Would you write a smut of niki where you both are arranged marriage both directly meet each other on weeding and he won mama award and come back home and make love with you first time please
First time — Nishimura riki
⤷ You two got married a few hours ago. He went to the MAMA awards, won, came home, and fuck you.
⋆. 𐙚 ̊ husband!Niki × fem!reader
₊ ⊹ Creampie (multiple) , Squirting , Oral sex (receiving & giving) , Explicit dirty talk , Overstimulation , Spanking (light) , Forced orgasms , Mild choking , Size kink , Rough sex , Loss of virginity.
The day of the wedding arrives like a fever dream. You stand in front of the mirror in a silk hanbok the color of midnight, the heavy embroidery scratching lightly against your skin. Your hands tremble while the stylists pin the final jewels into your hair. You have never met the man you are about to marry. All you know is his name: Niki. Twenty-one, globally famous, the golden maknae of ENHYPEN, and now, by some unfathomable contract between families and companies, your husband.
The ceremony is a blur of red and gold, camera flashes, and the weight of a thousand eyes. When the officiant tells him to lift your veil, you finally see his face up close. Sharp jaw, dark eyes that look almost black under the lights, lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t smile. He only stares, as if he’s trying to decide whether you’re real. When he slips the ring onto your finger, his hand is cold.
The banquet is endless. He sits beside you, silent, answering questions from guests with short, polite nods. Every time his thigh brushes yours under the table you flinch. He notices. The corner of his mouth lifts, just barely.
Then he has to leave for the MAMA awards. A private jet, a rushed goodbye that isn’t really a goodbye. You’re sent to the new apartment first, alone. The penthouse is too large, too quiet. You shower, change into the silk nightgown they left for you, white and thin enough to see through. You sit on the edge of the bed and wait, heart hammering against your ribs.
It’s past three in the morning when the front door finally opens. You hear the soft thud of his shoes, the rustle of his suit jacket hitting the floor. He walks into the bedroom still wearing the black tuxedo from the stage, the MAMA trophy clutched loosely in one hand. His hair is messy now, pushed back from his face, and his eyes are darker than they were at the altar.
He sets the trophy on the dresser without a word and looks at you.
You’re sitting there, knees pressed together, hands twisted in your lap. He walks over slowly, stops right in front of you, and reaches out. His fingers brush your cheek, then slide down to your throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there, feeling your pulse race.
“You waited,” he says, voice low, rough from screaming thank-yous on stage.
You nod.
He leans down and kisses you for the first time. It’s not gentle. His tongue pushes straight into your mouth, tasting like champagne and something sharper. You whimper against him and he swallows the sound, hand tightening on your throat just enough to make you dizzy.
When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide.
“Take it off,” he says, nodding at the nightgown.
Your hands shake as you pull it over your head. The silk whispers to the floor. You’re completely naked underneath. His gaze drags down your body slowly, possessive, hungry. He unbuttons his shirt without looking away, lets it fall open. His chest is lean, defined, still glistening slightly from the stage lights and sweat.
He pushes you back onto the bed, climbs over you, knees forcing your thighs apart. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your stomach as he kisses you again, deeper, messier. His teeth catch your bottom lip and bite down hard enough to sting. You gasp and he licks into the hurt like he’s soothing it.
His hand slides between your legs, fingers spreading you open without warning. You’re already wet, embarrassingly so, and he hums against your mouth when he feels it.
“Good,” he mutters. “You’re ready for me.”
He doesn’t prep you much. Just two fingers pushing in slow, curling once, twice, while his thumb circles your clit. You arch off the bed and he presses you back down with a palm flat on your sternum.
“Stay still.”
Then he’s pulling his fingers out, slicking himself with your wetness. You feel the blunt head of his cock nudging against your entrance, thick, hot. He looks down at you, eyes locked on yours, and pushes in.
Slow.
So slow it burns. He sinks in inch by inch, watching your face the entire time. Your hands fist in the sheets, mouth open on a silent cry. When he’s fully inside, hips flush against yours, he stops. Lets you feel how deep he is. Your walls flutter around him and he groans, low in his throat.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
He starts to move, careful at first, long, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside you. His forehead presses to yours, breath hot against your lips. One hand grips your hip, the other tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your neck. He kisses down your throat, teeth grazing, then biting down hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder.
You cry out and he growls against your skin, hips snapping a little harder.
The gentleness starts to crack.
Each thrust gets sharper, deeper. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, making you jolt up the bed. His hand leaves your hair and grabs your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist so he can go even deeper. The headboard starts knocking against the wall.
You claw at his back, nails digging into muscle, and he hisses, fucks you harder. His teeth find your breast, closing around your nipple and biting down until you scream. He doesn’t let go. Just sucks and bites and thrusts brutally now, pace relentless.
“Look at me,” he snarls.
You force your eyes open. His face is flushed, lips swollen, eyes wild. He looks feral.
“This pussy is mine now,” he says, voice wrecked. “You’re mine.”
He flips you over without pulling out, yanks your hips up so you’re on your knees. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest into the mattress. Then he starts fucking you like he hates you.
Hard.
Deep.
Punishing.
Each thrust punches the air from your lungs. His balls slap against your clit, wet and obscene. You’re dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets. He reaches around and rubs your clit roughly, no rhythm, just pressure and friction until you’re sobbing into the pillow.
You come hard, clenching around him so tight he curses in Korean, hips stuttering.
He doesn’t stop.
He fucks you through it, harder, chasing his own release. His hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling you up so your back is against his chest. His mouth finds your ear.
“Come again,” he demands, teeth sinking into your earlobe. “I’m not done.”
You’re oversensitive, shaking, but he doesn’t care. His fingers work your clit mercilessly while his cock splits you open. You come a second time, harder, vision whiting out.
Only then does he let go.
He slams in deep one last time and stays there, groaning as he fills you. You feel every pulse, hot and thick inside you. His teeth sink into your shoulder again, marking you as he empties himself.
When he finally pulls out, you collapse onto the bed, trembling. He falls beside you, chest heaving. After a minute, he reaches over and pulls you into his arms, surprisingly gentle now.
His lips brush the bite marks he left on your skin.
“Mine,” he whispers again, softer this time.
You’re too wrecked to answer. You just close your eyes and let him hold you, cum leaking out of you onto the sheets, body covered in his marks.
Your husband.
The morning light is pale and cold when you wake up. Your body aches everywhere, thighs trembling when you try to move, skin stinging from the bites and bruises he left like signatures. You can still feel him inside you, the ghost of how deep he was, how roughly he took you. The sheets are a mess, dried cum and sweat and the faint metallic scent of blood where he bit too hard.
Niki is already awake. He’s standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, the MAMA trophy glinting on the nightstand like it’s watching. His back is to you, spine sharp under smooth skin, the scratches you left glowing red against his shoulder blades.
You shift and wince. The movement makes him turn.
His eyes find you immediately. Darker than last night, heavier. He walks over slowly, predator quiet, and sits on the edge of the bed. One hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.
“Sore?” he asks, voice rough from sleep.
You nod, throat dry.
He leans down and kisses you, soft at first, almost tender, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours like he’s tasting himself on you. When he pulls back, his hand slides down your body, over your breast, your stomach, between your legs.
You’re swollen, sensitive, sticky with him. He pushes two fingers into you without warning and you whimper, hips jerking.
“Still full of me,” he murmurs, pumping slowly, curling his fingers to press against that spot that makes you see stars. “Good.”
You’re already wet again. Embarrassingly fast. He smirks, adds a third finger, stretches you open while watching your face twist.
“I have schedules today,” he says, almost conversational, while his fingers fuck you slow and deep. “Dance practice. Interview. Photoshoot. But I’m canceling.”
His thumb finds your clit and circles, lazy, perfect pressure.
“I’m staying home,” he continues, leaning down to bite your neck again, right over the bruise he left last night. “I’m going to spend the entire day inside you.”
You moan, loud and broken, and he chuckles against your skin.
He pulls his fingers out, brings them to your mouth. You suck them clean without being told, tasting both of you. His eyes darken.
“On your knees.”
You obey, shaky, crawling to the center of the bed. He stands, pushes his sweatpants down. His cock is already hard, flushed, tip wet. He strokes himself once, twice, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back.
“Open.”
You do.
He slides into your mouth slow, letting you feel every inch. Your jaw aches immediately, he’s thick, but you take him deeper, tongue flat against the underside. He groans, hips rocking slightly, then pulls out and slaps your cheek with his cock, once, twice, wet and heavy.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low. “Already drooling for it.”
He pushes back in, deeper this time, until you gag. He holds you there, nose pressed to his pelvis, throat spasming around him. Tears run down your cheeks. When he finally lets you breathe, you’re gasping, spit dripping from your chin.
He doesn’t give you time to recover.
He flips you onto your stomach, yanks your hips up, and buries himself inside you in one brutal thrust.
You scream into the pillow.
He doesn’t go slow this time.
He fucks you like he’s trying to break you open, hips slamming against your ass, cock dragging against your walls so deep it hurts. One hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling you up so your back arches painfully. The other reaches under you, pinches your clit hard.
You come instantly, clenching around him so tight he snarls.
“That’s one,” he growls into your ear. “You’re going to give me five before I leave this bed.”
He doesn’t stop.
He fucks you through it, harder, faster, the bed creaking dangerously. His hand leaves your throat and grabs both your wrists, pinning them behind your back. He uses them like a handle, yanking you back onto his cock with every thrust.
You’re sobbing now, oversensitive, body shaking, but he doesn’t care.
He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your back, and shoves your knees to your chest. Then he’s back inside, deeper than before, pounding into you so hard your vision blurs.
“Look at me,” he demands again.
You do.
His face is flushed, sweaty, beautiful and terrifying. His eyes never leave yours as he fucks you raw.
“Say it,” he says through gritted teeth.
You know what he wants.
“I’m yours,” you choke out.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours, Niki, fuck, I’m yours—”
He groans, hips stuttering, and comes deep inside you again, filling you up for the second time in less than twelve hours.
But he’s not done.
He stays inside you, hard again almost immediately, and starts moving slow, grinding deep, making you feel every inch.
“Two,” he whispers against your lips.
By the time the sun is high in the sky, you’ve lost count.
You’re on your back again, legs over his shoulders, body folded in half while he fucks you slow and filthy, biting your ankles, your calves, your thighs. There’s cum dripping out of you every time he pulls back, only to be fucked back in with the next thrust.
He comes a third time with his teeth sunk into your breast, marking you again.
Then he pulls out, flips you over, and takes you from behind again, slower now, deeper, grinding against your ass while his fingers work your clit until you’re crying, begging, coming again so hard you squirt around him.
He licks it off his fingers like it’s dessert.
By the fifth time, you’re barely conscious, body limp and trembling, voice gone from screaming. He’s holding you close now, fucking you gentle but deep, kissing your tears away.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft for the first time all morning. “One more. For me.”
You do.
You come one last time, weakly, clenching around him as he fills you again, warm and endless.
When it’s over, he doesn’t pull out.
He stays inside you, arms wrapped around you tight, face buried in your neck.
You fall asleep like that, impaled on him, owned completely.
The sky outside has turned violet and gold by the time you stir again.
You’re floating somewhere between sleep and ache, every muscle trembling, skin hot and sticky, the sheets beneath you ruined beyond saving. Niki is still inside you, half-hard, his arms locked around your waist like he never plans to let go. His breath is slow and even against the back of your neck, warm and steady.
He feels you move and tightens his hold immediately.
“Shh,” he murmurs, lips brushing the bite mark on your shoulder. “Don’t. You’ll hurt.”
You whimper because he’s right. Your thighs are shaking, your pussy swollen and throbbing around him, cum leaking out in a slow, steady drip every time either of you shifts. He kisses the shell of your ear, soft, almost apologetic.
“I’ve got you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Stay still.”
Very carefully he pulls out. The drag makes you both hiss; you’re so sensitive it feels like fire, and he’s still thick even softening. A thick gush of cum follows, sliding down your folds, over your clit, pooling on the sheets. He groans at the sight, thumb swiping through the mess and pushing it back inside you like he can’t bear to waste it.
You’re too weak to protest.
He disappears for a minute and comes back with a warm, wet towel. The first touch of it against your skin makes you jerk and cry out, oversensitive, but he shushes you gently, cleaning you with slow, reverent strokes. Between your legs, over every bruise and bite, down your thighs where dried cum has crusted. He’s careful around your entrance, wiping away the excess but never pushing inside, just soothing.
When he’s done, he throws the towel away and scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Your head lolls against his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. The tub is already running; he must have started it while you were half-conscious. Steam fills the room, scented faintly with something calming, lavender maybe.
He lowers you into the water first, then climbs in behind you, pulling you back against his chest. The heat is almost too much on your abused skin, but it melts the ache out of your muscles slowly. His hands slide over you, massaging your shoulders, your arms, your sore breasts. When his thumbs brush your nipples you flinch and he immediately stops, pressing a kiss to your temple instead.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be gentle.”
He washes your hair next, fingers working shampoo into your scalp with the same slow care he used when he was fucking you hours ago. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, eyes closed. The water turns faintly pink from the little scratches and bites, but he doesn’t comment.
After the bath he dries you with the softest towel you’ve ever felt, then carries you to the guest room; the main bed is unsalvageable. Fresh sheets, cool and crisp. He lays you down and disappears again, coming back with a tray: warm honey tea, painkillers, a bowl of cut fruit, and a small jar of something that smells like arnica.
He makes you drink the tea first, holding the cup to your lips because your hands are shaking too much. Then the painkillers. Only when you’ve swallowed everything does he climb in beside you.
He rubs the arnica gel into every mark he left: the deep purple bruises on your hips, the teeth marks ringing your breasts, the perfect imprint of his bite on your shoulder and throat. His touch is feather-light now, almost worshipful. Every time you wince he kisses the spot, murmuring sorry against your skin like a prayer.
When he’s done, he pulls you into his arms again, your back to his chest, one hand splayed possessively over your lower belly where he came so many times it still feels warm inside.
“You did so well for me,” he says quietly, lips against your hair. “Took everything I gave you. My perfect wife.”
You’re too exhausted to speak, but you turn your face into his neck and press a shaky kiss there. He exhales, long and slow, like the last of the storm finally leaving him.
“I’ll never hurt you like that again unless you beg me to,” he promises, voice raw. “But fuck, I’ll never forget how you looked falling apart on my cock.”
His fingers lace with yours over your stomach.
“Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”
The city lights flicker on outside the window, but inside it’s quiet. Just his heartbeat against your spine, his warmth wrapped around you, the faint ache between your legs that reminds you with every breath who you belong to now.
been thinking about jungwon being adamant about proving it to you that he can be better than the men your age despite being two years younger than you, especially cause you always saw him as a cute friend, so when he asks you to help him with a photoshoot for his instagram, you agreed, not knowing that he’d be on the bed, shirtless, all pretty for you to see just how wide his shoulders were, how sultry he looked posing, staring into the camera, right at you, asking about the rose placements.
so, when you gulp and look away, trying to adjust his curls, he chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you right on top of him in a way that had you gasping, especially when you grabbed onto his shoulder, body warm and his lips inches away from yours, “still see me as a child, noona?” he breathed out, staring into your wide eyes, smirking as you struggled to speak up because no, you couldn’t. you wanted him closer—no space between you both, and you were too embarrassed to admit it out loud.
he simply took matters into his hands, flipping you over with ease as he caged you between the mattress and his arms, fingers trailing down as he reached your skirt, chuckling when you took a shaky breath in, whispering into your ear, “you don’t, right? that’s good, cause i’m about to prove it to you that i’m not,” he said just as he shoved your panties to the side, pressing his fingers into your already dripping cunt, “be good now, noona.”
synopsis: in which jungwon gets too drunk, too honest, and far too handsy, and somewhere between the pulled-over car and the way he begs for you, everything you thought you knew starts to snap.
genre: best friends au
pairing: drunk best friend!jungwon x afab reader
warnings: drunk!jungwon, super handsy!jungwon, dub-con, pervy!jungwon, teasing, dirty talk, oral (f.rec), pussydrunk!jungwon, sub!jungwon? dom!reader? mutual masturbation (m and f), car sex (sorta), someone’s watching….
wc: 8.4k+
a/n: i needed a needy jungwon fic…. also holy frick yall i haven’t written smut in months and i feel like ive lost all my talent 🤬 im not sure why i had so much difficulty writing this fic but ts better be fixed for next time…anyways hope yall enjoy :3
—
you barely put the car in park before the front door of the house swings open like someone kicked it.
jungwon stumbles out, supported on each side by two of his friends, sunghoon and niki, grinning like he just saw god.
or, apparently, you.
"THERE she is," he says way too loudly, pointing at you with a wobbling hand. "that's my girl."
you choke. his friends choke. jungwon doesn't notice, to busy admiring your form as you slam your car door shut in mild frustration.
you had your whole night planned out, your room was cleaned, all class work completed, no responsibilities to uphold. you made dinner and planned to rot on your couch and binge watch a new series you had started till you inevitably passed out.
however, that plan was soon ruined when your phone blew up with messages and calls from sunghoon and niki who begged you to come pick up your childhood best friend, a very drunk jungwon.
you walk up the driveway, jaw tight, hoodie half-zipped, t-shirt (his) hanging off one shoulder, hair messy from being ripped out of the couches warm embrace.
you are not in the mood.
but jungwon? jungwon looks like he just found heaven wearing shorts and crocs.
he breaks free from his friends with the grace of a baby deer and practically lunges at you.
"woah—jungwon—" you start, but he's already wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you against him like you might vanish.
his face buries into your neck instantly. not your shoulder—your neck.
and he breathes. deep. your body shudders as you feel his warm breath fan across the sensitive area, knees trembling slightly as you position your hands to pull him away.
"fuck..." he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, "why do you smell this good? it's like... illegal. i should report you."
you blink. "you're actually insane."
he nuzzles closer. actually nuzzles. his nose drags from your jaw to the base of your neck like he's trying to memorize you by scent.
"you smell like... warm," he continues, drunk and poetic. "and sweet. and... fuck, i can't even explain it." another inhale, "you smell like i wanna bite you."
your knees almost give out. this was..new.
you grab his shoulders to steady him, but he freezes when your hands touch him. slowly, his fingers slide down your sides until they find your waist again.
his grip tightens.
"your skin is so soft," he says suddenly, like it's a crime you haven't been arrested for. he rubs a thumb against the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up. "right here... it's so warm. feels nice."
"jungwon—" you hiss, glancing at his friends, who are watching with the expressions of people witnessing a car crash.
"what?" he lifts his head, blinking up at you all innocent and tipsy. "'m just appreciating. you're soft. it's distracting."
he leans in again, brushing his lips against your jaw by accident. or drunk aimlessness. you can't tell.
your breath catches.
jungwon smiles, slow and lazy. "i can feel your pulse. right here." his fingers tap your waist.
"you always get like this when i'm close. it's cute."
you shove him lightly because you're seconds from combusting. jungwon was always touchy, but his usual touch which was innocent was replaced by something much darker.
"get in the damn car."
"only if you keep touching me," he says, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest like you're claiming him. his heart is pounding in his chest, almost as if it was going to escape him.
"jesus," you mutter, trying to pull away.
he doesn't let you. of fucking course.
instead he laces your fingers together, squeezes once, and says, soft and drunk and devastating:
"i missed you tonight."
before you can respond, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours—actually presses it there—and whispers, "your skin... your smell... you're making me crazy."
your heart is in your throat.
"jungwon," you murmur, "get in the car."
he grins like he won.
"okaaay," he sings, finally letting you guide him toward the passenger seat—but not without trailing his fingers slowly down your arm the whole way. like he's memorizing the shape of you by touch.
"you feel pretty too," he mumbles, his eyes dragging across your face. "not just look. feel."
you open the door and he plops into the seat. you lean across him to buckle the belt.
mistake.
your hair brushes his cheek and he shivers. actually shivers.
his hands lift—slow, clumsy—and settle on your hips.
"don't do that," he whispers, voice suddenly rough. "don't get this close unless you want me to think things."
you freeze, breath caught, inches from his mouth and you can't help but let your eyes dart down.
"think what?" you whisper back before you can stop yourself.
he smirks. even drunk, the boy knows exactly what he's doing.
"things i shouldn't say unless you kiss me first."
your entire body lights on fire. you rip yourself away from him and slam the door closed as you begin to feel your face burning.
through the window, jungwon watches you with a dreamy smile, cheeks flushed, fingers tapping the spot on his chest where your hand had been.
the second the door shuts, jungwon sprawls back in the seat like he owns it—like he owns you.
he's slouched comfortably, legs spread wide, hand already draped over the console like an invitation. or a trap.
"you drive slow when you're mad," he says as you pull out of the driveway. almost like he's studying you. like he enjoys it.
"i'm not mad," you lie. you were fuming. not only were you mad because your plans were thrown out the window, but now you had a cocky shit-faced bastard sitting in your passenger seat who wouldn't stop looking at you like you were his entire world.
"you're adorable when you lie," he counters immediately.
your jaw clenches, you shit your eyes momentarily to calm yourself down.
and that's when his hand finds your thigh.
not tentative. not testing. claiming.
his palm lands high—too high—and squeezes with purpose, fingers spreading over the soft inside of your leg like he's done this before in his head.
"jungwon—"
"shhh," he says, leaning back, eyes half-lidded.
"your thigh feels good. let me enjoy it."
you inhale sharply.
he smirks—slow, knowing.
"see?" he murmurs. "i knew you'd sound like that."
his thumb drags up the inside of your thigh, higher, deliberate, slow enough to make you sweat but not enough to cross a line. he's hovering in the worst possible place.
"confident tonight, aren't you," you mutter.
"i'm always confident around you," he says simply. "i just pretend i'm not so i don't scare you."
your pulse stutters at his sudden confession.
his hand squeezes again—firm, warm, the kind of grip that makes your breath hitch.
"eyes on the road," he adds, voice dropping.
"unless you want me to take over."
you almost choke. "take over what?"
jungwon laughs—low, husky, intoxicated in the way men get when they're turned on and fearless.
"whatever you'll let me."
your grip on the wheel tightens. he notices, of course he notices.
"god, you're tense," he says softly, leaning closer until his breath ghosts over your cheek. "do i make you nervous?"
"no."
he grins. "another lie."
his thumb begins rubbing slow circles into your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you're warmest.
"stop messing with me, jungwon." you snap, the flush on your cheeks only getting darker.
"i'd rather mess with you than leave you alone," he murmurs. "you know how long i've wanted my hands here?"
your stomach drops at his words, swallowing harshly and controlling the urge to snap your head to the side to see his facial expression.
he tips his head, studying your reaction like a man savoring his favorite dessert.
"keep driving," he orders, voice low and wicked.
"i'm not done touching you."
you open your mouth to argue—but his hand slides higher, fingers brushing the seam of your shorts.
your breath breaks. audibly.
jungwon smirks. "that's the sound i wanted."
"jungwon, seriously—"
"relax," he says, squeezing once—slow, firm, deliberate enough to send heat up your spine.
"if i wanted to really touch you, you'd know."
you swallow hard, whatever that means.
jungwon leans in—close enough that his lips graze your ear when he speaks.
"you smell good," he whispers. "so fucking good. i noticed it the second you pulled up."
his nose trails down your jaw—not touching, just close enough to burn.
"sweet," he says softly.
"warm." another inhale.
"like you'd taste even better."
you shiver and he feels it.
"yeah," he murmurs, voice dropping to something darker. "bet you taste unreal."
your thighs tense up, big mistake. jungwon notices instantly.
"ohhh... she liked that," he purrs. he squeezes again, fingers pressing in just right. "you're so obvious, baby."
you nearly jerk the wheel. "don't call me that."
"why?" he asks. "you clench up every time i say it. you like when i talk like that, right baby?"
you're sweating bullets at this point, wishing that you lived much closer so you could get out of this car. jungwon on the other hand, he's thriving.
"stop," you whisper.
"make me."
you look at him and he's staring right back, eyes blown, full mouth curved into the cockiest, laziest grin you've ever seen on him.
his voice drops to a whisper that ruins you: "pull over."
"no."
"pull over," he repeats, calmer, warmer, dead serious. "or i'm going to keep touching you until you do."
your breath catches. his hand on your thigh slides half an inch higher—barely anything, but enough to make your heart slam against your ribs.
"last chance," he murmurs, his voice now hazy and clouded. "pull over, sweetheart."
and the way he says it—low, confident, hungry—
makes your whole body go hot.
your hands are tight on the steering wheel. ten and two. eyes glued on the road. jaw clenched.
you can do this. you can get him home. you can ignore the way he's been touching you for the last ten minutes—his fingers drift higher on your thigh.
okay maybe you can't.
"jungwon," you say through a breath that's definitely not steady, "keep your hand still."
"my hand is where it is," he murmurs, sounding way too innocent for someone whose fingertips are now brushing the hem of your short sleep shorts.
"jungwon," you warn again.
he laughs softly and leans his head back against the seat, eyes sliding over to you with a lazy, drunk, confident smirk.
"you keep saying my name like that," he says, voice low, "i'm gonna think you like it."
your throat goes tight. you press your foot on the gas, just a little. just enough to get home faster.
but jungwon doesn't care about your plan. he drags his fingers up another inch—slow, deliberate, like he's giving you time to react.
you do. you choke on air.
"stop," you whisper.
"you don't sound like you want me to." you don't.
you squeeze the wheel. you try to focus on the street signs. you tell yourself you can hold it together for five more minutes.
his hand slides higher. higher and higher.
your hips jerk right when you feel his fingers graze your panty clad core and the car swerves. "fuck— jungwon!"
he hums, pleased. "you're shaking."
"because you— you're distracting me—"
"good." he squeezes the inside of your thigh, firm, almost possessive. "then pay attention."
you feel heat pool low in your stomach. your heartbeat snaps into something fast and stupid. he's drunk but he's too confident, too controlled. his thumb strokes slow circles against the soft skin there, dangerous and knowing.
"jungwon, i swear—"
"pull over."
you blink. "what?"
"pull over," he repeats, quieter this time, leaning in until his lips almost brush your cheek. "before i make you."
your breath stops. you're not even sure if he means with his touch or with your own reaction to it, but either way—you can't keep driving like this.
especially not when he drags his fingers up again, grazing the very edge of your inner thigh, so close it's practically illegal.
"jungwon—"
"pull over, pretty girl."
your stomach drops. you pull over.
the car rolls to a shaky stop, and the second it's in park he exhales sharply—like he's been holding himself back, too.
"good," he murmurs, turning his head toward you slowly. "that's better."
"you're drunk," you manage, your mouth parting when you see how predatorial his expression had become.
"yeah," he agrees, leaning closer, voice dropping into something dark and warm, "but i still know what i want."
his hand moves again. purposeful. slow. claiming.
"and right now," he whispers, breath brushing your ear, "i want to touch you so fucking bad."
your entire body lights up. heat floods your face, your chest, your stomach. you can't move. can't breathe. can't think.
his mouth hovers right by your jaw.
"you don't even know," he murmurs, "how hard it's been all night saying how good you smell and not being able to actually taste you."
your pulse stutters.
he laughs, drunk and bold and sinfully confident.
"bet you taste even better."
the car is silent except for both of you breathing too hard. your hands are still on the wheel like you're afraid to move. jungwon's hand is still on your thigh like he owns it.
he looks at you. really looks. and then he shifts closer across the seat, slow like he's stalking you.
"come here," he murmurs, his legs spreading as if he was expecting you to climb over the console and situate yourself in his lap.
you freeze. "jungwon—"
"i'm serious." he nods at you lazily, eyes hooded, pupils blown wide from alcohol and whatever the hell you're doing to him. "c'mere for a second."
your voice wavers. "why?"
he lets out a low, drunk laugh. "you know why."
his hand moves higher again, and your breath just stops.
"jungwon, don't—"
"i want a taste," he says, plain and shameless.
your stomach drops straight through the floor.
"wha— what?"
he leans in until your noses almost touch. his breath is hot, alcohol-sweet, desperate.
"let me put my mouth on you. i can't promise i won't ever ask again but just this once" he whispers, eyes flicking down to your lips, then lower—way lower—before dragging back up again. "please."
your thighs clench involuntarily, and he notices.
his smirk is slow and devastating, you can see his eyes lingering.
"yeah," he murmurs, "you want it too."
you shake your head because you're supposed to, because someone has to be the adult. "you're drunk—"
"i'm drunk," he agrees, "i'm not dead. i know exactly what i want."
his hand squeezes your thigh, harder this time—enough to make your breath stutter. enough to make everything inside you tighten.
"let me taste you," he says again, softer, dirtier. "just once."
you swallow. hard, "y-you said you can't promise it'll be the only time..."
his eyes darken instantly.
"yeah," he admits, brushing his thumb along the inside of your thigh like he's mapping out exactly where he wants to put his mouth. "because if i get one taste?"
he leans in closer, lips ghosting your jaw, your cheek, your neck—hovering but not touching.
"...i'm not stopping."
your breath catches. his mouth gets dangerously close to your skin, and he whispers it again—more desperate this time.
"please. lemme have you."
your body goes hot all the way through.
"i'll be good," he murmurs, already lowering his head like he's imagining the exact angle. "i'll make you feel so good, pretty. just— just let me taste you."
your knees actually go weak even though you're sitting. you don't answer immediately, your mind racing as you finally realize what your oh-so innocent best friend was asking from you.
and jungwon notices—he fucking feels your hesitation—so he gets even bolder. he brings his free hand up, fingertips brushing under your chin, tilting your face toward him.
his voice is low, raspy, hungry. "say yes," he whispers. "please. i've been thinking about your body forever ."
your heart slams into your ribs. you're drowning. absolutely drowning.
and then—just to ruin you completely—he whispers the final blow against your cheek: "i swear, baby... you give me one taste and you won't walk straight tomorrow."
his words are still hanging in the air — you won't walk straight tomorrow — when you finally find your voice again.
barely.
"jungwon... no." you whisper it. weak. breathless. not convincing at all.
he hears the word, but he hears everything underneath it too. so he doesn't move. he just looks up at you from where he's leaning into your neck, eyes dark and glossy, mouth parted like he's two seconds from losing his mind.
"no?" he repeats softly.
you nod, almost as if you were convincing yourself more than him. "we're not doing this. you're drunk."
he presses his lips together in a slow, almost pouty line... then drags his hand up your thigh again like he's testing how much of that no is real.
"you're saying no..." he murmurs, fingers sliding higher, "but you're shaking so bad right now."
you grab his wrist—finally, some resistance—but your grip is nothing. he could move your hand whenever he wants.
he kind of likes that.
"stop," you say, but your voice cracks like a goddamn glass.
jungwon lifts his head. his eyes are hazy, heavy-lidded, but his expression is so intense it makes your stomach twist.
"don't push me away."
"jung—"
he leans forward suddenly, forehead touching yours, breath warm and uneven against your lips.
"please don't push me away."
the shift in him almost knocks the air from your lungs. he's still drunk, still bold, but now there's this raw, aching need layered under every word.
"jungwon, you're not thinking straight—"
"i'm thinking about you," he shoots back instantly, nearly desperate. "i'm thinking about how fucking good you smell. it's driving me insane."
your fingers loosen around his wrist without meaning to.
he notices. he always notices. he slides his hand higher. too high. hot against your inner thigh.
you gasp. "jungwon—!"
that does it.
he groans—actually groans—like the sound rips straight out of his chest.
"don't do that," he whispers, sounding almost pained. "don't say my name like that if you want me to stop."
you try to pull back, but he follows. his mouth chases your skin. his breath hits your jaw, your cheek, your neck. he still doesn't touch you with his lips... but he is so, so close it's torture.
"i said no," you manage.
"and i heard you," he murmurs, voice rough, "but god, baby... the way you're breathing right now? you're killing me."
your thighs squeeze together.
jungwon sees. jungwon reacts.
he lets out the quietest, filthiest little laugh—low, breathless, hungry.
"you're trying so hard to be good," he whispers, fingers pushing higher until he's a hair away from where you're burning. "but you want me. you want me."
"i don't—"
"yeah?" he cuts you off, tilting his head so his lips graze the shell of your ear without touching. "then why are you clenching your thighs like that?"
heat surges through you, molten and humiliating.
you shove at his chest—not hard, not enough to move him but just enough to pretend like you're resisting.
he catches your hand. interlaces his fingers with yours. holds it against his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.
"don't push me away," he whispers again, voice cracking now. needier. "please. i've wanted you for so fucking long."
your breath stutters.
his other hand leaves your thigh for a moment—just a moment—to grab your waist and pull you closer across the center console. not rough. not gentle. just drunk and desperate.
you land half on his lap, half in his arms.
his mouth falls open. his voice goes wrecked.
"fuck... you feel so good," he breathes, burying his face against your throat. "please, baby. please just let me taste you."
you swallow a moan. you actually swallow a moan.
he hears the sound anyway, muffled as it is and that's when jungwon truly loses it.
he fists the fabric of your shirt. pulls you in tighter, like he's afraid you'll evaporate if he loosens his grip.
his lips hover over your neck—trembling, hungry, one second from crossing the line.
"i'm begging you," he whispers, voice raw. "just one taste. just one. i swear..."
he laughs weakly against your skin, breath shaky.
"...i swear i'll lose my fucking mind if you don't let me."
he tugs at you again and the moment you land fully on his lap, something in jungwon snaps. his hands grip at you, pushing you around till you're forced to straddle his lap. his hands fumble slightly, pressing the lever at the side of the seat so you were practically laying against him causing you to yelp in surprise.
you feel it. your breath catches as he presses his face to your neck again—only this time, he doesn't stop at hovering.
he kisses you. soft at first. warm. barely-there. then deeper. slower. hungrier. a low, desperate sound rumbles out of him—almost a whine, almost a groan—like he's been holding this in for years and the dam finally cracked.
"jung—won—" your voice fractures, fingers clutching his shoulders.
but he's gone. completely gone.
he drags his mouth along your pulse point, lips open, breath shaking like he can't believe you're real. each kiss is wetter, hotter, more desperate than the last.
your whole body lights up.
"fuck..." he whispers against your skin, voice breaking. "you taste— you taste so good already, i can't— i can't stop—"
your heart stutters.
his hands grip your waist, not exactly gentle, pulling you closer, pulling you into him like he's starving.
then his mouth opens wider— his tongue grazes your neck.
you gasp, your eyes squeezing tight when you feel his thick bulge press into you in combination to his tongue laving at your neck.
he moans. outright moans into your skin, a needy, ruined sound that makes your legs weak even though you're sitting.
that's when you realize he's truly not stopping.
he's trembling. he's breathing too fast.
his eyes flutter open and they're glossy, blown wide, dark with something feral and desperate.
"jungwon— stop—" you stammer, pushing at his chest.
he doesn't even hear you.
he keeps kissing lower, toward your collarbone, his lips hot and messy and hungry.
"please," he whispers into your skin like he's praying. "please let me— let me taste you properly..."
your thighs instinctively press together, a small groan escaping his mouth when he feels your core press into him.
he makes a broken sound, hands sliding from your waist back to your thighs.
"don't do that," he whines, fingers pressing into the soft inside of your thighs. "don't close them— please— please—"
you push at him harder. "jungwon, stop— we can't— you're drunk—"
he lifts his head finally, but only to look at you, eyes shining, lips swollen from kissing your neck.
he looks wrecked. ruined. desperate in a way you've never seen.
"i'll be careful," he says, voice cracking. "i'll be so good— i swear— just... just let me in."
his hand slides up your thigh again and you grab his wrist instantly, panting. he whines—actually whines, the sound high and breathless.
"don't," he pleads, leaning forward as if he's chasing your mouth now. "please, don't stop me— i've wanted you for so fucking long— i can't— god, i can't think straight—"
you try to shift off his lap, but he tightens his grip on your thigh, head dropping back into the crook of your neck like he's clinging to you.
"just— just let me taste you," he whispers again, voice hoarse, completely gone. "i want you so bad— i need... i need your thighs open for me, please—"
your breath punches out of your lungs. you shove him one more time—harder this time—and you manage to pull yourself off his lap just enough to break his mouth away from your skin.
jungwon actually gasps.
he chases after you instinctively, fingers flexing like he's reaching for you without thinking.
his voice comes out broken.
"baby— please— don't—"
you hold him back by the shoulders, panting, heart racing. he looks up at you with glassy eyes, flush high on his cheeks, chest rising and falling like he just ran miles.
"come back," he whispers, voice raw. "i'll beg— i'll fucking beg if you want— just come back. i just need one taste. one. please— please— i'm losing my fucking mind—"
your stomach lurches. your thighs press tight again and jungwon notices, he feels it.
his head falls forward, forehead against your collarbone, breath shaking.
"please," he whispers one last time, voice crumbling. "just let me have you. i swear i'll be gentle. i swear i'll make it so good for you... just open your thighs for me, baby, i'm begging—"
you keep him at arm's length, palms against his shoulders, chest heaving, heart in your throat.
jungwon looks destroyed.
hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy and blown wide with something deeper than lust—something raw. something that's been living under his skin for a very long time.
his breath shudders as he tries to lean forward again, but you hold him there.
"jungwon," you whisper, "just—stop for a second."
he shakes his head instantly. violently. "i can't."
his voice splits open on the last word. "i can't stop. i can't—" he drags in a breath, shoulders trembling. "you don't understand what you're doing to me."
you swallow hard. "you're drunk—"
"i'm drunk and i'm honest," he snaps, voice cracking. "i can't lie right now even if i wanted to."
you freeze and that hits harder than it should.
his hands lift—slow, shaking—and hover near your waist but don't grab. he's bracing himself on the seat, gripping the upholstery like he needs something to anchor him.
then he looks at you.
really looks.
"i've wanted you for so fucking long."
your breath catches. his chest rises sharply, like saying it hurt.
"you don't get it," he whispers, voice soft and rough and absolutely ruined. "you walk around looking so— so soft. so pretty. so fucking... touchable."
your stomach flips.
"and you don't even realize it," he goes on, words tumbling out with no control now. "you don't know how crazy you make me."
your hands loosen on his shoulders—just a little.
he sees. he swallows hard and keeps going.
"every time you sit next to me," he breathes, "i stare at your thighs and think about putting my mouth on them. every single time." heat shoots through you so fast you almost choke on it.
"jungwon—"
"i know," he whispers, "i know i shouldn't say this. i know i'm drunk. but i— i can't hold it in anymore."
his voice wavers. his eyes flick down your body for a split second—slow enough to feel like a touch.
"you always look so fucking soft." his jaw tightens, breath shaking. "so perfect. so sweet."
your pulse stutters.
he laughs once—quiet, broken, shameful. "i think about tasting you every night. how you would squeeze my head in-between your thighs and how they would shake and the noises you'd make." he's panting at this point, his eyes squeezing shut.
your knees actually go weak.
"don't—" you try, but the word falls apart halfway.
jungwon lifts a hand again, hesitates, then rests it gently—gently—on your knee. so different from the desperate grabbing earlier. softer. more honest.
"you have no clue what you do to me," he whispers. "i look at you and i just— i want you. i want every part of you."
his eyes rise back to yours, glossy and bare and unguarded.
"i want the sounds you'd make," he breathes. "i want the way you'd taste on my tongue. i want your thighs around my head. i want all of it. i've wanted it for so fucking long."
your hands slip off his shoulders completely. you don't know when your breath left your lungs but it still hasn't come back.
jungwon bites his lip. hard. like he's trying to stop more from spilling out. but it doesn't work.
his voice drops to a whisper that hits you like a punch: "i don't just want your body."
you blink.
his words tremble. "i want you."
you feel your heart drop into your stomach.
"i watch you all the time," he says, voice unsteady. "the way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you get mad. fuck— the way you walk into a room like you don't even know everyone looks at you."
your throat tightens.
"i look at you like you're mine," he admits, breath catching. "even though you're not. even though you probably never will be."
your chest actually hurts. his voice cracks completely: "i just... i want you so bad it makes me sick."
you stare at him—soft hair falling in his eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted, breathing too fast, hands trembling as he reaches for you again.
this time he manages to touch you. a shaky palm against your waist.
"baby," he whispers, sounding like he's breaking. "say something. please."
you open your mouth to say something—anything—to ground him, but jungwon is already leaning back in, chasing your lips like he physically can't stop himself. his breath trembles against your skin, warm and desperate, and his fingers curl harder around your waist like he thinks you'll disappear if he loosens even a little.
"w-wait—jungwon, slow down, i'm tryna—"
"don't—" he cuts you off on a ragged whisper, nose brushing your cheek as he tries to kiss you again. "don't pull away from me. please. just—just let me have you."
his voice cracks. actually cracks.
his eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed that soft rose-pink that always gives him away. he looks ruined already, like you've been doing something to him instead of just sitting here trying to breathe.
"jungwon," you murmur, trying to steady him with a hand on his chest, "you're not thinking straight—"
"i am," he insists, shaking his head, lips brushing yours because he can't stop leaning forward. "god, i am, i promise—i've been thinking straight for months and it's always the same thing. you. you on top of me. you using me however you want."
your fingers twitch.
his eyes flick down, immediately catching the movement like a starving animal catching scent of food.
"see?" he whispers. "you want me too. i can feel it."
you try to speak but he's already going again—mouth grazing the corner of yours, breath shaky, almost panting because he's so wound up it's pathetic.
pathetic and so, so pretty.
his grip slides lower, fingers pressing into your hips, guiding you closer like instinct is taking over. "just— just let me be good for you," he begs, voice cracking again. "you d-don't even need to do anything. you don't have to take care of me. just—" his forehead drops to your jaw, hot, needy breath fanning your throat. "please use me."
you swallow. hard.
"jungwon..."
he makes a sound. a broken whine into your neck that makes your spine stiffen.
"i'll do anything," he says, voice thready, trembling, "anything you want. you can put me wherever you want me and i'll stay there. i'll listen. i'll be quiet— or i won't, if you like hearing me beg. i'll be whatever you want. just... don't tell me no right now."
your heart kicks painfully.
his arms wrap fully around your waist now, pulling you against him like he's bracing for impact—like if you reject him he'll completely collapse.
"jungwon, you need to breathe—"
"i don't need to breathe," he whispers, voice turning low, hungry, unhinged. "i just need you. i just want your thighs around my head, i want your voice in my ears, i want—"
"jungwon."
he freezes, but only for a heartbeat. then he lifts his head. he looks at you like you're oxygen and he's drowning. his lips part, his breathing shaky, pupils blown like he's seconds from losing the last bit of control he has.
"please," he whispers, leaning in again, mouth barely brushing yours, begging in every possible way a person can beg. "just let me taste you. let me be your mouth. i'll do everything. i'll be good—so good for you, i swear."
his thumbs stroke your hips desperately.
"just say yes."
your breath stutters, just once, but it's enough.
jungwon feels it like a shockwave. his whole body tenses beneath your hands, head lifting from your neck, eyes snapping up to your face like he heard a door unlock.
"...what was that?" he whispers, voice low, raw, hopeful in a way that makes your stomach flip. "do it again. please."
you swallow, but it's loud in the quiet room. too loud.
his fingers tighten instantly—reactive, instinctive—digging into your hips in a bruising, claiming way that doesn't match the sweet, shy café owner you know. this is the version of him that lives underneath: needy, starved, a little feral.
"jungwon," you breathe, barely getting the word out, "you need to calm down—"
"i can't," he cuts in, voice breaking. "not when you sound like that. not when you're this close. i've wanted you for so long i—" he chokes on the rest, leaning in until his forehead presses into your cheek. "just tell me i'm not imagining this. tell me you want me too."
you try to pull back. big mistake.
he lets out a sound—somewhere between a whimper and a groan—and his grip snaps tight around your waist, dragging you right back into his lap like he can't bear a centimeter between you.
"don't go," he pleads, breath shaking. "please don't go, don't do that—i'll be good, i swear, i'll—i'll stay right here, i'll keep my hands where you want them, just don't pull away again—"
"i wasn't leaving." your voice is barely a whisper.
jungwon freezes. absolutely still.
then his head lifts slowly, eyes glossy and blown wide as he searches your face like he's scared he misheard.
"...you weren't?" he breathes.
you shake your head once. and that's it.
whatever thin thread of control he had snaps.
a broken sound slips out of him as he surges up, kissing you again—messier this time, hungrier, like he's trying to pour every bottled-up year of wanting into a single touch. his hands travel up your sides, hesitating only long enough to make sure you're not pulling away, before gripping the back of your shirt like he's terrified you'll disappear.
you gasp, fingers instinctively grabbing his shoulders for balance.
he feels it. he feels you holding onto him and it destroys him.
"please," he whispers into your mouth, hot and trembling. "just—say it. say i can have you. say you'll let me—" his breath catches, a shiver running through him as he presses his forehead to yours, "—let me show you how good i can be for you."
your pulse kicks. your thighs tighten around his.
his eyes drop instantly, pupils dilating so hard they practically swallow the brown.
"god," he murmurs, "you're killing me."
he kisses you again, slower this time, more certain, one hand sliding to your waist with careful reverence—as if he knows this is the final moment, the tipping point, the part where you either shove him away or—
you take his jaw in your hand.
not rough. not gentle. just decisive.
jungwon's breath punches out of him. his eyes flutter, lips parting like he's about to beg again, but no sound comes out.
you look at him. really look at him.
flushed cheeks. swollen lips. eyes glassy with desperation. every inch of him trembling under your touch, waiting for permission like a prayer.
"jungwon..." you murmur, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, "you want me that bad?"
he nods so fast it's almost frantic.
"i'll do anything," he whispers. "anything you want. just—let me. let me have you. let me be yours. tell me yes and i'll—" his voice cracks again, "...i'll make you feel so good."
your chest rises. falls. slow. then—you lean in, brushing your lips against his ear.
"okay," you breathe.
jungwon goes completely still. then he shudders—full-body, uncontrollable, like he's been hit by lightning.
"o-okay?" he repeats, voice breaking, knees trembling beneath you.
"yes."
and just like that—he loses it.
his hands fly to your waist, his breath hits your neck, a desperate, wrecked sound escaping him as he finally—finally—lets himself touch you the way he's always wanted.
you feel his mouth opening against your skin, right at the spot he's been dying to taste. his hands find themselves gripping at you feverishly, gripping your thighs, your waist, your butt.
"so good..s-so good," he almost murmurs to himself as begins to rock his hips, using his grip on your butt to push against him.
you couldn't help but let a whimper escape you when you feel the outline of him thrust against your clit, letting him move you around.
his grip on your butt is a vice. not rough, exactly, but firm, utterly non-negotiable. he pulls you in so tight you can feel the strained trembling of his muscles, crushing your slick core against the insistent, painful heat of his pants.
"oh god," he whimpers, the sound raw and shaky against your neck. he drags his mouth along your pulse point, leaving a wet trail. "you like that?" his voice is thick, full of drunken wonder and possessive triumph.
you try to answer, but the words are swallowed by a choked whimper. he groans, a needy, ruined sound, taking it as consent, and then he moves.
he doesn't bother with the console. he scrambles up, grabbing your hips, and pushes you over the barrier with reckless, sloppy urgency. you land in a trembling, messy heap across the drivers seat, your legs falling open, shorts pushed up and offering him everything.
he's not gentle. he just needs access.
jungwon is half-kneeling, half-sprawled over the console, his face right between your thighs. he looks absolutely destroyed: sweat beading on his temples, hair clinging to his forehead, his pupils wide and black.
"i knew it," he whispers, breath shaky and hot. he reaches out a trembling hand, his fingers spreading wide over your inner thigh, right near your heat.
his grip is firm, claiming, pressing in just enough to bruise later. "you're so warm right here. you're shaking, pretty girl."
he nudges your shorts crotch to the side with his nose, whimpering when the fabric resists, until your damp, exposed core is right in his line of sight.
"mine," he declares, the word a slurred, drunken promise.
he leans down, and you gasp as his tongue, thick and wet, sloops right over the thin, damp fabric of your underwear. he doesn't care about the fabric, he just needs the taste. it's messy, sloppy, and overwhelming.
"fuck, you taste so good," he hisses, pulling back an inch, his eyes dark and glazed. he looks absolutely starved. "sweet. like i knew you would be. i need to see it."
he fumbles at the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down hard until they bunch up around your knees. he's not careful. he just needs you bare.
he settles right between your thighs, pulling your knees wider with his needy hands. he takes a moment just to look—his eyes tracing the wetness, the flush, the vulnerable, beautiful mess you are.
"open your legs for me, sweetheart," he orders, his voice a raw, low rasp. he doesn't wait for you to comply, his hands squeeze your inner thighs, forcing you wide open. "i want to see how much i ruined you."
then he's there. his mouth clamps down, and the feeling is instant, consuming. his tongue is relentless, moving with a desperate, sloppy urgency that is entirely focused on your pleasure. he's not trying to be sophisticated, he's a drunk man finally tasting the obsession he's held for years.
you cry out loud, a sharp, uncontrolled sound that hits the ceiling of the car. he groans, a thick, muffled sound of pure satisfaction against your slick skin. his hands slide down, gripping the back of your thighs and squeezing, pulling you tighter onto his mouth, forcing your legs to tremble.
"say my name, baby," he begs, the words vibrating against your core as he licks harder, faster. "say you love how sloppy i am for you. i'm right here. i'm yours. you can use my mouth however you want. whenever you want."
he pushes deeper, his breath hot and uneven, panting in the short gaps between desperate licks. he's completely focused on driving you higher, his movements aggressive and needy.
"you're so wet," he whispers against your skin in disbelief, "you're soaking my mouth. i'm drinking you. god, you're making me so fucking messy."
you're trembling violently, your fingers digging into the seat, your hips involuntarily thrusting down onto him. he anchors you with his strong hands on your thighs, pushing you back up every time you try to pull away, forcing you to take his tongue.
he speeds up again, mercilessly, his tongue pushing, flicking, sucking with a rhythmic intensity that brings that familiar pit in your stomach to rise.
"just for me," he murmurs, his words barely audible over the loud, wet sounds he's making with his mouth full of pussy. "cum for me, pretty girl. i want to drown in you."
he gives you a final, deep, punishing drag, and you completely shatter. your back arches, your body going rigid as a shaking moan is torn from your throat.
he doesn't stop. he holds you there, letting you tremble against his mouth, his arms tight around your thighs, ensuring you feel every last ripple of the climax.
when you finally settle, panting and wrecked, he keeps his face buried in your lap for a long, heavy moment, simply tasting his victory.
he lifts his head. his mouth is wet, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with a feral mix of lust and possessive adoration. you almost came again at just the site of him.
he smiles—slow, lazy, utterly ruined—and his fingers slide down, reaching for the waistband of his open jeans.
jungwon lifts his head, his face flushed and wet, his eyes shining with feverish anticipation. he's breathing hard, his lips swollen and glistening. the messiness of his desire is plastered all over him.
"you said yes," he whispers, voice thick and ragged. he lets out a pathetic little choke of anticipation. "what do you want? tell me. i'll do it right now."
his hands, still firm on your inner thighs, tighten as you look at him. he's exposed, kneeling between your spread legs, panting, completely at your mercy.
you lean forward, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers roughly through his damp hair. not knowing what was coming over you, you pull him closer.
jungwon instantly melts into the touch, a low, needy whine escaping his chest. he presses his face against the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering.
"god," he mumbles into your skin. "that's it. you're touching me. don't stop."
you use the leverage on his hair to tilt his head, forcing him to look up at you again.
"you said i could use you," you whisper, the authority in your voice making his eyes widen. "i'm still wet, jungwon. and you're hard." your eyes dart down, his cock straining against his pants.
he swallows hard, his breath catching. "yeah. take it. take me."
he fumbles with the rest of his jeans, peeling them down just enough to expose the thick, rigid length straining against his boxers. he doesn't take his eyes off yours, searching for approval. he's so desperate for your gaze he can barely breathe.
"you're going to touch yourself," you say, your voice low and commanding.
jungwon freezes, a shock of confused, thrilled desperation hitting his face. "w-what? on your lap?"
you shake your head, using the hand still on his neck to push his head lower, his damp hair brushing against your inner thigh.
"no. you're gonna watch me. and you're going to obey."
he lets out a broken, pathetic sound, his whole body trembling. he's confused, aroused, and absolutely ruined by the instruction. "i—i can't look away. i won't."
"i'm not telling you to look away, im telling you to watch."
you press your hand down on the nape of his neck, demanding his stillness. you push yourself closer to him, now sharing the passenger seat with him as half of your body lays against the console while your legs over his lap.
his erection is now pressing firmly against his boxers, right near your hip, a hot, agonizing distraction.
you reach down and slide your hand down your aching core, fingers moving slowly and deliberately towards your still-sensitive cunt, making sure he sees every agonizing movement.
jungwon lets out a loud, strangled gasp. his eyes are fixed on your fingers, wide and glossy. he's panting, his lips parted, unable to move a muscle.
"do you like watching me, jungwon?" you ask, your voice soft and challenging.
he shakes his head violently, a deep, frustrated groan rumbling in his throat. "i hate it. i hate that i can only watch. please—"
you ignore the plea. you slide your fingers home. the movement is slow, wet, and direct.
jungwon cries out, a raw, needy sound of agony and pleasure. he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands flying up to grip the back of the passenger seat, his knuckles white. his entire body is shaking.
"don't look away," you command, your voice hard. "i told you to watch me. i want you to see how easy it is for me to get off when you're begging like this."
his eyes snap open, dark and tortured, fixed on your hand. he's breathing in shallow, panicked gasps.
you start to move your hand. slow, focused, relentless. you look down to see him rubbing himself through his boxers, grinning when you see the large wet spot.
seeing your face jungwon takes it as permission to touch himself, freeing himself of the restraints of spandex and allowing his hand to grip himself all while watching your fingers disappear into your cunt.
you watch mesmerized, the moonlight peaking through the window and directly on to the sweaty and whiny mess that was jungwon. your tongue darts out instinctively as you watch him fuck his fist, his thick cock pink as cum dribbles from his tip.
jungwon is completely undone. he starts to make frantic, whiny noises, choked little sounds of desperation that he can't control.
"fuck, fuck, you're so dirty," he manages, his voice thick with tears and lust. "stop—please—i can't—"
you increase the speed, your focus absolute, riding the high, needy energy radiating off him.
"you said you'd do anything," you remind him, moving your hips slightly to grind against the top of his head. "now beg me to stop. beg me to let you take over."
he lets out a broken, anguished sob, his composure completely gone. he doesn't know whether to grab you or run. he's completely helpless.
"i'm begging you!" he cries, the sound pathetic and raw. "please, i can't watch, i need to touch you—let me, please—i'll be good, i'll be quiet, just let me use my hands, i'm gonna explode—"
he's panting, shaking, tears streaming down his face as he watches you bring yourself to the brink again. he's utterly destroyed by his own subservience.
you use his breakdown as fuel, focusing entirely on your own pleasure, riding the intensity until the tremors start again.
just as you feel the your high approaching, you snap your head back and issue a final command, your voice rough with impending orgasm. "now, jungwon!"
he lets out a final, agonizing moan, arching his back violently against the seat, his hips slamming forward, eyes rolling back as he loses himself completely, spilling hot, messy release right against his boxer briefs.
you watch his flushed face, streaks of cum painting his hoodie and fist and you wish you could take a picture and have it engraved into you.
the car is silent except for the frantic, ruined sound of both of your gasping breaths. he collapses, his forehead hitting your inner thigh, trembling uncontrollably. he's spent, ruined, and completely gone.
"fuck," he whispers, his voice thick with tears and the sheer, overwhelming mess of his release. "i love you. i love that you did that to me."
his sudden words had you gasping, a deep flush covering you and you couldn't help but murmur the words back as you watched him jitter.
the intensity broke slowly, like a fever finally receding. jungwon slumped against you, his breathing ragged but evening out. the desperation was gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.
he didn't lift his head, just shifted until his cheek was resting against your collarbone, his arms settling around your waist in a loose, purely comforting hold. he was a heavy, dead weight in your lap.
"i'm so sleepy," he mumbled into your shirt, the words muffled and childish.
you ran a gentle hand over the damp hair at the back of his head. "i know. let's go home."
he sighed, a deep, shuddering sound of pure relief. "stay right here."
you didn't respond with words, just kept running your fingers through his hair. he closed his eyes, his breathing growing slow and even against your skin.
you swallow harshly as you begin to peel his grip off of you, attempting to retreat back to the drivers seat so you could drive back home.
after successfully doing so, you hazily pull up your shorts and start the car, glancing at jungwons sleeping form. a soft smile gracing your lips before a pit in your stomach begins to grow.
just as you were about to pull out from the side of the road, your eyes catch a figure sitting 10 feet away from your car on a bench. mouth agape and body tilted, the elderly man seemed completely and utterly shocked at whatever he had witnessed.
well fuck.
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
SUMMARY 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 you and niki agreed not to commit to each other, yet you couldn’t help but feel something more for him. the making out, the shared joints, and the car sex made the line between friendship and lovers blur. WC ˚ 2.6k ⋆｡˚ ⋆
˚𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ ⋆ WARNINGS smut 18+, dom!riki, caring!riki, college!au, friends w benefits, car sex, smoking pot, doggy style, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, a little foreplay, messy kissing, backshots, fingering, praising, moaning, crying, begging, teasing, niki talking u through it, a little fluff, pet names
NIKI HAD BEEN eyeing you for the past thirty minutes in class, noticing how drowsy you looked. Then came the: “Wanna get out of here?” monthly question, his lips tugging into a smirk.
You wouldn’t typically call Niki your friend, but you two do hang out from time to time, just casual late-night drives and all of that shit. He’d taught you a lot of things. And no, I’m not talking about calculus AB.
I’m talking about how to smoke weed, passing you his vape whenever you were in his car, pissed off at him because he was being a bitch to you.
And maybe he taught you how to ride, how to give a blowjob properly.. He was a lot of things to you, but never your friend. Just an “acquaintance” of yours.
Anyway, his fingers were already hooked in yours and dragging you out of class before you could answer.
The truck door slammed shut behind you both as Niki revved the engine way too loud for a school parking lot.
His truck reeked of cheap gas station cigarettes and bad decisions. Niki started driving away from the school, looking for an empty lot.
You opened the glove compartment, grabbing his weed and lighter. He just tapped against the steering wheel like he was already bored with driving.
“So,” he drawled around an exhaled side-eyeing you with that smirk still glued to his face. “You gonna tell me why you looked ready to pass out in chem today, or do I gotta guess?”
His free hand reached over without looking—knuckles brushing your knee before it slid higher to open his glove compartment to find his sunglasses.
You rolled your eyes but fumbled with the lighter anyway, sparking up his joint while Niki watched through half-lidded amusement.
“Guess,” you show back, taking a hit to blow smoke right in his face.
He coughed dramatically, fake offended, before snatching it from your fingers to take another drag himself.
He put his sunglasses on his crooked nose as he parked in an empty lot.
Niki leaned into your space suddenly; close enough that the weed scent clung to both of you like cheap truck leather and cologne.
”Tired ‘cause someone kept texting me at 3AM?” His thumb brushed over yours where it still gripped the joint.
You grabbed the joint back before he could tease you any more, inhaling more smoke than you intended—meaning a bigger cough just to keep it together.
“It was one time,” you lied easily, holding his stare and not thinking about the texts that’d probably give away the whole “more than friends” thing.
Niki’s lips curled up in denial, knowing damn well you’d sent like twelve texts the other night before he told you to shut up and go to sleep.
“Sure, ‘one time’ my ass,” he said, not bothering to hide how he was already leaning in closer to you.
The joint dangled forgotten from your fingers—for now, at least. So, he took the opportunity to shift even more into your space. “You missed me, right?”
Okay. When I said you wouldn’t call Niki your friend, I didn’t mean it like you didn’t know him.
In fact, you knew him well. Inside and out, for fucks sake—you guys were fucking. But you both are afraid of commitment, so it’s on and off.
You two hadn’t talked in about a month, and yesterday you called and texted him multiple times because you were high as shit.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” His hand slid up to snatch the joint from your slack grip before crushing it in his ashtray without even looking away from you.
”Yeah, I did. So what?”
Then his free arm hooks around you, yanking the handle to recline the passenger seat. “So, you get to ride me after begging for so long, happy?”
You barely even had the chance to respond before he dragged you into the backseats and dropped against them with you on his lap.
His hands took his sunglasses off and tossed them wherever, before they then found your waist—fingers flexing like hooks on your sides as he adjusted you to a better angle.
”You good?” He murmured against your skin, looking up at you.
Your breath hitched—partly from the way his fingers dug in softly, as if he was acting like this was the first time you guys had done something like this.
”Yeah,” you muttered back, rolling your hips experimentally to feel him tense beneath you.
His grip tightened reflexively; a quiet “fuck” escaped through his clenched teeth before he could stop it.
Oh my fuck. It’s like a switch flipped in Niki’s eyes the moment your hips rolled, and your clothes weren’t even fully off yet.
A strangled swear leaving those soft lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, hard enough you knew there’d be marks later.
His hand slid lower, one palming your ass while the other started to unbutton your shirt. “Better be,” he growled against your throat.
His breath was coming in shorter, sharper as his teeth scraped the side of your throat before finding the same sweet spot he’d made you gasp with before.
Niki’s hips were already moving against yours. A low groan echoed around the back of the truck as your fingers found his jaw—tilting his head for a better angle as he cursed against your lips again. “Mm— How I missed you- This..”
He took advantage of the movement, tongue slipping into your mouth with no apologies. “I missed you too.” You admit between sloppy kisses, then in a blur, Niki’s shirt was gone, leaving only flushed skin exposed in the dim truck light.
Your fingers hooked into his belt before he could even think to stop you. The click of the buckle being undone was obscenely loud in the cramped backseat, followed by Niki’s sharp exhale when your knuckles brushed against him through denim.
“Fuck..” His hips jerked up, chasing that contact like he couldn’t help himself.
“I haven't even taken off your pants yet,” you teased as he fidgeted with the zipper of your jeans, pulling them down for you in one go, and you were now exposed in front of him.
Niki’s gaze darkened—and you were pretty sure some of that had to be from the way you were looking at him.
“C’mon, don’t tease—I haven’t fucked you in so long,” he growled, thumb brushing just low enough to tease you back.
Your hips rolled against Niki’s hand through the fabric of your panties, chasing more pressure and friction as his thumb kept teasing.
“You want it this bad too, huh?”
His breath stuttered when you ground down harder—his thumb hooking into the damp fabric just to drag them aside with zero warning.
“Fucking hell..” Niki licked his lips, feeling the bare heat of your core.
He didn’t give you a second to overthink—his fingers slid through your pussy’s slick heat without warning, curling just right as his mouth crashed back onto yours.
The groan he swallowed was all yours; hips bucking against his hand like you could chase more friction if you tried hard enough.
“Mhm, that’s it, baby,” he growled as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Fuckin’ missed your pussy.”
His thumb circled your clit, before sinking two fingers in deep, harder this time. Niki let you take control with a smirk, fingers drawing back just enough to make way for you to set the pace.
His hands shifted to your hips, still gripping just hard enough to leave indents on your skin. “Fuck my fingers just how I taught you to.” He looked up at you with darkened eyes.
“Riki.. Mm—!” You groaned, your head buried in the crook of his neck. “Please, I.. I’m-“
”Shh,” His thumb brushed your clit almost absently, like your pleasure was almost as good for him as it was for you.
“Take what you need, baby.” You could ride his fingers as fast as you needed; he wasn’t going anywhere.
He loved how you’d fall apart on top of him. You rolled your hips up—down. You were setting a pace as fast as you wanted and your moans were mixed with his.
You could feel him everywhere—in the way he held you close, in the way his fingers knew just how rough you needed. It was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered.
”Just like that,” he murmured, eyes almost dark with how blown out they were. “You look pretty.”
“Riki,” you whined softly, still fucking his fingers at the rough pace but reaching for his pants again and tugging at them softly.
His eyes flicked to yours, “Yeah?” His mouth curved up into a smirk as he watched you struggle with his zipper. “You need a hand, hm?”
”Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your legs shake beneath you. “Just h- help me already.”
Niki just snickered in response, hand leaving your wet pussy to undo his jeans with ease.
It was hard not to watch that; you could feel your mouth going dry with anticipation when you saw his dick spring up against his stomach.
He caught you looking, and he smiled wider. “You’re staring, pretty girl.”
You couldn’t help the way your chest stuttered around a breath at his tone—he was staring right back at you in return, smug and knowing.
That nickname had no business sounding so good in that wrecked voice of his, either.
”You’re one to talk,” you snapped back, reaching to move a strand of hair out of his face without warning. “You look how you do.. and expect a girl to just not look?”
His laugh echoed around you, low and rough. “I'm not complaining.”
You couldn’t help the way your stomach swooped at his voice, fingers wrapping around him just to squeeze.
He shuddered, hips bucking slightly—just once. You were so good.
”Look at you. Touching me like you own me,” he teased, voice hoarse as you stroked him just once. “I like that.”
You rolled your eyes—but you couldn't argue that. The look on his sexy face would’ve had you agreeing to everything.
”Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You squeezed again, feeling him twitch in your hand. “If you were really mine?”
Niki’s expression darkened, head tipping back against the seat suddenly. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “You have no idea.”
He didn’t even breathe before you were sinking into him—both of you gasping in unison as he bottomed out inside you.
His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging into your skin once more.
“Fuck—ohmygod,” he chanted under his breath, head slamming back against the seat as you rolled your hips, once, twice.
The truck creaked dangerously with every movement; Niki’s curses got louder when you finally found a rhythm that had his eyes rolling shut.
“That’s it—that.. pace, f— fuck!” He moaned loudly, the windows fogging up around you guys. “Ride me just.. just like that—”
His hands were everywhere—one gripping your bare ass to yank you down harder on his cock, while the other slid up to your bra to lift it and thumb at your hard nipple.
“Riki—! You- Mm.. feel so good, baby…” You practically cried out.
“Mhm, look at you,” he panted, watching how every snap of your hips made your tits bounce right in front of his face.
“Fucking me like you mean it—! Mhh! Fuck— Just how I taught you..” His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips before biting down on them hard. He was starving for your breasts.
The truck seat squealed beneath both of you, Niki cursing when the headrest knocked against the window with each rough thrust upwards into you.
“You’re so good.. Gonna make me cum already—fucking hell..” His teeth found your tits, leaving marks.
He felt you shaking on top of him, “Are you tired, baby?” He groaned beneath clenched teeth. You could only work out a nod, still riding him at the same pace as if you couldn’t get enough.
So, Niki didn’t even ask twice—just hooked his hands under your thighs and flipped you onto your stomach with one rough shove.
He then moved you softly onto the reclined passenger seat. The truck seat groaned in protest as he yanked your hips back, forcing you onto all fours.
“Riki,” you cried out.
”Come on,” he growled against the shell of your ear, palm smacking down on your bare ass. “You know how I like it.”
The second his wet cock pressed against your dripping heat from behind, Niki immediately slammed inside of you with one brutal thrust, and it punched a cry right out of your throat.
“F-fuck—! Riki!”
He didn’t care that the truck seat creaked dangerously under your combined weight—just fucked you harder when you screamed his name like a prayer.
His hands locked around your hips and ass, fingers pressing bruises as he thrusted up into you with zero rhythm left; just raw, desperate thrusts.
”Yes— That’s it, beg for me..” He snarled when your back arched deeper for him.
“Take every fucking inch like the pretty girl you are.” The slap of skin echoed around the car, the heat inside had his abs dripping with sweat.
Niki’s free hand fisted your hair to yank your head back so he could watch tears spill down your cheeks.
His pace turned feral at the sight—chasing his own release as his pistoned into you hard enough to shove the truck seat forward an inch with every thrust.
“Gonna cum,” he gritted out, “Right fuckin’ now.” His fingers dug in like claws when your walls silenced around him.
A broken groan tore from his throat as he spilled deep inside you. “Your pussy missed that, hm?”
But Niki wasn’t even close to done.
He pulled out and flipped you over, not even giving you time to react before he was inside you again, his fingers relentless—circling your clit in rough, perfect strokes as his cock stayed buried to the hilt inside you.
“Come on,” he growled against your neck, teeth scraping your skin as he hovered above you, kissing your neck softly. “I know you want to finish. Squirt all over me.”
And then it hit—your back arched violently; a cry ripping from somewhere deep in your chest as pleasure crashed all over your body. “Oh my god—!”
Niki smiled, kissing your moans before teasing your clit before he pulled out, swiping his fingers right at your core.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. “So good.”
You hated it, all of it.
You hated how he knew how to get you to finish at an instant. How he knew where all of the birthmarks on your bare body were.
Yet you loved it at the same time.
He brought his head down to your wet pussy, his nose teasing at the opening. Niki just licked at your folds softly, taking his damn time.
He let each brush of his tongue have you trembling around him. “Tastes so damn sweet.”
Niki didn’t pull away just yet—just pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before hauling himself up with a groan.
His hands were gentler now as they slid over sweat-damp skin, thumbs brushing forming on your hips in quiet apology.
“Are you okay, baby? You’ve been so quiet.” He muttered against your shoulder as you sat down next to him.
“Just tired, I think,” you smiled softly as he reached for the blanket under the driver's seat, covering you.
The truck seat creaked when he put your head onto yours, fingers idly tracing circles on your bare hip.
“We’re gonna need to find better places to do this,” you muttered with a wince as your ass shifted on the uncomfortable seat. “My back’s already gonna be killing me tomorrow.”
“My bed, next, yeah?” Niki hums, shifting his head to bury his face in your hair and kissing it a few times.
You chuckled, “Really? Looks like someone’s warming up to me, I get bed privileges.”
Niki’s laugh rumbled against your shoulder, one hand moving to tickle along your ribs in punishment. “Well, it’d be a lie if I said I didn’t care about you. More than friends, and more than lovers.”
"it'll be fun, c'mon jake live a little." they say.
JAKE, who stays in his room all day, drowns himself in quantum theories and avoids social gatherings all together.
but going out of your comfort zone couldn't hurt anyone right?
he regrets everything the second he walked into the club. the stench of booze, the blinking lights surrounding his vision — it was a different environment that he was used to.
the low yet earth shaking bass reverberates the entire scene: people grinding against each other, some making out near the stalls, some situated in booths watching dancers swaying to the music, their bodies fluid to the rhythm, flowing like water.
he was already missing his room and being buried deep into the textbooks with questions that gave him the adrenaline but not this type of adrenaline. the type that makes him excited to unravel what happens next like the process of solving equations that makes him want to keep doing it, just like how the feeling of sex was too addicting to let go.
JAKE, who walks into the private booth, closing his eyes and lips pressed into a line while his thoughts were shouting at him.
oh god, oh god, oh god…
he gently sits on the couch with tense muscles and a flustered face. the faint music in the background muffles with his thoughts, refusing to make any eye contact with you while he prays to himself for what he was about go through. he blames his friends for setting up but maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be….right?
"o-oh f-fu-ck!" he watches the way you sink down onto his dick, his pupils dilating as his brain starts to get all fuzzy, glasses almost falling off his face. he was incredibly hard, dick stiff and sensitive to the bone. his mind was turning into goo, couldn't form a single thought as the tightness of your pussy was messing with his brain. every thought, every word completely short circuits whenever your entrance would massage the base of his shaft and his aching tip.
"o-oh g-god…" your pussy was taking him with such ease, watching the way both your juices mix together like an experiment.
his hand never left his mouth, muffled moans were begging to escape as you started to pick up the pace. "h-holy s-sh-hit.." he clenches his eyes shut, trying to avoid your gaze but if anything, he felt even worse, his mind was forcing him to imagine, to relish in the feeling. "m-miss — p-p-please — s-slow d-down..!" he tried to utter words but the pace you were going at, his words just sounded like broken moans, vocal cords left hoarse and cracked as every pound made his voice stammer with roughness. you softly moan as his dick was hitting all your weak spots, giving your cervix a kiss whenever his tip would make contact with the pit of your entrance.
the sounds of your moans and the skin slapping echoes throughout the quiet room, the hot breaths fusing together making the scene much more intense. his hair that was slightly messy, was now even messier, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, all fogged up from the stimulation. "m-miss i'm g-gonna—" he cums, deep inside your pussy, puddles threatening to leak out of your hole.
fuck how was he gonna recover from this.
૮ • ﻌ - ა
"yo do you think he's ok?"
"speaking of him, he's coming over here — let's ask him." his friends spot jake, approaching them with stumbling feet and a disheveled state.
"hey man — whoa you good dude?" they take in jake's state, glasses crooked, hair less messy but still ruffled up and lipstick marks scattered on his cheeks and the valley of his neck.
"good? why wouldn't I be?" he smiles.
lolli: you've completed the objective! what's your plan now?
pussyobsessed!riki who leaves you with a dark pink, raw pussy almost every night.
pussyobsessed!riki who has to be banned every few days from touching, licking, or fucking you. he literally cannot stay away from how warm and wet your folds are otherwise.
pussyobsessed!riki who doesn’t even try to make you cum half of the time. he’s just touching to touch.
pussyobsessed!riki who will have his fingers knuckle deep into your pussy, lazily pumping them in and out while watching a movie. definitely the type to laugh at you when you manage to cum, despite how slow he’s going.
pussyobsessed!riki who LOVES cockwarming. nothing makes him happier than waking up to the warm comfort of you around him.
pussyobsessed!riki who is a certified munch. he’ll wake you up with his head in between your legs. he’ll eat you out from behind after bending you over the kitchen counter. he’ll even lay on the damn floor and won’t get up until you sit on his face.
pussyobsessed!riki who’s obsessed with trying different positions. he wants your pussy from every angle possible.
pussyobsessed!riki who’s worst nightmare is your period. well, was. now he fucks you whether your bleeding or not.
pussyobsessed!riki who your clit HATES to see coming. his hand is literally rubbing on her 90% of the time you’re with him. even casually in the middle of a conversation, his hand will sneak under the waistline of your panties, gently rub onto your folds, and start circling around your clit. all while laughing casually about whatever the two of you are talking about.
pussyobsessed!riki who gets put on pussy ban whenever he overstimulates you to the point where it genuinely hurts the next day.
pussyobsessed!riki who had gotten SO good at aftercare. he’s become completely in tune with what your body needs and how to make you feel as loved as possible. definitely carries you to the bathroom so you can pee (PLEASE PEE AFTER SEX THE UTI IS NOT WORTH IT), orders food, and puts on a movie to help you fall asleep.
[ youre such a bratty girl , you got sent to a summer camp when , meeting christian boy jake who puts you in your place . ]
WRITING 𓈒 PWP , MINOR DNI , , dom jake , p in v , no protection (dont b silly wrap ur willy!!) , jealousy , reader dumbification , dirty talk (?) , teasing , pussy slapping , sir kink , nicknames: baby, whore, good girl + , fingering , creamepie , dacryphilia , spit kink , slight handjob , religious themes (hence the name...) 𓏵
wc: 7k
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you stood at the camp with your neon pink duffle bag, the one your parents got you as soon as you turned 18. the hot pink sandals against the dirt make you grimace.
your mother's brilliant idea that a summer at bible camp would “help you find your focus.” in reality, just saying, “you need jesus.”
as soon as you took another step into the campgrounds, you knew you had made the wrong choice of listening to your parents. the air smelled like trees and mud, something you weren't used to with the way you doused yourself in coconuts and roses.
you adjust the strap of the duffle bag, eyes scanning the seas of khaki shorts and plain t-shirts. making you pout slightly as you realised none of them had style! you could’ve been suntanning on the beach with your best friends, but no, you’re at a bible camp because your parents think you’re a sinner.
as you huffed to yourself, grabbing your smartphone from your shorts' waistband and sliding it up for any sort of signal. anything at all! you didnt even notice the boy approach you quietly, holding a well-used bible in one hand while slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“you cant be serious.” the low voice, both laced with mock and disbelief, made you break out of your thoughts. his face was sculpted like he was god’s favourite, and his hair was almost messily hot, and he was right in front of you with raised eyebrows.
“about what?” you asked with a tilted head, popping the bubble gum in your mouth. “oh, my bag? It’s victoria secret’s pink 2007 line!”
a small, almost pained sigh escaped his lips. “no,” he stated, voice flat. “not the damn bag. the phone. you won't get any signal here,” he said, shaking his head, glancing around the wooden land. “we’re in a valley, it’s basically a dead zone,” his voice was sarcastic at the end, as if he was stating the obvious.
you gasped, snapping the phone shut with a loud slapping noise, the hopes of texting your friends a cry for help now disappearing into the thin air. “what! seriously?” you whined, stomping lightly as the sole of your sandals hit the dirt. “what is this, the dark ages? come on, it’s 2008!”
he raised his eyebrows at your short tantrum, almost amused that you’d even be shocked there wasn't any signal. rolling his eyes as he heard you speak.
“and you’d know this cause…?” you asked, squinting at him, your sharp, freshly painted nails pointing at him.
he held up the bible in his hand as if it was a clear answer. “if you couldnt tell, which clearly you couldnt, i’ve been coming here for six summers in a row.” he hummed, “‘m sim jaeyun, jake, one of your senior mentors.” his eyes trailing up and down your body, from the hot pink sandals, up to your matching hot pink shorts and white studded belt, finally resting on your face with an expression you couldnt place.
it wasn't disgust, exactly. it was more like he was trying to solve why water was created. “and, sadly im your mentor. welcome to cedars bible camp.”
your nose scrunched at the name of the camp, “cedar? does it, like, smell like old wood? because im allergic to dust. and… plain dressed people.”
the corner of his mouth twitched in annoyance. it was the tiniest, weakest movement, but it was there. “no, it smells like pine, and it’s your home for the next four weeks.” he hummed, turning around and walking towards the cabins.
he didnt even offer to take your bags! what a dick.
you scrambled after him with a pout, your puffy lips sticking out and grimacing as your sandals slipped on the loose dirt. “hey, wait up!! dont you guys have, like, a welcome wagon? anything, like fruits? my bag is heavy!”
jake didn't even bother to slow down at your words, only glancing over his shoulder towards your body and face. “the welcome is the beauty of god’s creations,” his tone practised and a fake patience, “the fruit’s is a spiritual nourishment you could receive.”
you batted your lashes with a furrowed brow, struggling to keep up behind him. “so, no actual fruit? because i skipped breakfast for, like, my lip gloss and lashes!”
this time, he actually stopped. fully turning to face you, his expression a mask of patience, even if it was cracking slowly. “what’s your name?”
“y/n.” you hummed with a smile, using your nail on your index finger to pull out your gum.
“y/n.” he repeated with a fake smile, that never reached his eyes. “this is going to be a long four weeks.”
your eyes beamed at his words, completely missing the dread in his voice. “i know, right?” you groaned, finally catching up to him. “four weeks without a mall or pilates is, like, a human rights violation.” you chirpped, flicking your now slightly dissolved gum away into the bushes nearby. “my parents so owe me.”
jakes eyes widened in horror at the sight, lingering on the pink substance in the bush. “did… did you just… litter in god’s creation?”
tilting your head, your eyes followed his gaze, and looked back at him with a genuine confusion. “what? it’s probably biodegradable, it's, like, fruit-flavoured. animals would eat it later.” you hummed, as if it would solve everything.
his undereye twitched as he stared at you for a long, silent moment, the muscle in his jaw faltering. he seemed to be restraining himself for spitting back a sarcastic remark. in the end, he let out a long, slow breath, as if exhaling all his hopes for a peaceful summer. “right. this way.” he turned back on his heel and started walking again, his strides even quicker than before.
you skipped behind him, mind already moving on. “so, yunnie–can i call you yunnie? whats the wifi like here? is it, like, password protected?” you asked, sliding open your smartphone, hands instantly on the keypad. “is the password ‘jesus?’ thats always the password at our church.”
“no wifi.” he said bluntly, words final.
your steps falter and your smile dropped with widening eyes. “no wifi? what! how am i supposed to call my girls! how do i update my myspace? this has to be a violation!” you whined.
“it’s a retreat, not a five star hotel,” he countered, not even sparing a look towards you. “it’s about retreating from the world, and the internet.”
you pout at his words, “you’re so boring! what do you even do here?” you groaned. finally landing eyes on the rustic wooden cabin in front of you, with a sloppy paint job of a sign that reads cedar. it looked… old.
“woah, is this like… the things war houses or something? it looks historically preserved. does it have plumbing? cause if i have to pee in a hole, we’ll have lots of problems.”
jake pushed the creaky doors open, revealing a simple room with bunk beds and a single, small window. there was absolutely no decorations, not even a wardrobe! “it has plumbing,” he said, voice monotone. “you’re on the top bunk,” he pointed to a bare, stained mattress in the far corner.
you dropped your dufflebag with a dramatic thud and sigh, sending dust flying into the air. “the top? but what if i have to peee! i’m a hugee sleepwalker, everyone knows that!”
“sounds like a you problem.” jake mumbled, setting down his own backpack neatly by the bottom bunk, placing the well worn out bible on the wooden crate that served it as a nightstand.
with a pout, you watched him, as the cogs turned in your heel clattered mind, eyes lighting up. “hey, yunnie? since you’re my ‘mentor’” you hummed, drawing out the nickname, sweetinging every word with honey. “does that mean you have to, like, help me with eeverryything?”
he froze, back still faced to you. taking a shaky inhale, he slowly turned, his expression unreadable. “within reason… yes, and it’s jake.”
you battered the flash eyelashes you wore, plastering on the best ‘helpless’ face you could. “perfect! so, you can help me make my bed? i’ve never learned how. and these… sheets? they look scratchy…” you poked the slightly stained sheets with your fresh nails. “also, i have no dea what any of this bible stuff means. you’re going to, like, need to explain it to me. alot!”
you swore you saw jake’s jaw drop at his words. his eyes scanning your whole body in disbelief, from your manicured fingernails, to your utterly clueless face, to your chest which was closed in by the thin fabric of your bra and white tank to, and then to the ceiling, as if he was seeking for any divine intervention out there.
when none came, he closed his eyes for a brief second, probably saying a prayer to himself. only to be cut off by the first dinner bell ringing, a loud sound that made you jump and squeal.
“saved by the bell,” he muttered to himself. "come on, time for grace. try not to mess this up?”
you hummed as you skipped to fall into step beside him, mood instantly lifting as you forgot the previous conversation. “grace? is she, like, a girl here? is she nice?”
jake just walked faster, heading towards the dining hall with his head held down in embarrassment.
—
the dining hall was filled with scraping chairs and loud voices, the low ceiling making everything echo. the smell of overcooked green beans and stale sandwiches hitting your nose instantly. you trailed behind jake, who moved through the crowd with ease, receiving nods and quiet ‘hey, man’s’ from other guys who looked similar to him.
he grabbed two trays, handing one to you without a word (one of the nicest things hes done these few hours of knowing him.) you stared at the lumpy mashed potatoes, the suspiciously shiny fried chicken, and the single, sad-looking dinner roll.
“uhm, ikeu?” you whispered, leaning close. “is this, like, the punishment part, y’know, for my sins?”
his nose scrunched at the strong smell of your coconut and roses perfume. “no, it’s food. fuel for the body.” he said, moving with the line. “take some, and keep the line moving.”
you pouted softly, yet complied. sliding a single piece of chicken, which you swore was plastic, onto your plate with the tips of your nails. “if my skin breaks out, my mom is so getting sued.”
you followed him to a long table packed with other mentors and their ‘disciples’, they all looked the same. the conversations around filled with the same thing, “what church are you from?” and “i really connected psalm!” you stuck out like a sore thumb.
you sat down next to jake, placing your tray down with a clatter that made a few people around you jump. looking around to smile at people who stared at you, until a small bell chimed.
everyone around you is bowing their heads, with jake closing his eyes.
what are they doing? you were so confused.
a boy across you, one with fox-like eyes and plump lips, cleared his throat. “jake, would you want to do the honours?
jake pried one of his eyes open, a look of sincerity falling over those hard features of his. “oh, of course, sunoo. let us pray.”
of course you were utterly confused, praying for what? as you were about to open your mouth to ask, his voice beat you to it. “heavenly Father, we thank you for this fellowship, for the bounty before us, and for the new friends you have brought to our table…"
while the whole table prayed, you pouted out of boredom. pulling out your smartphone just under the table, trying to get signal. absolutely nothing. you sighed, noticing the boy to your right, he vampire looking teeth, peek at you.
letting out a soft giggle, you smiled and winked at him, making him flush a deep red and snap his eyes tightly you saw wrinkles form around his pretty nose.
"…bless this food to our bodies, and our bodies to your service. Amen."
a chorus of amens carried around the table as you placed your phone back into your waistband, picking up the fork and poking at the plastic looking chicken. “so, yunnie,” you hummed, voice cutting through the post-prayer silence. “whats, like, the deal with the one roll rule? is there some sorta shortage in carbs here?”
jake sighed, taking a slow bite of his mushy green beans. "it's so everyone gets one."
"but what if, like, i really need two?" you pressed, fluttering your lashes. "y’know? for my complexion?”
the boy beside you choking on the mashed potatoes at your words
jake finally turned to look at you, his patience visibly cracking under all your words. "there is a basket in the centre of the table for a reason. if you really need another roll, then you may ask politely when everyone has been served."
“ohh, okay! got it.” you yipped, not waiting for another second. leaning across his plate, your chest practically brushing against his hands as you snagged another role. “i politely ask for you!” you hummed, before placing the basket back into the centre with a satisfied smile.
a quick silence fell over the end of your table, the only sound being choked sputterers from people around, who was now being patted on the back.
jake didnt move, nor did he yell. he just stared at your tray, slowly rising his head to look at you. the fake patience he had, now gone, was replaced be a chilling calm intensity. the sound of his fork against the wooden surface echoes in your ear.
“y/n.” he said, voice dangerously soft, leaning in close. too close. enough that you could smell the musky scent of his cologne. “did you know that in john 6:35, jesus declares, ‘i am the bread of life’?” his gaze was heavy, but it wasn't just about verse anymore. it was like a challenge, a dare. “he’s talking about spiritual sustenance, clearly the kind you lack severely.”
you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him, thats how close he was. the way he spoke felt like a cover for something else, hotter and more impatient. “so, by all means, take all the bread you want,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your chest for a heartbeat. “but, it wont fill the hunger you’re trying to ignore.”
a shiver rushed down your spine, you felt like he was undressing you with his eyes. all you could manage was a weak nod, your eyes wide and fixed on his. holding his gaze into your own eyes for a second longer than needed, before leaning back, his posture returning to its perfect, like the good christian boy he was.
you sat there, face flushed that it appeared through your make-up, the two rolls on your plate staring back at you. your mind clouded as conversations around you resumed, a single, perfect dinner roll was placed deliberately in the centre of your plate.
you looked up, startled. jake wasnt looking at you. he was listening to someone else, you never realised how handsome his side profile was. but, his message was clear: this was a gift, from me, because I decide what you need.
you stared at the roll on your plate for longer, before mumbling a “thank you” your voice barely audible.
he didn't acknowledge it with words.,but the slight, approving tilt of his head sent another jolt through you.
you had come to camp just to suck up to your mom and dad since they sent you here for being such a party animal, who would've thought you'd met someone who made you want to act like a good girl, just for him.
—
the next few days were a blur, your mission to rebel against your parents changed in a minute. something else sparked your mind, a new objective that was way more interesting. getting jake to like you.
or at least, to stop looking at you like you were an alien.
you followed him like a puppy.
when he led the morning devotional by the lake, you plopped yourself right in the front, grimacing how the dew was ruining your new hollister skirt.
“eugh! ikeu, whats around my skirt?” you questioned, interrupting his readings with a scrunched nose. “it's, like, all wet, and it's totally ruining my new skirt. did someone, like, come and spray the grass with a water bottle last night?"
jake, who had been trying to explain the morning light, stopped mid-sentence. the entire circle turning to look at you, a few biting their lips to keep from laughing, and a few with annoyance on their faces.
he took a slow, deep breath, the kind you were starting to recognise as his lord, give me strength breath. "no," he said, his voice straining for patience. "no one sprayed the grass."
"then where did it come from?" you pressed, genuinely confused by how there was sudden water on the grass. "is it, like, grass sweat? because that's kinda gross."
someone next to you let out a snort.
jake closed his eyes for a brief second, chanting to himself that he needed to keep calm. "it's condensation," he explained, as if talking to a very small child. "the air gets cold at night, and the water vapour in the air turns into liquid on the cold grass."
you stared at him blankly, head tilted like a puppy. "so, the sky… spits on us while we're sleeping?"
a wave of giggles erupted from the group. jakes carefully composed facade cracked completely, and he just stared at you, his mouth slightly agape, utterly defeated by your logic. he couldnt believe what he was hearing.
"sure," he finally said, giving up entirely. "let's go with that. the sky spits on us. let's move on to psalm 19."
“okay, ikeu!” you smiled as he continued to speak, you weren't listening to the verses; you were just watching his lips move. it was weirdly hypnotic.
your mind filled with how plump his lips looked, and how’d they look on your own, and around your bod-
"y/n," his voice cut through your daze. everyone was looking at you. "could you read proverbs 4:23 for us?" he hummed, eyes softer than usual. you blinked, putting on your best 'oh, yeah i was listening' face.
you held up the bible he gave you. "is it in, like, the table of contents? 'm not really sure how this thing works." you fluttered the pages helplessly, red in the face of how you got caught.
a few people giggled at your antics, as jake's expression stayed neutral, but you swore saw his jaw get a little tight. "above all else, guard your heart," he quoted, his eyes pinning you in place, "for everything you do flows from it."
“wow, ikeu, that’s, like, really deep.” you breathed out, eyes wide at those words. “so, like, if my heart really wants a raspberry slushy, my feet should follow its flow into 7-11?” you smiled, genuinely pleased with your interpretation, you really used your brain for that.
jake just stared at you for a second time, before turning back to the group to mumble a quiet, “let’s continue.”
later that afternoon, for god knows what, everyone decided to play capture the flag. you stood on your heels as your team captain, jake, gathered everyone in a huddle for a way to discuss their strategy.
you tried to look serious, nodding along to wherever he pointed on a hand-drawn map, even if you didnt know what he was talking about. “okay, guys,” jake said, his voice all serious, making your stomach do flips. “sunoo, you stay on the edge from the best. riki, you’re our best runner, you get the flag.” he hummed, eyes finally meeting yours. “y/n..”
your eyes sparkled like he was a new edition of the chloe paddington bag collection.
he looked you up and down, noticing how you were white miniskirt that showed your thong and a crop top that was just a second bra. “i have a special, very important job for you. you’ll be our secret weapon.”
you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. "me? a secret weapon?"
"yes. your role is to be the distraction," he announced to the group.
he pointed to a wide, sunny clearing right in the centre of the playing field. "i need you to stand right there.in the open. and look very noticeable. if the other team sees you, their focus will change onto you and we can get that flag."
you were practically jumping in excitement. he saw you as a weapon, a noticeable one! "i can do that! 'm, like, the most noticeable person here!" you chirped, already planning how to pose.
"perfect. don't move from that spot," he commanded, and your heart did a little flip at his bossy tone.
as the game started, you took your position in the centre of the field, striking poses, one hand on your hip, flipping your hair.
at first, you practically yawned as you watched people, who actually cared about the game, play. but then, a boy from the other team, sunghoon, cute, confident guy you'd noticed earlier, ran past.
only to skidded to a halt, and did a double-take, and completely forgot he was holding the flag. “woah, hey there,” he said with raised eyebrows and a smirk.
you gave him a wave, one people would say was flirty while you called it normal. "ohmygod, hi! you're, like, really fast."
he leaned against a tree, abandoning his mission entirely. "yeah, you think? you're not quiet exactly dressed for the capture the flag.” he hummed, eyes undress you in his mind.
you giggled at his words before striking another pose. "'m dressed for being a distraction!"
it worked better than jake could have ever imagined. soon, not one, but three boys from the opposing team had found excuses to "patrol" near your clearing, all of them craving and yearning for your attention, laughing at your dumb jokes, and completely neglecting the game.
from his hiding spot at the edge of the woods, jake watched. his plan had worked well.
too well.
he noticed sunghoon say something that made you throw your head back and laugh. he saw the way the boys were looking at you, their eyes trailing over your legs, your smile.
his own team's strategy was falling apart because his "distraction" was a little too effective.
his neutral masked expression, now dissolving into a scowl. his jaw clenched so tight it ached. this wasnt part of the plan.
when his team lost, the flag was stolen while more than half the players were ogling you, jake didn't even debrief.
he stomped directly across the field toward you, his mind clouded and racing with rage, not at you but at the boys all around you.
the boys scattered instantly, seeing his face.
“ikeu!” you beamed, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “did you see? i distracted, like, everybody! we totally won, right?"
he stopped right in front of you, his body blocking out the sun. “hey, the sun! it’s going to ruin my tan!” you pouted at him.
he was close, his voice a low growl meant only for you. "you distracted too well," he said, his eyes burning with an unreadable heat that had nothing to do with the game.
"the mission was to win, not to start a fucking fan club."
you blinked up at him, your smile faltering at his intensity, eyebrows furrowing in a slight sadness. "but, ikeu… you said to be noticeable…"
"i said to be a distraction for the other team," he corrected, his gaze dropping to your chest once again, for a split second before snapping back up. "not a temptation for the entire camp!"
he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "from now on, you stick by me. no prancing around by yourself in those tiny outfits of yours. understood?"
his possessiveness sent a thrill straight down your spine, and all you could do was nod, a slow, dazed smile returning to your face. “okay, ikeu!”
—
by the next morning, you took jakes words more seriously than any decision you had to make in your life (like if you should buy panties from fredericks of hollywood or victoria secrets). as everyone gathered for the stale breakfast, you sat by his side the moment he put his tray down, so close your arms brushed each other.
he stiffened up at the feeling of your skins touching each other, but didnt tell you to move. he never did.
as everyone finished, the counsellor announced the chore assignments. “y/n, you’ll be working on lake duty with sunoo, cleaning up the kayaks and–”
before you could even breath, jake’s voice, calm but intimidating, cut through the air. “actually, she's with me, i need her help inventorying the supply shed." it was a lie, and everyone, including the counselor, knew it. but no one dared to question jake.
the supply shed was dark, dusty and smelled of moldy wood and old gasoline. it was so overwhelming it even covered your perfume smell of coconut and roses.
“ikeuuu, this is so boring.” you whined, tracing small doodles onto the dust of the boxes next to you.
“focus, y/n.” he said, back still turned to you as he counted paddles, yet you noticed the way his shoulders tensed up, the way he'd been quiet all morning.
with a huff, you decided to help for once. you reached for a box on a high shelf, standing on your tiptoes. "oof, it's heavy!"
in a flash, he was behind you.
his arms reached around you, his chest pressing against your back as he easily lifted the box down.
he didn't step away. You were caged between him and the shelf, surrounded by his scent of amber and musky tangling with his warmth.
"did you have fun yesterday?" he murmured, his voice low and right by your ear. "with sunghoon?" the name making him practically feel venom creep in his veins.
your brain, for once, went completely silent except for the frantic beating of your heart.
you turned your head slightly, your cheek almost brushing his. "huh?"
"while you were being so… noticeable," he continued, and his tone wasn't angry. it was something else, something dark and curious. "did you like all that attention? whoring around and flaunting your body for everyone else?"
you finally spoke up, your voice coming out as a whisper. "i was just doing what you told me to do."
he was silent for a long moment. you could feel his breath on your neck. "i know," he said finally. "that's the problem, you listen to me so well."
he stepped back abruptly, mind snapping him out of that trance. the cool air rushed to fill the space where he had been.
"we're done here," he stated, his voice back to its normal, controlled tone, but a little rougher around the edges, like he admitted something he shouldnt have.
he walked out of the shed, leaving you alone in the cool air and dim light, your entire body buzzing. what was tonight going to be like?
the bonfire that night was the biggest social event of the week. flames flickered at the dark sky, and the air was thick with the smell of smoke and roasted marshmallows.
you’d been strategically avoiding sunghoon and jake all day after the shed incident, but he found you instantly, patting the log next to him with a charming smile.
“saved you a seat, distraction.”
glancing at jake, who was deep in conversation with who you now know as, heeseung, on the far side of the fire, you figured it was safe.
you plopped down next to sunghoon, accepting the slightly burnt marshmallow he offered you.
“so, you and jake, huh?” sunghoon asked, nudging you playfully. “he’s been staring daggers at me all day.”
“what? no, he hasn’t,” you giggled, though the thought sent a thrill through you. “he’s just my… uhm.. whats it called..?”
“mentor?”
“yeah! that, he’s, just like, super serious about… everything.”
“i’m not serious,” sunghoon said, leaning closer, his voice dropping. “we could have a lot more fun.” of course you werent that naive, you knew what he meant.
you were mid-giggle, lips opening as you were about to say something, when a shadow fell over you both.
jake stood there, the fire carving harsh angles into his face.
his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
the air around him was cold enough to extinguish the large camp fire.
“y/n. cabin. now,” his voice was a low, and demanding.
sunghoon, to his credit, didn’t back down. “calm down, man. we’re just talking. the night’s young.”
that was the worst thing to say in this situation.
jakes control snapped, it wasn't loud. it was terrifyingly quiet.
“you think this is a game?” he hissed, his gaze locked on sunghoon, though the question felt like it was for you.
“do you think shes a game?” he took a step forward, his body coiled tight. “you look at her again, and i will make sure you spend the rest of this retreat scrubbing skid marks with a toothbrush. do you understand me?”
the entire campfire had gone dead silent.
you could hear the crackle of the flames and nothing else. everyone was staring and listening.
sunghoon paled, holding his hands up in surrender. “jake, come on, man–”
“everyone. leave,” jake commanded, his voice brooking no argument.
he never once took his eyes off sunghoon.
no one moved for a second until the sound of a twig broke in the distance. snapping everyone back to reality, the campers scrambled to their feet and scattered back to their own cabins, leaving their half-eaten s’mores behind.
in moments, it was just the three of you by the fire.
you sat frozen, your heart hammering against your throat.
jake finally turned his gaze to you, one that could burn a hole through you. before you could even form a word, he closed the distance in two long strides, hooking a strong arm around your legs, and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
“jake!” you squealed, the world flipping upside down. hands flailed against the solid muscle of his lower back.
he didn’t answer.
he just started walking, his steps firm, carrying you away from the fire and a stunned Sunghoon.
“put me down! this is, like, totally uncalled for!” you whined, but you made no real effort to struggle.
the feeling of his arm locked securely around your thighs, the dominance of the act, was making your head spin.
he didn’t say a word the entire walk back to the cabin.
he shouldered the door open, stepping inside and threw you onto his bottom bunk, hovering over you while his hands lingering on your waist for a moment too long.
the cabin was dark and silent, the only light coming from the moon through the small window.
his chest heaving, not from exertion, but from pure, raw emotion. his eyes, wild in the dim light.
“you think it was good to go against my rules? being such an attention whore, you couldn't listen to one single thing i said.” he scoffed, voice harsh.
pinned underneath him, the coarse fabric of his blanket scratching against your bare arms. his words shouldve hurted, but all you could do was focus on the heat radiating from his body, the way his thighs caged you in, the scent of his cologne now ten times stronger.
“i- i, was just doing what you said–” you breathed out, your voice shaky, a blush on your face hidden by the dark.
a low, guttural sound escaped his throat. “don’t,” he warned, his face inches from yours. “don’t play dumb with me. not now. not when you’re looking at me like that.”
his hand came up, his thumb brushing roughly against your bottom lip, smudging your gloss. the sticky sensation on his thumb sending shivers down his spine.
“he was sitting too close,” jake snarled, voice low and venomous. his thumb pressed harder, dragging down the gloss from your chin, while the other slowly goes to tangle in your hair. “did you like it? the way he looked at you like he wanted to eat you? the way he wanted to fuck you infront of everyone?”
you gasped at his words, trying to shake your head in denial, but his grip in your hair just too tight it was enough to keep you stilled. “n-no, ikeu– i–”
“he doesnt know what you need,” his stern voice cutting you off as his lip gloss covered thumb traveled down your body, sliding from your chest, to your waist, to your back to pull you flushed against him. you could practically feel his frantic heartbeat match your own. “he doesn’t know that you need someone to tell you what to do, that you need to be told when you’re being a brat.”
his words should have offended you, but they just made your knees weak. his anger getting you hot and heavy.
“he was laughing at my jokes,” you whispered, the confession spilling from your lips.
jake’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing in them. “i’m not laughing,” he growled, his lips hovering so close to yours you could almost taste his breath. “do I look like I’m laughing?”
you shook your head, your eyes wide and fixed on his.
he didn't kiss you.
he just stayed there, a breath away, making you feel the full, crushing weight of his jealousy and his want.
fFrom the moment you got here with your pink bag and your stupid gum, it’s been me. you’re my responsibility. my burden. mine.” he growled, his voice dropped to a possessive whisper that made your stomach clench.
the word hung in the air between you.
before you could even process it, he closed the final inch of space.
his kiss wasn't gentle.
it was a claim.
a punishment and a reward all at one.
it was all teeth and desperation and the faint, clean taste of mint warring with the campfire smoke on his lips. one hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back, while the other gripped your hip, holding you still beneath him.
you let out a surrendering whine as your hands came up to clutch at his shirt. this is what he wanted, what you wanted. you were right where you belonged, to have the good, holy boy come completely, undone because of you.
when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. his eyes were begging for more.
“you will listen to me,” he murmured, his voice raw and wrecked. “you will stop talking to sunghoon. you wont go running around like a whore for attention, understand?”
you could only nod, dazed.
“good girl,” he breathed, the praise washing over you, more intoxicating than any kiss.
his lips instantly connected with yours once again as his hand resting by your waist crept to the buttons of your tiny shorts. the sounds of lips smacking together filled the cabin, neither of you cared if anyone walked by.
“up.” he growled against your lips, pushing your shorts down to pool at your ankles. as he pulled away, his eyes dilated at the sight of you. how flushed you were, your thighs clenched together, the mini thong you wore.
“wow, you’re asking for it, arent you.” he laughed mockingly, his finger going to hook your panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt. “such a whore.” he coo’d finger running down the slit, collecting all of your slick, a broken moan escaping your lips.
a loud, wet, smack to your pussy maybe you jump. the singing sensation growing as he continued to tease your clit.
“ikeu– please, i need you–” you gasped, feeling his fingers prod your hole.
“not my name.” he tutted, his finger ghosting circles around it. your slick spilling out of you in want and need.
your mind bubbled at his words, the lack of anything in you making you whine. “sir, please!”
“good girl.” he hummed once again, the wetness of his tongue gliding across his lips.
his ring and middle finger going to dip through your arousal as he brought it to his mouth to taste.
fuck, he could get addicted.
the flavours practically exploded, and he couldnt wait longer. “you taste so good.”
the saliva coated his fingers as he sucked them thourghly, not wanting to waste any of you, before plugging deep into your hole.
your back arching at the sudden sting, drool leaking through your lips.
“sir–!!” you gasp as his fingers start to curl into the right spots and enter a scissoring motion inside of you. your mind fogging up at the sensation, walls clenching.
“fuck, you’re already close and all i did was slap your pussy and barely finger you?” he groaned, the hand in your hair going to push your thighs further apart, revealing the cool air against your clit, making you cry out a moan.
“sir– sir, let me cum–” you begged, moans tumbling out of your lips like a waterfall. you were on the edge, mind telling you to let go, and you were until you felt nothing.
he had pulled out his fingers, a wicked smile on his lips as he looked at you like he hadnt practically just stopped your orgasm. “oh, but you’ve been such a whore, you went go flaunting yourself off to sunghoon.”
“nonono– sir, please–!” you cried, getting up to kneel on the bed, a wet patch forming on the blanket under you, but neither of you cared.
“prove how much you want me,” he growled, voice rough with heat. “before i leave you here. dripping, needy, and untouched.”
your hands moved fast at his words, trembling as they unbuttoned his khaki jorts, tugging them down with his briefs, revealing his cock.
you swallowed hard at the sight, the way it was red with anger, and how it was already leaking. your hand wrapping around the shaft softly and jerking it up and down. “am– am i doing good, sir..?”
“i dont know, are you?” he mocked, tilting his head back to moan, there was your answer.
your pussy clenched around nothing at the sounds, how his cock twitched made you moan, your hips slowly moving in circles against the blanket, the friction making you cry out a moan.
jake didnt miss it, he saw your neediness. “cant even wait for me?” he growled, pushing you back down onto the bed, slinging your legs over his shoulder. “if you cant wait. you’ll have to take it like the whore you are.”
when he entered you, a low groan escaped his lips, the way your gummy walls wrapped around his cock making him desire you more.
a growl rumbled from his chest as soon as he bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix, his grip on one of your ankles tightening.
the air between you was thick, charged with every breath, every sound, every inch claimed.
he hissed through his teeth as your hips grinded circles around him.
as soon as he bottomed out, he pushed out just till his tip was only inside you, thrusting back in with a force that made the bed bounce.
you felt a sting with every thrust, each of them drilling the idea of you being his in your head. your hands didnt know where to rest, the blanket, the wooden frame, even your face.
he tried to hold back, he really did. but, he couldnt, with all the angelic noises that escaped you lips, he sped up faster and faster. his mind clouded with the fact he could fuck you better than that sunghoon.
“youre taking it like the good slut you are.” he hissed, laughing at the way you bounced every thrust he did.
he swore he almost came on the spot as he saw the tears in your eyes and the saliva dripping down your oh so pretty face.
“i bet sunghoon cant fuck you as well as i can.” he growled, leaning down and folding your legs, his breath hitting your earlobe as you were practically being reduced to a fleshlight.
“such a good girl for me.” he whispered, and you swore you came on the spot. your back arching at the nickname, and he laughed.
“you like that, dont you, being a good girl for me?” he asked, his thrusts never faltering, all you could do was moan a reseponse, which confirmed that you did, infact like being a good girl for him.
“canicum, pleasepleasplease, sir.” you cried, begging and begging for a release, all that begging making him tut at your desperate tone.
“of course, baby.” he laughed, only to be shut up by the way you clenched around him as you came. a sea of black and white flickering in your eyes at the sensation of release, wetting the base of his cock.
“fuck, that was so hot.” he whispered, thrusts becoming sloppy but quicker by the second. “shit, ‘m gonna cum, and you’re going to take it like the good girl you are, yeah?” he grunted.
you nodded a eager yes, too fucked out to even speak, making him smile. your lipgloss smudged, and tear stains down your cheeks being the final straw. “fuck–” he groaned out, as you felt strings shoot into you.
his thrusts still deep and positioning inside of you as he rode out his high. “you feel so good, baby.” he whispered, still inside of you as you both finished. breaths panting and air smelling like sex.
the post clarity hitting the both of you as you realised what happened. now silent, in both embarrassment and still jealousy (jake). “i mean it, though. dont speak to him anymore.” he hummed breaking the silence, as he rolled beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
“o–kay.” you said with a laugh, voice raspy as you dug your head into his chest.
first time doing this without anon but hear me out on riding niki's abs 😞
[MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT AHEAD] sorryyyy this is kinda short (T_T)
You’re straddling his waist, bare thighs spread wide over his hips, and he just smirks up at you, hands behind his head like he’s chilling, except his abs are flexing every two seconds because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“go on, baby. use me.”
So you do.
you slide forward, knees digging into the sheets, until your pussy is pressed right against the hard ridges of his stomach. He's warm, skin a little sweaty from the heat, and the second you settle your weight he flexes hard, making every muscle pop under you.
You moan before you even move.
Then you start rocking. Slow at first, just dragging your slick folds up and down the center line of his abs, feeling each bump and dip catch on your clit. The friction is insane, way better than any toy, because it’s him— so warm, and alive, flexing every time you grind down.
His hands finally come out from behind his head to grip your thighs, spreading you wider, thumbs pressing into the crease where leg meets hip so you’re completely open. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, biting his lip every time your hips stutter.
“fuck, look at you,” He rasps. “riding my stomach like a desperate little slut.”
You speed up, chasing it, using the slick mess you’re leaving all over him to glide faster.
Every time you slide forward your clit catches on the edge of his lowest ab and you see stars. your hands are braced on his chest, nails digging into his pecs, and he just keeps flexing randomly just to watch you fall apart.
“riki—” You let out a broken whine.
He sits up suddenly, abs crunching, which shoves that perfect ridge right against your clit, and wraps one arm around your waist to keep you moving. His other hand slides up to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.
“Cum on my stomach, baby,” he growls against your neck. “make a mess. want you dripping down my ribs.”
That’s it.
You grind down hard, rolling your hips in tight circles, and cum with a strangled moan, thighs clamping around his waist, slick gushing over his abs in waves. he keeps moving you through it, forcing every last pulse out of you until you’re limp and gasping, forehead dropped to his shoulder.
Only then does he ease up, both arms wrapping around you, holding you close while you shake. His lips brush your temple, soft now, almost reverent.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You’re unreal.”
You feel his cock (painfully hard) trapped against your thigh, leaking precum into your skin, but he doesn’t move to take anything else. Just holds you, lets you come down, abs still twitching under your oversensitive pussy.
You whine, boneless, and he just smirks, flexing one last time so you jolt against him.
❛ 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘥!simjaeyun 𝑥 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝑓!reader ❜ MDNI
sexual tension, smut, unprotected sex (DO NOT try this at home!), slight name calling, slight teasing, slight praising
synopsis: nerds are the worst fucks ever.. right?
not proofread, sorry..!
you sat on the floor of this house party you got invited to, watching as everyone began to play spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven into one game.
the house was huge, which meant they sent a pair off almost every few seconds into random places of the house to do their business.
“alright, y/n. your turn.” your friend, who was also the host, spoke, handing over an empty beer bottle to you, which you attempted to decline. “if you don’t take it you’re getting cut off~”
you peeked into the red plastic cup you had been holding, running low on your mixture of drinks inside. when realizing you’re running low, you rolled your eyes and took the bottle, placing it in the middle of the giant circle and using decent amount of force to spin it.
“i really hope i don’t get a nerd, they’re the worst fucks ever.” you mumbled, watching the bottle begin to slow down.
the anticipation was killing you! you had no idea who you were going to be messing around with, and in your opinion, there weren’t many attractive people at this party.
the bottle finally stopped. you looked up to see who was being pointed at with the top part of the bottle. a boy with glasses was being pointed at, and he was already staring right at you.
you couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or if he was genuinely really cute under those glasses. but nonetheless, you guys had to spend seven minutes into a tight space together.
the two of you stood up, maintaining eye contact. you gulped down the last of your drink, causing you to grimace.
you finally broke the eye contact you and the boy had been sharing for awhile, before walking towards the hallway and dragging him by the collar of his shirt, “you’ll have to do.”
after finally finding an empty closet with nobody inside, you and the boy stood there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. he looked nervous, his hands were tapping his sides while he frantically looked around at the ceiling.
“i’m jake, and you are?”
“y/n.”
more moments of silence passed, causing your impatience to grow. you tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for something, anything to happen.
“god, this is what i was talking about.” you mumbled to yourself.
“sorry?”
“look, from the look of those glasses, i can already tell that you’re gonna be the worst fuck i’ll have tonight. so, maybe do me a favor and just leave the closet. they have those um, what do you guys call it? dragons and jail?”
“dungeons and dragons?”
“yeah, that.” you smiled sarcastically, patting him on the shoulder. “just go to that, maybe you’ll find someone in there for you.”
“you don’t even know me and you’re already judging me based off of my glasses?” the boy scoffed, crossing his arms as he finally looked down at you, using the little light you guys had that seeped through the cracks of the doors.
“yeah, right. every single one of you i’ve met with glasses act the fucking same.” you rolled your eyes, placing one hand on your hip. “i’m waiting for the day that one of you proves me wrong, until then, i-“
he grabs your wrists and pins you against the wall, covering your lips with his own hand to stop you from speaking. “i barely know you but i’m already fucking sick of your complaining.”
you licked the palm of his hand, causing him to retract it and wipe it against his pants. “ew! what is wrong with you?!”
“you have never learned your manners as a man, have you?! you don’t ever stop a woman from speaking.” you spat, struggling to release yourself from his grip. “i still stand by what i said, you can’t prove me wrong.”
in one swift move, he turns you around and bends you over, continuing to pin your wrists against the wall. you stood there speechless, already feeling the bulge behind you begin to grow in his pants.
you felt one of his hands softly explore your skin, feeling his hands everywhere. that’s when he finally discovered your panties under your skirt, his breath hitched as he slipped them down.
“that’s all you had underneath? no wonder you act like a slut.” he degraded, brushing your hair from your back to your shoulder. he began placing soft kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders, causing you to shiver. “stay like this.”
you felt his hands release yourself wrists and skin, hearing the sound of a belt and pants unbuckling. he pressed himself against you, bringing wetness to the heat between your legs as you felt his hard member through his boxers.
“look at you following directions, you’re already being so good for me, y/n.” he praised, holding your wrists against the wall once again. you whimpered as you moved against his straining member, already tired of him teasing you.
he hissed at this, retracting his waist and pulling his boxers down, allowing himself to spring free. you felt him line himself up at your entrance, feeling his tip poking and teasing your glistening hole. “already dripping for me? i barely even touched you, baby.”
you felt him push himself into you, hearing a desperate groan slip from his lips. you hissed, feeling the stinging pleasure as he stretched you out with his cock. “j-jake.”
jake breathed out a moan, continuing to push himself in until every inch was inside of you. “you were running your mouth ever since you got here, all i want to hear come out from now on are those pretty noises you make and you calling my name, got it?”
you felt his hand grab a fistful of your hair, yanking it lightly so that you were forced to look up. you desperate for him to move, which brought tears in your eyes.
“answer me, y/n.” he spoke firmly, tugging your hair harder. you winced, feeling his hands on your wrists tighten. “what, are you shy now? you were just acting cocky out there not that long ago.”
he began to move, causing a broken moan to slip from your mouth. the pace was slow at first, which caused the feeling of desperation to linger in your stomach. you moved your hips to feel him deeper, which caused him to yank your hair once again.
"we're going at my pace, you're gonna have to deal with that." jake growled, shoving himself all the way in which caused a yelp to come out of you. "you're already doing so good, don't tell me you can't take this.."
"j-jake, i'm gonna c-cum.."
"already? we barely started." he teased, practically pounding into you by now. “just a little longer, baby.”
but you couldn’t hold it, you were already seeing stars at this point. you let out another broken moan, releasing onto his cock.
hearing you caused him to break as well, pulling out and fucking his hand, to allow himself to release into it.
the closet was humid, panting was being heard, and both of your bodies were sticky with sweat. you two made yourselves look presentable in silence, before hearing someone pounding the closet door.
summary. you just got off your period and you’re ready to attack. genre. ovulation. smut. the animal has awakened themes. established!relationship. author’s note. currently feral. you’re welcome
Hii authornim idk if youre taking requests in rn but basically i’ve been having this on my mind for so long but jake x f!reader and jake is wearing his chain necklace (iykyk) and he fucks reader so aggressively while it hangs from his neck😫😫😫
i like the way you kiss me - sim jaeyun
: 심재윤 x 𝒇!reader .
[ your boyfie doesnt fuck you hard enough for your own satisfaction , so you have to satisfy your own needs , maybe with him catching you in the middle . . . ]
WRITING 𓈒 PWP , MINOR DNI dom jake , p in v , no protection (dont b silly wrap ur willy!!) , masturbation (f) , use of toys (dildo) , edging , teasing , he lowk worships you , he leaves the dildo in u for a bit asw.... , nicknames : doll , baby , fingering , creamepie , being good for him 𓏵
wc: 1.4k
a/n: why am i slowly becoming doodoo fart at writing.
“jakey–” you gasped, your fingers brushing past your clit against your panties.
your boyfriend, who does very much satisfy all your needs, is a little… too vanilla. and what better way to satisfy your needs than with yourself!
your free hand slowly moves to push down the neck of your tank top under your breasts, fingers brushing your nipples in sync with your fingers against your clit, soft moans escaping your mouth.
you were too busy to build up your orgasm, that didnt hear the door click behind you, your face stuffed into the pillow as your hands continued to rub your clit and buds, the sight coming straight out of a porno.
the sounds of the feet against the carpet, muted in your ears as you reached for the dildo beside you, rubbing it against your sopping panties, moaning jake’s name softly.
your stomach contorted at the feeling as you felt the dildo hit the clit peaking against your panties, saliva trickling down your chin softly as you felt your orgasm build in your stomach, eyes flashing black and white until the sensation disappeared with a dip in the bed.
“couldnt wait for me?” jake hummed, grabbing your wrist to pull your hands away from the dildo. a whine escaping your lips as your legs thrashed at the loss of an orgasm, making jake let out a low laugh.
“aw, you’re so cute, doll.” he hummed, peeling the dildo away from your fingers and placing it beside him. “this… little thing is whats getting you off?” he hummed, glancing at it with furrowed brows. “you should know im way bigger,” he hummed, replacing your fingers with his own.
his thick fingers rubbing small circles against your clit through the panties, almost tauntingly as he peered down at you. “poor thing, her orgasm gone.” he cooed, the taunting fingers continuing to rub against your panties, your slick making them wetter by the second.
his free hand goes to push down the waist band of your panties ever so slightly, letting them sit just around your thighs. the touch of his thick fingers against the real thing making you jump. “jake–” you gasp, eyes widened.
“be good for me, yeah?” he hummed, moving his hand down so his thumb teased your hole and the rest of his fingers rubbed against your clit, other hand gripping the soft flesh of your ass like it was porcelain
his hand ran up your slicked folds, ring finger and middle finger catching your hole lightly, making you whine. the sound made jake smirk, as the two fingers sank into you deeper. the cool metal of his rings make you jump in pleasure. “please…” you gasped out.
“i dunno, doll.” he hummed, lightly tapping your ass cheek before grabbing the dildo beside himself. “what do you say, i fuck you with this toy, huh?” he asked, the tip of the dildo circling your clit as his fingers fucked you slowly.
all you could do was moan and whine at each touch, your body twitching every so often, until you felt your orgasm approach once again, thighs twitching and velvet walls clenching around his fingers, your back arching as you moan loudly, only to feel nothing, again.
your head peeked behind your shoulder, a small whimper escaping your lips in confusion, only to feel the cold plastic enter your hole slowly, each push making your feel the intense sting until you felt the fake balls hit your own clit.
“youre doing so well for me.” jake hummed, pulling out the toy halfway only to thrust it softly inside of you. the motion almost painfully slow, you could feel every stretch of the toy.
“jake–” you gasped, hands grasping at the soft bedsheet under you. his movements slowly speeding up till there were soft slaps that filled the room, the toy inside you, relentless and brutal.
“is this what you want?” he hummed possessively, pushing the toy in as deep as he possibly could, sliding the pretty panties you wore back up to sit comfortably against your waist, patting your hole softly before helping you sit up.
“what–” you gasped, eyebrows furrowed at his movements, as he bridal carried you to the sofa of your shared apartment.
“what movie should we watch, baby?” he hummed, kissing your cheek as he set you down on the sofa, like he didnt edge you with a damn dildo. when you took too long to reply, he raised an eyebrow and looked over to you. “baby?”
“oh– uhm… maybe… this one..?” you stuttered, using the remote to flick through netflix for the perfect movie. his hand crept up and down your thighs, not touching where it ached the most.
the movie played on, every movement of jakes large hands against your thighs making you jump, the dildo hitting the right spots in you with a red face.
“why are you so red?” he hummed, face covered with a face of innocence, his hand creeping closer to your covered pussy.
“please– stop teasing–” you gasped, trying to close or spread your thighs open, you didnt know yourself. the dildo inside of you making you feel more sensitive and aware than ever.
he laughed at your desperation, pushing your panties to the side so the dildo could slide out of you with a small pop. “wow, you’re needy…” he hummed, pushing you to lie on the sofa’s armrest.
his body moved between your legs swiftly, the hard on in his sweats visible as he rubbed it against your slicked clit. “shit, i cant wait to fuck you.” he growled, eyes dilating at the flushed state you were in.
“please.” you begged, pushing your hips towards him with a quiet moan, your body shuddering and flooding with need, mind only thinking of jake and his cock, hand gripping the bottom of his shirt, “off.”
and who was he to deny your request? his hands practically flew to toss his shirt somewhere in your living room; it was a problem for another day.
the shadow of his body loomed over you as he pressed a sloppy, protective kiss onto your lips, arms hooking under your thighs as her placed them onto his shoulders with the bite of your lips. “be good for me?” he hummed, pushing the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers just below his hips.
all you did was reply with a whine, back arching in an instant as he slowly traced his tip against your hole. “jake– i swear to god–”
your words were interrupted by a moan at the way he slipped in you with ease, his cock stretching you out even more than the dildo, you could feel the way his cock twitched every second.
he didnt even let you adjust before pulling out so his tip rested inside you, thrusting in with an intense force, making the sofa shake and the chain necklace you gave him for your 5th anniversary rattle.
“fu–ck!” you moaned out, gripping the pillows under you for any stability. the thrusts were brutal and pistoned, this wasnt how you guys normally fucked, he’d always take things slow.
not today.
“you like that im fucking you fast?” he groaned into your ear, his voice never faltering with his intense speed, the cold metal around his neck making him seem ten times more attractive in your head. “like im using you like my own toy?”
you moaned at his words, velvet walls clenching around his cock as a response, making him groan. “shit, keep doing that and i might just cum.”
you whined, the orgasm in you building up faster than it ever has in your life. “jake–y, i need too…” you gasp through moans, calves twitching against his shoulders.
“go on.” he hummed, the speed of his thrusts becoming faster, yet sloppier as he was chasing his own orgasm. his words making your eyes tear up and orgasm flush through you in an instant.
the feeling making your body arch and shake, it was too much with his brutal thrusts. “too– much–” you gasped, feeling him fill you up in an instant, as your walls clam down on his cock.
“fuck…” he moaned, the swinging chain on his neck coming to a slow halt as he practically fell down on you, hands wrapping around your waist and flipping you over to lay on his chest.
you groaned lightly at a slight stinging pain, resting your head on his plush chest with a smile. “y’know, we should do it more rough more often.” you hummed with a smile, pecking his lips.
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.
Sunghoon is a full-time fuckboy with a habit of never staying until the morning. You’re not into casual. Not into games. Not into the way he looks at you like you’re next. And yet, something about him sticks. Something behind the smirk, the flirting, the pretty face. You swore you'd never fall for a guy like him.
But then again…never say never.
✴︎ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: fuckboy!sunghoon x hook-up culture hater!reader
fluff, slow-ish burn but not really tbh, trust issues, sunghoon is a b-boy, reader likes photography and hates hook-ups, soft smut, weak in the knees, he looks at you like you’re worth everything, sensual intimacy... I am bad at this
✴︎ 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: themes of hookup culture, emotional vulnerability, light angst, reader struggles with trust/intimacy, smut (minors dni)
10.8k words
You’re sitting on a kitchen counter, legs swinging, drink in hand, detached from the mess of bodies around you. The music’s too loud, the lights too low, and the air smells like cheap beer and desperation.
Small town house parties are always the same.
Predictable. Repetitive. Pathetic.
You’re not drunk, not even tipsy. Just observant. Detached. Watching the night unravel around you. Trying to pass time until your friend’s done pretending this place has something new to offer.
Then you notice him.
Park. Fucking. Sunghoon.
The local fuckboy with a reputation thicker than the scent of cologne trailing behind him. He’s all lazy smirks and sinful stares, the kind of boy who knows he’s wanted, and acts like the world owes him something for it.
Girls notice him. Of course they do. Their eyes flick to him like moths to an expensive flame.
His hair’s a little too perfect, that jacket too clean for a night like this. He makes eye contact with three of the girls on his way across the room. All of them smile. None of them hold his attention.
Until he sees you.
You sit on the counter like it’s the only place in the room that isn’t spinning. Not drinking to blur the night. Not trying to be seen. Just… occupying space.
You’re wearing black. Always black. Not because you’re trying to be edgy, but because it doesn’t stain, and it makes people assume you’re colder than you are. Which helps. People leave you alone when they can’t quite figure out if you’re worth the effort.
Your lip gloss is half-faded, and you’ve reapplied it twice with the tiny mirror in your phone, only because you like the way it catches the light when you talk. You’ve got that look in your eyes — one part bored, one part dangerous. Not in a loud way. Not in a “who’s that girl?” kind of way. More like background static. A presence.
And Sunghoon is intrigued by that.
You’ve already said no to two guys. One of them slurred something about your legs, and the other asked if you were “waiting for someone.” You told him you were waiting for the earth to split open and swallow this whole place.
You weren’t joking.
Sunghoon looks at you like you’ve interrupted something inside him. Like he wasn’t planning to notice you, and now he can’t stop. He lingers near the edge of the kitchen for a moment, half-listening to whatever some girl’s saying, before peeling away like her voice just turned to a quiet hum.
He walks like someone who never rushes. Someone who knows the room bends for him whether he tries or not.
And now he’s right in front of you.
“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” he says, voice full of honey-laced mischief. “You always sit up there?” he asks, head tilted like he’s genuinely curious.
You sip your drink. “Only when I don’t feel like talking to people.”
He grins at that. “Too bad. I’m Sunghoon.”
You raise a brow. “I know who you are.”
“And yet,” he says smoothly, “you’re not impressed.”
“Not even a little.”
He leans in, mouth closer now, like he’s used to his smile doing half the work for him. “Then tell me what would impress you.”
You set your drink down and tilt your head, smiling sweetly. Almost sympathetically.
“If you’re talking to me just to get your dick sucked,” you say, “you should look somewhere else.”
His smirk falters for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut to the chase. You let the silence hang, watching the flicker of ego rearrange behind his eyes.
“There’s plenty of girls here who’d gladly drop to their knees for you,” you add, swinging one leg slowly back and forth. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”
Sunghoon recovers fast, smile curving back into place like he enjoys the challenge.
“What if I want you on your knees?”
You don’t flinch. Don’t laugh. You just lean forward until your mouth is barely an inch from his ear. Your breath brushes his skin, and you swear you feel him tense.
“You’d have to deserve it first.”
Then you pull back, like you didn’t just light a fire in him and hop off the counter, boots hitting the floor with a satisfying thud, and walk past him without a second glance. Just as your best friend rounds the corner from the hallway, fresh from the bathroom, eyes searching the crowd for you.
But he follows and you feel his presence before you hear his voice.
“Wait—” Sunghoon calls out, weaving through people until he’s at your side again. “Hey, at least give me your number.”
You glance up at him, a smirk tugging at your mouth despite yourself. Life is a little too boring for you these days, maybe toying with him a bit could make things more interesting. His expression is less cocky now. More curious. Like he doesn’t quite know what the hell just happened, but he wants to.
To put it simply, he isn’t used to rejection.
You hand him your phone wordlessly. He types something in, presses ‘call’ so you’ll have his too, and gives it back with a grin that’s more genuine than you expected.
As you slide it into your back pocket and continue walking, your very drunk best friend nudges you with her elbow, brow raised.
“Who was that?” she asks.
You don’t look back.
“No one,” you say. “For now.”
Sunghoon watches the swing of your hair vanish between strangers and basslines, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he didn’t get what he wanted. At least not right away.
Which is… irritating.
Because he didn’t come here to get rejected.
He came to this party for the usual: a warm body, a messy kiss, something quick and meaningless to pass the time. That’s the game. That’s what people like him do.
Approach. Flirt. Fuck. Never speak again.
But then there was you.
Sitting on the bar like a dare. Eyes glazed with disinterest. Lip gloss smudged. You didn’t look at him like he was something you wanted. And that should’ve been enough to make him walk away. He should’ve let it go. Find someone easier. Someone already halfway in love with the idea of him.
But no. You gave him nothing, and now he wants everything.
You weren’t supposed to say no. You weren’t supposed to smile like you saw straight through him. You weren’t supposed to hand him your number and then walk away uninterested, like it didn’t cost you a single breath.
Now he’s standing there with your number in his phone, your voice still in his ear, and all he can think about is how you didn’t laugh when he said he wanted you on your knees. You just leaned in and whispered something that flipped the entire room on its head.
You’d have to deserve it first.
Fuck.
He wishes he could just fuck you and forget it. Quick and easy. Something physical to burn through and leave behind. But you’re not that kind of flame.
You’re the slow kind.
The kind that leaves marks.
And the worst part? He likes it.
There’s a challenge in you he didn’t expect. A power in the way you don’t try to be wanted. You’re not throwing glances. You’re not performing. You’re just there, sharp and solid and untouchable.
And now you’re stuck in his head.
So he does something he’s never had to do before: he texts you first.
You take your time getting ready.
Not because you’re nervous. Not because you care. But because if you’re going to waste your night on a fuckboy, you might as well look like the kind of girl a fuckboy loses sleep over.
Your room’s quiet, save for the occasional buzz of your phone…another text from Sunghoon, probably. He’s sent three since this morning. One said, “still on for tonight?” The second was a TikTok he clearly thought was funny enough to share (it wasn’t). The latest? A picture of his car parked in your driveway with the caption: “I’m outside. Try not to fall in love or whatever.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you gave yourself a headache. You know exactly what this is.
Park Sunghoon isn’t subtle. He didn’t text you because he wants to “get to know you.” He’s not suddenly into conversation or complicated girls who don’t melt at his smile and laugh at his jokes. He texted because you didn’t play the game. Because you made it clear he’d have to try if he wants you moaning his name.
And men love a challenge, don’t they?
Especially if their ego is on the line.
That’s what makes this fun. He’s trying so hard for a mere one-night stand. And you? You haven’t even started properly toying with him.
You’re not going on this date because you’re interested. You’re going because you’re bored. Because toying with a man like Sunghoon, who’s used to girls bending over backwards for a one-word text and a half-hearted grin, sounds like a fun way to spend your Friday.
Let him think he’s winning, just long enough to keep him coming back. And when he’s invested enough to stop pretending it’s all casual, you’ll remind him that you never planned on giving him anything at all.
This is going to be fun.
By the time you open the door, you’re in your boots, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, and zero intention of pretending you’re excited. He stands up from leaning against his car like he’s in some teen drama, all smirks and practiced charm.
“Well, don't you look beautiful,” he says and hands you a bouquet of lilies.
You give him a once-over. “Thanks, the flowers are pretty.”
He chuckles. “Figured it was the bare minimum.”
“How rare. A man aware of what that means.”
He opens the passenger door for you, and you slide in without a word. The flowers sit in your lap, an unexpected prop in whatever performance he’s trying to put on tonight. You don’t hate it. But you don’t fall for it either.
The car smells like a cologne sample someone rubbed on a credit card bill. Clean, expensive, trying too hard. He gets in on the driver’s side. Glances at you, then at the road.
“You didn’t text back.”
“Didn't feel like it.”
A beat of silence.
“You’re not like other girls, huh?”
You blink once. Then scoff, full-bodied and shameless, turning your head to stare at him like he’s just insulted your entire bloodline.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
He laughs, genuinely this time, even if a little nervous at your outburst. “Right. Okay. Got it.”
The drive is quiet for a moment, save for the playlist he queued up. Something chill. Something he probably played for every other girl he thought he had to vibe with.
“You know,” he says eventually, “you never told me your name.”
“Didn’t think you needed it. You seemed more interested in what I’d look like in your backseat.” You shrug as the car pulls into the parking lot of some half-decent diner. Neon signs. Flickering lights. A place people go when they’re too tired to cook or too young to care about ambiance. He parks, cuts the engine, and looks over.
He sputters. “That’s not…okay, fair.”
You smile to yourself. This is already better than expected.
He steps out first, rushes to your side, and opens your door like he’s got something to prove. You raise an eyebrow as you get out. “Chivalry?” you murmur. “Cute.”
Inside, the diner hums with low conversation and clinking silverware. The waitress barely glances up as she hands you menus and leads you to a booth tucked in the back. There's dim lighting, cracked leather seats, and just enough privacy to pretend this is something more than it is.
Sunghoon slides into the seat across from you, stretches his legs like he owns the space between you, and rests his elbow on the edge of the table.
“You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
You look up from the menu. “Not particularly.”
He huffs out a laugh, leans back. “Then why’d you come?”
You tap a manicured nail against the tabletop. “I was bored.”
“Boredom,” he repeats. “Harsh.”
“Honest.” You don’t soften the blow. You don’t apologize.
He flips the menu shut. “Alright then, honesty for honesty. You caught my attention that night. Like actually caught it. That doesn’t happen.”
You raise a brow. “How tragic for you.”
“Okay, damn.” He laughs. “You’re not gonna let me have one sincere moment?”
“Maybe. If it’s a good one.”
You sip your drink when it arrives. He does too. There’s a pause between you, not awkward, just heavy with whatever this is turning into.
And then, because you feel like it, you lean back in your seat and finally say it. Low and slow. Like giving him your name is an offering, not a courtesy.
“It’s Y/N.”
His eyes flicker. “Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “Pretty.”
You hold his gaze. “Don’t ruin it.”
He smiles. But it’s not that cocky grin from the party. It’s quieter. More real. The kind of smile someone gives when they don’t know they’re doing it. And for just a moment, you feel it. That flicker in your chest. That tiny, traitorous skip in your pulse. You crush it immediately.
The plates hit the table with a muted clink. Greasy diner food. Something deep-fried. Something Sunghoon didn’t even look at the name of before ordering. You’re too busy watching the way the window beside you stains his skin in washed-out blue and buzzing pink, like a painting someone left out in the rain.
He picks up a fry. Spins it between his fingers like he's stalling.
"So," he says after a beat, “you don’t do small talk.”
“Only with people I’m trying to impress.” You say as you pop a cherry into your mouth from your drink. It crunches between your teeth.
“Alright. No small talk. Big talk, then.”
You raise an eyebrow, chewing slowly.
“Big talk?”
“Yeah. Like… the kind that changes the mood, for better or worse.”
You snort softly. “Was there a mood?”
“Not yet,” he says, mouth twitching. “But I’m working on it.”
There’s a small pause. He breaks first.
“I dance,” he says, eyes still on the table. “Breakdancing, mostly. I’m in a crew. We battle.”
That catches you off guard. You glance at him. “Like… actual dance battles?”
“Yeah,” he nods, like this is the part where most people either tune out or mock him. “Underground stuff. There’s a warehouse in Hongdae that we use to host dance battles occasionally. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
You take another sip of your drink. Let the silence stretch before answering.
“That’s kind of sick.”
He meets your gaze, surprised. “Yeah?”
You nod. “You don’t seem like the type to care about anything enough to practice it.”
That earns you a laugh, a real one. Soft. Eyes crinkling. “Okay, harsh. But fair,” he says, grinning, but then he sobers a little. “I’ve got a younger sister. She’s eight. I show her videos from the battles. She thinks I’m famous or something, it's super cute.”
That makes you pause. You hadn’t expected softness from him. Not this kind. Not this early.
“What’s her name?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“Yeji,” he says, voice quieter now. “She paints flowers on my sneakers when I’m not looking.”
You smile. And this time, it’s not calculated.
There’s a lull. Not awkward. Just… gentle. Like a breeze passing through the booth. The sound of silverware, of soft pop songs from the speakers above, of the world going on without noticing that something strange and delicate is blooming between two strangers under neon lights.
He nods at you, finally.
“Your turn.”
You raise a brow. “For what?”
“Big talk.”
You hesitate. Then wipe your hands on a napkin and lean back into the cracked leather.
“I’m starting college after summer ends,” you say. “Communications major. Media and stuff.”
He nods. “You excited?”
You stare at him. Then softly answer, “I’m terrified.”
He doesn't smile at that. Doesn’t laugh. Just let it sit there like he knows how heavy it is to admit something like that out loud. “Good,” he says eventually. “Means you give a shit.”
“I also do photography,” you say suddenly, like it slipped out by accident.
He tilts his head. “Yeah?”
You nod, eyes tracing the condensation sliding down your glass. “Started when I was fifteen. Took my mom’s old camera one day and never really put it down.”
“What do you shoot?”
You hesitate. Then answer like it’s a secret. “People. Usually strangers and their movement. Or hands. I like hands… they tell you everything,” you say. “Nervous tics. Calluses. Scars.”
He nods, quiet for once. “That’s cool. I get that, actually.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You get the hand thing?”
“I mean… I get watching movement. Reading people without them noticing. It's kind of the same with dancing,” he says, scratching the back of his neck like he’s just now realizing it. “When I’m battling, I don’t just move, I watch. How someone shifts their weight. How they breathe before a drop. Trying to predict their moves. It’s all there, even in their hands.”
You blink, a little surprised. Not by what he said, but by the fact that he said it at all. That he said it like it meant something. A small silence curls between you, not awkward, just heavy with mutual understanding.
He gestures toward your drink with a flick of his fingers. “So do you just carry your camera everywhere like a spy? Or are you gonna show me one of these mysterious hand photos?”
You smirk. “It’s in my bag.”
You reach down and pull it out; it's nothing too fancy, just a camera that’s clearly lived a life. Paint on the strap. A sticker half-peeled off the bottom. Dings, dents, charms.
He whistles low, impressed. “This thing’s got stories.”
“So do the people in it,” you say. Then, without warning, you lift the camera and snap a picture of him mid-sip, his eyes wide with surprise, a little drip of water sliding down his chin.
“Hey!” he coughs, setting his glass down. “Rude,” he laughs, then points a dramatic finger at you. “I've got a crazy good idea, next battle you’re coming with me. I want you to photograph me spinning on my head, looking like a tornado.”
You arch a brow. “Big words for someone who just got caught mid-sip looking like a confused turtle.”
“I have layers,” he says, grinning. “Besides, I think it'd be cool. You… behind the lens. The crowd in motion. My crew on the dance floor. Just thinking about it makes me excited.”
You pause. Not because you don’t want to go. But because, somehow, in the middle of teasing and you trying to act nonchalant… that felt real. Like an invitation that meant something.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at your camera. “That could be nice.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice quieter now. “You ever show your photos to anyone?” You shrug at that. “Sometimes. Online, mostly. But not really the ones that matter.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because those are the ones that feel like me,” you say, barely above a whisper. “And people don’t always know what to do with that.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then he finally breaks the silence, “I’d get it. If you ever wanted to show me.”
You glance up, caught off-guard again. He’s not smirking this time. No teasing. Just looking at you like you’re not some game to figure out, but something already worth knowing. Is this all a scheme of his to get you naked? It doesn't feel like it is.
And you hate that your heart stumbles for it.
So you lift the camera again and snap another photo, catching him with his chin resting in one hand, eyes soft and steady.
“What now?” he asks.
You smile, just a little. “That one’s for me.”
The drive back is quiet in that way late-night rides sometimes are—comfortable, laced with half-thoughts and glances that last too long. The radio hums with something lo-fi and low-effort, the kind of music meant to fill the space without asking too many questions. City lights blur past in streaks, all neon pinks and golds, casting moving shadows across the interior of the car. Sunghoon drums his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. You pretend not to notice when he glances at you during red lights.
“So,” he says eventually, voice breaking the silence like it’s a bubble. “Was I... tolerable company tonight?”
You stretch in your seat, turning toward the window with a deliberately long sigh. “You didn’t talk with your mouth full. Or take a selfie mid-meal. So yeah, I’ve survived worse.”
He chuckles, low and genuine. “Wow. High praise.”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you murmur. “That thing’s already struggling for space.”
He gives you a mock-wounded look before returning his focus to the road, a lopsided smile still tugging at his lips. Outside, the city starts to thin. Fewer cars. Quieter streets. The kind of quiet that almost feels private. And then there it is, your street, familiar and dim under the yellow haze of tired streetlamps.
He pulls into your driveway like he’s done it before. Like it’s already a routine. The engine cuts, leaving only the clicking of the cooling hood and your shallow breaths in the stillness. Neither of you moves for a second.
“Do I get a rating? Like out of ten?” he starts again, voice softer now.
You pretend to think. “Five. But I added points for the lilies.”
“Five?” he echoes, hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “This is the worst review I’ve ever received.”
“You’ll survive.” You reach for the door handle. He beats you to it.
You watch, vaguely amused, as he jogs around the car and opens your door like this is prom night. You step out slowly, eyes still on him, one brow raised.
“Chivalry again?” you ask, dry.
He shrugs, hands in his pockets again. “Get used to it.”
The walk to your front step is a few feet, but feels longer with the weight of unsaid things trailing behind you. You reach the door, keys already in hand, but he lingers, half a step closer than necessary. He’s looking at you the way people do when they’re working up to something. You can feel it before he says anything. The almost electric silence of someone about to act on a maybe.
“So…” he starts, leaning in just slightly, his lips getting dangerously close to yours. Not cocky this time. Not performative. Just… hopeful. Curious. You let him get close, just enough to think he might get away with it. And then you tilt your head at the last second, barely dodging his lips, and instead whisper near his ear, voice velvet-smooth:
“Good night, Sunghoon.”
You step back before he can recover, watching the flicker of surprise flash across his face. His lips part slightly, brows lifting just a touch. He laughs. It’s not loud, but it’s full-bodied. Like he wasn’t expecting it, but he’s not mad about it either.
“I should’ve known,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really aren’t gonna make this easy, are you?” You smile, faint and dangerous. “What would be the fun in that?”
“You like messing with me.” He watches you for a beat, eyes trailing from your mouth to your gaze like he’s trying to memorize something he shouldn’t want this badly.
You turn the key in the lock, glancing at him over your shoulder.
“You're figuring that out just now?”
A pause. His smirk deepens, sharp at the corners but softer underneath.
“See you at the dance battle then?”
You nod once, pulling the door open just enough to slip inside. “You better win,” you say, not even looking back. “I’ll be watching.” And then the door clicks shut, leaving him on your porch, hands in his pockets, smirking at the wood grain like he’s just been played and loved every second of it.
The smell hits first: concrete, sweat, smoke, and adrenaline. The floor’s already alive when you get there. There’s no “door.” Just a guy on the stairs who eyes your camera and gives you a nod when you flash the printed flyer. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The music’s already doing enough of the talking.
The battle’s set in a cavernous underground parking garage, fluorescent lights flickering overhead like they’re on their last breath. Concrete walls are sprayed with layers of graffiti – colorful tags, sprawling murals, sharp symbols screaming of a thousand nights like this one. Every inch hums with grit and possibility, like the whole place is waiting to catch someone mid-air.
Inside, the crowd’s tight, hungry. Hoodies and snapbacks. Pretty girls in cargos and gold hoops. Crews clustered like wolfpacks around the taped-off cypher, all waiting for blood. The floor space is roughly duct-taped off, even though everyone knows the rules: no pushing in, no touching, and if you enter the circle, you better have something to show off.
Music pulses through the space, old-school breakbeats with heavy bass that thumps in your chest and seeps into your bones. The DJ’s scratching keeps everything tight, carving breaks sharp enough to slice through the tension.
A speaker thuds out a beat hard enough to shake your spine, and the crowd roars as two b-boys launch into a footwork exchange. Quick, sharp, controlled chaos. 6-steps, elbow freezes, and windmills turning to flares. One misstep and the circle eats you alive.
You stay on the edges, camera in hand. You’re not here to dance.
You’re here to watch him.
Sunghoon.
You spot him across the room instantly. Black joggers, scuffed at the hem, catching on the gritty floor. White tee under an oversized hoodie that sways with him, a quiet shout of street style against the raw backdrop. A bandana tied around his wrist. His crew stands nearby, dapping each other up, heads nodding to the beat. He hasn’t seen you yet.
Good.
You lift your camera and frame the shot, his profile lit by the glow of cheap LED strip lights, backlit by movement. You click once. Then again. Candid.
The DJ cuts the track mid-beat, and a ripple moves through the crowd like lightning. A new challenger steps into the circle.
"Next up," someone calls, "Echo versus Icey." A scream erupts
That’s him. Icey.
You didn’t realize it at first, but break dancers usually go by nicknames. It’s just how the culture works. Everyone has these sharp, catchy handles that stick way better than their real names. Makes sense when you think about it. When you’re spinning, flipping, and throwing down moves that look like they belong in a comic book, your given name just doesn’t cut it.
Take Sunghoon, for example. It’s like a secret identity, a persona that’s bigger than life on the floor. You wonder what your nickname would be if you ever stepped in.
Sunghoon makes his way towards the dance floor, and the crowd tightens.
You raise your camera again.
He doesn’t start big. Just a bounce. Head nod. A few toprock steps that look too casual to be serious — until he drops, spins into a windmill and snaps into a hollowback freeze so clean you hear people yelling from across the garage.
It’s flow. Pure flow. Controlled power. Every move connected, like his bones know where the music’s going before the DJ does. He battles like someone with something to prove, but nothing to lose. Like he doesn’t just want to win, he wants to be remembered.
And in the middle of a thread combo so tight it looks animated, he glances your way. Direct. Sharp. Then he finishes the set with an elbow freeze, legs up, chest forward, eyes still on you.
You click the shutter. Again. And again.
After the round, crews slap hands, people whistle, and the music doesn’t stop. The battle goes on. But you move around the space, framing him between silhouettes, graffiti, limbs in motion. You don’t notice when he disappears from the cypher. But you do feel him appear behind you.
“You get my good side?”
The voice is lower now. Sweaty. Slightly out of breath. You don’t turn around immediately.
“I don’t know,” you reply, adjusting your lens. “You blur a lot when you spin.”
He leans over your shoulder slightly, not touching, but close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “Let me see?”
You show him one photo. It’s mid-freeze, motion caught mid-breath, body held in defiance of gravity. But it’s not the move that makes it good, it’s the expression. Focused. Drenched in light and shadow. Alive.
Sunghoon whistles under his breath. “Damn.”
You glance at him sideways. “You impressed?”
He shrugs. “I mean... I look kind of hot.”
“You looked kind of unhinged. Like you were about to levitate.”
“Same thing,” he smirks. “On a serious note, it's really good. Like really, really good. I might even print it out.” That makes you blush a little. He continues, “My crew’s doing a block party tomorrow. Real open floor. Bring your camera. Could use someone with your eye.”
You raise a brow. “You just want free promo.” He grins wider. “Nah. I just like having you around.” You snort at that, “You’re lucky you’re good.”
He’s quiet for a second, “I meant it. You’ve got an eye. Come shoot us.”
You finally nod, and then you lift your camera again and say, “Smile.”
He flashes a peace sign, sticking his tongue out. You snap it.
Ugly. Dumb. A mess of a shot.
You love it instantly.
The battles go on, and you find yourself captivated.
Finally, Sunghoon’s name rings out over the speakers. First place. The crowd roars, but before the noise can swallow you whole, he’s already making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with a grin that’s all kinds of dangerous and playful.
Before you can blink, he’s at your side and then, without warning, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing at all. Your laughter spills out, light and breathy, echoing against the concrete walls. His arms are strong and warm, steadying you as the world tilts a little in the best possible way.
“You’re heavy,” he teases, voice rough and low, but there’s something soft in the way he looks at you. You giggle again, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Lucky you’ve got muscles.”
He holds you a moment longer, like he’s savoring the space between battle and celebration, then pulls back just enough to grin down at you.
“Give me a sec,” he says, eyes flickering to the side. “Gotta do something.”
You watch as he steps away, the grin fading into something more serious. Across the circle, the second-place dancer stands, chest heaving, sweat slicked over his skin, eyes glazed with exhaustion and worry.
Sunghoon approaches, calm but purposeful. Without hesitation, he presses the prize money into the other guy’s hand. “For your mom,” he says quietly. The man blinks, shock rooting him in place. His voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I… I can’t. This is your prize.”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes steady, voice soft. “I heard she’s in the hospital. Needs it more.”
For a moment, the world stills. The man’s fingers close slowly over the cash, gratitude and disbelief mingling in his expression. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice thick with emotion. Sunghoon just nods and turns back toward you, a small, almost shy smile pulling at his lips.
You stand there, heart pounding, the camera forgotten in your hand, watching the quiet strength behind his gesture. When he reaches you again, you look up into his eyes and say, “That was… very kind of you.”
Sunghoon’s gaze softens. “This whole thing is not just about winning. It’s about what you stand for.” You swallow at that, heart tightening with something you can’t quite name. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the steady thrum of your own breath and the sudden heat of his presence beside you.
He squeezes your hand gently, just for a second, before stepping back to the circle. The moment feels charged, like a secret passed between two people who don’t need to say more. You lift your camera slowly, capturing a shot of him looking out over the crowd, victorious.
“Come on,” he says with a grin, voice teasing but warm. “Dance with me?”
You blink, caught off guard by the invitation, a spark of something electric igniting under your skin. The crowd’s roar fades again, this time replaced by the pulse of the beat you can still hear in your chest. Your fingers tighten around the camera, hesitant but curious.
“Dance with you?” you echo, voice a little breathless.
He nods, stepping closer, his eyes bright with challenge and something softer, a silent promise that this moment is just for the two of you.
The circle clears, or maybe it just feels that way. He offers his hand, steady and warm, and you take it, letting him pull you into the middle of the cypher. The music swells again, bass thumping through the concrete like a heartbeat.
You don’t know many moves, you’re not a dancer, but Sunghoon’s rhythm wraps around you, guiding, coaxing. His laughter is low and contagious, and soon you find yourself moving, swaying, caught in the simplicity of the moment.
For a few minutes, it’s just the two of you: the music, the flash of his grin, your breath mingling in the air between you. No prizes, no crowds, no expectations. Just this fragile, perfect thread of connection.
When the song ends, he pulls you close, resting his forehead lightly against yours.
“You got moves,” he says with a teasing smile. You laugh softly, heart still racing. “Only with the right partner.” He holds your gaze, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks quietly.
And in that moment, you want to say yes. You want to dive into this wild, reckless pull he’s got on you. But the voice inside your head won’t let you. If you go with him, if you have sex with him, it whispers, he’ll leave. Mission accomplished. Just like that, gone. And then what? You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that truth settle like a stone in your chest.
He was supposed to be just a fuckboy. Someone to toy with, to keep at arm’s length. To make him think he can get what he wants, and then shove him away. Nothing more. But every time he shows you a new side, softer, realer, it pulls you closer than you planned.
Still, you shake your head softly, trying to steady yourself. You’re scared. Scared that if you let him in, if you cross that line, he’ll disappear like smoke through your fingers, leaving you alone in the dark.
“I can’t,” you whisper, voice barely audible between the fading beats. “Not tonight.”
Sunghoon’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something like understanding there. Maybe even patience. You step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to convince your heart to listen to your head. Because some things, no matter how tempting, aren’t safe to chase, not yet.
Sunghoon looks at you, eyes steady and patient. “I get it,” he says softly, voice rough but sincere. “No pressure.”
He holds out his hand. “Want to get out of here? Go for a walk. Clear the noise?”
You hesitate only a second before slipping your hand into his. His fingers are warm, grounding. Outside, the street feels quieter, cooler. You walk side by side, the air crisp and different from the stale heat inside. The pavement is cracked, the streetlights flickering overhead. Sunghoon glances at you. “Sometimes I think this whole thing, the music, the battles, the crowds… It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. But then other times... it feels like a cage I can’t break out of.”
You glance over, surprised at his honesty. “I get that. Sometimes the things we want the most feel like they trap us.” He nods slowly at that. “Walking in the streets at night is the only time I really feel free. The quiet gives me space to breathe. To just be.”
You glance at him, and for a moment, just a heartbeat, you let yourself look. Really look.
Sunghoon’s profile is lit by the amber glow of a streetlamp overhead, soft golden light brushing against the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the little crease between his brows he gets when he’s deep in thought. His hoodie’s pulled half-up, messy strands of hair brushing his forehead, damp from the heat of the battle. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s still catching his breath from dancing.
And for a second, framed by flickering neon and the gentle hush of the street, he looks unreal. Like something pulled from a dream. Or a memory you haven’t made yet.
There’s a pause, the city’s hum filling the silence. You take a breath, feeling the words bubbling up. “I don’t usually talk about this, but… I’ve had some bad experiences with guys.”
Sunghoon looks at you, curious but patient.
“Not like… abusive or anything,” you say quickly, “just a few bad one-night stands. Thought it’d be simple. No strings. But it turned messy. Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used. So I don’t do that anymore.” Sunghoon listens quietly, not rushing you. “After that, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get close, not like that, not easily. It’s safer.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “I do that,” he continues quietly. “I'm that guy. The one who says all the right things, gets close just enough to get what he wants, and then ghosts before morning. Sometimes I didn’t even wait for the sun to come up. I hate myself for it.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “At first, it felt easy. Like I had control. Keep it light, no strings, no expectations. I told myself I was doing them a favor. Being clear, keeping it casual. But I wasn’t. Not really. Most of the time, I was just scared.”
You don’t speak, but your eyes are on him now, your feet matching his step.
“I didn’t want to connect,” he admits. “Didn’t want anyone to see the parts of me I didn’t like. So I made sure it was always temporary. Quick. Clean. Forgettable.”
He finally looks at you, and his gaze is raw in a way you’ve never seen before. “But the thing is… after a while, it stops feeling good. All that surface-level shit. The adrenaline wears off, and you start to realize you’re just… empty. Like you gave away pieces of yourself for nothing. Took pieces from others. And it hits you.”
He stops walking. You do too.
“I don’t want that anymore.”
The silence stretches between you. It’s not awkward, it’s heavy. Real.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he says, softer now. “Even if that’s all I’ve ever been to other people. I don’t want you to feel cheap, or used, or scared to trust. I just… I like you. Not just how you look. I like how you laugh, or how you see things through your camera lens. I like who you are when you’re not trying to hide.”
Your throat tightens, and he must see it, because he steps just a little closer, enough to make you feel his warmth again.
“I don’t want to push you,” he adds. “If you say no, I’ll respect it. Every time. But I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to say yes. Not to sex. To something real. To us.”
You blink hard, suddenly aware of the way your heart is pounding.
“Damn,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “You’re really not helping my ‘fuckboy’ theory here.”
That earns a small laugh from him, quiet and a little rueful. “I’m trying to retire from the title.” You smile at that, even as your chest aches. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you say honestly.
“I’m not asking you to be,” he replies, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m just asking you to stay. Walk with me. Let me earn it.”
And somehow, in that quiet pocket of night, beneath flickering city lights, with concrete beneath your feet and his hand brushing yours, it feels like maybe, just maybe… you could.
Your room is quiet, save for the soft hum of your laptop and the occasional creak of the old radiator. The city outside murmurs in distant sounds. Cars, the bark of a dog, laughter spilling from a street below, but up here, everything feels far away. Like the world paused somewhere between memory and longing.
You sit cross-legged on your bed, hoodie wrapped around your frame, the faint scent of smoke and sweat still clinging to your clothes from earlier. Your camera sits beside you, the memory card already slotted into your laptop. Folders open. Images load.
And there he is.
Sunghoon.
Captured frame by frame. Candid moments frozen in digital time. You scroll slowly, each photo tugging at something you can’t quite name. In one, he’s mid-spin, hair wild, body blurred in motion, untamed, electric. In another, he’s upside down in a freeze, perfectly still, perfectly impossible.
Then a close-up, taken when he wasn’t looking. His eyes half-lidded from exertion, lips parted, the edge of a smile caught like a secret only you were meant to see.
You stare at that one longer than you mean to.
He’s beautiful. Not in the polished, curated way people try to be. But in the way light hits him. Raw, unfiltered, honest. Like the city sculpted him from noise and rhythm and let him loose just to see what would happen.
Your fingers hesitate over the trackpad. He was supposed to be a game. A joke. A distraction from your own chaos. You were going to toy with him. Let him think he had a chance, and then walk away first. Clean. Simple. Safe.
But then he laughed with you. Pulled you into a dance you didn’t think you’d ever say yes to. Gave away his prize money without blinking. Told you the truth like it cost him something. And now here you are, knees curled to your chest, staring at pictures of a boy who was never supposed to matter.
You press a knuckle to your lips, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You can still hear his voice "I don’t want to be that guy to you." You remember the way he said it. Careful. Sincere.
A little afraid.
What if he meant it? What if you let yourself believe that someone like him, who's made his share of mistakes, who’s been guarded and reckless and selfish, could actually want to be better... with you?
Your heart flips, traitorously.
But the fear rises again just as fast. You’ve let someone in before. Let them close, let them kiss you like they meant it, only to realize you were just a story they didn’t bother finishing. You’ve woken up in someone else’s sheets and felt like you left pieces of yourself behind that you couldn’t get back.
And Sunghoon… he’s dangerous in a different way. Not because he lies. But because he tells the truth too well. And truths can hurt more than lies when they fall apart.
Still…your eyes drift back to the photo, him grinning mid-freeze, looking like he belongs to the night and the light and nothing in between.
You save it in a new folder.
You name it Maybe.
On the other side of the town, Sunghoon can’t sleep.
He’s lying on his back in the dark, one arm slung over his eyes, hoodie still on, the city still humming somewhere outside his cracked window. His body’s tired, aching in the best ways from the battle, the dance, the high of it all, but his mind’s wired. Flickering like a dying streetlight. Loud with thoughts he doesn’t know how to silence.
You.
You, in the crowd with that camera, eyes sharp and curious, catching him like he was something worth framing. You, laughing against his chest, the sound so light it knocked the wind out of him. You, stepping back when he asked you to stay. Soft “I can’t” slicing through his chest sharper than he expected.
He gets it. God, he does. And that’s what hurts more.
Sunghoon shifts, pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers combing through his damp hair. The room smells like detergent and old incense. He’s surrounded by shadows, and still, your voice echoes in his head like you’re right beside him.
"Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used."
He swears under his breath. The guilt, sudden and sharp, creeps in like a draft under the door. He’s done it too. Been that guy. The kind who made girls feel wanted just long enough to get what he wanted. Told himself it was mutual. That it was fun. That no one got hurt if no one caught feelings.
Lies.
He thinks about one girl who used to play with the strings of his hoodie when they kissed. Another who left a poem in his notes app. Another whose number he still has, unread texts gathering dust. He thinks about how he never stayed. How he never meant to.
Because staying meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant risk. Real connection always did. But with you… You scare him in a way he didn’t think possible. The way you see him, like you’re not impressed by the moves or the cocky smiles, like you’re waiting for him to drop the act, makes him feel both exposed and alive. Like he’s not performing anymore. Like maybe, just maybe, he could be himself.
He leans his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he whispered earlier. He meant every word.
You don’t know how much it took to say that. How hard it is to unlearn being guarded. But he’s trying. He wants to try for you. He remembers the way you looked at him when you declined his offer. Not cold. Not distant. Just… scared. Like the walls you’ve built are the only thing keeping you upright. And he doesn’t want to knock them down. He wants to be patient enough to wait on the other side.
He gets up, walking to the window, hands shoved into his pockets. Down on the street, two bikes coast past under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Quiet. Brief. Free.
Sunghoon presses his forehead against the glass and exhales.
He doesn’t know what this is yet, not really. But he knows he wants it. Wants you. Not for one night. Not for the thrill. But for the way you looked at him after the battle. Like he was worth something beyond his pretty face.
He hopes you come to the block party tomorrow. He hopes you keep taking pictures. He hopes you don’t give up on him before he gets the chance to prove he’s not who he used to be. And for the first time in a long time, he’s not thinking about who else he could be with, or what girl’s DMs he hasn’t opened yet. He’s just thinking about you.
Just you.
The smell of grilled skewers and burnt rubber hits first.
The block’s been taken over, tape strung between poles, speakers stacked like towers, lights strung from rooftops to trees like fireflies caught in wire. It’s dusk, the sky bruised purple and orange, and the music’s already thumping loud enough to make your ribcage vibrate.
You clutch your camera tighter as you step into the heart of it.
Crews are scattered in clusters, bouncing in place to the beat, trading handshakes and half-practiced footwork. Kids on scooters weave between legs. Someone’s spray painting the side of a truck. Girls are dancing on the curb, laughing with slushies in their hands, and the whole thing feels alive, wild and beautiful, and chaotic in the best way.
You scan the crowd for him.
You don't want to admit it, but your stomach's been tight ever since last night. Since the walk. Since the way he looked at you like he didn’t want to be the version of himself you'd imagined. Since you saw a version of himself he probably never showed anyone.
And now you’re here.
Because some part of you wants to believe that maybe people can change. That maybe this thing, whatever it is, deserves more than just a line drawn in fear.
You catch him before he sees you, again.
Sunghoon’s standing near the speakers, hoodie half-zipped, a New York Yankees cap on his head. He’s laughing at something a crew member said, head tilted back, gold chain catching the light. And for a moment, you don’t move. You just watch. Because framed by the pulsing streetlights and dusk falling in slow strokes across his cheekbones, he looks... devastating. Effortless. But not in a calculated way. Like the kind of person the city makes poems about. The kind of boy that breaks hearts and doesn’t mean to. And yours aches. Just a little.
Then his eyes find you.
Everything slows. His smile shifts, less wild now, more real. Something flickers in his expression, like he wasn’t sure if you’d come, like your presence just changed the whole weight of the evening.
He jogs toward you, weaving through the crowd. “You made it.”
You nod, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” he says, voice low, more relieved than cocky. “We’re warming up. Wanna shoot from the roof?”
Your brows lift. “There’s roof access?”
He grins, already leading the way. “There’s always roof access if you’re dumb enough.”
You follow him up a metal staircase that groans under your weight, past open windows spilling music and sweat and city air. When you hit the roof, the entire block unfurls below you, people spinning in the street, painted vans, cables humming with strung-up lights.
You lift your camera, framing it all.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
You glance at him. “Yeah. Just... nervous.”
Sunghoon leans against the railing, watching the dancers. “Me too.”
You tilt your head. “You? Nervous?”
His lips twist into a wry smile. “About you.”
Silence sits between you. Thick, warm, honest.
“You scare me a little,” he admits. “You make me want to stop pretending.”
You lower the camera slowly.
“I think I’ve done a lot of pretending,” he continues, eyes on the street. “Pretending I don’t care. That no one else does either. That all this…” he gestures at the party, the dancing, the chaos “...is just noise.”
“But it’s not,” you say quietly. “No,” he breathes. “It’s not. And you, you're not. You see me. And I don’t think I’m used to that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. The camera is still in your hand, but your fingers aren’t steady anymore.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “I’ve hurt girls before. Not because I hated them. Just because I didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t want anyone to see the shit I was trying to outrun. But I don’t want to lie to you. Not even by omission. I’ve been a fuckboy. I’ve ghosted. Lied. Said things I didn’t mean just to feel wanted for a minute.”
You blink, surprised at the rawness.
“I didn’t expect this,” he says. “Didn’t expect you. And I don’t deserve your trust yet, I know that. But if you let me, I’ll earn it. Bit by bit. Even if you never say yes. I still want to be someone worth staying for.”
You stare at him a long moment, wind tugging at your sleeves, music thudding up from below like a second heartbeat. And finally, you lift the camera.
Click.
Sunghoon blinks. “Did you just take a picture?”
You smile softly. “Yeah. Had to catch the moment.”
He exhales a laugh, but it’s soft around the edges. Hopeful. “Do I look tortured and tragic?”
You glance at the preview. “You look real.”
As those words leave your mouth, the music pulses louder and the block party really kicks off. People spill into the streets and alleys, laughter and shouting weaving through the warm night air. Lights strung between buildings cast a carnival glow, and the scent of grilled food and spilled drinks fills everything.
You find yourself pulled into the flow, the beat catching under your skin. Before you know it, Sunghoon’s hand is at your waist, guiding you. The song is slow, romantic. He pulls you close, fingers curling gently around your back, and you rest your hands lightly on his shoulders. Your bodies move in quiet rhythm, slow and effortless, as if the whole city paused just for this.
You smile, heart quickening. “I like this.”
He tilts your chin up, eyes searching yours in the soft light. “I like you.”
You lean in, the space between you shrinking until it vanishes. His lips meet yours softly at first, almost hesitant—like he’s testing the waters. Then the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more certain, as if he’s been holding back all this time, waiting for this moment. Your breath mingles, hearts racing in sync beneath the glow of the city lights. His hand cradles your cheek gently while the other rests at your waist, pulling you closer. Time seems to stretch and blur, the world around you fading until there’s only the warmth of his mouth and the steady thrum of your heart beating.
When you pull back just slightly, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling.
“Stay with me,” he whispers.
You nod, feeling like maybe this time, you just might.
The two of you stand hand in hand on the rooftop, the warm glow of the block party spilling up in waves beneath you. From this height, the crowd looks like a moving sea of colors and lights, people laughing, dancing, shouting, living. The scent of grilled food drifts up, mixing with the faint coolness of the evening air. Sunghoon leans close, his voice low. “Crazy how something so chaotic can feel… kind of perfect, huh?”
You nod, eyes tracing the tangled web of string lights and pulsing speakers. “Yeah. Like the whole city is alive tonight.”
He shifts closer, hand brushing against yours. “Wish moments like this could last.”
“Maybe they can,” you say quietly.
He smiles, and the city feels a little less loud, a little more yours. The music shifts, the beat quickening. “Come on,” he says suddenly, tugging you down the stairs. The party swirls back to life around you. Laughter, shouting, the pulsing bass, people everywhere, lost in the moment.
He weaves through the crowd with ease, and soon you’re introduced to his crew. Ni-ki, with his sharp smile and easy confidence, Heeseung, calm and steady, and Jake, who’s already handing you a plate piled with grilled skewers.
“Food always tastes better at a party,” Jake says, winking.
You nibble your skewer as Sunghoon leans close. “Ready for round two?” You nod, eyes catching his under the string lights. “Lead the way.”
He takes your hand, pulling you close. This time the dance is lighter, freer. Laughs escaping you both as you spin, move, and find the rhythm together. The cool breeze tousles your hair, and when your eyes meet, the world feels still.
Then, as if drawn by some unspoken magnetism, your lips meet again. Longer, deeper, filled with all the moments you’ve been holding back. The city fades, the music dims, and all that exists is the two of you, tangled in the night.
The party eventually winds down. The music fades into a distant hum, and the crowd thins, laughter turning into quiet goodbyes. You and Sunghoon find yourselves back on the rooftop, wrapped in the calm after the storm.
He pulls you close, the city still glowing faintly beneath you. His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t want this night to end,” he admits, fingers tracing your jaw gently. “I just want to spend every second with you, all of it.”
You meet his gaze, heart fluttering in the quiet morning light.
“Then don’t let it end,” you whisper.
Without another word, he leads you to his car and drives both of you to his apartment. There's no one. Just the two of you. The streets are mostly empty now, painted in the amber hush of early morning, and neither of you says much. There’s something reverent about the silence. Something sacred.
His apartment is dimly lit, clean but lived-in. A hoodie draped over a chair, speakers stacked near the wall, a cracked mug on the counter. It smells like clean linen and something faintly earthy, like cedarwood and mint. Like him.
You stand by the window, looking out at the city, still catching your breath from everything the night had been. Sunghoon walks over slowly, stopping just behind you.
“Still okay?” he asks gently, not touching you yet.
You nod, but your arms stay folded across your chest. “I’m just…” you trail off. “Nervous.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then, “Because of before?”
You glance up at him, and the look in your eyes is answer enough. He exhales slowly. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “But… I want to. I just don’t want to feel like I did back then. Like I’m being discarded.”
Sunghoon gently reaches for your hand, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When you don’t, he interlaces his fingers with yours. “I’m not leaving,” he says. “And you’re not a maybe to me. Not a moment. Not something I’ll ever pretend didn’t happen.”
You meet his eyes. He’s watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. Like the party, the city, the rooftop kiss, none of it compared to now.
“I just want you,” he continues, his voice low, honest. “But only if you want me too. No pretending. No pressure.” Your chest tightens at his words, soft and full and aching all at once.
“I want you, too,” you say.
He leans in slowly, giving you time. When his lips touch yours, it’s careful. Tender. Like a promise sealed in warmth. The rest happens in slow motion. His touch is patient, never rushing, never demanding. It's exploring, learning, and worshipping in the smallest ways. Fingertips over ribs. Lips on your shoulder. Whispered words that you feel more than hear.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs
When he’s finally above you, the space between your bodies gone, he pauses.
“Still okay?”
You nod, breath trembling. “Yes.”
And this time, when he moves, it feels different than anything you’ve known before. Less like being claimed, more like being seen. More like a soft surrender than a loss. Like trust, like healing, like the beginning of something that scares you in the best possible way.
He kisses you again, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, tracing the path from your mouth to your collarbone. The air between you hums with quiet urgency, but he doesn’t rush. His hands, warm and steady, slide along your waist, fingers spreading to map the shape of your hips like he’s memorizing them by touch alone. He takes off your shirt and your bra as his mouth dips lower, breath grazing your chest as he lingers there, almost breathless.
When his lips close around your nipple, it’s not just desire, it’s devotion. He teases gently, tongue flicking in slow, measured circles, then draws it into his mouth with a low hum that vibrates straight through you. A small sound slips from your throat, and your back arches instinctively, pulling him closer. Your hands run along the muscles of his back, slipping under his shirt, and when he takes it off, your palms find his skin. Warm. Solid. Real.
You don't realize you're trembling until he kisses you again, slower this time, his hands stroking your sides in calming rhythms. It feels like he’s grounding you, anchoring you to something steady. Something safe. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, voice low and almost hoarse.
You nod. “Yes. I just…” The words tangle in your throat, soft with uncertainty. “I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.”
Sunghoon stills for a moment, then leans in and brushes his nose against yours. “It’s not,” he says. “It won’t be. I want all of you. Over and over again. Every day, in every light.”
And there’s something in the way he says it, not just lust but need, aching and honest, that makes your heart ache in return. He kisses you again, deeper now, more sure, and when his body presses against yours fully, you feel it. Not just the strength, the warmth, the barely restrained hunger, but more than that. The care. The weight of someone who’s choosing you with intention. With hope and love.
Clothes fall away slowly, piece by piece – his jeans pushed down, your panties hooked off with careful fingers. Every touch is unhurried, a question offered and answered with soft nods, with the way your bodies lean into each other like magnets finding their pull.
When he lowers himself between your legs, it’s with the kind of attention that steals the air from your lungs. His touch is patient and precise. Not performing, not taking, but offering. Learning what makes your breath catch, what makes your thighs tense, what makes your hands grip the sheets. He listens. Responds. Adjusts. And when your fingers clutch his and your body arches, he doesn’t stop, he stays with you, holding you through the waves until you’re gasping his name.
He comes back to you slowly, kissing your cheek, your shoulder, the hollow at your throat. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers again. “Every part of you. Every sound you make.”
You pull him into another kiss, messier this time, needier, your body flushed and open beneath him. And when he finally enters into you, slowly and carefully, there’s a stillness that settles between you. A hush. Like the world has narrowed down to just this. Your breath in his mouth, the trembling of his hands as they cradle your face, the way your hips tilt to meet his like you’ve always known how.
He moves gently, each thrust a question, each gasp of yours an answer. There’s no distance now. No room for fear, no room for the walls you once guarded so carefully. Only skin. Heat. The shared rhythm of two people choosing to be seen.
You moan his name like it’s sacred. He moans yours like it’s a prayer.
Time bends. The world blurs. The build-up is slow and inevitable, like tides pulling you under. And when the high finally hits, it’s not sharp. It’s soft. Blooming. It ripples through your body like light, like warmth, and Sunghoon doesn’t let go. He stays with you, wrapped around you, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, even as his own body trembles above you.
After, neither of you speaks for a long moment. You lie tangled together, your heartbeat still racing, your skin dewy with sweat. His chest rises and falls against yours, his fingers tracing slow circles along your spine.
“You feeling okay?” he murmurs against your temple.
You nod, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He pulls you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, his warmth seeping into you like a slow-burning fire. His lips find yours again, soft yet urgent. Every kiss is a promise, every touch a confession. You let yourself fall into the moment completely, unguarded and safe. The outside world disappears, leaving only the steady rhythm of two hearts learning to beat as one.
“I want to be with you,” he whispers, voice rough with feeling. You smile, a warmth blooming inside that no words can quite capture. “I want that, too.”
And in that quiet, fragile space, the future feels wide open, waiting just for the two of you.
Yay, another fanfic! This one feels deeply personal to me, as I relate to Y/N a little too much here. I’m, surprisingly(?), a big hater of hookup culture. Oh, and I also dated a breakdancer, lol. Hope you liked it! If you want to get a feel for the dance battles, I highly recommend looking them up on YouTube. My favourite one is this one, because I've met Kriss myself many times, and even used to take his classes.
I've been watching ni-ki lives recently and god, have you heard him purring like literal puma? it's so hot, I bet he purrs like this while making out. omg I'm gonna go crazy about this. can you please write something about it?
The journey from the couch to his room was a haze of soft touches and softer kisses. His bedroom was spartan, neat, a reflection of a life lived mostly out of a suitcase, but it was his. The moment the door clicked shut, the last vestige of the outside world fell away, and it was just the two of you, breathing each other in.
And that's when you heard it. As he leaned in to kiss you again, a slow, deep exploration of your mouth that made your thighs clench, a low, rumbling vibration started in his chest. It was a purr. A resonant, guttural hum that you felt more than heard, a physical manifestation of his contentment and focus. The fans were right; he was a puma. All sharp, predatory grace on stage, but here, in the quiet dark, he was a big cat, luxuriating in the warmth and closeness.
The sound was intoxicating. Every time his lips met yours, every time his tongue swept against yours, the purr would deepen, vibrating through his chest and into yours. It was an involuntary soundtrack to his pleasure, and it made you feel powerful, desperate to hear more of it. You arched into him, your hands sliding from his back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper.
You could feel the hard, insistent line of him straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your thigh, a stark contrast to the lazy, worshipful pace of his kisses.
He was in no rush. He seemed to savor the ache, the building tension. He wanted to languish in this lazy moment, to map the landscape of your mouth and body with a painstaking slowness that was driving you mad.
But you couldn't wait. The purrs, the feel of him, the knowledge that you were the one causing this... it was too much. You needed to take back a sliver of control.
With a surge of boldness, you broke the kiss. His eyes, heavy; lidded and dark with desire, blinked open in question. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pushed gently at his shoulders until he sat back on the edge of the bed. You knelt on the floor between his legs, your own heart hammering a frantic rhythm.
His eyes widened, understanding dawning.
"Y/N..." he started, his voice a rough whisper, the purr cutting off into a sharp intake of breath.
You looked up at him, your hands settling on his knees. "I want to hear you," you whispered, your own voice trembling with a mix of nerves and want. "I want to make you feel good."
You didn't wait for permission. Your hands slid up his thighs, and you leaned forward, pressing your mouth to him through the soft fabric of his sweatpants. The purr returned instantly, lower, more strained this time, a ragged growl of pure anticipation. You nuzzled him, your hands working to push the waistband down, freeing him. He was thick and heavy in your hand, hot and painfully hard.
You took your time, exploring him first with your hands, learning the shape and weight of him, stroking slowly, watching the way his abs clenched and his head fell back, a string of low, guttural Korean curses and praises falling from his lips. The purr was a constant, vibrating hum now, cut by sharp hisses when your thumb swiped over the head.
Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth. The purr shattered into a broken, choked off groan. His hands fisted in the sheets, his hips giving an involuntary jerk before he forced them still. "Ah—fuck—Y/N..." He was babbling, his deep voice cracking. You worked him slowly, tentatively at first; swirling your tongue around the tip, sucking on it with your slurping sounds mixing with the vibrations of his purrs.
Then with more confidence as his reactions guided you; You slacked your jaw and took all of him, flatting your tongue under his length, moving your head up and down to get more sounds out of him. The way his purrs would stutter and deepen when you did something he liked, the way his thighs trembled under your hands. You’d moan around him and his hips would jerk, a high pitched whimper would come out and you’d try so hard not to smile around him.
So instead, you swallowed and his tip felt your throat close and open, and his control snapped. With a growl that was all predator, he pulled from your hair and took his dick out of your mouth, a long stripe of saliva threading his tip to your lips, and spit running down your chin. He hauled you up from the floor and onto the bed, reversing your positions in one fluid motion, his body caging you beneath him. His eyes were wild, his breathing ragged.
"My turn," he rasped, the purr back in his chest, a promise of what was to come.
He took you apart with the same meticulous, worshipful attention, but now there was a raw, desperate edge to it. He pulled your shorts down, and saw the wet patch on your panties.
“Did you get wet from sucking me off or have you been like this since our kisses?” he teased. You smirked and licked your lips, removing your panties yourself.
“Try to guess from how wet I am.” you whispered and he let out a groan, a purr so bad you were sure you already soaked his sheets. He reached forward and leaned on his elbows to see you closer, but instead of kissing you like how you thought he was, he stuck his tongue out and licked the spit on your chin and his precum and sealed his mouth on your lips.
Your eyes widened with the act, his kisses had turned sloppy in a second. He was sucking your lips, your tongue and you couldn’t keep up with him as your jaw was sore from blowing him off. He purred again, he fucking purred again at the feeling of his own taste. You brought your hands to his hair and pulled onto the locks for something, for a stimulation and he just kept growling into your mouth.
Ni-ki’s fingers dipped to your wet pussy, collecting the wetness on his fingers and coating all of your cunt with it. His finger pushed in, and then the other. You clenched around him as he rubbed on the same spot, pulling in and out, going up and down that your hips started shaking.
“Ni-ki—“ you gasped, and he pulled his hands out quickly to get rid of his sweats.
“No, I need you to cum on my dick. I’ve been waiting for this the whole day.”
When he finally, slowly, sank into you, filling the empty, aching space within, he buried his face in your neck, his body trembling with the effort of his restraint. And he was purring again. The low, resonant rumble vibrated through your entire body as he began to move, a slow, deep, devastating rhythm.
"You feel so good," he growled into your ear, his voice so deep it was barely intelligible, just another layer of sensation. "So tight for me. Taking me so well, my good girl."
He was filthy and reverent all at once. He was telling you how perfect you were, how beautiful you looked beneath him, while simultaneously degrading you in the most delicious way, calling you his greedy, perfect little thing, telling you how he could feel you clenching around him, begging for more.
“Look how pretty you look, messy and drooling under me.” he looked down at your body, the way your face reflected the bliss you were feeling, the way your chin glistened with his saliva, lips a dark red from kissing, eyes teary from overloaded pleasure. He kept groaning, kept hissing from between his teeth that made you clench even harder.
“You’re so greedy, aren’t you?” he purred to your ear, and slid his hands to your neck. You were so gone that he had to shake your jaw for you to open your eyes. You looked at him, barely focusing on him. “You’re not letting me go, baby, how tight you’re squeezing me. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be fucking you all night.”
Every word, every purr, every slow, deliberate thrust was designed to unravel you. He was drawing out your pleasure, building it with an expert's patience, his own release a secondary goal to yours. The combination of his deep, purring voice in your ear, the filthy, loving words, and the overwhelming physical sensation was too much. His groans got louder, and he held your throat as he kept drilling into you that you had to hold onto the pillow under your head.
You came apart with a broken cry, your body arching off the bed, seeing stars.
His own control broke then. His purr became a raw, guttural roar as he followed you over the edge, his body slumping against yours, his weight a comforting, solid presence.
Your ragged breaths and the fading echo of his purrs filled the room, a contented hum against your skin. He had taken you nice and slow just as he'd wanted, and in doing so, he'd ruined you for anyone else. You were his, and he was finally, completely, content.
Hoon touching himself in front of you without you touching him or yourself (he tied your hands) because you’ve been a brat all day and he loves seeing you desesperate and needy and crying because you can’t touch neither him or yourself 😭
TONGUE TIED, park sunghoon
warnings: brat tamer!sunghoon x brat!fem!reader, rough sex, oral (f.rec), p in v, unprotected sex (let’s not), pussy slapping, degradation, praising.
You knew you'd gone too far.
The entire night had been a carefully calculated performance on your part. A bratty comment when he introduced you to his CEO, a flirty laugh that lingered a second too long with his choreographer, a deliberate "forgetting" of his hand on your lower back as you walked through the crowd. Each act was a tiny rebellion, a spark thrown onto the kindling of his notoriously short fuse. You did it for the thrill, for the secret, shivering knowledge of what was to come.
On the car ride home, the silence was a physical thing, thick and heavy. Sunghoon's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw a hard line. He didn't look at you once. You sat in the passenger seat, your heart hammering against your ribs, the sequins of your dress suddenly feeling cheap and scratchy against your overheated skin. You knew. You knew exactly what was waiting for you behind the pristine doors of his apartment.
The moment the door clicked shut, the facade shattered.
He didn't say a word. He simply turned, his eyes black with a fury that was entirely sexual, and grabbed your wrist. His grip was iron, unyielding, as he dragged you down the hallway to the bedroom. Your half formed apologies and nervous giggles died in your throat, replaced by a genuine, thrilling spike of fear.
"Sunghoon, wait—"
He ignored you, his movements efficient and cold. He pushed you onto the bed, the silk duvet cool against your back. With practiced, almost clinical precision, he stripped you, the rip of your dress's side zipper loud in the quiet room. The way he moved on top of you, not even looking at your face when he took your bra off, you couldn’t even grab his arms as you were scared of him for the first time. He then harshly slid your panties down your legs, scoffing at the wet patch on them. You were left bare, shivering under his intense gaze. Then, from the nightstand, he produced a pair of soft, padded cuffs. Your eyes widened.
“Fucking soaking wet like a slut, that’s what you take from tonight?” he asked but not expecting an answer. He was really angry, you could tell. This was not like the others.
"Please," you begged, your voice a whisper as he secured your wrists to the bedposts, then your ankles to the footboard, spreading you open, utterly exposed. "I'm sorry, I'll be good, I promise."
He spoke, his voice a low, dangerous hum. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"
You expected a spanking, perhaps. A rough, punishing fuck. But Sunghoon was more creative than that. He stood back, his eyes raking over your helpless form, lingering on the betraying glisten of wetness already gathering between your parted thighs. A slow, cruel smile touched his lips.
"You look so pretty like this," he mused, his tone conversational. "All laid out for me. Just like you wanted all that attention tonight, hm? Wanted everyone to look at you.”
Instead, he began to undress himself, his eyes locked on yours. Slowly, agonizingly, he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He unbuckled his belt, the slide of leather through loops sounding obscenely loud in the quiet room. He stepped out of his trousers, until he was standing gloriously naked before you, fully, impressively erect. When he was just as naked as you were, he sat in the plush armchair opposite the bed, stretching his long legs out. Your mouth watered.
His hand wrapped around his length, which was already hard and weeping. He gave a slow, languid stroke, his head tilting back as he watched you. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "My pretty little brat, all tied up. Can't cause any trouble like this, can you?"
"No," you whimpered, straining against the cuffs. "Don't... please, let me touch you." You tried to squeeze your legs together for some friction, but the tie held them apart. putting your desperate, glistening core on full display for him.
"That's the point, baby," he said, his voice dripping with condescending sweetness. "You don't get to. You lost that privilege when you acted like a spoiled little brat all night, trying to make me jealous. Did you like it? Did you like seeing me get angry?"
“Please…”
"You see this?" he said, his pace picking up slightly. "This is what you do to me. Even when you're being a spoiled, insufferable little thing, my body still wants you. It's pathetic, really." He groaned, his hips lifting off the chair. "But look at you. Even more pathetic. So wet for me and you can't do a damn thing about it, can you? You can't touch yourself. You can't touch me. All you can do is watch and take what I give you."
Tears of frustration welled in your eyes. The humiliation was a live wire, but it was tangled with a desperate, clawing arousal. You were so wet it was embarrassing, a slick pool beneath you, and he could see it all. He kept talking, his words a mix observation that landed harsher than any spank could do.
"Look at you. So desperate because you can't come. Because you can't even rub your little clit without my permission. This is what you wanted, isn't it? My undivided attention."
He continued to stroke himself, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing to a maddening tease, all while watching you fall apart. It felt like hours. The ache between your legs was a constant, throbbing pain. You were sobbing openly now, no longer performative, but genuine, raw pleas falling from your lips.
Tears of frustration and humiliation welled in your eyes, spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks. His harsh words were twisted kind of aphrodisiac, the humiliation only feeding the fire in your belly. You were so aroused it was a physical ache, a deep, throbbing need that was being utterly ignored.
"Please, Sunghoon," you sobbed, your pride completely gone. "I need you. I can't... I can't stand it."
He watched you cry for a long moment, his hand still working himself, his breath coming in harsh pants. The cruel smirk slowly faded from his lips, replaced by something darker, more intense. Something like awe.
"Tell me," he commanded, his voice rough. "Tell me what you need."
"You," you choked out, your body trembling violently. "I only need you. I was stupid, I was so stupid. I just... I just wanted you to look at me like this. To want me like this. I just love you so much it makes me crazy sometimes. I'm yours. Only yours."
That was what broke him. In an instant, he was off the chair and on the bed, his body covering yours. But the punishment wasn't over; it just transformed. "Mine," he growled against your ear, his fingers finally, finally dipping between your legs. You cried out as two fingers slid into you, curling expertly, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "This wet, messy cunt is mine. Every sob, every tear is mine."
He added his mouth to his mouth, his tongue lapping at your arousal with a fervor that bordered on worship, fingers torturing you at the same time. He ate you out like a man starved, his groans vibrating against your clit, he teethed around your sensitive nub and made you jerk your hips up with overstimulation, pushing you swiftly towards a shattering, screaming orgasm that left you sobbing his name.
But he wasn't done. He pushed your legs wider, and gripped the back of your head to get you closer to him. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice now thick with passion, He positioned himself at your entrance. "Look at me when I take what's mine."
You were so wet that he slid into you in one smooth, powerful thrust, filling you completely. The feeling was so intense after the prolonged denial that you screamed, your back arching off the bed.
"That's it, baby," he panted, his rhythm hard and deep, his eyes locked on yours. "You take me so well. My perfect girl. My beautiful, bratty, perfect girl. I love you. I love you so much it drives me insane.”
“I can’t, too much,” you almost screamed, but he drilled into you harder and his fingertips landed on your cunt as a small spank, your hardened clit throbbing with your previous orgasm and pain.
“You can and you will, you’ll take me like the desperate slut you are.” He growled, pinching your nipples as he squeezed and held onto them. “Or I won’t let you touch me ever again.”
Sunghoon’s one hand slid to the base of your neck, and you held your breath as he slowly made his way to the top, slightly applying pressure to the sides of your neck. His other hand played with your clit at the same time, circling and pinching. He felt your walls clenching, and your body trembled under him, your legs were shaking hard. He was whispering a constant stream of filth and adoration into your ear. "You feel so good wrapped around me. So tight. Come for me, baby. Come for me again. Let me feel you."
His words, his touch, the overwhelming stimulation; it was too much. Another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching uncontrollably, body convulsing around him. You flooded him, juices covering his abdomen and squeezing his cock out, but he pushed himself in you anyway as you cried out.
“There you go, milk me dry baby.” With a guttural roar, he followed you over the edge, his own cum pumping into you, his body collapsing atop yours, shuddering.
For a long time the only sound was your ragged breathing mingling together. He shifted, still buried inside you, and brushed the tear tracks from your cheeks with a tenderness that made you want to cry all over again. "My good girl," he chanted, his breath hot in your ear. "My beautiful, perfect girl. You're mine. All mine."
He freed you from the restraints, big hands warming up your wrists and shoulders. You curled into him, still trembling.
"Never doubt that you're mine," he whispered, his lips against your forehead. "But if you ever pull a stunt like that again," he added, a hint of the earlier danger returning to his voice, "the ties stay on all night.”
You shivered, pressing closer. You knew it wasn't a threat. It was a promise. And you couldn't wait.
☆彡 @lilidiors @sungheeke @kookiesnkim @xoseos
let me know if you want to be added to my permanent taglist!
omg i really loved your last hards though !! Maybe I can ask a fix based on the Sunghoon one ? Like this :
Sexual tension during movie night with Sunghoon x reader like they’re just friends from college like for 3 months maybe? And there was always a sort of tension like light touch, secret glance, jealousy etc and this night it was painfully and they compared their hands and there was so much tension he was imagining your longs nails scratching his back and you were imagining your hands wrapped around his cck and then they kiss so passionately and deep then maybe dry humping ? Without talking just whimper and heavy breathing and intense glance and reader scratching his shoulder and scalp? And he is like don’t hide your moan etc so she moan loud and he was so mesmerized and they came ??? Yeah I’m h down bad for tension between friends and dry humping
DRY HUMPING, park sunghoon (smut)
my first request aww 🩷 i’m so thankful for your support!
afab!reader, sunghoon comes in his gray sweatpants… they don’t really talk much, kinda a situationship at the end.
hard thoughts: hand size comparison & heeseung verdion
The air in Sunghoon's apartment was thick, heavy with an unspoken truth that had been simmering for three months. It was a living entity, this tension, coiling in the space between you on the sofa as the movie played, its plot a distant noise.
You were acutely aware of every inch separating you from Sunghoon. He was a paradox, an easygoing smile masking his intense, possessive side. For three months, you had existed in this liminal space: college friends who lingered a second too long after hugs, whose hands brushed when passing a coffee cup, whose laughter was always a little too bright, a little too aware.
Tonight was different. The tension wasn't a simmer; it was a boiling lid tightly sealed. It was his fault, he’d chosen a film with an intimate, slow burn love story, and every charged glance, every confession between the characters felt like a mirror held up to their own desires. He sat close, closer than usual, his thigh a solid line pressed against yours from knee to hip. You could feel the heat of him through the soft fabric of your leggings, a reminder of his presence.
You dared a glance at him from under your lashes. The flickering blue light from the television played over the sharp planes of his face, highlighting the intense focus in his eyes. He wasn't watching the movie; he was feeling the same electric current you were.
On screen, the male lead tenderly took the female lead’s hand, their fingers lacing together. It was a soft, romantic gesture.
"You know, your hands are really small," Sunghoon's voice was a low rumble, startling you out of your thoughts. Your heart hammered against your ribs. He was looking at you, his gaze dark and unreadable.
"Yours are just big," you managed, voice breathier than you intended. He didn't smile. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand and placed it palm-up on the cushion between you. An invitation. A challenge.
Swallowing hard, you placed your hand in his. The contact was a jolt, a live wire connecting you two. His fingers were indeed long and elegant, a skater's hands, strong and calloused in places. Your own, with their recently trimmed but still pointed nails, looked delicate against his pale skin. He turned your hand over, his thumb tracing the lines of your palm, then sliding up to press against the pads of your fingers. "Your nails," he murmured, his voice dropping another octave. "They're sharp."
A flash of pure, unadulterated heat shot through you. At that moment, you weren’t seeing your hands anymore. You were imagining those nails scraping down the bare skin of his back, leaving faint, pink trails in their wake. You pictured his muscles tensing, a hiss of pleasure and pain escaping his lips as you marked him.
Sunghoon's breath hitched. His thumb pressed harder against your nail, and his eyes, when they met yours, were blazing with a fire that stole the air from your lungs. He was thinking the exact same thing, you could see it. He was imagining the sting of your scratches, the possession of it. But his imagination, it seemed, had taken a more explicit turn. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, then down to where your hand was still holding his. A wicked thought clouded his expression. You followed his line of sight, from your slender fingers to the noticeable, hard ridge tenting his gray sweatpants.
Your mouth went dry. You weren't imagining his back anymore. You were imagining your hand wrapping around that hard length, feeling the heat of him, the weight of him in your palm. You imagined his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned.
The rest came fast. There was no more slow burn, no more tentative glances. In one fluid motion, Sunghoon's free hand came up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you in, and his mouth crashed down on yours.
It wasn't a gentle kiss, it was a war, it was three months of pent up longing, jealousy, and desperate want unleashed in a single moment. His lips were insistent, demanding, and you met him with equal fervor, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.
A low groan vibrated from his chest into yours. His taste was the popcorn you’d eaten and something uniquely him. His tongue swept into your mouth, and you welcomed it, a desperate whimper catching in your throat.
He broke the kiss only to shift, his arms hooking under your thighs and hauling your body onto his lap, straddling him. The new position pressed your core directly against the hardness of him, and a sharp, involuntary gasp came out of your lips. You could feel him, thick and straining against his sweatpants, right where you needed him most.
Sunghoon's hands clamped onto your hips, his grip almost bruising. His eyes, dark as spilled ink, locked with yours. No words spoken, none needed. The ragged sound of your breathing, the soft, wet sounds of your kisses, and the faint noise from the forgotten movie were the only soundtrack.
He began to move you, a slow, grinding roll of your hips against his. The friction, even through your clothes, was maddening. Pleasure, sharp and bright, reached through you, and your head fell back, a broken moan escaping your lips before you could stop it.
Instinctively, you tried to stifle the next one, biting down hard on your swollen lower lip. You guys were friends.i and this was new, you shouldn't be this loud, this unrestrained.
Sunghoon's one hand left your hip and cupped your jaw, his thumb pressing against your lip to free it from your teeth. His voice was a raw, low command in the dim room.
"Don't." That single word, filled with so much heat and possession, shattered the last of your shyness. He wanted to hear you, no, he needed it.
Gaining confidence, you rocked against him again, more deliberately this time, and let the moan flow freely and loud. The sound seemed to electrify him. A shudder wracked his frame, and a deep, ragged groan rumbled from his chest.
"Again," he breathed against your mouth before capturing your lips in another kiss.
Your hands, that were gripping his shoulders, slid up into his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. The effect was instantaneous. He moaned into your mouth, the sound desperate and lost in pleasure. He loved it. He ground up against you, his own movements becoming more frantic, more urgent.
His hands slid from your hips down to your ass, gripping you firmly, guiding you, helping you set a rhythm that was both torturous and delicious. The rough fabric of his sweatpants rubbed against the sensitive nub of your clit through your leggings, each pass sending jolts of white hot pleasure through your nervous system, every nerve ending screaming for more.
You scratched his scalp again, other hand moving to his nape, inside his t-shirt to now dig right into the hot skin of his back. He moaned even louder, and you loved hearing it as much as he loved hearing your moans. He was murmuring your name against your skin, a broken litany between fevered kisses trailed along your jaw and down your neck. "Y/N... fuck... Y/N."
“Keep moaning for me.” you whispered, and he let out a growl that broke out at the end into a whine, the high pitched sound made you clench into nothing. The pressure inside you was building to an unbearable peak. Your moans became constant, breathy pleas and sharp cries that you made no attempt to hide. You were lost in the sensation of him; the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the hard, relentless pressure of him between your legs, and the way he was coming completely undone beneath your touch.
He was mesmerized by your sounds, his eyes glazed with lust, watching your face as you fell apart above him. Every moan that fell from your lips drove him closer to the edge. His breathing was a ragged sawing in your ear, his body tensing like a coiled spring beneath yours.
"I'm... I'm close," you gasped, rhythm faltering as the first waves of your climax began to crash over you.
That was all it took for him. His eyes squeezed shut, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His grip on your hips tight like clamps, holding you flush against him as he shuddered and drove up into you one last time.
"Y/N!" Your name was a raw, torn shout as his own release ripped through him.
You felt the hot, wet spread of it through his sweatpants, the final, intimate shockwave that sent you tumbling over the edge after him. Your climax was a silent scream, your body seizing, back arching violently as pure, blinding pleasure took over you. Your nails clawed his shoulders, surely leaving half-moon marks later, as you rode out the waves, moans softening into helpless, shuddering whimpers.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of both of your harsh, panting breaths mingling in the air. The movie credits were now rolling, casting shifting lights over your tangled, spent forms.
Slowly, reality seeped back in. You became aware of the damp patch on his sweatpants, the stickiness against your own leggings. The evidence of what you’d just done. You were still straddling him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your body trembling with aftershocks.
Sunghoon's arms, which had been locked around you, loosened. One hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle now. He tilted his head, his lips brushing your temple in a soft, lingering kiss that was a stark contrast to the frantic passion of moments before.
You were both silent but the heavy breathing. The tension that had defined you for months had just broken, leaving in its wake a new, terrifying opportunity. You were no longer just friends from college. What you were now, as they sat in the quiet dark, tangled together and breathing one air, was a question for which neither of you had an answer yet.
hiii ><
idk if ur reqs are open buttt if they are -
reader having baby fever after seeing cute little kids at the mall w sunghoon
and then after they get home, sunghoon rly gives her a baby TT
likeee hard dom maybee
tyyy ^^
GIVE ME THEM BABIES, park sunghoon
warnings: non-idol!sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, marriage dynamics? (mentions of wife and husband), creampie, unprotected s*x (wrap before u trap), multiple orgasms, fingering, cum play?, breeding, praising and degradation.
a/n: hi anon!! i have a req similar to this, so i’m planning to make this a part 1, and then i’ll write a part 2 and ofc add link!
The trigger was a little girl in a yellow dress, no older than three, sitting on her father's shoulders in the mall. She was giggling, her tiny fists tangled in her father's hair, and she dropped a stuffed bunny. You instinctively bent to pick it up, handing it back to her with a smile. Her chubby fingers brushed yours, and she gave you a gummy, heart stopping grin.
Something primal and deep within you clenched, a hollow, aching want. You were quiet for the rest of the trip.
Sunghoon being an observant boyfriend, noticed. His hand, which had been a comforting weight on the small of your back, slid down to curl possessively around your hip.
"You've been quiet since we saw that kid," he remarked once you were back in your shared apartment, his voice casual but his eyes sharp.
You busied yourself with putting away the shopping bags, avoiding his gaze. "It's nothing. She was just... really cute."
He didn't buy it. He moved behind you, his body caging you against the kitchen counter. His lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Cute, huh?" he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Is that all?"
You melted back against him, a soft sigh escaping you. "Hoon..."
"Tell me," he commanded, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly register that made your knees weak. His hands slid around your waist, splaying across your stomach. "What were you thinking about when you looked at her? Hmm?"
You shook your head, embarrassment and desire warring within you.
He spun you around to face him, his gaze dark and intense. "You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he pressed, his palm pressing firmly against your lower abdomen. "About what it would be like to have my child growing in here."
A hot flush spread across your chest and up your neck. You tried to look away, but he caught your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
"Answer me."
"Yes," you whispered, the admission feeling both shameful and exhilarating.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. "My greedy girl. You don't just want my cock, do you? You want me to put a baby in you."
Sunghoon didn't wait for an answer. He crushed his mouth to yours in a searing kiss, all teeth and insanity. He grabbed your hips, squeezing them as you jumped on him. You could feel his erection as he carried you to the bedroom, he laid you down gently.
He loomed over you, stripping off his shirt, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. "You were looking at that little girl and picturing yourself round with my child. Weren't you?"
"Yes, Sunghoon," you breathed, your pussy clenching with need.
"Say it." He unbuckled his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops stark in the quiet room. "Tell me what you want."
"I want... I want your baby," you confessed, the words feeling both sacred and filthy.
He was on you in an instant, his body a heavy, welcome weight. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, his other hand tearing at your clothes. "Such a desperate slut. All it takes is one look at a pretty baby and you're dripping for me, aren't you? Begging to be filled."
He didn't bother with foreplay. He was too far gone, and so were you. He shoved your legs apart and sank into you in one brutal, perfect thrust. You cried out, arching off the bed, the stretch and fullness overwhelming.
"This what you wanted?" he growled, his hips setting a punishing rhythm from the start. "You want me to fuck a baby into this perfect little cunt?"
"Yes! Please, Hoon, please," you sobbed, your nails digging into his back.
He leaned down, his lips against your ear, his voice a venomous, loving caress. "You'd be such a good mother. So beautiful, carrying my child. Everyone would look at you, round and glowing, and know you're mine. That I did this to you."
Sunghoon was sending you spiraling toward the edge faster than ever. His words painted a vivid picture, and your body responded, clenching around him, milking him.
“I’ll be the best father,” his moans turned into whimpers, his hips stuttering against yours. He still thrusted hard and fast, but he was shattering on top of you with overwhelming emotions. “Oh god, I’ll be the best husband for you. I’ll treat you and our baby so good, you’re my everything.”
You clenched even more at his words, pulling him down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth, and he caught it with his lips on yours. He was imagining your breasts full with milk, your thighs thicker and stomach carrying his seed.
"You're going to come for me," he commanded, his pace becoming frantic, brutal. His thumb flicked your clit at the same time, overstimulation making your juices wash all over him. "Come all over my cock. Show me how much you want it. How much you want to be the mother of my children.”
The command, the image, the feel of him hitting that deep, perfect spot; made you shatter, a broken scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and violent.
Sunghoon followed with a guttural groan, his body slamming into you one last time as he spilled deep inside you, his release hot and endless. He collapsed on top of you, his breath ragged in your ear, his weight pinning you to the mattress, making you feel utterly possessed.
But he wasn't done. After a few moments, when your breathing had just begun to even out, you felt him stir inside you. He was still hard.
You whimpered, oversensitive. "Hoon..."
He pulled out only to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you were on your knees. "I'm not done with you," he said, his voice rough with intent. He looked at your clenching, leaking hole. His white cum was dripping slowly, your hips still twitched, reddened handprints on your hips more visible like this. He put two of his fingers where his cum almost dripped onto the sheets, and slid it back into your pussy, making you whimper.
“You look so pretty like this, my beautiful girl.” he said as he buried two of his fingers in you, feeling the velvety texture of your ruined walls. They pulsated around his digits, and he scissored to get you ready for him again.
You were moaning, holding onto the sheets, the headboard, the pillow, even you tried grabbing his hands that was on the plush of your ass, but he smacked your hand away. When you tried running away from him, he smacked your ass this time, earning a yelp from you.
“You’re not running from me, you wanted me to breed you, so stay and take it.”
“I’m gonna cum, please.” you moaned, and he pulled his fingers out, entered you again from behind, this stroke even deeper. "I'm going to make sure it takes. I'm going to fill you up until there's no doubt. Until my cum is leaking out of you for days and you can't think of anything but me, and the family we're going to make."
Sunghoon creamed you again, his hips stilling inside you, his large hands holding your hips against him. You were boneless, immediately falling when he let go, and he was also tired. But that didn’t stop him, he got hard again when he saw how you leaked. Your your beaten up red cunt still clenched, oozing his pearly white cum.
He went on, round after relentless round. Against the wall, on the floor, back on the bed. He was a man possessed, his sole focus on seeding you, on marking you from the inside out.
"You take me so well, my love. My perfect girl. You're going to look so beautiful pregnant. I'm going to take care of you. Of both of you.”
When he finally, finally stilled, the room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. The sun had long since set. You were boneless, utterly spent, and felt so full of him you were dizzy with it.
He pulled you against his chest, his arms like steel bands around you, his hand splayed once more over your stomach. He rubbed circles, thinking of the way it will be swollen with a baby, already feeling the kicks. He’d been in love with your lower belly since you started dating, it’d always awakened a primal desire in him, he’d kiss it during foreplay, or when your shirt rode up when you were on the couch. You had no idea how you affected him.
"It's going to happen," he whispered into your hair, his voice now soft, laced with a terrifying, beautiful certainty. "I'm going to make you a mother. You're mine, forever."
And as you drifted into an exhausted sleep, cradled in his fierce, possessive embrace, you knew he was right. And you had never wanted anything more.
x
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