face!”
“I hate all of you.”
“What makes it so good?” Maya asks, genuinely curious. “Like, what’s he doing that’s so different?”
“Maya!”
“What? I’m trying to learn here!”
You risk a glance at Jungwon. He’s very still, expression carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused or something else entirely. “He just—” You struggle for words that won’t give anything away. “He pays attention, I guess? Like, he actually cares about getting me off. And he’s… confident. Knows what he’s doing.”
“Size?” Reina asks bluntly.
“Oh my god, Reina!”
“What? It’s a relevant question!”
“I’m not answering that.”
“So it’s good,” she concludes. “Noted.”
“Can we please order food now?” you beg.
Jay takes pity on you. “Yeah, let’s vote. Pizza or Thai?”
The conversation mercifully moves on, and you finally let yourself breathe. But when you glance at Jungwon again, he’s looking at his phone, jaw tight. Shit.
The group ends up ordering pizza, and by the time it arrives, you’ve almost forgotten about the awkward conversation. Almost. You’re halfway through your second slice when your phone buzzes: jungwon: can you come help me with something in the car?
You frown at the message. You all walked here, no one drove. you: what?
jungwon: just come outside for a sec
You make an excuse about needing air and head downstairs. Jungwon is waiting by the building entrance, hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Really?” He looks at you. “Best fuck of your life?”
Oh. “You’re mad about that?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sound mad.”
“I’m not—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t love the idea of you telling Niki about us.”
“I didn’t tell him about us. I kept it vague. He doesn’t know it’s you.”
“But you were talking about me. About our sex life.”
“Is that not allowed?” You cross your arms. “We’re not together, Jungwon. I can talk to my friends.”
“I know that.” His jaw ticks. “I just—forget it.”
“No, what? Say what you’re thinking.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Did you mean it? What you said up there?”
“About what?”
“About it being the best you’ve had.”
Your stomach flips. “I… yeah. I meant it.”
His expression softens slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You step closer. “Why, did you doubt it?”
“No, I just…” He trails off, looking almost embarrassed. “I liked hearing it, I guess. Even if I wasn’t supposed to be the one hearing it.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You like it,” he says, echoing your texts from months ago.
“Maybe.” You glance back at the building. “We should go back up before someone notices.”
“Wait.” He catches your wrist. “Come over tonight?”
“Jungwon, we just saw each other this morning.”
“So?”
“So we’re supposed to be keeping this low-key.”
“I am keeping it low-key. No one suspects anything anymore.” He tugs you closer. “Please? I want to try something.”
“You always want to try something.”
“And you always like it.” He’s smirking now. “Come on. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
You shouldn’t. You’re supposed to be at the library studying for your midterm tomorrow. But the way he’s looking at you makes your resolve crumble. “Fine. But I can’t stay over. I really do need to study.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
You show up at his apartment at eleven, after spending three hours actually studying with Maya. Heeseung is home this time, playing video games in the living room. “Hey,” he says when you walk in. “Jungwon’s in his room.”
“Cool, thanks.” You’ve been here enough times now that it’s not weird anymore. Heeseung barely looks up when you head down the hall and knock on Jungwon’s door.
“Come in.” He’s at his desk, laptop open, but he closes it when he sees you. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You drop your bag by the door. “What did you want to try?”
“Impatient.”
“I have a midterm at 8 AM. Get to the point.”
He stands and crosses to you, and there’s something different about his energy tonight. More intense. “I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”
“I always tell you what you want.”
“No,” he says. “You tell me when I ask. I want you to take control. Tell me exactly what to do.”
Heat pools in your stomach. “You want me to… boss you around?”
“Yeah.” His hands settle on your hips. “Think you can do that?”
“I—” You’re flustered now. You’re used to him being in charge, confident and directing everything. The idea of flipping that dynamic is…
“You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “If you’re not into it—”
“I’m into it,” you cut him off. “Just… give me a second.” He waits, patient, and you take a breath. You can do this. You’ve been sleeping together for three months. You know what he likes, what makes him fall apart.
“Okay,” you say, and your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Take off your shirt.” He complies immediately, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.
“Jeans too.” He unbuttons them, pushes them down with his boxers, and kicks them away. He’s already half-hard, and the sight makes your mouth water.
“Lie down on the bed.” He does, and you take a moment to just look at him. He’s gorgeous like this—all lean muscle and smooth skin, cock thickening against his stomach, watching you with dark eyes.
“Touch yourself,” you say. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, and you watch, mesmerized.
“What are you thinking about?” you ask.
“You.” His voice is rough. “Always you.”
“What about me?”
“The way you taste. The sounds you make when you come. How good you feel wrapped around my cock.”
You’re definitely wet now. You start stripping, taking your time, and his eyes track every movement. “You’re so fucking hot,” he breathes.
When you’re naked, you climb onto the bed and straddle his thighs, just out of reach. “Stop touching yourself.” He does, hand falling to his side, and you lean down to kiss him. It’s slow and deep, and when you pull back, his pupils are blown. “I want your mouth,” you say.
“Where?”
“You know where.”
“Say it.” His breath ghosts over your inner thigh.
“My pussy,” you say, face heating. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”
“Good girl.” The praise makes you clench around nothing, and then his tongue is on you and you forget how to think.
You’re straddling his face, thighs bracketing his head. The position makes you feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time. “Eat me out,” you order. “Don’t stop until I come.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His tongue finds your clit immediately, and you gasp, gripping his hair for balance. He’s good at this—you’ve known that since the very first time—but something about being in control makes it even better. “Just like that,” you pant, rolling your hips against his face. “Fuck, your tongue feels so good.”
He groans against you, hands gripping your ass, pulling you down harder. You ride his face shamelessly, chasing your pleasure, and when he slides two fingers inside you, crooking them just right while his tongue works your clit, you actually see stars. “Holy shit,” you gasp, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping the sheets.
He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the combination of his mouth and his fingers pumping into you is almost too much. You’re making sounds you’ve never made before, completely uninhibited, and he’s groaning against you like getting you off is getting him off. “Jungwon, I’m—fuck, I’m close—”
He doesn’t change what he’s doing. Doesn’t speed up or switch techniques like so many guys do right when you’re on the edge. He just keeps that same perfect rhythm, fingers curling inside you, tongue circling your clit, and you come harder than you ever have with another person. Your whole body goes taut, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crash over you. He works you through it, only lightening his touch when you start to squirm from sensitivity.
You’re still trembling when you climb off him, and his face is wet, lips swollen. He looks incredibly pleased with himself. “Good?” he asks.
“So good.” You kiss him, tasting yourself. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
“No?”
“No.” You wrap your hand around his cock, and he hisses. “I want to ride you. But you don’t get to touch me.”
“What?”
“Hands behind your head.” He complies, lacing his fingers behind his head, biceps flexing. You grab a condom from his nightstand and roll it on, and then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you groaning at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel amazing.”
“No touching,” you remind him when his hands twitch.
“This is torture.”
“This is fun.” You start to move, rolling your hips, finding the angle that makes you both moan. “Watch me.”
He does, eyes glued to where you’re joined, then traveling up to your bouncing breasts, your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Tell me what you want,” you say.
“Want to touch you. Want to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress.”
“Not yet.” You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs, changing the angle. “Oh fuck—right there—”
“Yeah?” His voice is strained. “That feel good?”
“So good—” You’re close again, which should be impossible but apparently Jungwon has ruined you for anyone else. “I’m gonna come again—”
“Let me see.” His hands are fisted in his hair, knuckles white from the effort of not touching you. “Want to see you fall apart on my cock.” The words push you over the edge. You come with a cry, clenching around him, and he groans.
“Can I touch you now?” he begs. “Please—”
“Yes—”
His hands are on you immediately, gripping your hips, and he thrusts up into you hard. You’re oversensitive and it’s almost too much, but then he’s sitting up, wrapping his arms around you, and kissing you desperately. “You’re incredible,” he pants against your mouth. “Fucking incredible—”
He comes with his face buried in your neck, and you hold him through it, both of you slick with sweat. When you both catch your breath, he flops back onto the bed, bringing you with him. “That was—” he starts.
“Yeah.”
“We should do that again.”
“Definitely.” You glance at the clock and groan. “Shit, I really need to go study.”
“Stay,” he says. “Just for a little bit.”
“Jungwon—”
“Please? We can study together. I have a midterm tomorrow too.”
You should say no. Should go back to your apartment and study alone like you planned. But his arms are around you and you’re comfortable and warm, and maybe staying for an hour won’t hurt. “Fine,” you say. “One hour.” You stay for three.
A week later, you’re at another party—this one at someone’s house off campus. It’s someone’s birthday, you’re not sure whose, but the music is good and the drinks are strong and you’re having fun. You’re in the kitchen with Liv and some people from your Communications class when you see Jungwon walk in with Heeseung and Jake. He spots you immediately, and you quickly look away. You’ve been good about not staring at each other at parties. Good about acting normal.
But then some girl approaches him—blonde, pretty, wearing a crop top that shows off her abs—and you watch as she touches his arm, leans in close to say something in his ear. Your stomach twists.
“You okay?” Liv asks quietly.
“Fine.”
“You’re glaring.”
“I’m not glaring.”
“You’re definitely glaring.” She follows your gaze. “It’s just some random girl. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know that.”
But when the girl laughs at something Jungwon says, her hand still on his arm, you feel something ugly rise in your chest. This is stupid. You have no claim on him. You’re not together. He can talk to whoever he wants. You turn away and pour yourself another drink.
“Want to go dance?” Liv suggests.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” You spend the next hour on the makeshift dance floor, deliberately not looking for Jungwon, deliberately not caring where he is or who he’s talking to.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
You’re getting another drink when you feel someone behind you. “Having fun?” Jungwon’s voice in your ear makes you shiver.
“Yeah. You?”
“It’s alright.” He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat. “Want to get out of here?”
“Busy tonight.”
“Busy with what?”
“Just… busy.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“You tell me.”
You turn to face him. “That girl you were talking to. She was pretty.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He steps closer. “For the record, she asked for directions. That’s it.”
“I don’t care.”
“You clearly do.” His hand brushes yours. “Come over. Let me prove I only want you.”
You should say no. Should make him work for it. But the look in his eyes makes your resolve crumble. “Fine,” you say. “But you’re leaving first this time.”
By the time you get to his apartment, you’re both frantic. You barely make it inside before you’re tearing at each other’s clothes, kissing desperately. “You drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, walking you backward toward his room. “Watching you dance with those guys—”
“I wasn’t dancing with anyone specifically—”
“Didn’t matter. Wanted to punch all of them anyway.” He gets you naked and on his bed, and then he’s between your legs, and this time there’s an edge to it. Like he’s claiming you, proving something. He eats you out until you’re crying, overstimulated and desperate, and then he flips you over.
“On your knees,” he orders, and you comply, ass in the air. He slides into you from behind and you both groan. The angle is deep, almost too much, and when he starts to move, you can barely breathe.
“You feel so good,” he pants, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “So fucking perfect.”
“Harder—”
He complies, fucking into you relentlessly, and you fist the sheets, moaning into the pillow. “No one else gets to have you like this,” he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. “Just me. Right?”
“Yes—fuck—yes—just you—”
One of his hands slides around to rub your clit and you come with a scream, clenching around him. He follows right after, collapsing on top of you.
When you can both move again, he pulls out carefully and you both clean up in silence. There’s something heavy in the air, something unsaid. “Stay,” he says when you start to get dressed.
“I can’t keep staying over, Jungwon. People will notice—”
“I don’t care anymore.” He catches your wrist. “Stay.”
You look at him—really look at him. His hair is a mess, lips swollen from kissing, and he’s looking at you like you’re something precious. This is getting too real. Too intense. You’re supposed to be keeping things casual, but nothing about the way you feel when you’re with him is casual anymore. “Okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”
He pulls you back into bed, and you curl into his side, listening to his heartbeat slow. “Y/N?” he says after a while.
“Yeah?”
“This thing with us…” He trails off.
Your heart pounds. “What about it?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
But you’re both thinking the same thing. This stopped being casual a long time ago. Neither of you is ready to admit it yet.
November hits campus like a cold slap. The trees are bare, everyone’s walking around in puffer jackets and beanies, and the semester is hitting that point where everyone’s exhausted and stressed and living on coffee and spite.
You’re in Advanced Marketing on a Thursday morning, half-asleep and trying to absorb information about consumer behavior models, when Professor Chen makes an announcement. “Before we start, I want to introduce a new student joining us. This is Daniel Choi—he’s transferring from NYU. Daniel, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”
You glance up and—oh. Daniel is tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair styled back, and an easy smile. He’s wearing a navy sweater that probably costs more than your textbooks, and when he speaks, his voice is warm and confident. “Hey everyone. I’m a junior, majoring in Marketing and Communications. Just moved here from New York, so still figuring out the campus. Looking forward to getting to know you all.”
“Wonderful,” Professor Chen says. “Why don’t you take that seat next to Y/N? Y/N, raise your hand?”
You do, reluctantly, and Daniel makes his way over, sliding into the seat beside you. “Hey,” he says, smile widening. “Thanks for letting me sit here.”
“It’s not really my seat to give, but sure.”
He laughs. “Fair point. I’m Daniel.”
“Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Then Professor Chen launches into the lecture, and you try to focus, but you’re aware of Daniel beside you—the way he takes notes on his laptop, occasionally glancing over at your notebook like he’s comparing, the expensive cologne that’s subtle but noticeable.
When class ends, he turns to you. “Hey, I know this is random, but do you think you could help me out? I’m completely lost on where anything is on this campus.”
“There are maps—”
“I know, but they’re confusing as hell.” He gives you a slightly sheepish look. “And Professor Chen mentioned you’re a great student. I could use someone to show me around, maybe fill me in on what I’ve missed in class so far?”
You should say no. You’re busy. You have your own classes and your friends and your… whatever Jungwon is. But Daniel seems nice, and it’s just showing someone around campus. “Sure,” you find yourself saying. “I have a break after this. I can give you a quick tour.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” His smile is genuinely grateful. “Can I at least buy you coffee?”
You spend the next hour showing Daniel around campus—the library, the student center, the various academic buildings, the good food spots versus the ones to avoid. He’s easy to talk to, asking questions about classes and professors, and he’s funny in a dry, clever way that makes you laugh.
“So NYU to here,” you say as you walk past the quad. “That’s a big change.”
“Yeah.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My dad got relocated for work, and the family moved. Figured I’d come with them rather than stay in New York alone. Plus, cheaper tuition as an in-state student.”
“That’s fair. How are you liking it so far?”
“Campus is nice. People seem cool.” He glances at you. “Present company especially.” It’s flirty but not obnoxiously so, and you feel your face warm slightly.
“Wait until you experience your first real winter here,” you say, deflecting. “Then we’ll see if you still think it’s nice.”
“I’m from New York. I can handle cold.”
“This is different. This is Midwest cold. The kind that hurts your face.”
He laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.”
You show him a few more buildings, and by the time you’re done, your break is almost over. “This was really helpful,” Daniel says. “Seriously, thank you.”
“No problem.”
“Can I get your number? In case I have questions about class or campus stuff?” It’s innocent enough. Just a new student wanting help navigating. You give him your number. “Thanks.” He saves it in his phone. “I’ll see you next class?”
“Yeah, see you.” You watch him walk away, and you’re surprised to find yourself smiling a little.
You don’t think much about Daniel over the next few days. You’re busy with midterms and work and your friends. And Jungwon. Especially Jungwon.
You’ve been spending even more time together lately—studying at his place, grabbing food between classes, and obviously still hooking up regularly. It’s gotten to the point where you have a toothbrush at his apartment and he has spare clothes at yours. It should worry you how domestic it’s becoming. It doesn’t.
You’re at his place on Saturday night, both of you on his bed with your laptops, supposedly working on separate assignments but really just procrastinating together. “I’m so sick of this essay,” you groan, flopping backward.
“How much do you have left?”
“Like, three pages.”
“That’s not bad.”
“It’s three pages I don’t want to write.” You roll over to look at him. “Entertain me.”
“I’m busy.”
“No you’re not. You’ve been on the same paragraph for twenty minutes.”
He closes his laptop with a sigh. “Fine. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. Something that isn’t homework.”
He shifts closer, hand sliding up your thigh. “I can think of something.”
“We literally had sex an hour ago.”
“So?”
You laugh and push his hand away. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only with you.” He’s smiling but there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest tight.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it and see a text from an unknown number.
unknown: hey! it’s daniel from marketing class. hope this isn’t weird but i had a question about the assignment due next week?
You smile and save his contact. you: not weird at all! what’s your question?
“Who’s that?” Jungwon asks, and there’s an edge to his voice.
“New guy in my marketing class. He transferred from NYU.”
“And he’s texting you?”
“He had a question about the assignment.” You glance at Jungwon. “Why?”
“No reason.” But his jaw is tight, and you recognize that look. He’s jealous.
Your phone buzzes again. daniel: professor chen mentioned something about a group project? do you know if groups are assigned or if we pick our own?
you: we pick our own! usually groups of 3-4. i can add you to mine if you want? we still need one more person
daniel: that would be amazing. thank you! also totally unrelated but are you free tomorrow? wanted to check out that coffee place you mentioned and could use the company
You hesitate. It’s just coffee. Daniel is nice, and he’s new and doesn’t know anyone. It would be rude to say no. you: sure! i’m free around 2?
daniel: perfect. i’ll meet you there
You set your phone down and find Jungwon staring at you. “What?”
“You’re getting coffee with him?”
“He’s new. He doesn’t know anyone. I’m being nice.”
“Right. Nice.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Jungwon, it’s just coffee.”
“Does he know that?”
“Know what?”
“That it’s ‘just coffee.’ Or does he think it’s a date?”
You sit up. “It’s not a date. We’re literally just getting coffee. Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“You clearly do.”
“I just—” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Never mind. Do whatever you want.”
“I am doing whatever I want. That’s kind of the point of this arrangement, remember?”
The words come out harsher than you intended, and something flashes across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger, you can’t tell. “Right,” he says quietly. “The arrangement.”
The air between you feels heavy, wrong. You want to take it back, to explain that you don’t actually want to get coffee with Daniel, that you’d rather spend tomorrow with Jungwon like you spend most days. But you don’t say any of that. “I should go,” you say instead, closing your laptop. “It’s late.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I have an early class tomorrow anyway.” You gather your stuff quickly, and Jungwon doesn’t try to stop you. When you leave, he doesn’t ask you to stay like he usually does. You tell yourself it’s fine. Everything’s fine.
Coffee with Daniel is actually really nice. He’s waiting outside the café when you arrive, and he lights up when he sees you. “Hey! Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.”
Inside, the place is cozy and warm, smelling like espresso and cinnamon. You order your usual and Daniel gets some complicated drink with like five different modifiers. “High maintenance,” you tease as you find a table by the window.
“I know what I like,” he says, grinning. “Can’t fault me for that.”
You spend the next hour just talking. He tells you about growing up in New York, his family, his friends back home. He asks about your life, your major, your friends. He’s a good listener, asking follow-up questions, seeming genuinely interested. It’s easy. Comfortable. And he’s cute—you can’t deny that. The way he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. The way he leans forward when you’re talking, giving you his full attention.
“So,” he says eventually, stirring his drink. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or… partner? I don’t want to assume.”
Your stomach drops. “I—no. Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” He raises an eyebrow, curious, not pushy.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
You shouldn’t tell him. It’s none of his business. But something about the way he’s looking at you, open and interested, makes you want to talk about it. “There’s this guy,” you say slowly. “We’ve been… hooking up. For a few months now. It’s supposed to be casual but lately it feels like…”
“Like it’s not casual anymore?” Daniel finishes.
“Yeah.”
“Does he know you feel that way?”
“I don’t know. We don’t really talk about it.” You take a sip of your coffee. “It’s stupid. We had rules. No feelings, no complications. And I’m the one who’s complicating it.”
“Feelings aren’t stupid,” Daniel says gently. “And if he’s worth anything, he feels the same way.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’s an idiot.” He smiles. “For what it’s worth, any guy who has you and doesn’t want more is definitely an idiot.”
It’s sweet. Maybe a little too sweet, a little too flirty, but you find yourself smiling back. “Thanks, Daniel.”
“Anytime.” He checks his phone. “Shit, I have to go. Meeting my parents for dinner. But this was really fun. We should do it again?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
“Cool.” He stands, shrugging on his jacket. “See you in class Tuesday?”
“See you then.” You watch him leave, and you’re not sure how to feel. Daniel is nice. He’s attractive and smart and funny, and he’s clearly interested in you. But he’s not Jungwon. Your phone buzzes.
jungwon: you busy tonight?
You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back. you: studying with maya. why?
It’s a lie. You don’t have plans. But you need space to think, to figure out what you’re doing.
jungwon: nothing. just wanted to see you. have fun studying
The guilt sits heavy in your chest.
You avoid Jungwon for the next few days. It’s not hard—you claim you’re busy with midterms and assignments, which is partially true. But really, you just need time to sort through your feelings.
Because the truth is, you’re falling for him. Have been falling for him for months now. And the idea of telling him and having him not feel the same way, of losing what you have, terrifies you. So you throw yourself into other things. Classes. Assignments. Your friends. And Daniel.
He texts you throughout the week—memes, questions about class, random observations about campus life. It’s friendly and light and uncomplicated. You tell yourself that’s why you respond, why you agree to study together in the library, why you sit next to him in Marketing and laugh at his whispered jokes during lectures. But you know that’s not entirely true. You know you’re using Daniel as a distraction. And it’s not fair to him.
On Thursday, you’re leaving your Marketing class with Daniel when you run into the group. Literally—you turn a corner and almost collide with Maya and Jake.
“Oh! Hey!” Maya says, then notices Daniel. “Who’s this?”
“This is Daniel. He’s new. Daniel, this is Maya and Jake.”
“Nice to meet you,” Daniel says, friendly and charming.
“You too,” Maya says, but she’s giving you a look. “We’re all getting lunch. You want to come?”
“Oh, um—”
“You should definitely come,” Jake says. “Whole group’s gonna be there.” Your stomach sinks. Whole group means Jungwon.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Daniel starts.
“You’re not intruding,” Maya insists. “The more the merrier. Right, Y/N?”
“Right,” you say weakly.
Lunch is at the student center food court, and by the time you arrive with Daniel, everyone else is already there—Maya and Jake, Liv and Reina, Jay and Sunghoon, Heeseung and Sunoo and Niki. And Jungwon. He’s sitting at the end of the table, and when he sees you walk in with Daniel, something shutters in his expression.
“Everyone, this is Daniel,” you announce. “He just transferred here.”
Everyone introduces themselves, welcoming and friendly, and Daniel fits in easily. He’s charming and funny, and within minutes, he’s got Reina laughing at some story about his first week on campus. You sit across from Jungwon, and the tension is suffocating.
“So Daniel,” Sunghoon says. “Where’d you transfer from?”
“NYU.”
“Damn, that’s a downgrade,” Heeseung jokes, and everyone laughs.
“I don’t know,” Daniel says, and his hand brushes yours on the table. “I’m liking it here so far.” The touch is casual, probably meaningless. But Jungwon’s eyes lock onto it, and his jaw clenches.
“How do you and Y/N know each other?” Niki asks.
“We have Marketing together,” you say quickly. “I’ve been helping him get caught up.”
“Y/N’s been a lifesaver,” Daniel adds. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.” It’s innocent. Friendly. But the way he’s looking at you is… not. And Jungwon sees it.
“That’s nice,” Jungwon says, voice flat. “Y/N’s good at helping people.” There’s an undercurrent there that makes you flinch.
The conversation moves on, everyone eating and talking, but you’re hyperaware of Jungwon across from you. He’s barely touched his food, just pushing it around his plate, and every time Daniel says something that makes you smile, Jungwon’s expression gets darker.
“So Y/N,” Reina says. “You still seeing that mystery guy? The one who’s so good in bed?”
You want to die. “Reina—”
“What? I’m just asking!”
“What mystery guy?” Daniel asks, curious.
“There’s no mystery guy,” you say firmly. “Reina’s making stuff up.”
“I’m literally not. You told Niki about him.”
“That was months ago.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Daniel asks, and there’s hope in his voice.
Before you can answer, Jungwon stands abruptly. “I gotta go. Got class.”
“But we just sat down,” Heeseung protests.
“I forgot I have to talk to my professor about something.” He grabs his bag and leaves without looking at you. The table goes quiet for a beat.
“What’s up with him?” Jake asks.
“No idea,” Sunoo says, but he’s looking at you thoughtfully.
“Maybe he’s not feeling well,” Maya suggests.
You know that’s not it. You know exactly what’s wrong. “I should—” You start to stand. “I should check on him.”
“Why?” Reina asks.
“Because we’re friends. And he seemed upset.”
“I’ll come with you,” Daniel offers.
“No,” you say, too quickly. “I mean—you should stay. Finish eating. I’ll be right back.”
You don’t wait for a response before hurrying after Jungwon. You catch him outside the building, heading toward the parking lot. “Jungwon, wait!” He stops but doesn’t turn around. “What was that?” you ask when you reach him.
“What was what?”
“You know what. Walking out like that.”
He finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes makes your chest hurt. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”
“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”
“You really don’t know?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You show up with that guy, he’s all over you, looking at you like—” He breaks off, running a hand through his hair. “And you’re just letting it happen.”
“He’s not all over me. We’re friends.”
“Does he know that? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like he thinks you’re something more.”
“Even if he did, why do you care? We’re not together, remember? That’s the whole point.”
“Right,” he says bitterly. “The arrangement. How could I forget?”
“Jungwon—”
“Are you into him?”
The question catches you off guard. “What?”
“Daniel. Are you into him?”
“I—no. Not like that.”
“But you could be.” It’s not a question. “If things were different. If we weren’t…” He gestures between you, unable to finish the sentence.
“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Maybe. He’s nice. And he’s—”
“Uncomplicated,” Jungwon finishes. “He’s not sneaking around. He could actually take you on dates, be seen with you, give you what you want.”
“What I want?”
“More.” He steps closer. “You want more than this, Y/N. I can see it. And I can’t—”
He stops, and your heart is pounding. “You can’t what?”
“I can’t give you that.” His voice is rough. “This—us—it’s supposed to be casual. No strings. That’s what we agreed.”
“And what if I don’t want casual anymore?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “What if I want more?”
He stares at you, and for a moment you think he’s going to say it—that he wants more too, that this has been killing him the same way it’s been killing you. But then he looks away. “I can’t,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”
It feels like the ground has been pulled out from under you. “Right,” you manage. “Okay.”
“It’s fine.” You’re backing away, fighting tears. “You’re right. This was always supposed to be casual. My mistake for thinking it could be anything else.”
“That’s not—”
“I should get back. Everyone’s waiting.” You turn and walk away before he can say anything else, before you completely fall apart in front of him.
When you get back to the table, Daniel takes one look at your face and frowns. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you lie. “Just… tired. Long week.”
“Want me to walk you home?”
You should say no. Should put some distance between you and Daniel before this gets messy. But you’re hurt and angry and you don’t want to be alone. “Yeah,” you say. “That’d be nice.”
As you leave with Daniel, you don’t see Jungwon watching from across the quad, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like his world just fell apart.
You don’t talk to Jungwon for the rest of the week. He texts a few times— casual messages asking how you are, if you want to study, if you’re okay. You respond with short, noncommittal answers.
The group notices. How could they not? You and Jungwon have been attached at the hip for months, and suddenly you can barely be in the same room. “What happened between you two?” Liv asks when you’re alone in your apartment.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been miserable all week.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re avoiding him. And he’s been moping around like someone kicked his puppy.” You don’t answer, just stare at your laptop screen without actually seeing it. “Did something happen with Daniel?” she presses gently.
“No. Daniel’s just a friend.”
“Does Jungwon know that?”
“It doesn’t matter what Jungwon thinks.”
Liv is quiet for a moment. “You should talk to him. Actually talk. Because this? This is worse than whatever you’re avoiding.”
You know she’s right. But you’re scared. Scared that if you talk to Jungwon, you’ll have to end things for real. That you’ll have to accept that he doesn’t want what you want, that these past few months have meant something completely different to him than they have to you.
So you do what you’ve been doing—you avoid him. And you spend more time with Daniel.
It’s Friday night, and there’s a party at some senior’s house. You show up with Liv and Reina, already a few drinks in from pregaming, and the place is packed. You lose your friends almost immediately in the crowd. You’re making your way to the kitchen when you spot Daniel. “Hey!” He brightens when he sees you. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.” You’re definitely drunker than you thought. “Having fun?”
“More fun now.” He hands you a drink. “Here. It’s strong, fair warning.” You take it and down half of it in one go. “Rough week?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
The music is loud, bass thumping through your chest, and Daniel leans in closer to be heard. “Want to go somewhere quieter? Maybe talk?”
You should say no. You know where this is going, and it’s not fair to Daniel or to yourself or to— “Sure,” you say.
He leads you upstairs, finding an empty bedroom, and closes the door behind you. It muffles the music, making it easier to hear. “Better?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He sits on the bed and you sit next to him, suddenly very aware that you’re alone together in a bedroom. “Can I ask you something?” Daniel says.
“Sure.”
“That guy you mentioned. The complicated one. Is it… are you still involved with him?”
You take another sip of your drink. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s complicated.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“I told him. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Then he’s an idiot.” Daniel shifts closer. “Because you’re incredible, Y/N. Smart and funny and beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”
“Daniel—”
“I like you,” he says. “I know we just met, and maybe the timing is shit, but I really like you. And if this other guy can’t see what he has, then…”
He trails off, and then he’s leaning in, and you realize he’s going to kiss you. You should stop him. You should explain that you’re not over Jungwon, that you’re not in a place to start something new.
But you’re drunk and hurt and you want to feel wanted by someone who isn’t afraid to show it. So you let him kiss you. It’s nice. He’s a good kisser— soft lips, careful hands, nothing like—
The door opens. “Y/N, Liv’s looking for—” Jungwon stops dead in the doorway.
You jerk back from Daniel, but it’s too late. Jungwon saw. And the look on his face— betrayal and hurt and anger all mixed together—makes your stomach drop. “Jungwon—”
“Sorry,” he says, voice tight. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He’s gone before you can say anything else, door slamming behind him. “Shit,” you breathe.
“Who was that?” Daniel asks.
“I—” You stand up, suddenly feeling very sober. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Y/N, wait—” But you’re already out the door, pushing through the crowded hallway, trying to find Jungwon. You catch him on the front porch, about to leave.
“Jungwon, wait!” He stops, shoulders tense, but doesn’t turn around. “It’s not— that wasn’t—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he says, finally facing you. “You can kiss whoever you want.”
“It didn’t mean anything—”
“Didn’t it?” His eyes are hard. “Looked like it meant something.”
“I was just—I was upset and drunk and he was there—”
“And I wasn’t,” Jungwon finishes. “Because you’ve been avoiding me all week.”
“You told me you couldn’t give me more! What did you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know!” He’s yelling now, and a few people on the porch are staring. “I don’t know, Y/N. But I didn’t expect you to move on in a fucking week.”
“I’m not moving on! And even if I was, why do you care? You made it clear you don’t want—”
“I never said I didn’t want—” He breaks off, jaw clenched. “Fuck.”
“What? You never said you didn’t want what?”
“You!” The word explodes out of him. “I never said I didn’t want you. I said I couldn’t give you more, and that’s different.”
You stare at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I’m terrified, okay?” His voice cracks. “I’m terrified because this stopped being casual for me months ago, and I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be what you need.”
Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. “Jungwon—”
“I see the way Daniel looks at you. Like you’re everything. And I want to be that guy— the one who can take you on dates and hold your hand in public and tell everyone you’re mine. But I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. That I’ll lose you completely.”
“So instead you’re losing me anyway,” you say quietly. He flinches like you hit him. “I’m falling for you,” you continue, and the words feel like jumping off a cliff. “I’ve been falling for you for months. And it’s been killing me because I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”
“I do,” he says desperately. “I do feel the same way. I just—”
“You just what?”
“I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“Jungwon, we’ve already ruined it. Pretending we can keep things casual when we both feel more—that’s what’s ruining it.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and you can see him struggling with something. “If we do this,” he says finally, “if we make this real— what if it doesn’t work? What if we end up hating each other?”
“What if we don’t?” you counter. “What if it’s amazing?”
“What about the group? If things go bad—”
“We’ll figure it out. But Jungwon, I’d rather try and fail than spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”
He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face, and then— “Fuck it,” he mutters, and then he’s kissing you.
It’s different from every other kiss you’ve shared. More desperate, more meaningful. Like he’s pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.
When you break apart, you’re both breathless. “So,” you manage. “Does this mean—”
“It means I want to be with you. For real. No more hiding, no more pretending.” He cups your face in his hands. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Even the group?”
“Especially the group.” He smiles, and it’s tentative but real. “They probably already know anyway.”
You laugh, and it feels like relief. “Probably.”
“What about Daniel?”
“I’ll talk to him. Explain. But Jungwon, there’s nothing there. It’s always been you.”
“Yeah?” His smile widens.
“Yeah.” He kisses you again, softer this time, and you hear whooping from inside the house. You break apart to find half your friend group watching from the window—Reina and Liv and Maya and the guys all grinning like idiots.
“FINALLY!” Reina screams, and everyone laughs. Jungwon pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.
“So,” he murmurs against your hair. “Want to get out of here? I think we have some things to talk about.”
“And by talk you mean—”
“Actually talk,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “We should probably figure out how to actually do this relationship thing.”
“We should,” you agree. “But maybe we can do the talking back at your place? I’m still kind of drunk and these heels are killing me.” He laughs and takes your hand— openly, for everyone to see— and leads you toward his car.
As you leave, you glance back at the house and catch Daniel watching from the doorway. He looks sad but understanding, and he raises his cup in a small salute. You mouth “sorry,” and he nods. You’ll explain everything to him later. Right now, you just want to be with Jungwon.
You wake up to sunlight streaming through Jungwon’s window and his arm draped across your waist. For a moment, you just lie there, listening to his steady breathing, trying to process that this is real now. You’re actually dating Jungwon. Your phone buzzes— multiple times. You reach for it and find the group chat exploding.
reina: SO ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT LAST NIGHT OR
maya: I KNEW IT
liv: you all owe me $20 btw
jay: jungwon if you hurt her i’m fighting you
you: good morning to you too
reina: GOOD MORNING??? THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY???
you: yes we’re official
reina: EXTREMELY
you: and we’ve been hooking up since that party in august
heeseung: AUGUST?????
reina: I FUCKING KNEW IT
Jungwon stirs beside you, eyes fluttering open. When he sees you, he smiles— soft and sleepy and genuine. “Morning,” he says, voice rough.
“Morning.” You show him your phone. “We’re famous.”
He scrolls through, laughing. “They’re ridiculous.”
jungwon: i’m not going to hurt her
jay: good
reina: now that that’s settled TELL US EVERYTHING
The “mandatory celebration” ends up being at Jay and Sunghoon’s that evening. By the time you and Jungwon arrive— together, holding hands— everyone else is already there. “THERE THEY ARE!” Reina shouts. “The happy couple!”
Maya rushes over to hug you. “I’m so happy for you!”
Jake hands you both drinks. “So, real talk. How long have you actually had feelings for each other?”
“I’ve liked her since before we started hooking up,” Jungwon says. “Remember that party in July? When you wore that black dress?”
Your face is burning. “You never said anything.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t think you were interested. And then the bet happened and… well, you know the rest.”
“What about you?” Liv asks.
“Probably that first morning after,” you admit. “When we were texting about the arrangement and he was being all careful. That’s when I started thinking he might be different.”
Several drinks later, everyone’s sprawled around the living room. You’re tucked into Jungwon’s side on the couch, and it feels so natural. “Real talk,” Jay says, tone serious. “I’m happy for you guys. But—” He looks at Jungwon. “—you hurt her, and we have a problem.”
“I know. And I’m not going to hurt her. I’m—” He looks at you. “—I’m in love with her.”
The room goes silent. Your heart stops. “What?” you whisper.
“I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I was just too scared to say it.”
“I love you too, you idiot.” You’re shaking your head. “I’ve been in love with you for months.” His smile is brilliant. He kisses you, and this time it’s softer, more tender.
“Okay, we’re leaving,” Reina announces. “Before this gets too cute.”
After everyone leaves, you and Jungwon stay on the couch. “I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “About loving you.”
“I meant it too.” You shift to straddle his lap. “I love you, Jungwon.”
He cuts you off with a kiss. “Want to go home?”
You end up at his place. The second you’re inside, he’s on you, kissing you with urgency. “Bedroom,” you gasp.
“Too far.” He lifts you, carries you to the couch. You land in a tangle of limbs, laughing, then his mouth is on your neck. “I love you,” he murmurs.
“Show me,” you challenge.
He does. He takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin. When you’re both finally naked, he hovers over you. “This is different now. Better,” he says. “I get to keep you.”
“You always had me.”
“I know. But now I don’t have to pretend I don’t want forever.”
“Forever?”
“Too soon?”
“No.” You pull him down. “Not too soon.”
He makes love to you slowly, thoroughly. More intimate. More real. Every touch feels like a confession. He enters you with a groan, and you wrap your legs around him. The rhythm is unhurried, sensual. He angles his hips just right, and his hand slides between your bodies to rub your clit. “God, you feel so perfect,” he breathes. “So tight and wet for me.”
“Jungwon— fuck— don’t stop—” He doesn’t. He keeps that perfect pace until you’re trembling. When you come, clenching around him, he follows right after with a moan of your name.
When you’re both spent on his couch, you feel something settle in your chest. “We should move to the bed,” he says eventually.
“Heeseung’s going to be home soon.” You gather clothes and make it to his room. “Stay,” he says.
“Obviously.” You curl into his side. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The next morning, you wake to Jungwon’s alarm. Your head is pounding. “Turn it off,” you groan.
“We have brunch in an hour.”
Forty-five minutes later— after a shower where Jungwon pressed you against the tile and made you come on his fingers— you’re dressed and heading to the diner. You walk in holding hands. The sight of your friend group crammed into booths makes you smile.
“There they are!” Maya calls. You slide in next to Liv, Jungwon beside you, arm over your shoulders.
“So,” Sunoo says. “Now that you guys are official, does this mean we have to watch you be gross?”
“We’re not going to be gross,” you protest.
Jungwon immediately kisses your cheek. “Can’t promise that.”
“How long did you actually know?” you ask.
“I knew from the start,” Liv says. “You’re my roommate. You think I didn’t notice when you’d come home at 3 AM with hickeys?”
The conversation shifts to other topics, and it’s easy. Normal. Like nothing’s changed except now you don’t have to hide.
Later that day, you’re back at Jungwon’s, on the couch watching a movie. “Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Always.”
“Why did you kiss Daniel?”
“Honestly? I was drunk and hurt and he was there. It was stupid.”
“Did you… were you interested in him?”
“No.” You shift to look at him. “He’s nice, but I was so hung up on you.”
“Good.” He kisses you. “Because I was losing my mind.”
“Every time I was with him, I kept thinking about you.”
“You have me now.” His arms tighten. “For as long as you want me.”
“Forever, remember?”
“Forever,” he agrees.
“Want to order food and spend the rest of the day in bed?”
“Is that code for something?”
“Food, bed, probably some making out, definitely a nap.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Later that night, after Chinese food and another round of sex— with you riding him while he gripped your hips and watched you with dark eyes— you’re lying in his bed. “Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?”
“For being brave enough to tell me how you felt. I would have lost you if you hadn’t.”
“You wouldn’t have lost me. I was too far gone.”
“Speaking of which,” he says. “You could just keep some more stuff here. Make it official.”
“Jungwon, we’ve been officially dating for less than 24 hours.”
“So? We’ve been unofficially together for months.”
He has a point. “Fine. I’ll bring some stuff over tomorrow.” And he’s grinning from ear to ear
Three weeks later, you’re at another party— pre-Thanksgiving. This time, everything’s different. You and Jungwon arrive together, hands intertwined. When he pulls you onto the dance floor, you don’t worry about who’s watching. “Having fun?” he asks.
“So much fun.” You loop your arms around his neck. “This is better than hiding.”
“Way better.” He kisses you.
Later, in the kitchen, Daniel approaches. You haven’t really talked since that night. “Hey,” he says. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” Jungwon gives your hand a squeeze and steps away.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Daniel starts. “For that night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have been clearer. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“It’s okay. I get it now.” He glances at Jungwon. “That’s him, right?”
“Yeah. Not so complicated anymore.”
“Good. You seem happy.”
“I am. Really happy.” You hesitate. “Are we okay?”
“We’re okay. Friends?”
“Friends,” you agree.
He leaves, and Jungwon returns to your side. “That looked like it went well.”
“It did.” You lean into him. “Everything’s good.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Everything’s really good.”
You stay like that, watching your friends scattered around— your family. And Jungwon, solid and warm behind you. “I love you,” you say.
“I love you too.” He kisses your neck. “Want to get out of here?”
“And do what?”
“Go back to my place. Watch a movie. Make out. Order food. Fall asleep together. All the boring couple stuff.”
“That sounds perfect.” You say goodbye to your friends and head out.
“Your place or mine?” Jungwon asks.
“Yours. I already have a toothbrush there.”
He grins. “Look at us, being all domestic.”
“It’s disgusting.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
As he drives through the quiet streets, his hand finds yours, and you think about how different things were just months ago. When you were both pretending, both scared, both holding back. And now you’re here. Together. For real. “What are you thinking about?” Jungwon asks.
“Just… how happy I am. How glad I am that we figured this out.”
“Me too.” He brings your joined hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Best decision I ever made.”
“Proving you could make me come?”
He laughs. “No. Although that was a good decision too. I meant taking a chance on this. On us.”
“We both took a chance.”
“And it paid off.”
“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It really did.”
Back at his apartment, you fall into your routine— changing into his drawer of your clothes, brushing teeth side by side, collapsing onto his bed. “Movie?” he asks.
“Sure. Nothing too intense though.” He puts on a comedy, and you curl into his side. This is your favorite part. Not the sex— though that’s amazing— but this. The quiet moments. The casual intimacy.
“Hey Y/N?” Jungwon says softly.
“Hmm?”
“I’m really glad you’re mine.”
You lift your head. “I’m glad I’m yours too. And that you’re mine.”
“Always,” he promises, and kisses you.
Lying there in his arms, warm and safe and loved, you believe him. This is just the beginning. And you can’t wait to see where it goes.
your body is so sweet, sweet, sweet — sugar on my tongue, tyler the creator
⤷ ゛yang jungwon just can’t get enough of your sweet taste on his tongue. ˎˊ˗
jungwon x fem!reader ──── smut, pwop, mdni ⟡ munch jungwon, pussy drunk jungwon, oral (f. receiving), dacryphilia, overstimulation, light dubcon (? reader tries to push jungwon away but she doesn’t rlly want him to stop), cursing, jungwon referred to as wonnie / 1k wc
a/n: first fic on the revamped acc. just a few small drabbles for now while i work on some longer fics. i have a few more practically finished so i’ll post those soon too. i have so many fic ideas i’m so excited to start posting again !! also boycott belift and enhypen is 7 <3
your boyfriend was a very generous man. jungwon would gift you expensive shoes and gorgeous dresses that sparkled with each step; would bring you food every few hours just to make sure you’ve been well fed; would drop anything and everything for you, even when exhausted and busy.
he was generous, but he wasn’t a saint.
jungwon expected a gift of his own.
you were flat on your back with your hands clenched tightly in the crumpled sheets—a position you had been in for hours by now. if you had pulled any harder you’re sure your nails would’ve ripped lines straight through the dark fabric. every slurp and smack of his lips against your soaked cunt sent shivers down your spine with each filthy noise that hit your ears.
you had absolutely nowhere to go; jungwon made sure of that. he gently took hold of your calf and slowly slid your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, his strong arms locking around your hips while his hands find their way to the plush skin of your thighs to keep you from crawling away. while you were being forcibly turned into a whimpering and crying mess, jungwon seemed perfectly content where he was. his thick brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his eyes drifting shut so his dark lashes now rested on his flushed pink cheeks. his tongue licked eagerly at your essence like a cat licking up cream.
you were trying so hard to be good for him, to let him take what he wants from you and not shove him off from the constant stimulation. he always gives so much to you after all, you didn’t want to rip this away from him.
“oh, god.” jungwon murmurs, his brain nearly just as fuzzy as yours.
from where you stood—or laid—he looked nearly angelic, if it weren’t for the sinful things he was partaking in between your thighs.
“so fuckin’ good… fuck, you taste sooo fuckin’ good.” jungwon groaned. the praise made you clench down and grind your hips against his face, though you’re only half sure he was addressing you and not just murmuring to himself. he licked slow stripes up your slit, gave your clit a soft suck, then dipped back down to slide his tongue into your entrance. he repeated this over and over, moaning against your hole and pausing occasionally to give it soft kisses.
after what felt like hours upon hours of orgasm after orgasm being wrung out of you and into his mouth, you started to feel like your mind was truly melting. tears gloss over your eyes and your hands come up to push at jungwon’s head, your hips bucking up as if your body was fighting between chasing after his mouth and wanting it off of you. “wonnie, please.”
jungwon growls low against your skin, his large hand spreading heavy across your lower stomach to pin you back down to the mattress.
“stop fucking moving.” he spits, his sharp eyes finally opening and locking onto yours. you freeze up immediately, his intense gaze spearing straight through your complaints and stopping them dead in their tracks. a long whine leaves your lips in protest, but your head lolls back into the pillows and exposes the pure, clean skin of your neck. one hand stayed loosely laced in his hair as the other slid back down to cling to the bed sheets.
your submission makes jungwon grin wolfishly against you, his eyes fluttering shut as his voice dips to a low, raspy tone that makes your tummy flip. “that’s it... just lay there and take it.”
jungwon’s tongue pushes back into you. the feeling of his wet muscle licking deeper and deeper with each kiss to your entrance made you clench and gush around him. his hips start to slowly drag along the mattress, his cock heavy and throbbing in his gray sweats. he groaned at the friction, the vibration against your clit making you jolt.
“oh!” you gasp out. your nth high of the night starts to build and build fast, your back arching off the bed once more as your hand starts to yank at the mattress beneath you. gasps and moans rip from your throat sharp and loud, your chest heaving with sobs as your thighs attempt to snap closed around jungwon’s ears. “jungwon! no—hng!”
your sobbing doesn’t deter jungwon; if anything it only spurs him on more, his eating getting messier and twice as intense as he straight up pushes his face into you. his curved nose slides along your slit and bumps into your clit over and over again, the extra stimulation finally sending you over the edge.
“f-fuck, fuck! wonnie!” your body shakes as your nth climax of the night crashes over you, your brain blanking out and your nerves lighting up like you’d been shocked by a live wire. you’re pretty sure that you might’ve passed out for a second. jungwon’s tongue eagerly laps up each drop of your cum that leaks out of you, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the sweet taste of your finish in his mouth. he gently licks you through it and slides his palms back and forth lazily along the soft skin of your thighs, only pulling back when you weakly bring your hand down to tap his head.
he grins up at you, and despite the lower half of his face being slicked up with spit and your cum, he looks proud of himself. jungwon presses soft kisses along your trembling thighs to soothe you and help you gently come down from your high. your fingers instinctively rake through his soft hair, contented purrs rumbling in his chest each time your nails scratch against his scalp. your chest rises up and down steadily as your breathing finally starts to level out.
jungwon presses one last kiss to your thigh before pulling back to stare into your eyes. the action seemed sweet at first, but when his jaw went slack and his tongue poked out between his teeth, his heavy panting escaping with each heaving breath he took, you quickly realized he was still hungry. a shock rushes through your body at the mere thought of him wanting—no, needing more.
“no, wonnie—“ you shook your head, your hands coming up to his shoulders to try and keep him off of you, but he just smacked them away.
“we’re not done yet.” jungwon growled before his head dipped back down again.
requested ▸ many people :’)
ᯓ an — jongseob being the secret freak in piwon? of course i was going to hop on that
MASTERLIST
“Jiung, open the damn door. I need to pee!”
“Well, so do I!”
You grunt out in frustration, banging on the door again but you get no response. “Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for having that last beer as you look around the hall.
Jongseob’s door is cracked open. If you remember right, he has his own bathroom attached to his bedroom.
You don’t bother asking for permission; you’re well past those niceties and he’s too caught up in kicking Keeho’s ass in Mario Kart.
So you abandon your post by the powder room and shove your way into his bedroom frantically.
You only pause for a second to take in the surprisingly neat aesthetic of his room. But then your bladder pulses threateningly so you abandon your admiration and beeline to the door adjacent to the entrance.
As soon as you open the door, your stomach falls and peeing becomes the last of your worries.
You should’ve just waited for Jiung.
Because there, hanging from the curtain rod where curtains should be, are ropes and leather binds and—and fur-lined handcuffs?
They’re all black, some with silver hoops and rings, and the only thing going through your mind is who is stowing their bondage shit in Jongseob’s room?
Your first thought is immediately Soul, but then Soul would probably hang them around his apartment loud and proud.
Theo? No, also loud and proud.
Keeho doesn’t strike you as the type and Intak wouldn’t be the one doing the tying, unless he had them on the ready for his partners to use on him.
Jiung… is a bit of an enigma but he would be the type to lock this stuff away in a safe somewhere if he had people over.
Jongseob doesn’t have any other friends so that just leaves you with… Jongseob.
Your stomach falls again.
Is Jongseob a secret fucking freak?
The thought shakes you so violently that you jump back and slam the door shut.
You feel cold. And hot. And like you’re dizzy and about to fall. You need to get out of here.
So you book it out of his room, crashing right into Jiung as he steps out into the hall.
“Woah!” He exclaims, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you up to your feet when you nearly go tumbling down with him. “Bathrooms free, you can—are you okay?”
You blink up at his concerned eyes as he flattens his palm against your forehead.
“You look a little pale. Are you nauseous?”
You swat him away, stepping back and brushing yourself down as heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you huff, shoving past him to go back into the ruckus in the living room.
Jiung follows after you. “Don’t you need to pee?”
But you don’t hear him anymore, your eyes immediately landing on where Jongseob is trying to sabotage Keeho by reaching over his own controller to fuck with him.
He looks so bright and cheery, giggling all sunshine and rainbows.
Definitely not like some sort of bondage master.
“Noona?” Soul asks from where he’s sitting on the couch. He holds a fresh beer can up to you in a silent offer.
You shake your head, slipping into the free spot beside him and Theo, on your other side, immediately takes his chance to throw his legs on your lap.
Your eyes stay on Jongseob. And your mind stays on thoughts of those ropes. On those ropes, in Jongseob’s hands. What he would do with them, who he would do those things to.
Safe to say, you go into a silent spiral. One that keeps you so preoccupied that you don’t even notice it when everyone has gotten up to leave.
“Hey,” Keeho’s voice rings, fingers snapping in front of your face. “We’re gonna head out. You stay here until you’re ready to drive home.”
You blink out of your daze, tilting your head up to look at him. “Huh?”
“Jongseob has your keys,” Theo says from behind him. “He’s under order not to give them to you when you don’t look like you’ll throw up on yourself.”
You open your mouth to protest but Keeho starts shoving Theo to the door where Jiung, Soul, and Intak are already wrapped up and ready to go.
“Wait, I can go home!” You try to argue and pull up to your feet, but a hand, slim and surprisingly strong, pushes on your shoulder to sit you right back down.
“You’re staying,” Jongseob says from behind you, before turning his attention to bid the others goodbye as they filter out of the apartment one by one.
And then you’re alone. With Jongseob.
Jongseob, the apparent bondage master.
Jongseob rounds the couch to tidy up the bits of his living room that are still left askewed even after the group effort to clean up.
And you watch him, his nimble fingers as he deftly fixes the position of his knick knacks on the coffee table and tv stand.
He’s always been good with his hands. You wonder if it’s because…
“I saw your bondage stuff in your bathroom,” you blurt against your will.
Jongseob freezes where he stands. Then he looks over his shoulder at you, and although he doesn’t look nearly as affected as you expect, there’s a tinge of red at the tips of his ear.
“What were you doing in my room?”
“Had to pee.”
He raises his brow. “Didn’t think to ask me first before going in there?”
You swallow, curling in on yourself at the reprimanding look in his eye. Does he look at his— stop.
“Sorry,” you say, then tack on like your brain just wants you to make everything worse than it needs to be. “Master.”
He glares at you before he moves on to fix the cushions of his couch. “You think it’s funny,” he says, watching you purse your lips to smother your giggle from the corner of his eye.
“No, not funny,” you say, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Just… shocked. You don’t seem like the type. You’re all shy and nerdy, ya know.”
Well, now that you think about it, it really always is the shy, nerdy type, isn’t it?
Jongseob seems to agree, if the little smirk he gets on his lips is anything to go by. “Believe what you want,” he says before moving on to his attached kitchen. “Tea?”
“I’m good.”
He’s being surprisingly casual about this. The Jongseob you know, or thought you knew, would stumble and babble his way through an embarrassed explanation.
But the way he just owns it is… a little headspinning. And it gets you thinking.
“So, are you a dom or a sub?”
You expect that to be his ticket to kick you out of his apartment.
But he answers with a calm, “I usually dom.”
“Ah.”
The whistle of the kettle takes over the silence as you’re left to your wandering thoughts.
“Can I try?”
There’s a clatter of glass against countertop then a sharp curse before a puzzled, “What?”
You rise to your knees on the couch, turning around to face his baffled expression on the other side of the counter that divides his kitchen and living room.
You didn’t even mean to ask it. But you can’t lie that your curiosity is killing you. You want to—no, need to see him in action.
“You heard me,” you state, folding your arms over the back cushions. “I want to try.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t something you just try. Bondage is complicated, it’s not just some sex thing that you’re probably thinking it is.”
“Okay, then teach me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
He stares at you for a moment that stretches long enough to make you think that maybe this was a bad idea and you should just get up and run away.
But then he starts walking over to you, slow and leisurely as he eyes you to gauge just how serious you are, and the fact that it makes you feel a little bit like prey keeps you glued to your place.
He stops in front of you, placing hands on either side of you on the cushions. “Do you understand what you’re asking for?”
You swallow, unable to speak as you stare up at him, frozen under the intensity of his gaze. “Yes?” You not-so-answer.
“You want to try bondage?” He asks, raising a brow. “You want me to tie you up. Is that it?”
You take in a shaky breath, squirming in your spot. “I-I guess I just want to see you in action.”
“As a dom?”
“…I suppose.”
“And you’re willing to be my sub?”
You pause. You didn’t think about it like that. But now that you are thinking about it, the answer couldn’t come quicker.
“Yes.”
His brows raise, like he hadn’t expected such an emphatic answer. But a smile, small and satisfied, lifts on his lips.
“Do you trust me?”
This answer comes instinctively. “I do.”
His smile lifts higher. “Good,” he pauses, letting his eyes roam over your face for a moment. “And if things get… sexual?”
You frown, puzzled. “Isn’t bondage sexual?”
“Not inherently,” he says, folding his arms against yours and lowering just enough so you can feel his breath brush against you as he speaks. “It can be therapeutic for a lot of people. A way to relax, let go of power and responsibility.” He raises a hand to brush a stray strand of your hair back, his fingertips a light breeze against your prickling skin. “As the dominant, it’s my job to guide my submissive safely into that mindset. To let them relinquish power to someone they trust so they can just… be.”
Maybe it’s the cadence of his deep voice, or the soft way that he speaks, or the gentle way that his thumb caresses your cheek. But you think you can already feel the kind of power he can hold. The kind that brings people under. Because even just listening to him now, like he’s guiding you through this conversation, you feel some of the threads of your own control slip into his hand.
“Sometimes it’s just that,” he adds quietly, his finger tracing down the slope of your jaw before resting under your chin. “Sometimes it’s more.”
You feel stuck under his gaze, warm and all encompassing.
“It’s whatever you want,” he mumbles.
More. Your brain screams at you.
“I want more,” you say.
His fingers wrap around your chin in a grip that doesn’t feel as considerate as his words. You wonder distantly if you’ve gotten yourself caught in a trap.
“Good,” he murmurs, thumb digging into the divot under your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part for him. “I was wondering when the day would come.”
You don’t get the chance, or have much of a mind, to process what that might mean because you’re quickly reminded of your bladder issue.
“Bathroom,” you say, and it’s so abrupt that he stares at you before breaking into a soft laugh.
He lets go of you and steps back, but that cocksure smirk of his lies waiting on his lips. “Meet me in my room.”
You take your time in the bathroom to reel in your racing mind and your racing heart.
You’re about to fuck one of your best friends. At least, you think you are. You didn’t think it was something you wanted but now that you know it’s an option, it’s all that you can think of, all that you find yourself wanting as you pad down the hallway to his bedroom.
His door is cracked open. You don’t hear anything on the other side.
You expected him to be the type to have on a playlist. Well, maybe he does whenever he goes vanilla. Does he do vanilla? Or is he strictly—okay, now is not the time.
You shake your head, taking a steadying breath as you reach for the doorknob and step into the fate you’ve stumbled yourself into.
There’s rope on the bed. Four neat coils of sturdy black rope on the bed, just waiting for you. No sight of leather or silver rings or handcuffs.
Jongseob stands across the bed, leaning back against his dresser as he coils a fifth length of rope around his hand.
He looks up at you when you step through the door, smiling at the blank look on your face.
“Sit,” he tells you, nodding over to the empty space he left for you at the foot of the bed.
Even just that simple command has your head reeling. Are you really that easy?
You make your way over on weak knees, sitting yourself down and looking up at him across from you.
And suddenly this all starts to feel real and not just some distant fantasy that brewed in your head borne out of childish curiosity.
He leaves you stewing in your anticipation for a few moments longer as he wrings his hands around the rope, letting his eyes rake over you. Even the way he looks at you exudes a quiet sense of control. It’s not obvious, but it’s there. You feel it in the way he doesn’t let his eyes stray from you even once, no inkling of nervousness or otherwise from his end.
“Do you know what a safeword is?” Is what he finally says to you.
You watch the way his fingers work around the rope before he holds it casually at his front, waiting for your answer.
“Yes,” you say quickly when you realize you’ve taken too long.
He chuckles, a little amused. “Are you feeling shy?”
“No,” you snap, shuffling in your seat. You pout when he raises a disbelieving brow at you, twisting your hands in your lap. “Just didn’t think you’d actually agree.”
“We don’t have to go through with—“
“I want to,” you cut in.
He stops, nodding as he licks his tongue over his smile. “Okay. Then in the case that you do want to stop at any point, we need a system. Do you know the traffic light system?”
“I do.”
He nods, moving over to place the final coil of rope with the others on the bed. “Explain it to me,” he says before moving back with his hands in his pockets.
You don’t know how he’s being so casual about this. But his nonchalance to it all makes you feel hot, makes that pressure between your hips grow present.
“When you ask me for a colour, I answer with green, yellow, or red,” you start, and only when he nods do you continue, “Green for go, yellow for slow, red for stop.”
“Good,” he says with a smile, and even just that bit of approval makes your heart flutter. “Do you know what shibari is?”
“I do.”
“That’s what I’ll be doing to you tonight.”
You glance to your left at all the coils of rope he’s got splayed out beside you. “So no leather, no chains?”
“Not tonight,” he says and that implication goes lost on you when he leans against his dresser, nods his chin at you, and says, “Take off your clothes.”
Your breath hitches, cheeks burning hot. Right. This is happening.
You take a steadying breath before you rise to your feet, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You meet his eyes a final time before you pull it off your body.
His gaze stays locked on you as you undress, and you wouldn’t think he was affected at all by his impassive expression if it weren’t for the tinge of red on his cheeks and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple.
You leave your clothes at the corner of his bed, not yet meeting his eye as you wait for further instruction.
“Good,” he breathes as he makes his way closer, reaching around you to pick up a coil of rope that he unwinds and folds in half. “Turn around.”
Again, the simple instruction leaves you feeling more affected than you should. You do as you’re told regardless.
“Hold your arms up and out,” he murmurs, humming in approval when you do.
You feel him step closer, the heat of his body like a physical weight against your bare skin. Then he reached around you to wrap the first length of rope around your upper chest, tying it at your back. It’s firm against your skin, but not uncomfortable or scratchy like you’d expected.
You feel his finger slip between your skin and the rope before tugging to test its sturdiness.
“Not too tight?” He asks and you shake your head.
“No,” you mumble. “It… actually feels nice.”
His palm presses into the side of your waist as he reaches around you to pick up another coil of rope. “That’s good,” he hums before the warmth of his hand is gone and the new stretch of rope comes around you.
Each new knot and loop that he adds to your body leaves you feeling more and more like you’re slipping further under his hand. You start to understand what he’d been trying to explain; the expulsion of power, and the appeal behind the notion.
All you can do is stand there as he puts together what can only be explained as a harness around your chest and your shoulders in intricate, symmetric shapes. He moves around your body here and there to check his knots and keep track of his work, all concentrated and stern the way he works his nimble fingers around you.
He takes this seriously. It makes you feel more at ease.
“Colour?” He asks you when he’s done with your chest, and it takes you a moment to get your senses together to answer.
“Green.”
He hums then uses his hands to bring your arms down. He picks up the third coil of rope and uses it to tie your upper arms down to the loops made at the sides of your upper torso, elbows bent to bind your forearms and hands together at your back.
His work is sturdy. There’s not much space for any movement when you give the binds an experimental tug.
“You okay?” He asks when he notices you wriggling.
“Y-Yeah, just…” You flush, relaxing under the ties. “Impressed.”
He smirks softly as he comes to stand in front of you, hooking his finger under the rope between your breasts and tugging lightly to test it. His eyes take you in, lingering at your chest before he reaches for another rope. You feel hot all over, exposed like this under his prying eyes.
The heat of his hand brushes against your thigh. “Part your legs a little for me,” he says gently, and you quickly comply, watching him as he snakes the rope around your legs and hips, framing your ass and your cunt, circling around your upper thighs.
It takes great effort to hold in your noises when you feel his hands nearly brush against the intimate parts of you. There’s no doubt you’re wet already, way too turned on than you should be with just some rope around your body. But you don’t need him to know that.
He does the fifth and final rope in intricate knots to connect the ones between your chest and your thighs, wrapping everything up in a neat little design that you can’t really see.
When he’s done, he moves to stand in front of you, letting his eyes drink you in.
“You look pretty like this,” he murmurs, hands brushing down your body before settling at your hips.
You make a soft, inadvertent noise when his fingers hook under the rope just to feel and appreciate his work.
“How’s it feel?” He asks you, one hand sliding up your body to cup under the swell of your breast.
It’s a simple touch that makes you want nothing more than for him to keep touching you, to take advantage of you in a state like this. Like you’re presented to him, all for his own pleasure.
“Feels good,” you murmur. “Green.”
He hums, satisfied. He moves his hand up, kneading your chest before pressing his thumb into your nipple. You gasp at the sensation as he starts to languidly circle it to a stiff peak.
“You’re a lot more pliant than I thought you’d be,” he muses, lifting his other hand to give your other breast the same attention. “I thought I’d have to teach you some manners.”
You swallow down a moan but it comes out in a whine anyways when he pinches your nipples, tugging at them once before his hands settle on your waist again.
“Wanna be good,” you manage to say, and the way he smirks at you gives you the ridiculous urge to drop to your knees and call him master.
“Yeah?” He asks, tongue flicking over his lower lip. “Wanna be a good girl for me?”
The words rush to your head and make your needy cunt throb. You nod immediately, never mind the fact that it’s probably pathetic how quickly you’re giving into him.
His fingers dig into your flesh between the ropes. “Use your words, pretty girl.”
“Yes,” you say immediately. “Wanna be good for you.”
“Good,” he whispers, eyes darkening as they rake down your figure again. “Lets start by getting you on the bed, hm?”
You nod and he moves around you, taking hold of the knot between your shoulder blades to steer you onto the bed, guiding you to the head of it before he handles you onto your side.
You go willingly, not that you have much of a choice under all the binds. But you welcome the lack of choice, the lack of a need to do anything. Because Jongseob is there to do it for you.
“Can I take a picture?” He suddenly asks you. You follow him with your eyes as he rounds to the foot of the bed, his eyes not leaving you once. “A Polaroid. Just one without your face. If you decide you don’t like it after everything then you can burn it.”
The thought of Jongseob wanting to have you immortalized like this does questionable things to your mindset. And you don’t hate the idea of seeing what you look like through his eyes.
So you agree. “You can.”
He doesn’t waste time, digging out his camera from his dresser before he steps back into place.
“Say cheese,” he teases once he lifts the camera, pointing his lens at you.
You giggle softly, complying despite it being completely useless as he snaps the picture.
You blink your eyes clear of the flash as he rounds the bed and places the camera and printed film on his bedside table.
Distantly, you wonder just how many pictures he has like that in his collection.
You don’t get much time to mull over it when he knees his way onto the bed. It hits you that he’s still fully dressed in his dark slacks and oversized black button up, and you’re only in rope.
It feels a little humiliating. And it only makes you more wet.
Without another word, Jongseob puts his hand on your hip and rolls you as far onto your back as he can given that your arms are in the way.
He seems completely mesmerized by the sight of you on his bed like this, eyes greedy as they drink you in.
“I couldn’t be more glad for someone invading my privacy,” he mutters under his breath, sliding a hand under your thigh to part your legs.
You hiss at the cold brush of air as you’re exposed. He only grins when he catches sight of the state you’re in.
“Looks like I’m not the only one either,” he chuckles.
You mewl in embarrassment, turning your head to bury into his pillow but he catches your chin, turning you not-so-gently to bring your eyes back to him.
His smile is gone, replaced by a stern, hard look that does nothing to help the mess between your legs.
“Eyes on me,” he tells you, right before he passes two of his fingers through your slick folds.
The feeling it sends through you feels all the more intense than it normally would from something so simple.
You gasp, body jerking under your binds when his fingers swipe through again to gather your slick. When your head tries to fall back, his grip on you tightens to bring your rolling eyes back onto him.
That hard expression stays on his face as he watches you intently, taking in every shift in your expression.
“Colour.”
It takes you a second to process but you whimper out an emphatic, “Green.”
He hums, then uses his slick covered fingers to start circling your clit.
Your body trembles under the sensation, short moans leaving your lips but you don’t make the mistake of trying to look away from him again.
He lets go of your chin, opting instead to hold up your thigh when your legs try to close.
“You’re dripping so much already,” he says with a small smirk, eyes shifting back down to your twitching cunt. “Just from being tied up?”
You whine, starting to writhe as his fingers pick up the pace, flicking rapidly against your throbbing nub. “Can’t—nngh—help it.”
“Of course you can’t.” He laughs, short and low. “Keep your legs apart.”
You don’t get much time to process the order before he lets go of your thigh, his hands shifting so the thumb of his left finds its way to your clit while the middle of his right starts teasing at your entrance.
Your legs move to close at the sudden onslaught of simulation but one of his hands comes down on your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has you yelping, a stinging sensation left lingering on that sensitive skin.
“What did I say?” He snaps at you and you whimper, forcing your legs open, struggling to keep your bleary eyes open and on him. “Good.” His hands move back to your cunt but they remain still. “Colour?”
You swallow. Your entire body trembles but it’s nothing if not excitement and anticipation for more.
“Green,” you breathe and his fingers spur back to life, thumb circling your clit in quick, tight circles as his finger starts pushing into your hole.
You don’t bother trying to stifle the whines and gasps that tumble from your lips, knowing he’d probably reprimand you if you tried.
Your body lies taut under the ropes, twitching and writhing uselessly. It’s just like you wanted; you’re left pliant for him to use however he likes.
His finger sheathes fully inside of you, staying pushed in for a moment before he starts to slowly fuck it in and out. The filthy sounds from how slick you are makes you want to turn and hide and close your legs, but you don’t.
You stay good, keeping yourself open for him as he fingers you towards your climax with an almost clinical focus with his eyes latched onto the way your pussy swallows him in.
“Fucking gushing around me,” he mutters, slowing his fingers down just to watch how your slick gathers at the base of his knuckles.
Then he pulls out and instead pushes two of his long fingers all the way in.
You moan, head rolling back, but he doesn’t reprimand you this time, too focused on fucking you with his fingers. He doesn’t stop this time, working his way up to eventually push three fingers into you.
The stretch is mind-numbingly good, better than anything you’ve been able to do to yourself and far better than anyone else has ever done for you.
Maybe it's the situation. Maybe it’s the position he has you in. But whatever it is, it drives you to your climax faster than normal.
You clench around his fingers, and he sees it in the way that you flutter around each thrust that you’re close.
“Close already?” He asks with a crooked grin, seeming all too pleased with himself. “I just got started.”
You whine, hips jerking under him when his thumb presses into your clit. “S-Seob, please, don’t stop, ‘m gonna…”
Your words give way to high, frantic whines as he pushes you right to the edge.
Only to pull away as soon as you were about to tip off.
You cry out in frustration when the warmth of his fingers pull away and you’re left empty and pulsing around nothing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at you with a smile that is anything but warm. “Did you think you were at liberty to tell me what to do?”
Your veins run cold at the sudden shift in his tone. It’s icy, just like his gaze as he looks down at you. It’s rampant with a hunger of his own, but it’s a hunger to see you ruined than to fuck you the way you want.
He clicks his tongue. “Guess you do need to be taught a thing or two.”
Before you know it, you’re on your knees. He uses the robes to grab and move you, pushing your face down into your pillow with one hand on the rope between your shoulders while the other drags your hips up.
He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, at the sight of you being presented to him like this.
“You were made to be put like this, weren’t you?” He coos, large hand cupping your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
He hooks his fingers under one of the ropes framing your cunt, tugging at it to pull you flush against the hard ridge of his boner through his slacks. He grinds forward with a breathy groan, pushing him further into you.
“Feel that?”
You whimper, rolling your hips back for more of that pressure but he only pulls back with a chuckle.
“You’re a needy thing,” you hear him mumble, followed by the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone.
You wait with bated breath as you listen to the shuffle of clothes, aching more and more with each second that goes by that your needy cunt goes neglected.
“Seob,” you whine when nothing still happens.
“Thought you wanted to be a good girl, hm? Good girls are patient.”
You let out a frustrated breath that borders on a sob, turning to bury your face further into his pillow as you lay there, waiting.
Until you feel the blunt head of his cock press right against your clit.
You bristle, but his hands bear down on your hips to hold you still as he clicks his tongue. “You’re flighty. Colour?”
“Green,” you muffle out, not even bothering to hide the desperate tone in your voice.
He chuckles at it, starting to guide his cock through the slick mess of your folds though not yet sating your ache to be filled.
But you don’t dare make a peep about it, afraid that he would just string it out even longer if you did.
So you just take it as he traces his tip through every crevice of your cunt, pushing against your entrance just to pull away and guide himself down to your clit, circling you there, then gliding all the way back up to the base before repeating it in a torturous routine.
It’s a mind reeling game that leaves you panting and quivering and dripping for five, ten, however many minutes as he just teases you like this.
It doesn’t matter that he’s desperate to sink his aching cock into the warm, velvety walls that are literally weeping for him. He needs to know that you understand just how this works.
When it seems that you do, when you’re just whining mindlessly and drooling into his pillow and just taking his teasing with no complaints, he finally gives in.
He presses in, just until the tip, and pauses, watching as your pliant body seems to liven back up under the stretch, bristling under the binds.
You whimper his name so softly, but that’s all that comes. No begging for more, no trying to fuck yourself back on to him. Just simple reaction to whatever he’s giving you, with no other choice but to just take it.
“Good girl,” he breathes, manic at the prospect of breaking you in so easily, before he lets himself sink all the way in.
You moan, loud and broken at the feeling of finally being stretched to the brim.
There’s no more waiting. He starts fucking you with intent, holding on to the knots keeping your arms together as he drives his cock into you at a steady pace.
He’s long and curved perfectly to brush against that sweet spot in you with each precise thrust, pushing you closer to your lost climax quicker than you could’ve hoped for.
You lay there and take it, sobbing his name into the pillow as you take every bit of overwhelming pleasure.
He breathes your name, quiet and reverent as he fucks you at a relentless pace. “So good,” he gasps, his free hand coming around to tweak at your nipple, his pace never once wavering. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?”
“Good,” your mumble and he has to strain to hear your muffled, fucked out voice. “F’r you.”
It makes him manic.
His cock pulses inside your gummy walls and he curses, his pace starting to falter. “Fuck, pretty, ‘m gonna cum,” he breathes. He’s about to pull out, picturing the image of his cum trickling against your back, a stark colour against the black ropes, when your voice cuts in.
“In me…” You muffle through your sobs. “Seob—in me…”
And fuck, who is he to deny a pretty beggar?
He groans, plastering himself to your back, both hands clutching onto your tits as he drives his cock into you with a renewed force.
“Cum with me,” he breathes into your hair, and it’s enough to have you pulsing around him, enough to have him spilling inside of you.
He collapses from the effort, grunting as he milks every bit of himself into you, arms coming down to wrap around your waist as he rocks you both through the high.
The moment stills, a tangle of breathless bodies and heated air.
He wants to just lay there and bask in the afterglow, but he knows he has work to do, especially when he feels you go limp in his arms.
Slowly, he pulls out, hissing from the sensitivity before laying you on your side and lifting off of you.
But as soon as he detaches from you, you bristle with a whine, eyes going wide and panicked as they search for him through the blur.
“Seob? No, don’t,” you whimper, reaching out to clutch at him.
Oh, you’re gone.
He immediately lowers himself down, tucking his body over you and brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. “I’m right here, pretty. Not going anywhere. Just gonna get these ropes off of you, okay?”
It takes a moment for the words to process, but when they do, he goes to work, making sure to stay as physically connected to you as possible even if it is just a clumsy press of bodies.
The ropes come off of you one by one, and he drops them to the floor without care. It doesn’t even bother him that he’ll have to wash them again today.
He soothes his hands over your arms when he gets them free, almost mourning having to undo all his work—you looked so pretty under all of it—but he hopes he’ll get to keep his picture at least.
Actually, he hopes he’ll get to have you like this again. But that’s a worry for after, because you’re starting to doze off already and he can’t have that just yet.
Once you’re free of the ropes, he gently tugs your body to lay on your back, the movement shaking you awake.
“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” he says, watching you blink your eyes open for him. “Good, just like that.”
He smiles fondly when you drop your face into his chest, scratching into your hair affectionately before he reaches over you for the wet wipes he keeps at his bedside.
Cleaning you up is a bit of a task when you keep flinching away and swatting at him but once it’s done, he tucks you against his chest and under the blanket.
“You’re a freak.”
Okay, maybe you’re not that under.
“Oh yeah?” He asks with a cocky grin. “You seemed to like it though.”
You lift your head to glare at him, your previous daze seeming faraway. “I’m sorry, has anyone not liked that?”
He shrugs. “Some don’t.” He doesn’t know what to make of the slow blink you give him. “What?”
“You’re a slut,” you say simply.
He laughs, knowing you well enough to know it’s not malicious. A little judgemental, maybe, but he’s judged you about your sex life before so he’s not one to speak.
“I suppose I am,” he says sheepishly, dropping his head back to look up at the ceiling.
“…What’s with the cuddling?”
“Aftercare.”
“Ah.”
“Hate it?”
You shuffle further into his arms and he takes that as your silent answer. He holds you close, relishing in your warm skin against his.
After another silent moment, his eyes drift over to the Polaroid that waits at his bedside table. He itches to reach over and take a peak. But he won’t until—
“You can keep the picture,” you tell him, like you’re reading his mind. “But you show it to anyone and I’m telling Shota his best friend is a huge freak.”
“Shota?” Jongseob snorts. “Who the hell do you think got me into this in the first place?”
There’s silence. Then you bristle, pushing yourself off of him to sit up and stare down at him with wide eyes. “What?”
“Honour code,” he says cheekily, pretending to zip his lips shut. “Freaks don’t divulge each other's freak practices.”
You drop back down beside him with an exasperated sigh. You shouldn’t be that surprised. “Do I even want to know?”
He hums, chewing on his lip as a distant thought forms in his head. “Maybe another time.”
Jungwon is all porcelain skin and baby pink flush. The same flush that used to spread across his cheeks whenever you would lean too close during some talked-over movie, or when you'd catch him staring after you as you walked the short distance back to your house, just a door away.
He's exactly like you remember, as perfect as those long-lost summers spent splashing in his pool and dancing under the cover of moonlight. But now, he's also so much more. All sinewy muscles and sharp lines, sharp teeth, and even sharper smiles. So perfect under you, so big.
pairings: jungwon x femreader
word count: 5.6k
warnings/tags: smut (mdni), plot with porn, best friend's younger brother, corruption, role reversal, switch jungwon, mean dom jungwon, subspace, mindbreak, rough sex, unprotected sex (not advised)
authors note: this is based off of how like, almost condescending jw gets when he baby talks lol, at least I get that vibe, he's kinda mean about it, or maybe that's the voices in my head talking. either way... umm. yeah.
works based off this one: take me
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Yeah, I've found somewhere to work. I mean, the hours aren't the best, but that's understandable. And it's close enough that I won't have to move, I can just stay at the house.” You ramble. You know you should keep your mouth shut; innocent blabbering can very rapidly turn into something a million times more dangerous, especially with alcohol in your system to loosen your tongue. But you can’t help it.
Jungwon is pressed up against the metal railing of the upper balcony, staring you down as you chat up an acquaintance of someone's. Your mothers, or his mothers, or maybe even someone who knew your dad. Either way, it's maddening, making your heart race and your palms break out in a cold sweat that has absolutely nothing to do with the way this acquaintance is leaning closer and closer. A friendly glint to his eyes at harsh opposition to the unfriendly way he inches towards you.
And Jungwon is watching it all happen, his delicate jaw clenched sharp enough to cut, twitching — ever so slightly — when this ‘acquaintance’ you've forgotten the name of slides a rough palm up the side of your arm.
You haven't said one word to Jungwon since the party started. But he's never been far. A protective shadow cast in all the dim overhead lights. You don't need his protection; that's not how this works. He's the younger one; if anything, you should be protecting him. Ironic, given your history.
“You're not telling me you live alone, are you? In that massive house. A pretty girl like you needs someone to keep her safe and warm. Especially when the nights turn cold. Nothing beats the heat of another person, sweetcakes. If you catch my drift.”
You fight down the urge to gag, plastering a placid grin on your face. Hoping that eventually he'll get the hint and back the fuck off. But then you feel it, a soft brush. barely noticeable if it weren't for the lighting coursing through your veins at Jungwon's incessant watching. (Not moving, not speaking, not intervening, watching.) Because this acquaintance just brushed against your breast, a lurid glint to his eyes as he stared you down. Itching to see how you would react.
“I can keep you company.”
You're made brutally aware of your surroundings. The party is raging beneath your feet. But here, on this balcony, there's no one but you, this man, and Jungwon to heat the cold maritime air. He gets braver, dismissing Jungwon as some unbothered voyeur, moving to palm your breast, suddenly turned confident by Jungwon's lack of action.
You whisper, so quiet you can't be sure he even hears. “Jungwon.”
“That's not my name, sugar, but if you want. It could be. I can be anyone you want–”
A strong hand clasps around his wrist before he makes contact with your goose-pimpled skin.
“Hey,” he starts, voice rising dangerously.
But then he freezes.
Jungwon leans into the light, recognition flickers across your assailant's face before it contorts into a scowl. “What?” he demands.
“She's uncomfortable.”
“She can speak for herself, isn’t that right, sugar? Tell the nice man to go away, then you and I can have some–” he reaches down, palming the swell of your ass obscenely– "fun.”
It happens so fast, one moment, he’s all over you, panting lewdly into your ear as he claws into the soft flesh of your ass. Next, he’s on the floor, cradling his cheekbone.
The man staggers to his feet, inhaling sharply. “The fuck is your problem?”
“Get out,” Jungwon warns, low and chilling to the bone. He presses forward, separating you from the man with his body.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the man screams. “Don’t you know who I am?”
Jungwon steps forward again.
“All this over some whore,” he splutters. “You're as dumb as she is. I don’t get what your fucking problem is. She wanted this.”
“Get the fuck out,” Jungwon snaps, voice dangerously tense. His body coils tighter and tighter, his hands clenching into fists at his side, like he’s fighting himself to keep them down. You can’t look away. Since when has Jungwon been this big, this intimidating?
“Why should I?” the man lurches, fisting his hands into Jungwon’s collar and yanking him towards him. “Who even are you?”
Jungwon doesn't blink; just drags a hand down his face before bending to meet his eyes. “I’m Yang Jungwon. This is my fucking house, my alcohol you've been drinking, my father's company you work for, and that–” he nudges his head backwards. “That woman, not,” he shoves the man harshly, “whore. She’s mine.”
The guy gapes at Jungwon, stumbling. “I’m… I didn’t know…”
“Get the fuck out,” Jungwon says. “Before you lose more than just your job.”
The man is already gone, the balcony door slamming shut behind him, the only sound made for what feels like hours.
Jungwon turns to you, his mouth open like an apology is already waiting, sitting on the tip of his tongue.
You shake your head, too deep for common sense to win the battle waging on inside you. Your hands find his collar before he can even blink. Jungwon gulps, his adams apple pressing stark in your line of sight. You don't think, just take, as you crash your mouth to his.
Fuck…
The whole world stills, the blaring beat of the bass dampening as Jungwon moulds his mouth to yours, kissing you deep and hard. Every press of his mouth, more desperate, more punishing, echoes those two words you didn't know you had been waiting to hear.
She's mine.
Jungwon tastes like home, like sugar from the rim of one of his mother's signature cocktails, like summer mornings walking along the beach, and nights camped round the fire always roaring in his backyard. Tears flood your waterline. He tastes like your ruin.
Your back meets cool metal, your waist sparking when one of Jungwon's hands finds the tender skin. He’s crowding over you, kissing into you with a passion, a fire stoked by the screaming winds that have your head reeling, your hair flailing over the balcony's edge when he breaks away to press his warm mouth to your throbbing pulse point.
It's like he can't stay away, a truth echoed in the years you've spent orbiting around each other, never daring to inch that little bit closer, until now, until his teeth clatter painfully against yours, and you choke down the triumph brimming, threatening to boil over inside you at the reminder of his inexperience.
You break away, your eyes overcast with something you never should have let fester when Jungwon blinks down at you, tender and sweet, his pupils blown wide enough to reflect the stars shining above you, or the lights twinkling beneath you. He’s yours, yours to ruin, yours to love, finally. After all these years.
“Are you still sleeping in your old bedroom?” You muster, your voice shaky.
Jungwon nods.
You hold out your hand, and Jungwon takes it. Pulling you softly towards the small door, nestled into a far corner of the terrace. Nothing has ever felt more right.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
You would have complained, would have made a scene with literally anyone else if they had taken this long to put the damn thing inside you.
But you've always had a soft spot for Jungwon, and when he stared up at you with those big doe eyes of his, begging to stretch you open with his fingers for what felt like hours. You just didn't have the heart to tell him no. And you'll never admit it to him, but Jungwon was right.
It's worth it, though. The blissed out look on Jungwon's face as he inches forward, his grip on your waist tightening possessively as he sinks his cock deeper inside. An incoherent stream of half words, half whimpers falling from his mouth each centimetre he gets closer and closer to giving you everything you've ever wanted.
Even though it feels like you might tear apart any moment now. It's still so fucking perfect. You shouldn't let him know how much it hurts. But you can't help it, Jungwon’s too fucking big, what else are you supposed to do but let out a sharp, tear-jerking cry when he finally bottoms out.
Jungwon freezes, eyes snapping to you face, leaving behind the view he was worshipping so intently just moments before. The view of your cunt stretching obscenely as he sank each inch deeper and deeper inside.
“Shit,” Jungwon whines. “I'm hurting you." But he doesn't move, just shifts his weight so he's face to face, mouth to mouth with you. You hate the sharp jolt of arousal echoing in your core as you take in how undone he looks, lording over you like this, the muscles in his arms tense, almost slipping out from under him.
“Jungwon….” You grit out, your mind split between the sensation of him, heavy, filling you better than anyone else ever has, and your baby’s current state of distress. “Baby, calm down, and just…fuck me. Okay. I'm okay. Don't worry, baby. I'm all good,” you reassure the younger boy. The more you clench, the more alarmed he's gonna be. So you smooth his hair away from his brow and fight hard to keep your muscles lax.
But Jungwon doesn't move, just stares.
“I can't do it, Noona,” he says. “I'm gonna hurt you.”
You sigh, biting your lip when you tighten around him without thinking. “Noona-” Jungwon moans, like he's pleading with you not to move.
Leave it to Jungwon to find a way to become even more endearing than he already is, even if he’s balls deep inside you. You might have found it cute, but you're too busy choking down the guilt crawling around inside your chest. You need Jungwon to shut up and fuck you stupid. Scramble your brain so good you'll never have time to think about how wrong this is.
(No matter how right it feels.)
What kind of a shitty person are you for fucking you best friend's kid brother? Not even that, for taking your best friend's kid brother's virginity.
“Jungwon,” you sigh with frustration. “This is what I get for fucking you,” you mumble. “Bloody karmic retribution or something, isn’t it?”
“Hey,” Jungwon whines. “I'm right here. I can hear you, Noona. I don't… I just don't wanna hurt you.”
Jungwon looks at you like a wounded puppy, eyes glistening with tears (or want, you can't really tell). And, the final nail in you coffin? He lets out a bruised whimper, hips stuttering sharply when he seems to remember where he is. You can tell he's struggling. His jaw is clenched. His hips rutting against your pelvis. Short burst tremors that have his tip kissing that perfectly vulnerable spot deep inside you. Every jolt of his hips has your head spinning, and Jungwon knows it, feels you tighten up around him like a vice. All it does apparently is push him closer to actually fucking crying.
Fuck, this really won't do. You have to do something.
“I know, baby,” you coo. “You know what? Let's try this another way. Okay?” You smile up at Jungwon, lifting your hands gently before twisting him onto his back.
Jungwon doesn't object, just lets you pull away with a small whine, already missing the feeling of his cock filling you.
You push him up against the headrest. You're not gonna lie, some part of you changed positions for more selfish reasons. As much as you want Jungwon to fuck you (you want it bad) and as much as you want to soothe his anxiety, ease his mind, show him he could never hurt you.
You mainly wanted to see him like this.
Jungwon is all porcelain skin and baby pink flush. The same flush that used to spread across his cheeks whenever you would lean too close during some talked over movie, or when you'd catch him staring after you as you walked the short distance back to your house, just a door away.
He's exactly like you remember, as perfect as those long-lost summers spent splashing in his pool and dancing under the cover of moonlight. But now, he's also so much more. All sinewy muscles and sharp lines, sharp teeth, and even sharper smiles. So perfect under you, so big.
Literally.
You reach a hand for his cock, he's fucking soaked and stupidly pretty, covered in a taunting mix of your slick and his own precome. Jungwon moans above you, hips stuttering forward into your hand as you work it up and down his length.
“You like this, don't you?” you tease, eyes stapled to the sharp peek of Jungwon's canines as they bite down into his bottom lip. Your thumb teasing deliciously into his slit.
“Mhmm.” Jungwon shudders, the back of his head colliding with his headboard. You want so badly to mark him up, paint him pink and purple, all yours. “Obviously,” he groans.
All of a sudden, you have the urge to ask something dumb. You don't know where you pull the confidence from (you do, from hell) but you give into it without a second thought.
“Have you ever…” you start off slowly, as you lift your free hand to join the first. You don't finish the sentence, too busy clenching your thighs together as you make sense of the sight before you. Two hands, you have two fucking hands around his cock, and there's still inches of him left over.
Oh fuck.
Danger, this is dangerous territory you're headed into, but you ignore the alarm bells going off in your head. You suppose you've already done bad enough just by being here; how much worse could it really get?
Jungwon looks down at you with a smirk, an animalistic hunger in his eyes at complete contrast to his baby face (the last bit of innocence left to his body not yet stolen away by time).
“Have I ever what, Noona? Say it.”
You're too busy watching Jungwon's cock, watching it slide in and out of your grip, so perfect. You barely register the switch, the sharp sting to his once soft and tentative words.
Your mouth opens without thinking. Almost like your entire body races to do as Jungwon says, tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “Do you ever think about me? Like this, when you touch yourself?”
Jungwon leans in close, warm breath dancing over your lips as he whispers slowly, voice dropping an octave, “Always.”
You shiver, the weight of that one singular word singing across your spine like a bullet. Carving you open, paralysing you.
But then you blink and the moment passes, Jungwon drops backwards with a thud, smiling at you so softly it's almost as if you hallucinated the last 2 minutes.
You shake your head. This is Jungwon. Your Jungwon, your baby, what are you thinking? He’s not like that, mean and assertive like that, is he? He's not. You know he isn't. There's no way, only in your wildest fantasies has he ever looked at you like that.
Your past needs to be buried, as does that version of him. God, what are you even doing here? You have no right. No fucking right to touch him like this, not after all youv’e done.
You never should have come back home; you should have fought harder, fought and fought with that constant stream of impatient whines filling your head every day you inched closer and closer to graduation.
You can't be here, You’re all wrong. You’re ruining him. Staining him black and blue, bruising up his soul with every sharp twist of your fist. Because now that you have him, now you finally have him for real. He's never gonna want anyone else; You won't let him. He belongs to you.
You lift in a daze, thighs parting as you seat youself in Jungwon's lap. Exactly like you’ve imagined so many times before.
All of a sudden, it's like nothing else matters, nothing but this moment, because this Jungwon, eyes blown wide and glimmering with soft fire as he watches you tease his cock into your awaiting hole, he's the Jungwon you’ve been waiting for.
Except now you’re done with all the waiting, all those charged glances, all those wordless promises. You’re done, now you’re going to take, and take, and take. Until the only thing Jungwon will ever think of, the only person he sees when he reaches that sweet release, is you.
You start of gentle, fucking youself onto his cock in short little bursts, taking a little more inside with each downward pass. The stretch is a little bitch, you’ve never had someone as big as Jungwon before, and you’re not even sure you can take him. You might split open before he even sinks in halfway.
But you do it. Back arched, nails digging into his thighs, muscular and lithe instead of soft and plush like yours. God, the difference between your bodies, the contrast, the way his shadow looms over you. So big. You have half a mind not to pull off, pull him into you arms and hug him tight. Tight enough he shrinks back into the little devil you tutored so many moons ago.
But you can't do any of that, you’re completely mute. Wordless at the sheer agony, the pleasure riding along your flaccid limbs as you gently start to rock youself in a slow rhythm.
Jungwon's fingers find your clit. Those long digits of his pressing so perfectly against you. All hell breaks loose. You can't contain youself anymore, any attempts at normality, the cool level-headedness you tried to keep falls away from you in waves.
You’re crying out, moaning and writhing in Jungwon's tender hold. As your legs shake.
Not that he's doing any better. But something is brewing under his eyes, something sinister, and the noises he's making. God, those noises. They used to be pretty and whiny, borderline almost high-pitched. But now they've dropped to the underworld. Low and guttural as he stares down at your pussy, at the white ring of slick coating the base of his cock as you fuck youself so prettily.
No, that's not where his eyes are locked, you realise with bated breath. It's higher. Up and up, and up. To the obscene bulge in your soft lower abdomen. The visible proof of his cock, pulsing inside you. Fucking in and out. down then up, again and again and again.
The moan you let out at the sight is downright pornographic. And Jungwon… Jungwon snaps.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He reaches forward. Lifting his hand from your dripping sex and pressing it firmly into your abdomen. “Fuck,” he groans. “Look at you. Taking my cock so well.” He lets out a satisfied noise, one that has your blood curdling before he plants his feet on the bed, nails digging into your hipbone as he all but crashes into you, thrusting upwards desperately as he teases his fingers along the proof of his conquest. His prize.
You gasp, something broken as he fucks into you so rough. Jungwon feels the bulge in your stomach, the skin stretching and relaxing every sharp snap of his hips. For a little while you’re dazed, letting Jungwon use you like a fucking doll (his doll, all his), but after a minute, you pull you hands from behind you, plant your small palms on his chest, and start to match his rhythm.
And god was it everything he dreamt of. You’re so small like this, so beautiful. His Noona, finally where you belong, head lolling back, face strewn with unspeakable pleasure as you bounce on his cock. Mirroring his brutal pace with every sharp drop of your hips.
Jungwon started, and now he just can't stop. All he's ever wanted to say to you, every dirty depraved fantasy he's had of you from before he even became a man, before he became someone who could treat you like you deserve. They all come spewing out. Like the dams burst, and there's nothing to stop his filth from flooding this room.
“So perfect, so fucking tight. Wanted to fuck you stupid like this for so long.”
You nod.
“And here you are, dumb on my cock, fucking yourself so messily cause you just can't get enough, can you?”
“Uh-huh,” you whine. “Jungwon… Jungwon please…”
“You like this, don't you?” Jungwon teases, mocking your cute attempt to baby him earlier. God, it's been so fucking satisfying, watching the light shift in your eyes as you slowly came to terms with the harsh reality. Jungwon wasn't sixteen anymore, with his hands stuffed under his swim shorts, fingers sticky and wet as he imagined pinning you down, fucking into your tight heat as you screamed his name like you were born to do.
“Bet you didn't expect this, did you, Noona?” he smirks. “I'm not a baby anymore, you should have known better than to think I would just sit back and let you have your fun.”
He was a man now, someone who was capable of loving you like you deserve, fucking you like the little slut you are, the cock hungry brat who all but begged with your eyes, moaning under your breath every time he pressed too close, every time he brushed against you ‘innocently’ this past week. Letting you feel out what he's become. Feel the man he's molded himself into. All for you. For the day you came crawling back to him.
And crawl you have.
“That's not how this works. You're mine. You don't get to decide, you don't get to make demands, you don't even get to cum. Not until I tell you to, not until you beg.”
You’re gone, legs locking up, mouth trembling, the barest glint of saliva dribbling down your chin as Jungwon grasps your hips with both hands, moaning under his breath as he watches your small frame dwarf under the size of his hands.
“‘Have I ever thought about you?’, ‘Do I touch myself thinking about you?’ Gods, you're so pathetic, Noona. What did you expect me to say? No?”
You shake you head, dazed.
Jungwon snaps; he lurches forward. Flipping you onto you back, he doesn't waste a single second, pulling all the way out, you clench around him so tight he almost sees white, begging him not to leave, before he thrusts back in, hard. You make a delicious noise, half moan, half scream, your body jostling just that little bit further up the bed with each punishing drill of his hips.
It's fucking sick, so wrong and lewd, but Jungwon has never loved anything more. For a little while, you both stay silent, only the slick sounds of him carving himself deeper and deeper inside his girl, the wet slap of his hips against yours filling the room.
Fuck, everything smells like sex and you and filth. His entire bedroom is coated in a thin sheen of your brilliance as you arch into him, your legs locking, heels digging into the small of his back.
You’re getting close, he can tell. So he slows. Forcing himself to hold back.
You’re reaction is immediate; you whine like he stole something from you, your fingernails clawing deep, carving shallow crescents into the taught muscles of his shoulders.Jungwon noses along your neck, teasing the sensitive skin, and you do cry then, frail and flimsy when he angles his hips that little bit askew, missing that tender spot he's already mapped to memory by a fraction.
He can't let you cum, not yet; you don’t deserve it.
“Poor baby,” he coos. “You don't like that do you? Can't take being teased?”
You’re coherent enough to form words, your eyes tearlogged and blown wide when he pulls away from your neck to take you in. Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous, everything he’s ever fucking wanted splayed out under him, your cheeks flushed, mouthing at your bottom lip like you’re tryna keep youself from saying something you shouldn't.
Jungwon can't recount the number of times he imagined this exact scenario. He spent more than one night peering into your window, past blinds you refused to shut, or past the never fully closed bathroom door you just had to leave open, just that little bit, all to fuck with his head that tiny bit more.
And now what? Now you couldn't take it? You spent years slowly, so fucking slowly chipping away at his restraint like it was the easiest thing in the world, easier than breathing. And now, Jungwon's gonna make sure you taste every ounce of agony he pent up.
“You think I didn't hear you? How desperate you were back then, 18 years old, fucking yourself open, Desperate to stop me from hearing how dirty you were, how fucking filthy you got when you moaned my name.”
You tense like he struck you, your eyes blown wide, mouth agape around words he doesn’t let you speak.
“You wanted me to see you. You can pretend, you can fake innocence, Noona. But I know you.”
You break, hot tears falling from your eyes like a waterfall. You shake. Your head turns this way and the other as Jungwon continues to thrust into you. Not stilling for a single moment.
“You would laugh at my jokes, stop by my lessons on your way to yours. Pack me lunches because you knew I hated the new school menu. You played your games, had your fun as though I couldn't see right through your window every night. As if I wasn't watching your show, your little performance every fucking time.”
You’re close, Jungwon can feel it in how you clench around him. Messy and desperate, forcing wet globs of slick onto his cock as he uses you like a doll, fucking into you as he damn well pleases.
“Then you left me. Not even a goodbye before you disappeared across the country.”
Jungwon freezes, right on the cusp of your release; he can taste it. He stays like that, skin to skin, hips to hips, your legs quivering, digging into his back like you could somehow get him deeper. “Jungwon… please, Jungwon. I'm close. Please, Jungwon, I wanna come. please.”
“No.”
“Please,” you sob. “I'm begging you, please. I need it so bad. Please, Jungwon. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm sorry for everything… all of it. I'll make it up to you. I swear. Just please, please–”
“Stop fucking crying and admit it. You're mine.”
You stare up at him, your eyes glistening.
He tries again, “Say it.”
You nod, defeat splintering your irises. “I'm yours.”
Nothing compares to the sheer rush of triumph that surges through his veins, he pulls out, ignoring your broken mewl of protest before his hands are firm around your waist, flipping you onto your stomach.
Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty like this, teardrops logged in your waterline, your face smushed against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as you arch back, lifting you hips unconsciously or consciously, he has no fucking clue. Either way. Jungwon wants, so he takes. Pushing the blunt head of his cock right against your weeping entrance, he loves this, loves watching you mould around him, feeling the resistance of your tight little cunt give way as he forces himself deeper inside.
It's pure undulated bliss, you still, your hips pushed so far back your spine might snap like a fucking bowstring, but Jungwon doesn't care, he only feels the rhythmic pulsing of your cunt fluttering around him, edging him on, pleading with him to move. He's sheathed to the hilt, pubic bone pressed flush to your ass, his hand dancing up that soft, delicate ridge in your back to meet the mess of dark brown hair painting his bedsheets.
“How many guys have you had like this?” he teases.
“I… they weren't you,” you cry. Broken in all ways, forever his to chip and scar. “Please, Jungwon, please. I'm yours, I've always been yours. No one else matters, I swear it.”
“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to make sure of that somehow, make you mine forever, is that what you want?”
You nod, the jerky movement travelling right along the curve of your spine and all the way to his ribcage, to his heart, nestled inside the ivory claws and beating to the rhythm of your name. “Use your words,” he seethes, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. Hard. “Say you want it, say you want me to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Please,” Youu manage to croak out, your voice trembling. And Jungwon is a giving man, he always has been, so he rolls his hips, pulling out the furthest he can, before sinking back in, slow, mean, making you feel the drag of his cock inside you, spearing you open, moulding you to his every inch as he nestles deep where he’s always belonged. You moan when he bottoms out, something so tender and loving that Jungwon presses on your cheek with his palm. You stare at him through his splayed out fingers. And Jungwon gives in one last time,
He fucks you hard. Not too fast, not too slow, just fucking right to have his bedframe jolting dangerously against the crystalline glass behind it. Just well enough to have your fingertips clawing into his bedsheets as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you, like the crashing tide splitting to pieces on the jagged rocks beneath his windowsill.
It’s a claiming of every kind, brutal and rough, like he’s always dreamed of taking you. You race towards your undoing, and Jungwon does nothing to halt you. Just leans over, his warm breath caressing your ear, and whispers, “Come.”
Your entire body locks up, your heartbeat racing so fast he can taste it as he mouths at your neck, warm and messy and fucked out cause you clench around him so hard Jungwon is sure he sees stars. It isn’t long before he tumbles over the edge too, spilling inside you for the first time from hundreds more. Jungwon deflates, boneless and spent. He buries his head in the little space between your neck and shoulder, kissing light and soft over sticky skin whilst you pant beneath him. Fuck, he just can’t help himself. He rocks his hips ever so slightly, groaning under his breath when he feels the slick mix of your cum ooze a little from your stuffed cunt.
You fucking love it, cause you gasp, breathelss and so fucking sweet that Jungwon just has to take that little bit more, worm his hand between silk sheets and supple skin till he’s dancing fast, tight circles around you clit.
“That’s it, Noona,” he coos. “That’s it, just one more. Gimme one more, then we’re done. Okay.”
You’re broken, overstimulated and spent to the brink of heaven and back that you just mewl. Soft and saccharine, perfect. He feels it before he knows it, the telltale rush of wetness gushing around his cock he just knows he’s fast become addicted to.
You stay like that for a while, Your delicate pants softening and smoothening till you slip into a light daze, toeing that line between alertness and sleep that makes him extra cautious as he pulls out for good. Careful not to rouse you from your shallow slumber.
He reaches blindly for his phone, sitting back on his heels and surveying the beauty before him. He thumbs at your entrance, just a little bit, just enough to feel his spent coat his finger, you’re fucked out, pretty hole already twitching like you’re begging him to slip inside again. But he can’t. He has to take care of you now; you’re his responsibility. Forever.
But that doesn’t stop him from snapping a couple of photos or from lingering by his nightstand on his way to the bathroom. His hand ghosting the top shelf, towards the little velvet box staring back at him.
Soon, he thinks. Not yet, but soon.
You’re awake when he makes it back to his bedroom, serene and stoic, sitting on the edge of his mattress, glowing in the soft light of the moon. If Jungwon could remember one moment forever, it would be this one, your hair falling over your breasts, his cum warming your womb, his marks littering your soft ivory skin.
“Baby,” you say, and Jungwon startles, leaning off the doorframe and stepping into his bedroom for good.
Jungwon can’t find the right words, the right things to say to you to cover the irreparable chasm he might have ripped between you for good.
“Where did you learn this?” You laugh. Jungwon shrugs, pulling his shirt over your head and pushing you back against the mattress.
“I said I was gonna be good for you, I meant it.”
“Yeah?” You quirk a brow, sighing when he wipes gently between your legs with a damp towel. Jungwon kisses beneath your belly button, over your clit, before he teases between your folds one last time, his tongue dancing just deep enough to taste before he moves back for good, pulling his shirt down and crawling into his bed behind you.
“I love you,” he whispers into the mere atoms between you. “Just in case I haven’t made that clear.”
A beat passes. “I love you too.”
“Even if I was really mean,” he asks, hoping you can't hear the agony beating at his heart, he never wants to hurt you, ever, he just. You just mean so much to him, and sometimes he just gets carried away.
You say something then, something he'll never forget. “Especially cause you were mean. I always knew you had it in you.”
❝ you were ready to leave everything behind? leave me behind? ❞
❝ i was ready to leave… but now i’m not so sure. you’ve changed things, jongseob. ❞
⋆༺𓆩♔𓆪༻⋆
♪ run boy run - woodkid
synopsis ── .✦
he’s a lonesome prince who can’t tell you what it’s like to be embraced by his family, always forgotten and brushed to the side. he doesn’t understand why being the youngest means being an afterthought.
you’re a swindler who’s found your way into the royal castle as preparations for the royal wedding commence. your only interest lies in how you can make an escape from your fruitless life with more than a few pennies to your name, even if it means swiping a few things from these rich snobs.
you’ve lived your days on the streets, stealing and clawing your way to survival but none of it could have prepared you to have your own heart stolen by the peculiar boy who lives in the castle. how are you supposed to make your great escape now when there’s finally something to tether you to this life?
SERIES MASTERLIST
a collaborative event by @jiuchip & @liliesonthego
here to spill my thoughts on a new version of anton i can't get out of my head these days...anton who shares the same friend group as you so you're always around him but you absolutely hate everything about him. the way he's so cocky about grabbing every woman's attention (especially older women🙄). the way he constantly flexes and shows off his muscles around you. he's always trying to get your attention but you won't give in to his little games. he also gets off on the fact that he's a lot taller and stronger than you. ugh just imagining the tension between you and the hot guy that you can't stand but he's just so fine your body feels the exact opposite from your mind and you hate it...but for anton that's literally his biggest advantage. #needthat actually🧎♀️
a : i HEAR YOU LOUD & CLEAR!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS ANTON SO MUCH. WE NEED TO START TALKING ABOUT TBIS.
he’s in your shared friend group so there’s no escaping him. every hangout, every group chat, every late-night karaoke or arcade run. he’s there. towering over everyone, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off those forearms, smirking every time he catches you looking (you’re not looking. you’re glaring. big difference).
he knows you hate him. or at least you say you do. hates how he’s always flexing when he knows you’re watching. stretching his arms over his head so his shirt rides up, happy trail on full display, abs flexing like he’s doing it by accident (he’s not). hates how older women literally lose their minds around him. giggling, touching his arm, calling him “such a handsome young man” while he smiles all sweet n polite but shoots you a smug little side-eye like “see? they can’t help it. wonder why you’re so stubborn.”
he gets off on the height difference so bad. stands way too close when you’re talking in a group, leans down to “hear you better” even though you’re speaking perfectly fine, towers over you when you’re grabbing drinks so you have to crane your neck to look at him. loves how you have to tilt your head back, how small your hands look when you shove at his chest (uselessly… he doesn’t budge an inch).
“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he drawls one night, voice low enough that only you hear it while everyone else is distracted. “you’re looking up at me like you wanna fight… or like you wanna get pinned down. which one is it tonight?”
your face burns. you hate him. hate how your thighs clench when he says shit like that. hate how your body reacts even though your brain is screaming “i want to strangle him.”
he knows. he always knows.
one night the group’s at a house party. music loud, lights low, everyone drunk n scattered. you’re in the kitchen grabbing water when he corners you. back against the counter, his arms caging you in on both sides. he’s so tall you can’t see around him. his chest is inches from yours, heat rolling off him, that stupid cocky smirk on his lips.
“still pretending you hate me?” he murmurs, leaning down until his mouth is right by your ear. “your body’s saying something else, baby. i can smell how wet you are from here.”
you try to shove him. he doesn’t move. just chuckles low n dark, grabs your wrist gently but firm, presses it to his chest so you feel how fast his heart is going.
“feel that? that’s what you do to me. every time you glare at me, every time you roll your eyes, every time you pretend you don’t want me to bend you over n fuck that attitude right out of you.”
your breath catches. you should slap him. should knee him. should scream for your friends.
instead you whisper “i hate you.”
he smiles wider. “yeah? then why are your nipples hard under that shirt? why are your thighs shaking? why haven’t you pushed me away yet?”
because you can’t. because some sick part of you loves how he towers over you, how he could pick you up n do whatever he wants, how he’s so much stronger n bigger n meaner than you’ll ever be.
he sees it in your eyes. the second you break.
next thing you know he’s got you in the upstairs bathroom, door locked, your back against the sink, skirt shoved up around your waist, panties yanked to the side. he’s on his knees. fucking on his knees. eating you out like he’s starved, tongue flat n messy, sucking your clit hard while two long fingers pump deep inside you.
you’re crying actual tears because it’s too good, too much, too fast. hands in his hair, thighs shaking around his head, trying to push him away n pull him closer at the same time.
“hate me now?” he mumbles against your pussy, voice muffled, chin dripping. “still hate me when i’m making you cum all over my face?”
you sob his name. half curse half plea. he doubles down. fingers curling faster, tongue flicking relentlessly until you’re gushing, squirting messy n hot while he groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
he stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirks down at you while you’re shaking n boneless against the sink.
“still hate me, sweetheart?”
you’re panting, teary, thighs trembling, but you nod weakly. “yes.”
he laughs. dark, fond, dangerous. pulls you close n kisses you hard so you taste yourself on his tongue.
“good. keep hating me. makes it hotter when i fuck you stupid anyway.”
and he does. right there. bends you over the sink, flips your skirt up, pushes your panties to the side again n slides in slow. lets you feel every thick inch stretching you open while he grips your hips hard enough to bruise.
“look at you,” he groans, watching your reflection in the mirror. tiny body folded over, taking him so deep your tummy bulges every thrust. “so small… so fucking tight… still hate me while you’re crying on my cock?”
you do. you hate him. hate how good he feels. hate how your pussy clenches around him like it never wants him to leave. hate how you cum again hard, screaming his name into your own arm while he fills you up deep with a low “that’s it… take it all… mine mine mine…”
after he pulls you into his chest. still buried inside. kisses your tear-streaked face soft n gentle now.
“hate me all you want baby,” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek. “you’re still gonna cum for me every time i want you to.”
cocky mean hot bastard anton who knows you hate him but also knows your body loves him more… he’s never gonna let you forget it :(((
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ pairing | jongseob x reader x soul ༉‧₊˚.
synopsis | all you wanted was some attention; you didn't think it would lead to you being your boyfriend's best friend's entertainment for the night
𓆩⟡𓆪 note || a continuation of my soulseob drabble from this but can be read as a standalone
“Can I join you?” You hear Soul ask through Jongseob’s headphones.
Your cunt flutters around Jongseob where he’s buried in your warm heat. If only Soul knew just what he was asking to join in on… That thought digs itself into your head and seeps through the dangerous parts of your brain. You bite down on your lip, dropping your head on Jongseob’s shoulder as you try to eradicate every lewd image that flashes through your mind.
Jongseob stills where he’s sat under you, his hand freezing where it was kneading down on your thigh. There’s a palpable silence as you feel his gaze burning down on you; you can practically feel him uncovering every thought in your head with just his eyes.
“Join me, huh?” You hear Jongseob mutter in a tone that you know promises danger.
You gasp sharply as his hand lifts from your thigh, his finger pressing against your throbbing clit. You squirm in his lap but he’s quick to hold you down with his other hand.
“Yes.” Soul’s icon flashes with the incoming audio, and you stare at the ring of light as it pulses, trying to ignore everything else. “What are you doing?”
Your composure breaks as a quiet whine slips through your lips when Jongseob’s finger starts to press tight circles around your clit. His lips press warmly against your ear as he whispers to you, “Tell me if you want to stop.”
You watch with wide eyes as his hand lifts from your waist and reaches around you to hover his cursor over the camera button.
You don’t stop him as he clicks the button.
The screen shifts and you’re met with the image of yourself perched on Jongseob, innocent enough. But then Jongseob is lifting your thighs up and rolling the chair back, and whatever Soul was starting to say trails off with a sharp breath when he sees the position you’ve got yourself in.
The way you’re displayed is lewd; panties pushed to the side to give way to where Jongseob is buried and stretching out your fluttering walls. It’s a little embarrassing how you’re already gushing around him, the slick pooling and nearly wetting his sweats that are haphazardly shoved down just enough to make way.
The sight makes you turn to bury your face in Jongseob’s neck, where you can feel it as he laughs at your timidness.
“Still want to join, Sho?” Jongseob says and you hear Soul’s shaky breath coming from the headphones lodged around Jongseob’s neck and under your head.
You feel a tremble shoot through your body when all you hear Soul say is a quiet, “She’s pretty.”
Jongseob presses his lips to your head, his hands hooking your legs over the armrests of the chair so you’re still kept on display.
“She is, isn’t she?” He hums in agreement as he pressed a hand over your naval, fingers brushing teasingly over the hem of your panties.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” Soul pipes up after a moment of quiet admiration, his voice already sounding affected even through the crackling audio of the discord call.
“It’s fine,” Jongseob says easily. “She likes the attention.”
The words go to your head and make it feel all stuffy with a heady need— the way they’re talking about you like you’re just a pretty little thing to be mused at. But you’re feeling a little restless with all the preamble; you’ve been kept warm on his cock for over a half hour already and you didn’t have much patience to start off with.
Jongseob hisses softly when your walls clamp down on him in a silent plea to get on with it. “She’s also a little impatient,” Jongseob scolds lightly before he pries off the headphones around his neck, letting your head fall unobstructed to his shoulder. “Take care of her for me, will you?”
You don’t get to wonder what he means by that before you feel him securing the headphones over your ears.
You lift your head, turning to give him a questioning look but he’s grabbing your chin and turning you to face the camera.
Soul’s voice wraps around your head like soft twine, beckoning your full attention to him. “Hi.”
You swallow down the little whine that nearly comes out. His voice has always been pleasing on your ears, musical but rough in a way that has you despising how quiet he tends to be.
“Hi,” you say— breathe, more like it. Your heart stutters when you feel Jongseob’s warm hands come down to hold your hips in place when you start to squirm again.
Soul giggles, a sound that has you warm all over. “He was right about you being needy all the time.”
Of course Jongseob would tell him about the intimate parts of your relationship. You’re not innocent of that crime either though, so you don’t question it.
Your lips pull down to a pout instead. “Well he’s been neglecting me for the past hour.” You yelp when Jongseob pinches the skin at your hip. “…Half hour,” you correct sheepishly.
Soul giggles again, and you’re pretty sure you can come from that sound alone. “I guess I’ll just have to help you out here,” he says. You can hear some shuffling from his end like rustling of clothes. “Wanna see your tits first though.”
Your cheeks burn at his direct words; it doesn’t take you by surprise that he doesn’t sugar coat them but you still weren’t prepared. Your hands reach to pull up your shirt but Soul immediately stops you.
“No,” he cuts in quickly and you freeze. “Have him do it.”
His cadence isn’t demanding in any sense, it’s as soft as it always is, but there’s a simmering command in the undertone. It’s starting to become clearer how similar he and your boyfriend really are, as different as they may appear on the outside.
You redirect and lift Jongseob’s hands from your hips to the hem of your shirt, and he understands the cue despite not being able to hear Soul. He lifts it up enough to expose your chest to the cold air, leaving it bunched up at your shoulders.
You hear Soul exhale shakily and your skin prickles at the knowledge of you being pried on. “You’re pretty everywhere,” he mutters, like it wasn’t necessarily meant for you to hear. “Make him play with them.”
The orders add fire to the flames burning between your legs, leaving you needier for anything to quell the ache. But you don’t argue, because as much as you’re craving for stimulation, this is a thrill you’ve never felt before and you’re not ready for it to end quickly.
You nudge Jongseob’s hands from your shoulders down and he needs no further direction to start kneading the soft mounds, not bothering to be gentle with you. He’s long learned you’d prefer him not to be.
You moan softly under the rough touch, your hands bracing on his wrists. Moans turn to soft whimpers as he starts thumb at your nipples, working them into stiff peaks that he tugs at.
Soul’s breaths are coming heavier from the other end. You start to picture him and what he might look like splayed out on his own chair and touching himself to the sight of you. But all you have to go off is his icon flashing with every sharp breath that makes its way through the line.
“Wanna see you, Sho,” you find yourself saying without further thought. You gasp sharply when Jongseob’s thumbs dig harshly into your nipples, but he makes no move to interrupt.
Soul makes a soft noise, something like a whimper. He doesn’t bother with a verbal response before the screen changes.
It goes black for a split second before you’re met with the image of Soul, leaning back on his chair with only his upper body visible and armed with his Pikachu headband around his head. His lips are parted with heavy breaths, his pale cheeks are flushed a pretty red, his round eyes are glued to his screen— to you. You can hear it more clearly now that you can see his arm moving— the quiet, slick sounds of skin on skin as his hand moves over himself just below screen.
The sight of him has you fluttering around Jongseob, who you feel twitching against you in response. His hands falter over your chest, opting to just stay pressed against you instead. You bite down on your lip to stifle your moan as you rock yourself down on his cock, desperate to feel something to soothe over your aching heat.
“Stop,” Soul interjects, and you can see the way his dark eyes flash with something heated as he says it.
Despite your craving for stimulation, you halt under his command.
“If you want to fuck him, do it properly,” he urges you, and you can see the movements of his arm slow down. “Get up on your knees, okay?”
It’s bizarre how the gentleness of his tone despite the sharp words turns you on. It’s becoming apparent to you that it’s not just Jongseob’s rough way of speaking to you that does it for you.
You take a slow breath as you drop your legs from the armrests, using your hands to brace on them instead as you prop yourself on your knees on either side of Jongseob’s thighs.
You whimper when Jongseob slips out of you from the movement but he’s quick to guide himself back into you while he uses his other hand to pull you back down to his lap. You grunt at the sharp impact, your body tensing when he rolls up into you, shoving his pulsing cock as deep as he can from that angle. The sharp pleasure has your head dropping back on his shoulder with a shuddered moan.
A strained laugh from Soul’s end has you looking back up at the screen to see a sly little smile on his lips. “You’re both needy,” he muses. His hand has stilled completely, his focus shifted to just watch you both.
“Sho, please,” you beg, your knuckles whitening on the armrests with restraint. “Need to come.”
He hums, eyes fluttering closed for a short moment as his arm reanimates, the slick sounds of him stroking himself audible again. “Go on, then. Take what you need from him.”
You let out a sharp breath of relief, using your hands to start lifting yourself up. “Thank you,” you mumble out of instinct, then slowly sink back down on Jongseob’s cock, letting out a shaky breath as he fills you up again.
“So well behaved,” Soul coos fondly as Jongseob’s hands bear down on your hips, not pushing, just holding as you slowly fuck yourself on him. “Feel good?”
Your eyes flutter closed as you start to lose yourself to the way every ridge of Jongseob grazes along your walls, the way he steadily pulses and twitches in you with every languid thrust.
“Y-Yeah,” you gasp, blinking your eyes open. You watch as Soul’s hand slows down to match the pace you’ve set, but it’s frustrating that you can’t actually see. “Sho… Mm, wanna see you.”
Soul’s breath hitches and you see his hand falter. But he’s quickly rolling himself back on the chair, just enough so that you can see him work himself, his face still in frame.
The sight has you clamping sharply down on Jongseob. His shorts are shoved to his mid thighs as he slowly strokes himself with a slick fist. He’s thick and hard in his grasp, leaking steadily with every stroke and flushed the same pretty red as his cheeks.
You can feel Jongseob twitch inside you, can feel the sharp breaths he takes by the rapid rise of his chest against your back. You get the sneaking suspicion that this ‘arrangement’ wasn’t only for you.
“So pretty, Sho,” you murmur, picking up the pace of your hips. The pleasure ebbs into a burning sensation that leaves you trembling after every thrust.
Just as you’d expected, Soul picks up the pace on his cock, his lips falling with short, quiet moans.
“Didn’t expect Jongseobie to be so noisy,” he says through laboured breaths.
You realize you haven’t been hearing a single thing from your boyfriend, thanks to his ridiculous noise-cancelling headphones, so you push one side of it back to catch the end of a soft whine when you sink fully down on him.
You settle on his lap, giggling a little through the haze of your lust. “He’s always noisy.”
Jongseob retaliates by thrusting up in a pointed grind that has him punching right into your g-spot.
You yelp at the sharp spike of pleasure, your body jolting up in his hold but his hands on you are tight enough to pull you right back down on his cock.
“Seobie,” Soul says, and your headphones are dislodged enough from your head to let the audio reach Jongseob. “I wanna see her cum on your cock.”
You feel yourself throb pathetically at the declaration.
“With pleasure,” Jongseob answers with a sly grin that you catch from the corner of the monitor where your camera feed is displayed.
Then he has one hand wrapped around your neck to keep you held back to his chest, the other one moving down to draw quick circles around your aching clit.
“Seob!” You gasp, your hands flying up to claw down on his forearm.
He’s relentless as he brings you down to your orgasm, your body strung up enough to reach it quickly with the rapid pleasure on your clit and the heady feeling of his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck.
You come while a cry of his name, your body thrashing through your climax.
You don’t get a chance to recover before he slips himself out of you and you’re being manhandled up to your feet and bent over his desk. Your hands scramble to find purchase as you feel him hastily tug your panties down before he’s bullying his way back into your sensitive cunt, ignoring the way you cry out at the burn as he starts to pound into you, his nails sharp as they dig into your hips.
You’re helpless to just take it, your fingers clawing into the wood of his desk, body bucking up with each rough thrust and wanton moans stumbling from your lips.
Your eyes are blurry from the overwhelming pleasure but you can still make out the screen. The camera captures the sight of you bent over and Jongseob fucking mindlessly into you as he chases his pleasure, shirt tucked up under his chin to keep everything visible for Soul.
Soul, whose face is twisted with pleasure, who’s working his cock in the same rapid pace as Jongseob is fucking into you with.
Jongseob’s hand reaches over to yank the wire of the headphones out of his PC, and Soul’s frantic breaths and whiney moans are out there in the air mixing with yours and Jongseob’s.
“Fuck,” Jongseob whispers, his hips faltering when he finally gets to hear Soul. He bears his hand on your head to keep you down, then starts to fuck into you again with a new vigour that has you already barreling towards your next orgasm.
Your eyes stay locked onto Soul’s image, the way he whispers your name in repeated tandem with the way he starts to fuck up into his fist, his nose scrunched as he fights to hold out.
But he breaks, and brings both you and Jongseob down with him. He comes with a sharp cry of your name, head thrown back, face twisted in bliss as his body writhes through his orgasm.
The sound of your name on his lips through broken moans has you falling again. You come for the second time with Soul’s name on your tongue this time, and that has Jongseob’s hips stutter as he drives desperately into you in frantic thrusts before he pushes all the way in and stills as he paints your walls with his release.
Your limbs fall loose as the high of your climax fades, numb to the way Jongseob remains buried and twitching in you. He’s quick to gather you in his arms before falling back into his chair, holding you against him.
“Shota,” he says through rough breaths as he reaches down to loop an arm under your leg, ignoring your questioning whimper as he lifts it.
Soul blinks his eyes open, clearing the haze to focus on Jongseob as he pulls himself out of you and pushes two fingers into your twitching folds.
The sharp hiss you make at the contact does nothing to deter him, neither does the way you scold his name. He shushes you quiet, pressing his lips to your cheek as he scissors his fingers open and lets his release leak out of you in a steady stream.
You would hide your face from the embarrassment of being pried apart like this, but you don’t want to look away from the look on Soul’s face as he watches with his mouth agape.
“Fuck,” he breathes as he starts to frantically fix himself up. “I’m coming over. Don’t move.”
Then the video feed cuts out as the call ends, and you’re left with a full screen view of Jongseob’s fingers in your messy cunt, creaming with your mixed arousals.
You turn your face into Jongseob’s neck to escape the image, groaning. “Put that away,” you grumble, wincing when you feel his fingers swiping at the arousal leaking out of you before pushing it back in your twitching folds.
“Hush.” He grabs your chin with his other hand, lifting your gaze to his teasing one. “Shota’s coming over. Don’t be acting up now.”
You scowl. “Or what?”
His eyes flash with something heavy and you have to fight to not wither under it.
“He may seem nice,” he trails off to peck your lips softly, a daunting contrast to the weight of his next words, “But he can be a lot worse than me if you provoke him. So behave.”
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𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works + works in progress
synopsis ── .✦
when crown prince choi taeyang gets betrothed to his childhood nemesis, preparations for the royal wedding commences— as does romance bloom in every corner of the kingdom (and beyond). but behind the poetry and petals lie deceit, hidden truths, forbidden love, and even death. with all cards stacked against them, will they overcome the trials they encounter or crumble to the crown?
༺𓆩 CHOI TAEYANG - THE CROWN'S CALLING 𓆪༻
♔ the crown prince and the begrudging bride - by @jiuchip
first prince of the choi kingdom x first princess!reader of the west kingdom (COMING SOON)
Absolutely insane, FILTHY, epic rough sex w jungwon pls🙏🙏🙏 can you throw in some choking and heavy risk of getting caught in there as well🫡🫡
Yang Jungwon. 18+. MDNI. Brother's best friend. Heeseung cameo. P in V. Unprotected Sex (DON'T!). Penetration. Choking. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Semi Public Play. Doggy Style. Risk of getting caught. Orgasm.
Jungwon barely makes it two steps into your house before he’s already looking for you, jaw tight, eyes sharp, shoulders tense in that way that tells you he’s been climbing the walls since the last time he had you. Your brother shouts something from upstairs, calling for him, and Jungwon shouts back, “Yeah, I’m here!”
But he’s already walking straight past the stairs, straight down the hallway, straight to the bathroom where he knows you always slip away when you hear him arrive.
The second the door clicks shut, he’s on you.
Your back hits the sink, his hand hits your throat.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he growls, low, furious in that way that always means he missed you. His thumb presses right under your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you hard, teeth, tongue, a week of pent-up frustration. “A week? You think I’m gonna survive a whole week without you?”
You’re barely able to answer, your breath stuttering because his grip tightens, not dangerous, but possessive, claiming, like he’s correcting your posture with just one hand. His other hand is already shoving your shorts down, cursing when he feels how warm you are.
“You’re already wet?” he laughs, but it’s not a nice laugh, it's a dark, breathless one, like he's the one being pushed to the edge just by touching you. “Yeah. Yeah, of course you are. Bet you were thinking about me every night I wasn’t here.”
He bends you over the sink, fast, rough, like he’s been waiting to do it since Monday. Your palms slap the cold countertop. He kicks your legs wider. Stands behind you, chest pressed to your back, breath hot on your ear.
Then, “Keep your voice down,” he murmurs, and his hand slides back to your throat, holding your head up so you’re forced to see him in the mirror. “If your brother hears you, I’m blaming you for it.”
He pushes into you in one hard, desperate thrust.
Your breath breaks. His grip tightens. The mirror fogs instantly with your gasp.
“Fuck! Jungwon—”
“Shh,” he warns, hips snapping into you again, harder, his free hand gripping your hip so tight you know you’ll see the bruises tomorrow. “You’re being loud already. I haven’t even started.”
He has started. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to make up for every hour he’s been away, fast, sharp, hips hitting the back of your thighs so hard you feel the sting. Every time you open your mouth to moan, his hand squeezes your throat just enough to shut the sound down.
“Look at you,” he pants in your ear, staring at your reflection. “Trying so hard to stay quiet. You’re gonna get us caught, aren’t you?”
Heeseung calls from down the hallway.
“Yo, Jungwon? You want something to drink?”
Jungwon doesn’t stop. He smiles. He keeps fucking you, rhythm steady, brutal, like he wants you to feel his answer.
He leans down, lips at your ear, voice a whisper no one else can hear, “Don’t you dare make a sound.”
You almost do when he slides his hand from your throat to your mouth, forcing your head back against his shoulder, holding you still while he pounds into you harder, deeper, punishing you for leaving him starved for a week.
Your eyes water. Your legs shake. His breath is ragged on your skin. And then he growls,“I’m not leaving this bathroom until you come on my cock.”
Your knees nearly give out. Because he means it. And he’s not slowing down. Jungwon goes still for one second when your brother’s voice carries down the hall.
“Hee’s here,” you whisper, panic in your voice.
Jungwon’s hand clamps over your mouth before you can say another word.
He leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice a razor’s edge:
“I know he’s here. That’s why I’m not stopping.”
He pulls his hips back and slams back into you so hard the sink shifts under your palms. You choke on a cry, muffled entirely by his hand. Jungwon watches you in the mirror as your eyes go wide.
“Look at you,” he breathes, fucking you deeper, slower, deliberately louder against your skin. “All scared because your big brother’s right outside. You shouldn’t like this.”
But you do. And he sees it. His fingers tighten over your mouth as he bends you further, pushing your spine into a bow so he can hit deeper.
“God, if Heeseung knew I had you like this…” Jungwon laughs softly, dark, breathless, the sound of a boy who knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but can’t stop. “He’d kill me. Actually kill me.”
He grinds in slowly, intentionally, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that makes your breath shake behind his palm.
“But you want me,” he whispers, lips to your neck, “more than you want to protect me.”
Your brother’s footsteps echo closer. Jungwon freezes only his hips, everything else stays exactly where it is.
Heeseung knocks on the door. “Hey, anyone in there?”
Jungwon’s hand flies from your mouth to your throat, forcing your head up, pinning you against the fogged mirror as he silently mouths:
“Don’t. Make. A. Sound.” Heeseung rattles the doorknob. “Hello?”
Jungwon stays buried inside you. You’re trembling so hard your knees almost buckle. He answers, voice perfectly calm, not even breathless:
“One sec, hyung! I’m washing my hands!” His hips move. He’s fucking you while talking to Heeseung.
Just small thrusts at first, slow, deep, obscene. His hand around your throat shakes from how hard he’s holding back.
Heeseung sighs. “Hurry up, dude.”
Jungwon’s lips curl into the slightest smirk against your cheek.
“Yes, hyung,” he calls out, and then he slams into you. Hard. Twice. Like he’s punishing you for existing.
You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood. When Heeseung finally walks away, Jungwon exhales, grabs your hips, and snarls: “You’re fucked.”
He bends you even lower over the sink and fucks you the way he’s been wanting to for a week, fast, brutal, filthy, hips snapping into you with loud, wet slaps that echo off the tile.
“I almost came from that,” he admits against your ear, breath shaking. “Your brother talking to me while I was inside you, fuck.”
Your legs give out. He pulls you up by the throat again.
“You’re not done.”
His thrusts get even rougher, punishing, each one lifting you onto your toes.
“You’re coming,” he growls, voice almost breaking, “and you’re doing it quiet. If Heeseung hears you, I’m fucking you again with the door unlocked.”
You fall apart on his cock so hard you nearly collapse, but he catches you, wraps his hand over your mouth, and keeps fucking you through it, whispering, “Good girl, good girl, fuck—just like that—”
He follows you seconds later, burying himself deep, holding you still while he comes inside you, teeth pressed to your shoulder to stop himself from making noise.
The sink is shaking. Your legs are shaking. His hands are shaking. And Heeseung is still in the hallway, completely unaware.
a/n: hi guys... wasn't gonna upload anything until kinktober but these pics drove me insane i HAD to write a mini about them... who's excited for: kinktober, bnd comeback, riwoo bday, leehan bday, and halloween? cuz i am! hehe i hope you guys like this <3
˗ˏˋ ꒰ MINI ꒱ ↳ contains: mechanic dom!sungho x stranded sub!reader, riding, penetration (p in v), praising
“there, that should fix it.”
“how can i repay you?”
this simple exchange led to the man named sungho holding your waist as you used the shoulders of the front seats to leverage yourself on him. he’d only helped you after noticing your broken down car in the middle of nowhere, and being the kind man he is, he offered to help fix it. who knew being a mechanic would be so handy even on his day off?
“so—” he groans, “—fucking good. bouncing like a prize.”
you’re just a whimpering mess as you look up to make eye contact with him through the rear-view mirror, which he’d adjusted before getting into the car. it’s safe to say that your ripped panties are ruined, cum stains getting on his dark pants as your mixed arousals splatter with each move.
he does nothing except praise you on, calling you pretty and repeatedly mentioning how you’re “taking my cock like a champ.” you don’t mean to blush at those words, but… he was too handsome to not let it all affect you.
riding him was the best way you could repay him for sorting out whatever was wrong with your engine, already long forgotten how long it takes for you to get to your destination. if this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, you’re glad that you took it.
thank you for reading! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms! want more? check out the masterlist! want to be notified when something drops? join taglist here!
Gabi, could you give me thoughts on stepbro!jungwon? Do you think he feels guilty for being such a pervert for his Lil sis? God, that makes me go insane
Pretty gabi, could i also ask if I could be 🦌 anon?
pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader
warnings: stepcest + panty sniffing / stealing + jw cums in his pants idk + masturbation
💌: hai sweetheart :3 ‘m sorry for getting to this so late!!! but of course u can be deer nonie <3 thank u for sending me this ask bcs i’ve been #yearning for My Sweet Cat lately. need him to Ruin Me.
to answer your question, i do think jungwon feels guilty for thinkin’ such terrible things about his sweet stepsister !!!! but when you’re prancing around the house in such tight fitting tops n flimsy little skirts, can you blame him?
it’s your fault that your stepbrother’s resorted to stealing your worn panties from the hamper before you have the chance to wash your clothes!! next time, don’t leave ‘em right on top of the pile n maybe he won’t! he definitely robs you multiple pairs because it’s sooo easy to take them.. he’s starting to think that you’re doing this on purpose.
he doesn’t make a move on you in the beginning though; jungwon simply snatches your cutest pairs n hurries back to his room, his private folder full of countless pervy pictures of you pulled up on his phone as he holds the most recent lacy thong he stole — still warm from being snug against your cute cunt all day — up to his nose, inhaling deeply, eyes rolled to the back of his skull.
there’s nothing he loves more than a fresh bunch of the fabric, the gusset damp with your juices, and thick with your scent.
jungwon rarely allows himself the pleasure of fucking his fist or using a pocket pussy, the guilt of cumming to pictures of you too strong to ignore. so instead, your stepbrother only lets himself sniff your panties, his tongue sometimes darting out from between his pretty, soft lips to lick the spot where your pussy rests, desperate moans and barely cutoff calls of your name fill his room; the one directly beside your own.
he always get a little empty headed when it comes to you, especially when his senses are overwhelmed with the rich smell of his sister’s pussy, his hips jerking as his orgasm hits, weak spurts of cum dribbling from his tip and dirtying his pants, still unsatisfied due to his personal rule of denying himself a helping hand.
little does your gross stepbrother know that in the next room, you’re touching yourself to his broken moans and the few cries of your name that do accidentally escape him, thoughts of him finally snapping and having his way with you, filling you to the brim with his cock in the house you share with your parents, making you tell him what a slutty sister you are n mocking you for being so desperate for his cock that you chose to help him expand the collection of your panties that stay hidden in his drawers have you humping your pillow, a fresh set of panties now ruined and ready for him to take.
maybe this time, jungwon will just take them off of you, rather than waiting around.
literally how’d u know i was gna say him. what if i was thinking jake. or hoon. or jungwon. or jay. or Someone Else. ALSO I DONT WISH THAT. He Wishes that would happen.
