Hinhin

for : every seconds of bloom and love.

[jjb25]

Myeong hee deserves the world

[elikajinnie]

Hiii I love your fanfics!!😭🩷

Can u write something on sunoo like horror au or thriller au?

Fallen Angel - K.S

THANK YOUUUU!!<333 Omg i have so many horror au drafts right now. It`s really giving me motivation.

P: Devil!Sunoo X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood/Injury, Rituals & Cult-like Activity, Obsessive Love, Body Worship, Murder, Corruption, Falling In Love, Stalking?

Synopsis: A seemingly innocent walk through the forest turns into a chilling nightmare, and your soul becomes the ultimate prize for the devil himself. With a captivating presence and an insatiable desire for you, he reveals that your fate is now intertwined with his. And he will keep you by his side.

a/n: I am a sucker for paranormal movies :p the start is inspired by Jennifer`s body :) HAPPY HELL WEEK!! (iykyk)

"The Devil is real and he's not some little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful because he's a fallen angel and he used to be God's favourite."

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

You come downstairs after slipping into more comfortable clothes, ready for a walk. The house is quiet, your steps light on the wooden floor as you head toward the door. Living on the outskirts of town has its perks, and your favorite one is the forest. It's a place of solace, a space where you can let your thoughts wander freely as you walk beneath the trees.

You pull on your shoes, grab your jacket from the hook by the door, and fish your phone out of your pocket. A playlist hums to life in your ears, setting the mood. With your keys in hand, you lock the door behind you, the soft click signaling the start of your escape into the wild.

The gravel crunches beneath your feet, the small stones and twigs snapping with every step. There’s something rhythmic in the way the sound mixes with the music, creating its own sort of tune. You follow the familiar path, the forest looming ahead, inviting you in. As the trees grow taller around you, the ground changes, becoming softer, more forgiving underfoot. The scent of pine and earth fills the air, fresh and damp. Sunlight filters through in thin beams, casting long, golden shadows on the forest floor.

Your breathing syncs with the rhythm of your steps, steady and calm. The music playing in your ears becomes a backdrop to the symphony of nature—birds chirping somewhere above, the distant rustle of small animals moving through the underbrush. You can feel the world quieting around you, like the forest itself is protecting you from the noise and chaos of everyday life.

The deeper you go, the more peaceful it becomes. The path you walk is familiar, worn by countless footsteps over the years, but every time it feels new, like the forest shifts and breathes with the seasons. You pause for a moment, standing still, letting the quiet wash over you. There’s a comfort in this silence, a stillness that fills you.

But as you take a breath, something in the air changes. It’s subtle at first—like the shift in a breeze before a storm. The trees, once inviting, now seem to lean in closer. The shadows deepen, stretching out in unfamiliar shapes. The music in your ears feels distant now, as if it’s being drowned out by the weight of the silence.

Your steps slow, and the crackle of a twig behind you makes you stop altogether. You turn, scanning the trees, expecting to see nothing but the familiar outline of trunks and branches. But for a moment, just a brief flicker, you think you see movement—something or someone slipping between the trees, too fast to catch.

The forest, once a place of peace, now feels different.

Your heart quickens, instinctively telling you something is wrong. The peaceful stillness of the forest now feels like a trap. Slowly, you turn around, careful not to make any sudden movements, your instincts screaming at you to leave. The music in your ears lowers into the background, drowned out by the rushing pulse of your own heartbeat. You try to stay calm, taking slow steps back in the direction of home, eyes scanning the forest around you.

But the feeling doesn’t go away. Every shadow seems to shift, every tree leaning just a little too close. The forest, once familiar, now feels foreign, hostile even. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and your steps quicken. You need to get out of here.

Just as you pick up the pace, something moves at the corner of your vision. You freeze. Slowly, you glance around, and that’s when you see them—figures, barely visible at first, blending into the dark shadows of the trees. Cloaked in black, their faces hidden, they move with eerie silence. One, then two, then more of them, appearing from the forest as if they’ve always been there, watching.

Panic surges through you. You turn fully now, ready to run, but it’s too late. The forest around you is no longer empty. They’ve surrounded you, their dark forms closing in like a tightening net. Your breath catches in your throat as you search for a way out, but there’s none.

Before you can even react, something hard strikes the side of your head. Pain explodes in your skull, and the world around you spins wildly. The ground seems to rush up to meet you as your vision blurs, darkening around the edges. The last thing you feel is the cold, unforgiving earth beneath you as consciousness slips away, pulling you into a deep, heavy darkness.

When you finally come to, your head throbs with pain. Your eyelids flutter open, and the first thing you notice is that you’re propped up against a large, moss-covered stone, the dampness of it seeping through your clothes.

Panic sets in as you realize you’re bound—your wrists and ankles tied tightly with coarse rope, the roughness biting into your skin. There’s a gag in your mouth, muffling your shallow breaths. Your heart races as you struggle to move, but the ropes hold firm.

Looking around, your eyes adjust to the flickering light of candles surrounding you, casting eerie shadows on the trees. There are seven figures, cloaked in black, standing silently around you. They are still, their faces hidden under the hoods.

You hear it then—the low, rhythmic sound of chanting. The voice is monotone, steady, like it’s reciting something ancient and powerful. You don’t understand the words, but you guess it’s Latin. You begin to struggle, trying to loosen the ropes, heart pounding as your fingers strain against the bindings. But the more you move, the tighter they seem to become. Panic rises in your chest.

Suddenly, one of the figures steps forward, and in their hand, you see a dagger glint in the candlelight. Your stomach twists in fear. You freeze, eyes wide, unable to tear your gaze away as they approach you. The chanting continues, unwavering.

Without warning, the figure kneels beside you. The dagger’s cold blade presses against your cheek, and then—pain. You flinch as the sharp steel slices into your skin, a thin line of blood trickling down your face. A muffled whimper escapes your throat. The figure collects the blood, careful and deliberate, smearing it onto an ancient, crumbling scroll that looks like it’s been carried through time itself.

Terror takes over as you watch, helpless, as the figure lights the scroll with a simple flick of a lighter. The flames catch quickly, consuming the scroll in moments. As the last of it turns to ash, the chanting stops.

A deafening silence follows.

No birds. No wind. The entire forest seems to be holding its breath, as if the world itself is waiting for something terrible to happen.

Then, all at once, the candles surrounding you flicker out, plunging you into darkness. But just as quickly, they flare back to life—only this time, the flames are blood red, casting an ominous, fiery glow over the ritual circle. The figures stand unmoving, their faces still hidden, but you can feel the shift in the air. Something has changed.

Something is coming.

The air around you feels thick, oppressive, as if the very forest is suffocating under some unseen weight. Then, suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence. It’s sultry yet booming, rich with mockery and power. It doesn’t come from any one direction—it comes from everywhere at once, as though the trees themselves are speaking.

“Well, well, well,” the voice purrs, dripping with amusement. “How desperate you all must be, fumbling with your little rituals and chants. Meddling with powers far beyond your reach.” It chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through the forest, making the ground beneath you tremble. “Did you really think you could summon me so easily? That I would come at the beck and call of your pathetic incantations?”

The cloaked figures stiffen at the voice’s words, shifting nervously in their places. They remain silent, but you can feel their fear in the way they hesitate, as if they didn’t anticipate this response. The voice continues, teasing and condescending. “You should’ve known better. But here you are, scrambling in the darkness, begging for something you cannot possibly understand.”

Just then, one of the figures dares to speak. Their voice is trembling, but steady enough to say, “But we brought you a sacrifice.”

The forest falls deathly still. The voice, which had been mocking moments before, quiets suddenly. The shift in its tone is palpable, as though whoever or whatever it is has just taken a keen interest in something—or rather, in someone. You feel a chill creep up your spine.

There’s a long pause, and then the voice speaks again, but this time it’s softer, quieter, as though it's enthralled. “A sacrifice…?” The amusement fades, replaced by something else—curiosity. Desire. “And what a beautiful offering you’ve brought me…”

Your blood runs cold as the voice seems to focus entirely on you now, its words lingering in the air. You can feel its attention like a weight pressing down on you, though there is no form, no figure to see—just the voice, enveloping you in the darkness.

“I must say, you’ve outdone yourselves,” it murmurs, almost appreciatively. “Such beauty… such fragility. A rare find indeed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can’t tell if this attention is a blessing or a curse. Every muscle in your body screams to run, but the ropes still hold you tight, and the darkness closes in.

The figures, emboldened by the voice’s attention, begin to speak. One by one, they make their demands, their voices eager and trembling with greed.

“We ask for money,” one says, stepping forward.

“Power,” another adds, almost hungrily.

“We offer our loyalty in return for wealth, for control. We will serve you without question,” one of them declares, their voice dripping with desperation.

For a moment, there is silence. Then, the voice returns, and this time it’s filled with cold, biting laughter. “Money? Power?” it repeats, the words laced with disdain. “How pitiful. Is that what you’ve gathered here for? How small your desires are. You dare summon me, meddle in forces far beyond your comprehension, and for what? Gold? Influence?”

The voice’s laughter grows, mocking them all, cutting through the air like a knife. “You offer loyalty as if it means something to me, as if you’re anything more than fleeting, mortal specks. You want power? You want riches? You have no idea what true power is, nor the price it demands.”

The figures hesitate, doubt creeping into their postures as the voice continues to belittle their wishes. And then, just as your heart beats faster with terror, you feel a breath against your ear—soft, like a gentle wind. A whisper, barely audible, brushes against your skin.

“Close your eyes.”

You freeze. Slowly, you turn your head, expecting to see someone beside you, but there’s no one. Just the oppressive darkness and the flickering red flames of the candles. Your pulse quickens, but something deep inside you urges you to trust the voice. Against the rising panic in your chest, you clench your eyes shut tightly, your body trembling as the atmosphere around you shifts.

Suddenly, the stillness of the forest is shattered by the sound of screams. Blood-curdling, desperate cries fill the air, piercing through the night as the figures around you shout and wail in terror. You hear the snap of branches, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the crackling of something far more sinister. But you don’t dare open your eyes. You’re frozen in place, paralyzed with fear, every muscle locked in place as chaos erupts around you.

The screams continue, a cacophony of horror, but you keep your eyes shut, holding onto the whisper’s command. Your breath is ragged, your chest heaving as you try to control the overwhelming panic that’s rising inside you. Time stretches, seconds feeling like hours.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the forest goes quiet. The screams fade into nothing, leaving only an eerie silence. Your heart races in the deafening stillness, and though you can no longer hear the carnage, you can feel its lingering presence.

You breathe in and out, fast and shallow, terrified to open your eyes, terrified of what you might see. The forest is so quiet now, as if it’s holding its breath once more. You start to wonder if it’s truly over, if the nightmare has passed.

Then, the whisper returns, soft and chilling, right by your ear. “Sleep…”

Before you can even react, your mind becomes heavy, your body limp. It feels like a spell, something irresistible pulling you into darkness. Your eyes, still shut, flutter briefly before you fall into an all-consuming sleep, leaving the horrors of the forest behind.

You drift through the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had, your body weightless, like it’s floating down a calm, serene river. The usual tension in your muscles is gone, replaced by a deep, soothing calm. It’s as if you’re cradled by warmth, gently rocked by invisible hands. There’s no sense of time, only pure restfulness, the kind that reaches into your soul and makes you feel whole.

In the distance, you hear a voice—soft, affectionate, and full of admiration. It whispers sweetly, its tone rich and tender, complimenting everything about you. It praises the softness of your hair, the elegance of your face, the beauty of your body, and even your very presence, as though every part of you is perfect. The words wash over you like a lullaby, pulling you deeper into that blissful rest.

When you finally wake up, you’re in your bed. The familiar comfort of your own room surrounds you, but something doesn’t feel right. You blink groggily, sitting up, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep. Confused, you glance around, and your heart races as you remember the events —the forest, the figures, the voice. Instinctively, your hand goes to your cheek, expecting to feel the sting of the cut, but there’s nothing. Your skin is smooth, untouched. There’s no sign of what happened.

You throw off the covers and hurry to the mirror, your pulse quickening. You search your reflection, half-expecting to see some trace of the terror from the forest, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your hair is the same, your face unmarked. It’s like nothing happened at all, and yet… you know it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. The memory is too vivid, too real. The voice, the blood, the chanting—all of it remains sharp in your mind.

You turn away from the mirror, trying to make sense of it, when something catches your eye. Your breath hitches in your throat. On your bedside table, there’s a candle—lit and burning softly. Next to it, a single rose, its petals dark and velvety, resting elegantly beside the flame.

You freeze, your heart pounding as you approach it. Slowly, you pick up the rose, your fingers brushing against its delicate petals. The candle flickers slightly, casting a warm glow across the room. You stare at it, the confusion settling deep in your chest.

“Oh…” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The soft voice from your dream, the one that praised you, seems to echo in your ear again, gentle and intimate. Startled, you whip around, expecting to see someone behind you, but there’s no one. Just the empty room.

“Weird…” you mutter under your breath, glancing around once more. Still, there’s no explanation, no figure emerging from the shadows. You place the rose back down on the table and blow out the candle, watching the smoke spiral up into the air before it disappears. The room feels normal again, but the unease remains.

You climb back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Despite everything, the warmth of sleep begins to pull at you again, as if beckoning you back into its embrace. And though the forest may be far behind, you can’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—is still watching.

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

In the days that follow, you can’t shake the unsettling feeling of being watched. It’s always there, just out of sight—a presence hovering behind you, lingering at the edge of your senses. Every time you glance over your shoulder, expecting to see someone or something, there’s nothing. Just empty air. But the feeling never fades. It clings to you like a shadow, haunting your every move.

You become more cautious, always looking around, watching for signs of movement, but there’s no panic, no alarm. It’s almost as if your body has accepted the presence, even as your mind refuses to make sense of it. You should feel fear, but instead, there’s a strange calm, an eerie quiet that lingers no matter how close the feeling gets.

The day after the incident, you return to the forest, hoping for some kind of clue, some proof that it wasn’t a dream. But the forest is peaceful, untouched. There’s no sign of the ritual, no remnants of the candles, no trace of the figures. It’s as though the whole thing never happened, swallowed up by the woods themselves. The silence feels wrong, and as you walk the same path, the memory of that night burns vividly in your mind, but there’s nothing here to confirm it.

You try to move on, but even your friends start noticing the change in you. Rei, Jeongin, and Yujin glance at you with worried eyes, asking if everything’s okay. You brush them off, telling them it’s just stress, maybe some restless nights. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. There’s no rest anymore, only the constant feeling that you’re being watched, even when no one is around.

And then there’s the candle and rose. Every night, without fail, when you go to bed, they’re there. The candle always lit, casting a soft glow across your room. The rose—perfect, fresh, never wilting—sits beside it. It weirds you out, gnawing at your sanity, especially when you know you lock the windows and draw the curtains every night. There’s no way someone could be getting in. After the third night, you even called the police, desperate for answers. But they found nothing—no signs of forced entry, no signs of any entry at all. The officer told you everything seemed normal, but nothing about this felt normal to you.

The hopelessness sinks in. There’s no explanation, no rational way to understand what’s happening. And it doesn’t help that at night, when the world is quiet, you can hear it again—that soft voice. It’s always there, whispering just at the edge of your consciousness. Close, yet distant. Its words are impossible to grasp, like a lullaby just out of reach, tugging at your mind as you drift into sleep, feeling the weight of something you can’t explain pressing down on you.

You want to scream, to fight it, but there’s no fear. Only that strange, unsettling calm, like a storm waiting to break. And you can’t tell if you’re more terrified of what’s happening—or of how much you’ve come to expect it.

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

One day, in the midst of your growing paranoia and frustration, you find yourself mindlessly scrolling on your computer when a strange ad catches your attention: a website for a fortune teller. The colorful banner flickers, promising answers to those who seek them, and normally you’d scoff at something like this. But with everything going on, you find yourself clicking the link. Desperation tugs at your thoughts. Maybe she could explain what’s happening, or at least help make sense of the strange calm that now follows you like a shadow.

The next day, you go. The fortune teller’s shop is tucked away in a quiet part of town, the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. Inside, the scent of incense hangs thick in the air, and the room is dimly lit by candles that flicker with every movement. She sits across from you, an older woman with knowing eyes that seem to see right through you.

As you settle into the chair, she doesn’t need much prompting. After a brief introduction, she tells you that she feels something around you, something that clings to you. “There’s a presence,” she says, her voice low and thoughtful. “Usually, a presence like this would be malevolent, something dark and dangerous… but right now, it’s calm. It feels content, almost protective.”

Her words send a chill down your spine. You’ve never bought into this kind of thing before, but something inside you tells you to listen. You can’t deny the truth in her words. That presence, the one you’ve felt trailing you day and night—it’s always there, but never threatening.

She pulls out her tarot deck, shuffling the cards with practiced ease, her fingers nimble as she lays them out on the table. One card catches your eye immediately—the Devil. When she spots it, her breath catches. “The Devil,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “It represents temptation, control, and obsession. But it’s also a card of power, of something… primal. Something that binds itself to you, and once it has, it rarely lets go.”

You sit there, frozen, as she explains the meaning of the card. It’s about being tethered to something you can’t escape from, something that might seduce you with its calm but still holds an underlying danger. You barely hear her as she continues, your thoughts racing.

When you finally leave the fortune teller’s shop, you step out into the street, dazed and conflicted. The cold air bites at your skin, but your mind feels numb. You stand there for a long time, thinking over everything she said, the Devil card burned into your thoughts. The idea that this presence, this voice, is somehow tied to you—content now, but still something to be wary of—it sends your head spinning.

Eventually, you walk to the bus stop, lost in your thoughts. When the bus arrives, you get on, finding an empty seat by the window. As you sit, staring out into the city, you can’t shake the strange feeling again—that presence lingering close, too close. You glance out the window, and for a moment, you swear you see something sitting beside you in the reflection. A shadow, just out of the corner of your eye.

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn to look—but there’s nothing. No one. Just the empty seat beside you, like always. You squint, trying to shake the feeling, and look back at the window. The reflection shows nothing.

You huff in frustration, shaking off the moment, and pull out your phone, trying to distract yourself. But as the bus rolls forward, you can’t help but feel that presence still, hovering just beyond your senses, patient and ever-present.

You step off the bus at the stop you wanted, your mind still racing from the strange encounter on the ride. The air is cool as you walk, your footsteps almost mindless, leading you down familiar streets until you reach the church. Its tall steeple rises against the sky, and you pause for a moment, staring at it. A sigh escapes your lips as you shrug, figuring there’s no harm in trying. Maybe this place, of all places, could offer you some sort of clarity—or peace.

Pushing open the heavy doors, you step into the threshold. The moment you cross over, something shifts. The constant feeling of being watched, that heavy, unshakeable presence, vanishes. It should bring you relief, but instead, a hollow emptiness fills the space where that presence once lingered. You stop in your tracks, feeling strangely vulnerable, exposed in a way you hadn’t expected.

Every cell in your body screams at you to turn back, to leave the church and return to where you felt… safer. But you swallow the feeling, pushing it down as you make your way past the countless rows of benches, your eyes fixed on the altar.

“Hello,” you call out, your voice echoing through the empty space, bouncing off the high ceilings.

“Hello, my child,” a voice responds. You turn to see a priest walking towards you, his face kind, his eyes full of concern. “How may I help you?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering how to even begin explaining what you’ve been feeling, but something about the priest’s calm demeanor makes it easier. You tell him everything—about the ritual and the feeling of being watched that never left you. He listens carefully, nodding as you speak, never interrupting. When you finish, he places a hand on your shoulder, his expression grave but understanding.

“I think you may benefit from a cleansing,” he suggests gently. “It could help you find peace.”

You’re not sure what peace would even feel like anymore, but you nod anyway, agreeing to the cleansing. He leads you to a small side chapel, where he begins to recite verses, his voice steady and reassuring as he works through the ritual. You stand still, feeling the weight of his words settle around you, like a protective barrier forming between you and whatever it is that’s been haunting you.

When he finishes, you feel lighter—but not in the way you expected. You thank him quietly, offering a small smile before heading back toward the exit. But as you reach the door, you stop, standing just before the threshold. There’s an odd feeling gnawing at you, something that makes you hesitate before stepping outside. You take a deep breath, as if bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Finally, you step out. You wait for the familiar sensation to return—the feeling of being watched, the strange calm that’s followed you for days. But nothing happens. The air is still. The presence is gone.

You exhale slowly, the tension in your chest loosening, and for the first time in a while, you feel a flicker of relief. Maybe this is what peace feels like. Maybe you’ve finally managed to shake whatever it was that had been clinging to you. You walk down the church steps and start making your way home, your steps lighter, as if the weight of the last few days has lifted.

But as the quiet of the evening settles around you, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, just to be sure.

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

That night, when you finally make your way to bed, something feels off the moment you step into your room. It’s quiet, almost too quiet, and when you glance at your bedside table, the absence hits you immediately. There’s no candle softly flickering, no rose resting beside it. For days, those strange, inexplicable objects had become part of your nighttime routine, and now, without them, your room feels… empty.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the bare space, unsure how to feel. Part of you should be relieved, right? The presence is gone, the priest’s cleansing worked, and now, everything is back to normal. But as you sit on the edge of the bed, you can’t shake the odd sense of unease gnawing at you. That eerie calm you’d come to expect—no matter how unsettling—had become familiar. And now that it’s gone, it feels like something important has been ripped away.

You lie down, pulling the covers up, trying to convince yourself that this is what you wanted. Peace. Quiet. But as the night wears on, you toss and turn, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. Sleep doesn’t come easily. Every time you close your eyes, you expect to hear that soft, whispering voice, or to catch the faint scent of roses in the air. But there’s nothing. Just the cold, stark quiet.

Hours pass, and despite the exhaustion, you can’t seem to find any comfort. The night drags on, restless and heavy, and when you do manage to drift off, it’s into a light, uneasy slumber. The dreams that come are disjointed, dark, and full of shadows that shift and twist just beyond your reach.

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

As the days turn into a blur of mundane routines, you find yourself increasingly aware of an emptiness that settles in your chest. It starts subtly, creeping in like the morning fog, but soon it becomes a heavy weight you can’t ignore. You catch yourself glancing around your room, searching for something, but you can’t quite put your finger on what’s missing.

You dismiss it at first. Tell yourself it’s just a phase, a product of the unsettling experience you had in the forest and the church. But deep down, you know what it is.

Each night, when you lay in bed, the absence gnaws at you, louder than your rational thoughts. You try to convince yourself that you don’t need any strange tokens, that their disappearance signifies freedom. But the truth is, you miss the ritual, the soothing presence they offered, even if it was unsettling. They were reminders that you weren’t entirely alone, even if the presence felt like a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind.

You begin to notice it more and more during the day. At work, when the sunlight streams through the window, illuminating everything around you, your thoughts drift to that flickering candlelight. You find yourself distracted, unable to concentrate, imagining the scent of roses filling your room, their petals vibrant and alive. In moments of quiet, when you should feel at peace, your mind wanders back to the eerie calm that came with those objects.

You even catch yourself thinking about the fortune teller’s words, the way she spoke of the Devil card and its implications. Was it truly gone? Or was it simply biding its time, waiting for you to acknowledge its presence again? The uncertainty hangs over you like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive.

Every night, as you prepare for bed, you look at that empty space on your bedside table, and a familiar ache settles in. You want to deny it, want to convince yourself that you’re better off without the strange gifts. But as you drift into an uneasy sleep, the truth lingers just beneath the surface—you miss what once was, even if it was chaotic and frightening.

And the more you deny it, the stronger that longing becomes, until it feels like a part of you is reaching out, desperate to reclaim the connection you once had.

ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

One night, as the hours dragged on, you found yourself tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts that wouldn’t settle. Eventually, you groaned in frustration and opened your eyes, confronting the reality that sleep was eluding you. With a resigned sigh, you sat up, pulling the covers off your body. You felt restless, as if your own skin was too tight.

Navigating through the dark, you made your way to the kitchen, each step a little more deliberate than the last. The house was silent, the only sound the soft padding of your feet on the cool floor. You reached the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, opening it with a quick twist before taking a few long gulps. The cool water felt refreshing, but as you set the bottle down, a familiar shiver raced up your spine.

You froze, instinctively turning slowly around, scanning the dimly lit kitchen. “Hello?” you called out, your voice a soft echo in the stillness. But there was no response, only the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of the wind outside.

Turning back around, you tried to shake off the chill that lingered, but then something shifted in the air. It wasn’t stifling, but it felt heavy, pressing down on you like a weight. A sudden awareness prickled at the back of your neck, and you froze again, feeling a breath whisper past your ear.

It was warm and sweet, mixed with an intoxicating scent of roses and something burning, like incense.

“Hello, little angel,” a sultry voice whispered, sending chills through your body. “Miss me?”

You turned your head slowly, dread pooling in your stomach, and there it was—a black shadow, dark and formless, hovering just inches from your face. Two crimson eyes glinted in the darkness, locking onto yours with an intensity that paralyzed you. You wanted to scream, to run, but your tongue felt heavy and your limbs refused to move. All you could do was stare in terror, heart pounding in your chest as the shadow loomed closer.

In that moment, you understood with horrifying clarity: you weren’t alone anymore.

You could only watch as the shadow moved to stand directly in front of you, your gaze locked onto its form, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The presence was back, and you felt a strange mix of fear and longing bubbling within you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed that voice, that intimate whisper, until it echoed in the stillness of your kitchen once more.

“Excuse my sudden disappearance,” the shadow spoke, its tone smooth and rich, wrapping around you like silk. “The cleansing you underwent caused me to step back. I could only return to you when your soul desired me again.”

Your heart raced as his words registered, the surreal nature of the moment crashing down around you. You found your voice again after the shock wore off, forcing the question out of your throat. “What… are you?”

The shadow paused, then gave a graceful nod as if remembering something important. “Excuse my manners,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with dark elegance. And then, right before your eyes, the inky figure began to shift. The darkness gave way to a striking form, his transformation almost too breathtaking to believe.

He stood there now, a tall, beautiful man, whose very presence stole the breath from your lungs. His skin with pale, flawless that seemed to glow in the dim light. His black attire was tailored perfectly, hugging his body and adding to the aura of power he exuded. But it was his eyes that drew you in —those deep, red orbs that gleamed with a playful yet dangerous light, and his blond hair fell effortlessly around his soft features. But it was more than just his face that left you spellbound—two long, black horns curved proudly from his head, and behind him, a sleek, horned tail swished lazily through the air. In his hand, he casually twirled a pitchfork, as if it were an extension of himself.

“I am the Devil,” he said with a charming smile, his gaze locked onto yours, “but you may call me Sunoo.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions crashing through you—fear, intrigue, and an unsettling familiarity. The realization of what he was settled deep within you, mingling with the longing you had tried so hard to suppress. Despite the warnings that echoed in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, to the chaos and the darkness he represented.

The kitchen felt smaller now, the shadows thicker as he took a step closer. “And I have come back for you,” he said, his voice low and enticing, making your heart race faster. His red eyes locked onto yours, and with each word he spoke, the weight of his gaze felt as though it was peeling back your very soul.

“I watched you,” he began, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I craved you. You ignited a hunger within me that I had thought long extinguished. A mortal like you,” he said, his tone reverent, “looked like an angel in my eyes. Your innocence, your strength, your beauty—each facet drew me closer, wrapping around my heart like a vine.”

As he reached out, his fingers brushed against your cheek, a caress that sent a shiver of warmth through your body. His touch was electric, igniting a spark deep inside you that resonated with every heartbeat. “But then,” he continued, the softness of his voice darkening, “I saw you on that forest floor, hurt and scared for your life. It filled me with fury, a rage that pulsed through my veins. How dare they threaten you?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he continued, “I sought you out. I stood by you, watching over you as you went about your days, waiting for the moment when you would long for me as I longed for you. I protected you from the darkness that surrounded you, even as I stood in the shadows. I knew this night would come—the time when you would feel my presence and accept me as your own.”

Your heart raced, his words weaving a web of desire and belonging that tightened around your chest. “Your soul now belongs to me,” he whispered, and as the words left his lips, you felt his hand press against your chest, right over your heart. The moment his palm made contact, your heartbeat quickened, a rapid rhythm drumming beneath his touch, as if responding to him alone.

You were so close to him now, his presence overwhelming, the warmth of his body radiating against your own. His gaze never wavered, locking onto you with a hunger that made your skin flush. Without warning, he moved swiftly, twisting you in a fluid motion until your back was pressed firmly against the counter. The cool surface was a stark contrast to the heat that coursed through your body.

Before you could react, his strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he hoisted you up and set you on the counter. The sensation of his touch lingered, your body humming with warmth as his gaze roamed over you, a possessive fire burning in his eyes.

He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming from your head to your toes, as if memorizing every detail. “You complete me,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I have waited countless millennia for my Queen. And here you are, the one I have searched for. When you were sacrificed to me, I knew your soul would be mine forever.”

As he spoke, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, like molten gold coursing through your veins. His presence enveloped you, making you feel alive in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

“You are perfect,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Every inch of you is a work of art, crafted for my eyes alone.” Then, without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It was passionate, a collision of heat and longing that left you breathless.

Suddenly, you felt whole, as if the missing pieces of your soul had been returned to you. A wave of warmth washed over you, burning deliciously from the inside out. You melted into him, feeling safe and cherished as he held you close. His kiss deepened, a dance of desire that left you wanting more, while his hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his longing.

You lost yourself in him, wrapped in the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. Every kiss, every gentle caress, felt like a promise—an assurance that you were meant to be together, that you had finally found the place where you belonged. In his embrace, you felt invincible, as if nothing in the world could ever harm you again.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, he dove back in, capturing your lips with a fervor that left you reeling. “My angel,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with longing, “you don’t understand how much I need you. You are everything to me.” Each word tumbled from his lips like a sacred incantation, wrapping around you and pulling you deeper into his world.

You gasped as he kissed you again, his mouth moving against yours with a hungry urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The warmth of his body pressed against you, and you felt as though you were melting into him, losing all sense of time and space. He was insatiable, a force of nature, and you struggled to keep up with the intensity of his desire.

“I will keep you for myself,” he vowed, his voice so soft that it sent a thrill of excitement through you. “No one will take you from me. I will protect you for all eternity.”

With every kiss, he expressed a need that felt primal, as if he were staking his claim on your soul. You gasped again, trying to keep pace with the whirlwind of emotion that engulfed you both. He pressed against you, the world outside fading into a blur as his presence consumed you. You could feel his heart racing, a rhythm that matched your own, each thump a testament to the bond that was forming between you.

“Please,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his red gaze filled with a fierce intensity. “Let me show you what it means to be loved by the Devil. Let me drown you in my devotion.”

As he pulled back slightly, his red eyes shimmering with intensity, he asked, “Will you come with me? Will you rule beside me as my Queen?” The weight of his question hung in the air, and you felt your heart race at the thought of a life intertwined with his—a life where you would stand by his side, embracing the darkness and light together.

Looking into those mesmerizing, molten eyes, a wave of certainty washed over you. You found yourself nodding, breathless as the words tumbled from your lips. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

A wide grin spread across his face, a radiant joy that illuminated his features. The sight sent a rush of warmth through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter than ever before. He leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a passionate kiss that left you dizzy. The heat between you surged, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

In the blink of an eye, the world around you shifted. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a magnificent room bathed in rich, lavish reds. The walls pulsed with a warm glow, and golden accents shimmered in the ambient light, highlighting the opulence that surrounded you. You were nestled on a grand bed, the silken sheets beneath you soft and cool, cradling you like clouds.

Turning your head, you saw him standing a few feet away, his red eyes locked onto you, radiating affection and adoration. His presence was comforting, that it made your chest swell with joy. You belonged here—with him.

As if reading your thoughts, he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you, strong yet gentle, holding you with a protective warmth that made you feel safe. A wide grin spread across his face, and you noticed how his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled, his soft cheeks lifting in a way that made him look so much more human, so endearing.

It almost made you want to reach out and squish his cheeks—this unexpected softness he showed you. His red eyes glimmered with love, as if you were the center of his universe. “My Queen,” he said, his voice filled with pride and affection.

You smiled back at him, feeling the weight of the bond that now intertwined your souls. “My King,” you whispered in return.

His grin widened as he hugged you even closer, his hold warm and reassuring. The titles felt right, as if they’d always been meant for the two of you.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[elikajinnie]

P: Gamer!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (NSFW 18+)

Warnings: Voyeurism?, Obsession, Somnophilia, Use of Drugs, Manipulation, Minor Jealousy, Noncon/Dubcon, Masturbation (he jerks off to ur underwear,) Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Degradation, Needy!Heeseung, Power Imbalance, BDSM Tones, Nipple Play, Manhandling, Minor Impact Play, Creampie

Synopsis: Heeseung is the loud, late-night gamer type — always behind his door, headset on, cursing at his screen until dawn. Annoying, but harmless. At least, that’s what you believed. When a file on his computer reveals that he’s been watching — listening — far more closely than you ever imagined, the image of your easygoing roommate shatters.

Wordcount: 12,7k

a/n: welcome to the next part of the Eternal Hunger series for kinktober!! :D reblogs and commentary are appreciated!!

You’d always thought moving in with Heeseung would be easy. He was polite and the kind of roommate who smiled too much and never left dishes in the sink. On the surface, he was perfect. Almost too perfect.

The one drawback was that he was always home.

Well, at least during the hours you were. It was almost like you lived on opposite schedules: mornings, he’d still be dead to the world while you rushed around the apartment, half-dressed and scrambling for coffee before your first lecture. Evenings, just as you came back tired from classes or work, he’d be heading out the door for his shift, waving you a lazy goodbye over his shoulder. But at night?

At night, he came alive.

Without fail, Heeseung would plant himself in front of his glowing monitor, headset clamped over his messy hair, hunched forward with laser focus. His fingers flew over his keyboard with an intensity that made you wonder if he ever blinked, his voice raised and sharp as he shouted into his mic. “No shot, no shot—!” “Bro, that’s rigged, I swear—” 

And sometimes, he streamed.

Those nights were the worst. His voice took on a different edge then, pitched higher, more animated as he bantered with his faceless chat. You could hear him narrating plays, joking, even singing along to clips they sent him — all of it bleeding through the thin walls like he was performing from inside your room instead of his.

Because the walls weren’t soundproof.

So instead of peace, instead of rest, you ended your days with his voice echoing around the apartment.

“What the— no way! No way!” he’d yell, chair scraping back against the floor.

“Bro, you’re throwing, you’re actually throwing—” followed by his own laugh, rough and breathless.

Sometimes you could even hear the voices of Ni-ki or Jay bleeding through his headset when he shouted back at them. It was like sharing a room with all three of them, like they’d set up their game in the middle of your walls.

So while you were curled in bed, staring at the ceiling and begging your brain to shut down before morning classes, you had to fall asleep to the sound of him cussing, groaning, and laughing. Sometimes it was so loud you pressed a pillow over your head, groaning into the cotton until your ears rang. Sometimes you muttered threats under your breath, “If he screams one more time, I swear—” But eventually, exhaustion always won, and you drifted off with his voice buzzing faintly in your dreams like static on a radio.

It was annoying. Maddening, even.

You’d tried to get him to calm down before, leaning against his doorway one night with arms crossed, asking if he could please keep his voice down after midnight. Heeseung had looked up from his glowing screens, eyes big and apologetic, nodding quickly like he understood. “Yeah, yeah, my bad. I’ll be quieter.”

And for maybe ten minutes, he was.

Then the next round started, and it was right back to him shouting at his teammates, voice carrying through the thin walls like he was right next to you. It was like your words had gone in one ear and out the other.

So you tried other solutions.

Melatonin that only made you groggy in the mornings. Earplugs that fell out halfway through the night. A playlist of soothing whale sounds you found on YouTube — which honestly only made it worse, because now you had both orcas and Heeseung in your ears. And none of them were good solutions, not when you needed to actually hear your alarm.

So you bit through it.

You overloaded on caffeine during lessons, clutched your energy drinks like lifelines, and half the time you were fighting sleep before your professors had even started the lecture. Then you’d drag yourself home, collapse face-first onto your bed, and barely lift your head when Heeseung passed by your door on his way to his shift.

“Later,” he’d call softly.

And you’d grunt something back that wasn’t really a word, too tired to bother.

Bastard.

You remembered you had once actually tried to find other cheap apartment listings. You’d been fed up one night, eyes gritty from exhaustion, heart pounding from too much caffeine, and you thought — there has to be something better than this. Even if it was smaller, even if it meant sharing a bathroom, even if it was farther from campus.

You’d pulled up the rental sites, scrolling through dingy photos of half-basements and barely furnished rooms. None of them looked great, but at least they promised quiet.

That was when Heeseung came out of his room. You’d heard his door creak open, then the shuffle of his socks down the hall, but you figured he was on autopilot, grabbing snacks.

You hadn’t expected him to stop.

To lean over your chair.

To spot your open tab.

“What’s this?” His voice was light, curious, but you could feel the weight behind it as he tilted his head to read the page. Before you could even answer, he let out a nervous laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of moving out already. You can’t. You’re, like, the best roommate I could ever ask for.”

You’d blinked up at him, startled, muttering something about just looking. But he didn’t let it go.

He crouched down beside your chair, eyes big and pleading, rattling off reasons so fast you didn’t know how to respond. “Seriously, I’m clean, I’m chill, we get along, right? I don’t bring random people home. I don’t eat your food—okay, except that one time, but I replaced it! And honestly, do you know how hard it is to find someone you can live with without going insane? I can’t just… I don’t want to start over with someone else.”

You’d hesitated. You’d opened your mouth to tell him it wasn’t about him, not really, it was about the noise, the sleepless nights, the way you were slowly burning yourself out.

But then he’d looked at you like that — so sincere, so desperate, like losing you would mean losing something bigger than just a roommate.

And you folded.

You’d clicked out of the site, shutting your laptop with a sigh. You told yourself it wasn’t worth hurting his feelings. That it wasn’t worth starting over somewhere worse.

So you tried other solutions, and most of them involved sleeping over at friends’ places, anywhere that meant at least one night of uninterrupted sleep. But every time you did, Heeseung seemed to notice immediately.

The first night you were gone, he texted to ask if you were okay. The second time, there were half a dozen messages waiting for you before you’d even finished brushing your teeth at your friend’s.

“Where are you?”“You didn’t say you were leaving.”“Did something happen? Did I do something?”“Please answer.”

By the third attempt, your notifications were nothing short of a flood: messages stacked on top of each other, calls coming in one after another until your phone felt hot in your hand. It got to the point where you had to put it on silent, shoving it face-down and pretending it wasn’t that bad.

You told yourself he was just worried. Maybe he had separation anxiety, maybe he just didn’t have many people around. Still, it felt off — the intensity, the way he wouldn’t give you room to breathe.

When you got back, of course, he was all apologies. He stood in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling about how he hadn’t meant to freak out, how he just panicked when he didn’t hear from you.

You brushed it off, saying it was fine.

Personally, it was not fine. But okay — he was clingy. That was just Heeseung. He worried too much, texted too often, hovered a little closer than he needed to. None of it was enough to call him out over. It was just one of those things you told yourself you’d get used to.

Except the more you tried to spend nights somewhere else, the harder it became.

At first it was small things. You’d mention plans with friends and find him asking for details that felt too specific — “Where exactly are you staying?” or “What time do you think you’ll be back?” Then, when you got home the next day, he would already know. He’d mention how late your bus had been or that it had rained near your friend’s place. Little comments that made you wonder how he even knew.

Soon, he didn’t need to ask. He’d already have the answers.

Your phone would light up with messages before you’d even left campus: “You’re not staying out again, right?” or “I can come pick you up.” The one time you didn’t reply, he showed up outside campus, claiming he’d been nearby anyway.

When you confronted him about it, trying to laugh it off, he only smiled that same sheepish, boyish smile and said he just worried. That he liked knowing you were safe.

You wanted to believe that. You wanted it to be simple.But when you went to stay with a friend again and came back the next morning to find him waiting by the door — eyes tired, voice soft as he said, “You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” — the reassurance felt thinner than ever.

You hadn’t meant to stay away that long. Three nights at Wonyoung’s had just sort of… happened. You’d lost track of time between studying and catching up, and when she offered for you to stay another night, it felt like a small piece of normal life you didn’t want to give up. You’d turned your phone off halfway through the second morning; the constant buzzing had started to make your chest ache.

By the time you came home, the hallway outside your apartment felt strangely still. You had your key in hand when the door swung open before you’d even touched the lock.

For a second you didn’t recognise Heeseung. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin beneath them dark and puffy; his hair stuck up in flattened clumps, and his bottom lip looked raw, bitten open. The expression on his face—wide-eyed and desperate—made your pulse stumble.

Before you could say a word, he was already closing the distance, arms wrapping around you so tightly that your phone slipped from your hand.

“You can’t do that again,” he said into your shoulder, his voice cracking halfway through. “You can’t just disappear like that. I thought something happened to you, I—” He pulled back just enough to look at you, words spilling over themselves in a rush. “I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t even eat, I just kept thinking—what if you weren’t safe? You didn’t answer any of my calls, or my texts, I—”

“Heeseung—”

But he was already sinking down in front of you, his knees hitting the floor with a dull, heavy sound. His hands came together like he was praying — fingers laced tight, knuckles whitening under the strain — and when he looked up at you, his eyes were wide, rimmed red, shining in a way that made your breath hitch.

“I’ll stop,” he said, the words tumbling over themselves. “I’ll stop, I swear. I’ll be quiet, I won’t shout at night anymore—just, please, please don’t do that again. Don’t leave me here wondering where you are.” His voice cracked on the last word, raw and uneven.

You froze, staring down at him, at the way his shoulders shook slightly with every breath.

“Heeseung,” you began, trying to sound calm, but the sight of him — on the floor, trembling, his face twisted with something between guilt and panic — knocked the words right out of you.

“I thought something happened to you,” he went on, voice breaking. “You didn’t answer, you didn’t text, you just—disappeared. Do you have any idea what that feels like?” His laugh was short and breathless, half a sob. “I couldn’t sleep. I sat here the whole night just… waiting. Listening to the door. Every little sound, I thought it was you coming back.”

You swallowed, guilt prickling at the back of your throat. “Heeseung, I was just staying with friends. You’re overreacting—”

He shook his head violently. “No. You don’t understand.” His hands came up, clutching at his hair for a moment before falling limp at his sides. “It’s too quiet when you’re gone. I can’t think straight. The silence—” He looked up at you again, eyes wild, voice hoarse. “It’s torture not hearing you around the apartment. Not knowing you’re here.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

You stared down at him, still kneeling there, his breathing uneven like he’d just run for miles. The sight of him — usually so put-together, so casual — now reduced to this frantic, pleading mess twisted something sharp in your chest.

You told yourself it was pity. That it was guilt for ignoring his messages, for not realizing how lonely he must’ve been. But there was something else underneath it too, something that felt a lot like fear.

Heeseung reached out slightly, not touching you, just holding his hand in the space between you as if the distance itself hurt. “Please,” he whispered. “Just stay. I’ll be good. I’ll fix it. You won’t even know I’m here if that’s what you want.”

You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. “Heeseung, why are you making such a big deal out of this? It’s not like I vanished. I was just staying with friends.”

He gave a small, almost disbelieving laugh — a sound that wasn’t quite right. “You did vanish,” he said softly. “You were gone...”

Your stomach tightened.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sighed. “If you can actually keep your promise tonight,” you said quietly, “I’ll stop sleeping over at other people’s places.”

He went completely still for a heartbeat, and then his whole body seemed to exhale. His shoulders slumped, and a shaky, almost disbelieving laugh slipped from him as he nodded. “I will. I promise,” he said quickly, too quickly. “You’ll see. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”

You stepped past him into the apartment, trying not to look back. Behind you, the door clicked shut, and the lock turned softly in the quiet.

Dinner that night had been strangely calm. 

Heeseung had already set the table by the time you came out of your room, a couple of dishes still steaming. He smiled at you like nothing had happened earlier in the hallway, the same easy curve of his mouth you were used to.

“I made too much,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want it to go to waste.”

You’d hesitated, but the food actually smelled good, and you were too tired to start another argument. So you ate. He told you about work, about some glitch in a game he was playing, about how he’d started watching a new series. For once, the apartment felt normal.

Afterward, you’d taken a shower, letting the hot water wash away the stiffness in your shoulders. By the time you pulled on a shirt and climbed into bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. You didn’t even remember turning off the light.

For the first time in weeks, you slept. Deep, uninterrupted sleep that swallowed you whole. No voices through the wall, no faint laughter, no half-dreamed footsteps in the hall. Just warmth, darkness, and quiet.

When you woke up the next morning, sunlight was spilling across the floor. Your body felt light, your head clear. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt that rested.

Maybe things were finally settling. Maybe the promise he’d made the night before had actually meant something.

On your way out, you passed his door. It was closed, the light underneath it still off. The apartment was completely silent.

You smiled to yourself, thinking he was probably asleep as you locked the door behind you and headed out. 

Inside, the apartment stayed still for a moment. Then Heeseung’s door opened. He stepped out quietly, barefoot, moving like someone afraid to disturb the air. The light from the hallway spilled across his face, washing out the shadows under his eyes..

Your door wasn’t locked. You never locked it in the mornings; why would you, when it was only the two of you? The thought made something small and feverish flicker in his chest. He turned the handle slowly, easing the door open.

Your room was still filled with the faint scent of your perfume, the warmth of sleep lingering in the sheets. The curtains let in a line of sunlight that cut across the bed, catching on the edge of the blanket you’d kicked off in the night.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t touch much at first — just looked. The details fascinated him: the indentation where your head had rested, the half-closed notebook on the desk, the cup of coffee you hadn’t finished. 

He walked to the dresser, fingers hovering over the handle before stopping himself. His fingers twitched, itching to cross the line he’d been toeing for weeks. The silence of the apartment pressed against him, urging him forward, and he gave in. His hand found the top drawer, the one he’d seen you open countless times in passing glances, always so casual, so unaware. The handle was cool under his fingers, and he pulled it open slowly, as if savoring the act. Inside, neatly folded, were your things — soft fabrics in muted colors, lace edges peeking out from the stacks. His breath hitched.

He reached in, fingers brushing against the delicate material, and pulled out a pair of panties — simple, white, with a faint floral pattern. He held them up and brought them to his face. The scent was faint but unmistakable, a mix of your laundry detergent and something distinctly you. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled deeply, a low groan rumbling in his throat. The sound was primal, unchecked, and it sent a jolt straight through him.

His free hand moved almost on instinct, tugging the waistband down just enough to free himself. His cock was already hard, straining against the fabric, and the relief of releasing it made him shudder. He wrapped his fingers around himself, slow at first, the panties still pressed to his nose as his mind spiraled back to the night before.

You’d been so still, so perfect, sprawled across your bed in the deep sleep he’d orchestrated. The dose he’d slipped into your dinner — subtle, tasteless, just enough to keep you under — had worked like a charm. He’d stood over you, heart pounding, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted with soft, unaware breaths. He hadn’t planned to touch you, not at first. But then his fingers had grazed your skin, and you’d reacted — a small, sleepy moan, your body arching ever so slightly into his touch.

It had undone him.

He’d knelt beside you, careful not to wake you, his fingers exploring, teasing, drawing out those delicious little sounds. You’d whimpered for him, even in your haze, and it had taken every ounce of restraint not to cross that final line. The dose wasn’t strong enough for that, he’d told himself, though the thought of it — of sinking into you right then, claiming you completely — had nearly broken him.

Now, in your empty room, his strokes quickened, the memory of your moans looping in his mind. The panties in his hand were a poor substitute, but they were enough to fuel the fantasy. He imagined you waking up just enough to know it was him, to want it, to beg for it. His breath came in sharp gasps, his grip tightening as he leaned against the dresser for support. The room spun, the sunlight blurring into a haze, and he whispered your name under his breath.

He pictured you stirring just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes heavy with want, your voice pleading for him. The fantasy was vivid, almost real, and it pushed him to the edge. With a low, guttural moan, he threw his head back, the release hitting him hard. His cum spilled over the panties still in the drawer, coating the delicate fabric in a way that felt both wrong and electrifying. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him. A slow, shaky inhale, then an exhale, and a low giggle slipped from his lips — a sound that was equal parts relief and something darker.

He glanced down at the mess he’d made, the ruined panties now tangled with his release. His lips curved into a small smile as he used the pair still in his hand to wipe himself off, the act almost ritualistic. He tugged his sweatpants back up, the waistband snapping softly against his skin, and took a moment to steady himself against the dresser. The mirror caught his reflection — flushed cheeks, wild eyes, a flicker of satisfaction that made him look alive in a way he hadn’t in weeks.

He couldn’t leave the evidence behind. Not when you were still blissfully unaware, moving through your days with that easy smile, oblivious to the way he watched you, wanted you. He gathered the soiled panties from the drawer, careful not to disturb the others, as he moved quietly out of your room, closing the door with a soft click.

In the bathroom, he ran the tap, the sound of water masking the faint hum of his own thoughts. He washed the panties carefully, his fingers working the fabric under the stream, the soap erasing his traces. It was methodical, almost tender, the way he cleaned them, as if preserving something sacred. Once they were spotless, he wrung them out and tucked them away to dry later, somewhere you’d never think to look.

He couldn’t afford to be careless. Not yet. Not when you were still his unsuspecting piece.

The day had dragged by in that mid-week haze of lectures and half-finished coffee. By the time you made it back to the apartment building, the sun was already low enough to paint the hall windows orange. You texted a classmate—Minho—about coming up for a quick study session before your next exam.

Heeseung’s schedule was predictable: asleep in the mornings, gone by the time you came home. You hadn’t heard him all day, so you assumed he was already at work. The idea of a quiet apartment felt like a small relief.

When you pushed the door open, the lights were off and the air still. “See? Empty,” you said over your shoulder, stepping inside first. You dropped your bag by the couch, flipped on a lamp, and started gathering your notes from the coffee table.

You were halfway through explaining a problem set when you heard the door to Heeseung’s room creak.

The sound was small but sharp enough to freeze you mid-sentence. You turned, heart skipping.

Heeseung stood there in the doorway. His hair was tousled, a hoodie thrown on like he’d just woken up. His expression wasn’t angry exactly—just unreadable, like he was trying to work out why someone else was standing in his living room.

“Oh—hey,” you started, forcing a smile. “I thought you were at work.”

“I called in,” he said. His voice was low, flat in a way that made the air feel heavier. Then he looked at Minho, gaze flicking from his face to the open notebook on the table. “Didn’t know we had company.”

You laughed, the sound a little too high. “We’re just going over notes. He’s in my class.”

Heeseung nodded slowly. “Right. Notes.” He stepped further into the room, past you, and opened the fridge. The sound of the door popping open was louder than it should have been. “Do you guys want something to drink?”

“No, we’re good,” you said quickly.

Minho smiled, oblivious. “I’ll probably head out soon anyway. Don’t want to interrupt.” 

He gathered his papers, muttered a polite goodbye, and left.

When the door clicked shut behind him, the apartment fell silent again. Heeseung leaned back against the counter, arms folded loosely across his chest. For a moment neither of you spoke.

“I didn’t know you were staying home,” you said finally.

“Guess I forgot to mention it.” He smiled then—small, thin, and not quite reaching his eyes. “Next time, maybe just let me know if someone’s coming over. Yeah?” There was nothing in his tone you could call threatening, but something about it made your pulse quicken anyway. You nodded, murmuring a quiet “yeah, sure.”

Heeseung’s smile widened a fraction. “Good.” He turned back toward his room, door closing behind him with a soft click.

You stood there for a long second, staring at the wood grain of the door, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Heeseung could be quiet, yes — reserved, awkward sometimes — but that look he’d given you? That wasn’t the usual shy, apologetic Heeseung. That was something colder, distant in a way that didn’t fit.

You waited for a sound, for the creak of his chair or the hum of his computer to come through the wall, but nothing came. The apartment stayed utterly still.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself, “He’s just tired.”

Shrugging it off, you gathered your things and headed to your room. The guilt crept in anyway, a thin whisper in the back of your mind as you changed and started the shower. You hadn’t done anything wrong, you reminded yourself. You hadn’t. It was just a study session. You were allowed to have friends.

The water was hot enough to sting, helping the thoughts slide off. By the time you stepped out, wrapped in a towel and blinking at the steam, you felt lighter.

That was when you noticed the bottle.

It sat neatly on your nightstand, half-full, the plastic still beaded with condensation. You didn’t remember leaving it there, but you’d been so rushed that morning it could’ve been from then. Without thinking, you picked it up and took a long drink. The water was cool, faintly metallic, but it didn’t register as strange.

You changed into pajamas, flipped open your notebook, and tried to focus. The words swam after a few pages, blurring as your eyelids grew heavy. The day’s exhaustion caught up to you all at once, and you yawned so hard your eyes watered.

You told yourself you’d read one more chapter. Then maybe another.

You didn’t make it that far.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you were already halfway gone, the room fading into soft, hazy darkness. You barely managed to pull the blanket over your shoulder before sleep took you completely.

Hours slipped past in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of the wall clock. The shadows stretched long as the night deepened, until the numbers glowed 2:03 a.m. on the display.

Your door opened with the slow, careful turn of a handle.

Heeseung stepped through the narrow gap, bare feet making no sound against the floor. He paused just inside the room, watching you for a moment, waiting for any sign that you might stir. But you didn’t. Your breathing stayed slow, steady — the deep rhythm of someone completely asleep.

He moved closer. The dim light from the hall touched your face, softening the edges of your features. Heeseung’s eyes lingered there, unreadable.

After a long minute, he reached for the half-empty water bottle on your nightstand. His fingers closed around it, and a faint smile tugged at his lips — small, tired, but oddly satisfied. He turned it once in his hand as if it were proof of something only he understood.

Then his attention shifted back to you.

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, testing the weight of your unconsciousness. You didn’t stir, your breathing steady, deep, utterly unaware.

Satisfied, he let his hand linger, trailing down the curve of your jaw, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip. His touch was soft, almost tender, but there was a tremor in his fingers, a barely contained need. He shifted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and reached for the edge of your blanket. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it down, the fabric sliding past your hips, your legs, until it pooled at your feet. 

His gaze darkened as he moved to your shirt, his fingers hooking under the hem. He tugged it upward, inch by inch, exposing the soft plane of your stomach, then higher, until your breast was bared to the dim light. A low groan rumbled in his throat, the sound raw, almost pained, as he stared. Your nipple, soft and untouched, drew his focus, and his breath hitched. He glanced up at your face, searching for any sign of waking, but your expression remained serene, oblivious.

His hand moved again, bolder now, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. His fingers found you, warm and soft, and he began to touch you, his movements careful but insistent. The slickness came quickly, your body responding even in sleep, and he bit his lip to stifle another groan. The sight of you, so vulnerable, so pliant, sent a rush through him, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Leaning forward, he brought his mouth to your exposed nipple, his lips closing around it gently at first, then with a slow, hungry pull. The sensation drew a soft moan from you, a sound that made his heart stutter. You shifted slightly, your body arching just enough to press closer to his touch, but your eyes stayed closed, your mind still submerged in the haze he’d ensured. The moans turned to faint whimpers, sweet and unfiltered, as his fingers worked you with a steady rhythm, coaxing more wetness, more of those sounds that drove him wild.

Heeseung’s breath was ragged now, his lips lingering against your skin as he sucked harder, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. His fingers, slick with your arousal, paused for a moment as he studied your face. No flicker of awareness, no hint of waking. He’d been careful tonight. Knowing you had no plans tomorrow, he’d upped the dosage in your water bottle, just enough to keep you under, to give him this window to indulge. The thought made his pulse quicken, a dark thrill curling in his chest. 

You wouldn’t wake up. 

He shifted his hand, his touch growing bolder, and slowly eased one finger inside you. The warmth, the tightness, made him bite back a groan, his lips faltering against your skin for just a moment before he resumed, sucking harder, his tongue pressing against your nipple with renewed intensity. He thrust his finger slowly in and out, savoring the way your body seemed to pull him in, even in sleep. Your soft, desperate whines grew just a fraction louder, a sound that sent heat pooling in his gut.

Heeseung’s eyes fluttered shut, his world narrowing to the feel of you — the slick heat around his finger, the taste of your skin, the faint tremors of your body responding to him. He moved faster now, his thrusts steady but careful, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance of your slumber. His mouth worked relentlessly, teeth grazing lightly as he sucked, drawing out more of those sweet, unconscious moans that made his head swim.

He was lost in it, in you, in the forbidden rush of having you like this.

He eased another finger inside you, stretching you slightly, and the slick warmth pulled a shudder from him. He thrust slowly, his fingers curling just enough to coax more of those sweet, unconscious moans from your lips. They came louder now, still soft but unmistakably desperate, each sound like a spark to the fire building in his chest. 

His hips twitched, thrusting into the empty air, mirroring the rhythm of his fingers inside you. The motion was involuntary, driven by the ache pooling in his core, the need that gripped him tighter with every moan you let slip. 

Your body trembled beneath Heeseung’s touch, the rhythm of his fingers relentless as your moans grew sharper, more desperate. Then, in a breathless, broken sound, you moaned his name — Heeseung — soft but unmistakable, spilling from your lips as your body clenched around his fingers, your release coating them in a rush of warmth. The sound hit him like a shockwave, his mouth detaching from your nipple with a wet, obscene pop. Drool glistened on his chin, trailing down as he stared up at your face, his breath catching.

You were still asleep, your expression serene, lips parted slightly, utterly unaware of the name you’d just sighed or the way your body had shuddered through your climax. His name. In your sleep. As you came on his fingers. The realization sent a dark thrill through him, twisting something deep in his chest. 

Oh fuck.

A grin spread across his face, slow and dangerous, his eyes glinting with something feral, unhinged. You knew, somewhere in the haze of your subconscious, that it was him. The thought made his blood burn. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to question it. His fingers moved again, pushing deeper, stretching you further. Your body reacted instantly, arching off the bed, your thighs clenching together as if to trap his hand. He didn’t care. He forced them apart, his gaze fixed on your face, drinking in every twitch, every flutter of your lashes.

His other hand fumbled at his waistband, yanking it down to free himself. His cock was painfully hard, already leaking, and he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking in time with the thrusts inside you. 

A breathless whimper escaped your lips, louder than before, and it sent a jolt through him.

He slowed his thrusts immediately, his fingers pausing before moving deeper, curling inside you, pressing against the spot that made your breath hitch. Your legs, once tense, flopped limply against the mattress, parting wider, giving him full access. The sight of you so open, so vulnerable, made his chest tighten. He could move his wrist freely now, his fingers working you with slow, deep strokes, coaxing more of those breathless moans from your lips.

Heeseung leaned forward, his gaze never leaving your face as he brought his mouth back to your nipple, latching on softly at first, his tongue swirling gently before he sucked harder. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak, biting just enough to draw a reaction, then tugging lightly, testing how much you could take. Your body arched again, a low whine spilling from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers, your second release shuddering through you.

The pulse of your climax around his fingers sent a shiver through Heeseung, his lips lingering on your nipple, sucking softly as your body trembled beneath him. The intensity of it made his head spin, his own hand faltering on his cock as he fought to stay present, to savor every second. Slowly, he pressed his fingers deeper, letting you clench around him, before he eased them out, his eyes fixed on the slick coating his skin. The sight of it, glistening in the dim light, made his breath catch, a dark delight curling in his chest.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sliding them past his lips, and his eyes rolled back as he moaned low, the taste of you flooding his senses. It was sweet, heady, better than he’d imagined, and he licked every bit of it off, his tongue chasing the remnants. When he pulled his fingers out, they were clean, and he exhaled heavily, his breath shaky, his body thrumming with need.

He couldn’t resist. His hand dipped back to you, fingers slipping inside again, coating themselves in your wetness, gathering as much as he could before pulling out, his hand once again slick and shining. He wrapped it around his cock, the warmth and slipperiness driving a groan from his throat as he began to stroke himself, his gaze locked on your sleeping form. Your parted lips, the faint flush on your cheeks, the exposed curve of your breast — it was all too much. 

The tension coiled tight in his core, and with a choked, “Fuuuuuuuuck…” he came hard, his release spilling in thick spurts, some landing on your face. He shuddered, his breath heavy and uneven, as he rode out the high, his hand slowing but still gripping himself. For a moment, he just stared, the sight of you marked by him sending a twisted thrill through his veins.

Carefully, he tucked himself back into his sweatpants as if afraid to disturb the scene. He slipped into your bathroom, grabbing a damp cloth from the sink, and returned to your side. With gentle care, he wiped the evidence from your face, his touch soft against your skin, then with careful hands, he straightened your shirt, pulling it back down to cover you, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He then adjusted the blanket that had slipped to the end of the bed, pulling it back up to your shoulders. The small, domestic motion looked almost gentle, almost caring.

He stood there a few more seconds, taking in the stillness of the room, the steady rhythm of your breathing. Then he stepped back, moving silently toward the door. The latch clicked softly behind him as he slipped out.

The apartment was quiet again—the hum of the refrigerator, the faint tick of the clock—ordinary sounds that made the moment feel unreal. Heeseung crossed the hall to his own room and shut the door. The lock turned with a tight snap.

At his desk, he exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder, its indicator light blinking. For a moment he just looked at it, then he pressed a button, the light fading to dark, and placed it carefully on the desk beside his keyboard.

The computer’s glow filled the room as he sat down, the chair creaking quietly under his weight. His hand hovered over the mouse, eyes fixed on the screen. Folders lined the display—each one neatly labeled. He clicked open the newest one and watched the progress bar crawl across the screen. When it finished, he leaned back, staring at the list of files that bore your name.

A small, satisfied breath slipped from his lips, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he scrolled through the older files.He selected one from a few weeks ago, the date pulling a faint memory of that night to the surface. The audio began, soft at first, then your voice — a low, breathy moan, caught in the haze of sleep. His head tilted back against the chair, eyes fluttering shut as the sound washed over him, pulling him back to that moment. Your whimpers, the faint rustle of sheets, the way you’d sighed so sweetly, unaware of his presence, his touch. 

He leaned further back, the chair creaking under his weight, his hand moving instinctively to palm himself through the fabric. Each sound from the recording — every hitch in your breath, every soft whine — felt like it was pulling him under, drowning him in the memory of you. He let the audio play, his fingers tightening slightly as he listened, his mind painting vivid images of your sleeping form, the way your body had responded to him, the way you’d been his without ever knowing.

His eyes fluttered open briefly, glancing down, and he cursed under his breath, low and rough, at the sight of himself, fully hard again, straining against his sweatpants. 

His hand slipped beneath the waistband, fingers wrapping around his cock, already slick with precum. A sharp hiss escaped him as he touched himself, the sensitivity making his breath catch. He began to stroke, slow at first, his grip tight, the wet sounds of his movements blending with your moans in his ears. The headphones amplified every hitch in your breath, every soft whine, and he let himself sink into the fantasy of finally sinking into your pussy, feeling you clench around him, warm and tight, just as you had around his fingers. The idea sent a jolt through him, his strokes quickening, his hips twitching upward into his hand.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice barely audible, his head tilting back as his eyes squeezed shut. The audio looped in his ears, your voice a siren’s call, and he imagined you beneath him, awake or not, giving yourself to him completely. 

Heeseung’s head tilted further back, a soft whine slipping from his lips as he teased himself, slowing his strokes to a torturous pace. His fingers dragged along his length, deliberate and agonizing, drawing out the sensation until his eyes rolled back, a shudder rippling through him. Your name fell from his lips in a hushed whisper, as if saying it could summon you into the room. The audio in his headphones — your moans, your breathless sighs — looped relentlessly, each sound tightening the coil of need in his core.

His fingers twitched, hovering over the mouse, then clutching it tightly, as if anchoring himself to something solid. But his mind was elsewhere, lost in the memory of your body under his hands, the way you’d arched into his touch, unaware and perfect. 

Your moans echoed through the headphones, each one stoking the fire in his chest, pushing him closer to the edge. His body tensed, muscles coiling tight, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he came, his release spilling over his hand, his body shuddering with the intensity. He slumped back in the chair, his chest heaving as he took deep, ragged breaths, trying to steady himself. 

Reaching for a handful of tissues from the table, he wiped the cum from his hand, his movements slow, almost mechanical, as he came down from the high.

He tugged the headphones off, your moans cutting off abruptly, leaving the room in near silence, save for the faint hum of the computer. With a tired flick of his wrist, he powered it down, the screen fading to black. He sat there for a moment, staring at the reflection of his dimly lit room in the blank monitor. Then, with a quiet exhale, he pushed himself up, his legs unsteady. He crossed to his bed and let himself fall back onto the mattress, the springs creaking softly beneath him.

For a while, he just stared at the ceiling. The apartment felt too quiet now; every tick of the clock in the kitchen felt like a shout. Heeseung turned onto his side, eyes unfocused, watching the strip of light shift along the wall.

Sleep didn’t come easily. His body was still, but his mind kept circling back to the same thought: you, asleep in the next room, unaware of how closely your lives were starting to overlap. It wasn’t guilt, not exactly—just a strange, restless need to keep things the way they were.

He shut his eyes finally, exhaling a slow breath that blurred into the dark. Tomorrow would look the same as every other day: breakfast, classes, the small talk you’d exchange in passing. You’d smile, and he’d smile back. Nothing out of place.

By the time his breathing evened out, the clock read a little past four. The apartment, once again, was still.

The next morning, you woke up later than usual. The sun had already climbed high, slipping through the blinds in soft, golden lines that stretched across the floor. You blinked blearily at the clock on your nightstand — almost one. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that long.

Your body felt heavy, but your mind was oddly clear. The sleep had been deep, dreamless, and a little too perfect. You stretched lazily before sitting up, rubbing your eyes. Something about the air felt different, though. Still. Too still.

Pushing your bedroom door open, you were greeted by silence.

“Heeseung?” you called softly, half-expecting him to answer from behind his usual closed door. 

Nothing.

You tried again, louder this time. “Heeseung, you up?”

No reply.

That wasn’t too unusual; he wasn’t a morning person. But even then, you usually heard something—the faint creak of his chair, the hum of his computer fans, the soft clatter of him rummaging through the kitchen. Today, there was nothing.

The apartment felt… hollow.

You moved around quietly, fixing a simple breakfast and eating at the counter while the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. You scrolled through your phone, checking messages, half-expecting one from him. There were none.

After breakfast, you curled up on the couch and played an episode of an anime you’d been meaning to finish. The familiar voices and bright colors helped fill the emptiness, but you kept glancing toward the hallway between episodes, waiting for his door to open. 

It didn’t.

By noon, you decided to get ready and head out to run some errands — groceries, maybe the bookstore. Something normal. You stood in front of your closet, already planning your outfit.

You reached for a specific shirt — the one you’d worn just last week — but your hand hit an empty hanger. You frowned.

Weird. You could’ve sworn you’d hung it there. You searched the other hangers, then the drawers, then the laundry basket. Nothing.

You started pulling clothes out one by one, tossing them onto the bed as your irritation grew. “Where the hell—” You stopped mid-sentence, staring at the half-emptied closet. No sign of it.

It couldn’t have just vanished.

Maybe you’d misplaced it? Maybe it had fallen somewhere, or maybe you’d loaned it out and forgotten? But even as you tried to reason it out, the explanation didn’t sit right. You exhaled sharply, stepping over the pile of clothes. “Heeseung might’ve seen it,” you muttered to yourself. 

You crossed the hallway and stopped in front of his room. The door was closed, same as always. You knocked once.

“Heeseung? You in there?”

Silence.

You waited a few seconds, then tried again, louder this time. “Heeseung?”

Still nothing.

You hesitated before reaching for the handle, expecting resistance. But it turned easily. Oh?

You peeked your head in first, cautious. “Heeseung? Hello?”

No one.

The room was empty, but it didn’t look like he’d been gone long. The curtains were still drawn, the chair pushed slightly away from the desk, the bed unmade with the blanket twisted halfway off. His headset sat on the desk beside his keyboard.

You stepped inside, frowning. He didn’t have work today— it wasn’t like him to go anywhere this early. Maybe he’d stepped out for groceries? Coffee? Your eyes drifted over his desk, to the shelves above it lined with his figurine collection. One caught your attention — a new one you hadn’t seen before. You stepped closer to take a look. As you leaned in, your hand brushed against his mouse, and the computer screen flickered to life.

“Oh—he left it on,” you murmured, surprised. The glow from the monitor bathed the desk in cold light. You reached for the keyboard to put it to sleep before he came back and noticed.

But then you froze.

There, in the upper right corner of the screen, sat a folder. Your gaze snagged on the name before you could look away.

It was your name.

You blinked, sure you were imagining it. But there it was—clear, typed neatly in the list of files on his desktop. No last name, no embellishment. Just you.

Your fingers hovered above the mouse. For a moment, you considered just turning the monitor off, pretending you hadn’t seen anything. Pretending everything was still normal.

But curiosity—and something sharper, colder—tightened inside you.

You swallowed hard.

And then your hand started to move.

The cursor slid across the screen, the small arrow trembling faintly as if your own unease had travelled down through your hand.

You double-clicked.

The folder opened.

Inside, another set of folders appeared—each one neatly dated, stacked in order from months ago to last night. Every one of them had your name.

You felt your stomach twist.

At first you thought it might be screenshots, maybe something from a game. But when you scrolled down, the icons were all the same shape, same size: small audio waveforms. Dozens of them.

You clicked on one before you could stop yourself.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the audio file loaded, the cursor hovering over the play button for a split second before you clicked. At first, there was nothing—just silence. You frowned, leaning closer to the screen, wondering if the file was corrupted or empty. Your fingers brushed the headphones on the desk, and without thinking, you unplugged them.

The sound hit you like a shockwave.

Your own voice spilled from the speakers, a low moan followed by a faint whimper. The noises were intimate, vulnerable, sounds you didn’t recognize as your own at first, but the realization crashed over you like ice water. Your breath caught, your hand freezing over the mouse as the audio continued: soft gasps, a quiet whine, the rustle of fabric. It was you but in a context that made your stomach lurch.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, as the sounds played on, each one more damning than the last. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, and then—your name, whispered in Heeseung’s voice, barely audible but unmistakable. The room spun, the glow of the screen blurring as your mind raced to make sense of it. When had this happened? How? You didn’t remember this, didn’t remember any of this.

Your hand shot to the keyboard, fumbling to pause the audio, but your fingers trembled, and the sounds kept playing, filling the room with the echo of your own voice, trapped in some moment you couldn’t recall. The dates on the files flashed in your mind—months ago, weeks ago, last night. 

Your hands flew to your head, fingers clutching at your hair as confusion and horror twisted through you like a vice. The sounds of your own moans, raw and unguarded, continued to spill from the speakers, each one a violation you couldn’t comprehend. You had never done this openly, never given Heeseung—or anyone—access to such intimate moments. How had he gotten these? How? For how long had he been collecting them? 

Your breath came in short, panicked gasps, your heart hammering as you fumbled again for the keyboard, desperate to stop the audio. Your fingers slipped, hitting the wrong key, and the volume spiked for a moment, your own voice echoing louder, mocking you. Nausea churned in your stomach, and you finally managed to slam the spacebar, silencing the room. 

But the quiet was worse — thick and heavy, pressing on your ears until you could hear your own heartbeat.

Then a sudden sound split the silence.

The sharp crack of a door slamming.

You spun around so fast the chair scraped against the floor. Heeseung was standing in the doorway. His hair was mussed, his clothes wrinkled like he’d just come in from outside. 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you. His eyes were dark and wide, the expression on his face flickering between shock and something else you couldn’t name.

Then, slowly, he reached behind him and turned the lock. The click echoed in the stillness of the room. 

“What are you doing in here?” His voice was low, even, but the calmness in it made your stomach twist. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You opened your mouth, words tripping over themselves. “I— I was just— your door wasn’t locked, and I—”

“You shouldn’t have snooped.” The tone sharpened suddenly, cutting through your attempt at an explanation. His expression shifted — not angry in the usual way, but off, like a smile forced onto the wrong face. “You don’t just go into someone’s room. You know that, right?”

“Heeseung—” you started, stepping back, bumping into the desk.

“I trusted you,” he said quietly. “And this is what you do?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. You turned slightly, pointing toward the computer. “Trusted me? You were recording me!” The words burst out before you could stop them. “You— You had files of me, Heeseung! My voice, my—”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow, eerie smile crept across his face. It wasn’t amusement exactly — more like satisfaction, like someone who’d stopped pretending. 

“You shouldn’t have looked,” he said simply.

You felt the air leave your lungs. “What— what is wrong with you?”

Heeseung tilted his head, that faint smile still there. “I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured. “Why can’t you ever just leave things the way they are?”

Something in you snapped.

“Leave things the way they are?” Your voice cracked, rising before you could stop it. “You’ve been spying on me! Do you even hear yourself? You think this is normal? You think recording me—watching me—is okay?” The words came fast, tumbling out over one another, the fear in your chest burning into anger. “You’re insane, Heeseung! Do you have any idea how sick this is?”

For a moment he just stared at you, that same unreadable expression frozen in place. Then he let out a quiet, tired sigh.

“Guess the jig’s up…” he said softly, setting his bag down on the floor beside the door.

You blinked, caught off guard by how calm he sounded.

He slipped off his jacket slowly, folding it like nothing about this was strange. “You weren’t supposed to find that,” he continued, his tone almost conversational now. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You—what?”

Heeseung shrugged lightly, as though this were just another small inconvenience. “I should’ve locked the folder. I usually do.” He glanced at you then, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re a lot nosier than I thought.”

You stared at him, unable to form words. The calmness, the way he spoke as if this was a minor mistake—it was more unsettling than if he’d yelled.

Heeseung’s smile snapped like a brittle thing. For a second he just stood there, face slack, and then something in him broke.

Without warning he lunged.

You barely had time to react. Instinct shoved you into motion — a shout ripped from your throat as you twisted, jerking away from his grasp. Your hand knocked the edge of the desk; papers fluttered to the floor. He swore, a rough, animal sound, and reached again, fingers clawing for you.

Adrenaline turned everything bright and loud. You shoved him hard across the chest. He stumbled, face contorted with surprise and anger, and reached for you faster this time. Your breath came hot and raw as you dodged him, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Stop fighting me!” he snapped, voice tight and strangled.

“You’re insane!” you spat, adrenaline sharpening every word. “You think I’m just going to let you—let you do this?”

Heeseung’s face went hard, eyes glassy with something else — frustration, need, something you didn’t want to name. He advanced again, faster this time. “Come on, just be still,” he hissed, every syllable a command. “Just be good, okay? You don’t have to make this hard.”

Well, fuck that!

You weren’t going to be still. Not after finding the files, not after every lie and late-night listen. Your hands scrabbled at whatever was in reach.

“Get the fuck away from me you creep!” you screamed, shoving a textbook at his chest. It barely slowed him down. Heeseung was stronger, faster, and as you twisted to dodge him, his hand caught your arm, yanking you off balance. You stumbled, and in a blur of motion, you hit the floor, the breath knocked out of you. Before you could scramble up, he was on you, pinning you down, his hands like iron around your wrists.

You thrashed, kicking wildly, but his weight held you in place. His face hovered inches above yours, his breath hot and uneven. “Why can’t you just—” His hand suddenly cracked across your face, the sharp sting of the slap stealing your breath. Your head snapped to the side, shock and pain blooming in your cheek as you gasped. His fingers found your throat, gripping just tight enough to make your pulse pound against his hold. “You’re being bad,” he hissed, his voice low, venomous. “You think you can just ruin everything just like that? No.. I think I need to teach you a lesson.”

Your heart raced, panic surging as you struggled beneath him, but he was too strong. With a rough yank, he pulled you to your feet, your wrists still trapped in his grip, and threw you onto the bed. The mattress creaked under your weight, and before you could roll away, he was on you again, moving with a speed that left you dizzy. You heard a metallic clink, and then—cold steel snapped around your wrists. Handcuffs? Your eyes widened in disbelief as you tugged against them, the metal biting into your skin, secured to the bedframe. He had handcuffs attached to his bed? The realization hit you like a punch, your mind reeling with shock and terror.

“Heeseung, what the fuck?” you screamed, pulling harder against the cuffs, but they held firm. Your voice trembled, caught between rage and fear, as you twisted beneath him. He didn’t answer, his expression hard, focused, as he grabbed the waistband of your pants and yanked them down in one swift motion. The air hit your skin, and before you could react, his hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp crack of the slap echoing in the room. Pain seared through you, and you cried out, your body arching instinctively, your back bowing as you gasped.

“Keep moving,” he taunted, his voice dripping with a manic edge as he struck you again, harder this time. “It just makes this better.” His hand lingered after each hit, the heat of his palm searing against your reddened skin. You thrashed, tears burning in your eyes, but the cuffs held you firm, and his strength was overwhelming. By the time he stopped, your ass was raw, throbbing with pain, and tears streamed down your face, your breaths coming in broken sobs.

Without warning, he gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back, the cuffs twisting your arms uncomfortably as you landed. You gasped, still crying, as he forced your legs apart with a rough tug, his hands unyielding. He peeled off his shirt, tossing it aside, and unzipped his pants halfway, the sound of the zipper loud in the tense silence. His eyes raked over you, empty and cold, yet burning with something feverish. “Finally… the real deal…” he muttered, his voice low and dazed, like he was speaking to himself.

“Please, Heeseung,” you begged, your voice trembling as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Stop. Just—just talk to me. We can figure this out, please!” Your words were desperate, grasping for any shred of the person you thought you’d known.

He tilted his head, a faint, mocking smile curling his lips. “Talk? No, no, honey,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing, but laced with something dark and final. “It’s time for action…” His hands moved to your shirt, yanking it up to expose your breasts. He grabbed them roughly, his fingers digging in before he delivered a sharp slap, the sting making you cry out. 

He surged forward, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking hard with a hunger that made your breath hitch, tears streaming faster as you pulled uselessly against the cuffs. His tongue swirled, his teeth grazing, and his grip on your other breast tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pressed himself closer, his hardening bulge grinding against you through his half-unzipped pants. The friction was rhythmic, each movement sending a jolt through your body that you fought to ignore. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you bit your lip, swallowing your sobs, forcing yourself into silence. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you.

His lips stilled for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as he pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing. The absence of your sounds, your refusal to give him what he craved, made something shift in his expression—something darker, more insistent. “No, no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. “I want to hear you.” His tone was sharp, demanding, as if your silence was a personal betrayal.

His mouth returned to your nipple, sucking harder, his teeth biting just enough to sting, trying to coax a sound from you. His other hand slid down, gripping your hip to pull you closer, amplifying the pressure of his grinding. “Come on, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with frustration. “Let me hear you. You know you want this.”

You clenched your jaw, your body trembling from the effort to stay quiet, to deny him the moans he was so desperate to pull from you.

But Heeseung’s eyes burned with a relentless hunger. He wasn’t going to let you win this.

“You think you can stay quiet?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with challenge. “You’re gonna give me what I want.” He shifted, his weight pinning you harder against the bed, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his tongue flicking against your skin, teasing, taunting. His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, spreading them wider, digging into your flesh. “Let’s see how long you can hold out,” he muttered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

His fingers found you, and he didn’t hesitate, plunging two inside with a rough thrust. You gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it, and his eyes lit up, triumphant. “There it is,” he purred, his voice dark and mocking as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made your body betray you. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl. “Moan for me. Let me hear how much you want this.”

You tried to fight it, biting your lip until it hurt, but he was merciless. His free hand slid up, grabbing your breast, squeezing hard before delivering a sharp slap that made you cry out, a desperate, broken moan spilling from your throat. Tears pricked your eyes, but your body was no longer yours to control—it arched into his touch, chasing the sensations despite your mind screaming to resist. He added a third finger, stretching you, his thumb circling your clit with ruthless precision, and you whined, high and needy, the sound echoing in the room.

Heeseung’s grin was feral, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he leaned back to watch you unravel. “That’s my girl.” 

With a sudden, rough motion, he grabbed the waistband of your panties and ripped them off, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound that made you flinch. The cool air hit your exposed pussy, and you gasped, the vulnerability sending a wave of shame through you. Heeseung’s eyes locked onto you, drinking in the sight with a hunger that made your stomach twist. “Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, as he spread your legs wider, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.

He’d studied you, memorized you, those late nights spent in the shadows of your room giving him a map of every sensitive spot, every reaction. Now, he wielded that knowledge like a weapon. His fingers thrusted into you with a mean rhythm, curling just right to hit that spot that made your hips buck and a broken whine tear from your throat. “Don’t hold back now,” he taunted, his tone sharp and cruel. “I know you can’t… So why don't you just scream for me, baby. Let me hear it all.”

Your body trembled, betrayed by the slick heat pooling between your legs, whimpers spilling out despite your efforts to hold them back. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Look at you, such a mess,” he sneered, his words cutting sharp. “Crying and whining, and for what? My fingers? You’re so fucking desperate.”

He could feel the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your breaths turned shallow and desperate, and he smirked, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Not yet,” he growled, slowing his thrusts just as you neared the brink, denying you the release you craved. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

Your whimpers turned into a choked sob, your body trembling with the agony of being so close, only to be pulled back. “Please,” you gasped, the word slipping out before you could stop it, your pride crumbling under the overwhelming need. Heeseung’s grin widened, dark and wicked, as he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin. “Begging already?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

Before you could respond, he surged forward, his mouth attacking your pussy, lips closed around your clit, sucking hard.

Your thighs clenched around his head, instinctively trying to push him away, but he only growled, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against you, his voice thick with lust, his tongue diving deeper, lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough. 

“Please, Heeseung, let me cum,” you begged, your voice breaking, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure became unbearable. The desperation in your voice only spurred him on, his moans vibrating against your clit as he sucked harder, his fingers pushing you right to the edge again. 

But he didn’t make you wait this time. His tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped. You screamed, your body convulsing as you came hard, your thighs tightening around his head, your hips bucking against his mouth. Heeseung moaned against you, lapping up every bit of your release, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself in the taste.

Your body trembled, oversensitive and shaking from the intensity of your climax, your scream still echoing in your ears as you gasped for breath. Heeseung’s mouth stayed on you, lapping at your oversensitive clit with no sign of stopping. You wiggled beneath him, your hips jerking as you tried to pull away, the sensation too much, too overwhelming. “Heeseung, please—stop,” you gasped, your voice raw and pleading, your thighs clenching in a futile attempt to close against his head.

But he didn’t stop. If anything, your pleas only spurred him on. He moaned into you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, his eyes half-lidded and glazed as he buried his face deeper. “Cant stop… need more,” he mumbled, his voice muffled but thick with lust. 

He shifted slightly, one hand leaving your hip to fumble with his pants, yanking them down just enough to free his cock as he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself. 

“Heeseung, please,” you begged, your voice raw, tears streaming down your face. “It’s too much—stop!”

“Shut up,” he snapped, his voice low, his lips barely lifting from your skin. “You don’t get to tell me to stop.” His tongue pressed harder, circling your clit, his teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out in pain.

“That’s it,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Keep crying, keep begging. It just makes you wetter, doesn’t it?”

You couldn’t fight it anymore—the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation all crashing together. With a scream that tore from your throat, you came again, your eyes rolling back as your body convulsed, his name spilling from your lips in a broken, unwilling cry. “Heeseung!” The sound was raw, desperate, and it sent a shudder through him, his eyes glinting with triumph.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening, his gaze dark as he sat up, positioning himself between your legs, his pants already halfway down. His cock, hard and leaking, pressed against you, and before you could process it, he sank into you with one deep, forceful thrust. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming, your walls forced to open around him, the intrusion sharp and intense. Tears streamed down your face, your body still reeling from the last climax, now pushed further by the relentless pressure of him filling you completely.

Heeseung whined, his hands gripping your hips as he started moving. “So fucking tight,” he growled, his voice strained, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the way you clenched around him.

Your voice was gone, stolen by the overwhelming sensation of Heeseung’s cock thrusting into you, each movement stripping away your ability to form words. All you could manage were choked, broken whines, spilling from your lips as your body trembled beneath him. His thrusts were unpredictable—sometimes rough and fast, slamming into you with a force that made your whole body jolt, the bedframe crashing into the wall; other times slow and deep, dragging out every sensation as he filled you completely, making you feel every inch of him.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with fake kindness. “Can’t even talk, huh? Just a whining little mess, taking my cock like you were made for it.” His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin, his eyes locked on where he disappeared inside you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so greedy for me.. sucking me in like you can’t get enough. You love this, don’t you?”

Tears streamed down your face, but he only laughed, a dark, mocking sound, as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna cum so deep in you,” he muttered, his tone possessive. “Fill you up so good, not a single drop’s gonna leave. No other guy’s ever gonna have you like this. No one else could make you fall apart like I do.”

His thrusts shifted again, rough and punishing, each one pulling a choked whimper from your throat as he drove into you with relentless force. “I’ve craved you for so fucking long,” he confessed, his voice raw, almost unhinged, his eyes wild as they met yours.

“This pussy—shit, it’s mine, always been mine, hasn’t it? Sucking me in like you were made for me...” His words spilled out in a chaotic rush, as he leaned closer, his breath hot and erratic against your skin. “You don’t even know, do you?” he rambled, his voice low, almost feverish. “All those nights, watching you, touching you, listening to you moan in your sleep—fuck, it drove me crazy, knowing you were right there, so close, so fucking perfect. And now, now I’ve got you, and you’re not going anywhere.” His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his, his eyes burning with a manic intensity. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think straight, until you’re screaming my name so loud the whole building knows who you belong to.”

His mouth was hot on your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of marks that burned under his lips. “Fuck, you’re everything to me,” he rambled, his words spilling out in a frenzied, desperate rush, his breath ragged against your skin. “Every single day, every fucking night, I’ve been obsessed, consumed by you—thinking about this, about you under me, taking me so perfectly. You don’t even know how long I’ve waited, how much I’ve needed this, needed you. Shit, you feel so fucking good, so tight, gripping me like you were made for me..”

His free hand slid up from your hip, grabbing your breast, his fingers kneading the soft flesh as his thumb flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt through you. You gasped, your body arching despite your efforts to resist, and he groaned, low and needy, his mouth moving to your chest. “God, these tits,” he muttered, his voice breaking with a whine, his lips barely lifting from your skin. “So fucking perfect, so mine. You have no idea what it does to me.. Walking around, teasing me without even trying, making me lose my mind just watching you.”

His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, each one pulling a choked whimper from your throat as he drove into you with a ferocity that left you breathless. “Heeseung,” spilled from your lips before you could stop it. His eyes widened, a wild glint flashing in them, and he groaned, his control snapping completely. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed repeatedly, his voice strained as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep.

He came hard, his release flooding you, hot and overwhelming, his hips twitching as he emptied himself inside you. “Shiiiiit,” he whimpered, his voice breaking into a drawn-out moan, his body shuddering as he gripped your ass cheeks tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force. Drool slipped from his lips, glistening as it dripped onto your tits, his mouth still hovering over your nipple, sucking weakly as he rode out the high. “So fucking good,” he mumbled, his words slurred, almost incoherent, his breath ragged as he pressed himself deeper, ensuring every drop stayed inside you.

Your body was numb, trembling under his weight, the cuffs biting into your wrists as you lay there, tears drying on your cheeks. Heeseung’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and possessive, a faint smirk curling his lips as he saw the state you were in. “Look at you,” he said, his voice dripping with a cruel satisfaction. “All fucked out, just for me. Bet you didn’t even know you could feel this good, huh?”

He shifted slightly, his cock still buried inside you, and leaned down, his tongue flicking over your other nipple, teasing it with slow licks. The sensation made you whimper, your oversensitive body jerking involuntarily. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, his voice needy but still laced with that mean edge. “Every inch of you, every sound you make—it’s all mine. You’re gonna remember this, baby, every fucking second of it.” He pulled back slightly, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in the marks he’d left—bruises on your hips, redness on your breasts, the faint bite marks on your neck. His smirk widened, a twisted pride in his eyes as he reached down, brushing his fingers lightly over your clit, making you flinch and whine. “Still so sensitive,” he taunted, his touch gentle to torment you further. “I could do this all day, you know. Keep you here, make you cum again and again until you can’t even think straight, until all you know is me.”

His words sent a fresh wave of dread through you, but your body was too exhausted to fight, your breaths shallow as you lay there, pinned beneath him. 

He leaned down, his face hovering inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. “My perfect girl,” he murmured, his voice low and deceptively soft. It caused your skin to crawl. Then, he closed the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, claiming kiss.

At first, it was gentle, his mouth moving softly, savoring the feel of you. But then he deepened it, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, invading your mouth with a hungry edge. You whimpered, the sound muffled against him, your body tensing as he claimed even this part of you. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you in place, his fingers digging in just enough to keep you still as he explored your mouth, tasting you like he owned every inch.

“Fuck, even your mouth is perfect,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice rough, breaking with a craving. “All of you, every fucking part, it’s all mine.” He deepened the kiss again, his teeth grazing your lower lip, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, your body jerking involuntarily.

Your mind screamed to resist, but your body was too weak, too overwhelmed, and the cuffs held you fast. His kiss swallowed your protests, claiming you in a way that felt as invasive as everything else he’d done. He pulled back slightly, just enough to let you catch a ragged breath, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched you tremble beneath him. “That’s it,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips, his voice dripping with possession. “Even your kisses belong to me now.”

a/n: oh no hes hot...

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny @dollyyun

@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos @yenienha

@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash

@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111

@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @gyuuberriess @yingelics

@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @kiripimaspillow @petulapetula

@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc @nishimurarizzler

@jakeluvrrs @firstclassjaylee @xnatqq @arclviie @prk-hoon @jun2ki @mrcarrots

@vvenusoncasual @bamguetismee @cristy-101 @lynreiii @fancypeacepersona

@mrsjohnnysuh @jessie-grech @heeevangelizesme @jazz7gnab @hearts4h00n @wonniesjungdimple

@deliciousmagazinequeen @kristynaaah @mynameis-rosie1

@cutehoons02 @starry-eyed-bimbo @aruhoon @cyjhhyj @rayofsunshineeee @rikismura @aamirazx @beaepa @hearts4h00n @wonenonly @parkjjongswifey @edgedsubflower

[elikajinnie]

Who am I?

Attended 4 writing courses (writing for 11 years - Prev english major)

Criminology student

!!Blank blogs without content will be blocked!!

Navigation:

“Wands whisper fate in quiet halls.”

“Rhythms rise where hearts collide.”

“He loved you in the dark — where no one could hear you scream.”

“Storm-born, god-marked, wild and free.”

“Beneath the mask, a storm brews.”

© 𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 2024. 𝖭𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. T𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 .

[luvyeni]

ꕥ SEX SHOP ⸝⸝⸝ lee heeseung !

( req? yes / no ) …

⧼ 📎 ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ lee heeseung x shy!reader 𓄵 wc. 6.1k genre。smut contains! multiple sex scene ( basically 6k of straight porn ) , oral ( f and mentions of m ) , sex toys , fingering , unprotected sex , small corruption kink { back to library }

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ── after finally getting you into the sex shop heeseung offers to help you out with whatever you needed …

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ first long fic after a while and i really like this one

heeseung loved working at the sex shop; he couldn't deny it, he loved it so much because to simply put it — heeseung loved having sex. the pleasure of being inside of women , getting her to the finish line brought him bliss alone , he didn’t need to finish to feel satisfied. he was extremely versatile as well , conformed to whomever he was pleasuring , if they were a dom he didn’t mind being a sub for the night , he enjoyed being overstimulated by a pretty girl … or two.

but he mostly was a dom; he never crossed boundaries when it came to the girls he pleasured , most would say he’d put their pleasure before his and he didn’t care. when he started working at the sex shop it was because he thought it was an easy way to find girls to take back to his apartment and fuck — which yes it was , but sometime between his 6th month and 20th hook up he looked forward to clocking in and out of the shop. the owner was an over the top girl , who he wasted no time hooking up with during his first month there , in the shop.

he liked helping the different ladies come in to find different ways to get off themselves ; the way they’d blush when he gave them an in depth explanation about a certain vibrator, or the sultry looks he’d get from girls when he’d inform them on how much better the 5inch dildo was better than the 9inch ones because it’s not about the size it’s about how you feel when you use it and an average size is the best way to get there and it doesn’t hurt.

but what heeseung loved the most is the shy girls — he fucking loves the shy girls. the way they’d be almost scared to come into the store; and when they do they keep their heads low , almost scared to look at the inventory. he found out quickly those were the girls down for anything , he had fun when them; when they’d covered their faces when he fucked them , covering their mouths when they came so he wouldn’t hear them moaning ; the way they’d even shy away from him when he cuddled them afterwards.

but there was one girl; you — he was obsessed with you; the crazy thing is he’s never met you , well at least not held a conversation with you. it’s not like he didn’t want to , it’s that you never came fully into the store. you only stood outside , like you wanted to come in but something stopped you , and if he made eye contact with you, your eyes would go wide and you’d scurry away before he could say something ; he thought it was the cutest thing , clearly you wanted something but he suspected you probably didn’t know what you wanted. but he was sure that if you gave him a chance he’d show you exactly what you wanted , even if you didn’t know what it was — he did.

you tried to go into the store; you really did, you just couldn’t. you friends told you there was nothing to be afraid of , and that it would benefit you so much. “if you don’t want anyone to give you pleasure , then how about you get something to pleasure yourself?” ryujin said. “like what?” you said munching on the bag of pretzels you were sharing. “girl a vibrator.” she said. “god you do know what a vibrator is right?”

your cheeks heated up and you looked down bashfully. “of-of course i have , i just …” you trailed off. “i just never used one.” winter your other friends stared at you in shock. “yn? seriously?” she said , you shrugged. “you’ve really been walking around here untouched and horny this long, no wonder you’re always on edge , you’ve got built up pressure inside you.” you coughed nervously. “ca-can i get it online?” you asked. “you could.” winter said. “or… you could go to the sex shop that’s like 10 minutes away from you and get it today.” you’ve seen that store before , you’ve walked past it numerous times ; unable to go in. one because you were intimidated by all the things inside and two, the worker inside really scared you , it felt like his eyes bore holes into you every time you attempted to walk in. “i can’t go in there.”

“why not?” ryujin asked. “they’ll have everything you need in there to make you cum , which you clearly need.” you glared at her. “stop being so loud.” you whispered. “i-i’ll stop by after class.” you said , just to shut them up. “good , maybe you’ll find something”

after class you made the trip down to where the sex shop is , doing some other shopping — which you probably did to avoid going to the shop , but eventually you couldn’t avoid it; so you stood outside the shop , stopping right at the threshold. you looked at the register, the cute but intimidating cashier wasn’t there , so you hesitantly walked in , one foot after the other until you were finally in the shop. letting out a sigh of relief as you slowly walk around , clutching your bag as you walk around , looking at the various different toys; handcuffs and other interesting things. your face was already hot as you looked for the vibrators. “so you finally found the guts to come fully into the store.”

you quickly turn around; faced with the cute cashier , looking down at his name tag. “he-heeseung.” you stuttered softly; he smiled at the way you said his name. “i-i was just looking around — for what?” he said. “nothing important ; i’ll go now.” you were about to leave when he chuckled , a pit formed in your stomach. “of course you don’t know what you’re here for , that’s why i’m here.” he said. “yo-you can help me?” you asked. “well it’s what i get paid for.” he said. “but i happen to be a bit of an expert — you’re an expert at vibrators?” you blurt out , both of you shocked at your outburst. “ah so you do know what you’re here for?” he said , you gulped, nodding. “well have you used a vibrator before?”

you bit your lip; feeling his dark gaze on you , like a predator to its prey. “i-i havent.” you felt him smile. “that’s okay we all start somewhere,” he said. “follow me.” he said , you walk behind him to the back , he occasionally looked back to make sure you didn’t run away. ”here they are.” he pointed; there were so many choices , you were overwhelmed and heeseung could see that , the look on your face turned him on. “th-there’s so many.” you said. “yeah.” his eyes followed you as you looked at the different vibrators. “that’s a good one.” he said when you picked up one. “i-is it?” you held it in your hand.

“do you know how to use it?” he was close; almost too close. “i’m sure i could look it up…” you made brief eye contact with him , quickly looking down. “can’t be that hard right , you just you know?” you stopped , speaking again. “use it?” he laughed. “well sure you do just use it , but do you know where to use it?” he said. “what makes you tick? what turns you on?” god you looked so cute all flustered ; he just wanted to pounce on you like he always thought about doing when he watched you fight internally about whether you should come in or not — and now that you’re in here , he had a chance but he didn’t want to scare you. “i-i don’t.”

“of course you don’t , you need a little help.” he was now cornering you in the empty store. “i can help you if you want.” he said. “we can figure out what makes your pretty little body go crazy.” he took the toy out of your hand , the pit in your stomach now in your throat , this stranger — this hot stranger was cornering you whispering seductively about helping you pleasure yourself. “you want that hmm? for me to help you.” you gulped , unsure about what to say. “how about this , i give you my number and you figure out what you want , and give me a call? what do you think about that?”

“ye-yes.” you said nodding ; he chuckled holding his hand out. “hand me your phone.” you obeyed , quickly pulling out your phone. “good girl.” you almost let out a noise , he smirked typing into your phone. “here.” he handed the phone back. “yn.” you flushed at the way he read your name off the back of your case. “let’s ring up your purchase and send you on your way , pretty.”

you made your way back to the front; he rung up your purchase putting it in the bag; handing it to you , your fingers touching slightly. “make sure you use that number.” he said , you nodded , quickly leaving the store. “you know we have cameras in the store?” his boss came to the front. “you didn’t seem to have a problem with it when it was you pinned up against the shelves.” he shot back. “she doesn’t even know what she wants.” heeseung shrugged. “it’s not about what she wants.” he said , voice low.

“it’s about what i can give her.”

you got home sitting the bag on the table; looking at it. you quickly took a picture sending it to the group chat ; cheeks heating up as your friends sent in text of encouragement — you didn’t bother telling them what happened with heeseung at the store , simply because it still felt like a dream to you , but the phone number in your phone labeled with his name said otherwise.

after your shower; you sat on the bed staring at the box. you slowly opened it ; taking the small toy out , examining it. grabbing your laptop , you typed into the search bar ‘how to use a vibrator?’ — was it childish? yeah but you wanted answers; and you weren’t disappointed , multiple videos on how to use the device , you didn’t know what to choose so you click a random one , watching curiously as the girl on the screen used the toy on her lower region , a loud moan from her mouth as she pleasured herself — it really turned you on which confused you , but that was a discovery for a different day , you just wanted to figure out how to relieve this pain you had down below.

you laid back; the video still playing, you turned on the toy , the vibration going wild making you almost drop it before turning it down, a slow vibration coming from it now , you sighed , moving the toy lower and lower until you reached your waistband , biting your lip as you gently moved past the waistband , your hand hovering over your panties , you pressed the toy on your clothed bud , barely feeling much , it was definitely a bit disappointing but you didn’t give up , you pressed the button making the vibrations a little more intense , but it still didn’t do much , but it was enough to have you feeling tingly inside. “o-oh.”

you moved it around; trying to find the right spot but you just couldn’t , about 30 minutes later you were even more turned on and another video was playing but you weren’t watching it , too upset. “did i waste my money?” just as you said that , you remembered heeseung. you flushed , thinking about what he said — should you call him? would he even answer. your brain picking an answer for you , your thumb hovering over the contact ; pressing call…

heeseung typed away at his computer; some research paper that was due for class; he wasn’t really engaged in it really , he’d come home from his shift ready for bed but he’d forgotten about school work — so here he sat , his mind still on you. he looked at his phone , but nothing , not even a hi. he knew you’d probably be reluctant , girls like you were like that , so he had to patient; but not that long , as soon as he put the phone down it went off , a random number popping up on the screen.

you barely let it ring before you almost hung up. “hello.” it was too late , you could barely speak but he didn’t need you to speak to know who it was, he smirked standing up from his chair , getting into bed. “i know it’s you.” he said. “hi-hi.” you squeaked. “hi.”

you looked at the discarded toy on the bed; your face was burning. “did you use it?” he took charge of the conversation. “the vibrator? did you use it.” he heard you let out a low whimper. “are you using it now?” he asked. “n-no i tried.” you said , he shut his eyes trying to picture it , his cock stirring in his sweats. “you did? and?” he said , his hand working his way down. “it didn’t work.” he chuckled. “i had a feeling it would , it didn’t work because you don’t know what your doing pretty.” you didn’t know why but his condescending tone turned you on. “yo-you said you’d help.”

your body felt hot as you waited for his response. “tell me what you did wrong, pretty.” he palmed his cock listening to you struggling to speak about what you attempted to do. “you didn’t cum?” he asked. “no-no.” you muttered out. “oh poor little thing , bet you’re all pent up?” you let out another whimper. “stop making those noises , i can’t control myself when you do.” you couldn’t believe this stranger had you feeling like this. “i can help you.” he said. “first tell me what you want.”

“yo-you know wh-what i want.” you said. “i do , but i want to hear you say it.” the phone shook in your hand. “tell me.” his voice was lower. “i-i wa-want to cum.” he hummed in satisfaction. “good girl.”

“first turn that horrid video you’re playing in the back anyone could tell her moans aren’t even real.” you quickly slammed the laptop down. “i-i didn’t think you could hear that.” he laughed. “of course you didn’t , i’m more surprised that you’re watching porn , you’re certainly not the type,” he said. “what are you wearing right now?” you looked down at your pajamas. “my pajamas.” you spoke so innocently , he made him swoon. “of course you are , how about you take those bottoms off , along with your panties , you can’t really get off if you’re wearing them can you?” you sat the phone down , taking your pants off along with your underwear , pushing this off the bed. the sudden air to your cunt had you moaning.

he bit down on his lip hard trying not to pleasure himself , not yet; this was about you. “look at you so noisy and i haven’t even told you to do anything,” he said. “now before you use the toy , i want you to touch yourself.” you gripped the phone as your hand got lower until you felt a sensation greater than the ones from the vibrator. “oh-oh my.” you moaned, he chuckled. “i see you found your clit , how about you rub it a little , get your little pussy all wet for me.”

‘for me’ that had your head spinning; he listened closely trying to hear the sounds your pussy made , trying to visualize what it would sound like if he was inside you. “does it feel good?” he asked. “mhm.” you bit your lip. “don’t cover up your moans , i want to hear them.” you kept rubbing feeling something inside you. “i-i feel weird.” you said. “not weird, good.” he said. “but i want you to stop now.”

you didn’t want to; but you did. “wh-why.” you said. “because i want you to pick up the vibrator and turn it on. “o-okay.” you picked up the toy ; turning it on the lowest setting. “i did.” your voice was low and out breathless , he let out a low ‘fuck’ as he tried to contain himself. “good now put it on your pussy , make sure to get your clit.” pushing his pants down unable to contain himself. “do it.”

you obey , finding your clit with ease pressing the toy down on it gently , legs twitching as the vibrations ran all through you. “hee-heeseung.” you moaned out. “yeah? you feel good.” he stroked his cock. “ye-yeah.” you stuttered. “fuck if i was there…” he groaned , stopping. “wh-what would you do?” getting a splurge of confidence , voice still shaky. “you wouldn’t need that toy because i’d be making you cum on my tongue.” you gasped at this , pressing the toy down harder on your bud. “how about you up the intensity , make yourself cum for me.” you did as told. “oh my god.” you moaned , he squeezed his length. “you wanna cum?” he asked. “ye-yes.”

“keep the toy on your clit , up the intensity one more.” your eyes widened as you did what he said; a loud moan coming from your mouth. “fuck you sound so pretty , fucking yourself dumb with that toy , such a good girl , come for me.” your mouth dropped open as you let out a moan as bliss took over , and your orgasm came to a close. “fuck i’m cumming.” he groaned , his load staining his shirt , he’d need to change. “fuck i haven’t came that much in a while.” he said breathlessly. “you feeling good pretty.” you hummed. “ye-yes.”

“good.” he said. “you need to clean yourself up okay?” he said softly. “o-okay.” he was smiling on the other side. “pretty?” he spoke. “yes.” you said , drowsy , ready to sleep. “don’t fall asleep on me.” he said , but your eyes were already closing , he could’ve hung up , but he didn’t he listened to you softly snoring , but he couldn’t help but imagine you laying there half naked. “fuck.” he sighed feeling himself getting hard again. “if i get you alone im gonna make you cum on my cock.”

you woke up the next morning; feeling refreshed , your phone hadn’t been charged due to you falling asleep as soon after , plugging your phone up before getting ready for the day , your body was still sticky , but you felt lighter almost. after your shower , you checked your phone and noticed a text from heeseung. ‘you feel asleep on the phone , you moan in your sleep btw 😉’ your face heated up as you sat the phone back down. you also changed the sheets , and put the vibrator in your bedside drawer , the night before flooding your mind , your body heating up , but you had class to get to.

“you what?” winter said as you; her and ryujin sat at the lunch table. “we said get a vibrator , not fuck the cashier.” you shushed her. “i-i didn’t fuck him.” you said shyly. “he just helped out over the phone.” you shrugged. “oh my god our baby.” winter said. “i’m not a baby.” you said. “well not anymore , you’re not.” she exclaimed. “you’re our little slurry girl whom we love very much.” you shook your head. “is he cute?”

you blushed; nodding. “he is.” they squealed. “hell yeah , get that dick girl , you deserve it.” ryujin spoke loudly. “you should invite him over.” you shook your head. “i don’t think so , i hardly know him.” “you know him well enough to call him when you wanted to cum.” you threw a fry at winter. “shut up.” she shrugged picking up the fry , eating it. “i’d call him.” ryujin said. “would you?” she nodded. “if it doesn’t go anywhere then okay , but if it does then even better.” she smiled , lighting hitting your shoulder. “maybe.” you said. “good.”

heeseung on the other hand, couldn’t get you off his mind. he’d only had two interactions with you and yet you plagued his mind. the way you sounded , moaning out as you came. “heeseung.” his co worker pulled him out of his thoughts. “a customer.” he stood up straight , pressing against the counter to hide his boner. “what the fuck is your problem?” he turned to his coworker, jake. “nothing i’m perfectly fine.” he said , jake nodded. “you’re sporting an obvious hard on and the girl who just left clearly was trying to get your attention and you didn’t even notice.”

“do you have a girlfriend?” jake smirked. “no fucking way you have a girlfriend — i’m pretty sure you’ve gotten more girls numbers here than you’ve made sales , no way you’ve found a girl that can make you settle down.” heeseung rolled his eyes. “i don’t have a girlfriend.” he said. “just a girl who came in here once and he’s been obsessed with.” his boss said. “he had her pinned to the shelves yesterday , poor girl was so shocked.” she tutted. “innocent little thing.”

“is she serious?” jake asked. “well you know she has to be dramatic about it , but yeah there’s a girl.” he said. “she was too scared to come in here , but yesterday she finally did , and i just offered to help her.” he explained. “help her how?” jake’s eyebrows raised. “none of your business.” he said , he wanted to keep this to himself. “good grief you don’t even want to brief , she must be different.” jake said heeseung didn’t say anything , back to thinking about you , his phone buzzing. “is that her?” heeseung glared at him , picking up the phone. “i’m taking a break.”

pretty girl🤎. hi …

heeseung💫. hey pretty what’s up?

biting his lip waiting for you to answer. the bubble showing up and then deleting again; you were in a dilemma , he could tell.

heeseung💫. what do you need? me? what is it pretty?

pretty girl🤎. do you want to come over? to watch a movie…

he smiled down at his phone , biting his thumb before sending a text message.

heeseung💫. a movie? i don’t think id be able to just watch a movie with you.

waiting for you to reply; when you finally did he smirked at the response.

pretty girl🤎. i’m fine with that…

he put his phone away , going back to his work , but he was barely there; his mind fully on you now , he barely known you but you’ve wrapped your pretty little hands around him unknowingly and you won’t let go.

when the date came , you ran around the house making sure it was clean enough for company ; putting out a different array of snack for the movie , heeseung text flooding back to you. what did he mean by he wouldn’t be able to just watch a movie? you shook it off , making sure there was enough drinks , checking yourself in the mirror. you had no idea what to wear , so you just wore something you always wore for a comfy night in.

you were about to make one last final sweep around the house when the bell rang. “oh!” you jumped , looking at the door. you walked over to door , smoothing out your tank top , cute red bows decorating it. “okay.” you sighed , reaching for the door , opening it , the man himself standing in the door. “hey.” you looked down shyly at your feet. “hi-hi.” you said. “you gonna let me in?” he said , you moved to the side. “co-come in.” he walked in , taking his shoes off , making his way fully in. “i made snacks.” you said , walking into the living room. “co-come.” he walked into your space , taking in all the snacks , he chuckled. “what?” you asked. he shook his head. “you did good.” he said , you smiled at the praise. “you like being praised i see.”

he moved to the couch , you tried to pass on the thought of what he said. “come sit down.” he patted the seat next to you , his eyes following you as you walked towards the couch. he took in the shorts your wore , the tank top clinging on to your skin — and fuck you weren’t wearing a bra either. sitting down next to him but creating a little distance. “don’t be so shy , come here.” he said and you got a little closer. “good girl , you listen so well.” you could feel that same feeling you felt the night before. “did you find a movie?”

“i-i didn’t know what you wanted to watch so i waited.” he nodded , letting you speak. “it doesn’t matter.” he said , you reached over , picking up the remote , he got a peak of your boobs , quickly reverting his eyes from your chest. “is a scary movie okay?” he nodded. “whatever you want pretty.” he watched you smile to yourself. “ok-okay.” you said , searching through the options before deciding on a random movie , turning it on.

you reached over , turning the lamp off , going to turn the other one off , reaching over heeseung. “i-i really like this one.” you said. “yeah?” he was manspreading , he looked so sinful like that , your body was so hot , the movie playing in the background but you kept staring at him. “you keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get to watch the movie.” he smirked , looking at you. “unless you don’t want to watch the movie.” you fiddled with your thumbs. “maybe you called me over here because of something else.”

“i-i…” you couldn’t get the right words out. “did i make you feel good yesterday over the phone?” he asked , you nodded. “words.” was all he said. “ye-yeah.” you said. “i’ve never felt anything like that before.” he could feel his cock stirring in his pants. “of course you haven’t.” his hand coming up to your thighs. “but that’s self pleasure ; i didn’t do anything but guide you.” you gulped feeling his hands go higher. “i can make you feel like that though.” he stopped right at your thighs. “maybe even better.” squeezing your plush thighs , you moaned. “hee-heeseung.” he smiled. “so damn sensitive , how am i supposed to control myself if you keep sounding so pretty for me?”

he was now looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. “we don’t have to do everything.” he said , pulling you down , hovering on top of you. “just let me make you cum.” he whispered. “i can make you feel better than that toy.” he rubbed your waist. “so much better.” he kissed your lips softly. “say yes.” he whispered against them. “ye-yes.” he kissed you lips once more before using his hand to pull your shorts down your legs. “so fucking pretty.” he whispered more to himself , spreading your legs open , getting a glimpsed of your clothed cunt. “fuck.”

you tried to close your legs , getting shy again but he held them open. “don’t hide yourself from me ever again , understand?” he said firmly. “ye-yes.” he smiled. “good , now let’s see.” pulling your underwear down. “heeseung.” he bit his lip. “so pretty down there , little pussy is so swollen and desperate to be touched.” he kissed your waist. “you smell so good.” you bit your lips , he held your legs open , kissing the insides of your thighs. “i want to hear you.”

that was the last thing he said before he licked a stripe up your slit. “heeseung!” you squealed out as he lapped at your cunt , you sweet taste on his tongue as he slurped up the everything , his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. “oh my god.” your hands hitting the couch as you tried to gain control , but it was so hard since he was so eager at eating you out , like he was doing it for himself as well as you.

heeseung was lost in you; he could stay here forever and wouldn’t even mind. your taste was addicting. the way your hands ghosted over his head like you wanted to grab his hair — he wanted you to. he pulled away , grabbing your hand , bringing it to his hair. “please pull it , i fucking love it.” he went back to eating you out , you yank at his scalp over and over as your hips bucked up into his mouth , he was about to cum in his pants just from eating you out and you pulling his hair. “heeseung im gonna —..” he pulled away , rubbing your clit. “good girl , cum for me.” your eyes rolling to the back of your head — then he felt it , himself cumming simply from watching you orgasm. “oh fuck.” he hissed , breathlessly. “pretty you don’t know what you’ve done to me.” he spoke softly , his soft hand rubbing your waist. “i told you i’d make you feel good.”

hovering over you; kissing your cheeks. “you look pretty like this.” he whispered , you smiled. “th-thank you.” your face hot as you tried to cover your face to hide your embarrassment. “no , don’t do that.” he said. “i want to see you.” holding your hands together to keep you from covering your face. “you don’t need to be shy from me.” he said. “let’s clean you up yeah?” he helped you up to your room , spending the next 30 minutes tending to you , it had only been two days and you felt your heart swelling from his kindness and tenderness — he was making you fall for him.. hard.

the next few week a whirlwind; the both of you hardly spent time apart ; even then you texted everyday , updating each other on whatever you were doing. and when you were together — it was pure heat ; heeseung introduced you to so many things , teaching so many things.

you still remember the first time he ever fingered you; it didn’t happen in your home or his , no — it happened in the back of a movie theater , his hand covering your mouth as his other one fucked you open , he whispered dirty things into your ear as he made you cum over and over on his fingers , bringing them to his lips to taste you , he was able to keep himself from cumming untouched right there ; but once he got home he spent hours trying to get rid of his hard on , he was covered in sweat and his own cum at the end , but he was still hard … that’s when he first broke a little , he need to feel you growing.

you even learned to give him head; he didn’t need it but he also didn’t protest it , especially when you finally got the hang of it , your mouth was something else , the way you took all of him , your eyes teary as you gagged around him , he had at force himself not to fuck your face , you took his cum down your throat without asking , he thought about that for the next few days , even then he still looked forward to your calls , the way you smiled explaining to him about a new plushie you got or which project you were working on.

his job at the sex shop became more of a job than a place to pick up girls , he had the girl he wanted — but that didn’t stop him from using that employee discount to buy different toys to use on you ; and you were so willing to try anything , handcuffs and different types of vibrators — plugs and candies that made you more wet , it was like he found someone just as freaky as he was even though you weren’t always like that. of course you were still shy sometimes , covering your face when he said something dirty but he’d always hit you with the same line : “you humped my thigh like a dog in heat why are you acting so shy?” you even watched him use a fleshlight over a video call , it was probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed and you weren’t even pleasuring yourself , you just wanted to watch him.

“you’re a little perv you know that right?” you sat on top of him in your bed. “me?” you said shocked. “you work at a sex shop , it doesn’t get any more perverted than that.” he laughed. “oh really ? and how about we open up this little drawer over here and take a look.” he reached for your night stand — where you new collection of toys that he bought you were. “he-hey don’t do that.” you grabbed his hand. “besides you bought them for me.”

“but you use them when i’m not here, don't you?” he said, rubbing your waist gently. “we-well.” he smirked, watching you fumble over your words. “exactly , it’s okay pretty.” he said, caressing your cheek. “you’re my little pervert.” you giggled, he pulled you into a deep kiss , biting down on your lip. “he-heeseung.” you whimpered. “you look so adorable baby.” he said. “so cute even when you dont know what you’re doing to me.” his voice low , making a pit form in your stomach. “wh-what am i doing hee?”

“first of all kissing me like this.” he said. “and grinding down on my cock like this in your pretty panties.” you gasped , you didn’t even feel yourself moving , he finally let out a groan , a dry laugh following. “baby , fuck i’m trying i really am.” he said. “but you’re making it so hard.” he confessed. “so hard to not pin you down and fuck you silly.” he hissed , pinching your thighs as you moved more , grinding down on him. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum i’m my pants.” he said — he finally snapped. “fuck.”

he flipped you over so you were now under him. “i can’t take the teasing anymore.” pinning you down to the bed. “please tell me to stop right now if you don’t want it.” he feverishly said. “cause it won’t feel good if you’re not 100%? on board.” he said softly. “i-i want it.” you stuttered. “good , cause i want you so fucking much , i think i can cum right now just by looking at you.”

you moaned as he spread your legs open; your underwear sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. “so pretty , fucking addicted to this pussy.” pulling the fabric down , leaving you bare from the waist down. “wanna be in between your legs all the time.” he kissed your cunt. “taste so good.” his voice was muffled. “fuck heeseung.” you gasped , your hands no longer shy from his hair , gripping it harshly , he groaned loving it , he sucked on your clit making you see stars.

“ah-ah i’m gonna cum!” you shrieked , he didn’t pull away hold your thighs to keep you from trying move away. “heeseung , im cumming!” one last suck on your clit sent you over the edge , you covered your mouth trying to contain the loud moan ; heeseung didn’t like that , pulling away , giving your aunt a little slap before grabbing your wrist pulling them away from your face. “i told you to stop hiding from me.”

he held your wrist in one hand , removing his bottoms. “you sure you really want this?” he whispered , you looked down in between you and him , watching him pump his cock. “we don’t have to , i told you i don’t need this , i just like making you feel good.” he said. “i want it.” you said , he lined himself up with your entrance. “i-i’ll go slow.” he said in a hushed tone , before slowly pushing himself inside. “fuck.” he sighed feeling you wrapping around him. “fuck you’re so tight.” he thought about this moment all the time , it was nothing like this — it was better , you were so warm. “god i’m fucking obsessed with you.” he confessed as he began to move. “you don’t even know what you do to me.” you gasped, unable to speak. “heeseung.”

his thrust were deliberate ; he fucked you with a purpose. his thick cock kissing your cervix. “that’s it , keep moaning for me.” he grunted. “i want to hear it all.” your voice getting louder and louder. “i want you to cum for me.” the hand gripping your waist. “hee — shh , you can do it , you can take it.” he said. “i’m gonna cum.” he gave your lips a passionate kiss. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head , cumming — tightening around him , he hissed. “oh fuck i’m gonna cum.” he sped up pounding into you , his cock twitched as he pulled out , tugging at his cock as he came , coating your cunt in his load. “shit.”

kissing your lips over and over until you giggle pushing him away. “stop it.” he smiled down at you. “i’m glad you finally decided to walk into the shop,” he stated. “otherwise i would’ve never gotten to know you.” you smiled back. “or is it because you never gotten to fuck me you pervert.” he pinched you side making you yelp. “heeseung!” “but you do have a point you sound so cute whimpering my name.” he kissed your neck. “one of the best things to ever be witnessed , the other is you cumming on my cock.” he said , you felt him getting hard again. “i mean the toys aren’t that bad.” that triggered something in him. “really?” he reach over , pulling out the very same vibrator you bought the day you met in the shop. “i’m not against using toys to help you get there pretty.” he said , lining himself back up with your entrance , turning the toy on with a teasing smirk.

“just don’t try and run away from me when i make you cum for the umpteenth time tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

[ryuk0zz]

heeseung solo audio

minors DNI

contains moans, wet noises . . .

heeseung x listener (m/f) — requested

jerking off to your pics like the loser he is.

[mitsub4chi-blog]

needy subby seungie fucking his hand to ur pics👀🫦

[mssishipi]

SANDALI — lhs

— si heeseung yung tipong kasalanan na hindi mo kayang iwasan, lalo na sa mga sandaling kayo lang dalawa ang naiiwan sa bahay.

content tags: filipino content! brother's best friend! heeseung x reader, secret relationship, fluff, explicit content (smut): KANTUTAN, unprotected sex, mentions of pussy eating and blowjob, kuya kink (? readers call him kuya). basta bawal sa mga bata. WC:3k

ang hirap talaga sa kapatid mo—sobrang tamad. yung mga damit niya kalat-kalat sa sala, tapos ‘yung brief niya, nakasabit pa sa banyo. nakaka-bwisit din na palagi pa niyang tinataas ‘yung mabaho niyang paa sa lamesa, tapos ang ingay pa ng bunganga.

"bunso, pahiram nga ng pulbos mo."

napasimangot ka agad, halos hindi mo mapigilang igalaw ang mata mo sa sobrang inis. “nanggagago ka ba? makeup powder ko ’yun. hindi ‘yan baby powder!”

“dali na, kaunti lang. pangpadulas lang dito, matatalo na kami sa COD eh.”

sa loob-loob mo, putangina talaga. you hate your brother, buong kaluluwa mo tumatayo kapag marinig mo pa lang ‘yung yapak niya. pero kung may isang bagay lang—isang langgam sa dagat ng kabwisitan—na mapapasalamatan mo sa kanya, ‘yon ay for having a hot bestfriend: si heeseung.

for some cursed reason, laging nasa bahay niyo si heeseung. laging may dahilan, minsan may group project daw, minsan, game night. minsan, sleepover, minsan, wala lang—bigla na lang andun na. para bang ‘yung bahay niyo naging extension ng bahay nila.

at ang pogi niya. nakakainis.

that face! that high nose, ‘yung mga nunal niya sa mukha, tapos ‘yung ngiti niya, putek! nakakakiliti, pero nakakaasar, lalo na kapag tumatawa siya at lumilitaw ang dimples niya.

heeseung is a reminder that perfection exists—at ang masaklap, lagi pa siyang nakadikit sa kapatid mong walang silbi sa mundo.

you love the way he talks. minsan, nagka-karaoke sila sa sala, lalo na kapag may bisita o biglaang inuman sa bahay. heeseung voice? grabe. it's so soft, so clean, parang hinihimas ng hangin ang tenga mo habang bumababa ‘yung tono niya, para kang natutunaw. pero lagi na lang nawawasak ang moment kasi sasabay ‘yung boses ng kapatid mong tunog lata.

ang gusto mo pa kay heeseung ay laging may dalang stick-o sayo.

“para sa’yo,” he’d say with that goddamn smile, handing you the small plastic tub. “pasensiya na ulit sa ingay mamaya ah, mukhang magla-livestream kami ng ranked match. baka makalimutan ni kuya mo na may ibang tao sa bahay.”

and you’d just nod, mumble a quick “thanks” habang pinipilit itago ‘yung kilig sa boses mo.

another thing that makes your heart stupidly betray you ay yung paraan kung paano ginugulo ni heeseung ‘yung buhok mo. lagi niya ‘yung ginagawa kapag dumaan ka sa tapat nila habang naglalaro sila. he doesn’t even look sometimes, parang automatic na lang ‘yung pag-shuffle ng fingers niya sa hair mo.

minsan, kapag nakasimangot ka sa ingay ng duo nila ay lalapit siya sa'yo at pipisilin ‘yung pisngi mo.

“ay, ang sungit,” sabay tawa. “sorry na, sorry na…”

and another — it was just a secret between the two of you.

you liked it—no, you craved it—when heeseung would slip into your room the moment your brother and parents left the house. wala pang limang minuto after magsara ng gate, he’d knock once, softly, then open the door without waiting for a reply.

laging may bitbit siyang dahilan.

“mukhang naiwan ko ‘yung charger ko dito last time.”

or, “sabi ni kuya gyu mo, nandito raw ‘yung extra controller.”

pero ang totoo, hindi charger o controller ang hinahanap niya.

it was you.

and you’d always be waiting. sometimes sa kama, minsan pa nga, you’d pretend to be busy on your phone, acting like his presence didn’t send heat crawling up your spine.

heeseung would walk in with that same calm smile, lock the door behind him, and next thing you know, your back is already sinking into the sheets, knees parting at the way he looks at you.

"tangina," he’d whisper against your thigh, "na-miss ko 'to."

then his mouth would be on you—hungry, his tongue would slide over your folds.

your hand would tangle in his hair, biting your lip hard to keep quiet, knowing full well that if a single moan escaped, the neighbors might wonder.

his favorite position when eating you out is when your ass was up, face buried in your pillow, with your knees spread just enough for him to bury his face deep between your thighs. that view? he swore it could kill him.

at ang pinaka paborito niyang tunog, hindi ‘yung music sa headset ng kuya mo, hindi ‘yung barilan sa COD—pero ‘yung basang tunog ng dila niya sliding over your folds habang halos mapunit mo ‘yung unan sa kakakagat, trying so fucking hard not to scream.

heeseung lives for your sobs. langit sa tenga niya ‘yung tunog ng pag-choke mo sa sarili mong hininga habang sinusubukang pigilan ang mga ungol mo. the way your body twitches under his tongue, how you whisper “please, kuya hee…” between breathless whimpers.

tangina. he never stood a chance.

he knows he shouldn’t. alam niya na off-limits ka. ikaw ang bunso, ikaw ang baby sister ng kaibigan niya. the line was drawn deep but every time he sees you in that worn-out pambahay shirt, hair messy, lips pouting in annoyance.

he wants to fuck the rules out of existence.

because to him, you’re so goddamn cute, it hurts. he wants you. only you. no one else.

sa labas ng kwarto, he keeps up the act. “bunso,” he’d say, teasing, like he wasn’t fantasizing about the way your mouth wrapped around his cock just last night.

but the moment the door clicks shut.

“baby…” he moans, especially when you’re on your knees in front of him, lips wrapped around him, eyes looking up with that innocent little gleam that drives him insane.

heeseung would thread his fingers through your hair, slowly guiding you, whispering, “shit, baby, ang sarap… just like that…” while you bob your head, cheeks flushed, spit dripping from your lips to his thighs.

and when you pull back just to tease him, running your tongue slowly along his shaft, he’d look down at you.

eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched, chest rising heavy with every breath, he’d whisper—

“sakin ka lang.”

the way he says it, claiming, filled with quiet hunger, it makes your pussy throb, wetness pooling between your thighs instantly.

“k-kuya hee…” you whimpered, cheeks warm as he guided your small frame on top of him, settling you on his lap.

your parents were out running errands, your brother beomgyu busy with his basketball liga—and heeseung, well, he was supposedly waiting for your brother to come back so they could play.

pero alam mong hindi yun ang totoo.

“shhh, baby,” heeseung hushed, his hand caressing your hips as he aligned himself with your dripping entrance. slowly, he pushed in, and your back arched, toes curling against the mattress as his thick tip stretched you open right away.

“ah—kuya…”

moments like this, heeseung is always mindful of the time. laging mabilis ang prep, walang masyadong pasakalye. hindi dahil minamadali ka—but because every second counted, every minute was a gamble.

but it’s not your fault your pussy was so tight.

and definitely not heeseung's fault na sobrang laki ng tite niya.

but fuck, you loved it.

you whimpered as he filled you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him, hugging every vein, every inch. you bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you started to grind into him, just the way he liked it—slow, teasing, letting him feel every ripple of your heat.

heeseung watched you, completely mesmerized.

he loved everything—the way your perky nipples bounced slightly with each movement, the curve of your waist, the stretchmarks on your hips, the flush on your cheeks, the way your mouth fell open when you started to lose yourself in the rhythm.

“sarap, kuya?” you asked him softly, innocently, lifting your hips only to slide down again, making both of you shiver at the feeling.

“yes, baby. continue lang…” heeseung’s voice cracked, hands tightening on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as he helped guide your motion. you whimpered again, your body responding eagerly, circling your hips, milking him slowly, lifting again before sliding back down with a soft gasp.

your hands pressed against his chest for balance as you rode him slow and deep, your pussy clenching every time his cock kissed your sweet spot. his head leaned back against the headboard, brows furrowed, lips parted.

he looked ruined. just the way you liked him.

“ahhh…” you moaned, voice trembling as you rode him faster, hips bouncing in rhythm, skin slapping against his with every wet grind. you could already feel your moans getting louder, slipping past your lips uncontrollably.

“shhh,” heeseung hushed you, his thumb reaching up to press gently on your parted lips. “quiet lang tayo, okay?”

you whimpered, eyes wide as you nodded eagerly, sucking his thumb between your lips, tongue circling it slow and obedient. you brought your hand to his wrist, gripping tight, grounding yourself.

“good girl,” he whispered, then he started thrusting his hips up to meet yours—deep, punishing thrusts from below, his cock hitting every fucking spot inside you like he knew your body better than you did. you gasped, muffled by his thumb, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you tried not to scream.

"kuya!" his hand left your mouth and slid down to your throat, it made your pussy clench tighter around him.

“you like that?” he whispered, hips snapping up with power that had your whole body jerking.

your only answer was a choked sob as your hips sped up, riding him faster, harder—chasing that high, that wave building deep in your core.

his grip tightened slightly, his other hand guiding your waist, helping you ride him through the rough rhythm.

“kuya, faster please… ikaw na gumalaw, please, please!” you sobbed out.

heeseung didn't even hesitate, he flipped you over, ikaw na agad ang nakahiga sa kama, legs splayed, body still trembling from how hard you were already being fucked. he wasted no time. he slammed into you, ruthless, his thrusts fast.

you screamed—napaliyad ka sa sobrang sarap—hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. his hand slipped under your thigh, lifting and hooking your leg over his shoulder, that position made the angle of his cock push deeper inside you.

“ahhh—” you moaned out loud, and before your voice could get too loud, heeseung leaned down and kissed you hard, swallowing the sound.

his lips moved desperately against yours, and your hands couldn’t stay still—one moment gripping his hair, tugging at the roots, the next scratching your nails down his back, leaving red lines on his skin. he groaned into your mouth, tongue sliding deep, tasting your every breath.

his hand found your breast, thumb rolling your nipple, while the other caressed your leg, keeping it pinned high, letting him drive in even deeper.

your pussy was throbbing, clenching tight around him. "baby, ang sikip, fuuuck." he groaned, hips stuttering slightly from how tight you were gripping him.

he moaned into your mouth as you tightened around him again, your body arching up to meet his, sweat mixing where your skin collided, your hips bucking to chase every hard, needy thrust.

“kuya, ang sarap… ganyan lang, please… lalabasan na ako—”

“labas mo lang, baby… bigay mo sakin yan,” he whispered harshly, burying himself even deeper. His pace was turning rough, desperate, losing all rhythm—just need. all-consuming, reckless need.

then came the words you didn’t mean to say—but couldn’t hold back.

“love you, kuya hee,” you breathed out, voice soft, eyes glassy.

he moaned, loudly this time, lips traveling from your neck back to your mouth, kissing you hard, messy, claiming you all over again. his breath tangled with yours, forehead pressing against your own.

these moments, mga sandali lang talaga na kayong dalawa ang mundo, it's so fleeting, so dangerous yet so goddamn addicting.

“love din kita, baby…” he whispered back, eyes closed as your pussy clenched again—tight, warm, like it was answering him without words.

"kuya hee!" your back arched, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you came hard, body trembling underneath him. heeseung held your legs tighter, fucking you through it, moaning softly as he felt the way you pulsed around him—clenching, unclenching, drawing every last drop of sensation.

napatingin siya sa ibaba.

his dick was coated in a tight, creamy white ring—your orgasm marking him.

and then your voice, soft and sinful, ghosted against his ear. "putok mo sa loob, kuya, it's my safe day."

heeseung entire body shuddered. “shit, baby…” he groaned louder, pulling you even closer kahit magkadikit na ang mga katawan niyo, desperate for more contact.

he whispered your name, again, and again, his voice cracking as his thrusts turned sloppy.

you whined as you felt him twitch inside you, then spurt his cum, filling you with every drop as his hips kept rolling, trying to ride out every last wave of his orgasm. his lips sought yours again, moaning into your mouth as he kissed you.

when both of your orgasms finally ended, neither of you moved.

heeseung didn’t pull away, hindi sa labi mo, at lalong hindi sa katawan mo, nanatili siyang nakabaon sa loob mo.

he kissed you through it all, it was slow, na parang nilalambing ka. and when he pulled away, he didn't stop there. he kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your jaw.

he pressed a warm kiss on your neck, right where your pulse still pounded. then another on your temple, before finally resting one on your forehead, his hand brushing back the sweat-damp hair sticking to your skin.

"ang ganda ng baby ko," malambing na sabi niya.

you closed your eyes, letting yourself breathe him in. ang pogi niya talaga, nakakainis.

“dito ka muna… please,” bulong mo, pouting, eyes pleading habang niyayakap siya ng mga hita mo, ayaw mo pang matapos.

heeseung sighed, his nose brushing softly against your cheek, still refusing to pull out. you felt his cock twitch inside you, already starting to harden again.

“hindi pa tapos, baby…” he murmured, lips curling into that familiar faint smile. “hanggang di pa sila umuuwi… akin ka muna.”

your stomach flipped. that familiar heat returned, curling deep between your thighs.

and just as he was about to roll his hips again, his phone buzzed from the nightstand.

[BEOMG] > bro, bili muna ako milk tea. gusto mo din?

heeseung chuckled, forehead resting against yours. “round two na, baby.”

then he moved, flipping you over, you were suddenly on all fours, arms barely holding you up.

his chest pressed against your back, his arms wrapping around you, one hand sliding up to grip your breast, the other around your waist, anchoring you.

he started to push in again, slow at first, then deeper—deeper—until he bottomed out, making you cry out.

“sarap?” he whispered against your cheek, lips brushing your skin while his cock drove into you again, his pelvis smacking your ass that the loud sound echoed in the room.

“yes po… sobrang sarap, kuya hee… sige pa,” you moaned, voice broken, strained, full of desperate pleasure.

your arms trembled, threatening to give out. heeseung felt it, and held you tighter, fucking you through it, helping you stay upright just enough for him to keep slamming into you from behind.

"you feel too fucking good," he groaned as his hips snapping harder.

he kissed your shoulder, your spine, your neck—soft kisses in contrast to the brutal pace of his thrusts.

he keeps fucking you until your body starts to tremble all over again. your hips writhe back against him on instinct, chasing every thrust, your walls fluttering around his thick length.

you were close. too close.

and when you finally came again, your whole body arched, legs shaking as your pussy clenched hard around him, milking him.

you didn’t even realize how loud you were—sobrang lakas ng ungol mo as you felt him spill inside you again, mainit, malapot, sobrang sarap.

your body jolted from the sensation, and that’s when heeseung quickly reached around, pressing his palm over your mouth, lips brushing your ear.

"shhhh, quiet lang," he whispered, voice breathless.

your moans were already muffled against his hand, your eyes rolling back, body collapsing under the overwhelming pleasure as he kept moving, riding the last waves of both your orgasms.

he kissed you again, whispering sweet words into your ear.

"galing mo, love."

another thing you loved about heeseung?

you didn’t even need to lift a finger. siya mismo ang maglilinis sa’yo—kahit sandali lang ang oras n’yong magkasama, hindi niya pinapalampas ang kahit isang haplos, isang lambing. he made every second feel like forever.

he gently wiped the mess between your thighs, making sure not to let the cold towel startle you. he kissed your lips again, barely a peck, then helped you into fresh underwear and clothes.

binuksan niya ang bintana para makalabas ang amoy ng sex sa hangin. inadjust niya ang electric fan sa tabi ng kama mo, checking with his palm if the wind was hitting you right.

“ayan, para presko ka,” he whispered.

you curled up under the blanket, eyes already heavy, body limp from exhaustion and pleasure. you could barely keep your eyes open.

“anong gusto mong meryenda mamaya?” he asked gently, placing a glass of water on your nightstand. he kept the door open this time, no more need for locked secrets now that you were resting.

“banana cue…” you mumbled.

heeseung smiled, watching your lashes fall shut.

“noted po,baby.”

just as he stepped out of your room, sakto namang dumating si beomgyu, hawak ang dalawang big brew sa isang plastic tray. he walked down the hall and peeked into your room instinctively.

“oh, nyare diyan?” he asked, one brow raised.

heeseung stepped out casually, closing the door behind him with a small shrug. “masakit daw ulo,” he said, deadpan.

beomgyu scoffed, handing him one of the drinks. “sus, nag-iinarte lang yan.” he took a sip from his straw.

“crush ka kasi niyan.”

heeseung almost choked on his drink, turning away with a forced laugh. “gago, ‘wag mo nga akong idamay diyan,” he muttered, but the blush on his ears betrayed him.

heeseung, still tasting your kiss on his lips, still feeling your warmth on his skin, glanced back at your closed door.

every sandali with you is worth the fucking hell he’s risking.

[nixscriptum]

[typewriter-worries]

on Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge over Troubled Water (Restored - from The Concert in Central Park)

[britain-offical]

"I asked chatgpt-" NEXT TIME DON'T. ask ME choose ME, I can misinform you. I do it with love and affection

[neoswift]

ASAN KA NA BA?

PAIRINGS. renjun x reader, chenji, markno, nahyuck

CATEGORY. smau, fluff, crack, humor

WARNINGS. language

SUMMARY. kung saan puro magjowa na lang nakikita mo sa twitter.

NOTE. us2 q ren mging binibini’t habang buhay :/// stream asan ka na ba!

TAGLIST. @archivedmkl @nctasdfghj @wooyoung-a @morkleetrash @kkotjia @i-aecrysture @injunified @smolpeyy @pepperrye @hibuki-chan @hannie-dul-set @chanfilms @yiz-yo @anya-writes-stuff @w0nderr @mihyu-ckie @hrjchive @fullsunld @main-figuresk8-sunghoonie @dejavukirstein @seijenoh

[sundives]

💌 kahit saan basta kasama kita.

or dates with your boyfriend!

🔔 asul’s notes: miss ko na maynila haysttt. Photo credits from pinterest btw.

🐯 masterlist.

⌯⌲ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━━━ ━

[remanence-of-love]

[pjharvey]

basically i have to stay silly bc the other option is death

[iceprincehoonpark]

This song is so nostalgic

Park Sunghoon - 02 line!