CAT HAIR ON MY BLACK T-SHIRT ᠀୧ KWON OHYUL ───── synopsis : ohyul knew your love for cats but never expected to actually meet a family of cats when coming over your house — and who's surprised that all of them appear to love him just as much as you.
requested ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ masterlist 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ ohyul x f!reader — catlover!reader, established relationship, reader has three cats, fluff, drabble
ohyul knew about your obsession with cats ever since the start of your relationship. although he never made pure conversation about his thoughts on cats, he always stood by your side and listened to you yap his ears off simply about the cats that come to your porch everyday.
he watches the five minute vlogs of you playing with one of the cats outside, or the long video of you recording a cat eating from afar — he lets it happen — mainly just because he loves you. he stands by you with his hands in his pockets, watching you stare and bicker at the enclosed cats through the glass at the local pet store, talking to them like their literal babies.
he finds it cute after all. he buys you everything that is related to cats, just because of your love to cats, that he supports from the side. he never leaned towards them, claiming that they're boring, and repeat the same thing everyday; and that all they do is leave fur all over his black tshirts.
but he didn't know what to expect when he was finally allowed to come over to your house this time — despite being together for so long.
during your late teenage years, you blamed it on your parents for being too strict. then when you moved out, you blamed it on the messiness of the whole apartment, though he knows how much of a clean freak you are. it was just all excuses. just for him to not find out the cat overload that happened to be in your house.
you shut the door of your bedroom, watching the way two of your cats were deep asleep on your bed, perfect timing for his visit. the other one was no were to be found, but it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.
as soon as he stepped foot into your apartment, his eyes immediately glued onto the food bowls that were right beside the counter, glancing up at you in confusion. you tilted a smile, forming it into a semi - genuine laugh — a laugh that you tried to play off the fact that there was food bowls right in front of him.
"got a cat didn't you?" he teased, walking up towards you to embrace you. your smile continued as you shook your head, "no, that's just decoration you know."
"you know i wouldn't be shocked, but—" he stopped his trail of words as his eyebrows furrowed, looking past your shoulder. your eyes trailed behind, and of course you find the missing cat finding its way towards the both of you slowly, trying to figure out ohyul.
"you got a cat..." he whispered, leaning down as he tried to get a better glance at the cat. you expected for it to run away, but instead it rushed over to ohyuls extended arm, head butting his hand. he let out a shock sound, "this is fire."
you took a step back, leaning onto the counter as you watched the encounter. you looked towards your bedroom door multiple times, deciding whether or not to let out the other two but you only knew chaos would happen from there.
once ohyul sat himself on the couch, the cat followed him, jumping onto the cushions just to smell his pants for the thousandth time like it wasn't just giving love to ohyuls massage a minute ago. you played it off saying that you were going to grab a sweater, but as soon as you opened the door — the cats that were deep slumber an hour ago, rushed out your room as the door opened, probably invested in all the russle that was made throughout the house.
the cat perked up from ohyuls lap, sensing the invitation of its other friends, as it also got ohyuls attention. the cats curiosity made him look over at the new chaos, his eyes sparking as he looked over at you walking carefully back into the living area.
"you had two more cats and you never told me?" he said with intention of bretaryl in his voice. he leaned over, reaching his hand out to the others without making the already settled one on his lap getting away. and to no shock, the cat stayed — but also the other two made their own way to his hand, head butting just like what happened first.
"these cats are awesome." you swore you saw the biggest smile on his face the whole time as his eyes glew with admiration, watching the cats get along with him so well, almost sensing an awe in him that he never knew he had.
you finally moved from your spot, walking towards the newly formed group, as you took a seat besides ohyul. after the movement, the other two jumped besides you, but instead of showing affection towards you, they walked across your lap just to smell ohyul and head butt him like he was the one who was feeding him everyday.
his lap became bamboarded with cats, yet they weren't even overstimulated. in fact you were, and they weren't even the ones showing you love. though you couldn't help but smile brightly at the scene, staring up at ohyul as you watched his face brighten.
"i'm taking them home." he muttered, finally looking at you. he felt like a child, and you felt like you were just experiencing his childhood. his smile never broke away from his face, and the glow in his eyes never left. everytime they would show him affection, his eyes darted to you, amusement written all over his face.
"you're like a baby," you laughed, leaning your head on his shoulders.
you watched the way he randomly stood up in place admiring the cats. "these are my babies." he looked behind him as the trio made their way behind him. he claimed he was going to get a drink, standing up — but in reality he was just experimenting something.
"i'm gonna go to the bathroom, you think they're gonna care?" he questioned as soon as he stepped foot into the kitchen, a new plan forming. "no they're cats." you shook your head.
he made his way to the bathroom a little faster so he can have time to shut the door without one of them entering. they stood there almost like shock was written all over them. their tails went down, looking in between you and the door, begging you to do something.
one of them began to scratch at the bottom of the door, too harshly. the other one started to meow lowly, and the third one, was just there. it laid beside the door like it was being patient with ohyul, the love was there but ohyul had business to do.
but after the first few meows and the intensity of the scratching, the door flung open, "i couldn't take it anymore." he sighed, making his way towards you back onto the couch, plopping himself down.
you giggled, "you don't even know their names and yet they love you more than me."
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Nepo baby! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - dear god lol - first time blow jobs, threesome (m/f/m) eifel tower, possessive Sukuna, desperate and pathetic Satoru, swallowing, oral (f and m receiving) p in v sex, degradation, praise, (they love to make reader cry and ruin her pussy tbh) cumplay, rough sex, choking, angst, basically the messiest chap EVER and this one leans towards Satoru (Sukuna's was last chap lol) - 12.1k (god lol)
As always this will have 3 endings - i'll repeat again if anyone reads authors notes - three endings! One Poly, One Gojo, One Sukuna. Poly end will be first.
<<<part five - masterlist - playlist - part seven
part six
𝕾𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆
“Then open that pretty mouth.”
You obediently do just that – open your mouth for him, as his mind rushes and whirls with thoughts – you clearly have feelings for that fuck, and he won’t fault you for it, he wants all of you. Even the part that cares for a dumb, gaslighting little white haired fuck who just looked at you like he couldn’t imagine anything better than drinking Sukuna’s cum from your pussy.
His hands entangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, you damn near have cute little hearts in your eyes when he takes his tip, smearing a bead of precum right along your lips like a gloss. He exhales and then lets the heavy weight of his reddened tip glide on your tongue, the taste making you swallow and moan around him.
“Take as much as you can, pretty lil brat,” he whispers, moaning when you start bobbing up and down his veiny length, you’re so damn pretty like this, obedient like always, your nails pressing into his thighs. “Sucking me first, hmm? Me?”
“Mmm,” your answer is a soft moan that makes your throat flutter around him, tears pricking your pretty eyes and glimmering off your cheeks, sniffling as he keeps fucking into your throat deeper. “Mhmm…”
“That’s it, fuckin’ so proud of you,” he can tell you’re dying over the praise – you deserve that and more. “Always listenin’ s’fuckin’ well. Hah – there you go, just like that… fuck…”
You try to take more of him, your enthusiasm outpacing your skill, and you gag around him, throat constricting, your eyes watering instantly. A thick, messy string of drool slips from the corner of your mouth, dripping down onto his veiny shaft, even onto your little hand where it rests on his thigh.
You pull back and start coughing, your face flushed so cute, he can see you’re embarrassed, chuckling softly at you. “I’m sorry… I um…”
“You were taking too much too fast,” you blush so hot he feels it burning when he touches your cheek, you kiss his tip, a thick string of saliva connecting your swollen, glistening lips to his reddened tip. “You need to breathe through your nose and ease into it, my cock isn’t fucking going anywhere.”
“It’s not?” You tease, lips twitching at the corners, Sukuna loves the fact that you’re in here with him, he knows Satoru was trying and that you let him taste you, but you’re here.
On your knees.
Obediently waiting for his directions, for him to show you everything – no matter what fuck ass direction things go with Satoru and you – whatever weird throuple shit he may have to endure? He eats up the fact that you’re his, that he took you first, your mouth, your pretty cunt, fuck he was your first real kiss and not for show.
Possessive and sick, fucking depraved is how you make him – so depraved he’ll do anything to make sure you stay his. You belong to Sukuna as much as he does to you.
“Try to take more,” he leans forward now, adjusting his cock so it glides up in your throat easier, sucking in a breath as the wet, slutty sounds fill your room. “That’s it, mouth wrappin’ me, throat that tight? Fuck – m’gonna stretch it out, have him hear how badly I ruin it. So loud and slutty.”
You’re whining out at his toxic words, you – as pretty, sweet, and innocent as you are – are toxic too. He senses it in how you respond, in how you whine out when Sukuna holds you there, buried to the hilt, your nose pressed against the coarse pink hair at his base. He groans and keeps you there, brushing your hair back as you drool, throat quivering.
“You can take me brat,” he whispers softly, pulling back and letting that precum dance on your uvula as he moves. “Want me to use your throat, huh? Just like this?”
You sniffle and nod, just a beautiful, ruined, tear streaked mess, your lips are so swollen and bruised when you pull back and he lets you get a breath, just to suck him down obediently, letting him choke you with his length. Your pretty, lidded eyes are all glassy, that saliva slipping down your chin.
You’ve never even looked more beautiful, never been more his than on your knees, swallowing every fucking drop he pumps inside your throat, greedy and eager to please, your nails pressing hard into his thighs, digging in and making him suck in a breath, cock throbbing now.
“F-fuck… that’s it, greedy lil girl aren’t you?” You pull back with a messy pop, tongue lapping the undervein that wraps his thick cock. “You’re slutty for me… Love my cock ruining your throat?”
“I do,” your voice is weak and shaky, shifting on your thighs.
“Touch that pretty lil cunt while you take me, while you swallow me,” you reach down and blush, he laughs softly, cupping your face. “I want you to cum, wanna feel you scream around my cock, can you baby? Be good f’me?”
You nod quickly. “Y-yes, Kuna. Wanna be good for you.”
You swallow him so good, you drink every bit down, opening your mouth for his spit to join it, taking his greedy fucking kisses.
Once Sukuna has you in your bed all tucked in and tugged against him, he can’t help but let his mind race, to observe your pretty face quietly.
He can’t help but wonder just what was going on in your head.
“What is it, Kuna?” You murmur, voice all rough from where he’d fucked your throat.
“Just wondering if I should go ahead and fuck your ass,” you gasp and he smirks. “I can’t have him getting any hole first.”
“You’re toxic!” You shove him playfully but he cups your face, looking right into your eyes, making you pause, your lips parted. “Kuna?”
“I won’t let you fucking go,” his voice is harsher than he means, his grip on your face is too tight, you’re trembling. “You’re mine, all mine, fuckin’ need you, okay?”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving you at all,” you lean up, frowning now, kissing his lips softly. “I need you.”
“Do you need me, baby?” He whispers, you nod quickly, eyes slipping tears. “If you fuck that dumb white haired shit, would you tell him I hit it better?”
“Kuna!”
“Tell him he can’t make you cum, too,” you snort and roll your eyes.
“You’re insane.”
“Don’t fuck him till he stops bringing those sluts near you,” you nod and snuggle against him. “I’m serious.”
“You assume I’ll fuck Gojo.”
“It’s obvious he’ll beg enough, but I want you to remember who split you open on their cock first,” he whispers, watching your eyes go dazed. “Yeah?”
“Yes, Kuna.”
He knows you’ll let him in, but Sukuna sure the fuck was gonna make sure that dumb fuck didn’t hurt you, and that he was in control. He can’t not have you – all of you – and if he has to share, Gojo needs to learn that you’re his first.
****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Satoru can’t stand the fact that you look so goddamn happy when you go off in the morning to box with Sukuna, how you get all peppy and do your hair, getting ready to go meet him. You’re making breakfast when he gets up the next morning and walks over by you, remembering the taste of your cunt on his goddamn lips – the way he desperately licked your thighs.
You were ruining him just existing, and now you couldn’t be his – just his – if that really was what he wanted. Was it?
Did he want to pump you full of his cum, have his babies, all those Gojo heirs his parents had pushed on him but instead of the perfect kids, they’d help take down shit parents like yours and his. The mix of your sweetness and Satoru's ruthless nature, kids of his own he could raise and try not to fuck up anywhere close to what your parents and his had done.
What a fucking insane dream, before he knew it your hips would widen – those hips that just beg for his hands, breedable ones he can’t stop imagining, he’d seen your pretty cunt, your tits, but imagine you folded in half? He’s sure it’s how Sukuna had you, part of him wants to see it – this sadistic goddamn part of him that he can’t explain away with any reason.
Satoru Gojo wishes he never pushed you away, he wishes he gave whatever the fuck this is some chance rather than shoving you into Sukuna’s arms, willing to get little crumbs and pieces of you at best. You shouldn’t even have let him taste you, shouldn’t have let him near you – yet you did.
Sukuna did.
What was his motivation, some fucking control, some way to torture Satoru? Did he think Satoru wouldn’t try to make you his if he got the chance to, that he wouldn’t sink to his knees if you just commanded him to? For as sweet and precious as you are, you have Sukuna Ryomen ready to do anything for you – including beating your parents and letting Satoru himself touch you.
He sees why, when it would merely take a few words and he’d do anything you asked, too, your tentative smile all shy and sweet like you weren’t wrecking his mind, like you didn’t have his dick utterly broken. He can’t even think of another woman without disgust now, and it’s all your fault.
“Good morning,” you say softly, tentative as if you’re not sure when or if he’ll snap, say something mean as fuck to you.
Of course you think he would.
“Yeah,” he can’t even say good morning to you, not when he heard slurping noises coming from your room last night, gagging and choking, and your lips are fucking swollen today. He walks behind you, making you tremble just a bit, an arm on either side of the counter. “Where’s your lover?”
“He’s at the gym,” you barely manage to speak, clearing your throat. “Where’s Jennifer? Chloe?”
“Fuck if I care or know,” you turn to him now, a little bit of batter on the corner of your lip, he swipes at it, pressing it between yours and watching as his thumb parts those lips. “Suck.”
You bite him.
“Fuck,” he laughs then as you glare, teeth indentations in his skin. “Guess that only works for Sukuna.”
“He always gives me a choice,” you blush furiously now. “Also… he only just let me do that.”
“Haven’t you two been fucking?”
“Yes,” you turn again, stirring the batter quickly, feeling his breath against your neck. “My lip was busted and he was worried. But also I never have… so… my only experience was watching you.”
Satoru pauses.
“Watching me?”
“Well not spying but I saw Chloe on her knees when you didn’t shut the door all the way, and that random girl you brought… they both did,” you clear your throat, Satoru’s heart sinks. “I um… wanted to try something that made him feel good like that I guess.”
“Ah,” how does he respond? When the pain is written on your face as he steps to the side and looks at you, when your lip is trembling. “You were curious, hmm?”
“How to please you at first? Yes,” you start pouring the batter into the muffin tins, clearing your throat. “I thought very foolishly that you’d eventually want me that first month, that you’d just let me try and I’d be able to make you like it.”
He can’t speak again.
“It was stupid,” you sigh and lean over to set the timer, placing the pan in the oven and letting it whir. “I was stupid then, so fucking stupid.”
“You weren’t –”
“On that you were correct,” you shut the door and look at him, the oven rushing warmth and making your cheeks flush. “That I was so pathetic I’d have dropped to my knees for you.”
Satoru Gojo hates himself.
*****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
He says nothing as you start heating up butter for the eggs in the pretty diamond coated pan – Satoru was nothing if not great for the finest items in the kitchen, the finest of everything. He studies you in a way that makes his blue eyes feel like a physical touch, making you remember his desperation last night, making you remember so much about it.
You’re utterly confused.
“It wasn’t pathetic,” you scoff then, looking at him in shock, he curses and shuts his eyes, hand rushing through his white locks. “Wanting to please your husband was what you were raised for, and it was all you really knew.”
“You think that was all of it?” You hardly hold your emotions back, but he looks at you in this way that destroys your soul. “You think I didn’t have feelings long before we got married?”
“How could you? You didn’t know me.”
“I knew of you, I saw you – so sweet I thought,” you laugh without humor, stirring the eggs up and trying to keep your composure. “I always thought you’d rescue me from them, that you’d show me love, that I could give you your heirs. And make you so happy you wouldn’t regret me.”
He’s quiet.
You’re quiet, but he studies you carefully, with aching reverence as you busy yourself more. “I was stupid.”
Satoru shuts his eyes, before he tugs you to him, cupping your face and trying to ruin you, his eyes glittering with emotion. “You weren’t stupid, you just didn’t know what a disappointment I would become.”
You can’t speak, you can’t say anything, heart hammering in your chest as he leans low, pressing a kiss on your brow that has no right being comforting, sighing and then stepping back, his hands shaking.
“You shouldn’t do that…” He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound, hands finally falling from your face.
“I could suck you off my fingers but not kiss your forehead?”
“It hurts more,” you admit, shutting your eyes, he sighs quietly.
“You’re going to train?”
“I am,” you murmur softly, looking back at him finally. “You’re going to work?”
“Yeah…”
Satoru walks away without another word.
*****
You bring the muffins and breakfast in a little warmer for Yuuji and Sukuna. The gym has started to feel like a little sanctuary, especially with the lingering confusion of Satoru Gojo. Sukuna is punching the bag and Yuuji is stretching, looking like a young carbon copy of his uncle, waving at you all bright and chipper as Sukuna just smirks at you.
“Good morning!” You smile and walk over, holding up the little lunchboxes now. “Ooh, for me?”
“Mhm! I made plenty too,” you look at Sukuna and grin. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” the way he says it makes your core tighten, he knows what he does with his words, when the three of you go over and sit, eating in Sukuna’s little office. “Fuck, you cook this good?”
“I love to bake,” Yuuji is on his third muffin, moaning.
“I love you. I mean!?”
“I’ll kick you through a wall, brat,” Sukuna glares and Yuuji looks frightened, you’re just giggling, handing him a little thermos.
“I made coffee too.”
“Oh it’s so sweet!” He’s happily sipping, before looking at you carefully, something feels so perfect about sitting here with both of them, even if you’re constantly being pulled in another direction.
Is this what it feels like to be split in half?
“Are you still hurt?” Yuuji breaks your heart, you shake your head and touch his shoulder.
“I’m okay, I promise!” He sighs and then peers over at Sukuna, clearing his throat.
“I’m going to clean up a bit, I have a class to get to.”
“Go ahead kid.”
“Thanks again,” he smacks a little kiss on your head, making you smile with affection, Sukuna carefully studying you, his expression unreadable as he leans back in his seat, raising a brow.
“Kuna? What is it? You’re quiet.”
“Did he eat these fucking muffins?” You snort in laughter, shaking your head and walking over, sitting on his thigh and letting him roughly tug you against him on his lap. “I’m serious.”
“No muffins for him, silly man,” Sukuna shoves one at you. “Not a single one actually.”
“You need to eat, I don’t like that you lost weight when you’re needing to gain muscle and train,” you flush at just how much he cares, snuggling closer and taking the muffin in your hand, biting it. “You haven’t been eating for shit.”
“It’s because I’m a little stressed,” his lips quirk up, his hand brushing against your thigh, making you wince. “Ah…”
“And stiff. Do I need to come over and massage you tomorrow night?”
“You could,” he sighs, swiping a little blueberry off your lips, humming to himself. “Are you doing a match tonight?”
“Yeah but if you need me…”
“Gojo isn’t going to bother me.”
“Mhm.” He’s glaring as you take another bite. “He doesn’t give a fuck if you eat or not, and I have to worry because you’re not living with me.”
You blink at that, his big arm wrapped tightly around you, you thoughtfully chew the muffin, his eyes unreadable. “Would you want me to live with you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” You blush now, he chuckles a bit. “Don’t blush when I say I’ll fuck your ass, but you blush about that?”
“Hush!” He’s breaking out in a laugh that pisses you off, you shove off him and he tugs you back, kissing you mean and brutal, the way that steals your breath.
“Thanks for breakfast, brat,” he murmurs softly. “I’ll be over to give you that massage tomorrow night. Yeah?”
You bite down on your lower lip, nodding. “Yeah.”
****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
He supposes now is his payback for the two months he’s spent fucking girls in your house and having you listen – to have Sukuna come over as if this goddamn place is his too, and look at your pretty face brighten up. Your eyes are all dazed like he’s got you hypnotized, your giggles louder once he’s apparently ‘massaging your sore muscles’.
Sure, that absolutely sounds like you’re getting ‘massaged’ – the squelching of your loud little cunt, the soft whines and sounds of skin smacking, to the point he’s dripping precum from his tip. He rushes over and opens the door, scowling at the both of you, before pausing, the sight of you like that ruining him.
“Do you all have to be so fucking loud?”
It sounds ludicrous to his own ears as he stands there, Sukuna’s got you bent over, cock buried deep, your tits are slipped out of that sweater, the big loose one he has tugged down, when your eyes lock with his. He hates that his cock is aching, hates another man’s hands on what’s all his, the way you look up at him somehow innocent and sweet even while you’re actively getting split open.
Sukuna pauses his strokes, pulling you up on your knees, taunting Satoru with the image when he slowly pulls that sweater up and off you. He can see the bulge of his cock in your tummy, something he wanted for himself, something he was dying to have when he took you the first time.
Now, who knows how many times you’ve been fucked by Sukuna?
You look back at Sukuna for just a moment, your expression entirely unreadable, he wraps a huge tattooed arm around your body, kissing you possessive, before he eyes Satoru. His brows lower and his smirk shows, slamming up into you again, your tits bounce with the movement, further making Satoru ache.
“Gonna stand there and watch?” He says then, Satoru scoffs, looking away now. “Didn’t you make her watch?”
“Yeah,” he supposes he put you through this too, but the difference was your goddamn eyes, and the way you roll your hips now just so. “I did.”
“Bet you’re gonna jerk it to this, huh?” Sukuna makes Satoru wanna kill him, cut his arms off that are wrapping yours. “Jerk it to her all the time don’t you?”
“Tch, can you two just…”
“Come on then,” Sukuna brushes a hand down your back, pushing you on all fours. “You don’t deserve it though.”
“Deserve…” He sees your hands clutching the blanket, your lips parted, he walks over tentatively, Sukuna’s eased his movements, far too familiar with your body already. Satoru stands in front of you and your hand slips up his cock over his pants, making him suck in a breath. “You’re this slutty already?”
“Only I call her that,” Sukuna murmurs, Satoru quickly tilts your chin back up, staring at the girl he knows he fucked up with, knowing he doesn’t deserve a touch from you.
“What do you want?” He asks for the first time ever, you pause and blink just a bit, sighing as Sukuna slowly fills you up.
“I don’t know,” you admit softly. “Just to… forget. To… not think.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out ever so softly, undoing his belt, his cock is dripping pre right on your blanket. You whine out, this sound he can’t get out of his fucking mind, a hand brushing your hair back and holding it. “I don’t want to think either.”
“Say please, because she’s doing you a favor,” Satoru scowls right at the giant pink haired man in his wife, but then falters as he sees your eyes.
“Please, suck me… if you want - ah,” your tongue laps at his tip, his grip tightens hard in your hair, as your mouth wraps him, and fuck he could almost bust from just that. He’s whimpering from one little suck and a kitten flick of your tongue, as you’re forced to take him deeper, Sukuna’s thrusts jolting your body. “Fuck… feels s’good I just…”
“Should thank me, I taught her,” Satoru wants to kill Sukuna, but he also wants to fuck your throat until it’s stretched out, till it burns and you think of him, he wants to look into your pretty eyes and imagine you’re only his, that he didn’t ruin it all. Instead, he’ll take anything from you, anything at all. “Praise her, don’t just fuckin’ stand there, she deserves it.”
You moan around his length, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers dig into your hips, pressing in the flesh there, and then you look up at him all cross eyes, his pink tip against your uvula. “You’re doing such a good job.”
You suck him deeper and whine around him, he wishes you didn’t know how, that he was the one to show it to you, but he fucking knows that’s insanity. He knows he had the chance and actively shoved you off, turned you down every moment you tried, and that he doesn’t in any way deserve to have you choking on him, your soft little moan echoing in his ears as his own mixes with your sweet sounds.
Even sucking cock and getting fucked you somehow are sweet, cute, the way your nails press into his thighs and your lashes flutter – how is someone this pretty mid blow job? Satoru has shared women with his best friend, he’s not new to it, but he’s never been fucking furious that another man existed, that he was getting to feel your surely pretty cunt wrap him.
Satoru is so lost in your eyes he hardly notices the giant man he hates easing into your cunt, he doesn’t fuck you hard, it seems more intimate than that, the way his hand slips down the curve of your spine. Your moan around Satoru’s length, eyes damn near unreadable when he brushes your hair back, going to pull it and then stopping himself.
“Do you want me to pull your hair?” You pause and pull back, saliva dripping down your lips in a thick string, connected to his tip, Sukuna’s hands tighten their grip on your hips visibly dimpling your flesh.
“You can, I like it,” he wishes you didn’t know that you did, but he’s too needy and aching too much to say anything.
Does he have a right to wish that?
He’s had how many girls suck his cock since you all ‘got married’?
At least three women, so what if you got with Sukuna, he gets it. Deep down he doesn’t even fucking resent you for it, he deserves much worse for all the terrible things he put you through – but there’s another part of him that’s feral, that’s tugging your hair and fucking into your throat, wanting it to have his shape.
He wants you to know him, have his cum pouring inside you, but for the moment he’s sucking in a breath, fucking into your tight little throat now, tugging your hair back.
“Fuck you’re doing s’good,” you whine out, he takes one of your hands, sucking your little fingers in his mouth, shoving his cock deeper and feeling you drool. “So good. fuck…”
“She is,” Sukuna murmurs roughly, fucking into your cunt with the loudest noises. “That praise has you soaked, brat, is he finally doin’ something right?”
“Fuck off, Sukuna.” Satoru moans out though, you’re taking him fully, to where your nose is flush in his white nestle of hair, choking on him so your throat constricts. “Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”
“Mmm,” you let him fuck your throat now, clinging to his wrists, letting him rock his cock faster, the sounds filthy, along with the slams of your cunt from Sukuna. You’re swallowing around him, ass arching back for more.
“Gonna cum around my cock, milk me?” Your little hum is your answer, but when your eyes lock with Satoru’s?
Satoru can’t handle the way that look fucking ruins him – how he’d do anything to keep it in his brain forever, that look of devotion he wasted mixed with this look of fucked out pleasure. He doesn’t think anything will ever hit him like your eyes, his cock twitching inside your throat in response.
“Go ahead and cum,” Satoru whispers, brushing your cheek with a finger as he pulls back and eases his cock back in your throat. “Let me see you.”
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
You shatter with one more stroke of Sukuna’s cock in your snug, messy cunt, Satoru’s eerie blue eyes looking down at you with something akin to reverence, something you wonder must be your imagination. Yet his eyes, his cock choking you out mixed with Sukuna’s thick cock wrecking your hole sends you over the edge, you feel Sukuna grip your hips, Satoru cupping your face.
A girl who just a week ago was a virgin now has two nine inch cocks inside her – Sukuna’s buried to the hilt, a thumb pressed in your other hole, Satoru Gojo with his pretty pink tip buried in the back of your throat. You’re moaning around it when Sukuna angles his hips and has your cunt gushing, squirting down his thick, veiny length and dripping down his heavy balls, full of cum.
Pleasure has you dizzy, almost falling if Satoru and Sukuna didn’t hold you up, your hands clinging to Satoru’s dress shirt, trembling and quivering around Sukuna as your orgasm ruins you. Have you ever cum this hard before, you can’t say you have, there was nothing like having blue eyes on your face, and red eyes boring holes into your skin.
“Look how much you came, messy, slutty girl,” Sukuna cooes like a sweet name, for Sukuna he did mean it that way, scooping up some of that slick now, leaning forward to press his cock impossibly deep. “Squirting for us again.”
Satoru exhales, pulling back and twitching hot and heavy against your mouth, his voice breathy. “So p-pretty when you cum.”
Your tummy clenches, already weak from the pleasure Sukuna has brought you, with the added insanity of the man who ‘hates you’ and ‘doesn’t want you’ whimpering as you suck him. Satoru eases back now, tip glossing your lips with his salty pre, your tongue laps it up eagerly, feeling Sukuna’s own spurting light little trails against your puffy cervix.
“Where do you want this,” he asks softly. “I’m close.”
“She’s that good,” you look back at Sukuna, biting your lip, his red eyes are dark, his thrust possessive, as if to remind you that you’re his. You push back on him, earning his eyes rolling back. “Fuck, backing it up on me? Learn so well…”
Satoru tilts your chin back to look at him, cock twitching and leaking white trails of his seed down in rivulets. “You pick where, I’ll cum in my hand if you want, or anywhere on your body.”
“My mouth,” he shuts his eyes and exhales, Sukuna chuckles just a bit, pressing that thumb in your other hole deeper, making you suck in a breath. “Mnh! W-want you both to finish inside.”
“That’s my pretty little brat,” Sukuna leans over you, tilting your chin to kiss you all messy, tugging at your hair, before murmuring in your ear. “I’ll fill you up, fuck all that cum back inside, all you want.”
“Please,” you’re trembling now, lost in how good you feel – you can’t think about anything else, just how good he feels, Satoru’s stroking his cock and you can’t help but bite your lip then. How would he feel inside you?
Should you feel terrible wondering?
“Swallow all of it, like a good girl,” Satoru’s words fuck you up, Sukuna surely feels you clenching around him, pushing him to get closer with every quiver. “Fuck I mean… Please?”
“Mhm,” you open your mouth and he spits right in it first, the action filthy, his eyes damn near going cross as he slips his cock back inside, and Sukuna drags your ass back to slam your cervix. “Mnph!”
“Takin’ both of us so well,” Sukuna’s praise is rough, it’s sensual, the way he controls your body, while Satoru’s strokes are easier, tentative.
“So well,” Satoru agrees softly – praise, from him? You never thought you’d see that, have that, it almost feels like there is no reality where it exists. “Can you swallow all of me?”
He pulls back again, letting you speak. “Mmhmm.”
Satoru’s cock is back dragging heavy on your tongue, the soft tip gliding against the roof of your mouth as Sukuna twitches inside you, you’re moaning and making Satoru more sensitive, eyes rolling back when Sukuna slams against your cervix so hard it hurts. You cum again, sending Sukuna and Satoru right with you, one flooding your throat, the other your messy cunt.
You’re so full of them you can hardly think, swallowing somehow sweet cum, as so much floods your hole, Sukuna’s other finger easing out of your ass with a pop, his cock gliding in and out and pushing into your cunt. “Fuck… takin’ it like that, such a good girl…”
“F-fuck…” Satoru’s stuttering, his hips bucking as you drain him, glides his cock right down your snug throat and feels it contracting, you suck every drop down eagerly. When he pulls back he exhales, kneeling and kissing your lips.
Satoru’s kissing you.
Sukuna eases out with a wet, messy pop, gliding two fingers in the creamy mess he made and pulling you back, slipping his own release in your mouth. You suck them eagerly while Satoru kisses down your neck, exhaling and whispering your name in your ear, Sukuna does the same while you suck his fingers, glossy against those rough, calloused knuckles.
Your eyes meet Satoru’s carefully, still trembling and kneeling, his hands glide across your breasts almost worshipful with his movements, thumbs brushing against your nipples. You feel split into two pieces then – no you haven’t forgotten what he’s done, you don’t pretend to know who he is, but for a moment you see it – what could have been, what you could have felt.
It hurts more knowing there was something there.
Sukuna’s fingers leave your lips, now you have both men in your mouth, on your tastebuds – overwhelming you. You swallow nervously as Satoru kisses across your collarbones, one of your hands tentatively brushes his hair back, the other reaching back for Sukuna’s sure grip, feeling it wrap around your wrist.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she,” Sukuna says lovingly, even as he’s gruff, kissing across the back of your shoulders where you’re slick with sweat. “Too good for you.”
“She’s too good for you,” Satoru says, Sukuna raises a brow then smirks.
“Yeah, she is.” You go to protest when he nips your shoulder, your thighs and arms are trembling, his lips on your ear. “You’re all mine, even if I let you have him too. Mine, just mine, had you first, didn’t I? Came inside, I’ll fucking keep cummin’ inside you too.”
“Sukuna…” You trail off softly, sometimes his ruby eyes are insane, like right now, his huge hand cupping your face.
“You don’t get to fuck those other girls then come here and use her,” Satoru scoffs at that. “I’m serious, I won’t have her getting something off your slutty secretary.”
“I use condoms,” he admits quietly, looking at you now. “You certainly don’t – slutty don’t ya think?”
Why does the way he says that fucking ruin you?
“Why would I use a condom when I can cum inside her?” Sukuna chuckles, the two men silently scowling at each other. “Besides, it’s only her I’m with.”
Only you.
It screams the truth – that Satoru was up until the other day still actively fucking other women, and now you are with Sukuna, but Sukuna just gave you the opportunity to suck Satoru, he shared you even though he’d not have anyone. It means a lot to a girl who’s wracked with insecurities, leaving you to look at Satoru curiously.
“I’ll give you a moment, but just one.” He smacks your ass and grips either side, nuzzling your neck. “If you want one.”
You nod shyly, turning to kiss him, tasting his cum right off his mouth, easing to kneel and feeling how sore you are. “Yes if you’re okay with it, Kuna.”
“Yeah well, let’s see if his dumb ass stops inviting messy sluts over,” you expect Satoru to lose his shit about that statement – but instead his gaze is fixed on you, and you can’t read those goddamn eyes.
Who even is your husband?
Sukuna walks around blatantly naked when he shuts the door, Satoru helps you up, heat rises in your cheeks when his eyes see the creamy mess of your pussy, you see his cock is already hard again, twitching with his tip so pink it’s almost red. Satoru sits on the bed then, hand brushing across your face, eyes completely unreadable when they study you.
“You can still be with who you want,” you whisper softly, sighing now.
“Who I want, hah,” he laughs without humor, confusing you more than ever. “You think I want them?”
“Well, yes? Sukuna just gets…”
“Psychotic and possessive?”
“Yeah,” you blush even more now. “It makes me feel really special. I guess that wouldn’t make sense to you.”
“No it…” He sighs and looks back down, hand slipping across your tummy, it trembles underneath his touch, the sticky mess coating your inner thighs. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“I feel fucked for wanting it,” you admit, blinking rapidly as he studies you, tilting his head. “It doesn’t change what’s happened, or everything you did. I want Sukuna, and… I want…”
“Me?” He finishes softly. You look away again as his fingers brush the sticky mess of your cunt. “Hah, another man’s cum inside my wife.”
“Temporary wife,” you correct softly, before you cry out, his fingers grazing your clit, making your eyes jump up. “Remember?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, finding your clit with ease and rubbing, spreading Sukuna’s cum so that it’s sticky, staring right into your eyes as he runs circles, your own eyes flutter shut. “Look at me.”
“Why?” He uses his free hand to tilt your chin up.
“I wanna see if it’s different when you cum for me,” he whispers, earning your look of shock.
“Why would you care, wasn’t it just fun?”
“Fun,” he laughs without humor, slipping two fingers in your sore cunt now, you suck in a breath at the sensation, as Satoru peers down at the mess you’re making, white and gossamer just gushing down. “Fuck you’re so tight… pretty, beat up cunt, look at you, shit…”
He’s shoving them deeper, tugging at your hair now, rocking them up and down. “Gojo…”
“Satoru, fuck please,” he’s desperate now, lips parted, hovering over you and pressing your back into the bed. “Got me so pathetic I’m fingering Sukuna’s cum inside you, at least call me Satoru.”
You swallow, unable to speak or think, it was one thing to suck him – another for him to rock his fingers inside, looking at you with insane, desperate eyes. You swallow nervously, Sukuna had let you have Satoru but what does this mean? You easily fuck Sukuna alone, and Satoru is your husband, but it feels so different with him, when he kisses your lips.
“Bet you'd feel so perfect wrapped around me,” his voice is hoarse, toxic, laughing as his fingers rock up and down, faster and faster, making you dizzy, lashes fluttering. “Wish I could have broke it, fuck wish it was all me. Now look, your cunt is a mess, stretched out, ruining these sheets.”
Every word fucks you up more, his kisses bruising, teeth clicking it’s desperate, a hand tugging your hair.
“Can taste myself,” he hums, tongue swirling, hitting this spot that makes you hiss, clinging to him, pussy drooling. “I'd fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk. Fuck every thought out of your head till you're dumb. God the things I'd do to you.”
“Gojo you're so – ah!” His eyes go dark, feral grin on his face – the man that didn't want this now desperate, insane, obsessed, making your cunt squelch so loud it's obscene.
“Just lemme feel it grip me,” he sighs now. Cock leaking pre all over again. Moaning when you tense up, teeth sinking on your lip, his long fingers pressing against your cervix. “Cum for me, just once for me.”
He curves them deep again, you let out a moan that’s embarrassing how loud it is, fingers fucking you faster and faster, heel of his hand grinding right on your clit, watching you shatter for him. You’re twitching, squirting down his hand, he moans at the sight of it, studying you with dark eyes so unreadable, pulling those fingers out to run up your slit.
“You do look different,” he whispers, rubbing all that mess and shoving his fingers in your mouth like Sukuna did, you wrap your lips around them obediently, his own part at the sight. “Fuck…”
“Hmm? Mnh!” Satoru’s kissing you again, drinking your cries up, thumb pressing your clit in circles. “Sensitive!”
“God I could watch you cum all day,” he whispers, you shake your head, tears suddenly hitting your eyes when he looks at you, pausing. “So fucking pretty…”
“You’re so fucking confusing, Satoru Gojo…” He sighs, resting his forehead on yours, fingers entwining in your hair and tugging.
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs and pulls back a bit when Sukuna walks back inside, crossing his arms in the doorway. “Lemme guess, my time is up with my wife?”
“Yep.”
“I’m not an object to give or receive,” you cut them off then, Sukuna smirks a bit at that.
“I like you standing up for yourself,” he comes over, tilting your chin up, thumb brushing across your jaw, studying your slick thighs and tensing a bit. “Did he at least make you cum, or is he shit at it?”
“He did,” you whisper, Sukuna hums and leans over you, cock already leaky and hard again, your hands grip his hair as you let him kiss you, he eyes Gojo over your head now.
“When will he beg for your forgiveness though?”
Satoru tenses as you pull back, looking down just a bit. “Kuna, I really want a shower. Can we take one?”
He cups your face and nods, picking you up and carrying you the way he does, leaving Satoru in the room. When he is running that water you hug his chest, letting his arms wrap around you tightly, the steam filling the bathroom.
“Why are you letting him… letting me…”
“Listen,” he tilts your chin up, your head falling back to look at him. “You haven't done shit before me, and you had feelings long before I met you. I'd rather you figure this out with me here to protect you.”
“Kuna,” you're in tears now, he shushes you and guides you to the shower, where the hot water beats down on you both. “I'm fine if it's only us. I am.”
“I know,” he tilts his head, hands coming to wrap your waist. “You were in love with him, and I'm brand new.”
“I didn't know him then, it was like some fairy tale to keep myself alive,” he frowns at that, ruby eyes narrowing. “I'm falling in love with you and it's really fucking scary.”
He says nothing and you immediately feel anxious, taking shaky breaths as he studies you. “And I am with you, all of you – including that sado masochistic part that likes that white haired fuck.”
You giggle then, shaking your head. “Sukuna!”
“You're mine, I'm your first,” he whispers possessively, turning you around so your ass presses against his thighs, kissing down the side of your neck. “First in your mouth, in your perfect cunt, had you bleeding all down me huh?”
“Insane,” his words ruin you, the heavy spray of the water beating down, his hands cupping your tits which are sensitive with your ovulation. “You are my first.”
“Remember that when he's inside you,” you blush at the thought, he runs a thumb across your nipple and bites your neck. “Mmm, I'll only share if he gets his shit together though, I swear to god if those secretaries come over again I'll make them cry.”
You giggle at that, grinning over your shoulder. “I feel so at home in your arms.”
He pauses now, sighing. “Yeah?”
“That and the boxing ring, it's the only place I've felt at home ever,” your lips tremble now. “If he's inside me, I would never forget where I feel at home.”
“Fuck, you ruin me every day,” he groans and kisses you roughly, desperate, needy kisses, before pulling back and laughing. “He really fingered my cum out of you?”
“You're so sadistic!”
“Should get him a fancy cuck chair.”
“A what!?”
“You're cute,” you have no clue what on Earth he's on about, his hand possessive on your tummy. “Imagine the Gojo heir with pink hair.”
Sukuna is truly batshit crazy.
*****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Satoru can’t stop picturing your mouth wrapped around his cock the next day, how could he have pushed it all away, let you fall in love with Sukuna all to ‘save you’ and ‘protect you’. Perhaps it was the best thing, to protect you and keep you away from himself, give you the choice to find love with someone who clearly is obsessed with you, who you moan for and look at with hearts in your eyes.
Yet how the fuck does he explain the look you gave him when you sucked him, when he fingered your lover’s cum right from that pretty cunt? The one he could have had first easily, but he was so set on making sure you had your choice – well you chose him until he made sure you ran off.
Perhaps Satoru didn’t account for how he’d feel, how when he looked down in your eyes and you whispered that you wanted babies he wanted to fucking give you them. He wanted to give you anything and everything just to forgive him and forget all the horrible fucking shit he did, the time he wasted on women not even close to your caliber.
The clock ticks on the wall with the little sounds echoing loudly, his fingers tapping on the cherry wood of his desk, unable to focus on anything without you running through his mind. Perhaps before he tasted you, before he had your throat swallowing and gagging around him, before he cupped your face and saw the pain he inflicted…
Perhaps then he could act unaffected, act as if any of this was acceptable or normal to him in any way. Satoru couldn’t help but think to himself how terribly he fucking treated you, and he’s never even apologized – sure, that night he did, after taking you away from your parents, but couldn’t he have done more? Couldn’t he have done what Sukuna did?
All this talk of being different, was Satoru different from his shitty father and what he did to his mother? Or did he turn into the very fucking thing he hated?
His door knocks, drawing his attention away. “Come in.”
You are opening the door with a box, his heart hammers in his chest, lips parted as you pause at the door, clearing your throat. It was normal for you to ‘show up’ for the aesthetics of a wife, but you usually just brought something now from take out, that looks like one of the damn boxes you made that he fucking made you cry over, with that note.
How much can a man loathe himself? Satrou asks himself that as you hesitate and don’t walk in fully, a flush on your cheeks. “Is it okay if I…”
“Yeah,” he breathes out the words and stands, you shut the door behind yourself with a click and walk over to him, hands trembling when you hand him the little box. “You… made me something? Why the fuck would you?”
You flinch and he curses, shutting his eyes.
“As in I don’t deserve anything from you, not that I’m irritated,” you ease just a bit, it’s so clear the way you must remember the last time you came in, everything about you is tense and on edge, you’re fidgeting with your hands nervously, looking all pretty in your little dress today.
“I am bringing Sukuna one later,” you answer, earning his jaw setting.
“Oh so your husband and your lover?”
“Yes,” he sighs, shutting his eyes and setting it on the desk. “I felt like we… am I stupid to think that we had… a moment or something and… maybe it’s nothing…”
Satoru cups your face, his hands overtaking it, looking down at you with his lashes lowered, looking into your eyes, anxiety filled ones already glimmering with your emotions. “I can’t stop thinking about last night. Thinking of your mouth,” his thumb trails across it carefully, breath ghosting yours as he leans down. “Your slutty cunt and how she gripped my fingers.”
“Gojo…” You trail off now, chest rising and falling with your breaths, he’s pressing you against the desk now, his hands sliding down your neck, your shoulders, the sides of your breasts.
“Why do you still look at me like you could ever not hate me? Why not look at me like I fucking deserve?” You swallow and look down at his mouth, then flicker back up to his eyes.
“If we didn’t meet like an arranged couple, do you think you’d have hated me so very much?” You whisper softly, making him pause when his hands slip to your hips, gripping and tugging them close, your hands fall on his chest.
“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head now. “I don’t – I fucking hate myself.”
“You love yourself more than anyone I’ve ever seen,” your hands grip his dress shirt now, little shaky breaths escaping your lips. “Do you love to confuse me?”
“As if you don’t confuse the fuck out of me, think I ever thought I’d finger some man’s cum? That I’d damn near beg to eat it out of you?” Your eyes get dazed, your pupils dilated, but your jaw is set, even as he bars you against that desk, arm on either side of you.
“You, eat someone out? Laughable,” he snorts just a bit, blue gaze flickering across your face, your throat, your pretty tits barely visible in that neck line. “Do you hate me less because I made you cum?”
“I don’t fucking hate you –” you scoff and he slams his lips on yours, moaning into the kiss as the door opens, and you both hear a gasp.
“Satoru!” He glares at the door as Jennifer rushes in, coming right up to the two of you now. “What’s she doing here!?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He says now, at his wit’s goddamn end with this girl, at least Chloe fucked off when he sent her. “I’m kissing my wife.”
His wife.
You’re his wife, for now, until you left him for Sukuna – until you gave him babies and were happy, Satoru could only hope to worship you until then, to beg for any bit of you that you gave – the pieces that he doesn’t deserve. Your pretty eyes looking up at him in that way that ruins his soul, your taste on his lips.
“The wife that is with another man?” You blink and look at her when she comes right up to you, snatching you up. “You want him suddenly, huh?”
You flinch once more – Satoru knows that’s your response even after the way you’ve changed, Satoru snatches Jennifer’s wrist so quickly she almost falls, tugging her off you and seeing her trembling lips and fake ass tears. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
She pouts as you rub your wrist, curling into yourself and hurting his fucking soul.
How could he have hurt you like your parents did? Not physically, but didn’t he do his damage?
“Satoru, I’m just-”
“Get your shit and go home, you’re fired,” you blink a bit and look at him incredulously, as Jennifer gasps.
“You want the world to know that I slept with you, what she is doing!?”
He laughs softly, walking over as she tries to fucking cling to him, opening the door. “Say what the fuck you want, like I give a fuck. Get out.”
“Satoru please I-”
“Suguru?” He shouts for his partner in his office across the busy room, he stands up curiously, the whole of the floor staring at the scene happening. “Can you please help Ms. Jennifer with her things and give her a letter of recommendation?”
“You can’t be serious!” She hisses, Satoru rolls his damn eyes, Suguru immediately comes up and sees you curiously behind Satoru, curiously clearing his throat.
“Sure, Satoru,” he says, gently taking her arm and shutting the office door, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet, his head resting on the door for a moment.
“Did I ruin that for you?” He looks back, narrowing his eyes and seeing you trembling, hugging yourself just a bit. “I know you were with her-”
“I couldn’t care fucking less, she shouldn’t have barged in and put her damn hands on you,” he walks over and takes yours in his own, studying them quietly. “I should have done more with your fucking parents.”
“I don’t think so,” you whisper, looking where his hand joins yours.
“Sukuna beat your dad, the night he fucked your pretty little cunt first, didn’t he?” Your eyes dilate, his voice breaking in the middle with his desperation about to ruin him utterly. “That’s what you wanted.”
“It’s not! I asked him not to, he just…”
“Loves you?” You look down again, earning him tilting your chin up. “He is in love with you.”
“He hasn’t said that yet but he cares for me, yes, very much so,” you suck in a breath when he rests his head on yours, breaths mingling together in the quiet of his office, with the sunlight filtering in.
“You love him.”
“I’m falling in love, yes.”
“Could you ever not hate me?” He asks now, tears filling his own eyes, you bite your lower lip, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I’m not asking you to not love him, not fuck him, I earned that shit, I know.”
His fingers slip your dress up, gripping the smoothness of your thighs, the tension making him fucking ache, cock throbbing and leaking pre, dying to bury himself inside you. “What are you asking then?”
“For a taste of you, a goddamn piece of you until you finally get to leave me,” he sinks to his knees and looks up at you with his hands slipping your panties down, watching your thighs shaking, that slick on the inner parts of it. “Any of you that you wanna give me, I know I don’t deserve it.”
“Y-you want to… but you don’t…” You’re bare to him, he’s looking right at you, inhaling that sweet scent, you jerk when his breath tickles your skin.
“Let me lick your pretty cunt,” he murmurs, he never thought he – Satoru Gojo – would be begging to eat pussy, with his arranged, cheating little wife of all people, but he can’t imagine not lapping you desperately. “Let me drown in you.”
“You want to drown in me?” Your thigh shakes when he puts it over his shoulder, the noise of his office drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears and the heart beat racing.
He sighs, lashes fluttering when he inhales you. “Let me, fuck just let me taste you, how pathetic do you need me?”
You lean back on his desk, arching your hips and making him moan out loud, parting your plump lips and watching wetness trickle out, hearing your little gasp when he touches you.
“You’re soaked, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nose bumping your clit when his mouth kisses on your cunt – Satoru’s never bothered to be down like this, never cared to put in that much work with a woman.
Until you.
He’s dying to have you shatter for him, just once before you go.
Your answer is to blush all cute like you’re not ruining two grown ass men, hand gripping his white locks, and a little nod.
If Satoru wasn’t already fucked mentally from you before, he was now.
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
Satoru looks at you with those blue eyes, the ones you can’t figure out to save your damn life, then he surges forward, clumsy and starving.
It's not skilled like with Sukuna, who knew exactly where to lick and suck to absolutely destroy you, it’s messy and desperate. His mouth presses against your clit as he targets it, sucking the twitchy little thing in it – wet and hot, his tongue lavishing you without any rhythm. He’s not even close to your spots but the way he whines out, the way he whimpers against you.
It’s impossible to not fall for those bright blue eyes, burning gaze as he’s drowning in you, his hands dragging you against his face. Your own are flying to his hair, his clumsy mouth devouring you so goddamn desperately, your own slick dripping across his pretty face as you lose yourself, arching further into him, your hips pressing against his face further.
“Why do you have to taste like this?” He whispers, voice thick with desire and his mouth full of your slick. His eyes darken as those pupils blow out, sliding a finger into your needy cunt, fucking right against your cervix and making you gasp, hands tugging at the roots of his hair. "See what you fucking do to me?”
You can hardly register the devastating way he learns your body, your eyes fluttering shut, Satoru adding another, stretching you out, scissoring them inside that needy, messy cunt that squelches. “Gojo…”
“Satoru, fuck,” he muffles those words against you, tongue flicking faster on your clit, his other hand stroking himself, before he sucks it and starts moaning, all messy with your cunt drooling on his face.
You’re overheated and dizzy as his fingers – long and thick – start pressing against your spot, he keeps analyzing you even while he’s messy, needy, honing in on every way you arch and tremble.
“Cum, fuck… just cum on me…” You’re crying out when he accidentally flicks his tongue just right, whining out when he’s standing and turning you around, sinking his fingers right back inside as he bends you over his desk. “Don’t think of him right now, don’t.”
“Did you fuck her on here?” You look back even as your cheeks are flushed, his fingers moving up and down, his lips brushing your neck, teeth sinking in your delicate skin. “How many times since we’ve been together?”
“I couldn’t count,” he admits now, pulling his fingers back just before you can cum, sucking your taste off them with his cheeks hollowing. “How many times has he cum inside you?”
“I couldn’t count,” you answer, his lips messy and mean as you unwillingly arch for him.
"Does he make you this wet?” Satoru’s undoing his belt, lifting your thigh and toying with that slit slowly, watching it drip down. “So wet you drip on the floor?”
“He does,” you admit now, whining out when you feel the blunt of his tip slipping down your slit, making you tremble. “He eats pussy better than you, he makes me squirt all over.”
“I can’t stand you,” he says with a soft laugh, tugging at your hair hard, making your head fall back, his tip hitting your clit and making you jolt. “I told you I didn’t fucking know how, mean little brat.”
“Me, mean? W-what a fucking joke, ngh,” you can’t do this, you can’t fucking do this, even if Sukuna told you that it’s fine, even if he swears that he’ll still want you. How can you fuck Satoru Gojo?
How can you fuck the man that broke you?
How is he the same man that just begged to taste you, the one positioning himself, making your eyes roll back. “I wish I fucked you first, wish your blood slid right down my cock like it did his.”
“Psycho,” you whisper out, scowling right at him, your hands gripping the desk as his hand lifts your thigh, tip taunting you. “Just fuck me, what are you waiting for? Wanna chat and have lunch?”
“You are mean now, fuck,” he’s moaning as if you being mean makes him harder, before he slams his lips on yours and shoves his cock inside you. “Oh my… f-fuck… you’re so…”
He says nothing for a moment, length buried all the way inside your cunt, as you’re throbbing around him, desperately trying to handle how full you are. “How many women were you inside, h-huh?”
“None of them fucking matter,” he gasps out, pulling back and slamming in, the sound messy and filthy. “None felt like you, god no one… perfect little cunt, fuck you for it.”
“Fuck you, Satoru,” he whimpers as he fucks into your cunt, and you can feel his tip dragging your spot, making you sensitive, gasping out for a breath, ass arching despite your words.
“You hate me, don’t you? You fucking hate me,” he moans now, burying his face in your neck, slamming into you harder, a hand coming to wrap your throat, squeezing ever so gently. “You should hate me, you shouldn’t let me inside you, shouldn’t even let me w-watch you with him.”
You hate his words and how desperate they are, you hate how good he feels when he steals your breath, you hate that you both could have been doing this instead of what he made you endure. You hate him utterly and completely, even as your eyes roll back in your skull and his pelvis slams that thick, lengthy cock even deeper inside your walls.
“I do hate you,” you whisper – nothing like with Sukuna, who you’re falling in love with every moment more and more, with Satoru it’s hatred, it’s toxic and terrible, even as he feels so sinfully good. “I do.”
“Good baby, you should,” he kisses you and squeezes your throat, shoving so deep inside that you almost scream out if he didn’t shush you with his kisses. “Cunt was made for me.”
“No it wasn’t,” your answer makes him glare, fucking you harder, mean with it, somehow reverently kissing you as his cock wrecks you, and you feel yourself even closer. “Mnh!”
“Was it made for Sukuna, baby? Does he hit your spots like this?” He slams in again and you whine out, looking into his dazed, psychotic eyes.
“He does,” your answer makes him moan, squeezing harder and burying his cock to the hilt, his hand snatching up yours, putting it on your clit. “Ah…”
“Play with that slutty lil clit f’me,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut when you spasm around him. “He showed you, huh? What to do?”
“Yes,” you whisper softly, letting his long fingers guide your own, the mess of your slick falling, when he whimpers, kissing you desperately, the pressure of his cock in your cunt making you shatter. “Ngh!”
“Don’t stay quiet,” he whispers – psychotically as fuck when you try to bite your lip, your clit twitching underneath your fingers as he slams deeper. “Make that noise, let ‘em hear me fucking you, your slutty cunt’s so goddamn loud.”
“You’re… whimpering l-like… a bitch,” he grins at that, laughing and kissing you. “Don’t make me like you.”
“You like my cock,” you’re spasming, his fingers taking over when yours fall, pinching your clit between two of them and watching you fall apart again, sucking in a breath for a moment at your rolled back eyes, the way your brows draw together. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”
“D-don’t… say that… please,” you barely manage coherent words as you squirt down his length, hips twitching, Satoru cups your face and looks at you with those blue eyes that were once cruel, now they’re desperate, his pupils so big they look black.
“So beautiful, fuck you are, god I w-wish I said it before,” you feel your emotions hit when he buries his cock to the hilt, crying out with his weight pressing you onto the desk.
“Gojo…” He pulls back and his cock slips out, dripping down on the floor with the creamy mess you two have made, sitting you on the desk and fucking you face to face, eyes tortured and so black they’re terrifying with those white lashes.
“Satoru,” you shake your head, even as he kisses you desperate and needy, slamming his cock so deep you feel him all over, curved tip bruising your puffy cervix, you’re crying out into his mouth, nails digging into his back over the dress shirt. “Perfect, you’re perfect, fuck you’re s-so… tight, so wet, so…”
You don’t answer him, you can’t think when he takes you over, ruining your mind just like Sukuna does, making you not think.
You can hardly breathe with his kisses, nose brushing against yours, breath ghosting your swollen lips. “Lemme cum inside, fuck… please, please…”
“You shouldn’t get to,” he sighs and pauses, hands tugging you even further down, shoving up your dress to look at the bulge move, moaning at the sight.
“I’m inside you, filling you,” you swallow – throat gone dry, his tie is crooked, collar coming undone, his hair falling out of its usual perfect place. Satoru is a mess, a whimpering mess for you, whispering your name like a devotion, his lips still taste like your slick. “Wanna fill you, have my cum coat those slutty walls. Please, what the fuck do you do to me?”
Sukuna asks that – what do you do to them?
You take a shaky breath, hand brushing over his undercut, his tip leaking as he thickens inside you, tugging him down for a kiss, making him moan into your mouth, tongue bullying yours, sucking all your oxygen till you can’t breathe. “Satoru.”
“Oh my fuck,” he busts inside you, burying his face in your neck as he takes over your body, teeth sinking into them as he bites and sucks, as if he’s marking you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god… n-never felt it that good…”
He’s mumbling as he floods your cunt with white, the warmth spreading in your core, you cling to him weakly, thighs spasming as he spills down his own length with the force of your orgasm. His teeth nip under your chin, his eyes drugged when he looks down at you, cock still pulsing as your aftershocks milk him for all he’s worth.
It’s quiet, then.
You hate Satoru Gojo even more now.
You hate that you could have had this if he wasn’t so horrible.
He brushes a tear aside, sighing and kissing your closed eyelids. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“For what this time?” You ask then, swallowing when he rests his head on yours. “For everything?”
“Yes,” he breathes out the words, pushing into your sore cunt. “Sorry I sent you to another man, now I have to watch you with him and dream you’re mine.”
You don’t know how much pain you can take, wanting to forgive and love a man that did this to you, torn now between what’s toxic and terrible, and what’s toxic and loving.
Sukuna was toxic too, but he loved you.
What did Satoru feel?
“I won’t stop seeing Sukuna,” he sighs and glares at you. “Just because we fucked. I am falling for him.”
“And what do you feel for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers across your cheek, blue eyes drinking in your face as his words brush over you. “Just hatred?”
“I don’t know,” you whisper brokenly. Taking a breath he eases out of you, his fingers slipping through the creamy, gooey mess, pressing it back in. “What are you doing, mnh!”
“His turn to play in my cum,” Satoru smirks as you glare at him. “Will you hate me less if I tell you I’ll never fuck Jennifer again?”
“And Chloe?” You stand up with his help, he sucks the mess of you two off, kissing you with it, your hands crumbling that fancy dress suit.
“Never, don’t care if I have to share you,” he sighs those words into your mouth.
“Really?” You look up at him, and he’s dead serious, nodding.
“No one,” you swallow nervously, backing off finally, thighs trembling. “Lemme guess, you gotta visit your boyfriend?”
“I do…” You adjust your dress, taking a shaky breath, laughing just a bit.
“What?”
“I guess since we’re all gonna be…” You trail off, what the fuck even are you three? “Well, what are we all going to do for dinner tonight?”
He smirks a bit. “I’ll let you and fucking ‘Kuna’ pick.”
*******
You swallow nervously as you walk over to Sukuna in his office after the gym is closing, and his gaze drifts across your neck, your shoulders, seeing how tense you are.
“I need to talk to you,” you whisper now, he just sets your lunch down and tugs you onto his lap, you gasp when you straddle him right in that chair. “Kuna I need to tell you-”
“He fucked you,” you swallow and nod. “I told you it was fine if you did, why are you panicking?”
You bite down your lower lip, entire body trembling when he cups your face. “How are you not disappointed, mad?”
“Why the fuck would I be, hmm?” He smirks now, his hands pressing so hard into your thighs they’re bruising. “Question is, did you tell him he sucked?”
You laugh with tears in your eyes. “I told him he sucks at eating pussy, and whimpers like a bitch?”
“Good girl,” you both laugh softly, your hands slipping up his chest, when he shoves your dress up, his pink lashes flickering, jaw setting as he gets serious now. “Pull my cock out.”
You bite down on your lip, doing just as he commands with his gaze serious now, crimson eyes flashing dark once he’s in your hold. He tugs your panties aside and eyes the mess your cunt is, raising one of his brows as he pulls the elastic.
“He cum inside that needy little cunt?” His voice is hoarse, you exhale, nodding, when he sits you on his cock and shoves all the way in, no prep, no touch, just slams it to the hilt, making it burn.
“Ah!” You’re trembling as he grips your hips bruisingly, lifting you and slamming you down once more, the burn and stretch making tears prick your eyes, ones he kisses off your cheeks, the little salty drops on his lips as you cry out from the stretch, the pain that’s so sweet.
“I told you I’d fuck his cum out, huh?” A little gasp escapes when Sukuna bounces you up and down his length, Satoru’s cum slipping down on his own cock with the mess of your own. Your eyes roll back, desperate gasps escaping your lips. “Slutty cunt didn’t need my fingers, did she? She wants all that cum, doesn’t she?”
“W-want yours, please,” he slams you down so hard you’re crying, sniffling out, nails digging into his bare shoulders. “Please, please…”
Satoru begged for you.
You’re begging for Sukuna.
“Show me you want it, brat, lemme see,” you rise up and down, your thighs sore and aching, Sukuna’s teeth biting where Satoru sucked. “I’ll mark you worse, fuckin’ bruise every beautiful inch of you.”
“K-Kuna… ah!” He sucks hard on your neck, moaning as you drip down his heavy balls, ready to breed your hole better than Satoru could, his words filthy, whispering your name like a mantra as he guides your hips, you’re lost in him, dizzy and floating, the pain the only thing keeping you tethered.
You fucked Satoru and he came inside – now Sukuna is fucking his cum out, and letting it drip down his cock.
You’re utterly torn, lost in the high that Sukuna gives, with the lows that Satoru is trying to fix, wondering if you can love two men, wondering if either of them could truly love you. Sukuna slams you down and pins your hips, making you wriggle and cry out, sniffling from the pressure, he groans.
“So pretty crying, is it too much, baby?” He taunts, gaze flickering. “Can’t you take me?”
“I can,” you sniffle more, trying to ride him, thighs shaking, head falling forward as he bites your neck again. “Kuna…”
“Make yourself cum,” his hand slips up your throat, tightening and squeezing, voice devastating. “Milk me for all that cum your slutty cunt needs, that’s it – take what’s yours.”
The maddening rhythm of you working him as he sits there, watching you ride him, grinding your cunt right on him so you drip down his pants, dress rumpled from two sets of hands on it – you’re lost in it, cunt aching.
When Sukuna pumps cum inside, teeth biting harder until a little bit of blood drips down your neck, you’re almost about to faint. Dizzy when he’s kneeling and you’re up on his desk, your thighs spread – you hardly realize he’s videoing it, the sight of all that white pouring, scooping it up and shoving it back inside.
“Kuna why’d you video?” You murmur, just for you to get a text from Satoru. You glare at him and he’s chuckling like a psycho. “You sent it to him!”
“I sure did,” he shoves his fingers deep in your sore hole, his lips trailing up your neck, your phone falling from your hand. “So, what are we having for dinner, brat? Are you cooking?”
Your phone keeps going off, you take a shaky breath, cunt a mess of both men pouring out of you. “Satoru said you pick?”
Sukuna snorts and kisses you, tilting his head. “I’ll pick then,” he nudges your neck, sighing and tugging you close. “Did you really tell him he sucks at eating pussy?”
“I really did!”
“I guess I’ll have to teach the little fuck, but,” he trails off and tilts your chin up. “He won’t ever make you cum like I can.”
Sukuna kisses you, he’s so rough you’re weak, not gentle or easy – like he’s kissing every frustration out, all you can do is fall into his arms, unsure of just what the fuck happened, and how you make any sense of it. You’re married and you have a boyfriend, one who is laughing sadistically as he marks every spot Gojo did even harder.
How does this end up?
plz be respectful in the comments as this was a LOT OF WORK - and I'll repeat again - THREE ENDINGS LMAO
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link for commissions <3
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ frat!kuna fwb series ]
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. angst. friends with benefits. toxic frat culture. hazing. fraternity/sororities. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. SLOW BURN. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. sukuna is a football (soccer) player too. HAPPY ENDING. tags will be updated as series continues.
✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?
✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds
✮ ch 5 || conditions ✮ ch 6 || cracks
✮ ch 7 || summer break ✮ ch 8 || tbd
✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd
✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd
✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line
✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex
✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time
✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly
✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna
✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
✮ pt 7 — halloween special: scare actor!sukuna
✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym
✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition
✮ pt 10 — holiday special: grinch!kuna naughty or nice
✮ pt 11 — sukuna leaves his door open when you’re over
✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮
[ INFO ] : the chapters are the actual series. it begins mid-spring semester JUNIOR year. the parts exist in the same story, but as stand alone canon oneshots and will not be mentioned in the chapters. they take place between sept-nov fall semester of their SENIOR year [parts and chps can be read separately]
THERE IS NO SERIES TAGLIST ✦ age should be visible on your blog — (art: @/xhealer_ tiktok, dividers: @/lariesographic )
☆ spiderman! jungwon x fem! reader
☆ summary: spider-man was the city's strongest hero: a crime-fighter, a man of the people, and... a loverboy? it's been months since jungwon, the identity behind the powerful spider-man persona, broke up with you. somehow, even with the entire city's fate resting on his shoulders, his biggest concern still remains whether or not he will ever get to see you again.
☆ genre: spider-man! au, exes to lovers, JUNGWON YEARNINGGG, slooooow burn, college! au, jealousy, angst, pining, SEXUAL TENSION & YEARNING
☆ word count: 24.4k words
☆ my long awaited... im sorry guys i was genuinely going through hell and back when i was writing this but its okay papa vanya pulled through, for my dearest @ashtxrie
Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, bated breaths tearing from his lips.
Not again, he thought to himself, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He could feel his loose t-shirt sticking to his skin, the heat from under his blanket too sweltering to endure that he had to throw it off of him. His cat-like eyes flickered to the window beside his bed. The moon gleamed so charmingly, streaming bright slivers of light through his window. And yet, all Jungwon could do is shiver into his hot skin.
It’s been almost 6 months since Jungwon broke up with you. 6 months since he’s been genuinely happy.
And for the past 6 months, Jungwon has been having the same nightmare every night. The nightmare that ended the same way no matter what Jungwon’s brain wired itself to conjure up: with you dying in his arms.
Jungwon shuddered. It was the middle of summer. Even when it was late in the depths of night, beads of cold sweat managed to find their way back onto Jungwon’s neck. Sitting up on his bed, his knees pressed against his chest, Jungwon’s heart pounded in his ribcage, so loud that he could hear it in his ears, yet his fear was so quiet in his heart.
His eyes flickered around his dark bedroom. He needed to call you, he thought. Images of your dying face, choked sobs, and teary voice flooded his memory. It made Jungwon’s eyes line with hot tears, as they always did whenever this nightmare returned to him. He needed to call you, to make sure that you were okay, that his greatest fears hadn’t come true.
Jungwon's hand, still trembling, reached out for his bedside table. If he ignored the empty coffee cups cluttered on it, or the way he had hundreds of ignored messages and call notifications, he would have slowed down. And just as he searched up your name in his contacts, his shaking fingers about to call you, he stopped.
Oh right. He’s not with you anymore.
6 months is a long time. Apparently not long enough for Jungwon to forget his feelings for you.
If his chest wasn’t already aching, it was now. It was him that broke up with you. It was him that chose to break your heart. It was him that chose to leave you crumbling to your knees, tears spilling from your eyes as you silently begged him to stay.
And maybe that was his biggest regret.
Jungwon stared at his hands. He gazed each callous on his palm, every single scar and scratch still evident on his skin. His eyes glazed over the black spider-like veins on his wrists.
No, there was no time to mull over you. Not when there was an imminent threat in this city. Slapping his cheeks awake, Jungwon huffed before climbing out of bed. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep anyway. He might as well distract himself with something productive. Start early.
His eyes fluttered back to his moonlit window. Ah, fuck it.
Jungwon had a secret.
A secret that he kept guarded day in and day out, like his life depended on it. And the truth was, his life did depend on it.
Ignoring the way the red and blue spandex felt particularly uncomfortable as it stuck to his still-sweaty skin, Jungwon shot a sticky white web at a building. He gazed at the web that had ejected from his wrist, before peering over the ledge. In this busy city, it seemed like no road was ever going to be completely empty, not even in the depths of night. There were still people roaming the streets, noisy cars honking at one another with their tires screeching.
You hated heights, was the resounding thought that clouded his head as he looked down to the city below him. Once again, Jungwon's heart tightened in his chest, and he shook his head.
He needed to stop thinking about you. You probably already stopped caring about him anyway. You're a pretty girl, even before you and him broke up there was already a line of guys waiting for you to be single. Jungwon wouldn't be surprised if a girl like you already found someone else.
Someone better. Someone that wasn't a damn coward like Jungwon was.
Jungwon let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the way that the cool summer night air brushed against him. It's hard. To let you go, to accept that what once was his could be someone else's.
He looked back down to his gloved hands, the same hands that have been fighting crime for the past 6 months, the same hands that were responsible for the safety of this city, the same hands that touched your pretty face, the same hands that have brought criminals to justice.
It was all blurring together. Jungwon dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He needed to let you go, before his mind devoured him. He needed to let you go, before his identity as Spider-Man, the number one crime-fighter in this city, gets inevitably revealed, and he has to witness you die for the hundredth time. But for real this time.
"Damn, you look like shit."
Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend's comment, sighing loudly as he flipped through the pages of his textbook. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
Look, Jungwon is a college student. Although his Spider-Man gig was pretty good at paying him, he wanted to contribute to his community in another way. Like through tutoring the local kids.
"Why are you even studying basic elementary algebra?— you're a film major!" Jungwon's good friend Sunghoon Park was a great guy. A little rambunctious, but still a good friend. But not right now.
Jungwon had agreed to have a quote un-quote "study date" with Sunghoon at the coffee shop below Jungwon's apartment complex. Jungwon was a little proud that his friend suddenly wanted to study with him (such intellectual vitality!), but seeing as all Sunghoon has been doing for the past 30 minutes is scrolling on his phone and looking around conspicuously tells Jungwon otherwise. Sunghoon didn't even order a coffee or soak in the scent of warm coffee beans in the coffee shop. He just sat there.
Jungwon shot a look at Sunghoon. "This kid that I'm tutoring, apparently he's not very good at math."
Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as his thick brows quivered.
"Okay..." he said slowly, his vowels drawing out. "But why do you need to study for it? Don't you like—" the man made a face— "Already know how to do basic math?"
Jungwon opened his mouth to explain that he's not necessarily trying to review elementary math, but moreso trying to figure how to teach it, but he was cut off by Sunghoon's continued rambling.
"—Like shouldn't you know how to add apples? Like if Sally has 2 apples and she gets 3 more, how many does she..." Sunghoon trailed off when he saw Jungwon's completely vacant, unamused expression. Jungwon clicked his tongue, going back to his very informative reading. However, he could practically feel Sunghoon staring at him, to the point that it felt like he was burning holes into Jungwon's person.
Jungwon let out another annoyed sigh. When he looked up to Sunghoon very obviously staring at him, his friend comically looked away. As if Sunghoon was fooling anyone.
"Do I have three heads?" Jungwon asked bluntly.
"What?"
Jungwon huffed, leaning back in his seat. "You keep looking at me. What is it?"
Sunghoon blinked. Jungwon watched as his older friend's Adam's apple bobbed. The once relaxed, though awkward, expression on Sunghoon's face wiped almost immediately, being replaced with a deeply uncomfortable and uneasy one. He squirmed in his seat, his dark eyes darting around the coffee shop in silence.
"Are you okay?"
But instead of answering, Sunghoon just shoved his face into his hands, muttering something under his breath that Jungwon couldn't make out.
Finally, Sunghoon finished his mini-mental breakdown and looked at Jungwon. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes Sunghoon went from looking perfectly fine to looking like he just went through hell.
"Jungwon." Sunghoon finally said, his voice solemn. Which was weird, because when is Sunghoon ever serious? To add to Jungwon's bewilderment, Sunghoon reached across the table, taking hold of Jungwon's hands. His expression was so comically somber that Jungwon thought he was joking. "I have something to tell you."
Jungwon rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting. "Yeah, yeah, get on with your little bit—"
"I"m serious." Sunghoon looked around again, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping to as low as a whisper. "It's serious."
Jungwon's brows knitted together, his expression pinching in pure confusion. "What are you talking abou—"
Sunghoon squeezed Jungwon's hand from across the table. His friend took a deep breath, before earnestly facing Jungwon. "What I'm about to tell you, you didn't hear it from me."
"Just—" Jungwon's scowl deepened. "Just tell me already, dude!"
Usually Sunghoon would react, but he just shook his head solemnly. Sunghoon took another deep breath, before he opened his mouth and let words tumble out: "She has a blind date. This weekend."
Jungwon blinked slowly. "Um. Who?"
Sunghoon looked like he was going to shit himself. "You know...."
Jungwon didn't know. Jungwon literally does not talk to anyone except a select few of his friends. And none of them are girls. "I don't, though...?"
Sunghoon sucked in another sharp breath, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Your... Your girl."
Oh. Jungwon's heart sank to his stomach. That's not... what he expected. Not in the slightest. And the way that Sunghoon physically flinched as he revealed such information didn't make Jungwon feel any better.
"Who... told you that?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips together, forming a line as thin as paper. "You know my coworker? Wonyoung? She's [Name]'s good friend and she's been boasting how she hooked her up to this guy."
But Jungwon tuned Sunghoon out after that. Maybe if Jungwon had a better grip he would have calmly explained that you were not his anymore. It’s not like your breakup was a secret, and if there was anyone who had to bear witness to Jungwon's abject gloominess, it would be Sunghoon. Jungwon couldn't understand why his friends still referred to you as his, even when they were well-aware of the fact that you two were separated.
"C'mon, man, we all know you still want her," was a sentiment echoed by all of his friends.
And they were right. As if they could see through Jungwon's quiet exterior, his robotic composure so keen on hiding his true feelings.
Sunghoon's words fell upon deaf ears. If he did listen, he would hear Sunghoon pleading Jungwon to let go of this act, to stop putting up walls, to finally admit that he was wrecking himself from the inside out by continuing to act like he no longer cared for you.
Jungwon stared blankly at the coffee shop table. The pain in his chest no longer felt new. It felt more like a constant.
In his pencil case he still had the expensive mechanical pencil that you gifted him. Its silver ridges were practically molded to the curves of his fingers. The capsule of lead that came with the pencil only had a few pieces left. When he studied he still listened to the same songs that you introduced to him, the same songs that you and him kissed to as the two of you laid in his bed, and—
Jungwon thought he was okay. And for the first few weeks, he really was just fine. After all, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the better. But Jungwon knew that he'd break sooner or later. And it would be now.
It seemed like in every waking moment, you still managed to consume his thoughts.
All roads led back to you.
As Jungwon swung from building to building, he tried his best to clear his mind. As he always did.
After his little coffee chat (disaster?) with Sunghoon, Jungwon had excused himself to go to some "work." When really, he was just reporting for duty as Spider-Man. Feeling the wind against him as he swung around the city, the thrill of nearly flying through the air, was always useful whenever Jungwon had a lot on his mind. Like always, Jungwon checked his usual stops: banks, daycares, financial and business centers, just to make sure that no one was rumpling with civilians' safety.
Lately, it hasn't really been working. But what did he expect?
The bright summer sun, blaring its orange-yellow light, was now dipping into the horizon. The air smelled like gasoline and peaches, and yet, Jungwon couldn't even relish in the tranquility. Jungwon didn't know why he kept thinking about you. The thought of you going on a date at all with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut twisted as images of you laughing and smiling flashed through his mind. It hurt so bad, so damn bad.
A few more times of helping kids cross the road, or giving an elderly person some directions, and Jungwon felt like his legs were going to give out. Which was strange.
As Spider-Man, Jungwon was cursed with enhanced senses and incredible regeneration abilities. Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Jungwon never had to experience feeling physically worn out.
Not until right now. Jungwon slumped against the wall in the back alley, the cool stone pressing against his cheek. He looked down at his hands— was he sick? Losing his abilities? Seriously, what was wrong with him? His body was feeling uncharacteristically warm, like he was burning up from the inside. His eyelids felt heavy, while his legs felt like jelly.
And maybe Jungwon would have passed out in that alleyway if it weren't for the god-awful sound of his cellphone ringing.
Kriiiing! Kriiiing! Mindlessly, he picked up the call. "Hello?" Jungwon breathed, pushing nearly all of his body weight against the cold wall for support. He laid his head back, exhausted in ways that he couldn't explain.
A familiar voice greeted his ears. "Hey, it's Sunghoon."
Jungwon gritted his teeth. Not again. "I'm not interested—"
"Listen." Sunghoon said, his voice earnest. "I'm sorry about what I said today, but—"
Jungwon's lips pressed together. How shameful. It must be so shameful, the fact that everyone knew that Jungwon was suffering so much, that it was so obvious.
"—Me and the guys are going out this weekend," Sunghoon's gravelly voice said over the phone. "And we thought that you should really come with us."
Without even realizing it, Jungwon's breath got caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wanted it to, "Like I said, I'm not interested—"
"Jungwon," Sunghoon pleaded. "You... You haven't been yourself lately. We know that you're struggling right now—we're worried about you. Please, just let us be there for you."
Jungwon felt so humiliated. Ashamed even, at the way Sunghoon's voice was filled with so much sympathy. So much pity.
Jungwon wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Sunghoon and all of his friends for not minding their damn business, for treating him like he was some charity case.
But as Jungwon's eyes traced his shadow on the road, his phone to his ear, Jungwon wanted to shout at himself, for being so weak, for being a coward, for pushing people away, for having an ego so fragile that he felt threatened by his own friend caring about him.
How pathetic. And Jungwon has the gall to call himself a hero?
Jungwon clicked his tongue. "Okay, I'll be. there."
Jungwon wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly why his friends called him out tonight. It was to distract him from the fact that on this same night, you'd be going on your date.
The plan was to all meet up at Jake's apartment, and then go to the club from there. The moment that he arrived at Jake's apartment, he scurried to the bathroom.
Jungwon stared into Jake's bathroom mirror. The entire cramped bathroom smelled like strong fumes of manly cologne and hair spray. From inside, he could hear the muffled bantering of his friends, probably arguing about who would be driving.
His eyes glazed over the tight black compression shirt that clung to his chest, the dark-washed ripped jeans hanging from his hips. It's been a while since Jungwon utilized his pierced ears, and he figured that he'd put in some simple flat black studs before the piercings inevitably closed up. On his wrist, Jungwon had mindlessly slipped on the braided tassel bracelet that you made him; it was still hanging around his room, and he had forgotten that it was from you. Despite that, he didn't have the heart to take it off and shove into his pocket.
Jungwon couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't just the breakup that ruined him.
Sure, losing you was probably one of the greatest losses in his entire life, he was sure of that. But since then, Jungwon has also purposely distanced himself from his friends. He stopped responding to their messages and going to big group outings.
He could hear Jay's howling laughter and Jake's shouting, all sounds that should be completely familiar to him. And yet, there he was, feeling awkward.
He felt like staying in this bathroom until someone noticed that he was absent.
Click! But that wasn't what Spider-Man's do.
Jungwon cracked the bathroom door open, and the moment that he stepped into the hallway, revealing his blank expression, all of his friends whipped their heads. Jungwon could feel their eyes on him, staring at him like he was some anomaly, and for a second, he regretted even agreeing to hang out with them.
He hadn't seen these guys all together in so long. In fact, Jungwon hadn't been in a personal group setting for months now. He wasn't going to lie and say that showing his face to the friends that he strayed away from made him feel uneasy.
But almost immediately, his friends' faces cracked with large grins, whooping his name.
"Jungwon!" Jake delighted as Heeseung threw an arm around Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him snugly to the side of him.
Jay's sharp features morphed into a big, boyish smile, his lips forming a curve. Jay brought up a hand to dap Jungwon up, and Jungwon received it. "Hey, man."
Sunghoon followed behind him, his sharp canine teeth revealing as he chuckled. "Glad you could make it, Jungwon."
Jungwon felt unnatural. Out of place, like a fish out of water. When was the last time he was around people that enjoyed his presence? Other than the group of middle schoolers that cheered him on when he dashed through the air, or the middle aged women at the local library club that doted on him, Jungwon couldn't remember clearly.
For all the months that Jungwon tore himself away from his friends, he didn't know what was more surprising, that his friends still wanted something to do with him, or that nothing had changed while he was gone.
Sunoo's eyes still pressed into thin crescents as he threw his head back, laughing at something stupid Riki said. Heeseung still pulled Jungwon into a headlock, aggressively scruffling his head and ruining his hair despite Jungwon's complaints. Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon still liked to argue loudly, their voices reaching volumes so high that Jungwon was sure they'd get a noise complaint before even leaving.
And as Jay and Sunghoon wrestled, falling onto Jake's couch, the room erupted with the same familiar howling laughter and quips that Jungwon had forgotten how much he loved.
As Riki jumped in to join in the pseudo-wrestling match, Sunoo chanting "fight, fight, fight!," and Heeseung and Jake acting as refs, Jungwon gaped at the scene.
The boys that he's grown up with, the boys that had seen him grow from a wimpy little middle schooler into a strong adult, the boys that never failed to make him laugh— have stayed the exact same.
And for the first time in a while, Jungwon felt his lips lift up, soft giggles erupting from his chest as his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a foreign feeling, and an even more foreign sound.
His friends seemed to think the same. In an instant, the room fell silent. Once again, Jungwon felt all eyes on him.
But before Jungwon's mind could play tricks on him, Riki dashed over to him, throwing the older boy over his shoulder and throwing him on the couch.
"You son of bitch, Jungwon!" Riki laughed affectionately, beginning a tickling assault on him.
Once again, Jake's apartment was engulfed in chaos and laughter.
Well, after being tickled so hard that he almost started crying, as well as a well-deserved noise complaint from Jake's neighbors, Jungwon and his friends finally decided to go to the club. Which was their plan all along, but it wasn't any of their faults that messing around in Jake's home was more fun. And plus, Jungwon accidentally used too much of his spider abilities and body slammed Riki so hard that they all needed a momentary time-out to get Riki an ice pack for his head ("How the hell did you get so strong?!" was what Riki was more concerned about than the giant red mark on his forehead).
Bright strobing lights, the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol, and the sound of techno music filled all of Jungwon's senses.
And with the encouragement of his rowdy, unruly friends, Jungwon sucked in sharp breath.
Fuck it.
Whatever worries he had now, or whoever was breaking his heart, he was going to forget it. He was going to pretend that it never existed, that it never hurt him, that he was okay.
Just for tonight, just for his friends.
"C'mon!" Jake pulled Jungwon by his arm to the bar. The older boy ordered the two of them a few shots. As they waited for the bartender to prepare their drinks, Jake and Jungwon sat on the barstools. In the corner of Jungwon's eyes, he could see his other friends fucking around like they always did.
"Would it hurt them to have some class?" Jungwon muttered playfully, unable to hide his amusement when Heeseung slipped and fell on the dance floor.
"Nah, class is a foreign concept to them." Jake let a bashful smile spread on his face, his gelled hair falling over his eyes. The older man tapped his fingers on the bar counter to the electric music loudly blasting.
Jungwon grinned, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, before Jake opened his mouth again.
"We missed having you around, you know."
Jungwon whipped his head over to his friend. He quirked a brow. "Really?"
Jake put a hand on the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Yup." Jungwon followed his eyes, back to their friends that were now teasing Jay for his wild dance moves. "I think you're the smartest out of all of us."
"That's not true."
Jake shook his head. "Nah, you should have seen us. Me and Sunoo were trying to figure out how to do taxes. Never again."
As the bartender served up their drinks, Jungwon turned back to Jake, who continued, "I know you're having a hard time, but just know that we're here for you."
Jake raised the shot glass filled with a golden brown liquid— "Cheers."
Jungwon smiled.
Clink! Their shot glasses collided.
"Cheers." And with that, Jungwon threw the shot back, the bitter taste on his tastebuds burning so hard that it reached his nose. Almost immediately, Jungwon's expression turned sour, his nose scrunching at the taste. "Blegh— How do you drink this?!"
Jake shrugged. "You'll get used to it if you drink enough."
Jungwon hunched over the bar counter, his elbows on the counter as he held his hands in his head. He shook his head. "Never again. That's nasty."
A few moments of silence pass. Jungwon slid his empty shot glass over. "Give me another shot."
Despite being an adult, Jungwon had forgotten what it felt like to party.
The thrumming of the techno music that filled the club felt like it was stringing directly through Jungwon, droning through his head. After a few shots and buzzed laughs with Jake, Jungwon was tipsy enough that his body felt weightless. Weightless enough to find himself on the dance floor.
As his strong body moved to the music, Jungwon felt the rhythm of the music. His mind was hazy, nebulous as the alcohol in his system began to take over. Jungwon's head felt warm, and his vision despite his spider senses was more blurry than usual. But that didn't matter.
Blood was rushing all over Jungwon's body. His cheeks felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was his enhanced spidey-senses or if the music was just that loud that he could physically feel the hum in his chest.
Then, the music switched from an upbeat electronic sound, to a slower, more melodic one. Jungwon swore he recognized the song, but he couldn't name it. Jungwon felt the multiple bodies of the room brush against him, before he felt one directly press up against him.
It was clearly a woman. Jungwon let his eyes shut as he let his body take reign.
Swaying to the gradual beat, Jungwon found his hands on this new woman's body. As his chest pulsed to the song, he took in her scent, he could smell sweet, floral nodes. He could barely feel his feet below him, and for a few moments, he felt like he was going to float off of the ground. And just as Jungwon thought he was going to ascend, he felt two manicured hands on his chest. His hands slid down to her hips, squeezing them, which earned him a sultry giggle.
If Jungwon weren't drunk, he may have jumped away the moment he realized that a woman was practically grinding on him. But the alcohol was too deep in his system, and he was too far gone. Even with his eyes closed, Jungwon could feel everything so intensely. He felt fingers reach for his belt loops, pulling him along.
As the music slowed to a stop, momentarily invading the usually bumping club in a hushed silence, Jungwon felt the woman lean into his ear.
"So handsome," she rasped, her warm breath brushing against his skin.
And as the chills trickled down his spine, the music finally came back on. And strangely enough, even though they were, in fact, inside a partying club, the music that blasted from the speakers was the complete opposite.
A slow piano, rich and deep vocals, and a romantic cadence.
Even in his drunken state, Jungwon immediately recognized this song at the first lyrics. Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Preseley. Without a doubt, it was this song.
How did Jungwon know? Because this was the song that you and him loved to slow dance to on your kitchen floor. And just like that, Jungwon's mind drifted into the deepest pits of his mind, the parts that he'd locked away.
In his mind, he saw you and him swaying to this song. You and him both wearing matching aprons, giggling as you attempted to slow dance. He saw the way you'd look at him, with those beautiful eyes that he could never refuse. He saw the way you said his name with a smile that he could never forget, not even in a million lifetimes.
Then, he saw flickering images of you and him: you and him holding each other in the winter to keep each other warm, you and him crying into each other's arms, you and him arguing over something so silly that you just ended up bursting out laughing.
And for a moment, it felt like you were there. Another body up against his, dancing so rhythmically that for a split second, Jungwon could pretend that it was you.
And in the depths of his heart, he prayed that it was you.
He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this nightmare would end, and he would get to see you. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would see you, staring up at him with those same beautiful, glossy eyes. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this song would end, and he could scoop you up and bring you home, to show you all the love that he desperately wanted to give you.
But as Elvis Preseley's resonant voice sang earnestly, Jungwon's eyes slowly peeled open to not see you, but another woman.
A woman that was not you.
"N-Not her," Jungwon's lips quivered, his body instantly pulling away. His feet stumbled, in an attempt to tear away from her grasp. Jungwon ignored the way the woman attempted to pull him back, calling out to him.
In his intoxicated state, Jungwon felt hot tears line his eyes as he staggered away.
Not you. She wasn't you. It didn't matter, in fact. No one was you.
It didn't matter what Jungwon tried to do, his heart kept going back to you.
His head was spinning. Jungwon could barely control his body as he bursted out of the doors of the club, and even less, he couldn't control the tears that were now staining his cheeks. The expensive bottle of water that the club had at the entrance was completely chugged down in a single swish, minus Jungwon's struggles to manage his soft sobbing.
Even with water in his system, Jungwon's head was still spinning. His vision was swirling. Finally, after faltering for a few moments, Jungwon found himself sitting on the stairs at the entrance of the club.
As his vision cleared up, the alcohol in his system slowly washing away, Jungwon brought his hand to his mouth, to muffle the sounds of his crying.
Maybe he was just drunk, but the tears were just not stopping. Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, labored and stammering breaths rising from his chest. His hot tears were beginning to burn his eyes.
Even from outside, he could still hear Elvis Preseley's vocalization.
Damn it, did he have to ruin tonight? Jungwon pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees. His jeans were getting wet with his tears, and the late-night breeze was getting chilly.
In fact, everything was hurting.
Why couldn't he just forget you? Why couldn't he just let you go? Why did he still yearn for you?
Jungwon lifted his head. He could see his hunched figure in his shadow on the ground. How pathetic of him. He hasn't cried in a long time. It felt weird. It didn't feel like him.
Jungwon looked at the spider-like black veins on his wrist. Why was he cursed? Why did it have to be him? He wasn't worthy, he would never be worthy of being Spider-Man. Jungwon didn't ask to be bitten. He didn't ask for that stupidly rich and ignorant scientist to come to him and urge him to use his powers for good. He didn't ask for this responsibility. He didn't ask for anything, except you.
"With great power comes great responsibility," was what he was told the moment the scientists found him. And Jungwon really believed in it. He used his strength to help the weak, he gave others the power that they couldn't have, he protected the love that others cherished.
But couldn't keep any for himself.
After Jungwon's initial honeymoon phase with his newfound spider abilities, he realized something that changed his entire life forever. That he was no longer safe, and even more, everyone that he loved was no longer safe. And Jungwon thought he was strong enough; he thought that he could let you and all of his friends go slowly to protect you all. But he simply wasn't.
And Jungwon felt so damn selfish. He felt like a greedy bastard, someone who couldn't sacrifice himself for the good of others. Why was he even crying? There were people in danger right now, and here he was crying because he missed the girl of his dreams? How pathetic.
But he wanted you so bad.
Jungwon never wanted anything in life. All his life, he was obedient like a dog. He did everything that others asked of him. He always tried his best, always valued his righteousness, always did what was right.
But now, all he wanted was you.
He's never wanted anything, but the moment that he wants you, he couldn't have you.
Here he was, crying like some idiot all alone while you were probably still on that date. God, he wished Sunghoon never told him. He tried his best for the past few days to just not think about it, but now Jungwon had to truly face the fact that you've already moved on. His chest felt like it was going to burst.
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his fist to muffle his sobs even more. Maybe he should just go home. It's cold, it's uncomfortable, it's unsanitary, and most of all, Jungwon felt like shit.
As Jungwon stumbled to his feet, he sucked in one more breath. It still smelled like alcohol, with a scent of cigarettes. Then, he looked at the bustling road across the street. Somewhere out there, you were laughing with another man. Probably kissing him, calling him the same names that you'd call Jungwon.
God, it made him physically ill. Jungwon brought the back of his hand to wipe his nose one more time. He was going to go home. He'll leave a call for Heeseung or something later.
But before he could even take another step—
Boom!
Jungwon looked up at the sky. Even when it was dark, he could see a large cloud of black smoke. And now, he heard police sirens in the distance and the screaming of civilians.
Shit.
You fiddled with your fingers, bouncing your knee in anticipation to the beat of the 2010's pop song that your taxi driver chose.
Damn it, Wonyoung, you thought. You glanced down at the dress that your best friend chose for you. In the reflection of the backseat car window you caught your made up face. The blush on your cheeks, your curled lashes, the lip gloss. You thought you looked pretty.
Your eyes fluttered to your phone resting in your lap. The latest notification was from Wonyoung, telling you good luck and that you looked pretty. You couldn't help but smile.
It's been 6 months since your boyfriend Jungwon broke up with you. And frankly, it's probably been the worst 6 months of your life.
Words could not describe the types of pain and downright suffering that you went through. You cried for weeks straight, and up until recently, you hadn't had the motivation to really do anything.
The breakup was so unexpected, too. One day you and Jungwon were laughing, the next he left you. You couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like Jungwon gave you a succinct reason either. All he had said was that he was sorry, and that he had no other choice.
And the worst part was, you still weren't over your ex.
All that pain for nothing, you thought as your eyes followed the cars that passed your taxi. Your best friend, Wonyoung, on the other hand, had had enough.
"I don't like seeing you like this," Wonyoung had told you one night, as you cried into her shoulder. Despite what she showed others with her bubbly personality, her voice was stern. "It's not fair to you."
And you knew she was right. Which was why you let her set you up on a date with one of her colleagues. You figured that it was time that you stopped mulling over a man that couldn't stay anyway.
It's been so long in general since you even considered looking at someone else that wasn't Jungwon. And for a reason that you couldn't explain, it didn't feel right. And yet, you pushed it to the back of your head as you stepped out of the taxi.
The restaurant that your date, a guy named Haruto Watanabe, chose was a semi-formal one, called Bisco's Palace. You thought that name was a little bit corny, but you brushed it off. Thick stone walls, yellow-orange moody lighting, and an elegant grassy hedge at the entrance. It looked like a fairytale, and because of the beautiful dress that Wonyoung made you wear, you felt like you were in a fairytale.
When you arrived, you were met with a tall man with sharp features.
"Haruto?" you asked. He turned to look at you. You watched as his eyes widened, before he gave you a once-over.
"[N-Name]?" he spluttered. You recognized the look on his face. It was the look on a man's face whenever he found a woman attractive, and unfortunately, you were no stranger to it. "You look— You look beautiful."
If you were someone else, maybe you'd feel flattered. It's not every day that a good-looking man calls you beautiful. But all you felt was a sense of unease. Not that it was his fault; there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. You just didn't know why you felt so uncomfortable.
You fought back the urge to make a face, and you instead forced a tight-lipped smile.
"Thank you." Now it was your turn to look him over. He was wearing a crisp button-up with slacks. He looked well put-together. "You look great too."
Haruto visibly turned pink, and he muttered something under his breath as he averted his gaze. Finally, he cleared his throat, extending his hand out to you. "Shall we go in?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, before you took his hand curtly. "Of course."
The two of you were quickly seated, and after being greeted by a cheery waitress that was clearly still in high school, your food was ordered and served in a timely manner. If you were to be honest, you weren't exactly too invested in tonight's date. Even if you agreed to it to get over Jungwon, you knew that your heart wasn't there yet.
Not to say that Haruto wasn't a sweetheart. He was polite, had very good manners, and was very respectful toward you. He tried his best to keep a flowing conversation with you, and in recognizing his efforts, you simply just went along with him. He was handsome and a well-natured guy. And, the food was great. Everything was to your taste, from the appetizers to the drinks to the dessert. The wait staff were also on top of it. As a whole, the restaurant was just perfect. The lights, the music, even how cushioned the chairs were.
Like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect. Perfect man, perfect food, perfect night. But it just wasn't good enough.
You felt nothing for Haruto, not even an ounce of interest. And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew why you were like this: Because he wasn't Jungwon.
There was nothing "Jungwon" about this date. Haruto certainly wasn't Jungwon, but everything about this date was nothing like how you liked to be treated. You liked to laugh and to get into dynamic discussions about silly topics, ones that didn't even matter. Haruto was so sweet, but he couldn't match your level of wit. While the food was tasty, you didn't want something so stringent and formal. You'd rather do something together with your date, to get to know each other better rather than sitting at a candle-lit restaurant.
Who would have known all of this? Who would have allowed you to do all of these things regardless of the environment? Who did your heart still stubbornly belong to?
Jungwon.
You let out a forced laugh at one of Haruto's jokes before excusing yourself to the washroom.
Shhhhh! As the sink water ran, you stared at your reflection. Even your makeup was done in a way that you knew Jungwon liked. The lipgloss in your purse was the same one that he bought you all those months ago. You didn't even know if you had the heart to use it up.
You thought that you were doing better. But it seemed like time and space only made your heart grow fonder.
It was getting later into the night now. And against your better judgment, you wondered what Jungwon was doing. Maybe he's playing video games. Or reading all of the superhero comics that he loved to collect.
Then, your mind wandered. What if he was with another girl? Your chest overwhelmed itself with unimaginable hurt. He never gave you a real explanation as to why he wanted to end things, and seemingly, his closest friends couldn't either. You'd be lying if you said that your mind didn't betray you, wandering to all of the darkest places.
Your eyes traced your own face in the mirror. Would Jungwon do that to you? Was he really the type to be unfaithful?
You knew the answer: no. Never. Jungwon was many things, and a cold-hearted unscrupulous cheater was not one of them. But then again, you thought you knew him to be the type to never spring a breakup on you. But he did. Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought he did.
You took a deep breath. Not right now, you thought. You were on a date with another guy. It would be disrespectful to think about your ex, wouldn't it? Even if Haruto was most definitely not the one for you, you should have some courtesy.
You quickly rinsed your hands, dried them, and reapplied your lipgloss. And as you were ready to step back out, prepared to brave your tight-lipped smile and kind words, a large crashing sound pierced your ears.
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, the tiled bathroom floor below you rumbled, low growls rolling from under your feet. You froze. Your hand jerked out to grab the counter, the wall, the bathroom door handle— anything— to keep you stable.
"W-What the—"
Another deafening roar thundered through the air, enough to make your ears ring. At that instance, the floor below you ripped open.
What the hell was going on? Was it an earthquake? That would explain why the ground tore open. And yet, in the distance, you could hear booming thumping sounds.
Almost like the footsteps of a humongous being. Almost like the footsteps of a supervillain. Shit.
You're well aware of the state of your city. In the past few years, there has been a strange phenomenon of evildoers and mutants alike, appearing throughout your city to wreak havoc and torment civilians. And with that came the rise of even more bold crimes. Bank robberies, arson, kidnappings, pretty much everything.
Luckily, in the past 6 months, a new hero has appeared. The red and blue masked hero; the friendly neighborhood superhero himself; Spider-Man.
Your apartment, located near the center of the city, was awfully close to all of the commotion, nearly all the time. Which was why you couldn't help but admit that Spider-Man was quite the gem, for taking out all of these ne'er-do-wells and eccentric supervillains. And yet, here you were, probably in the middle of a supervillain attack.
All of the past villains have been eccentric but petty. But as the tiles below your feet literally cracked with each booming thrum, you were sure that this new villain, whoever it was, was worse.
Much worse. Probably worse than you could ever imagine.
And before you could react to the way that you tumbled to the ground, the cold floor hitting your knees so achingly, you heard a shriek from outside the bathroom.
"It's Baron von Fizzlebang!"
.... Who?
Baron von Fizzlebang?
What kind of shitty villain name is that—
Boom!
The smell of smoke filled your nostrils. You didn't know where it came from, but from the way that civilians screeched and screamed outside, you figured that it couldn't be far from you.
Boom!
Okay, this is urgent, you needed to get out!
Your heart rate picking up, you breathed slowly to keep yourself calm. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your soon-to-be bruised knees ached. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, the lights flickered, followed by the sound of explosions. Even though you were definitively inside the bathroom, with all sides of the room still intact, the dust seeped through the cracks, filling your lungs. With a strained gasp for air, you clamped a hand over your nose, squinting.
You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. Now the entire restaurant blared with fire alarms and smoke detectors. Police sirens also sounded. The large footstep-like thudding in the distance came closer and closer. You had no choice but get out of this damn bathroom and book it.
Your heart was now pounding so quickly that it felt like it would fall out. Your legs felt so weak, your head feeling too heavy. Who the hell is Baron von Fizzlebang? And more importantly, why did it have to be tonight? Without even realizing it, your palms had become sweaty, and with all the blood rushing to your head, you were mere seconds away from sweating.
You shook your head. Focus! You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand wrapped tightly on that bathroom door handle. On a count of three, you were going to open that door and run for your life.
One. Why did some good-for-nothing supervillain have to ruin your already-mediocre night?
Two. You needed to relax. There's no time to sit around and think and languish. Just do it!
Three. You pushed the heavy bathroom door open, and you bursted through the doorway.
And much to your relief, the dark hallway that led to the restaurant's bathroom was hidden away in a little nook; at the end of the hallway was the entrance to the main room of the restaurant.
Slowly creeping down the hallway, you could see the destruction that was wreaked on Bisco's poor, fancy restaurant. Chairs and tables were knocked over, with broken glass and porcelain scattering the red-carpeted floor. From the looks of it, it seemed like all of the restaurant's patrons were either huddled up in another section of the restaurant, or they had escaped.
Great. Now, all you had to do was get out. Thankfully, at the other end of this hallway, there was a backdoor exit. So all you had to do was turn around and—
There standing at the end of the hallway, in front of your exit, was a tall and slender man.
He wore a fitted tailored suit, yet it was bright purple, with a giant bow tie. He had a monocle over his eye.
Like some type of costumed noble. Like a baron.
"That's right," he said, a devious grin spreading across his face, in a way that almost made him look like a carnival clown. Your pulse froze, mid-beat. Theatrically, he gave you a bow, before he reached a hand out to you. " 'Tis I, Baron von Fizzlebang."
Your gut twisted. And when you stared at him with shaky eyes, your entire body frozen in time, the supervillain let out a cackle.
"Oh dear," Baron von Fizzlebang put his hand to his chest, feigning offense. He slyly eyed you, and at once, you could see a lightbulb seemingly pop from his head. "You don't mind being a hostage, right?"
Before you could even open your mouth, Baron von Fizzlebang shot you with finger-guns. And before you knew it, you fell to your knees, your vision became hazy. The last thing that you heard as you lost consciousness was the supervillain's laughter, police sirens, and shouting for a particular red and blue masked superhero.
Jungwon swore that he had a special sense for you.
Jungwon arrived at the scene barely even 5 minutes after he heard the initial explosion. The big fancy restaurant at the end of Mainstreet was the scene.
Really? Jungwon thought. Bisco's Palace? That pretentious place?
The thing was, Jungwon wasn't really nervous. One time, he had to fight an entire group of 20 thugs with guns barely 5 minutes after he was rudely awoken. Jungwon could probably fight people in his sleep. His body and physicality, although he resented it half the time, was perfectly attuned to everything that he needed.
Even now, as he was barely sober and emotionally wrecked, he could see clearly. When he arrived at the scene, half of Bisco's Palace was completely destroyed. Mini fires spotted the scene, with pods of smoke bursting in the night air. Terrified civilians cried that they heard earsplitting thumping in the distance, like footsteps. Others claimed that an eccentric villain called "Baron von something-something" was the cause of this all.
Jungwon huffed. Another crazy supervillain? Seemingly there was another crazy supervillain appearing everyday! What, was there some kind of factory pumping them out? From the looks of it, it seemed like most of the civilians had escaped relatively unscathed.
Good. Jungwon readied himself to launch into that burning restaurant. He had a simple action plan: Rescue the remaining civilians, beat that Baron von something-something's ass, and go home.
The moment that Jungwon's striking red and blue figure launched across the sky, Jungwon could hear the gasps of civilians, police officers, and on-site journalists alike. Jungwon landed easily into what was left of that restaurant building.
And when he entered, it was quiet. Eerily quiet.
Jungwon had to be careful.
Jungwon creeped slowly, closer to the main dining room. He kept his breathing as quiet as a whisper. And when he peeked his head through the grand, arched door-frame that led into the dining room, there, he saw a group of civilians, huddled among the flickering fires Men, women, children— there they were, shaking in fear, and coughing as the. Fire smoke filled their lungs. With his enhanced senses, he could hear mothers hushing their wailing babies and children asking their fathers if they were going to die tonight.
Not on my watch, Jungwon mentally answered their questions.
Jungwon shot a web at the ceiling, and in one fell swoop, he gathered enough momentum to swing across the restaurant, landing where the civilians were.
"Spider-Man!" they cried.
Jungwon crouched down toward them, putting his hands on his knees.
"Listen," he began, his voice stern. "I am going to help you guys escape." Jungwon grimaced at their amazed gazes. "But I need you guys to listen to me carefully."
Jungwon's eyes glazed over the group of civilians. There were up to 15 of them. He didn't have time to carry each and every one of them out. The entrance was burning, and there weren't any other ways to get out. Jungwon wanted to conserve his time as much as possible. To prevent that bastard of a villain Baron von something-something from doing any more damage.
And now that he took a better look at these civilians, they looked tired and worn out. Their cheeks were covered in soot, sweaty faces from the fire that was surrounding them.
Jungwon's eyes darted around the restaurant. There had to be another exit. Then, his eyes fell upon the tall window that stretched from the ceiling down to the floor.
Bingo.
"Mama, it's too hot," Jungwon could hear a toddler babble. Other people seemed to join in on agreement, and yet, they could barely speak coherently. With sweat-stained shirts and cheeks, Jungwon cursed under his breath.
Damn it, the fire was physically weakening these people. Jungwon's plan was nothing short of easy: he was going to break the hell out that window and get these people to escape that way. Yet, the problem was, the windows were bound to shatter and create dangerous shards. Jungwon was going to instruct them to be careful, but judging from the way that these civilians flinched at even the slightest flutter of fire while barely even having the strength to stand up, there was no way that they could have the alertness and mental precision to actually avoid the shards.
Think, think! Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut. What should he do? In the palace that was his mind, Jungwon ran through every possibility. These fires were big. They looked much smaller outside, but now that he was in the restaurant itself, these tongues of fires were massive. Not only were these fires scalding, but the smoke was painful for these civilians.
Come to think of it, shouldn't every building in this city have a robust mechanism for when fire breaks out? And yet, the walls, floor, and remaining civilians in this restaurant were dry. Which means that the sprinklers haven't gone off yet.
This was why public establishments needed health inspections... Jungwon shook his head. He didn't have time to criticize the efficacy of his government.
At once, Jungwon shot webs at whatever hard object he could find— fallen plates, bundles of metal utensils, even pieces of debris— before slinging them into the ceiling, directly toward all of the sprinkler bulbs that dotted the tall ceiling.
I'm sorry about your ceiling, but you'll thank me later, Jungwon thought, before slinging thick wads of webs toward every vent.
As each sprinkler bulb shattered, flared streams of water bursted from the ceiling. And as each vent of this flaming restaurant were webbed over, Jungwon prayed to whichever god he could think of that his physics professor was right about buoyancy. Hopefully, if he was right, by webbing over the vents, new smoke would not be able to enter the room, and thus reduce the amount of smoke that the civilians were breathing in.
As cold water droplets pittered and pattered over Jungwon's suit, he watched as the remaining civilians cheered and cooled off under the sprinkler. And with his physics-accurate ventilation blockage, they'd now be much more compliant.
Jungwon latched onto a larger piece of debris and slung it at the closest and safest window.
"Okay," he began instructing, creating a temporary web to shield the civilians from the fractured pieces of the window. "
You—" he pointed at a man—"Take that kid. And you two—" he pointed at two teenagers—"Stick together."
Jungwon organized the people. "Be careful, and step around the shards!"
The civilians were already on it. Jungwon watched as they carried their young and old, fleeing as fast as they came, all of them murmuring a "thank you, Spider-Man," as they pushed out through the window.
And with that, Jungwon was left all alone. The fire had died down just a little bit, by virtue of the sprinklers. For safe measure, Jungwon configured a few webs to create a few fire barriers to slow those damned flames down.
Now where was that Baron von something-something?
Jungwon scanned the restaurant. He looked everywhere. In the foyer, at the entrance, in the kitchen, even under the tables.
But he couldn't find anyone.
Except, there was one place that he didn't check: the dark hallway in the corner of the restaurant.
Jungwon inched toward it, slowly. He took small, spider-like steps.
"Oh, would you just hurry it up already?!" a loud voice boomed through the air.
Emerging from the hallway was a tall man.
Baron von something-something.
"Look at you, Spider-Man!" he cried, mockingly batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands together. "So brave! So strong! You helped those poor, poor civilians escape!"
Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this maniac? Jungwon's fingers twitched.
"But it looks like you forgot one." A sinister smile spread across his face. "Oh come out, dear!"
There was nothing that could have possibly prepared Jungwon for what he saw next. His heart plummeted to his stomach, because from the dark hallway emerged you.
Your face was dazed, your eyes cloudy, and your movements so sluggish. As if you were unconscious, and your mind was being controlled.
"Dontcha think she's pretty?" the villain continued, eccentrically throwing his arms around you. He laughed. "They don't call me Baron von Fizzlebang for no reason! With a single gunshot from my fingers, I can take anyone under my control!"
Jungwon tuned everything out.
He felt a flood of emotions.
Fear.
You, the person that's been haunting him. You, who has been consuming his thoughts and life. There you were, in front of him, after all of this time. Even when you weren't really there, Jungwon couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.
And yet, it meant nothing. His fear meant absolutely nothing. Not when there was another emotion taking hold: anger.
So much anger, that his blood felt hot. Jungwon dug his fingernails into his gloved palms, enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache. How dare this villain take advantage of you? Your safety was in jeopardy. It made Jungwon's stomach boil with a rage that he couldn't comprehend, the way that you were quite literally not in control of your body. That in the time that Jungwon wasn't there, unspeakable things could have been done to you. To think that your own autonomy was torn from your hands, to think that your own dignity was desecrated in the name of some supervillain's sick power game— that conjured a feeling that Jungwon couldn't even describe. Disgust, horror, wrath; he felt it all.
Jungwon now looked upon the villain with eyes full of wrath.
Baron von Fizzlebang continued to rave on and on about how great he was, and how this was just all part of his master plan to subjugate this city. But it didn't mean anything.
To the entire world, Spider-Man was a hero. And in most ways, he was one. Jungwon saved people daily, he prevented the city around him from crumbling to the ground like it was easy. He was a man of the people, the beacon of hope for all city residents.
The symbol of law and order, the righteous hero of the city, Spider-Man.
And yet, as Jungwon's eyes couldn't bear to tear away from your dazed face, he felt his resolve slip away.
The obligation to protect others, defend freedom, and uphold justice, like a vessel from a dock, sailed away into the horizon, into the unknown. Right now, Jungwon was not Spider-Man protecting a civilian. He was not the Spider-Man that had no other duty than to ensure the safety of his fellow citizens. He was not the Spider-Man whose every action reflected his moral purity.
No, Jungwon was a man that was so ashamed of his own fears, that he never even dared to speak of them. He was the man that pushed everyone away, frightened by what would happen if he continued to associate with them. And worst of all, Jungwon was the man that still continued to yearn you, longing for your touch one last time before he would consign his love to oblivion.
Which was why all Jungwon saw was red.
Maybe if he was actually listening to Baron von Fizzlebang's monologue he would have heard how his abilities worked, but Jungwon didn't care. He'll probably figure it out later when this lunatic gets thrown into jail.
Jungwon couldn't control his body, or his mind at that matter. All Jungwon could remember doing was shooting a web at the ceiling to gain a higher vantage point, before (with all of the maximum, inhuman speed that his body was capable of) swinging down to land a kick flat onto Baron von Fizzlebang's cheek, effectively knocking the man down to the floor.
Before the villain could even react, Jungwon couldn't stop himself; he pinned the villain down to the floor using all of his body weight, before he let nothing but his sheer anger reign. All of his pent up emotions— anger, fear, shame, guilt— spilled out. No longer was Jungwon the pure hero.
With his bare hands, he landed punches to Baron von Fizzlebang's abdomen. Over and over and over.
Spider-Man used spider webs and crafty tricks to defeat his enemies. But Jungwon? He used his bare hands. With gritted teeth, and blood boiling hotter than lava, Jungwon punched, and punched, and punched. Even when he could feel his knuckles beginning to bruise, he punched. He ignored every cry and groan of pain coming from the villain, for there was only one thing on his mind: your dignity.
Jungwon wouldn't have stopped, not even if his arm gave out (because he would just switch to his other arm), not even if this maniacal supervillain was out for good.
The only thing that pulled Jungwon into his blind rage was the sound of you collapsing to the ground, with a thump!
Instantly, Jungwon snapped out of his fury, his head whipping over to you. Seemingly, with Baron von Fizzlebang knocked out, you were released from his control.
Immediately, Jungwon rushed over to you, leaving Baron von Fizzlebang's unconscious body.
"[Name]!" he cried, scooping your limp body up into his arms. You no longer looked dazed, so at least Baron von Fizzlebang's control of you wore off for good. And yet, your expression looked exhausted. Your eyes were half-lidded, labored breaths and soft whimpering pushing from your lips. "[Name], can you hear me? Are you okay?—"
Overhead, Jungwon could hear helicopters and the shouting of police officers and firemen from outside. They must have figured that Jungwon defeated Baron von Fizzlebang, and now they were sending re-enforcements. But all of Jungwon's focus was still on you.
"Spider-Man...?" you mumbled weakly, your voice hoarse and quivering. Now that he got a better look, your eyes were bloodshot, and your cheeks were tear-stained. Jungwon's heart clenched in his chest. He couldn't understand why he felt such an overwhelming urge to pull you into his embrace, to hold you close as if you would disappear. "Spider-Man, I—"
"Don't speak," Jungwon's voice came out as a whisper. And maybe it was now that Jungwon realized that his eyes were welled up with tears. It's been so long since he's been able to see you, and yet ironically, the only reason that he could was because your life was in danger. Jungwon let out a choked sob. "Don't say anything, [Name]."
"But I—I wanted to thank you—"
"Shhhh."
You looked so tired. He couldn't imagine how you felt, being under the control of a supervillain that has malicious intentions. But here you were, still taking it upon yourself to thank him. He couldn't even fathom what type of pain (emotional? physical? mental? you definitely weren't going to be okay after this, he knew you that well) you were going through.
Hug her, was the resounding thought that filled Jungwon's head. He almost cursed himself for thinking such a thing. After all, he wasn't yours anymore. But as he watched your worn face, he thought again. When you were still his, you always felt soothed when you were under intense stress if he hugged you tightly, the way that you always liked it.
Holding his breath, Jungwon gently lifted your head and chest, before pulling you into his arms. Almost instantly, you relaxed into his body, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Like how you used to. You murmured something under your breath, but Jungwon was too distracted by the tears that were now definitely streaming down his face. He hadn't felt your touch in so long. He's been dreaming of getting to hold you one last time for months now.
Your eyelids began to fall, your head yielding to his shoulder, which was a tell-tale sign that you've fallen unconscious.
In the restaurant of ruin and rubble, Jungwon sat there on the debris-ridden floor, with you in his arms. Before he finally decided to get back up and take the two of you out of this place, he gave you one more tight squeeze.
"I love you," he whispered into your ear. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that somewhere in dreamland, you heard him.
Jungwon stared out of his apartment window. It's been a few days since the Baron von Fizzlebang-Bisco's Palace incident. Baron von Fizzlebang was taken into police custody and his trial awaited him. Meanwhile, the city was still cleaning up the aftermath, with an entire block of the city being taped off.
But the city wasn't the only thing that had to be repaired.
Namely, Jungwon hadn't recovered yet. His fists still had red-purple marks on them. Even with his superhuman regenerative abilities, he had pushed himself to the extreme when he was beating up Baron von Fizzlebang the other day. But that wasn't the issue.
Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't stopped thinking about you. Well, to be sure, he never stopped thinking about you, but he was thinking about you extra now.
He wondered how you were doing. You were a strong girl. You could withstand pretty much everything, because it was in your nature. But after an incident like this one, he was sure that you were going through a lot.
Jungwon felt selfish. He wanted to check up on you. He wanted to ask one of his friends to ask your friends how you were doing, or maybe go to your apartment as Spider-Man to check up on you himself.
But that's a purely selfish desire.
Jungwon couldn't do that to you. He broke up with you for a reason: to protect you. He'd never want to do anything to put you in danger, and by even opening an avenue of communication between him (in both his hero and civilian form) and you was dangerous in and of itself.
It scared him so deeply, the thought of losing you. But still, Jungwon wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love you greedily, to have you all to himself.
He looked out his window again, then he looked down at his wrists: the black spider-like veins looked darker today. Maybe in another lifetime, because in this lifetime, he had a duty as Spider-Man.
Speaking of which, there were few actual benefits of being Spider-Man. One of them was that Jungwon got to directly impact other people's lives. Which was why every week, the municipal government would send him all of the fan-mail that civilians had for him.
Jungwon shook the thought of you away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he. grabbed his keys, slipped on some slippers, and ventured down to his apartment complex's mailroom.
As always, his mailbox was filled to the brim with mail. From letters to postcards to care packages, Jungwon looked like a madman as he struggled to carry all of his fan=mail back up to his apartment. It sucked that he couldn't use his spider abilities to help him in broad daylight.
In fact, there was so much mail that as Jungwon traversed the hallway back to his apartment, stumbling over himself, one stray letter fell from the stack of letters that he had atop all of the packages.
He cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He watched as that one stray letter seemingly flew off of the stack, gracefully floating in the air for a few seconds before landing before his feet.
Jungwon huffed again. He quickly made his way back to his apartment, set down all of his fan-mail, before running back out into the hallway to pick up that pesky envelope that decided to fly away.
But as Jungwon marched down that hallway, crouching down to pick up the letter that had fallen out of his grasp, his eyes fell upon that name on that envelope.
It was your name. Jungwon snatched it up.
You wrote him fan-mail. Jungwon couldn't help but smile.
It has been about two weeks since the incident, and frankly, you're only halfway over it. You could tell that you were getting better compared to how you were in the immediate aftermath. But you still couldn't sleep at night, and you needed lots of mental preparation to go anywhere outside.
But today, you decided that you were going to put on a brave face, and stand up against your fears.
Pushing what fears you had to the back of your mind, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was late into the morning, and yet, you were wearing makeup.
Wonyoung (that smart girl, always with tricks up her sleeve), feeling apologetic about what had happened at that disaster of a date last week, begged to take you out on a girl's date today. After being cooped up in your room everyday for the past few days, you couldn't say no to her offer.
You felt a little nervous, though. The last time you went out, you got taken control of by that supervillain. But Wonyoung had been there for you the entire way, talking you through it every night. You trusted her, and you appreciated how she didn't treat you like a victim; Wonyoung wasn't babying your every step, but instead just treating you like a normal person.
And plus, it was summer. You wanted to have fun and to live your young adult life. Your eyes fluttered over to your window. Streams of yellow sunlight peeked through. Today was too beautiful. You could remember Wonyoung's excited voice over the phone a few nights ago.
"We should go take pictures!" she has squealed over the phone. "You just look toooooo pretty and we need to post something on your Instagram— to show all the guys what they're missing out on!"
You giggled. You still couldn't get used to being treated like you were single. There were indeed a few cool freedoms that came with being single. But in your mind, you still belonged to someone.
You looked at your phone. Wonyoung talked about posting pictures to make guys feel like bums for not getting on their knees and worshipping you (her words, not yours!). But when you thought about posting pictures, all you thought about was whether or not Jungwon would see them.
You squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't healthy. But you still wondered if he thought about you, the same way you thought about him. You sat up from your bed, before you glanced into the mirror near the foot of your bed.
You hoped that he thought about you, too.
Ding dong! Oh! A ring from the front door! It must be Wonyoung! You happily promenaded to your apartment door, excited to greet your best friend with a big hug, and—
"J-Jungwon?!"
Instead of seeing your pink-wearing scheming best friend, you're greeted with your ex-boyfriend. However, for some reason, he looked more surprised than you!
"[N-Name]?!" he spluttered, his cat-like eyes as wide as saucers with his jaw falling open.
The two of you stare at each other like that for what felt like an eternity.
Your eyes fell over his features. His hair had grown a little bit longer since the last time you saw him (granted, that was half a year ago). His face looked slimmer, like he had lost weight. As you glazed over his figure, he had a backpack on his shoulders as always, but you eyed the way his biceps looked. He looked like he had put on more muscle, and before you could start ogling at him, you stopped yourself.
This was the guy that broke your heart. This was the guy that left you with no words. And now he was at your door?
"What the fuck do you want?" you spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brows crashed together, your expression turning sour. When he didn't respond, because you could tell by his expression that he was too busy checking you out, you began to close the door in his face.
"W-Wait!" he put his hands in front of him, flailing them panicked. You shot him a questioning look. "I think— I think I'm at the wrong apartment..."
You scoffed. "Oh, bullshit. What do you actually want?"
"I-I promise that I'm serious," Jungwon breathed out, and for a second you felt the walls you built for yourself threatening to crash down. He looked like a sad cat. Frantically, he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone that was squashed somewhere in them. When he finally found his phone, he fumbled with it, before showing you his screen. "I'm tutoring... a kid on your floor, I think."
You took a good look at his phone screen, and he was telling the truth.
You sighed, pinching your nose-bridge.
"Do you..." he began, his eyes refusing to look at yours. "Do you know how to get to room 1214?"
You let out another sigh, this time louder. Jungwon stumbled, stammering to explain himself again, but you put a hand up, effectively silencing him.
"Keep going down the hallway, make a left turn, and you'll find room 1214 on your right," you said simply.
"Thank you," Jungwon said, as he nodded slowly, and you hummed.
Another long moment of silence engulfed the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick that you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You watched the way Jungwon's fingers fidgeted, a habit that he's never lost. He did this whenever he felt nervous or shy. It was a habit that you had grown to be fond of. You thought it was sweet that he was so fidgety. You tore your eyes away from him.
Was this the guy that wordlessly broke your heart?
"I'm gonna—" Jungwon started, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna go now."
He locked eyes with you, but just as he tried to break eye contact, you sent him a warning look. He didn't look away.
"Okay," you said simply. "Me too."
"Yeah."
And yet, the two of you still stood there, staring at each other. You've spent so many nights crying over him. You've never felt so much pain in your life before. There was so much anger and resentment that you had built up for him. There were a million words that you wanted to say to him, to tell him how much he hurt you.
But right now, you couldn't think of anything.
"Take care," you said.
"You too."
And with that, you slowly closed your door on him, while he slowly walked away from your door. But you swore that he kept looking back at you.
The moment that your front door clicked shut, you pressed your back up against it, before sliding down and holding your knees to your chest. You couldn't get over him when he clearly still wasn't over you. Why was he playing with you like this? Why did it have to be you, and more importantly, why did it have to be him?
Surely in time, Wonyoung showed up, and the two of you went on your little girl's day.
You huffed as you stumbled through your apartment doorway, struggling to take off your shoes amidst all of the shopping bags hanging on your arm. That Wonyoung, so eager to treat you to a nice day out. She bought you everything that you remotely showed interest in.
The moment that you arrived home, you shed all of your outdoor clothes, retreating to the comfort that was your bedroom. By now, it was dark out, and despite having a long and fun day with Wonyoung, you didn't feel tired. Unlike most days like this one that would follow a logical sequence, you still felt restless, as if your day had not been complete.
You were plagued with a weird gnawing feeling inside you. This happened a lot lately, probably just your anxiety from the past few weeks' incident.
And when you finally realized that laying in bed for hours scrolling on your phone was barely productive for an adult like you, you sighed, before sitting up from your bed.
Maybe you should write to him.
Ever since the incident at Bisco's Palace, you've found yourself especially restless. It's hard to tell if you're just paranoid, but on nights like this, you found yourself doing the same thing: writing to Spider-Man.
You used to be indifferent to the buzz around the masked hero, but now you understood it. You didn't know the reason why, but you found yourself finding comfort in simply writing to Spider-Man. It's simple things like thanking him for his service, and telling him about your day.
You glanced at the disorderly pile on your desk, of folded letters and envelopes. You never sent your letters. You've only ever sent him one letter.
The rest of your letters, which were structured more like long streams of consciousness vomited on a piece of paper, were left unsent.
You sighed. It wasn't like Spider-Man was really going to read your letters. You were just writing your thoughts out. You sat at your desk, scrolling through your Spotify Playlists to first choose the perfect moody music to get you writing. Your finger scrolled around your screen, glazing over the icons for each of your playlists.
You stopped when you saw a familiar, yet long-forgotten one.
It was a playlist that was created an entire year ago, with a simple title: love. Its icon was none other than a picture of you and Jungwon, with your cheeks smooshed up against each other. Smiling. In love.
Your finger hovered over its icon for a few moments. You haven't listened to this playlist in months. It's practically been collecting cobwebs in your Spotify account. If you listened to it now, you'd probably lose your mind. And yet you felt drawn to it.
You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. In times in stress, we as humans seek familiarity. It's not crazy for you, who just experienced something traumatizing, to seek the solace of an old playlist reminiscent of a happier time. Right?
Play, you clicked.
Immediately, songs that you haven't heard in a long time filled your ears, the familiar tunes and melodies that you've grown to love hanging in the air.
You grabbed a pen, and began jotting down your thoughts.
'Dear Spider-Man,' you started off your letter. Below your desk, your knees bounced to the rhythm of each song— each song chosen by Jungwon, reminding you of all of his laughs and soft kisses as you and him shared earbuds on the city's underground subway.
As the black ink of your pen smudged against the side of your palm, you hummed along to the music that emitted from your phone. For a second, you could pretend that it was last summer, when you still had a boy to call yours.
You bit your lip, staring at the words scribbled on the paper.
It wasn't like Spider-Man would ever read these letters. He was a hypothetical addressee in your letters, so to speak. You took a deep breath.
'I miss him,' you wrote next, wincing as you gazed at your handwriting. How embarrassing, that you're confiding in the hypothetical version of a superhero in your head about your boy troubles. Whatever. You continued, 'I don't think I'll be able to move on from him, not any time soon.'
You stared at your words again. Oh, isn't this just pathetic?
You groaned, exasperated. You seriously just needed to get a life, or something. Just as you were about to throw yourself into your bed and scream into your pillows, leaving an unfinished letter open on your desk—
Crash!
You whipped your head toward the source of the sound: your bedroom balcony.
For a moment, your shoulders tensed. The last time a loud sound filled your ears, you got your mind controlled. And plus, it wasn't safe being a woman that lived alone, especially in a city notorious for its crime.
With trembling eyes, you stared out your glass balcony doors. It was completely dark out, save for the streams of light staining your balcony from your room. There's loud sounds all the time, but this time, you were 100% certain that the sound was on your balcony.
Should you go check it out? Or should you just turn off all your lights and jump into bed?
But before you could scare yourself even more, a strong figure slowly rose from the darkness. Hunched over, as if he was in pain, emerged a familiar red and blue hero.
"S-Spider-Man?!" you gaped to yourself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
And despite the darkness, you and him seem to lock eyes. Spider-Man, although it was him that was intruding on your property, seemed even more surprised by your presence, physically jolting away as if he was really that taken aback by you. And unfortunately for him, just as he was about to scurry away, you bursted through your balcony doors.
"Spider-Man!" you called out, as the cool night air kissed your face. You could feel goosebumps rise on your skin, as your thin pajamas did you no justice against the night coolness.
Although he was masked, you swore that Spider-Man was looking at you like you were some kind of freak of nature. But you ignored his gaze, noticing the way his clothed thigh had a massive dark-red splotch on it.
"I-Is that blood?" you peeped, pointing to his thigh. That would explain why Spider-Man had such an unceremonious crash landing into your apartment balcony; he was injured. You looked back up at the hero's masked face. "Spider-Man, are you okay—"
"I-I'm fine!" Spider-Man blurted, his voice shaky and almost uncertain. The hero staggered, stumbling to his feet. You could tell that he was in pain, but was trying to hide it. "I'm okay."
You watched as Spider-Man limped, quietly wincing in pain to the railing of your balcony, gripping it tightly to support himself.
He looked over his shoulder. Even when his face wasn't visible, it was like he was sheepish. Timid, even.
"I'm...." Spider-Man began. You could see his toned back tense. "I'm sorry."
You blinked. "For what?"
The hero hesitated. Why was Spider-Man being so... shy? And unassuming? Wasn't he this grand and powerful hero?
"For...." he drew out his syllables, as if he was grasping for thoughts in his head. "For abruptly— um— crashing. Into... your apartment."
A curve formed on your lips. "No, no. no!" you waved your hands in front of yourself. "Don't worry at all!"
You glanced at the wound on his thigh. Blood ran down his thigh, seeping through his costume. "Are you sure you're—"
Spider-Man interrupted you with a loud groan of pain, as he attempted to take a step forward. He crumbled to his knees, choked cries of pain falling from his lips.
The hero cursed under his breath, muttering about some "bastard" stabbing him.
You rushed to his side, your arms wrapping around his torso to pull him back to his feet. Despite being in pain from his injury, he seemed even more baffled by your touch, flinching away.
"S-Sorry," he apologized again.
"It's okay," you shot him a small smile. "Why don't you come inside?"
Jungwon wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
After his tutoring session with one of your neighbors, Jungwon went home and decided to take a long nap. After all, running into you, his ex, was definitely not something that he intended to do. He needed a nap to clear his mind.
Except, that was not what Jungwon got. Instead, he got another dream of you dying. Combined with seeing you getting controlled by that supervillain, Jungwon was not in the right headspace when he awoke.
Once again, with goosebumps littering his arms, cold sweat rolling down his temples, Jungwon's first instinct, as always, was to jump out of that damn window and take a lap around the city. By the time he finished a lap, it was already dark, and yet neither his mind nor body had the sharp precision that he needed to fight criminals.
Which was why when fighting a group of bandits, Jungwon dishonorably got stabbed in the thigh (though, of course, he kicked their asses to the moon).
And after he tried to swing away via his webs, his painful wound in the thigh made him miscalculate and web, and he tumbled down from the sky.
And that's how Jungwon found himself sitting on your bed.
This time, instead of breaking up with you, he was clad in his spandex suit, waiting for you as you rummaged through your bathroom cabinet.
Jungwon looked around your room. Everything was the same.
You had the same plushies on your bed, with the scent of your perfume still strong in the air. Your desk is still cluttered with the same papers and pens.
Everything, and really everything, was the same. Like one of those unfortunate true-crime cases, where someone dies under mysterious circumstances, and yet their home is completely untouched, with no signs of disturbance. As if nothing had changed at all, save for the absence of life.
It was a strange stillness, and yet, Jungwon shook his head. He was in no position to judge. Though, Jungwon's eyes did catch something interesting.On your desk lay a messy stack of envelopes and papers, some crumpled up and others pristinely folded. Like letters.
And maybe Jungwon was paranoid, or heartbroken, but his mind wandered to the worst places. Were you seeing another guy? Maybe the guy that you went on that date with. Was that why you were probably writing love notes?
Have you moved on that quickly? Was it that easy to forget him? Jungwon's heart ached, and against his better judgement, he rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh. He creeped up to your desk, limping with each step. With each inch closer, he could feel the world shattering around him.
And when he realized that there was an unfinished letter already in the works, freely laying on your desk, his heart dropped.
Jungwon gazed at the stack of letters, then back at the half-written letter played on your desk. But his eyes caught the heading of the letter: 'Dear Spider-Man.'
And it was now that Jungwon realized another crucial detail: your phone, also laying on your desk, was playing music. Playing music from the playlist that you and him made together.
"Spider-Man?"
Jungwon whipped his head around as your voice pulled him out of thought. And before he could even question why you would be writing to him of all people, you were already throwing all of your bandages onto your bed, rushing profusely to him as you cried, "Don't look at those!"
You tugged on Jungwon's arm, pulling him and gently pushing him onto your bed. Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, your face painted with an embarrassed expression.
"You were not supposed to see that," you murmured with your brows knitted together, standing in front of the now sitting hero. When Jungwon didn't respond, you continued, your voice breathy. "Just— Just forget you saw anything."
Jungwon nodded slowly. Under the mask, he glanced back to your desk. Were all of those letters addressed to him? As in, Spider-Man? And why were you still listening to that playlist?
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, even though he was extremely uncertain himself. "I didn't see anything."
You visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh. "I-It's just embarrassing."
Your eyes fluttered up to Jungwon's masked face. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jungwon could tell by the way your lips trembled ever-so-slightly and your brows crashed together that you felt uncomfortable.
You made that face when you felt like you needed to talk. Jungwon swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his arms opening up and his palms opening. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"But—"
Jungwon hoped that you could see his earnest smile from behind his mask. "I mean it. Don't worry about it."
Your eyes narrowed, as if you were studying his face. You sighed again. "Okay, sorry."
A silence engulfed the two of you, as you reached for the bandages and first-aid supplies that you had so abruptly thrown onto your bed earlier, completely unaware of the way Jungwon watched you so intently. He hadn't been so close to you in so long. With every flicker of your eyes and twitch of your face, Jungwon admired you closely.
What he would do to reach out and cup your cheek again, to feel your living and breathing self against his hands. To verify that you hadn't died. To confirm that you were safe and sound, alive and well.
"Can I—" you started, breaking the silence— "Can I help with your wound?"
Jungwon blinked. He had high levels of regeneration, so in a few hours, the wound on his thigh would be completely gone. It would be better to not waste both of your time.
But how you looked at him with wide, innocuous eyes, filled with worry and your characteristic kindness, Jungwon's greed clouded his mind.
"I would love that," Jungwon replied, his voice a near whisper.
How shameful of him, to sit here and selfishly bask in your presence as if he hadn't broken your heart.
You smiled, taking your rubbing alcohol and coming to Jungwon's side. Quickly, you started at your ministrations. Jungwon hissed at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound (he had forgotten what it felt like), whispering apologies with each squeak of pain that fell from his lips. You hummed to yourself, your delicate face so focused.
"You know, Spider-Man," you began as you continued treating his wound, your voice soft, "I always wonder if you remember me."
Jungwon scoffed, his lips moving faster than his brain. Breathy, but eager, words came out, in a tone that Jungwon had always reserved for you. "How could I ever forget you, [Name]?"
You let out a peep, your face slowly morphing into a flustered expression. "W-What are you talking about?"
Shit. "I-I mean—"
Jungwon's ears burned, the apples of his cheeks prickling with warmth. This is not what he meant to do! Jungwon cleared his throat, sucking in a sharp breath to recompose himself.
"W-What I meant was that I—" Jungwon narrowed his eyes, thinking of an explanation— "I could never forget what happened at Bisco's."
You blinked at him a few times, your face breaking out into a frown. "Oh."
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Did that make you upset?
"I always remember the people that I save," he continued, observing your facial expressions carefully. "I could never forget the impact I made on others, and that includes you, [Name]."
You shook your head understanding, but Jungwon could still see the frown on your face. "You're right," you said. Your eyes met with his. "You really have made an impact on me, Spider-Man."
You reached for the bandages, beginning to slowly wrap them around his wounded thigh.
"You know..." you started slowly. A bashful curve formed on your lips, nearly forming one of those cute grins that you always did whenever you felt particularly happy or appreciative. "I think about you quite a bit."
Jungwon cocked a brow.
"The truth is," you continued, the bashful expression on your face growing, "I write letters to you whenever I feel like shit."
"Why?" Jungwon blurted. He knew he probably shouldn't ask. It would make him spiral even harder, but his curiosity got the better of him.
You let out a chuckle, closing your eyes and shaking your head in embarrassment. "Because you saved me. And because you're a pretty universal symbol of strength and reliability."
You looked up at him again, flexing your arms with a goofy grin. "You're this city's number one defender. I write to you because I feel like even if I can't send you anything, I could rely on you, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't seen you smile like that in a while, and your reasoning was un-surprisingly sweet. Because you were that type of person. He couldn't help the way his lips pulled up into a small smile. "That makes sense."
"How about you, Spider-Man?" you asked.
"What about me?"
"What do you do when you feel like shit?" you cocked your head, blinking owlishly. "You must go through a lot as a hero. What makes you feel like you should keep going?"
You, he thought. You were what made him want to keep being a good person. All his deep fears of failure and imperfection were intrinsically rooted in his desires to make himself worthy for you. It was all you.
"You," Jungwon said. But he couldn't have you. "... And other people that I've saved. Knowing that I have helped others is enough to keep me going."
You nodded your head, understanding, your lips forming an 'oh' shape. You continued wrapping his thigh with bandages. "Do you ever check up on the people that you save?"
"I wish I could," Jungwon responded. "I would love to check up on everyone."
"So why don't you?"
You were always so curious. Jungwon pursed his lips. "Because there's too many people that I've saved. I don't know all of them by name. I don't know how to find them."
You hummed. You finished wrapping Jungwon's leg with bandages, using scissors to cut the cloth bandages and securing them. You patted your hands off, sending the hero another smile. "Aaaand you're all done."
"Thank you," Jungwon held a fixed gaze on you again. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around you and embrace you. "I don't know how I can repay you—"
You waved your hands in front of you profusely. "No, no! I'm repaying you for saving me—"
Jungwon shook his head. "If it wasn't for your balcony, I would have probably died."
You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating, before a lightbulb seemingly popped above your head. You swiftly took Jungwon's hands, squeezing them tightly.
"Come visit me."
Jungwon spluttered. "W-What?"
"You said that you didn't know how to repay me, and that you didn't check up on people you saved because you didn't know how to find them," you gushed eagerly. "You found me. You can repay me by visiting me ever so often."
"But— But why?"
You shrugged. "It gets lonely sometimes," was all you said, but your wide and glassy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly made it hard to say no. "Please?"
"I'll try."
You didn't catch it at first. "What?"
"I'll try," Jungwon murmured. "To come back. If I can."
You chuckled. "Good enough for me."
Jungwon wasn't sure if he made a promise that he could keep.
"Good morning! Welcome to Maeum's Coffee Shop, what can I get you— Damn it, [Name], did you have a rough night again?"
You winced at Wonyoung's words. Wonyoung worked at a local coffee shop, and as a good friend, you always came in to support her.
It's been a few days since you found Spider-Man on your balcony, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't excited. You stayed up a few nights waiting for Spider-Man to crash-land on you again. It wasn't anything romantic for sure, you were just interested in talking to him. The truth was, you stayed up most nights anyway. You stayed up most nights thinking about everything, unable to truly rest. If you were going to be restless, you might as well think about your new friend Spider-Man.
"The usual," you murmured to your friend, who hummed understandingly, despite you completely ignoring her question. You rubbed your eyes. "I'm so tired, Wonyoung."
Wonyoung's bright eyes ran over your figure: you were wearing sweats with a hoodie draped over your shoulders, as if you just woke up. She chuckled at you, before ringing you up. "We could go to the beach after my shift, if you want."
You groaned as you swiped your card. You didn't feel like doing anything, but when it was Wonyoung, it was hard to say no. "Fine."
You grinned lazily as she cheered, before you took a seat in the coffee shop, slumping over yourself as you waited for your coffee. You could hear some light jazz playing, but especially the laughter of Wonyoung as she charmed customers, and most importantly, the flagrant whispers of her coworkers.
There was always one downside of visiting Wonyoung while she worked: her coworkers, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, who just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend's best friends. And now as you tried to fight your tiredness, all you could hear now was their whispers. Their frantic whispers.
If you weren't literally about to fall asleep, pulling your hood over your head, you would have shot them a glare, maybe even text Wonyoung to tell them to shut up.
"....that's definitely his..." you could hear Jake whisper-yell.
"...ngwon's gonna blow his shit..... Hurry, call him!"
"—Shit, he's on his way already!"
Ding! The doorbell of the coffee shop rang, making everyone in the shop (including yourself) turn their heads. And lo and behold, standing at the doorway was none other than your ex-boyfriend.
You couldn't even bring yourself to care. You could hear his friends practically shouting in the back while your phone pinged a billion messages from Wonyoung, but you just continued to push your face into your arms, taking comfort in the hoodie that you had thrown on this morning.
You hoped that Jungwon didn't notice that you were here. Maybe that would be better for your mental stability.
"[N-Name]?" Sunoo's shaky voice called out from the counter, where Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jake liked to hang around. Your drink was ready. Finally.
Lifting yourself off of the cafe table, you trudged over to the counter, only a few feet away from the cash register. Where Jungwon was standing, getting ready to order. Which meant that he 100% saw you, and now he 100% knows that you're here.
Damn it. You really couldn't take seeing his face today. You fiddled with your hood, pulling it closer to you to hide your face.
"Here's your.... drink," Sunoo said, slowly and awkwardly, as if you were some alien. You rolled your eyes, fighting the horrible feeling of Jungwon's eyes boring into the back of your head, as you took your coffee from the counter.
As you read over the labeling and Sharpie'd name on your cup, you verified that this drink was indeed yours. And just as you were about to turn on your heel and get the fuck out of there (away from Jungwon, who was now 100000% staring at you), Jake just had to open his mouth.
"I-Isn't that Jungwon's hoodie?" Jake blurted, throwing an accusatory finger at the hoodie draped over your shoulders.
You didn't know what came first: Wonyoung's gasp from the cash register, you choking on your spit, or Jungwon spluttering from where he was. Sunoo and Sunghoon whacked Jake in the head, but the damage was already done.
Once again, for no apparent reason, you and Jungwon found each other. You couldn't fight the urge to turn over your shoulder and spot Jungwon, who was staring at you with big, shivering eyes, his ears red and his lips agape. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Your emotions were so erratic. Sometimes when you saw pictures of Jungwon you felt nothing, but now that he was in front of you, face to face, you wanted to scream and cry.
You looked down at the hoodie that enveloped you. Now that Jake mentioned it, yes, this hoodie was Jungwon's. In fact, you could remember how you acquired such a thing. One time, it was raining so Jungwon let you wear his hoodie, and you never gave it back. What once belonged to Jungwon was now yours, and you've made it such a normal part of your life that you forgot that it had ever been his.
This hoodie, having lived in your closet for months and months, smelled like your own laundry detergent. And as you brusquely walked past Jungwon, blinking back the tears that you hadn't even noticed were collecting in your eyes, you wished for something abnormal: you wished that this hoodie still smelled like Jungwon, even after all this time.
So that you could have something to remember him by.
Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath. Temptation was a work of sin, and unfortunately, it was not his fault that the devil was stronger than a man.
There were many reasons that Jungwon was so committed to keeping a distance from you. He wanted to respect your space, and he was dedicated to protecting you. But even more, there was an intimacy that was never speaking to you again. In his last act of love for you, Jungwon would grant you the peace that his presence could never give you. He hoped that his absence spoke of the words that he could never have said. And yet, as Jungwon sat on the ledge of some building, he watched the cars pass wistfully a few hundred meters below his feet.
In the daytime, he felt like he could deal with the guilt and loneliness. But at night, it was nearly impossible. It's been another week since Jungwon had uneventfully landed on your balcony, and you had requested that he, as Spider-Man, visit you.
And frankly, Jungwon wasn't going to visit you. Even if he promised you, he was so sure that he couldn't keep it. After all, he had a commitment. But when the summer air is so warm yet so unforgiving, sending hot beads of sweat running down Jungwon's face, the frustration and guilt festered, devouring Jungwon from the inside out. That was how Jungwon found himself only a few buildings away from your apartment. He teetered on the ledge. Half of him wanted so desperately to just swing onto your balcony again, to just see you again. But the other half of him couldn't stand putting you in harm's way any longer.
So imagine Jungwon's shame as he picked up his feet and swung by your apartment. All he wanted to do was check on you. He had good eyes, so hopefully he'd be able to catch a glimpse of you through your windows as he briefly came by. And yet, instead of finding you safe and sound through your bedroom window, what Jungwon saw from a distance was you, on your balcony, looking sad. Wistful, even. You had your arms over the railings, and even when he was afar, Jungwon could recognize any of your expressions, and this one, he could tell that you were crying.
His body moved faster than his mind, with zero hesitation, zooming right onto your balcony. Jungwon's mind was still racing, questions blurring through his mind, hesitating about what he should do. Why were you crying? Was it someone that made you feel this way? But his body knew his intentions better. His body knew the sorts of yearning that he had no chance of resisting. And just as swift as he came, Jungwon found himself breathing heavily as he landed back on the railing of your balcony.
"S-Spider-man?!" you sniffled. Under the dark sky, he could see the way your eyes lined with tears, your tearful eyes puffy and bloodshot. You quickly hid your face in your sleeve, turning your face away from him. "Wh—What are you doing here?"
"I..." Jungwon's mouth ran dry. He didn't have an answer for you. Seeing you like this made him feel on-edge, nervous even. He didn't know why he was here with you. He didn't know why his body forced him to keep crawling back to you. He didn't want to be here, it went against all instinct. He stared at the back of your head. "I'm— Um—"
You let out a loud, high-pitched sob, before you threw your arms around Jungwon's shoulders, burying yourself into his chest. Jungwon stiffened under your touch. It felt weird. He hadn't been close to really anyone at all, at least not physically. If it wasn't you that he was physically intimate with, he'd rather not have it at all. But even when it was you, intimacy felt so foreign, so lost. But as your choked sobs rung through the air, your arms holding onto him like he'd save you, Jungwon relaxed. Mixed in with the smell of the night air, you smelled like your usual peachy perfume. Your touch, just like he had remembered it, was soft. Kind.
Jungwon brought a hesitant hand up to the small of your back, in an attempt to quell your distress. Yet, he felt such a weird warmth as you clung onto him.
"I h—hate him, Spider-Man!" you cried, your hand gripping his forearm. "I hate him— so much."
And maybe if Jungwon was stronger than he was now, he would have just listened to you silently without any questions, patting your back and lending you a shoulder to cry on. But he wasn't.
"Who?" he breathed into your ear, his brows knitted together. That horrible gnawing feeling filled his stomach once again. He didn't want to know what your answer was, but that sickening curiosity was burning from the inside out. "Who do you hate?—Did you— Did you get hurt?"
You shook your head, looking up at the hero. The moonlight reflected off your eyes. You looked so pretty, even when you were crying. Jungwon's heart ached at the sight of your pained face. My baby, he thought. After all this time, you could commit all the grievances in the world, and if you just looked at him with your big, teary eyes, he would acquit you of all your crimes.
You tugged on his arm, your glossy eyes staring at him like he was some god, pulling him back into your room. And against all resolutions that Jungwon tried to make to himself, he followed you in anyway.
As your balcony door clicked shut, Jungwon watched as you pulled him onto your bed with you, pulling him as close as you could as you continued to cry, murmuring about how much you hated "him."
This time, Jungwon just let his eyes fall shut. He hadn't laid down in your bed in a while, and frankly, he thought your bed was more comfortable than his. With you so close to him, and his arms wrapped around you, for a split second, it felt like he was back together with you. It felt like another one of those nights where you'd cry into his arms about how stressed you were, and all he could offer up was his presence to console you.
"I know, I know," he gently whispered into your ears. You always loved it when he reassured you like that. He rubbed slow circles on your back, continuing to whisper soft reassurances into your ear, even if he knew that you couldn't hear him. "I know, love."
"I c-cant get over him," you lamented. At this point, Jungwon's chest was wet. "I don't know why I c-can't. I h-hate him so much."
Jungwon gulped as his gut twisted.
"Tell me," he rasped. He knew what your words meant. He knew better than anyone that you were talking about him, that it was him that you hated. But he needed to hear it from your lips first, to get real confirmation. Despite the weak feeling in his knees and the pang in his chest, he wanted to listen to you.
After all, he'd do anything to make you feel better, even if you didn't know it was him. And he knew how to do that exactly.
You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes, shaking your head profusely. "But i-it's pa—pathetic," you stammered, but when you could feel Jungwon's unwavering gaze on you, you gave in. Resting your cheek on the hero's shoulder, you spoke in a low, shaky voice. You told him everything— every thought and emotion that's been swirling your mind. You told him of how you still constantly thought about Jungwon, how you felt like in every crevice of your life he was there, how you've done everything you could to get over him with fruitless results. You cried and cried and cried. You detailed to him what types of restless nights you had, what kinds of thoughts swirled through your head whenever you thought about your ex.
"I miss him," you ended your tear-filled rant with. "I mi-miss him s-so much and I feel so—so d-dumb."
And if you weren't so caught up in your feelings, you would have noticed how the hero's body tensed with each word that fell from your lips.
A silence fell over you and Spider-Man, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, letting your bated breaths calm down with each hiccup. You let your heart rate slow down, as your eyes— sore from crying— rested. Against you, the hero was so... still. He was definitely breathing, but it was slow and tranquil. If you listened hard enough, you could hear his heart beat; weirdly enough, it was erratic and loud.
That's what Jungwon's heartbeat sounds like when he's excited, you thought, before shaking your head and pushing that thought into the back of your mind. The mere thought of Jungwon made your stomach churn. You didn't want to even entertain that thought.
"Spider-Man...." you began in a soft voice, your finger coming up to poke his masked face. No response. "Spider-Man, are you asleep—"
Suddenly, Jungwon jolted up from the bed, his voice ripping through the air: "Boo!"
You let out a loud shriek, jumping away from him, surprised. You stared at him for a few moments, before Jungwon bursted out into giggles. On your bed, you watched as the red-and-blue masked hero who had just tried to startle you attempted to conceal his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"S-Sorry—" his voice was shaky, trying so goddamn hard not to laugh. Airy laughs escaped his lips, filling the air with something that felt all too familiar.
Despite having just cried for what seemed like forever, you slapped his chest, your lips pulling up into a wobbly smile. Spider-Man's laughter was contagious, and even as you continued to lightly punch him, you couldn't help but let giggles fall from your own mouth.
"Sh-Shut up!" you said between laughs. Having enough, you reached for a stray pillow and threw it at him. "You're so annoying!"
You couldn't remember the last time you laughed like this with someone. In fact, perhaps if you weren't so busy beating Spider-Man up like your life depended on it, you would have noticed the way your beloved hero was watching you closely. Jungwon knew exactly how to get you to loosen up; and in this case, it was to do something so stupid and dorky that you had no choice but to laugh.
"Ow! Ow!" Jungwon squirmed like a spider that had just gotten hit by bug spray. He let you win, as now he was pinned down on the bed, with you smothering him with your pillows. "White flag—Ack!"
Your laughter rang through the room. You weren't even that strong, but Jungwon did not dare to use his own strength on you. That wouldn't be fair.
That's right, he thought. Forget about me. Forget about the pain, forget about everything that I've done to you. Your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched and your lips parted when you threw your head back and laughed. If he could preserve that laughter for the rest of his life, he would. Forget about me, baby.
"Jesus Christ, Spider-Man!" you snickered, as you held him down with a hand on his hard chest. "I thought you were stronger than this."
Jungwon's strong hand slid to wrap around your wrist. "You really wanna see strength?"
A weak yet sly grin spread across your face. You leaned down to him, so close that your noses touched. Almost purring,"Try me— Eek!"
That was all the confirmation he needed. In an instant, Jungwon flipped the two of you over, crashing into the soft plushness of your bed. This time, he was the one pinning you down. And while airy laughter fell from your lips, the surprise of Jungwon's outburst reducing you to giggles, Jungwon was distracted. You're just so pretty, so strikingly beautiful that he had no choice but to admire you.
And if Jungwon wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed the way that you stared at him owlishly, with a type of hunger and curiosity that was all too familiar. As if a lightbulb had switched on, your arms slithered up from under him to wrap around his neck. With glassy eyes and a girlish giggle, you gently pulled him toward your face.
Jungwon's body froze up as you plant a soft, tender kiss on his masked cheek, a spluttering sound coming from his mouth.
"Relax, silly," you rasped into his ear with a chuckle. Even with the mask, your fingers found their way to the crook between Jungwon's ear and jaw, delicately running your fingers over that spot and mindlessly caressing it— something that always made shivers roll down Jungwon's back. "You can save lives but you can't handle a girl kissing you?"
Jungwon's face felt hot. "Shut— Shut up!" That night, you eventually laughed yourself to sleep, and after tucking you in, Jungwon left with a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He hoped that he'd given you any type of emotional refuge, so that you would eventually forget the hurt and pain that he had caused you.
To be a girl, after a long week of stress, unloading your worries and the like in a nice steamy bath— Oh, that is the best thing any person could experience.
You relished in the warm solitude of your bathtub. You hummed along to the quiet music you liked to play when you bathed, the peachy bubbles and scent of your soap filling your senses. You relaxed with an "ahh" into the water. Tonight was going to be perfect. After this bath, you were going to do your skincare routine and lather yourself with your new yummy lotion. Then you'd go make yourself a late night snack. Then maybe you'd spend the night reading some manga, or watching some shows, or anything you wanted frankly.
You had worries: finding an internship, employment, boy troubles. But this was no time to care about them. You let your eyelids gently fall shut... and maybe if you weren't careful, you might... just... drift... off...
"Eep!" You're startled back into reality by the sound of a distant crash! You glance around your bathroom, clutching yourself. It didn't sound nearby, so you had nothing to worry about. You sunk into the water again, letting your tense muscles relax into the warmth. Your tired eyes fell closed again. And maybe this time.... you'd be permitted the peace... to just... drift... off...
Crash! You jolted up, your eyes shooting open. This time, this crashing sound was much louder, and appeared to be much closer. Following that outburst was the sound of rustling and scrambling, which (in your already paranoid state) confirmed your fears that whatever the cause was, it was too close to you.
Emboldened, you stepped out of your bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body tightly, before slipping your shower slippers on.
And maybe you're dumb. Really dumb. But you peaked your head out your bathroom door, eyes glazing over the hallway between your bathroom and kitchen. Everything seemed fine. You crept out of the bathroom. Your entire apartment was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Slowly, you made your way into your bedroom. It looked normal, not a single hair out of place. Nothing was wrong then.
Since you were already out of the bathroom, you should probably start dressing anyway. You loosened your grip around the towel, and just as the fabric fell from your chest—
"[N-Name]?!"
There had to be something psychological about the way bright red and blue were incredible at camouflaging, because you had not noticed the red and blue superhero perched at your window. And it seemed like he didn't notice you either, until now.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried. But it was too late. There you were, naked in all your glory and exposed entirely to the spider hero himself. You didn't know what was worse. The feeling of the cool air hitting your skin, sending goosebumps on your arms, or the feeling of Spider-Man practically ogling at you. It didn't seem to matter because the two of you stood like that: in silence, in complete and utter horror.
"I-I'm..." You've never seen Spider-Man more flustered, but if you weren't too busy trying to cover yourself up, scrambling for your fallen towel, you would have noticed the way the hero's hand shot up to clutch his face in embarrassment. A habit that you loved to see in your ex-boyfriend. "S... Sorr—"
"Get out!" you cried, clutching your towel so tightly as you began reaching for all of the pillows and plushes on your bed, hurling at the hero at full-force. Your face burned with embarrassment as you heaved. "Out! N-Now!"
Spider-Man simply stood there, stunned, which was weird considering that he should have a fast enough reaction time to stop you. Frustrated, you threw yourself on your bed, throwing the blanket over your naked body and pushing your face into the mattress, humiliated and flustered beyond belief.
"Get out!" you cried again, your eyes almost welling up with tears with how embarrassed you were. You felt so hot all over that you could probably melt. You hadn't felt this way— this flustered and embarrassed— in so long. You murmured, "What are you even doing here?!"
Finally breaking from his stupor, Spider-Man spluttered, "I-I just wanted to check up... on you."
You groaned from under the blanket, muffled, and that seemed to egg the hero on with a squeak. Words tumbling from his mouth like water, he squeals, "It seems like you're doing well! Youlookgoodasever—I mean— In all the years I've known you, you always look amazing— Like— Uhm— I— You're always—" he sucked in a deep breath, and you could hear how red his face was under the mask— "Beautiful."
There's a long silence, before Spider-Man nearly shouts, "Okay bye!"
And with that, he climbed out your balcony, and swung away. You stay where you are under the blanket all huddled up for a few moments, before you let out a giddy little chuckle. You flipped over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, before it hit you.
"Years?" you said aloud. Spider-Man said that you've been beautiful in all the "years" that he's known you.
You sat up. But you swore you only knew him for a few months.
Hm. Interesting.
Jungwon cursed under his breath. Fuck. He was in a pickle. After a few weeks in hiding, archvillain Baron von Fizzlebang was back for more, this time with more to show. It seemed like every time, he was getting progressively worse and worse. New gadgets, new costumes, new methods of entrancing people. First, Baron von Fizzlebang entranced a mob to rob a bank. Then, he controlled some elementary schoolers and tried to get them to walk into oncoming traffic (really evil of him). Most recently, the supervillain tried to possess the entire fire department and make them commit arson in an ironic turn of events. If it weren't for Jungwon's restless fighting, the entire city might have gone up in flames already.
Simultaneously, against his own better judgement, yet in alignment with his heart, Jungwon found himself intentionally coming to see you more. It's shameful that despite cutting you out of his life he still tried to keep you at an arm's reach. But oh, Jungwon was so greedy. Each time your face lit up when he appeared on your balcony left him eager for more. Every smile and little touch had him hungry. Hungry for more of you, hungry to keep you for himself, hungry to hide you from the world and selfishly have you all to himself. And the worst part was, your grief and sadness over civilian-Jungwon was slowly dissipating with time: you were reverting back to the you that he knew, not the sad, crestfallen version of you.
But, he had no time to think of that. Right now, Jungwon was beaten up pretty badly, resting atop the roof of a building and leaning against some structure there.
It's not easy to fight one Baron von Fizzlebang, when he's able to manipulate up to a hundred people to do his own bidding. Jungwon doesn't want to hurt the civilians under Baron von Fizzlebang's control, but how is he supposed to win at all if these civilians are being used to attack him?
One eye was incapacitated, with blood dripping down Jungwon's forehead and his lip bleeding. Even in the darkening night sky, Jungwon could tell that there were a few tears here and there on his hero costume, but the worst part was that Jungwon's right shoulder was most definitely out of commission.
Luckily, Jungwon got the victimized civilians to safety. Unluckily, Baron von Fizzlebang was still on the loose, pretty much unscathed. Jungwon could work under severe pressure, with great injuries too. But for some reason, he absolutely couldn't think straight as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder. He blinked his one working eye slowly, trying to see clearly, but there was too much blood coming from his head after getting slammed against a brick wall for him to get a clear view.
At the very least, Jungwon needed to locate where the villain went—
"Yoo-hoo!" a sing-songy voice boomed, and Jungwon whipped his pounding head around. "Spidey-Spidey!~"
Lo and behold, Baron von Fizzlebang was (for some reason) suspended in the air, completely uninjured, a stark difference from Jungwon's hunched-over, painful form. With his extravagant costume, he waved mockingly at Jungwon, a cackle spilling from him. "I'm back for more, Spidey. Are you?"
Jungwon's eyes narrowed, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he limped toward the villain. He sucked in a sharp breath. The blood from his bleeding lip tasted metallic on his tongue, but his physical pain mattered not— not when the livelihood and safety of the city was on the line because of this maniac.
"Yeah," Jungwon responded breathily, stumbling. "Come get me."
Much to Jungwon's chagrin, from Baron von Fizzlebang came some strange metal contraption. With big and long metal tentacle arms with grabby hands at the ends, Baron von Fizzlebang laughed maniacally as his new gargantuan device conjured a physical reaction out of Jungwon. Faster than Jungwon could move, the villain's metal arms snatched him up.
"Let me go—Ack!" Jungwon squirmed in the contraption's grasp.
"No," Baron von Fizzlebang said simply. "All you do is ruin my plans to take over this city!"
Jungwon cried in pain as the metal hands squeezed him tighter. The villain laughed again. "Have you ever had to experience someone try to ruin something you care about, Spider-Man?" Jungwon opened his mouth to choke a retort, but the Baron continued. "Or in your case, someone that you care about?"
Jungwon continued to squirm in the metal hands' grasp, the villain taking it as a sign to continue his villainous monologue.
"You don't think that I don't know you have a secret little girlfriend, right? She's the same one I claimed that one night at Bisco's." At the sound of that, Jungwon tensed up even more. No.... Don't tell me.."Maybe I should let this little spider go. To make you really feel my pain, why don't I go pay your little girlfriend a visit again."
"No!—" tore from Jungwon's throat, but it was too late. With panic filling his body, Baron von Fizzlebang's metal tentacles hurled him through the sky before the villain took off. Presumably to find you. And even though Jungwon was falling through the sky with an incapacitated eye and shoulder, all he could think about was you.
Every single fear and made-up scenario of you getting hurt or even worse, dying, as a result of Jungwon ran through his head in the milliseconds that he was in the air.
Just as Jungwon was about to slam against a sky-scraper, he shot a web to catch himself. His hands shook as he stabilized himself against another wall.
Dammit, dammit, dammit— I'm so fucking stupid— She's in danger now— Everything that he had feared was coming true, and it was all a result of Jungwon's selfishness and negligence and— Jungwon took a deep breath, not noticing that he had neglected to breathe as he spiraled. He shoved his face in his hands. Think, think, think. He had to do something.
He looked at his hands. He had to go find you, and warn you. Move you to safety, make sure you're somewhere safe where that maniac couldn't find you.
Even with all his injuries, nothing stopped Jungwon as he shot webs across the sky. With all the remaining strength in his body, and with all the power he could muster up, Jungwon flew across the sky to where he knew you'd be: in your apartment.
And just as he expected, you were in your room, peacefully listening to music and painting your nails. Usually, he'd be courteous and wait for you to welcome him in. But Jungwon had no time to waste: he crashed onto your balcony, practically busting into your room through the doors.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried, startled by his sudden entrance.
"You have to leave," Jungwon breathed with labored huffs. He clamored toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders. "I-I don't have time to explain—"
"What— What are you talking about?—"
Jungwon gripped your shoulders, the vehemence in his voice resounding as he desperately repeated, "You have to leave. It-It's not safe for you— I need you to leave and go somewhere sa—"
"Spider-Man," you said firmly. Jungwon breathed shakily, swallowing down hard. He shook his head. It felt like the world had fallen into his shoulders.
"Please, [Name]," he pleaded. Even with a mask, you can hear his sheer desperation. "Please listen to me this time."
You stared at him, with a curious yet concerned look, like you were studying him. “Please,” Jungwon said again, his voice high-pitched and cracking. His grip on you loosened, but his head hung low.“Please.”
You kept your eyes stuck on him, but Jungwon couldn’t focus. All he could think about was how you could die. Everything hurt, and yet nothing did at the same time. The mere thought of something even worse happening to you made Jungwon’s gut twist, the oncoming fear so great that it effectively numbed everything in him.
“I can’t— I can’t lose you—“
There was something unsettling about you that Jungwon never figured out. You’re sensitive and soft, but strong-willed and stern. But you’re also a level of smart that Jungwon couldn’t understand.
Which was why he couldn’t possibly understand why you grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him into you, and slammed your lips against his. You let your lips stay on his for a little bit, but before you could pull away, all the hunger and fear consumed Jungwon whole. His large hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Greedily, like a starved man, Jungwon hungrily kissed you back, holding you tightly as his breathing picked up.
Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or the pain and delirium, or just Jungwon’s fear, but he didn’t even think about what he was doing. Your lips against his, your body pressed against him, and your scent overtaking his mind— it all made it impossible for him to stop.
He muttered your name against your lips, grasping you like you’d disappear any minute. Your soft body on him felt heavenly, as he drank you in. Everything felt hot and everything ached, but even with his mask on, it felt so delicious. He heaved as your lips moved against his. A choked breath and whimper escaped his lips as you slid tongue into his mouth, your hands slithering up his chest and wrapping around his neck, the way that he always liked it. Almost like you knew how to make him feel good.
The kiss halted to a slow stop, with the two of you gently pulling away. And Jungwon, too dazed, didn’t know what to expect next— and he definitely didn’t expect the next words that came out of your mouth.
"Jungwon," you hummed against his lips, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't read. Jungwon's heart plummeted to his stomach, shaky eyes widening.
"Wh-What—" he began, but you brought a finger up to his lip, hushing him. No way. There's no way that you knew it was him all along—
"You need to calm down, Jungwon," you said as you pulled away from him, eyes glued to his masked face. You took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand slowly, the way that always helped calm him down. "I know you. You're spiraling. We can't do anything if you're panicking. Deep breaths."
"I don't— I don't understand," Jungwon whispered, his strong body still. Had you known it was him all along? And if you did, why didn't you say or do anything? Did you find him pathetic? "How did you know?"
You blinked at him slowly, before a bashful grin pulled onto your face. You reached your hand out to him, your palm finding itself on his cheek. In a moment of instinct, Jungwon leaned into your touch.
"That's how I knew," you breathed. Your lithe fingertips then prodded at the crook between his jaw and his ear, the sensitive spot, and just as you expected, Jungwon shuddered. Your fingers traced down his jaw to his neck, pressing on the tender spot in the middle of his neck. Much to Jungwon's personal mortification, he let out a gasp, and when you leaned closer to his neck— so close that he could feel your breath on him— Jungwon let out a soft sound and shivered. Your lip grazed against the covered skin of his neck, watching him intently as you earn a sensitive whimper from him.
"What— What are you doing—" Jungwon was cut off again by your lip pressing against his jugular, at the spot that never failed to make him cry out in pleasure. Jungwon's ears burned, but the blood rushing through his body made him feel hot all over. He leaned his head back, eyes falling shut.
"I know you, Jungwon." Your voice was low, almost like a purr. Your hands continued to run over his jaw and neck, hooking onto the edge of his mask and uncovering the honey tan skin of his neck. You pressed your lips against his exposed skin, another gasp falling from his lips. "You're not good at hiding anything. And you're not a convincing liar."
You pulled his mask up, exposing his lower jaw and lips. When he muttered your name startled, you pulled the entire mask off.
Lo and behold, just as you had expected, it was Jungwon Yang. You had your suspicions, and when you made them known to him you were certain that you were right. And yet, you're still taken aback when it's really Jungwon behind the mask. His overgrown blonde hair falling over his eyes, his cat-like eyes staring at you with a mix of fear, shame, and desire, his jaw that had gotten stronger— you drank in every last bit of it.
"Son of a bitch," you murmured under your breath.
Jungwon hadn't noticed the way his chest pounded and how his breathing became erratic, nor did he notice that he was now blinking back tears, his chest heaving. "I—I'm sorry—" he struggled to get out, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Oh— I'm so— I"m sorry—"
He couldn't tell if you were angry, or disgusted, or both... because despite the unreadable look on your face, you still grabbed his face, slamming your lips against his once more.
Your fingers brusquely grab at his hair, tangling themselves in his grown-out blonde locks. This time, you're the hungry one. Your hands slid down his chest again, grasping onto his strong, toned arms, and running your hands all over him. Your lips moved surly against his, as if you hadn't been fed in days.
"You're a jackass," you rasped against him, and yet you kept kissing him like he'd disappear. "Fucking jackass." Jungwon tried to murmur apologies, but you kept kissing him, shutting him up. You pushed him against your bed slowly as your lips moved, so that he had no choice but to fall back onto it.
With Jungwon's back now pressed up against your bed, you were on top of him. Your hands roamed his body, and Jungwon couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut.
"I-I'm sorry," he rumbled, but with you on top of him, lips all over him, he couldn't do much but gasp and squirm under your touch. "I-I didn't mean to—"
Boom! In the distance, a massive explosion sound careened through the air. You and Jungwon, both alarmed, froze in your position. Even with you filling his senses, Jungwon's immediate thought is simple: he is Spider-Man.
Jungwon felt your body tense against his, with fear painted on your face. His body felt hot all over, the excitement still pulsing through his veins and desperate need for you still clouding his mind. But a trembling, paralyzed you was enough to pull him away from himself, and force him to focus.
In one fell swoop, Jungwon pulls the two of you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly, yet gently. Ignoring your questions, he felt around for his discarded mask, before shooting a web from his fingers and pulling it to him.
"You have to go," he said to you, his hands tightening around your waist. Jungwon watched as your brows crashed together, your expression morphing from bewilderment to hurt, and then anger.
"What are you— Jungwon—" Jungwon ignored you, quickly searching around your room. He took a jacket from your closet (which was definitely his), before draping it around your shoulders.
"I'm serious," he said, his voice cracking with earnestness. "I mean it, [Name]. You have to go."
It was your turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief. "Where would I even go? I don't know why you're saying this—"
Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, before he huffed. "Go to Jake's."
You're about to scoff again, but Jungwon— the most tender person you've ever met— sent you a stern look that shuts you up.
"Tell him that I sent you," Jungwon instructed. "Tell him to keep you safe. And text me when you're there...." the boy trails off, awkwardly scratching his head, "If I'm not blocked, y'know.... Or just have Jake text me."
You stared at him in silence, blinking slowly, in an attempt to assess his face. Finally, you sigh, your face looking sad. "Okay."
Jungwon helped you collect your things, the two of you engulfed in a silence, with nothing filling your apartment but the ambient sound of your footsteps and breaths. That is, until it was time for you to go.
"I-I think I should go now," you said shakily, your back turned to Jungwon as you reached for your front door. Jungwon solemnly nodded, wistfully staring at you as he fiddled with his mask; his face was still uncovered, making it difficult to hide his concern, yet he didn't have the courage to put his mask back on. Not when you were here. And Jungwon would have let you go like that, alone into the night, if it weren't for the sound of your sniffles.
"Hey, hey," he called out to you, reaching out to you and taking hold of your shoulder. His brows furrowed. "[Name], what is it?"
You sniffled, your breath getting caught in your throat, and it was clear now that you were crying. However, you just shook your head, your back still turned to him.
"Baby," Jungwon said again. "Baby, please tell me. What is it? Why are you crying?"
The sound of Jungwon's voice made you tense up again. You let out a choked sob, before you sucked in a sharp breath. "Th-That."
Jungwon reached for your face, tilting your chin so that you would face him, but you wouldn't budge. "Talk to me. Please."
"That!" you cried. You sucked in another sharp breath as you threw your face into your palms. "You— You l-left me the first time... and— and now you're leaving a-again."
Jungwon's chest ached, and in a moment of remorse and desire, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you into an embrace with you pressed against his chest. The way you always liked it. He pressed his cheek against your head, his own tears welling up in his eyes as you sniffled and cried.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. He knew he hurt you, it was nothing new to him. But just knowing that never made the regret feel any better. He kissed your head. "I'm so sorry."
There's another explosion in the distance, and Jungwon's hold on you tightened. "Please. I'll make it up to you. Please just go this time."
You shook your head. "I—I don't get it. J-Jungwon, I don't g-get it—"
In your state, there was no way you'd make it to safety in time. And Jungwon was a fool for thinking that you could, not after opening up the wounds you were trying to heal from. Jungwon pressed one more kiss on your head. He hauled you into his arms, ignoring your protests, only saying, "Wrap your arms around me."
Jungwon wished he had more time. He wished he could sit you down and explain everything. But there was no time, and he had to make sure you were safe first: he'd like to do it himself. All the injuries from earlier had been healed for the most part, just enough that he had strength.
"Hold on tight, baby," he said in your ear before putting his mask on, and shooting a web out your window. Jungwon figured it was your first time soaring with Spider-Man, because you let out a squeal, hiding your face in his neck.
"Jungwon!" you cried, your eyes still lined with tears. "P-Please, I'm scared—"
Jungwon chuckled, but complied with your request, taking less risky swings. And when he arrived at Jake's apartment, he simply forced his friend's window open. Much to his luck, Jake was already there.
"S-Spider-Man?!" Jake gawked. It wasn't every day that the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man showed up at your window. Then, his eyes fell on you. "[N-Name]?!"
Gently, Jungwon set you down. "Jungwon's request: Keep her safe."
Jake, utterly baffled, opened his mouth to speak. But like a little boy (quite literally) seeing his favorite super-hero for the first time, Jake nodded dutifully, his eyes comically filling with stars. "Yes sir!"
Jungwon nodded satisfied. He knew he could count on Jake. As Jungwon readied himself to jump out the window, he's stopped by your soft voice.
"G-Good luck..." you murmured, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't die... please."
Jungwon couldn't help but grin. "Of course."
And with that, he swung away, ready to kick ass.
You're already asleep when Jungwon finds you back at Jake's house. He felt a little bad about placing the burden of you on Jake, but Jungwon couldn't care more about that when your life was on the line. Jungwon, in his hero form of course, left a note for Jake on the kitchen counter, as he slowly wrapped his arms around your sleeping figure.
You're left sleeping on Jake's couch, with a throw blanket awkwardly draped over you. He appreciated Jake's efforts, grinning softly as the way you stirred in your sleep. It's near dawn, and Jungwon couldn't ignore the ache in his body. But even so, the way your eyes were puffy, your cheeks stained lightly with tears made his chest ache more than his body did.
As quietly as he could, Jungwon took you in his arms, and took you back to his apartment (he didn't have the keys to your apartment, and he didn't want to make you angrier by breaking in). Helicopters were still flying overhead, the sound of police sirens below filling the air. Jungwon's eyes twitched with tiredness, his straining muscles nearly giving out. The city was asleep, and yet it was still functionally cleaning up the mess from earlier.
Speaking of, that son of a bitch Baron von Fizzle-dick or whatever was now in police custody. Jungwon was too exhausted to remember the details, but it was a long and tiring fight. One that was painful.
As he swung through the sky, Jungwon couldn't forget the fight. He was hit pretty badly, almost nearly stabbed in the chest. His entire body was in pain, and if it weren't for the precious you in his arms, Jungwon thought he would collapse mid-air. The feeling of the insurmountable physical agony that that villain inflicted on him was definitely one for the books. Jungwon could still feel the blood dripping down his back. But what was even worse were the things Baron von Fizzlebang had said. The threats he made, the words he said: the villain, and apparently, all the villains in the city, via their underground network, seemed to know you by name. They knew you because you were a soft spot for Spider-Man. It terrified him that now you had a target on your back. He cursed himself for letting himself get comfortable, for endangering you in the process. Even if he won the fight now, Jungwon couldn't forget the fear.
As he landed on his window, Jungwon slowly cracked it open, supporting both you and himself as he brought the two of you into his apartment. He placed you down on his bed, pulling his comforter over you. He watched as you snuggled into his bed, a satisfied murmur falling from your lips. You looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Jungwon could forget all the pain he felt.
Jungwon looked down at his hands. Ripped gloves, blood-stained palms... will it ever go away?
He pulled away from you, about to make his way to his bathroom. He ought to wash the blood off his hands. The night was at its peak, the dreariest that it had ever been. He didn't know what time it was— he lost track of that a long time ago— but all he knew was that it was dark outside. He better get some sleep too. But as he pulled away from you, he felt a few fingers weakly grip his arm. He froze.
"Jung... won..." you murmured. Your eyes were shut, and your voice sounded dreamy.
"I'm here," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't realized it, but his voice broke. Really, all he felt like doing was crying.
"Don't leave," you mumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll do.... do anything..." you drew on. "Just... don't go."
"Oh, baby—" And with that Jungwon broke, the hot tears he hadn't even realized he were holding in spilling. He pulled on his mask. He dropped to his knees, resting his head on the bed beside you. "I... I never meant to. I never wanted to leave you—"
You hummed, murmuring something incoherent. "Stay."
Jungwon let out a shaky breath. "I will— I really want to— Please, let me—"
"Jungwon," you said, rather firmly. You still had your eyes shut.
"I'm here, baby." Jungwon sniffled, swiping the back of his ragged hand to wipe his nose. "I'm not gonna go— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"
"In the... morning," you whispered. Before Jungwon could ask, you continued. "Talk in the morning."
Jungwon's voice broke again. "W-What?"
Your hand reached out for him again, this time falling onto his disheveled head. Jungwon nearly flinched at the feeling of your hand running through his hair, but instinctively he leaned into your touch. For a few moments, your fingers ran through his blonde locks, such a foreign feeling and yet a welcome one. Jungwon let his eyes shut, and they burned as his lids fell shut.
Your voice is quiet, and Jungwon is almost certain you're awake now. "Jake told me some things. I put two and two together."
"Really?" Jungwon, too tired to be mad. "Was it bad?"
You only hummed, giving him a classic nonresponse. Your fingers continued through his hair. "Go to sleep now."
"But—"
You hushed him, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "I love you."
Jungwon was stunned, but it felt so natural as, "I love you, too," tumbled from his lips.
There's a warmth that spreads across his chest, reassuring and comforting. But yet, so deeply harrowing, and so deeply frightening. He's a man of a thousand words and complex ideas, and you knew it, so you hushed Jungwon before he could continue, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "We'll talk in the morning."
Jungwon opened his mouth to protest. But as your fingers ran through his hair, he couldn't help the satisfying chills that ran down his spine. And everything hurt, and it hurt so bad that it was unbearable and Jungwon felt like he couldn't take it.
But your touch was so soft and familiar, Jungwon felt like.... for a second... he could maybe... fall into your touch... and just... take... it... easy...
You chuckled softly. "You're not alone. I'll carry your burden with you."
It's his turn to hum, nearly satisfied. As he drifted off into a deep slumber, his troubles melting away into the palms of your hands, there's only one last thought in Jungwon's head.
Maybe there will be a new day tomorrow, and hopefully, he won't be alone when the day breaks.
you really don’t know how it happened. one moment you were asking your sweet boyfriend to take pictures of you on your new camera and the next he has you pinned down, skirt tossed up, with his face buried in your cunt.
“nghh, y-yun please!”
jake peers up at you from between your thighs, his fluffy brown hair a tangled mess from your fingers and his big pointy nose glistening from your heavenly juices. he only groans in response, his focus on your throbbing clit that he is currently suckling between his plump lips, causing you to thrash beneath his grasp.
“please what, bunny?” his slender fingers tug your panties farther to the side, granting him more access to your needy cunt. “ya keep beggin’ but not telling me what for, hm?” he hums into your folds, the tip of his skilled muscle dragging down from your sweet bundle of nerves towards your entrance without breaking eye contact.
“mm p-please i. . . i want you inside,” you whine out pathetically, covering your flushed face in embarrassment which only makes jake chuckle lightly in response at your cuteness. his eyes flicker towards the digital camera propped against the nightstand, the red dot flashing at you almost tauntingly.
his gaze wanders up with a thoughtful expression, lips curled in a small pout — but you could already tell he was merely pretending to consider your request.
“nah, i have a better idea.”
“fuck— fuck! hold still babydoll,” jake pants as his thick, veiny cock disappears into the makeshift hole he ripped in the bottom of your little panties. the large print of his shaft bulging through the soaked thin fabric from your mixed arousal.
his red, weeping tip catches against your clit on every upward stroke, making you writhe beneath him and cry out borderline pornographic moans as the room fills with the obscene sound of wet skin rubbing together. your poor swollen, lips hugging the underside of his shaft so perfectly while he continues his assault between them.
jake runs his fingers through the damp strands of his hair, pushing it back as his free hand brings the camera up towards your fucked out face. the bright flash from the camera making you squint.
“smile, my pretty girl. . .” he cooes, before lowering the lens down to your joined areas molding and squelching together.
you are so slick that your panties have practically become a second skin, sticking to you in a way that allows for jake to see the outline of your puffy lips through the material as he slides his cock through the tight pocket he’s created, glans rubbing between your smooth folds so deliciously.
“jakey. . . ah- put your cock in my pussy please,” you plead.
“shh, be a good girl and take what i give you, angel,” he taps your lips with his middle and ring fingers, signaling for you take them into your mouth as he brings the camera back up to your face to capture the way your damp, doe eyes look up at him so innocently and drools slips from the corner of your lips as it’s stuffed full.
“fuck— you are beautiful, all fucking mine.” he turns the camera lens towards himself and flashes it a boyish grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he angles it to catch both your spread silhouette and his face perfectly.
he dips his head, lips latching onto the soft peaks of your breasts, a soft, wet popping sound emitting in the space as he lets each of them go.
you only moan in response, unable to form any coherent words as you are overwhelmed by all of the sensations he provides. you instinctively tilt your hips upwards in attempt for the ridge of his cockhead to catch against your creamy, ringed entrance on his downward stroke. a small whimper escapes when you succeed, feeling the tip sink in ever so slightly.
he quickly pulls away with a hiss, grabbing your face with his free hand while the camera stays focused on his cock teasing your pussy. “say it.”
he leans down to lick the hot tears streaming down your cheeks due to the pent up pleasure and frustration from his teasing. jake crashes his lips against yours in a salty kiss, his tongue dragging across your teeth hungrily. “mmph— all yours,” you moan back into his lips.
“yeah, you are,” he moans, jaw slack as his grip on the camera tightens a fraction while he fucks his cock between your folds. it’s become such a sticky mess that he slips out every now and then. his relentless press against your clit makes the coil in your belly unwind fairly quickly. “cum for me, yeah?”
his words send you over the edge as your walls clench around nothing and a gush of thin clear juices seep from your cunt, coating his dick.
“s-shit baby! fuckfuck— ‘m gonna fuckin nut!”
you gasp when you feel the warm splatters of his sticky semen spurt across your folds, the milky cream slowly oozing down your slit and out of the hole from your ruined panties. his hips roll forward slowly, body twitching as his balls empty his load all over your labia, which are slightly spread open like a pretty little flower from the shape of his cock molding them that way for so long.
jake smacks his teeth with a low tsk. biting his lip until he tastes blood as he grabs ahold of his heavy, throbbing cock and smears his hot seed along the mushroom tip. he nudges the head between your lips and drags downward until he finally dips inside of your aching hole, which swallows him up greedily.
the initial stretch of his thick cockhead entering your warm pussy makes your back arch of the bed and your toes curl in satisfaction. he moans at the warm envelope from your cunt. his eyebrows knit together as he slowly fucks himself as well as his seed deep within your gummy tunnel.
“ohmygod yes! baby— t-thank you!” you cry out, eyes rolling back.
“fuckin’ cockdrunk,” he laughs, stroking half of his length inside of you at cruel pace before bottoming out until his deflated balls rutt against your ass, “this tiny cunt is all f’ me, hm?” he thrusts slowly, dragging his length up and down your velvety walls.
jake only continues to praise you through strokes, being sure to spear against that spongey patch and dragging another messy orgasm from you. he follows, pulling his hips back slightly so only the tip remains as he pumps hot cum at the entrance of your pussy.
“haa-ah, ngh n-no more jakey,” you whine, hips still rolling to meet his thrusts despite yourself.
he chuckles, littering soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose and then lips until he notices a white frothy ring around his shaft. finally, he withdrawals with a wince, his softening cock slipping out with a soft, wet pop.
jake spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and brings the camera closer to witness the fresh creampie he delivered as it slowly dribbles out from between your swollen lips and down your ass. he watches as your hole opens and closes forcing a glob of love milk out when he commands you to push more.
“mm, good girl. fuuuck baby— you’re stuffed so full like a pastry. thats so hot, can’t wait to beat my cock to this later. my personal little pornstar.”
ParadoXXX
Ship: Toxic BestFriend!Sunghoon x ToxicBestFriend!Reader
Description: You and Sunghoon are the most toxic best friends imaginable. The possessiveness, the constant arguments, the whole package. But why were you both so jealous when you weren’t even dating?
Warnings: HardDom!Sunghoon, Brat!Reader, BratTamer!Hoon, Dirty Talk, Sadism/Masochism, BDSM, Hate Sex, Double Fingering (Hehehe), Orgasm Denial, Edging, Punishment, Spanking, Slapping, Degradation/Humiliation, Overstimulation, Choking, Minor Cucking? You'll see (Not what you think), Praising, Pussy Slapping, Masturbation, Love Making, Slut Shaming (Sunghoon receiving), Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Extremely Toxic Friendship/Relationship!!!! Yandere themes from both characters, extremely unlikeable (unless you're into that sort of thing) Reader!!, Best Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Obsession, Weed
Word Count: 23.1k
A/N: This was the original idea of Deal With It/And Find Out, but had made a lot of changes with the characters to make them more palatable and to test out the waters. These characters lean far more in depth with the toxic dynamic I originally had in mind. It was inspired by the video game The Coffin of Andy and LeyLey. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it! Alternate BTS Jungkook version can be found as Mind Games by @littlemisskookie
There's an old Greek myth that explains why people are drawn to each other, always trying to find the one, their perfect fit.
Long ago, people were not in the forms they know today. Rather, they were attached back to back, never even facing each other, but could feel the other with every move they made. They could be two men, two women, a man and a woman, or a myriad of other combinations. They were always two, and at the same time one. They had four arms, four legs, two heads. An amalgamation of flesh and limbs, moving as one, a partner connected to them in every sense of the word. They could never leave each other's sides, and they would always know each other's souls. They were powerful, beautiful beings, who had to be punished for their hubris, as stories of humanity often go. The gods separated them in half, dividing the limbs from eight to four, the heads from two to one.
Forever, humans were destined to search for the soul who was once tethered to their own, their missing piece.
A human without their soulmate wasn't truly human yet at all, not in the same, completed sense they were before. It's what drives us to search for them without ever being told to, that has us brush paths with other minds and other beings until we find the familiar touch we ached for all along, without ever even realizing it.
Most people were lucky to meet their soulmate by the time they were in their 30s. Others found theirs by the time they were middle aged. Some never found theirs at all.
You were luckier than most, having found the one when you were all but five.
You could barely even recall the memory. Not what you said, not what he said, it was all a blur. All you remembered was the moment your eyes met his, and how every atom in your body was drawn to him, knowing that this was the person you had spent every previous life searching for. And now he had practically fallen into your lap.
He had known it, too. He knew no matter what you did, no matter what came between you, he was yours.
Your parents weren't around much when you were growing up, and when they saw you attached to the hip with the neighbor boy, they figured he had it covered. "Sunghoon will take care of you," they had said, not wanting to deal with whatever trouble you had caused back when you were still seeking their affection. As if it were actually worth something. "You're his problem."
Perhaps you took it a bit too much to heart.
When you'd get picked on during recess he was the one who stood up to your bullies. (Well, he tried.) Sometimes they'd retaliate, their aggression being redirected from you to your poor friend. (He'd still have to fight, because you got in a lot less trouble when you used your hands rather than whatever was sharpies nearby, which was your usual move.) It was usually you who started it in the first place, too. If Sunghoon didn't get there in time to step between you, however, it often ended up worse, with him tagging along as you were dragged to the principal's office for whatever nefarious scheme you had cooked up. You expected him to come with you each time it happened, you didn't even have to ask. You always got everything you wanted, especially from him. He'd sit with you in every detention you received even if he didn't do anything wrong. He'd always apologize on your behalf to whoever you pissed off that day with your abrasiveness and foul mouth. When he got his first part time job, much of his tiny paychecks were spent on taking you out to eat and buying you gifts when he happened to piss you off— which was a lot.
A part of Sunghoon acknowledged you were a burden— something you would accuse him of thinking over and over again but he'd never admit. (At least, not out loud.) Great emphasis had been put on the fact that he was expected to stay by your side through anything. He was supposed to be your protector, your mentor, your best friend since birth. Given that he was the one born a few weeks earlier, he was put in charge of your well-being. It's not like your folks really wanted to parent anyway, too busy booking cruises and leaving the responsibility on Sunghoon’s shoulders. His parents gave less of a shit about it than yours did. They were to preoccupied with image, a large part of it involving your futures. They'd coo and awe at the idea of the two of you growing up and getting married, so much so that you yourself proclaimed it as fate when you two were all but five.
Sunghoon’s always been expected to spend his entire life with you.
You were constantly getting in trouble though, refusing to make serious connections with anyone else because you had him. You always had him. Any text you sent him and, no matter how busy, he was at your place within the hour. You were his problem to fix, over and over again, no matter what prior engagements he had planned to spend away from you. It's not like you ever wanted him to be away from you, though. He really was your only friend, or at least the only one you actually liked. Eventually he was able to convince you to at least pretend to be friends with others, for appearances' sake. He thought a bit of feminine influence could do you some good, and to an extent you did. You weren't exactly fond of the new "friends" you had to make, however. You pretty much openly disdained everyone except for Sunghoon.
Though sometimes you openly hated him too.
Especially when his attention was directed anywhere other than you. You'd scoff and have an attitude whenever he went out with fellow classmates at university, and throw a major bitch fit if it happened to be a girl. Any chick Sunghoon so much as mentioned would have you seeing red.
What could he possibly need her for any way? Was she just another one of the sluts he kept on the side that he thought you didn't know about? After all, how could you not hear about it when your "friends" have been telling you rumors about your best friend since high school? What did those cunts have that you weren't providing for him? Were they just another tool for him, the way your friends were for you? It's not like he could connect with any of them, not the way he does with you.
You were born with an innate corruption that never seemed to go away. From a spoiled toddler, trouble maker kid, rebellious teenager, and now bitchy adult, you never quite found yourself able to relate to the people around you. They were all so fucking boring and stupid, anything they had to offer simply coming off as dull to you. You didn't need any of these dimwits, their fake smiles and false concern. Sunghoon was all you needed.
You knew Sunghoon saw the darkness in you. The way he'd give you a glare before speaking to whatever teacher was reprimanding you. The way he told you "Don't." at times when you barely opened your mouth, knowing exactly what you were thinking and what you were about to say, and that the results would be calamitous at best. The exasperation in his voice when he had to diffuse whatever situation you caused. The annoyance in his tone when you'd spam him with calls or texts when he wasn't answering. Whenever he called you a psycho bitch when you were yelling at him about wanting to fuck whatever girl happened to approach the two of you that day. He wasn't blind to it— he bore witness to everything. He had to watch and study your every move for years, because he knew if he kept his eyes off of you for even a second, he'd face the consequences one way or another.
Sometimes you wondered why he stayed. Was it just because he was expected to by your parents? Surely he would've ditched you as soon as the two of you became adults. Did he love you, despite everything you constantly put him through? He always seemed so put out though when you'd interrogate him on that type of answer, asking if he loved his "new girlfriend" (latest fuck) more than you, if she was prettier than you. The answer was always no. But then again, Park Sunghoon was always a big fat liar, so how could you ever trust him?
You came to the conclusion that whatever sinister wickedness you possessed, he did too. Maybe he wasn't as bad as you, but he was also far better at hiding it. Some twisted link the two of you shared kept you unable to let go of each other.
That didn't stop you from worrying over that exact thing, though, every minute of every day.
No matter how many times Sunghoon assured you he'd never leave you, you never seemed to fully believe him. It's been that way well over twenty years now, and Sunghoon is beginning to suspect it'll be a permanent fixture of his life.
Sunghoon wondered himself sometimes why he stayed with you. You were a total conniving bitch, constantly manipulating him into doing what you want and throwing tantrums when you weren't his absolute top priority. God forbid he openly date another girl. He knew you weren't completely stupid— he was messy at times. He'd slip up and something would throw a wrench in his plans despite him usually thinking three steps ahead. Better than the impulsive streak you bore. Still, he made an effort to hide any of his secret relationships from you. Even when the girls begged and insisted on making things official, Sunghoon had to tell them otherwise. Over and over again they'd ask him to pick them over his best friend, and every time it guaranteed a fast exit for him. His answer was always the same and unwavering. He was unable to commit to any woman, knowing your reaction to any girl becoming an even temporary part of his life would be disastrous. Was sex really worth facing your wrath?
A small, meek part of him was scared you'd actually leave him.
The fear may be irrational, but it's one he's always been anxious of. He used to be terrified about you getting expelled and being sent to another school away from him, out of his sight. He didn't even want you to spend detentions alone, afraid you'd make things worse for yourself without him there. God, the amount of shit he had probably unknowingly saved you from. What if one day you piss of the wrong person and are taken away from him forever? What if you went to jail because of some dumb shit you pulled? He wouldn't even be able to stay inside with you, penitentiaries often being divided by sex.
You were always his responsibility, and though it has been a burden on his life for as long as he could remember, he couldn't stand the thought of you being anyone else's. You were his. His problem. Made for him. He had always known it in his bones.
He'd have to push down the deeper recesses of that thought, however, reminding himself the two of you literally grew up together your entire lives. You were like a sister to him— or as close as he'd ever get to one. Sunghoon was constantly reminded of the fact by family, friends, and peers. "They're not like that, they're practically related," people would say when others would question how close the two of you were. "They're basically brother and sister." Something in his stomach churned whenever he heard that, but he knew why it was said. He practically raised you. Hell, he's still teaching you how to behave. He couldn't possibly allow himself to see you that way. He'd stick his dick in whatever he could to make sure of it.
No matter how much you'd try to tempt him.
You'd make teasing remarks and joke about the concept of you two jumping in bed together, much to his (mock) disgust.
"I hope you're not planning on going out in that," Sunghoon warned, flipping channels through your TV as you pranced about shorts that tested his patience.
"Why? Don't think they look good on me?" you said playfully.
"No," he deadpanned, not reacting to your (cute) angry pout. "They're indecent."
"Would they look better on the floor, you think?" you teased.
Sunghoon’s ears burned at that, but he kept his eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to look at your smug face should you interpret his expression for flustered. "Quit embarrassing yourself and go put on actual clothes."
It was your turn to become unnerved this time, your face heating up in both agitation and embarrassment as you scoffed at Sunghoon’s words. "Fine!" you huffed, trying to ignore the all too common twist in your chest at the rejection. Why should you feel so defeated? It's not like you had any hope of a different response... right? Sunghoon’s always acting disgusted when you make jokes like that. He wasn't your boyfriend, and clearly he never would be. He saw you as his best friend, basically his sister. Never anything more.
But he was so much more to you.
He was your birthright, your possession. Yours. Your Hoonie, no matter how often he reminds you to stop calling you by that stupid childhood nickname. Yours. And yours alone.
No matter what whore he ended up taking to bed, he'd always end up kicking them out and going to you in the morning. No matter what psychotic argument you started, how much you'd push his buttons, and how much you'd push the limit, he stayed.
He may yell back. He may put you in your place the way no one else would be able to. He may quell your bratty attitude and bring you back down to Earth even in your bitchiest attitudes.
No matter how much you pushed it though, he stayed.
Though you were so, so scared that one day you were going to take it to far and drive him away for good.
To a certain degree you were self aware of your own behavior. You were exhausting to put up with, and there was a reason beyond your own stubbornness that you only had Sunghoon. You couldn't help it, though. Sometimes the resentment and fire would just build up in you and explode with no warning at all.
Today was one of those days.
You yanked Sunghoon’s headphones off his head, startling and angering him as his game was interrupted. He yelped and glared at you, mouth open to scold you and ask what the fuck you thought you were doing. That is, until he saw what was in your hand, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
You wore a sneer of absolute disgust as you held up the pair of panties between two fingers, dangling it as far as you could away from you and into his space. The rage permeated off of you in an intimidating aura, sending a chill down Sunghoon’s spine as you glowered down at him in his gaming chair.
"Found this buried in your couch cushions," you growled in an accusatory tone, tossing them in the trash can by his desk.
Sunghoon rose from his chair, leaving his game unattended to. "It's not—"
"What, were you fucking another one of your whores right before I came in? Is that way you didn't have time to clean your disgusting couch?" You wiped your hand across your shirt, as though trying to get off any germs that had transferred from the fabric. "Can't believe you let me sit on that thing after you defiled it. Fucking gross."
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, knowing already where this was going. It was a fight that has been rehashed to the death any time you find out a woman has so much as stepped foot in his apartment. "I don't get what the big deal is."
"The big deal is I had to sit on a place where your nasty ass fucked some slut!" You exclaimed, eyes narrowing. "Fucking gross, Park. Can't keep your dick in your pants? You just have to nail half the city for, what, your STD collection?"
"I use protection, stop throwing such a bitch fit," Sunghoon snapped back, irritated with you already. "So I fucked a girl on my couch—"
"Ha! So you admit it!" You pointed a finger in his face, eyes blazing at his confession. "And to think you were about to pull some bullshit lie up your ass. Oh, don't give me that look Hoonie, I know exactly what you were about to say."
Sunghoon slapped a palm over his face, letting it drag. He wasn't going to win this. He never did. "And what was that, since you know everything?"
You clasped your hands together, cheeks burning as you felt yourself fume and stew. You couldn't get the picture out of your head. Sunghoon, banging some faceless whore on the couch where the two of you watched the entirety of Breaking Bad and half of Netflix. Now when you looked at it you'd only be able to envision him on top of another girl. You know you shouldn't be naive— he's probably used a different girl on every surface of his goddamn apartment. Still, coming face to face with physical proof of his disloyalty set you off like nothing else. With dramatic vitriol, you mimicked your friend's most likely mindless words. "Oh, it's not what you think! Those aren't mine. Those are just a friend's. I'm sure it's an accident! She was no one!"
The girls were apparently always "just no one" to him. They didn't matter. You matter, that's what he always assured you.
Then why did you feel like nothing when you found a piece of fabric wedged between the cushions?
Sunghoon crossed his arms, unamused by your theatrics. "She was no one. Why should you even care anyway?"
"Because I do!" You felt the toxicity leach out of you through every pore, this illogical fury reaching a boiling point. "And you just... don't! You never do, huh? You just don't give a fuck about me, do you? You know how upset it makes me, but you go out and do it anyways. I mean, fuck how I feel, right? Clearly you don't give a shit."
Sunghoon sighed, taking a step towards you and reaching out. "You know that's not true."
"It is, though. That's why you hid it from me, isn't it?"
"I forgot all about it!" Sunghoon said, exasperated, throwing his hands up. "If I didn't give a shit about you anyways I'd leave it out where you can see. I didn't do it just to hurt—" He stopped himself, running his hands over his face. "Why do you have to take it like some personal attack every fucking time? Why do you have to be such a bitch for no good reason?"
That part made your chest sting, a mixture of both emptiness and pain filling up the hollow cavity where your heart should be. You stay quiet for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. You couldn't help it or choke it down, your eyes beginning to sting as tears appeared along your water line.
Why couldn't he fucking get it? Why didn't he understand he was yours? You made it so clear to him that you're his in every way. What did he still need other girls for?
Why weren't you enough for him?
Sunghoon, blood now boiling, examined your sorrowful expression. As much as he wanted to stay angry at you for coming in screaming about his sex life you had no part in (as he often had to remind himself), he couldn't help but soften. He's seen you cry a thousand times over the years, yet it never gets easier; he couldn't help but melt at the sight of you. The scowl he once had morphed into one of worry, and he reached for you out of instinct. You tried to slap his hands away, but he ignored your protests and sniffles and wrapped you in a bear hug, letting you bury your face into his chest as you started to cry.
"I'm sorry. Please don't be upset with me," he immediately backtracked, trying to soothe you as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead. Regret quickly replaced any feelings of exhaustion or anger towards your antagonizing. He couldn't stand seeing you upset like this. The screaming and tantrums he could handle, but something about your expression just now made him want beg on his knees for your forgiveness. Why did he always have to upset you? Why was he always hurting you somehow, without even meaning to?
You hated it. You hated how weak he made you. You hated him sometimes for making you so miserable for no reason at all.
You let your tears fall onto his shirt as you sobbed, though he didn't seem to mind. He soothingly pet your head in the way he knew you loved, and held you a little tighter. You loved the moments you could spend in his arms, from sharing a bed during shared family vacations or making up after a fight. It was one of the few times you could let yourself believe in the security you so desperately craved from him.
"I'm just a fuck up, aren't I?" Sunghoon softly said, voice calm as he stroked your hair. "I made you cry and everything. I'm really the worst."
You let out a small giggle at that, hiding your face in his shirt so he wouldn't see. "You're not the worst," you whispered, a small admittance.
"I'm not?"
You shook your head a little, blinking away the tears. "Everyone else's the worst."
Vibrations emitted from his chest as he laughed. "You're right. Everyone else is the worst..." He squeezed you a little tighter for a second. "That's why it's just you and me."
You grasped onto the fabric you were crying into, curling your fists at his assurance. "It is?"
He kissed your forehead, pressing his lips against you as he inhaled the lilac-scent of your shampoo. "Of course. Always."
You let your cheeks dry as you take in his words. This is always how it ended. Sunghoon would give you some sweet words to dissuade your anger, and you'd forgive him like always until he did it again, and the cycle would repeat.
God, you were such a toxic piece of shit. You should let go of him. Let him fuck who he wants without having to worry about upsetting you, a girl who he wasn't even interested in remotely. He'd never see you the same way, and here you were punishing him for what? His disloyalty? Why should he owe you anything after everything you've put him through.
Maybe you were just addicted to punishing yourself, like someone in a situationship. But yours wasn't even that.
Your head swam with thoughts of self doubt and hatred. Quietly, you asked, "Do you ever hate me, Sunghoon?"
He seemed to freeze in your embrace, the question unexpected. Usually it's something you accused him of in one of your fits, not ask during the come down. "Of course not. What makes you think that?"
You sniffled. "Sometimes I just think you'd be better off without me."
Sunghoon hadn't given it much thought before, mainly because he'd rather do anything than imagine his life without you in it. As many flaws as he could list, he could name a plethora of things he liked about you. Your drive and wit that could charm any talk show host, if you actually cared to impress anyone but him. Even that aspect, your unwillingness to people-please anyone else and do what you wanted. You weren't a doormat the way he was, always choosing to fight rather than cower. You were always able to do much more damage than he could, whether it was against bullies or mean coworkers or abhorrent professors. If anything, he felt like often he held you back. Sure, from trouble, but who would you be if you didn't have someone you were always tied down to? Who would you be without him?
The thought made him feel sick, and he wrapped his arms around you a bit more securely to really feel you with him. You weren't going anywhere, you were right here in his arms.
Then why did he sometimes feel so distant from you? Like right now? He was always able to tell what you were thinking. Except the times you retreated into yourself, in your shell where even he couldn't reach you at times. It always made him anxious about whatever he'd say next.
"I don't like to think about it, honestly," Sunghoon said honestly. Was it something you thought about? Did you ever think about leaving him? Were you thinking about it now? "I don't want to imagine us not being together."
"Even though I give you so much grief?" you questioned. "Even though you have other girls?"
Sunghoon laughed. Your jealousy and possessiveness over him was still showing. Good. This he could work with. "You don't have to worry about that. They aren't important."
"What if one becomes important?"
It's an unexpected question that, again, Sunghoon hadn't considered.
"None of them would be as important as you," he assured. "No one ever could."
Part of that made you feel better, but it wasn't quite what you wanted to hear. You didn't want anyone holding even a modicum of importance to Sunghoon besides you. You didn't want him to be fucking any girls or giving anyone else the attention you deserved. Sure, you were the most, but you weren't guaranteed to forever be the only.
You finally look up at him, those sweet, charming, doe brown eyes meeting you with softness and patience. Far more than you actually deserved.
You were so immeshed and intertwined with Sunghoon that you didn't know what parts of you were all him and what aspects of him were all you. Your souls had perhaps mixed beyond separation, instead making two indistinguishable entities forever bound to one another. To you there was no law more true than he was yours, and you were his. It was truer than physics.
But maybe he didn't deserve to be tied to a wretched little creature like you. You were jealous and possessive of him, and he made it clear though every rejection of your advances that he wasn't as much yours as you would hope.
What was the point of envying something you can never truly have?
"Do you ever want space from me?" You said it in such a hushed tone Sunghoon barely caught it.
"No." He furrowed his brows as he took in your words. Did you want space from him? Was that it? Sunghoon’s mind whirred with your questions. Had he pushed it too far? "Do you... want me to give you space?"
Your fists curled again, nails digging into your palms. Sunghoon gave you too much space for your personal liking. Space that he was using to fuck other women and spend time away from you. What more could need? What more did you have left to give?
The moral quandaries of the situation flooded your head, and you were unable to decide what to answer. You were a selfish bitch, through and through. He should be yours and no one else's, and you've believed that since the day you met him. He was yours, yours, and yours.
But clearly he wasn't, and clearly he didn't want to be. He didn't want to be yours the way you wanted to be his, and the reminder caused your heart to weigh just a little bit more every day.
How long could you keep him like this? On the brink of insanity as he tries to please your impossible whims of ownership over him? What would be the last straw on the camel's back to drive him away from you and to someone he could actually choose?
Would space be good for him?
"I don't know," you admitted quietly.
That sent Sunghoon’s mind spiraling. His two instincts were to 1.) push you away and ask frantically why you didn't automatically say no the way he did or 2.) hug you so tight you'd never be able to escape his clutches. He'd keep you in his apartment forever if he had to, chain you to his desk and never let you leave, like a legitimate psycho.
His breathing quickened and his heart rate spiked, and instead of either option he froze again, blood running cold. He didn't even know what to do or respond. Should he scream the way you do him until you changed your mind to what he wants? Should he do whatever it took to make you stay? Where were you getting these ideas from? Did someone plant them in that stupid little brain of yours? You hardly had any friends, and what few you did was mainly for appearances and boredom, though you often complained to Sunghoon about what bores and nags they were in your eyes. Sunghoon has always been the only person in this world you liked, let alone loved.
Did you meet a guy? No, that couldn't be it. All of your "friends" were girls, and you found most guys intolerable and annoying with the exception of him.
But what if you found another exception?
"Sunghoon?" You nervously said, perturbed by his unusual quietness.
Sunghoon decided to play it cool. Faking a laugh, he teased, "Jeez, what's gotten into you today? These aren't your normal questions. What happened to my girl?"
He ruffled your hair until you whined and squirmed in an attempt to leave his arms. He didn't let you.
"Sunghoooon!" You whined, nails slightly scratching at his forearms in retaliation. You wrapped your hands around each, the thick muscle pulsing beneath your palms as he kept you glued against him.
"C'mon, ask me a real question the way you normally do. Prove you're my best friend or I'll believe you're an imposter." He nuzzled his nose in your neck, causing you to wiggle out of ticklishness this time. You giggled at his affection, lightly slapping at his arms in protest as he blew air against your neck. "Prove it."
You bit your lip to suppress a smile, unable to stay mad at him for too long. "Was she prettier than me?" you pouted, your tone more playful than angry now.
His nose touched yours softly as he stared at you, relieved to have a question he's finally knows how to answer. "Nah," he smiled, fingers twirling around a strand of your hair as he tried to keep you in his orbit. "No one is. You know that."
You grinned at his compliment, the line well rehearsed and well used, but comforting all the same.
Still, you thought about how many times you've had this argument, and how many more you'll have in the future. It'd always go like this, with you as the possessive and jealous best friend who couldn't stand the idea of anyone else in his life. How long would it be before he figures out you're just not worth the trouble?
—
Sunghoon kicked it back in his friend's garage as the two shared a joint, letting the smoke fill their lungs and siphon out of the garage door and into the open air. Sitting in front of his friend's janky heater, he wondered to himself about his predicament. This was one of the few opportunities he could spend out of your sight, as you were in class. God, the way he had to bribe you with boba and sleepovers for over a month just to convince you to stop causing so much chaos away from him... It's a miracle you weren't kicked out of this school before you pissed off one of your professors by disagreeing with their lectures and insulting their intelligence. Hell, the only way Sunghoon was able to salvage your place at previous schools was by emphasizing your immaculate scores. They were contradicted your reckless behavior, sure, but schools wanted to keep their testing scores up. You were never stupid by any capacity, you just used any bit of genius you possessed to manipulate and get away with whatever degeneracy you had planned. Usually some nefarious scheme of revenge against some girl who so much as looked at Sunghoon the wrong way. He got very used to the women approaching him suddenly finding snakes in their backpacks or surrounded by rumors sullying their good name. Your craftiness, no doubt. Clearly you had too much freetime. At least with classes, though, Sunghoon was able to take some breaks— though you'd disapprove of how he'd use some on girls that coincidentally happened to vaguely resemble you. At least vaguely enough for there to be plausible deniability.
Sunghoon passed the weed to his friend, a chill dude with good weed but a boring personality. Maybe Hoon did have a bit of that same darkness you possessed, finding everyone else to be a waste of time unless they can be of use to him. He could definitely use the joint right now... and perhaps a little advice.
"Mind if I pick your brain on something?" Sunghoon asked. His friend gave him the side eye, unused to the man's sudden interest in his thoughts.
"Lady troubles, huh?" A puff of smoke escaped his friend's parted lips. "Is it that chick you just fucked a while ago? What's her name... Sarah?"
"Nah man, not her." Truth was Sunghoon’s pretty much forgotten her name already, as he usually does. He's pretty sure she's rang already once or twice, but he wasn't finding himself in any hurry to return her calls. He's mainly been worried about you these past couple of weeks. God, maybe he was the sleazy piece of shit you thought him to be. No wonder you were so disgusted with him. "It's just... someone."
Ever since the most recent fight you have been off. Less texts spamming him constantly with memes or annoyance for not replying immediately. When he took you out for boba you actually paid for yourself— which you never do. You also turned down his invitation to watch Godzilla movies at his place, even after he insisted he cleaned every inch of that goddamn couch three times. Something was up, and every passing moment made Sunghoon unusually antsy. Now he was the one bombarding you with calls checking up on you, your unusual reserved attitude putting him in a frenzied state. Didn't he fix it? You were never upset for this long. Ok, maybe you were sometimes, but you'd never just... leave him alone. You'd be waiting at his apartment, sitting on the couch you now know he's violated, and starting up right where you left off with the argument last time. You should be cussing and shouting, not MIA from the screen you were usually glued to.
"Riiiiight..." the friend said with a drag, nodding as he passed the joint back. "So tell me about it."
"It's my... friend." It felt odd calling you just that, without the word best in front of it. It felt so much more insignificant compared to what you actually meant to him, the small word doing nothing to compare. But if he went out of the gate with best his friend would definitely know it was about you. Still, it’s not like you could be anything more, no matter how badly Sunghoon wanted to cross that line. He couldn’t, though. He knew the minute you acted serious about it, didn’t brush it off as a joke— the moment he had you he wouldn’t be able to let go. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen, he couldn’t pretend everything was normal. You most certainly wouldn’t be ready for it. The situation at hand was proving it. "She's acting strange lately. Like... I dunno, distant. We got in a fight earlier but usually by now everything's normal again."
"Did you do something particularly heinous?" the friend inquired.
To her, definitely, Sunghoon thinks, taking a hit. "Not anything new."
"Maybe she just wants space," the friend suggested.
"I don't want to give her space," Sunghoon blurted out without meaning to.
That is responded to with a grin. His friend's eyebrows rose at Sunghoon’s reaction. "Oh? Why not?"
She's mine. She should be with me. She's mine. "I dunno... just doesn't seem like the right call I guess."
"Hm." His friend took back the joint and pulled in a long inhale, thinking. "So you wanna make her talk to you, huh?"
Did he? There was always the risk it'd just become another screaming match with you. You didn't seem to have any interest in opening up right now, so closed off to Sunghoon for what seems like the first time.
What was it? Was it because he had been spending a bit less time with you now? What with his admittedly growing social life due to inevitable popularity, (Which you hated, though it was unavoidable with his good looks and charisma. You couldn't truly blame any of Sunghoon’s bimbos for being unable to resist.) and stress filled classes, he certainly wasn't spending as much time with you as he did when you two were kids. Were you just giving him a taste of his own medicine? Or had you finally decided to get a life of your own that didn't involve him? He hoped neither.
Did you not need him any more?
The mere thought made it feel as thought his insides were being flipped inside out.
"I tried talking to her, but she sort of just shut me out." Sunghoon reached for the joint for a much needed hit. "I don't think I can handle this for much longer. I feel like I'm gonna go just... nuts soon. I'm this close to not holding back."
From what, even he wasn't sure.
"Then don't," his friend shrugged. "Make her talk to you, if it's that important. See if she likes you enough to listen to you. Someplace that catches her off her guard." He paused to think for a moment. "Or get her drunk. Girls love spilling their guts when they're drunk. My sister's always telling me TMI after a glass of wine."
That wasn't half a bad idea. It was typical for you to blabber on nonsense when you were drunk with Sunghoon. Whether it was discussing the idea of eloping or wrestling with him for long enough that he had to take a cold shower after, you were much less inhibited when you were under the influence.
"That's an idea," Sunghoon murmured to himself.
"You're usually great with women," his friend consoled. "You clearly just gotta man up with this one, dude. Remind her what she's missing." He took another pause. "It's probably a good thing she's mad. They're only mad if they care. It's when they stop caring you have to get worried."
Well, at least you're always mad at him. That was a comforting thought.
As for getting you to console to him and stay by his side, there was one idea that came to mind.
You absolutely hated parties. You didn't want to talk to anyone about their dumb problems or deal with the alcohol wafting off people's breaths. With girls occupying the bathrooms with their wailing and guys constantly bombarding you to try a line of coke off a paper plate, you found the events unappealing to say the least. You used to stay by Sunghoon’s side during freshman year and drink in the corner with him, talking shit about whoever was passed out in the living room or gyrating on who in public. Sunghoon’s gotten a lot more popular lately, though, much to your chagrin. He was practically the main event, being greeted by practically everyone whenever he went to one of these events. Every guy would shove a beer in his hand and dab him up like he was part of one of their dumbass frats. You practically had to beat off other girls with a stick and death glare when they approached him, their high pitched flirty voices and batting lashes making you want to gag. Seeing him be the king of a world you could and would never fit into left you stewing and steaming like the world's angriest pot of soup.
Sunghoon didn't give you much of a choice this time, though.
After maybe two weeks of resisting the temptation of returning to Sunghoon’s side and giving in to your most selfish desires, he ended up cornering you. He barged into your apartment with plans he had set up without your prior input— a page he had taken from your book, no doubt. He insisted on the two for you going to some Yo Gabba Gabba bullshit frat party despite your protests. You hated parties. You hated feeling loneliness in a crowded room. You hated the idiots that surrounded you and the way they'd squabble and flock around Sunghoon, desperate for his approval. Little did they know he thought the same as you— that they were mouth-breathers who were a waste of his time.
At least, that's normally what he seemed to think. Now that he was dragging you along for whatever godforsaken reason, despite your known hatred for public socialization, you were getting worried. Had he gotten sick of you avoiding him? The emotional distance you've been trying so hard to put between you two? Was this some sick punishment of his that he knew would be your personal hell? To watch him flirt with other girls before your very eyes and be too cool to be attainable? How cruel. How you. Perhaps he was learning. For once, and you couldn't believe it, it didn't seem like things were going your way.
When you complained it was too chilly a night for you guys to be going out, he simply tugged off his hoodie and wrapped it around you, problem solved. When you insisted you would agree to watching his Godzilla movies instead he suggested to do it tomorrow instead. When you complained you didn't have anything cute to wear Sunghoon yanked out the going-out top you convinced him to buy for you just last month. Any excuse you could come up with he was able to retort with ease, as though he had already prepared the answers.
This was going to fucking suck.
You pouted as you thought of all the pretty faces that would come up to him tonight, completely ignoring you at his side and making it obvious they'd like to win a night with him. You comforted yourself with the thought that at least they don't know he snores, which could be a fun surprise. Then you upset yourself again with the thought of him tangled in the bed with another girl in the first place.
Sunghoon was set on torturing you tonight for all your misdeeds, clearly.
You grumbled as you made your way to the car, already feeling a little warm from the lemon drops Sunghoon prepared back at his place. Of course he'd pregame you with your favorite to make the night a little more bearable. You felt it necessary to pregame any social interaction. The liquor coat managed to keep your temperature somewhat tolerable for the cold night air, or at least long enough for when you guys got to the party.
It seemed however that 2.5 lemon drop martinis weren't enough to get rid of your foul attitude, considering the fact you were bitching the entire time about how much you didn't want to go. Sunghoon recalled the saying about the horse and the water, but figured he'd make the most of it. At worst, he could always drown the horse, but what a waste of a bitchy horse.
"Oh my God, fucking Jake from 402 is going?" You scowled at your phone, seeing whatever worst-classmate-of-the-month posted on his instastory, glaring at the screen like the blue light itself was offending you. "He's such a bitch. He fucking cried at my reaction to his presentation, I don't want to deal with him. It's so awkward dealing with people after you make them cry."
Sunghoon thought about all the times he's made you cry over the years. Out of frustration of him fucking other girls, the one time you got your fingers caught in a drawer he was slamming shut, that other time he may or may not have purposefully lied to the guy you were talking to that you were saving yourself for Jesus, causing said almost-crush to ghost you. (It didn't really matter anyways. Sunghoon knew the guy wouldn't last five minutes in you. He was just doing you a favor and saving you from bad sex, if anything.) It wasn't awkward all of those times. Well, until recent developments.
"It'll be fine. I'll stick by you the entire night, he won't even have the guts to confront you the way you deserve," Sunghoon oh-so-helpfully assured.
Your glare redirected to him, a scoff accompanying it in appropriate fashion. "Yeah fucking right. You're going to be out of my sight within five minutes of walking through the door. It'll be some loser with a Bass Pro hat giving you a joint or a beer or what-fucking-ever, and suddenly it's so long, bestie!"
Sunghoon rolled his eyes at your rant, trying to mentally disengage now that he saw the house in the distance, the neon lights from the LED strips inside calling to him like a beacon. He was just five minutes from taking you inside a place you’d do anything to leave, even if it meant getting a conversation over with him. All he had to do was take you to some unoccupied whatever-the-fuck, and ask you what was wrong. Maybe manipulate you a little by saying he wouldn’t drive you home until you told him. You’d be too lazy to even think of looking into other options. "I'm not going to leave you."
"You say that, but we both know your word means nothing the second some broad with fat tits walks by threatening to motorboat you." You stirred at the thought, envisioning it all too clearly, your imagination finding the liquor in your system massively beneficial for the anger bubbling up inside you. "I mean, seriously, why'd you even bring me here? You could've gone by yourself."
"I wanted you to come with me."
"To what? Go sit on a couch next to some guy who can't take a hint, all while you fuck some chick in a bathroom that hasn't been cleaned in 5 months? No thanks."
"I told you, I'm not going to leave you."
"Yeah right. Suck my dick, Park. I could be home reading Onyx Storm right now."
"We both know you're not going to start reading that any time soon. It's been sitting on your nightstand for almost a year."
"Tonight could've been the night!" You protested. "But no, you just insisted on dragging me along to some stupid party to go watch you get hit on by some hot girl in an Urban Outfitters corset two sizes too small."
"That's not why I brought you here," Sunghoon sighed, hoping that the increasing volume of the party music would soon drown out your incessant arguing. "I thought it'd be a good place for us to catch up, have fun. Maybe talk. A change of scenery could do us some good."
"If you actually wanted to hang out with me, sure! We could've! I said I was fine with watching Godzilla tonight. But nooooo, you couldn't be bored looking at ugly little me, you just had to go find something that would give those precious pupils of yours a break." You snarled, shuffling further into the passenger seat, hoping your skin would glue itself to the leather so you didn't have to leave this car. "So, so sorry for not giving your retinas a day off. I know you must have cataracts by now just from looking at me."
Sunghoon put the car in park, finally turning towards you with a hard stare that would've made anyone's knees buckle. His face was suddenly centimeters away from yours, his rage radiating off of him stronger than UV rays in July.
"Oh my fucking God. What, do I have to fuck you in the car for you to feel pretty?"
Your eyes widened, and your mouth hung open, closing and opening over and over again as if you were a singing fish. You didn't know what to say. Usually you were the one making those sorts of comments — and at least it'd be somewhat disguised as a joke.
"I-I—" You stammered, feeling yourself get flustered. "Shut up!"
Sunghoon laughed at your shocked expression. Typically he wouldn't even humor your jokes of flirtation towards him, instead brushing them off and ignoring them, chalking the comments up to poor attempts to get under his skin. He was living for your reaction, however, how clearly you wore your expressions on your sleeve. He could practically see every wheel turning in that evil head of yours, trying to make sense of him, of his mask slipping just a little bit. For once, he had the upper hand, and he was enjoying it so, so much.
"How long do you think it'll last, huh? A few weeks? A year?" He leaned in closer, letting his breath fan against your skin. "How long do you think it'll be until you need it again?"
You jumped out of the car as though he electrocuted you, heart hammering so fast you swore you were having palpitations. "L-Like you'd— like that'd—" you glared at Sunghoon as he laughed at your mess of a self. You huffed, realizing he was just fucking with you. "Shut up!"
He let out another cackle at your expense. "Getting to you, huh? But you always say this sort of thing."
"You don't," you pointed out. "You just ignore me and call the comments stupid. You don't even react."
"I've always been good at hiding my reaction," Sunghoon reminded you. Painfully. "You never have."
You scowled at him, rolling your eyes. "You're so fucking full of yourself, Park."
"Yeah? You wanna be, too, I bet."
That sent an electric current straight to your core. You tried to compose yourself and hide the effect he's having on you, taking in a deep breath like you were trying to convince both parties of your confidence. "You're not getting to me, Park."
"Yeah, but you only call me Park when you're pissed at me," he smiled. "So I must be getting under your skin."
"As if—"
You were cut off by a loud buzzing from Sunghoon’s pocket, barely heard over the party music in the distance, the house several yards away. Of course Mr. Popular had someone trying to contact him every moment of the week. No wonder he was no longer having time for you—you were having to share his precious time with all of these other losers. He pulled it out of his pocket, and your eyes spied a suspiciously all too feminine name for your liking.
Sunghoon’s gaze met yours, twinkling with mischief as he practically dared you to seethe and pout over it as you normally do. You wanted to prove him wrong so bad, though. Whatever games he's suddenly playing, he will not win.
"You know what, Sunghoon, do what you want," you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "I don't even care anymore."
His smile disappeared at that last part, a frown gracing his features now. Something about that set him off inside, though he tried to regain his composure to hide his reaction to your words. Still, he was pissed off.
You don't care? Really? Since when? You always cared! You cared so fucking much all the time, especially when it came to Sunghoon! You cared too much about everything!
We'll see how much you don't care.
He picked up the buzzing device, ignoring your scowl of disapproval. He could practically feel your eyes jump out of your skull from his peripheral vision as you spotted the name Sasha on his phone. He's not entirely sure why he does it, just some instinct to put you in your place. To see if you do care, and if so, how much?
"You're actually answering that now?" you hissed, seething. Of course he's got some side hoe calling him when he's alone with you, but the gall of him to actually pick up? And in front of you, after all that... whatever that was? What game was he playing at?
Truth be told, Sunghoon wasn't so sure either. He was, however, willing to make a gamble on that jealous streak of yours.
He patted your head patronizingly, cooing at your anger. "It would be rude of me not to answer."
"Ignore the bitch," you snarled, grumbling under your breath, resisting the urge to grab his phone and chuck it far, far away. Last time you did that it cost you an entire week's worth of tips at your waitressing job. One you inevitably got fired from after you poured coffee on the old man who grabbed your ass as you walked by. For some reason they didn't believe it was an accident.
Instead of listening to you the way he normally did, he answered the call. "Hey, Sasha." There's a purr in his tone you never heard him use with your name. It made your stomach twist into a Gordian knot.
"I'm leaving." You turned away to stomp towards the lame ass party.
Sunghoon didn't let you run off, however, grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to him, muting the call for a second. "Stay."
His word left no word for argument, and with the certainty in his tone, you could do nothing more but return to your place next to him and within earshot of the receiver. He chuckled as you stayed in place, pissed off but obedient. He could get used to this.
"I know you want to listen in anyways. Nosy." The amount of times he had caught you going through his phone (you knew all of his passwords, even the ones he forgot) and the amount of times it's started a fight was immeasurable.
Sunghoon smirked down at you, staring as he listened to Sasha excitedly ask how he's been and what he’s been up to. He twirled a strand of your hair, pleased with the scowl you bore. "Yeah, sorry it's been a while," he said, focusing on your lock being woven between his fingers, admiring how shiny it was even in the dark. "I've missed you."
You refrained from saying anything, knowing Sunghoon was all too eager to see you have a meltdown over one stupid phone call, just to prove a point. It'd be very much like you, though. You've done so over far less. Still, you stayed in place, for some reason wanting to be good for Sunghoon. You tried to ignore the dumb cunt's voice, her shrill giggles piercing your ears. You did your best to look unaffected, pulling the best poker face you could muster.
"Have you missed me?" Sunghoon asked, eyes still locked with yours. His smirk deepened. "Or just the feeling?"
You couldn't help but let out a grimace of anger and disgust contort your features, your ears burning as you listened to your best friend's sleazy talk to this random whore. Her bout of giggling and scolding Sunghoon for being so teasing did nothing to endear her to you.
Sunghoon relished in your expression, loving getting to see how jealous you were getting in real time, unable to do anything about it. He never broke eye contact with you, continuing to play with your hair as he nodded slowly to Sasha's response. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately..." Sunghoon said, smug as he watched you seethe right in front of him. He could feel how hot your ears were when he brushed your hair behind them, the normally affectionate gesture now being laced with something you had never known.
"Thinking of you under me, how good you'd feel..." His eyes flickered down from your eyes to your lips for just a split second before returning up. "How you're the prettiest girl I've ever known."
You turned around to march off again but Sunghoon stopped you, pulling you in so your back was pressed against his chest, his bicep wrapping around your front to keep you in place. You were now closer to the phone, able to better hear her annoying squeals of excitement. You reached up into his arm, fingers digging into the firm muscle as you tried to get him to let go, but he didn't. He instead leaned his head down closer, and you felt his breath tickle your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.
"Bet you've been thinking about it too, huh?"
You squirmed more in his grasp, pawing at the thick arm that kept you in place as you listened to her fervently agree. For some reason you were still feeling hot all over, even when Sunghoon was talking to another girl. An odd twist of lust and jealousy churned in your gut, the direct eye contact with you making you feel a strange, unexplored level of intimacy with him. You didn't know what to make of it, of Sunghoon’s sudden games. It was as though your time apart from him had truly affected him deeply, and now he was making up for the lost time in the most diabolical way possible. He was punishing you for depriving him of your presence, so it seemed.
Sunghoon was always so touchy with you. Hugs, pecks on the cheek, kisses on the forehead, playing with your hair, sitting/laying in each other's laps— it was all common. You should've known he'd be a whore from the get go with his love language clearly being physical touch. He was usually so gentle with you though, but now it was more domineering, more calculated. For once, you were under his control.
You didn't think he had it in him. It was usually you who bossed him around.
You also didn't know why you were going along with it. You had half the mind to scream into his phone and call whatever harlot on the other side to fuck off. Still, he wanted you to be good for him. Being good was new for you, but perhaps Sunghoon was the one to bring it out of you.
That, or you happened to bring out the darkness in him that was capable.
He let go of his hold on you with his arm, though his fingers slightly trailed up the column of your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back as he tipped your chin up. You looked straight up at him towering over you, his hooded eyes and wicked grin doing nothing to set your mind at ease.
In a whisper so quiet it's barely there, one you're unsure Sasha would even be able to hear, Sunghoon breathed, "I want you so bad..."
You hated to hear him purr it into the phone, into her undeserving ears. Fuck, what you'd give for him to say that, just you and him alone. You swiped for the phone, but Sunghoon read you too fast, swatting your hand away. You opened your mouth to yell, but it's quickly covered by the palm of his hand. He turned you around to press against the car, any noises muffled by his large hand that easily covered half of your face. You glared at him, earning a cheesy ass grin of satisfaction; Sunghoon was realizing he actually liked making you mad.
Meeting your stare, he continued. "You really have no idea... All the things I've wanted to do to you..." He licked his lips slowly. "Make you cum over and over again on my—"
Before Sunghoon could finish spewing filth, you bit, hard, glaring at Sunghoon all while his smug expression shifted to a painful scowl and he yanked his hand back with a hiss. "I gotta go," he hastily snarled into the phone, hanging up on Sasha and shoving the phone in his pocket.
You didn't even have time to properly gloat before he was in your face, placing his bitten hand out on the car behind you. "You fucking bit me!"
You probably haven't bitten him since the 3rd grade. Or 11th.
You stuck out your tongue at him, not regretting your actions, running high on adrenaline and the slight buzz of the martinis. "Serves you right, asshole. That was so fucked up and... and..."
"And what?"
And why was I actually getting turned on during it?
"And you better delete her number before the end of the night! I will check," you huffed, shoving him back and crossing your arms. You could only hope he attributed the blood rushing to your cheeks to the rage and alcohol, rather than anything something more insidious.
He examined you, taking you in, your fast breaths and flushed face. Maybe it was because of the cold? Maybe you were just angry at him for being abrasive and gross in front of you—for making you listen to him like that.
But he couldn't shake off the feeling that you liked it a lot more than you led on.
"Just when I thought you could stop acting like a brat for two minutes," he tsked, stepping back and turning away to run a hand down his face. Somehow he seemed actually disappointed, but most importantly caught off guard. "Whatever, lets just head inside."
Grabbing your wrist and dragging you along before you can dig a further grave, Sunghoon took you to the den of debauchery.
—
You would think that the fact Sunghoon was dragging you through the front door, wrist in hand, scowl on his face, was enough to signal that he was a bit occupied at the moment. Alas, your generation has skipped the course in social cues, and the two of you found yourselves surrounded by the last people you ever wanted to see.
Correction, Sunghoon was surrounded. So surrounded, in fact, by the very people you predicted, that his hold on you slipped away, too many people between the two of you. Every guy is calling him "the man!" and "duuuude!" wanting to catch up and grab a beer, light a joint, fuck a bitch, whatever. The girls on the other hand were all touchy, grabbing onto his biceps, tugging on his clothes with surface-level compliments, caressing his hair, all like it would convince him they were the special one compared to the four other girls doing the same thing.
Goddamn, some of the girls' voices were so high pitched you were surprised the neighborhood dogs weren't howling. You were currently suppressing the urge to phone in a noise complaint for the very party you were at, but last time you did that Sunghoon forced you to sit through a 6-hour documentary on how caviar was made, and you'd rather not be haunted by the image of fish eggs again.
You had to hand it to him though, he proved you wrong. While you predicted he would be swarmed and whisked away in five minutes, he managed to accomplish the feat in five seconds. That was a new record.
You pondered for a moment on a pragmatic way of ditching, but find yourself lacking in suggestions. You were too buzzed to steal his keys and drive away yourself, and you definitely didn't trust any of the bozos here to get you home without a blowjob for the road. You also didn't have time to steal Sunghoon’s wallet to pay for an Uber using his credit card.
Faintly, you heard him say, "Wait! I need to talk to my—"
Didn't matter. Sunghoon’s magnetic field was too strong for even him to dissuade, something that you learned long ago. You knew there was no point in awkwardly standing around the growing crowd of sycophants, waiting for them to thin out and set him free. Too many times you'd see them disperse, with Sunghoon nowhere to be found, only for you to later walk in on him with a group of guys clapping him on the back, cigars in hand, or worse, stepping outside a closet, fixing the buckle on his belt.
Instead you sashay towards the kitchen, knowing the remedy to increase your buzz and keep the bad vibes going. One shot of Grey Goose later and you're good to go, primed and ready for wherever the shitty party full of trust fund college kids may lead. Had you known you were going to be taken hostage here in the first place, you would've at least texted a gal pal of yours to come with. Not that you liked any of them that much, but at least you wouldn't be painfully alone, ready for the vultures.
Unfortunately, the gods of the universe seem to have it out for you, as you make eye contact with none other than Jake Sim in the living room. He's got a classic red solo cup in his hand and a jarring look of recognition, and boy, is that look pissed. Instead of the mysterious liquid giving him the courage to go out and actually get laid, the loser seems encouraged to instead confront you for that comment you made about how his forensics diagram was worse than a 3rd grader's drawing depicting their trauma.
Immediately he sprung from the couch, marching his way over to you, and while you could admit karma should slap you in the face, you thought Jake’s too beneath you to be deserving of that privilege.
You moved deeper into the crowd, hoping you were able to slip between the bodies faster than he can keep up. Through the maze of gyrating miscreants, your drunk ass managed to bump into someone actually useful.
"Woah! Hey, slow down," the guy laughed, steadying you back on your feet after you bulldozed into him. "Are you alright?"
"'M fine," you mumbled, spinning your head around to see if Jake was still tailing you. You grabbed onto the guy's shirt, spinning him around so you were now switching sides, his body blocking the view from where Jake would probably come from. "Just avoiding someone."
"Some creep who won't leave you alone?" The man chuckled, pulling you closer to his frame to hide you better.
"Something like that." Opportunities like this didn't usually fall into your lap, and you were grateful for the barrier at the moment.
"I get it. I can help a pretty girl like you blend in, then."
You looked up at his face and begin to scrutinize the details. He's objectively handsome. Not Sunghoon handsome, but sure, he'd do. If Jake spotted you with him he might feel too awkward to separate you two and ruin the vibe. Hell, if you're lucky and he does, the stranger might be willing to tell him off without any questions. Maybe even punch him in the face, which would make an interesting TikTok. He called you pretty, too, which was a great indicator. Guys seemed to constantly fantasize about committing violence for a pretty girl. Or to, but you'd take your chances for at least a few minutes until you had to shake him off too.
You slipped on one of your sly smiles, the coy one that made guys think you were actually flattered by their attention. The one that screamed you're making me feel special and made them think they had a chance. "My hero," you grinned, pulling him closer, his chest right against yours.
"What's your name?" He asked, hands settling on your waist, his lips on your ear so he could speak at a much more sultry tone than the heavy bass would typically allow you to register.
You told him, batting your lashes, your voice a sweet caress in comparison to the noise and your true nature. "What's yours?"
"Jungwon." You'll probably forget it later. "Want to dance with me?"
You nodded, and he spun you around, hands now on your hips as he moved you in tune with the music. He was at least on beat, which was a plus. You just hoped he wouldn't be the type who came in his pants from a bit of grinding. That was always annoying.
Your eyes scanned about the room for Jake, your body moving in natural rhythm with Jungwon’s as you gyrated along with the others, blending in just as planned.
Jungwon whispered something in your ear that you barely heard, but you giggled anyways. Guys liked when you laugh at whatever stupid shit they think you want to listen to; it boosted their egos and makes their cock hard, like they'll get the chance to use your bra strap as a guitar string or something. Whatever, though. You could still let yourself get lost in the music, the booze in your system making you feel much looser and easy going than you'd usually be with strangers like this. You suspected the man behind you would suggest after twenty-or-so minutes of dry humping on the dance floor to go upstairs and see what other moves you have.
What you did not expect, however, was to spot Sunghoon’s face.
His head was whipping about as he spun, eyes searching the room and stopping when he spotted you.
The look on his face was one he usually pulled when you've fucked up majorly. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, and suddenly you were very aware that the party you just arrived at was over for you.
He must've managed to shake off his posse, because now he's making a beeline towards you, parting the crowd like the Red Sea and snatching your wrist to wrench you away from Jungwon’s embrace.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Sunghoon scowled, his grip on your wrist tight as he pulled you in.
"Yo, man, fuck off!" Jungwon grabbed your arm, yanking on you, and suddenly you felt like tug-of-rope on field day. "You're the creep that's been following her around?"
"Let go of her. We're leaving." Sunghoon tried to tug you back, but Jungwon didn't let go.
"What are you, some stalker? Her ex?"
"What?" Sunghoon guffawed at the man's accusations, his face one of shock and disgust. "No, you idiot. She's mine. Why don't you go hump someone else, yeah?"
Jungwon looked at you, your bored, blank expression showing no sign of fright or worry. He slowly let go of your arm, taking note of how you don't move away from Sunghoon or make any effort to reach back for him. He already fulfilled his hero role tonight, you had no further use for him. That, and you really, really weren't in the mood to suck his dick to the terrible playlist currently mauling your eardrums.
He seemed as though he were both more understanding and more confused the longer he assessed the situation.
"Sorry, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend."
Sunghoon scoffed, pulling you closer to him and glaring back at Jungwon, obviously still peeved. He didn't say another word to him, instead dragging you along and straight through the front door of the party he demanded you attend.
"We haven't even been here for, like, half an hour!"
"Oh, like you care," he spat, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck was that? Since when do you just let guys hump you like a dog in heat?"
"I was trying to avoid Jake. I told you he was here but you didn't give a fuck. I had to improvise." You shrugged, struggling to keep up with his long legs as he yanked you across the front yard. "Hey, slow down!"
He stopped, spinning around to glower at you directly, his sudden halt causing you to face plant into his chest. You grimaced, pushing yourself off, stumbling back. "You could've come to me. Not some stranger giving you fuck-me-eyes."
You deadpanned, finding his audacity to be impertinent at best. "Last I checked, you were the one who left me, remember?"
"I wasn't trying to! I literally had to tell everyone to fuck off because I didn't even get the chance to talk to you."
"Why the fuck would you need to bring me to a party to talk to me when you have me on speed dial?"
Sunghoon flicked your forehead, causing you to yelp in pain and rub the sore spot.
"What the hell was that for?" you whined, still too buzzed to knock him upside the head in retaliation the way you would've. You're never given an answer, however, as Sunghoon proceeded to drag you back to the car, away from the chaos that frat Alpha-Beta-Omega had to offer.
You stumbled over your steps, the alcohol making you as coordinated as a freshly born fawn, and Sunghoon had to half carry you back to his vehicle. He thought about what a terrible, unsuccessful night it's already been, and how much stupider your decisions were when you were under the influence of alcohol. Clearly drinking loosened you up too much, and he had half a mind to go back inside and punch Jungwon in the face for how he was feeling you up. How you let him.
"What a stupid fucking idea," he muttered to himself, deciding to never, ever take anyone's advice ever again.
—
The two of you arrive back at your place, but in no better a mood. You certainly weren't, now significantly more sobered up after the events that took place. You didn't even have a decent buzz to lull you to sleep, instead left with the dull nothingness that was not being under the influence.
Sunghoon snapped on the lights, his movements quick and aggressive, showing his clear agitation. You didn't give a shit. Throwing a tantrum over nothing was supposed to be your thing, and he didn't come off nearly as endearing as you when you did it.
You weren't going to let Sunghoon think for even a moment that his attitude would sway you. You were just as mad at him as he was at you, and had a much better reason to be on top of that.
"I'm surprised the campus slut really even gives a shit about what I do," you drawled. "So I grind on one guy at a party. You meanwhile have probably fingered a dozen girls in each—"
Sunghoon chortled, nostrils flaring with anger already. "Please, you exaggerate so much—"
"I saw how all of them were all over you. Oh, Sunghoon, pleaseeeee fuck me. I need you so bad!" You didn't notice Sunghoon’s red ears as you said that, ranting on, practically in your own world. "You just loooooved it didn't you? Liked their attention, right? I mean, what do you even need me for at this point?"
"Oh please, all I did was say hi to them. Meanwhile I have to watch you practically fuck a guy in some dingy ass frat—"
"That you brought us to!"
"Yeah, to talk to you! Because you've been fucking weird and avoiding me after I fucked some girl, when you could've just said you wanted it to be you," he fumed. Heat crawled up your neck at his words, the bluntness of his accusation throwing you for a loop. Was he buzzed from the party? Had he been drinking for the few minutes you were apart? Just openly speaking about this like it's nothing, when to you this was everything? "That's why you act like such a bitch, right? And hate all of them? Because you’re jealous?"
You did your best not to crack under the assertion, puffing up your chest with faux bravado that you prayed he couldn't see past."Look at you fucking projecting, Park. I saw how you looked at Jungwon; you looked like you wanted to kill him. Yet I'm the jealous one? At least I don't pretend to be fucking nice, like some pathetic people pleaser!"
"You're the one who I always have to please the most. I'm always doing what you say, all the time. Practically everything I do, I do for you! And you can't even acknowledge how much I cater to you. What could he possibly offer you when I give you everything?!" Sunghoon carded his hands through his hair, wanting to rip it out at the roots. Fuck. He sounded like you right now.
"Everything?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Please. You're out fucking random girls— what does that give me? Huh? Panties shoved between your couch cushions as a reminder of a part of you that clearly isn't for me."
Why did you even care that part wasn't for you? Why were you so bothered by it?
"It was an accident!" He fumed, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "And I've never practically dry humped someone in front of you."
"Get over yourself! What was that earlier, huh? The phone call? Forcing me to listen in on you talking about how much you want that bitch and what you want to do to her? Just another one of your sick, twisted mind games, isn't it? You fucking freak."
Sunghoon gave you a dark stare, suddenly breathing harder than you remembered. He moved forward very slowly, each movement calculated, like a predator slowly sneaking up on it's prey.
"You know what I think?" He leaned in closer, but you stood your ground, not even flinching as he invaded your space. "I think you're more upset over the fact that you liked it."
You winced at the accusation this time, the blow Sunghoon delivered hitting much too hard. Usually by now you've won, and he's apologizing and offering food to make it better. No, this time he's matching your pace, and you're the one who has to keep up with him. You tried to think fast to defend yourself, but all you could muster was turning away from him to hide the way your face burned. "Fuck you, Park."
Now his wicked grin returned, noting the fact you hadn't denied it. You're much more vulnerable than you anticipated, and not at all ready for Sunghoon ambush. He sat down on your sofa, becoming much more comfortable as he was crawled further underneath your skin.
"Yeah, you want to, huh? You'd think so after all the times you've practically begged for it."
You whipped around so fast, your eyes practically bulging out of your sockets. "Begged for it? I would never beg you for shit."
"Yeah? Even when you prance around in front of me in those fuck me shorts and send a death threat to any woman I sleep with?" His grin grew cocky as he spread his legs, his lap inviting. You averted your gaze, knowing he was practically daring you to look. "You've been fucking desperate for it, huh, baby?"
If your head could explode right now, it probably would. The mere sight of cocky Park Sunghoon spreading his legs before you had you wanting to fall to your knees. How had everything suddenly reached such a boiling point between you two? How had arguing become... whatever this is?
"And what about you, huh?" You stomped back towards him, not backing down. "You just, what, see me with one guy and suddenly you're practically carrying me out of there? For what reason when you were already surrounded by half a dozen girls who would've sucked you off then and there. I could've just stayed with Jungwon. I'm sure we would've found a way to occupy our time with you being busy."
Sunghoon scowled. He hated hearing Jungwon’s name come from your mouth. "I get mad, what, one time, compared to the dozens of meltdowns you have?"
Unable to give a good retort to that at the moment, you found yourself marching away from Sunghoon again and towards your room. He was right. You've been a bitch to him over far too little and he let you get away with it time and time again. You were at a standstill. However, there way no way in hell you'd admit to any wrongdoing.
"Bullshit, Park," you muttered as you heard him get up from the sofa to follow you.
"What, so you get to basically grind against a guy in front of my face, but I can't even have girls over at my place? You're such a fucking hypocrite!" He spat, leaping from the couch and barging after you. His hand caught onto your shoulder to spin you around to face him properly, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Hypocrite? It was just fucking dancing! They’re two entirely different things. I'm practically a saint compared to you." You slapped away his hand, not wanting to feel the way it scorched into your skin. "Go find some whore to cream on your shit and leave me alone, like you always do."
"Oh, so now you want me to hook up with other girls?" Sunghoon snorted, noting the fire in your eyes when he said it. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't, huh? I didn't even want any of them, I was trying to get to you. But you left! I was searching everywhere for you, only to see you—"
"Oh my god, since when have you cared? Why are you acting like... like... What is up with you today, huh?" Your mind felt like it was scrambled, trying to find some plausible explanation for Sunghoon’s behavior as of late. "What... what is this? Some weird, twisted way of getting back at me or something? Showing me how it feels for you?"
The look in his eyes was indiscernible, as though he himself was trying to process it. "I'm not— I'm never trying to hurt you—“
"Then why do you even give other girls the time of day when you know it makes me upset, huh? Why do you still do it? And the moment I give a guy a second of my attention you're hauling me out. You say I'm the hypocrite, but look at you! Every fucking time we go out I have to see some bitch ogling you, begging to fuck you, and I have to sit with the fact that there's always a real possibility that you'll let her, you sleazy, fucking manwhore!"
The heat in your face should've been your first warning that your control was slipping. Your eyes welled with tears, and you tried to choke it down, hating the lump forming in your throat, making your words crack. You're so stupid! He just didn't get it. He'd never get it. How could you even begin to explain your delusions, your paranoia, your possessiveness, your jealousy? He'd be glad to be rid of you if you did. You'd drive him away further than you already have. You've been loyal to him for years, and meanwhile he was out fucking anything that could walk. Never even considering you, even though he was promised to you.
But clearly he didn't think of himself as yours, so why were you making such an effort to still be his?
"Fuck you, Sunghoon!" You shoved him back, chest heaving as you attempted to choke the tears down. The sooner he let you retreat to the safety of your bedroom, the better. "I don't need you."
You knew those words were the biggest lie to ever leave your mouth as soon as you said it. Both of you locked up, holding your breath as the sentence hung between you two. You wanted to take it back immediately, your stomach twisting as you blurted out the words. You didn't mean them. They weren't true. You just desperately wanted to not need him.
Sunghoon’s expression was unreadable, the heat from the anger radiating off of him now cooling to something much darker, more sinister.
It set you on edge, not knowing how Sunghoon was going to react. You always knew how he was going to react. You knew him like the back of your hand. There were no secrets between you two.
And yet...
Something about him right now made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
You took a step back wanting to put distance between you two, but that seemed to be the wrong move. You jumped when your back unexpectedly hit the wall of your bedroom, cornered. You lifted off of it, straightening your back, not wanting to show any intimidation. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, unbridled rage and coldness now filling usually soft, warm irises. He stepped forward, crowding your space as you shivered before him, refusing to so much as breathe. His hands went to the wall behind you, arms on either side to cage you in and prevent escape.
His head hung down, letting his fringe hide his eyes for a moment as he stared down at your trembling body. A small smile quirked at his lips, and he let out an ominous, low chuckle at last. It wasn't one of humor, it was one that let you know he was absolutely livid.
Fuck. You fucked up.
You had never seen Sunghoon this angry before.
"God, you're such a fucking bitch," he finally said, hissing the words under his breath.
You didn't respond, feeling too meek in front of him suddenly. He wasn't telling you anything you hadn't heard before.
"That's all you ever do, after all I do for you. Just bitch at me like you're trying to get a rise out of me," Sunghoon huffed, lifting his head and glaring back at you. The look in his eyes made you feel as though you had been dunked in ice water. "Well guess what sweetheart? It fucking worked."
You gasped as his hand met your neck, pushing you backward until your back hit the wall again. His fingers slid up and gripped your jaw, tilting your face up towards his. You're given no choice but to hold eye contact with his furious expression, his rage palpable. You gulped, a movement he no doubt felt under his palm. He could sense how nervous you were, your heartbeat quickening beneath the pads of his fingertips. You looked so helpless, almost scared. It was so cute.
But not cute enough to dissuade his anger.
Sunghoon bared his teeth, a look of disgust taking over his features as he looked down at your pathetic, pliant form. "You finally managed to piss me off."
You trembled in his hold as you questioned what he meant. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to leave you forever? Or was he going to crush your windpipe right here, as revenge for all of your insufferable behavior? Frankly you'd prefer the second. You didn't know if you could live in a world without him. You said you didn't need him? Fine. He could take your word up on that. You blinked up at him, waiting for him to say whatever damning words he was preparing in his head. To tell you off and discard you like he used to refuse to do.
It never came though, his head instead dipping down to kiss you.
Your eyes widened, unable to react or process what was happening, the mere fact his lips were on yours. Sunghoon seemed lost in it, however, closing his eyes and groaning into your mouth as he kissed you harder, the back of your head pressing against the wall as he furiously took you. His hand tightened on your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks and forcing you to let out a gasp that parted your lips. He took advantage of the opportunity, skillfully slipping his tongue in and licking into your mouth. The ease at which he was able to dominate your tongue against his made your knees weak, your eyes closing as you tried to memorize the feeling of his mouth. His grip on your chin stayed tight, angling you just right for him to devour you completely, nowhere to escape from him. His body pressed against yours, leaving you no space between him and the wall. You were trapped to take his every desire.
When his mouth finally parted from yours, you're left gasping for breath, soft pants of air let out as your mind whirred with questions. He stared at you, his eyes still narrowed and glowering, but now with a hint of something you weren't at all used to seeing from him. At least, not towards you.
His eyes wandered over your expression for a moment, searching your face for some form of displeasure. You're already left flushed and panting from just a kiss, though, and all he could think about was everything he wanted to do you, and what expression you might make if you let him. He kissed you again, and this time you're ready for it, leaning in too and eagerly meeting his lips and trying to match his pace. His hand slid down from your jaw to once more be placed on your throat, giving it a small squeeze, and the whimper that escaped your mouth was fucking delicious.
Sunghoon smirked as you whined against him, pulling back to whisper against your lips. "Pretty girl likes that, huh? Like my hand against your throat?" His fingers flexed slightly. "Or do you just like kissing me that much?"
Your face burned at his question, never hearing him talk to you in such a manner. Pretty girl. Those two words rung in your ears on repeat. The fact he knew you liked it made your cheeks burn even hotter.
He chuckled as you blinked up at him blankly. "C'mon, you were so chatty just a second ago. Say something." He grinned at your flustered expression, hand sliding back up to cup your cheeks and part your lips in an unflattering pout. His expression turned stony as he stared down at you. "I said speak."
You weren't used to this Sunghoon— the one who gave commands instead of taking them. Furthermore, you were finding yourself liking it a lot more than you'd care to admit. "Yes," you let out in a barely-there whisper.
"Yes what?" He raised a brow, clearly having no intent on letting you go that easily. He eased his hold on your face, letting his fingers softly brush back down to the base of your throat, leaving them as a reminder.
"Yes, I—" you shakily gulped, knowing he could feel every bit of it. "I like it. I—" You leaned forward, pressing your neck back into his palm, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling akin to a choker. "I like it all."
"All, huh?" He snickered under his breath, pulling back his hand much to your disappointment. He brushed the hair out of your face, combing through the strands in a way you'd usually find comforting. Now you felt more vulnerable. Seen. "Think you could handle it all?"
Your heart leapt out of your chest, and you blinked repeatedly trying to gauge his words. "Handle what?"
His fingers curled into the hair at the back of your head and brought you closer to him, lips barely brushing against yours as he stared into your eyes. "Me fucking you."
Your mouth gaped open once again, though no words came out. You couldn't believe this was real. If it was a dream may you never wake up.
"C'mon, be a big girl and use your words," he scolded. "Do you want it?"
"I—" You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly going dry. "I want it."
"Yeah?" He breathed out, voice going quieter with yours. "Want me?"
You're momentarily distracted by him licking his lips too, and your mind jumps back to what a good kisser he is. You'd probably do anything at this point just to get him to kiss you like that again.
"Yes," you finally admitted, your word quiet and small, like a precious secret.
You wanted Sunghoon. You wanted him to be yours alone in every sense of the word. You wanted to be the one in his bed and experience the prowess he earned. You tried not to think of the practice he had, and your lack of experience in comparison.
Does he truly want you like that? After all these years?
Or were you just another girl that was nearby and convenient, like the so called whores you always admonished?
He let go of you for a moment to yank you towards the bed, and you let out a sharp shriek of surprise as you bounced against the springs in your mattress. Sunghoon’s dark eyes never left you, crawling on top and brushing the tip of his nose against yours.
"Not Jungwon?" he questioned. Jungwon. You hadn't even been able to really think about him since Sunghoon dragged you away. Not that you cared that much about him.
But Sunghoon seemed to.
You couldn't help it, the words crawling out of your mouth automatically. Some part of you still wanted to win over him in some facet. Maybe that's why you'd always rehash arguments. They were rematches for you two. "Why, are you actually jealous, Hoonie?"
Sunghoon’s face soured at the use of the old pet name. One you'd used to use with affection, now mainly used with spite. That, and the fact you didn't immediately say no about Jungwon. Were you still thinking of him? Were you wishing he was the one in Sunghoon’s place right now?
"First," Sunghoon grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. You loved the caged in feeling Sunghoon’s been providing today— both protective and intimidating. Before you could only imagine this view. "You know better than to provoke me like that, don't you, brat?"
You did, but something about seeing him get so riled up over it made you want to both run and get caught.
"Second," his hand came up the side of your face, his thumb sliding up to your lips, wordlessly demanding you suck. "Jungwon will never fuck you the way I'm about to. I promise you that."
He'll never even get the chance, is what he wanted to add.
"Yeah?" Your words were muffled around his thumb. He slid it out, again giving you that oh so comforting weight on your neck. You bit your lip, almost amused by how hot and bothered he seems to be. "And what makes you so sure?"
"Fucking tease." Sunghoon was practically seeing red with your quips, his grip on your neck slightly tightening in warning. "Tread lightly, baby. You might get more than you bargained for."
You frowned slightly, tilting your head as you look up at him. "Pity. I always figured you were more of a taker."
"Oh?" This time he increased the pressure on your throat. You wished he would free you so you could grab onto him and anchor him tighter against you. "Take? You want me to just take what I want? The way you do? Want me to take everything I've been fucking wanting for years? Even if you can't handle it? Want me to take out my frustration on you for every time you've bitched and bossed me around?"
You thighs squirmed beneath him as he ranted on, squeezing against each other as arousal pooled in your stomach. Your nails dug into the skin, a smile spreading across your face as you saw him get visibly worked up. "Oh? Can't?"
"Fuck..." he growled, narrowing his eyes. "Watch."
You're in absolute heaven as he dove back down to connect his lips with yours, making your head spin from both the euphoria and lack of blood flow to your brain. His tongue danced against your own, fighting against you to force you to submit to him. The combination of both choking and making out seemed like something straight out of a twitter link, and yet your best friend was doing it to you in real time. You never thought you'd see the day.
The hand holding your wrists let go, weaving beneath your head to grip onto your hair, pulling your head back to angle your face the way he wanted. Your hands flew to his forearm, feeling the way it flexed beneath your fingers.
Your grip tightened as you try to keep up with his kisses, taking small gasps of air when you got the chance. Sunghoon couldn't seem to get enough of you, though, fully okay with taking away all your air so long as it meant he got to keep kissing you.
His hands started riding up your shirt, clawing to get your clothes off. None of the times he's peeped at you when you were changing or saw you getting out of a shower prepared him for this. The idea of seeing you naked in front of him in this context sent his heart rate rocketing, going far beyond the dirty dreams he had of you. And he planned to fulfill every single one, just for you, since you were his favorite.
You're barely able to contain your squeak when his hand slid up to cup your bra, tugging it down enough to free a nipple for him to pinch and play with. You arched, aching for his touch, feeling his long, nimble fingers rub the sensitive bud and pull beneath the fabric of your top.
Impatient as he was, though, he ceased kissing you to tug your shirt over your head, yanking it up and tugging both cups of your bra beneath your breasts to get a better look, admiring how they looked still partially pushed up by undergarment.
The sight of you panting, nipples hard and aching for him to tease them more, was almost enough to make him burst on the spot.
He brought one hand back to your other breast, touch as light as a feather as he slowly circled your areola, admiring how you shuddered beneath him.
"You're so sensitive," he observed, refusing to give you any more just yet. "Is this what you wanted?"
You bit your lip, feeling like he was driving you crazy with how slow he was going. "Wanted you to actually do something," you hissed, trying to get him to touch you more, frustrated beyond belief with how soft he was being now. "You're boring me."
His nostrils flared at that, the jab clearly succeeding.
"Boring?" he repeated, eyes narrowing at your brattiness.
You didn't have time to react before he slapped your tit harshly, making you howl as he gave them both a tight grip, his palms now squeezing and kneading at your breasts without pretense.
"You can't even be good for five seconds, huh?" He hissed out the words, harshly tugging at your nipples and letting them go, seeing how your breasts bounced back before he slapped the other for good measure. "Just have to be a brat like always."
You tried to grab onto his wrists for some control, but it angered him more, grabbing your hands and shoving them into the mattress as he dipped his head down to sink his teeth into one of the fleshy mounds.
Your back bent like a bow, hands trying to push against his with no avail as he bit you. Your cry was pathetic, shrill, surprised, everything Sunghoon dreamed of.
He finally took his mouth off you, your skin shiny with spit where his bite mark was. You could make out the individual indents of his teeth printed on you. He squeezed your wrists one more time in warning, keeping them firmly pressed. "Stay."
He let go of you, and shockingly enough, you were obedient. You anxiously waited for what he would do next, hands beside your head.
Sunghoon took his time undressing you, savoring the anticipation that built up from the very moment he took off your top. He reached beneath your back and unclipped your bra, taking it off and throwing it carelessly to the side. It was when he started tugging your pants off that your breath hitched, realization for what was truly about to happen finally dawning on you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, the final article to be taken off. You felt so exposed in front of him, but his hungry eyes and ravenous expression told you that he was far beyond pleased with what he saw.
Yeah, you definitely weren't like a sister to him.
"Fuck, I knew it," Sunghoon breathed out as he slowly slid your underwear down your legs, admiring the string of wetness that stretched between the fabric and your pussy until it snapped in half. "Knew you'd be pretty here too."
You blushed at his compliment, immediately trying to close your legs when you felt Sunghoon’s fingers begin to explore your body, running up and down your inner thighs. The two of you hadn't yet begun, and somehow Sunghoon was already going above and beyond your wildest fantasies by reaching into the twisted underbelly of your desire.
"Ah-ah, spread your legs. There we go. Don't hide yourself from me." His digits travelled up and down your folds, feeling how wet you already were. All he's done was kiss you a bit, and you're this worked up? You always worried about being the one to ruin him for good, but the opposite might just be true. "Fuck... meant it when I said you were the prettiest I've ever seen."
Your mind spun back to the phone call with Sasha, how he talked about how bad he wanted her and all the things he would do to her...
All the things he was going to do to you right now.
Sunghoon grinned down at you mischievously as you twitched beneath his touch. "Yeah, baby. Fuck you're so beautiful. Always thought so. Prettier than all those other girls. Fuck, they couldn't even fucking compare."
"Sunghoon..."
"Oh would you look at that. She does know my name," he crooned sweetly, bringing his other hand to your folds, clit trapped beneath two fingers as he slid them teasingly up and down your sex, pinning your hips down as you started to move against him. "What happened to Hoonie and Park, huh?"
"Fine then, Park," you gritted out, annoyed with how cocky he was becoming already.
"So much attitude." Sunghoon tsked, pinching your clit one more time before slapping your cunt, watching your hips jump in response. "Why don't you make yourself cum, then. Since you don't need me."
He slipped his hand away from you, enjoying the whine that followed.
Fuck, that wasn't want you wanted. You were already beginning to miss Sunghoon’s touch, and you hadn't even gotten to feel him inside of you yet.
You felt another smack against you at your hesitation, your best friend clearly not pleased with your disobedience.
"I'm waiting," he reminded, voice laced with irritation.
You shakily brought one of the hands by your head down to your pussy, cupping your heat and slowly rubbing your fingers up and down. Your other hand came up to toy with your nipple, pinching and rolling the bud to replicate the earlier feeling. You've done this a million times already, often imagining something quite similar to this. Still, seeing Sunghoon hovering above you in real life went far beyond your daydreams, and the wet sounds of your fingers sliding between your folds did little to conceal how turned on you were by the sight.
"Fuck, that's it. You're so wet. You must like me a lot, huh?" Sunghoon’s smug smile stretched across his face, enjoying watching how your face burned and your fingers pressed harder against yourself with his teasing.
"You're delusional," you spat out, thighs twitching when you trap your clit between two knuckles, same as he did, applying the perfect amount of pressure.
"Am I?" His eyes weren't leaving your fingers, watching how you quickened your pace, pressing harder against your own hand. Desperate. Just how he wanted you. "Go ahead and put a finger inside."
You did so, your walls easily accommodating the small digit as you curled it inside of yourself, pressing your mound deep against your palm as you repeated the motion inside. You spread your legs a bit wider, feeling yourself become stimulated on both in and out, but it wasn't enough.
Sunghoon knew it, too.
"Another." His voice came off strained now, an edge to it that made it sound like he was the one becoming frustrated.
You obeyed, feeling a little bit fuller, but not enough. You dragged your hand further out before pumping back inside, trying to reach deeper.
He smirked, watching your hips circle as you tried to fuck your own hand, your eyes practically pleading with everything you refused to admit.
He trailed a finger along the inside of your thigh, fingernail barely grazing against you as he encouraged you to continue. "Do you need help?" His coo was patronizing, his smile growing bigger as he watched you glare back at him in defiance.
"N-No," you denied, curling your fingers deep again.
"Mm, I think you do. Those tiny little fingers can't reach where you need, huh?" He put his hand on top of yours, not going inside, just feeling how yours moved beneath his with every curl and drag of your digits. "Bet I can get in deeper than you ever could. I could hit the spots that drive you crazier than you already are."
He hand slid lower, fingertips grazing just above where your own sunk into your entrance.
"I don't think you're doing it right," he sighed, shaking his head out of pity. "How do you not even know how to touch yourself properly?"
"I... I do!" Your brain was starting to become fuzzy with his words, hips jolting up a little as though to protest with you.
He shook his head again, like he didn't believe you. "You need help. You're never going to finish at this rate."
You bit your lip, pumping your fingers harder, pressing further against your palm. He was right. It wasn't enough.
"Just ask for help, baby, c'mon. I can show you how to do it, but you have to ask nicely."
The last thing you typically ever wanted to do was prove Sunghoon right.
Then why were you nodding your head in agreement, with tears pricking your eyes in frustration?
Quietly, as though you were ashamed to say it, "Help me. Please."
You wanted to smack the triumphant smile off his face the moment you saw it, but found no room to protest when his fingers slowly slid in alongside yours, stretching you out as he curled them inside, making you bend to his will. Your body seemed all too eager to accept any part of him after all these years. You felt him control the pace of how you fucked yourself, his digits pressed snugly against yours as he pumped them in and out, hitting deeper just like he promised.
You moaned as he hit your g-spot, the combination of both of your fingers inside of you making your head spin. You must've been wearing the most wanton expression, your eyes slightly crossed, your cheeks warming as you felt pleasure take over, mouth parting as a moan left your lips.
That's it. That's the look Sunghoon’s been dreaming of seeing.
"See? Doesn't that feel so much better?" The obscenely wet gush of your pussy around both of your digits seemed to answer for you. "Doesn't it feel so good when someone finally hits it right?"
You couldn't even properly speak, mouth hanging open as you absentmindedly nodded for him yet again.
"Hm? Don't want to talk?" He thrust a bit firmer now, his aim deliberate and precise against the spot that had your thighs trembling. "I can feel how much deeper I get in this little pussy in comparison to you. Doesn't it feel so good?"
"H-Hoon—"
"Not my name." He thrusted his digits harder as punishment, forcing your own fingers in deeper as well.
You were starting to get close, he could tell. The pleasured look on your face was getting harder to mask.
"Could've had this any time, you know. I would've given it to you." He leaned in, lips curled into a smile and barely brushing against yours as he whispered, "All you had to do was ask."
"I—" You gasped against him, your palm now firmly glued to your clit, pathetically humping against it as he pressed his hand harder on top of yours. "I couldn't!"
"So stubborn," he hummed, pulling his fingers out and tugging at your wrist as well to leave you completely empty.
You were about to whine, but any argument you had died on your tongue the moment his hand returned.
He didn't give you a second to think about it, the two fingers going back inside you and repeatedly hitting your g-spot hard and firm. You didn't think he was going to be able to figure out your body so quickly, and you were already falling apart at his every touch. His other hand came up to pinch at your folds, squeezing your clit between them until the thumb on the hand pounded you reached up to press light circles. All you could do was moan and gasp as he alternated between keeping your clit trapped between two fingers and rubbing between your folds or pounding into you deep and reaching parts you yourself had trouble stimulating. Just as you got used to one, he switched to the other, never letting you get too used to one either sensation too long.
"Bet you've never felt this good," he hissed under his breath, giddy at seeing you fall apart from his hands. "You've got such a cute, dumb look on your face right now."
You couldn't bite back a retort, practically choking on the words you wanted to say.
As much as Sunghoon typically got annoyed by your constant need to have the last word, he couldn't help but anticipate every response you were having to him now.
"Hm? Don't tell me you're too fucked out to speak already," he mused, watching you whine and squirm as he once again pulled his fingers out of you. "You usually have so much to say."
Able to recollect your thoughts while riding the edge he had you on, all you could feel was frustration and arousal. You'd think it'd be your baseline at this point. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole!"
"So much attitude, huh?" He grinned at your vulgarity, cupping your face to crash your lips against his.
You chased after him automatically, groaning into the kiss despite the ache left in your stomach as your orgasm washed away. He licked against your tongue, swallowing your moan and snaking it around yours as he did so. He pulled back slightly, nibbling against your bottom and licking over it in apology. With impatience he slipped his way back between your parted lips, intent on stealing every sigh you had to offer. He hummed, the vibration against your lips sending a tingle down your spine.
You broke away for a second, breathless. "What're you going to do about it?"
If Sunghoon didn't know you better, he would've scoffed at your sheer audacity. He knew you like the back of his hand, however, and you weren't someone who was going to break easily, no matter how badly you wanted to. "It's about time we fix that."
"Do your worst."
The challenge hung in the air for just a moment before Sunghoon accepted.
"I intend to."
He slapped your ass hard, tossing you back down onto the bed, watching you bounce slightly against the springs. You gasped in surprise, and his hand slapped against your mouth, the movement sharp enough to leave a sting but not hard enough to not leave a mark.
Sunghoon grabbed your jaw and straightened your head to look back at him, letting your mind whir. He leaned in close to your face, studying your expression.
"I intend to do a lot of things tonight."
You licked your lips, now tingling, trying to pull yourself together to stay present, trying to show at least some semblance of self restraint.
Sunghoon on the other hand was unsure of whether you really wanted to take it this far. Were you ready to face the consequences the way he was?
He bit his lip, clearly mulling over something in his mind. You, on the other hand, grew impatient, wondering what was taking him so long. You glared at him expectantly, confused by the unease in his eyes.
"What?" You practically bit out the words, unsure if there was something wrong. Did he suddenly see something he didn't like? It didn't seem like it with how he was all over you earlier. That, and he was clearly very hard.
"Are you... are you sure you want this?"
The question stunned you, throwing you for a loop.
"Excuse me?"
"It's just—" He licked his lips, trying to find the right words. "I don't want you to feel pressured just because I want—"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that. This was not the time for second thoughts, and you most definitely wanted this. Needed it, in fact, or you'd die on the spot.
"Shut up and get your dick out, Park." You rose a brow, testing him. "Unless you're scared you can't meet expectations."
Ah. There it is. He almost forgot for a second who he was dealing with. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, hands finally going down to his waistband to reveal your prize. "Fine. Careful what you ask for, brat."
Your eyes widened when he yanked down his underwear as well, and your thighs automatically pressed together.
You should've known. You should've known the universe had it out against you by giving Sunghoon a dick too big, too pretty for words. It was much more than you deserved, and quite possibly much more than you could take.
It wasn't just the length that concerned you, but rather the intimidating girth. Your cunt immediately clenched in anticipation as you eyed up his cock, thinking about how much he was going to stretch you out when he finally managed to fit all of himself inside you.
"That's—" Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to form words, and you licked your suddenly dry lips. "How am I—"
Sunghoon gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze to lift from his cock to his face, his eyes leaving no room for argument. "You've been begging for this dick for years, and now you're finally gonna take it."
It wasn't until you slowly nodded in agreement that he smiled, pumping his dick in his hand to get it even harder for you. He grabbed your thighs, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed until your ass dangled over it, Sunghoon’s cock now sliding along your folds, lubricating himself.
He ran the tip up and down your sex, eyes flying up to your face to study your expression when he nudged against your clit. He searched for any doubt in your eye, any semblance of anything besides lust.
"Are you ready?" His words were quiet, just one last check in before he sunk home, and neither of you could go back.
You stared up at him, eyes searching his as well now. You didn't say a word, just grabbed his dick, feeling the weight of him in your palm, and aligning him with your entrance.
That's so like you. You never second guess anything once you put your mind to it.
Sunghoon slowly slid inside, bullying himself into you and forcing your walls to accommodate him. You held your breath, the stretch around him making you feel impossibly full already. Neither of you looked away from the other, eyes locked on one another's, unable to look away. Both of you were greedy, wanting to read every micro-expression of the other's as you joined. It wasn't until his balls were pressed snug against your ass that you felt the cockhead kiss your cervix, a perfect fit, like a the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
The other half.
Sunghoon must've felt it too, muttering a quick curse under his breath as he stilled inside of you, savoring the feeling. "Fuck, you feel perfect around me. Perfect little cocksleeve."
You gasped when he pulled his hips back before plunging into you, letting the feeling of how full you were overwhelm you.
"Slutty pussy— fuck, you feel so good," he panted, another staccato thrust burying into you. "Take it so well."
You squeezed your eyes shut, turning to the side, heat rushing through your cheeks as you felt him reach deeper and deeper inside of you, just to see when you ended. Sunghoon didn't like that. He tsked, grabbing your jaw and turning your face towards him.
"Look at me."
Part of you wanted to continue being bratty, squeeze your eyes shut harder and shake your head in earnest. And yet, you were opening your eyes, looking back at your best friend, knowing he was studying every lewd look on your face. Your half lidded eyes, your parted lips, the flush in your cheeks. Your other half knew what you looked like turned on, what you looked like getting fucked, what you looked like underneath him. This was something neither of you could ever undo.
"Good girl," Sunghoon grinned, patting your jaw roughly in condescension, like you were some pet who liked it like that. Which you were, obviously. "You're gonna look at me when I fuck you baby."
He rolled his hips, letting you feel what he felt like when he stayed buried deep inside you, nudging against that spot that seemed only he could find.
"Want you to know exactly who's fucking you." His hand never left your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him as you took in what it really meant to be fucked by him.
You wanted to cover your face all over again. The pathetic look in your eye was practically begging for mercy already.
"If you so much think of complaining I'll pull out right now and let you finish yourself off," Sunghoon threatened. Your thighs clenched at the threat, the possibility being the worst thing you could think of in this moment.
"No!" Your bratty pout was so endearing to him. "Please don't stop. Please, Hoonie."
The nickname sounded so sweet in this context. Still, he wanted to hear you moan his name properly.
"Shouldn't even let you cum, you're such a fucking bitch to me," Sunghoon groaned, pounding harder into you as he felt himself getting close. "You don't—fuck—deserve it, do you?"
"No," you whined, hoping to appease him enough for him to give you grace. "Please, please let me cum Sunghoon."
"Mm, I'll think about it." You couldn't slap the evil grin off of Sunghoon’s face even if you wanted to. His eyes lit up with glee at the frustration you felt, his hips slamming harder against yours, as though trying to dig in deeper.
You mewled, squirming beneath him like a pathetic pet. A needy moan left your lips, much whinier than you intended.
“Fuuuck you’re doing so good for me,” Sunghoon groaned, slapping your breast again as a reward. “You gonna behave?”
Your desperate nod of affirmation only added to your embarrassment at his words. Your gut twisted into knots as he plowed into you, his pace unrelenting, and your orgasm approaching too fast.
You pressed a hand against the hard plane of his abdomen, trying to soften the blows. You gnawed on your bottom lip, the hand weakly pushing against him doing nothing to ease the pace. "It's— fuck, Sunghoon— it's too much!"
"Nah," he grunted, sneering at you, slapping your hand again and gripping onto your hips tighter to force you to meet his thrusts even harder.. "You're gonna take what I give you and shut up for once."
You shook your head at the overwhelming feeling taking over you, tears pricking your eyes as you pushed both hands this time against his abdomen.
Sunghoon grabbed onto both wrists now, pulling against them in time with him, using your resistance as another tool to fuck yourself on his cock. You could see the bulge in your lower stomach move along with him, seeing exactly how deep in your guts he was getting. Your pussy pulsated around him, your release near.
Sunghoon knew exactly what that meant.
He shoved your hands back down to the mattress, leaning closer over you, snaking his tongue back in your mouth and reaching one hand down to have his thumb stimulate your clit, earning a delicious cry for him to swallow.
He was in absolute heaven right now.
"You're about to cum for me, aren't you?" He huffed in your ear, smile evident in his voice. "Can feel you clenching around me. Gonna cream on my shit like a proper bitch, aren't you? Gonna make it all nice and messy on me."
"F-Fuck, s-shut up!" You wailed out the words, tipping your head back in ecstasy as he continued pounding into you.
"Yeah? Want me to shut up, baby? Hate it that much?" He hissed, rubbing harder circles against your clit, the sensation too much, just the way you like it. "Why are you close, then, huh?"
You clearly weren't doing a good job of hiding it, with your stammering, uneven breathing, flushed face, and hooded eyes. You were twisting in his arms, refusing to stay still at all, as though not ready for what was to come.
"Sunghoon... please..."
Fuck, you sounded so cute right now. Damn him for always having a weak spot for you. He was really looking forward to edging you all night.
"Cum for me," he cooed in your ear, his voice a soft caress, a drastic juxtaposition to the harsh thrusts that were currently ruining you. "Let me finally feel how this slutty pussy creams all over me. Nasty little slut."
You bit your lip, feeling your pussy pulse harder against him as the heat floods through you and all over him, just as ordered.
Good pet.
He moaned, hands gripping onto your hips hard as he ignored your squeals of oversensitivity, your orgasm renewing him with much vigor. You were completely pressed against the mattress, so much so that you could slight feel the springs underneath. Sunghoon pounded into you faster, his head coming down to nip and such at your neck, leaving possessive marks in it's wake.
"Mine," he growled against your skin, "My fucking slut. Say it."
"I-I'm... I... fuck..." you whined, unable to properly think with how fast he was drilling into you, your sex still trembling from the orgasm that still lingered.
"Say it," he nipped your neck, his teeth a warning. "You're mine."
"I'm yours!" Your voice was a breathy gasp, a cute whine Sunghoon wanted to eat. "I'm.... I'm yours... Your slut... Y-Yours!"
The groan that left Sunghoon was purely animalistic, his press against you more insistent, his hips moving against you as though to blend with you entirely.
"Yes... Fuck yes, that's it... Such a needy little whore, fuck." He kissed your lips, his hands tightening around your hips, his thrusts growing sloppy. "Tightest... fucking best pussy ever. Mmmm, take it just like that, baby. Just like you're supposed to."
One particular thrust knocked the wind out of you, sending your brain spinning as you gasped out.
"Fuck!" You felt your orgasm building back up. "You're going— fuck, you're going so fucking hard!"
"Yeah? You like this?" He snarled, kissing your lips as he ground his hips harder into yours. "Like having your best friend fuck you like a slut?"
"Mmmf, m-more—!"
"Fucking—!" Sunghoon groaned, shaking his head slightly before his hips automatically caved to your request, pounding into you with all your could take, and you knew there'd be bruises in the morning.
"Course a slut like you would want more," he rasped, shaking his head again as though he were a fool to believe otherwise. "Always wanted more, haven't you?"
You bit your lip, the coil in your belly tightening to an absurd degree.
"Want me to give you all my attention, that it? Want me to handle my brat?" He said the words with a slight smile, like he already knew the answer. "Want me to fuck this cunt open until the attitude's all gone?"
You nodded desperately, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes back. "Yes!"
"Fuck, that's it." He rasped the words in your ear before pressing a small kiss against the shell. "Remember I'm the only one who can do it properly. I'm the only one who can fuck you like this. You're mine."
Your orgasm snapped through you, your legs tightening around Sunghoon’s hips and pulling him into you, like you didn't want him to leave. You locked around him, forcing him to feel every tremor of your pussy around his shaft, and how your orgasm looked up close and person, how it felt around him. Not that he'd want to be anywhere else. There was no place he'd rather be.
"Mm, fuck, so fucking hot. You're finally fucking learning," he cooed, his voice patronizing and delicious all at once. He was just as bratty as you at times. He started thrusting again, helping you ride it out and pushing himself closer to the edge.
"T-That's it, just fuck me like you hate me," you snarled out, nails scratching down his skin as the last few remnants of your orgasm twitched through your limbs.
Sunghoon slowed down, furrowing his brows, panting as he stared down at you.
"I don't hate you baby," he rasped out, shaking head. "I love you."
Suddenly, all you heard was white noise.
You twisted your eyes shut, shaking your head. Before you know it, everything's impossibly more overwhelming. And not in the same way it was before. "Wh—That's— That's not—"
Sunghoon started slowing his pounding down to a much slower pace, now more so grinding against you in a steady, deep rhythm. His pelvis stayed glued against yours, pressing against your clit as he buried as deep as he could against you. "I don't want to just fuck you," he whispered, leaning in close to brush the tip of his nose against yours, large eyes peering into yours. "I want to make love to you."
It felt like your heart was about to burst at the seams, and you were left with more emotions than you knew what to do with.
"I…you don't…"
"I do," he said surely, his voice low and confident as he felt you clench around him.
You weren’t sure you could handle this level of things. The concept of Sunghoon actually making love to you was enough to make your brain explode. Rough, hard sex was already it’s own thing you’d have to deal with. This was something else entirely.
"Just hurry up!"
"No." He shook his head, rolling his hips in an infuriatingly slow pace again. "Wanna take my time with you."
"Fuck, how're you still such a dick head?"
"You know what?" He pressed his palm against your cheek, rolling his thumb over it as he kissed you softly. "You give me all this backtalk, but I think you're gonna come for me again anyways."
You quivered around him as he reached particularly deep inside of you, hitting a sensitive spot.
"Wanna know why?"
He rolled his hips slowly, eyes never leaving your face as you squirmed again.
"Because you like me, too," he whispered, pushing in with another devastating thrust that had you going weak. "You like me so much you don't even know how to act anymore."
You trembled beneath him, the slow, rhythmic pace of his cock against your sweet spot and the deep grind of his pelvis against your clit slowly but surely pushing you to that edge again. What was even worse about it was how Sunghoon made you to look in his eyes, forcing you to stare up at how his brows knitted together when he himself started to get close, how he bit his lip as he stared down at you, like he was holding himself back until you came undone yet again.
"Fuck, that's it. Gonna take it however I want like a good girl, won't you?"
Sunghoon rebuilt your orgasm piece by piece, and took his time in doing so, quieting you when you whined and kissing you deeply enough that you could barely think about complaining anymore.
Your nails dug into his back, bright red lines following in their wake, a signal you were close. Sunghoon’s thrusts got sloppier, uneven, his own orgasm now threatening to take over.
He cradled your face in his hands, his pelvis tight against your clit with every grind, your bodies practically melded together.
"Come with me," he breathily begged, lips ghosting over yours with his plea. "Want you to do it with me. Want us to cum together, please baby."
That was your undoing.
You moaned into his mouth as you finally came again, and Sunghoon groaned as he pulled out and came on your stomach, his cock bobbing in the air as it twitched and let out spurts of cum onto your heaving abdomen.
Sunghoon collapsed on top of you, hugging you tightly as you both tried to regain your breath. You gasped at the feeling of his warmth against your skin, chest heaving against his.
He looked up at you, and his eyes so unexpectedly soft you couldn't help but melt for a moment. As though he hadn't just made you cum within an inch of your life.
“You’re—“ You struggled to catch your breath. “—fucking insane.”
Slowly, he lifted a bit higher, hesitantly leaning in as though he wanted to kiss you again. You reciprocated, leaning in as well, his lips soft as he slowly pressed against you, unhurried and unbothered. Just enjoying the taste of you on his lips. "Fuck, why do you fuck with my head like this?" He groaned softly, his voice a low whisper. "I told you I love you."
He cupped your breast, dipping his head now to capture your nipple in between his lips, sucking tenderly at the bud while making eye contact with yours. His eyes were almost pleading, such a jarring juxtaposition in comparison to his earlier demeanor. "You're such a fucking brat with me."
You let out a small huff of amusement, fingers tangling into his hair, a glimpse of your usual Hoonie back. "I have to make things difficult for you."
Your hands tightened into a fist in his hair, and he whined against your bud, giving a harsh suck in relation. "Why?" He asked, thick brows furrowed.
You couldn't help the small smirk that graced your lips. "Because we both know you like it."
He couldn't help the small smirk that graced his. What you said was the truth.
He rose up from your breast to kiss you on the lips again, this one sweet and deep, like he wanted to burn the feeling of your mouth against his into his memory. "Be with me," he panted when he broke the kiss. "More than just sex. Much more. I want to be the one who puts up with your bratty attitude. Only me. Let me."
"You already do," you whispered.
"More than before," he said, nudging his nose against yours. "Let me be your boyfriend. Please."
The corner of your mouth twitched.
Maybe you had a begging kink. Maybe you were also insane. But somehow you found yourself switching Sunghoon’s title from best friend to boyfriend with a simple, "Well, since you asked so nicely..."
—
The morning after you were sore all over, thick arms holding you pressed against one very naked chest. Sunghoon snored softly in your ear, and you were thankful he railed you so hard you were knocked out cold in the end. Sunghoon seemed to be in a similar state, still dreaming and clueless as you shimmied your way out of his grip and the bed. You hastily threw on his shirt and a pair of fresh panties, buzzing about the room with a nervousness you weren't used to.
The sight of Sunghoon shirtless in your bed, still dozing off, was enough to have your heart palpitating all over again.
Your mind flashed back to the night before, everything that happened. You gazed at your neck in the mirror, the marks left behind on your skin that proved it was all real.
Sunghoon was officially yours.
You weren't just his best friend anymore; now you were his girlfriend.
You couldn't help but swallow at the thought. What did that mean, exactly?
What would a good girlfriend do?
Maybe cook breakfast? Sunghoon was usually the one who cooked while you slept in during sleepovers, but clearly you had underestimated that one line in Anaconda about NyQuil. You meandered your way to the kitchen, deciding that you could at least cook scrambled eggs. You were so focused on the task, frying the freshly mixed batch in the pan, that you hardly noticed Sunghoon’s presence until those same arms wrapped around your middle.
"'Morning," he grumbled directly in your ear, his voice deep and raspy from his slumber. "I didn't know you knew how to cook."
You scoffed despite yourself. "I'm just not as good as you, ok? You know a lot more dishes than I do."
"I could always teach you." His lips brushed softly against your neck, and goosebumps littered your arms at the action.
"I prefer when you just do it for me."
His hands gripped on to your hips, and you were reminded once again of how different he could be when he really wanted to. "You're so spoiled."
You half expected him to punish you for it, bend you over the counter and take you there, but he doesn't. Instead his eyes lowered to your lips, and he looks back up as though for permission.
You leaned in a little, hesitant, holding your breath as you gave him an opening.
He slowly leaned in, one hand coming up to cup at your jaw, letting his lips press against yours. He slotted them in place, the kiss soft and firm, moving his lips again to deepen the kiss further. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as you leaned in further, letting your pace instinctually match his, the languid, unspoken rhythm taking over like you had all the time in the world. It felt natural, no sense of awkwardness or mess.
Sunghoon’s fingers twitched against your face, pulling you in closer, tilting his head so he can kiss you again and again, like hadn't been doing it properly before. You knew you could spend hours just feeling the sweet caress of his mouth against yours.
It wasn't until he pulled away and said, "Oh fuck, the eggs," that you realized oh fuck, the eggs.
"Shit shit shit!" You threw away your shitty burned eggs in the trash, your perfect kiss ruined by your failure of cuisine. "Fuck, I suck at this!"
"Hey hey, it's ok," Sunghoon took your face in his hands, turning you to face him "It's alright. I can make the eggs. I know you prefer fried anyways."
You bit your lip, staring up at your adoring, caring best— no, boyfriend.
You chuckled softly, feeling a bit silly all of the sudden. "I think I'm already sucking at this whole girlfriend thing."
"Are you kidding? You knocked my ass out and now you're making me breakfast? This is more than I ever expected," he assured you.
"Well, now you're the one making breakfast, because I'm one bad slip from setting my place on fire," you sighed.
"Nah, you're not that bad. I was just distracting you." He pecked you again on the lips, like he just couldn't help himself. "And you're right. I'm the better cook."
"I think I specifically said you knew more dishes," you recalled.
Sunghoon shrugged. "Same thing. And besides, I like cooking for my girlfriend."
You felt your cheeks heat up at the very word, Sunghoon no doubt noticing. You glared at him when he smiled back; of course he noticed. "You know us officially dating doesn't magically solve all of our problems, right?"
"I never thought it would," Sunghoon said.
"We'll probably still fight. A lot."
"Don't most old married couples? We're just used to each other already, like them."
You rolled your eyes a bit at that. "And you're ok with that?"
"There's no one I'd rather end arguments with than you," he grinned, pinching your cheeks just to annoy you. "Because you're the one always starting them."
You scrunched your nose, turning your head to nip at his fingers, pulling him in a bit closer to kiss him, because now you finally can. "Want me to start something else?"
Sunghoon’s eyes seemed to light up at that, turning off the stove and lifting you onto the cool marble countertop. "So you are still serving me breakfast," he quipped teasingly, tugging your panties off and spreading your legs.
"You're such a good girlfriend," Sunghoon mumbled quietly to himself before descending between your thighs.
You buried your hand in his hair, looking down and wondering how the fuck both of you were so stupid as to not do this before.
in which heeseung is a very overstimulated and whiny mess who just wants to cum together with you ♡ ❀ — nsfw warning!!
heeseung would be an absolute wreck from holding back for so long while he’s deep inside you, because he wants—no, he needs to come undone along with you :(
his sinewy arms would be shaking with the sheer effort it takes to keep his composure as he plows his throbbing cock deeper and deeper into your pussy, hips moving at a delicious rhythm to get you closer and closer to the edge because he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it
especially with how you greedily lock your legs around his hips, practically begging him to fuck a baby into you… or how you moan and pant in his ear so sinfully like the fucked-out bunny you are
his velvety dirty talk quickly slips into desperate groans and whines in your ear as his eyes threaten to roll back from how impossibly close he was to reaching his climax. “baby… i love you so, so much… m’gonna cum all inside your pussy real soon… don’t know how much longer i can hold on…”
“h-heeseung!…” you cry out, entirely overstimulated from being stuffed to the brim as his relentless cock stretches your walls further and further.
“c’mon baby, give me one. wanna fill this pussy up with my cum so fucking bad… wanna hear you whine in my ear while i fuck a baby into you…”
his sinful words were the final tipping point for you. “h-hee... no, too much!” you let out a panicked mewl before a full-body orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. your back arched off the bed, violent tremors wracking your body as you clung onto heeseung for dear life. as your fluttering cunt eagerly sucked him in, he was unraveling all of his praises in your ear as he finally, finally came undone alongside you.
“oh fuck… good girl—fuck, i’m cumming...” letting out a strained moan, he quickly threaded his fingers through yours and held your hand as though he would never let go. his sloppy movements stuttered as he pushed into you with a final, primal thrust and painted your pulsing walls with his thick seed. the delicious groan that graced your ears nearly sent you to another dimension as you felt the entire weight of him collapse on top of you as he plugged every last drop into your pretty little cunt.
“f-fuck… baby….” he mumbled weakly into your neck, body still trembling from pure ecstasy.
genre: greek mythology au, fantasy au, demigods au, smau/fake texts, college au, drama, fluff, romance, angst, humor
warnings: stated in each chapter
⤷ ゛synopsis: when yn wakes up at the hidden academy of olympus with no memory of who she is, many believe her to be the daughter of aphrodite due to her outstanding beauty that has more than just the other students vying for her attention, but when it's revealed who her true godly parent is her relationship with poseidon's son, jake, gets complicated.
status: coming january 20th 2026
taglist: O P E N - leave a comment or send an ask to be added - pls check your perms before requesting to be added
minors blank and ageless blogs will be IGNORED (0/100)
schedule: tuesday, thursday, saturday 5pm pst
meet the demigods ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧
── ۪ ݁ more under the cut .. . ⸝⸝ ! ⌢ ࣪
chapters:
1. welcome to the academy
2. navigating the mess hall
3. this is a school after all - partially written
4. the girl from nowhere
5. by your side
more to come...
hoonieyun notes: introduciiiiing my next smau !!! with the completion of the girl is mine as per usual i'm going to introduce my next smau c: this is a greek mythology demigods smau with none other than loml jakeyyy i hope you all look forward to it c:
your estranged grandmother left you exactly one thing in her will: a sprawling luxury apartment in the heart of seoul — the kind of place that could singlehandedly cover your entire college tuition if you ever decided to sell it. now you had a penthouse all to yourself, a pink-tiled kitchen you weirdly adored, and a hopeless, slow-burning crush on the absurdly attractive neighbor who barely looked your way.
✧ WARNINGS AND TAGS
soulmates!au ◦ vampire!au ◦ mentions of sex ◦ dark themes such as depression, melancholy, killing ◦ landlord!sunghoon x fem!reader ◦ vampire!sunghoon x collegestudent!reader ◦ vampire!enhypen ◦ gore, mentions of violence and blood ◦ graphic description of violence ◦ in this au, humans and vampires coexist and vampires are almost extinguished ◦ heavy angst ◦ family drama ◦ mommy issues ◦ reader's dad has cancer ◦ eventual smut ◦ description of blood ◦ HAPPY ENDING ◦ too much angst ◦ pls be mindful of what you're consuming for your mental health.
+173,OOO main masterlist STATUS ━━━━━ FINISHED
۶ৎ 𝓜 , this is my first ever long fic on enhablr i hope y'all don't mind teehee. live laugh love vamp!hoon >< i just love writing this series so much! this story contain way too much angst, pls read the warnings first for a safe reading! i'll hold your hand to say: this has a happy ending, trust me. this will eventually have smut, so mdni. layout credits to kiwiatoll, banner credits to hoonstrology and divider credits to @uzmacchiato. i love you guys sm thank u for being awesome and talented <3
read on ao3 spotify playlist apple music playlist tsj discussions thread reader's feedback
THE SEONGHYEON JAEGA ━━━━━ MASTERLIST
PROLOGUE ONE ━━━━━ pink tiles ✧ published in jun 1st, 2O25.
꒰ 5.8k ꒱ you didn’t expect the winter garden, or the hydrangeas blooming out of season. and you definitely didn’t expect sunghoon — quiet, unreadable, and watching you like he already knew how this would end.
PROLOGUE TWO ━━━━━ the seonghyeon jaega ✧ published in jun 6th, 2O25.
꒰ 10.9k ꒱ between printer boys, rooftop gardens, and the neighbor who looks at you like he’s trying not to set the world on fire, this is what happens when loneliness meets curiosity and accidentally kicks off something bigger than you’re ready for.
CHAPTER ONE ━━━━━ hydrangeas & homicide ✧ published in jun 11th, 2O25.
꒰ 11.2k ꒱ park sunghoon has survived centuries by staying detached — until a new neighbor moves in and quietly unravels everything. caught between instinct and control, he senses a bond he thought was myth, as something human begins to feel dangerously inevitable.
CHAPTER TWO ━━━━━ six-hundred-and-thirty-three ✧ published in jun 20th, 2O25.
꒰ 16k ꒱ your body thrums with a strange, residual ache — not pain, but presence. like something has settled beneath your skin, quiet and irreversible. you don't have the words for it yet, but whatever passed between you and sunghoon in that moment wasn’t just physical. it’s something older, deeper, and it’s already taken root.
CHAPTER THREE ━━━━━ eletromagnetic emo ghost ✧ published in jun 30th, 2O25.
꒰ 21.6k ꒱ all day, he feels you — in the air, under his skin, in every pulse that isn't his own. he watches you stumble through the day, dazed and aching, and hates that he caused it. but more than that, he hates how badly he wants more.
CHAPTER FOUR ━━━━━ grocery shopping & movie nights ✧ published in jul 9th, 2O25.
꒰ 18.2k ꒱ you want answers, but you also don’t want to ask. when you finally see him again, your body reacts before your mind can. and when he speaks — low, careful, restrained — it only confirms what you’ve been afraid to admit.
CHAPTER FIVE ━━━━━ resist the urge to bite (or kiss) ✧ published in jul 9th, 2O25.
꒰ 17k ꒱ he invites you in, not just into his apartment, but into the weight of what he is. and you accept, even if you don’t fully understand it yet. because despite everything, you’re not afraid of him — and maybe that’s the scariest part.
CHAPTER SIX ━━━━━ hanil women university ✧ published in jul 19th, 2O25.
꒰ 18.2k ꒱ the tension between you builds — sharp, close, and unbearably restrained. and when you finally ask if he regrets it, sunghoon doesn’t answer with words. he just looks at you — and it’s enough to know the truth.
CHAPTER SEVEN ━━━━━ necklines & near-death experiences ✧ published in aug 5th, 2O25.
꒰ 24.3k ꒱ sunghoon is shaken. and now that the bond is forming between you two, it’s not just instinct — it’s blood memory. he’s caught in something ancient and irreversible. and for the first time, you’re not the one in danger — he is.
CHAPTER EIGHT ━━━━━ orange blood ✧ published in august 25th, 2O25.
꒰ 29.9k ꒱ you never knew. and now everything — your instincts, your reactions, the way your body answers sunghoon before you can think — starts to make sense. it’s not legacy. it’s inheritance by accident. buried. hidden. and now, waking up.
EPILOGUE ━━━━━ bad desire (unleash) ✧ out soon.
it’s not soft. it’s inevitable. after nights of denial and tension so thick it ached, this moment snaps like a pulled thread. it’s teeth, breath, hands, and truth.
pairing: lee heeseung x reader x park sunghoon
genre: love triangle, smau, fluff, romance
warnings: stated in each chapter
synopsis: yn goes to the club to get over her ex, intending to get drunk and find a guy to help her forget, only to meet two boys who are dressed too similar for her to realize they aren't the same person.
alternatively: at the end of "black coffee or cream & sugar" heeseung and sunghoon go to the club with their friends, they both end up meeting a girl who they've deemed as "the love of their life" but heeseung & sunghoon don't realize the love of their lives is the same girl.
status: begins august 25th, 2025
taglist: open! please check your perms before requesting to be added
minors, blank, and ageless blogs will be ignored
schedule: new chapter every mon, wed, fri at 3pm pst!
characters ⭑.ᐟ
surprise!!! this smau takes place in the same universe as "black coffee or cream & sugar" after the events of the very last chapter of that series :3 you guys loved that smau so much and so did i and i thought what better way to keep up the vibes from that smau than to make a spinoff!!!
⋆˙⟡ — more under the cut !!!
chapters:
1. i miss her already
2. tf is an einspanner???
3. you air balled every shot
4. you don't even have a job
5. swear jar
more to come...
ᝰ.ᐟ you ask your boyfriend to narrate your makeup video and he says yes, but you don’t expect what he leaves in.
ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. gamer bf!niki x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. teasing, you do vlogs/make videos, established relationship, domestic fluff, niki lowkey bullies you
ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1k
(🎧) now playing — cool with you by njz.
masterlist.
NIKI SLIDES ONTO YOUR DESK chair like he lives there. (he kind of does at this point.)
you left hours ago, sending him a link to the footage and a simple message:
“do my voiceover plz haha”
he sent back a thumbs up emoji and a picture of him playing valorant at your setup with a bowl of dry cereal.
but — finally — the video’s up on your editing laptop. you’re centered in the frame, lips already glossy, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder like you didn’t plan that. he rolls his eyes and hits record.
“alright. this is my girlfriend. she’s about to spend thirty minutes proving she doesn’t need makeup by putting on a full face of makeup.” he says, voice flat.
you hold up your primer and flash a peace sign at the camera.
“step one: mystery goop. i think it makes your face sticky. which is apparently good. don’t ask me why.”
you start patting it in with your fingers, totally focused.
“she’s acting like she’s doing heart surgery right now. it’s not that deep, bro.”
a moment.
“okay, maybe it is. her skin looks good. whatever.”
next up is foundation. you dot it on with practiced precision.
“here comes the skin colored lotion. as if her face isn’t already smooth.”
you blend quickly with your sponge, mouth moving like you’re talking to yourself off camera.
“she’s definitely complaining about something right now. probably the sponge. or the time. she’s never on time.”
concealer comes next. you do a triangle under the eyes, and a tiny bit to the chin.
“she does this everytime like she doesn’t sleep whenever she can. like it doesn’t make sense.”
you lift a brow at the mirror. he mirrors the look automatically, smirking.
“she makes that face every time. like she’s surprised it’s turning out cute. babe. it always turns out cute.”
you do your brows now. you go in with small, controlled strokes and niki hums under his breath.
“this part? she zones out completely. i could be talking to her and tell her i crashed the car and she’ll make faces then respond ten seconds later.”
then eyeshadow. you hesitate. consider. then go for the neutral and pink shades.
he nods like he predicted it.
“she does this every time. pretends she’s gonna experiment with brighterer colors and then picks the same color she always uses. at this point it’s muscle memory.”
eyeliner next. you draw a clean wing with one hand, barely blinking.
“i can’t look. i always think she’ll poke her eye.”
you pick up your lash curler and glance at the camera like you already know he’s going to say something.
“yep. the torture device.”
you clamp it, curling your eyelashes upward.
“why are you not even scared? like you’re not squeezing metal near your eyeball right now. couldn’t be me. actually, literally wouldn’t be me.”
you curl the other side with the same calmness.
“she does this in the car sometimes. i don’t know how she does it while moving. and i just have to sit there and pretend i’m not witnessing some shit out of final destination.”
you reach for your mascara next, open it and apply it to your lashes.
“this is the lash grower. like it’s literally magic.”
you pause mid swipe, mouth open, brows slightly raised like you’re trying not to mess up.
“this is the mascara face. you know the one. mouth open, eyes wide, like a fish.”
you finish one eye, then the other, blinking carefully toward the ceiling.
“honestly? she ate that. i’ve never seen someone do this without stabbing their own eye. i flinch just watching it.”
then blush. you apply it to your cheeks and the tip of your nose.
“she’s obsessed with this part. but i like watching it. it makes her look pretty and soft. and the way she uses like, nothing, and it still spreads out—“ he catches himself, laughing under his breath.
“yeah. i like this part.”
you smile at something off camera now. probably at yourself. or maybe at the joke you were thinking of when you were filming. whatever it was, it makes his heart squeeze.
“she smiles like that and i forget what i was talking about.” he says quietly.
highlighter next. it’s just enough to catch the light and you tilt your face toward the window.
“there it is. that little head tilt. she does that every time too. look at her trying not to smile. she knows she looks good. i hope she trips on her way out. just kidding. i’ll catch her.”
you’re reaching for your lip liner now, dragging it gently along the edge of your lips with precision.
niki squints.
“okay, now we’re doing… outlining. this part’s lowkey a scam. she lines her lips just to fill them in again. but i’m not allowed to question it.”
you lean in a little, still focused, overlining the top lip slightly.
“look at her. just casually redrawing her face like it’s a coloring book. i said something about it once and she was like ‘it’s called enhancing.’ okay then. my bad bae.”
you cap the liner and grab your lipstick next, a nudey pink, your go to. you tap it on lightly, almost like a stain.
“this one’s always in her purse. i don’t even know what shade it is but i like it.”
finally: lip gloss. his real enemy. you swipe it on, press your lips together, and pout a little.
niki sighs dramatically. “this part ruins my life. i go in for a kiss and she’s like, ‘nooo you’ll mess it up.’ like girl. you just spent thirty minutes turning into the human version of an angel and i don’t even get one kiss?”
you pose and he continues to talk.
“then when i finally get to kiss her i become one of those sticky mouse traps. but it’s okay. i secretly like it.” he admits.
you laugh at yourself then reach to cover the camera and the screen cuts.
he leans back in your chair, hoodie sleeves half pushed up, hand hovering over the stop button.
the room’s quiet again. the file’s done. he could stop recording.
but he doesn’t.
not right away.
he exhales, taps the desk once with his knuckle, then mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s still talking into the mic.
“she’s so pretty it actually pisses me off.”
he pauses.
then speaks softer. more to himself than anything.
SYNOPSIS ⦂ You’ve always been the girl everyone knows: sharp-witted, magnetic, the kind of pretty that makes people turn their heads. By day, you’re just another college student with a popular face and a spotless reputation. By night, you’re something far less innocent, an anonymous camgirl, raking in tips from strangers who only know your voice, your body, and the way you make them feel. It was never personal, until it was. When Sunghoon — Heeseung’s nerdy, painfully shy roommate. You’ve barely spoken beyond polite small talk, he’s the kind of guy who still blushes when someone brushes past him. Or at least… you thought so. Until one late night, you hear something you shouldn’t: your own voice spilling from behind Sunghoon’s bedroom door. He doesn’t know you’re still in the apartment. He doesn’t know you can hear him or that you’re about to walk in and catch him in the act. And he definitely doesn’t know the girl on his screen, the camgirl he’s been tipping more than anyone else: is you. So naturally you agree to teach him: it's not like it's rocket science or anything.
PAIRINGS: nerdy!sunghoon x cam girl!reader, kinda heeseung x reader
WARNINGS: smut mdni, fwb w/ heeseung, college parties, oral (m. rec), ass eating, tit!job, subby & dom sunghoon, dom!reader, piv, virginity loss, corruption kink, choking, spanking, use of sex toys, so many smut scenes like i really go all out, pervert sunghoon a bit?, 1 sex scene with heeseung, freaky roleplay sex (professor/student), mutual masturbation, masturbation in general, filming during sex/sexual acts, heeseung is an asshole, angst, etc.
WORD COUNT: 33K
RAIN'S MIC IS ON ࿐ this is a little bit different then what i usually write but lately i've been working on my smut and feel finally more comfortable with writing more smut based fics. i'm so excited for this one and i hope you guys enjoy it!! there is def a need for more subby sunghoon on enhablr so i hope i can help provide (:
Saturday nights are supposed to be loud, dorm parties spilling into the hallways, someone blasting music three floors down, laughter leaking through thin walls. Yours, however, is a bubble of silence. The kind that hums in your ears, that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound, the faint whir of your laptop’s fan, the occasional creak in the pipes, the slow tick of the clock above your desk.
You’ve been hunched here for hours, neck stiff, highlighter caps scattered like casualties across your notes. Your eyes ache from the constant flicker of the screen, from lines of text that blur together if you stare too long. You stretch, spine arching until it pops, and let your head tip back to stare at the ceiling. It’s late, past midnight, though the night outside feels older somehow, the air outside your window still and heavy. You should be tired. Instead, you’re restless, your skin prickling with an energy that has nothing to do with stress or caffeine. It’s a quiet ache that’s been prowling at the edges of your focus all night, creeping in whenever you pause too long between flashcards. Sexual frustration. Need.
You try to ignore it, tapping the end of your pen against the desk, but your gaze drifts, to your phone, sitting just within reach. Your fingers close around it before you can talk yourself out of it, and muscle memory takes over. One swipe, two taps, and you’re staring at the name you always reach for when you feel like this. When you need a quick orgasm to get you through the night and into the next day.
You -
You free?
You hit send before you can second-guess it, thumb lingering on the glass for a moment like you might will the response into appearing faster. In the meantime, you push away from the desk, the chair squealing faintly on the floor. Your body feels coiled, impatient, and you catch yourself glancing toward the bathroom door. The impulse blooms too fast to smother. You snag your phone and pad across the room, pushing the bathroom door open with your hip. The overhead light floods the small space in soft gold, bouncing off the mirror, warming your bare skin where your pajama shorts leave your thighs exposed.
You pause in front of the sink, catching your own reflection, hair messy from hours of studying, lips parted like your body already knows what it’s about to ask for. Slowly, you hook your thumbs into the hem of your oversized t-shirt and lift it over your head, the fabric skimming up your skin before you drop it to the floor.
The cool air hits you, making your nipples pebble instantly, and you glance at yourself again, tilting your chin, angling your body. The phone feels heavier in your hand as you swipe open the camera. You’ve done this before, you know how to play with shadows, how to let the curve of your waist or the arch of your back do half the talking. The first photo is teasing, just the slope of your collarbone and the swell of your breasts. The second is less subtle, fingers trailing down your stomach, thumb hooked dangerously low. The last is the filthiest, a bold, brazen shot that makes heat flare in your cheeks even though you’ve taken dozens like it before.
You send the best of the batch, screen going black for a beat as you lower your arm. By the time you’re sliding your underwear down your thighs, the phone buzzes.
Heeseung -
God, you’re killing me.
Another buzz follows instantly.
I really, really, really wish I could come over right now.
You lean against the counter, already smiling to yourself, thumbs moving fast.
You -
Then do it.
The typing dots flicker, disappear, flicker again.
Heeseung -
I can’t. The guys are over — movie night.
Your smile falters. Of course, this was just your luck.
You -
Lame excuse. Don’t you want to cum tonight? ;)
Heeseung -
Fuck. of course i would. I’d much rather be with you tonight.
You groan, head tipping back against the mirror, hair catching slightly against the glass. Still hot, still bothered and very much in need of some attention.
You -
Then ditch them.
You watch the dots appear, vanish. And then, instead of words, your phone lights up with a photo, dim lighting, familiar grey sweats tugged just low enough to make your breath catch. The outline beneath the fabric is thick and shameless, and you know he sent it just to make you squirm. The caption is a single winking emoji. God damnit, he sent a dick pic, a fucking dick pic when you’re feeling like this? And he can’t even bother to help you.
Heeseung -
Have fun flying solo tonight.
A hot rush floods you, equal parts frustration and want. You toss the phone onto the counter, the image still seared into your vision. The quiet of your dorm suddenly feels too loud, your pulse loudest of all. You don’t want to be flying solo tonight. You want him, his weight pinning you down, his hands framing your hips, the low sound he makes when you pull at his hair. Instead, you’re left in this restless sprawl of heat, skin too hot and breath uneven. You push away from the counter, padding barefoot back into your room.
The bed welcomes you with its cool sheets, but it’s no comfort. You flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the ache out of your body. You fail spectacularly. The stillness of your room doesn’t last long. You’re sprawled there on your back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your own frustration pressing down on you, when the thought strikes, if you’re going to take the edge off, you might as well make it worth your while. The idea blooms in your chest like a spark catching, that low, familiar thrill warming you from the inside out.
You slide out of bed, padding over to your dresser. The top drawer is a mess of lace and silk, a curated little collection of gifts and indulgences, each one carrying a memory or a name in the back of your mind. Your fingers trail over them until you land on the one you’ve been saving, a delicate pink lingerie set, almost sheer, with tiny satin bows where the straps meet the cups. One of your most loyal subscribers had sent it to you weeks ago, along with a note you’d read too many times to admit. The mirror catches you as you slip it on, the way the soft pink pops against your skin, the way the fabric hugs your curves just enough to make you smirk at your own reflection. You tug the straps into place, smooth your hands down your sides, and feel that quiet confidence settle over you like armor.
Your toys are tucked away neatly in a box beneath your bed, the kind of organization that only comes from needing to grab them quickly. You set them on the nightstand, your favorites, familiar in your hands, before pulling your tripod closer. The camera’s red standby light blinks up at you as you adjust the angle, making sure it cuts off at your collarbones. No face, no name, nothing to give away the girl behind the show. Just soft lighting, lingerie, and a body they’ve been paying to worship. You perch at the edge of your bed, the camera focused on you, and hit Go Live.
The chat box starts slow, a few greetings from usernames you know by heart, a handful of new ones testing the waters. You lower your voice into that honeyed register you’ve perfected, the one that makes people lean closer to their screens. "Hey, boys… and girls," you purr, letting the words slide out lazily. "You’re late tonight. I was starting without you." Comments flood in, requests and compliments scrolling too fast to read them all. You let your hand trail down your thigh, just a ghost of a touch, and hum softly. You’re in no rush. The teasing is part of the game, light pressure, nothing more, letting anticipation build while the viewer count ticks upward.
Then it comes, the sound that always makes your pulse jump. ParkShoon has tipped $100.
Your most loyal subscriber. Always early, always generous. And always making requests that push just enough without stepping over your lines. You smile without meaning to, leaning closer to the mic. "Mmm… thank you, Shoon," you murmur, your tone thick with suggestion. "What should I do for you tonight?"
The chat pauses for a beat, like everyone’s waiting for him. Then his reply appears.
ParkShoon: Turn it on. You know which one. Your gaze flicks to the toy on the nightstand, your favorite. Sleek, familiar, the one that never fails you. You pick it up, letting the camera catch just enough of the motion without revealing too much.
"You always know what you want, don’t you?" you tease, thumb hovering over the button. The vibration hums to life in your hand, and you draw in a slow breath, the sound slipping out just for them.
ParkShoon: More pressure.
You bite your lip, shifting so the camera catches the curve of your thigh, the slow press of the toy exactly where he’s asked for it. The hum deepens in the quiet of your room, mingling with the low, involuntary sounds you let slip. The comments explode, some begging for the same, others just sending strings of dollar signs and heart emojis. "Just for you, Shoon," you whisper, applying more pressure, your back arching slightly as you obey. The heat is immediate, coiling low in your stomach, and you let your head tip back, eyes fluttering shut.
The requests come faster now, not just from him, but from everyone, and you ride the line carefully, keeping the pace slow but the tension thick. Every move is deliberate, every sound calculated to keep them wanting, keep them tipping. Shoon’s next message makes your pulse stutter. ParkShoon: Don’t stop. I want to hear you lose it.
You glance at the camera, your lips curling in a slow, knowing smile, the kind that promises you just might. Your fingers curl around the toy, the vibration buzzing through your palm, steady and insistent. You settle back on the bed, letting your knees fall open, the camera catching the angle you’ve set up a hundred times before, your legs, your hips, the delicate lace of the lingerie clinging to damp skin. "Mmm…" You draw the sound out, low and velvety, dragging the toy over the lace, teasing yourself as much as them. "Shoon, you always make me start too fast… you’re so impatient tonight."
The chat lights up, don’t make him wait, give us more, fuck, you’re gorgeous. You laugh softly, a breathy little sound, and angle the toy lower, pressing it more firmly against yourself. The lace muffles the sensation at first, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. ParkShoon: Lose the panties.
"Just like that? No please?" you murmur, voice dripping with mock scolding. You hook your thumbs into the waistband, tugging them slowly down your thighs, letting the camera catch every inch of bare skin. The air is cool where the fabric was, and it makes you shiver. You toss them aside with a flick of your wrist. "Better?" The tip notification pings again; another $150.
"Mmm… that’s what I thought." You touch yourself lightly at first, the toy tracing lazy circles that make your hips twitch. Your free hand slips down to part yourself, opening up for the camera as your breath turns uneven. You keep your voice low, like you’re whispering secrets meant only for the ones watching. "God, you don’t even know what you do to me, Shoon…" you breathe, pressing the toy harder now, the vibrations sending jolts up your spine. "If you were here right now, I’d let you touch me… maybe even taste me. But since you’re not—" your words break on a gasp as you push the toy against your clit, "—you’re just going to have to watch."
The comments scroll so fast you can barely see them, a flood of begging, praise, and crude promises. Shoon’s username stays anchored at the top, his tips pushing him there.
ParkShoon: More. I want to see you fall apart. You bite your lip, grinding against the toy, your thighs trembling as you chase the edge without letting yourself fall. The pressure is maddening, every nerve lit up, your pulse pounding in your ears.
"You want me to come for you, Shoon? Right here? In front of all of them?" Your voice has gone breathless, ragged in a way you can’t fake.
ParkShoon: Yes. Now. "Mmm… bossy." You laugh softly, but it’s cut off by another gasp as you push yourself harder, faster, the sound of the toy filling the quiet between your moans. Your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you edge closer.
"God, I wish you could feel this…" you pant, every word a struggle to get out. "The way I’m dripping… how wet you make me…" The tips come in a frenzy now, the sound of them stacking over and over, each one a tiny push toward the point of no return. You’re right there, the tension wound so tight it’s almost painful, And then you gasp his name. "Shoon—"
The chat goes wild, but you’re barely aware of it. The pleasure crashes over you, shaking your body as you ride it out, grinding through the aftershocks, breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. You collapse back onto the bed, toy slipping from your fingers, chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, all you can hear is your own breathing and the faint hum still coming from the toy beside you.
"God… you’re so bad for me," you whisper, your lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile as you glance toward the camera. "But you’re my favorite." The stream’s chat is still exploding, hearts and tips rolling in even as you hover your finger over the End Live button. You sign off with one last soft, "Goodnight, boys…" before the feed cuts to black.
The campus is alive with its usual morning chaos, students rushing past with coffee cups in hand, the air smelling faintly of espresso and wet pavement from last night’s rain. You’ve got your headphones in, head down, mind already half on the lecture you’re walking toward, when a sudden arm snakes around your waist. You jolt hard enough to stumble. "Jesus—" you start, tugging an earbud out, but then you catch the familiar smirk in your peripheral and your irritation fades into something else entirely.
It’s Heeseung, of course. "Relax, princess," he murmurs, his voice low enough that it’s just for you. He’s grinning, that lazy, infuriating grin that’s all sharp edges and charm. His roommate, tall, quiet, and vaguely familiar, is trailing a step behind him. You squint, brain shuffling through names. Sanghan? Sangh… oh, right. Sunghoon.
"You trying to give me a heart attack?" you mutter, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as the three of you fall into step. "Nah." His gaze flicks briefly to the walkway ahead, then back to you, and when he leans in this time, his voice drops even further, warm breath brushing your ear. "Just wanted to tell you… I loved how you looked last night. In those photos."
Your mouth curves before you can stop it, heat flickering in your chest at the memory. "Of course you did." You angle him a sideways look, letting your tone drip with mock arrogance. "I aim to please."
He chuckles, deep and low, eyes glinting like he’s replaying those same images in his head. "You more than please, sweetheart." You glance ahead, catching Sunghoon’s profile for a split second. He’s looking anywhere but at you, shoulders tense, expression unreadable.
"You’re awfully confident for someone who left me high and dry," you murmur, not letting him off the hook entirely.
Heeseung’s grin turns wolfish. "You were fine without me." He pauses, his hand still resting at your waist, thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your shirt. "But… I could make it up to you tonight. My place. Little Netflix, little chill."
You laugh, tilting your head so your hair brushes his arm. "You mean that thing where we put on a movie neither of us watches and I end up riding you on your couch until your neighbors complain?"
"Exactly that thing."
"Tempting."
"Tempting enough to say yes?"
You let the silence stretch just long enough to make him raise an eyebrow. Then you smile, slow, sly, the kind of smile that’s an answer in itself. "Text me the time." Heeseung smirks, satisfied, and drops his hand as the entrance to your building comes into view. Through all of this, Sunghoon hasn’t said a word. He’s kept pace a few steps behind, quiet as a shadow, gaze fixed somewhere near the ground. When you glance back as you reach the doorway, his eyes flick up, just for a heartbeat, before he looks away again. The moment is nothing. And yet, you can’t quite shake it as you step into class.
You spend longer than usual getting ready, maybe because you’ve been thinking about this all day, or maybe because it’s been almost two weeks since you last felt him pressed against you, and that kind of absence can make a girl desperate. The razor glides over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes, leaving your legs impossibly smooth; you linger at the curves of your calves, at the line of your thighs, because you know he’ll notice. In your dresser drawer, you dig past the sensible cotton and lace bralettes to pull out the lingerie you reserve for nights when you want to see that look in his eyes, the one that makes him tilt his head just slightly before his mouth curves in something almost like hunger. It’s black, silky, barely there, the kind of thing that doesn’t stay on for long.
You spritz perfume along your neck and wrists, knowing exactly how it will rise in the heat between you later. The final check in the mirror has you biting back a smirk; yeah, you look good. Dangerous. Like trouble wrapped in soft skin. The walk to his apartment feels longer than usual, your heart beating harder with every step. By the time you knock, you’re already picturing the way his hands will find your waist, the weight of him between your thighs. The door swings open almost instantly, as if he’d been standing there waiting for you, and there he is, Heeseung, tall and lazy-smiled, leaning against the doorframe in a t-shirt that hangs a little too loose, hair slightly messy in the way that makes you want to ruin him more.
“You made it,” he says, voice low, warm.
“You sound surprised,” you reply, stepping past him into the faintly lit space.
“Not surprised,” he murmurs, shutting the door behind you. “Just happy.” The apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the TV from the living room. A bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table, untouched, already forgotten in favor of something far more interesting. The couch is familiar territory; you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve ended up tangled there, breathless and flushed.
You glance toward the closed hallway doors. “You’re here alone?”
Heeseung shakes his head, a little smirk tugging at his lips. “Sunghoon’s here. But don’t worry, told him you were coming over.”
You arch a brow. “And?”
“And,” he drawls, stepping closer until you have to tilt your chin to keep his gaze, “he’s in his room, headphones on, sworn to stay there all night. Not a problem.”
You laugh under your breath, brushing past him toward the couch. “You make it sound like we’re doing something scandalous.”
He grins at that, sharp and knowing before dropping down beside you. “We are.” There’s a pause where neither of you looks at the TV. The screen flickers, casting soft shadows over his face, and you feel his gaze like a touch before his hand even moves.
“You missed me,” he says suddenly, like it’s a fact and not a question.
You turn your head, meeting his eyes. “Cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrects, leaning in just enough that you can smell the faint clean scent of his soap. “And right.” You smirk, letting your fingertips trace the seam of the couch between you. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I was just bored.”
His laugh is quiet, low in his chest, the kind that makes your pulse stutter. “If you were bored, you wouldn’t be wearing that.” His gaze flicks downward for just a moment, enough for heat to coil low in your stomach.
“And what am I wearing?” you tease, feigning innocence.
“Trouble,” he says, his voice dipping deeper. “The kind I can’t stop thinking about.” There’s something dangerous in the way he’s looking at you now, intent, focused, like the rest of the world has slipped out of existence. His fingers brush your thigh lightly, almost experimentally, and you feel the electricity jump between you like it’s been waiting these last two weeks to spark.
“You really plan on watching Netflix?” you ask, tilting your head.
“No,” he admits without hesitation. “I plan on having you right here before the opening credits finish.”
It’s late, the kind of late where the world outside feels like it doesn’t exist, swallowed whole by the quiet hum of a campus asleep. The only light in the room is the dim golden spill from the lamp on the side table, painting warm shadows over Heeseung’s skin. He’s on the couch, legs spread just enough to beckon you closer, head tilted back against the cushion like he’s been waiting all night for you to climb into his lap. You straddle him without hesitation, your knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his hips, your palms braced against his chest. His hands slide up your thighs like he’s mapping familiar territory, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles into your skin as if to remind you exactly who you belong to in this moment.
"Been driving me crazy all night, you know that?" His voice is low, a slow drag of heat that sends a shiver straight through you. "You show up dressed like this, smelling like that—" his grip tightens suddenly, forcing you to feel the twitch of his body beneath you, "—and you expect me to take my time?"
You smirk, leaning in close enough that your lips graze his jaw. "Didn’t think you had any patience left to take your time."
A sharp scoff leaves him, but his hands are already pulling you closer, his control hanging by a thread. "Patience isn’t the problem. It’s restraint. And you’re making it real hard to keep any of it."
When he finally pulls you down to kiss him, it’s with a hunger that steals your breath. His mouth moves against yours with a heat that feels like it’s been building for weeks, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, and every movement screams of the tension from those long fourteen days without him. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly, and the groan he lets out is deep enough to curl in your stomach. His hips lift just enough to grind into you, drawing a gasp from your lips that makes him smirk against your mouth. "That’s it," he murmurs, the command curling in the air between you. "Be loud. Don’t hold back for me."
You don’t need telling twice. Every thrust up into you pulls another sound from your throat, higher, rawer, until you’re clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He leans back slightly just to watch you, eyes dark and locked on every twitch and arch of your body. "Look at you… falling apart on me," he breathes, almost reverent but still tinged with authority. "You missed me, huh?" His hands find your waist, circling up to cup at your breasts.
Your breathless laugh is broken with a moan. "Maybe a little."
He grins, slow and wicked. "Say it."
"I missed you." The words spill out without hesitation, the truth burning through your veins.
"Yeah, you did." His voice is smug, but the way his hands grip your hips tells you he’s just as desperate, dragging you over him harder, faster, until your sounds fill the quiet apartment and you forget there’s even a thin wall between you and Sunghoon’s room. You don’t care, and clearly, neither does Heeseung.
When it finally ends, you’re both wrecked — your chest heaving, his hands still gripping you like he doesn’t want to let go. The room smells like sweat and your perfume, your legs trembling so badly that he has to steady you as you climb off him. You glance at the clock and blink in disbelief.
"It’s almost two in the morning," you murmur, still catching your breath.
Heeseung just smirks, leaning back with a lazy satisfaction. "Guess time flies when you’re getting exactly what you’ve been begging for."
"Begging?" you shoot back, raising an eyebrow.
He stands, helping you to your feet with one firm pull, his hands still lingering at your waist. "Don’t pretend you weren’t." You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks. Heeseung disappears into the bathroom and returns with a warm towel, cleaning you up with surprising gentleness that contrasts the heat from minutes ago. "Stay," he says finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket.
Your body is still humming, every muscle loose and warm, so the offer is tempting. "I’ll crash on the couch," you reply, trying to sound firm even though your voice is soft.
He gives you a look, half amused, half annoyed. "Bed’s more comfortable."
"That wasn’t part of the rules," you remind him, a little too quickly. For a second, he looks like he might argue, but then he just shakes his head with a smirk. "Fine. Couch it is." He tosses you a blanket and a pillow, watching you curl up. "Don’t complain if you wake up with a sore back, princess."
"Goodnight, Heeseung," you say, pulling the blanket over you.
"Goodnight." His voice is low, lingering in the doorway longer than he needs to before finally turning away, and you can’t help but think he’s already plotting ways to make you break those rules next time.
The couch was lumpy. Too short. Too hot. And no matter how many times you flipped your pillow over, it never cooled enough to soothe the restless ache in your body. Heeseung had been right, his bed was probably a cloud compared to this, all plush sheets and deep warmth, but you weren’t about to break the one boundary you’d drawn in permanent ink. Rules were rules, and you weren’t ready to blur that line. Still… God, it was warm. Sweat gathered in the hollow of your neck, the blanket tangled somewhere around your thighs. Eventually, the air felt too thick to breathe. You shoved it all off, swung your legs to the floor, and padded toward the kitchen, your bare feet whispering against the hardwood.
The apartment was quiet, shadow-heavy except for the weak orange glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. You filled a glass at the sink, the hum of the fridge filling the silence, cool water slipping over your tongue. You were halfway through your second gulp when you heard it. Faint at first. A muffled, rhythmic sound, You stood frozen, unable to move. There was no mistaking it, not for you. The breathless moans. The tiny choked gasps between words. That was your voice.
But not the casual, everyday kind. Not the voice you used to say “pass the salt” or “thanks for the ride.” This was the other one, the one dipped in honey and sin, the one you reserved for the camera when the lights were dim, the tip jar was filling fast, and you were pushing your viewers exactly where they wanted to go. And it wasn’t coming from Heeseung’s room. The sound, low but steady, was drifting from down the hall. From his roommate’s door.
Your fingers tightened around the glass, so hard you were afraid it might shatter. Heat rushed to your cheeks, crawling up your neck until your whole face burned. No way. No fucking way. But your body was moving before your brain could stop it. Quiet steps. A slow lean toward the slightly ajar door. You pressed your palm against the wood and nudged it open by the smallest inch. The first thing you saw was the light.
It spilled in a harsh square from his laptop screen, painting Sunghoon’s face in pale blue. He was slouched in his desk chair, knees spread, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to whiten his knuckles, the other — Oh god. He was stroking himself slow and tight, his chest rising and falling in uneven pulls, eyes locked on the video playing in front of him. Your video. You knew it instantly, the lacy set you wore that night, the angle you shot from, the way your lips parted around the mic when you’d whispered something filthy you couldn’t even remember word for word now because your brain was short-circuiting.
then you saw it. The username in the corner of the screen. Bold white letters over black. PARKSHOON. You almost choked. Holy shit. Shoon. The most consistent subscriber you had. The one who tipped every stream, who always sent private messages dripping with praise and filthy little requests. The one who somehow knew exactly how to ask for things in a way that made you want to give them. It had been Sunghoon all along.
His head snapped over his shoulder so fast it startled you, his black hair falling into his eyes as his hand froze mid-stroke. His mouth parted, chest still heaving, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown.
“W–what are you doing here?” he stammered, voice pitching higher than you’d ever heard it. His eyes were huge, frantic behind his glasses, darting between you and the glowing screen as if reality might suddenly glitch and save him from this moment. He looked like a deer caught under a spotlight, except the spotlight was the warm, humiliating glow of his monitor, still playing the sound of your breathless moans. For a second, all you could do was stare. Your brain felt like it was trying to reboot after a system crash. Then, without thinking, without even wanting to stop yourself you said it.
“You’re… parkshoon?” The name slipped out like it had been waiting at the back of your throat for months. His brows knitted together in confusion, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that the veil was gone, that your most closely guarded secret was now sitting in the middle of his cluttered bedroom like a live grenade. The only thing you cared about was that he, the quiet, awkward guy you’d barely spoken to in groups and yet somehow kept running into, the one you’d pegged as harmless, was the same guy who paid you to get off almost every night. And worse, he’d just been caught in the act.
He blinked at you, still unsure if he’d heard you right. “I—what?”
Your lips curled into a half-smirk. “Don’t play dumb. You’re my top subscriber.” The words seemed to detonate inside him. His eyes went wider still, darting back to the monitor, the live playback on the screen confirming every horrible suspicion for him. He spun back toward you like you’d just kicked his chair, muttering in rapid succession, “No, no, no, no, no—” His hands scrambled for the laptop, slamming the lid shut so fast the sound cut off mid-sigh.
“No way,” he breathed, almost to himself. He sounded winded, like the air had been punched out of him. For reasons you couldn’t name, watching him trip over himself like this, flustered, pink-faced, unable to string a sentence together, was adorable. You tilted your head, letting the silence stretch between you just enough to make him squirm, before saying, lightly, “Relax. It’s okay.”
The sly lilt in your voice made his blush deepen, his ears visibly burning under the soft fall of his hair. “O-okay?” he echoed, voice cracking on the last syllable.
“Mhm.” You took a step closer, your smile barely-there but deliberate. “Did you have any idea it was me?”
He shook his head so fast it was almost comical. “N-no! I swear, I didn’t, I mean, you don’t even, uh, show your face so how could I—”
You cut in, voice low. “Did you listen to me and Heeseung earlier?” That stopped him cold. His mouth opened, closed. He looked down, his entire posture shrinking as if the carpet might swallow him whole. He didn’t need to say anything; that tiny dip of his head was enough. A laugh escaped you, soft, amused. “So you did.”
“I—” His voice was barely above a whisper now. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I think it’s cute,” you said simply, and you meant it. The way his breath hitched when you moved closer, the way his hands clenched into nervous fists at his sides, it was all… sweet, in a way. Sweet and a little intoxicating. Your finger traced down the center of his chest, slow and deliberate. His entire body went rigid, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard when you pushed your cleavage together and caught him staring. He swallowed, audibly.
Somehow, through a mix of teasing words and the heat lingering in the room, you found yourself making a different kind of offer. “You know… if you want, I could teach you.”
His eyes snapped up to yours. “Teach me…?”
“How to please a girl,” you clarified, letting the phrase hang in the air. “Since you’re so cute.”
The poor boy looked like you’d just suggested robbing a bank together. “A-are you serious?”
You smiled, slow and deliberate. “Dead serious. I love being charitable.”
His gaze flickered, suspicion creeping in through the haze of fluster. “What’s in it for you?”
You pretended to think about it, then said smoothly, “If you’re comfortable… you could be in a few videos with me.” If his eyes got any wider, they’d fall right out of his head. You explained, still keeping your voice calm, casual, that you’d been getting constant requests for someone to join you, but anonymity was non-negotiable. With him, though, it could work. No face, no identity. Just a body. It took him a moment, but finally, he nodded, still looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or thrilled. And just like that, without meaning to, you’d struck an agreement.
You had been turning the words over in your head for days, softening them, reshaping them, tossing them out entirely only to rebuild them again. Every attempt sounded either too harsh or too cowardly, too blunt or too hesitant. There was no elegant way to do this, no version that didn’t carry the risk of breaking something you couldn’t glue back together. The agreement with Sunghoon had felt like a spark in the dark, a dangerous, thrilling thing but it also came with the knowledge that you’d have to close one door before you could even think about walking through another.
When you and Heeseung had first fallen into your friends-with-benefits arrangement, you’d both agreed on the rules. No sleeping with anyone else without saying so first. No lying about it. No messy overlap. It had seemed simple at the time, almost easy, until now, when you were standing outside his apartment door, staring at the brass numbers like they might rearrange themselves into a reason to leave. You weren’t even going to tell him about Sunghoon. That part of your life, your cam work, the private messages, the quiet, electrified conversations, was a world Heeseung didn’t know existed. Only Sunghoon knew, and you intended to keep it that way. You took a breath you didn’t feel like you got to finish before you knocked. The sound echoed too loud in your own ears, and for a fleeting second you imagined him not being home, imagined yourself walking away, postponing the inevitable for just one more day. But the door opened before you could entertain the thought further, and there he was, smiling. A real, wide grin that made his eyes crinkle just slightly.
“Hey,” he said, voice warm, almost teasing. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.” The unexpected cheer in his tone made your stomach twist. You didn’t have romantic feelings for him, never had, but you’d liked him. More than liked him, even. He was fun, easy to be around when things weren’t complicated, and he knew how to make you feel good in ways that weren’t easily replaced. But all good things ended eventually, and this one… well, this one was about to.
“Hey,” you murmured, trying to keep your own tone light. “I, uh… I need to talk to you about something.”
His grin faded into curiosity, head tilting slightly. “Okay… come in.” You stepped past him into the apartment, the familiar scent of him, clean laundry and something faintly spiced, curling into the air between you. He closed the door behind you, the sound sharper than it should have been, and leaned against the frame, waiting.
“So,” you began, words sticking to the roof of your mouth, “I’m… planning on sleeping with someone else.”
His expression froze. “What?” You shifted, glancing away for a beat. “You remember our agreement,” you reminded him, voice quieter now. “If we’re going to start something like that with someone else, someone we plan on… continuing with, we’d stop this. That’s… where I’m at.”
Heeseung let out a short, humorless laugh, though there was no actual amusement behind it. “Who?”
“It’s none of your business,” you said, more firmly than you expected.
He scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “Right. Whatever. Thanks for the heads-up, I guess.”
“I didn’t want to just disappear,” you replied softly. “I thought… I owed you a proper conversation.”
“Great,” he muttered, pushing off the doorframe. “Conversation’s over. I’m heading out, so—” He gestured vaguely toward the door.
You hesitated, lingering. “Can we still be friends?” That was when he laughed. Not the good kind of laugh, either, the one that felt shared and familiar. This one was sharp, almost cutting, like you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. You knit your brows together. “What’s so funny?”
He looked at you like you’d missed something obvious. “You seriously think I want to be friends with you?”
The words landed heavier than you thought they would. “I—yeah, I did. I thought—”
“Don’t overcomplicate it,” he interrupted flatly. “You were just a way for me to get good pussy. That’s all.”
Something inside you went cold. Your hurt flared into anger before you could stop it. “Go fuck yourself, Heeseung.” He only shrugged, unbothered, and that indifference made it worse somehow. You turned sharply on your heel, storming out and letting his door slam behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked away, your chest tight, your hands trembling with everything you wished you’d said, and everything you never wanted to say to him again.
The apartment felt different tonight. Not in any visible way, your walls were the same warm beige, the faint hum of the fridge still an ambient companion, but in the way your skin prickled with restless electricity. You’d been pacing for the past half hour, a looping circuit from your bedroom to the kitchen, sipping water you didn’t even want, glancing at the clock as though it might move faster under your scrutiny. Heeseung’s words still clung to you, bitter as old smoke, replaying in jagged flashes: You were just a way for me to get good pussy. You’d brushed it off earlier with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to build walls on demand, but now, alone in the dim stillness, the crack in your chest throbbed faintly.
But this wasn’t the time to nurse bruised feelings. Sunghoon was on his way, and this was business, or at least, that’s what you told yourself. It didn’t matter that there was a flicker of something sharp and curious about him, something that made your breath hitch in ways you didn’t care to examine. You’d made an agreement, and tonight was your first session with him. You had to get your head in the game. You started with the shower, the hiss of hot water drowning out every thought. Steam curled around you, carrying the faint scent of your jasmine body wash. You dragged the razor slowly along your legs, each smooth pass another piece of armor you slipped on. By the time you stepped out, your skin was warm, pink, and smelling faintly of flowers. In the mirror, you lingered just a second too long, studying the way water clung to your collarbone before tracing down between your breasts. You told yourself it was about preparation, about looking your best for the camera, and for Sunghoon.
Your lingerie drawer was a riot of colors and textures, but tonight you reached for black lace, the kind that framed more than it covered. The straps slid over your shoulders like whispers, the matching panties hugging you just right. You layered it with a silk robe, crimson and soft, the hem grazing the top of your thighs. The robe’s sash hung loose, easy enough to pull free with one deliberate tug. Then came the tools of your trade. You knelt by the bed, fingers skimming the edge of your toy drawer before curling around the familiar shapes inside. You pulled out a few favorites, sleek, polished, humming with potential. You laid them on the nightstand like instruments waiting for a performance, the anticipation coiling tighter in your belly.
The candle was last. You struck the match, the sharp scent of sulfur giving way to the warm, sweet drift of vanilla as the wick caught flame. Its glow painted the room in molten gold, shadows stretching long and intimate across the walls. You sat back for a moment, just breathing it in, the heat, the scent, the faint tremor of nerves under your skin. And then, the knock.
Three firm raps against the door. Your lips curved before you even realized it, an instinctive smile tugging at the edges of your mouth. Not because you’d forgotten Heeseung’s words, those would linger for a while yet, but because Sunghoon was here, and with him came the promise of something different. Something sharp and deliberate, like a lesson you hadn’t realized you needed to learn. You rose, your silk robe swaying around your thighs as you padded toward the door. Your hand curled around the knob, pulse quickening, not with nerves, but with anticipation. Because whatever else tonight might bring, one thing was certain: the real game was just about to begin.
Sunghoon stands in the hallway like he’s been caught somewhere he doesn’t belong, cheeks tinted pink, hair slightly mussed, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, and when his eyes meet yours, they dart away just as quickly. It’s almost sweet. Almost. “Hi,” you greet, letting your voice drip with warmth, with a faint tease, the kind that makes him swallow hard.
He glances at you, then at the floor. “Hey.”
“Come in,” you murmur, stepping back. His gaze flickers over you for a brief, stolen second, catching on the way the robe clings to your waist before he obediently slips past you. Once inside, he stands near the edge of your living room like a guest in a stranger’s home, not quite sure where to put himself. You notice the way his fingers twitch against his thigh, restless.
“Thirsty?” you ask, walking toward the kitchen.
He hesitates, then nods. “Uh… water would be good.”
You pour him a glass, take your time with it, then return and hand it to him. His fingers brush yours, barely, and even that contact seems to fluster him, the glass trembling faintly as he takes a sip. You let him drink, then settle yourself on the arm of the couch, crossing your legs so your robe parts just enough to keep him distracted. “Before we start,” you begin, watching his Adam’s apple bob, “we need to talk rules.”
“Right,” he says quickly, wiping his palms against his jeans. The nervous habit only makes you smile.
“First thing,” you say slowly, “I’m clean. Tested. I’m also on birth control. Which means when we eventually fuck—” You let the word hang in the air, heavy and deliberate, watching how it makes him blink, how his fingers tighten around the glass. “—you won’t need a condom. Unless, of course, you want one.”
His ears burn pink. He shakes his head quickly. “No, I… I trust you.”
“Good.” You lean back slightly, studying him. “Are you a virgin, Sunghoon?”
He hesitates for just a beat before admitting, “Yeah.”
A slow smile spreads across your face. “Have you ever done anything at all with a girl?”
He shakes his head, almost sheepish. “No.”
“That’s cute,” you say softly, letting the word curl like smoke between you. You watch him shift, as though unsure whether to be embarrassed or pleased. That’s the fun part, you want him right on the edge, unsure if he’s prey or something else entirely. “One more rule,” you say, your tone turning sharper. “You don’t tell anyone about this arrangement. Not your friends. Not your family. And definitely not Heeseung.”
He meets your eyes this time, nodding firmly. “I won’t. I promise.” You study him for a moment longer, then your expression softens, head tilting slightly. A teasing smile curves your mouth.
“Well,” you murmur, your voice low, inviting. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Your fingers slip through his, warm and a little clammy, the faint tremor in his grip betraying nerves he probably thought he’d hidden. “Come on,” you murmur, tugging him gently to his feet. Sunghoon stumbles a little in the process, whether from surprise or from the simple fact that your robe is gaping enough to tease at the curve of your chest, you can’t be sure, and you guide him down the short hallway toward your bedroom. His head is tilted, his eyes darting between the floor and your back, like he’s trying not to look but can’t help stealing glances.
You push the door open and lead him inside. “First lesson,” you announce, letting his hand go so you can turn toward him, “is how to properly please a girl.” Your tone is easy, but it’s deliberate too, like you want the weight of the words to settle over him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. You gesture toward the chair by the wall. “Sit.” He obeys immediately, perching on the edge like a student about to take the most important exam of his life. You don’t sit beside him. Instead, you step back toward your bed, the silky hem of your robe brushing the tops of your thighs as you climb onto the mattress and turn to face him. “Tonight,” you say, settling back on your hands, “you’re just going to watch.”
His brow furrows. “I mean… I do that a lot. When I watch your videos.” His voice is quieter than before, like he’s almost embarrassed to admit it, his ears pink against the dark strands of his hair.
You shake your head slowly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. “Not the same. This time, I’m telling you exactly what to do… and exactly how to do it.”
Something in his expression changes then, a mix of curiosity and tension, his gaze sharpening, his breath evening out into something heavier. You can see the way his knees shift, restless, as if anchoring himself to the seat will keep him from leaning in too far. Your hands find your own body, fingertips tracing a languid path over your stomach, brushing the curve of your hip. “Foreplay,” you begin, your voice deliberate, every syllable pronounced like you want it etched into his mind, “isn’t just something you rush through to get to the good part. It’s what makes the good part… better.” You let your fingers trail lower, just enough for him to notice the subtle shift in your posture, your legs parting slightly as you sink deeper into the mattress.
Sunghoon’s breathing changes again, a sharp inhale he tries to disguise. You glance at him, noting how his glasses are starting to fog along the edges, how his grip tightens against his own thighs like he needs to hold himself still. “You watch for cues,” you continue, your fingertips now brushing the inside of your thigh. “Her breathing changes. Her body shifts toward you. She wants more, but she’s not ready for everything yet. You give her time to get there.” The silky knot at your waist loosens with a casual flick of your fingers, and your robe falls open. You let it slip off your shoulders, the fabric whispering against your skin as it slides to the bed. You watch his reaction closely, his eyes widen, his lips part, and he freezes like he’s afraid even blinking might make him miss something.
“Still with me, Sunghoon?” you ask softly.
He nods a little too fast, his voice catching. “Y-yeah. I’m… I’m watching.”
“Good,” you say, leaning back slightly, your body open under the low lamplight. “Now keep watching.” Your nails trace slow, deliberate paths over the lace stretched across your hips, the sheer panel barely hiding anything from him. You sit back on your knees, giving him an unhurried view, your head tilted just enough to make it look like you’re sizing him up. His knees are spread wider now, not from confidence, but because it feels like his body doesn’t know how to contain itself, like there’s too much heat building in him and it has to go somewhere.
“Eyes on me,” you instruct, and his gaze, which hadn’t dared wander, sharpens further, locked onto the space between your thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing. “Tell me,” you murmur, thumbs hooking under the waistband of your panties, pulling just enough to let the elastic snap back against your skin, “what do you see?”
His voice is low, almost reverent, like the words are fragile in his mouth. “I see… you. In the prettiest lingerie I’ve ever seen. The way it hugs you—” he swallows hard, jaw flexing “—it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Mhm,” you hum, as if considering whether his answer is good enough. “You know what this set is called?” You slowly spread your knees apart, the lace stretching tighter, a faint shimmer catching in the low light. “It’s called Sweet Sin. Thought it was fitting.”
He exhales shakily, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. “Yeah,” he manages, voice rough. “Fits you. Sweet… and sinful.”
You let your fingers drift lower, brushing over the thin lace, pressing just enough to feel yourself under your own touch. His breath hitches immediately, his shoulders squaring like the movement alone punched the air out of him. “Mhm” you say softly, “you start slow. You let her feel herself for you. You don’t grab at her, you don’t rush. You let her take her time.” You press more firmly, rolling your hips slightly into your palm, and his thighs tense so hard you can hear the faint creak of the chair under him. “You’re gonna watch how she reacts,” you continue, your voice slipping into something filthier, each word intentional. “Watch the way her mouth parts when it feels good… the way her hips move like she’s trying to fuck her own hand. See that?”
“Yes,” he breathes, his voice thick and broken. “Fuck— I see it.” You smile lazily, sliding your hand up just enough to hook your thumb into the waistband again. “Next,” you murmur, “you take it off. But slow.” You lift your hips, shimmying the panties down an inch at a time, until they’re caught halfway down your thighs. The air feels cool against your damp skin, but his gaze is scorching, burning a path over you with no mercy.
“Sunghoon,” you say, voice low but sharp enough to slice through his restraint, “tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
His jaw works like he’s trying to chew the words into something safe, but what comes out is raw. “I’m thinking… I’d do anything to touch you right now. Anything. You’re— fuck, you’re so pretty, I don’t even know where I’d start.” You grin slowly, dragging the panties the rest of the way off, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. Now, there’s nothing between his eyes and the wet heat of you, and you spread your knees wider on purpose, propping yourself on one hand so the other can drag lazy circles over your clit. His breathing turns uneven, every inhale sharper than the last, and you can see the way his body is strung so tight it’s almost painful.
“Good,” you purr, dipping two fingers lower, coating them in your own slick before sliding them back up. “Then you’re paying attention. Because this—” you bite your lip as your fingers find just the right pressure “—this is exactly what you do to her first. Just enough to make her want more. But you don’t give it to her yet.”
His eyes are glassy behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. “You’re killing me,” he says, and there’s no humor in it, just pure, unfiltered desperation. You let out a low laugh, still moving your fingers, your hips rolling in slow, obscene little circles. “Not yet, baby. But maybe… if you’re good…”
“Step three…” You smile, slow and wicked. “When you know she’s aching for it, when she’s soaked and shaking and begging, that’s when you take her exactly where she wants to go. Not before. Not after.” Your voice drops into a husky whisper. “And right now, Sunghoon… you’re going to watch me take myself there while you sit there and wish it was you.”
He makes a low, strangled noise, leaning forward like he’s physically fighting the urge to grab you. “Say it,” you tell him. “Say you wish it was you.”
His voice is raw when he answers. “I wish it was me. More than anything.”
You bite your lip, feeling the tension coil inside you until it’s almost unbearable. “Then watch closely. Because when I finally let you touch me, you’re going to do it exactly like this.” You guide yourself through it, every gasp and arch of your spine drawn out so he sees exactly what works, every sound spilling from your lips just for him. The room is heavy with the heat of it, the quiet, desperate way he breathes like he’s in pain, the almost reverent way his eyes stay locked on yours even when your body shakes apart. When it’s over, when your chest is heaving and your limbs are loose, you smile at him with slow, deliberate cruelty. “Lesson over,” you whisper. “For now.”
You sit back on the bed, legs folded beneath you, chest heaving lightly as you smooth a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Sunghoon is still perched in the chair, glasses slightly fogged, eyes wide and unblinking like he’s just been hit by a storm he can’t quite process. There’s something unbearably cute about the way he keeps adjusting them, as if trying to hide himself from the intensity of the moment. “Good job tonight,” you say softly, letting the praise drip out slowly, savoring the way he swallows at your words. “You did exactly what I asked, and I’m proud.”
His hands twitch against his thighs again, and you notice the faint shake in his voice when he responds. “Th-thank you… I—I mean, I tried. I didn’t want to—” He trails off, face flaming red.
“You didn’t want to what?” you ask, tilting your head, playful yet commanding, forcing him to meet your gaze.
He swallows hard, the glasses slipping again as he pushes them back up the bridge of his nose. “I… I didn’t want to mess up. I didn’t want to…” He huffs out a shaky breath, “I don’t know. I just wanted to do it right.”
A soft chuckle escapes you, and it’s almost warm, a little teasing. “And you did. Perfectly. That’s why I like teaching you, Sunghoon. You’re eager. You’re careful. And you pay attention. That’s rare.”
His knees bounce slightly, and he tries to sit up straighter, though his body still feels tense. “I… I like learning from you. I mean… you’re… amazing at this.”
You smirk, letting your fingers trail lightly over your own arm in a subtle, teasing motion, the heat between you still crackling. “Well,” you say, leaning back on your hands and giving him a slow, deliberate look, “tonight was just the first lesson. The next one?” You bite your lip, the corner of your mouth tugging upward with mischief. “It’s going to be ten times more fun. Are you ready for that?”
His eyes widen, pupils dilated, and there’s a short, sharp intake of breath that makes your stomach flutter. “I—I… I’ll be ready,” he stammers, voice shaky but eager.
“Good,” you purr, standing and letting the movement stretch your legs, swaying just enough to make him swallow audibly. “Because I don’t do boring lessons, Sunghoon. And you? You’re in for a ride next time.”
He nods so quickly it’s almost comical, fumbling for words. “I-I won’t mess up. I promise. I’ll… I’ll be ready.”
You grin, letting the teasing linger just a second longer before heading toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that,” you say over your shoulder, voice soft but full of authority, leaving him blinking after you, heat still racing through him, pulse hammering. Sunghoon rises from his seat, following you out into the living room and to the door of your dorm, you open it with a smile comparable to an invitation. Sunghoon's eyes glaze over before he walks out the door. The door closes behind him , the room falling silent except for the faint click, but the tension doesn’t leave. You know it’s only going to build until the next lesson, and somewhere deep down, Sunghoon is already counting down the hours.
The week had been a slow, grinding march toward mental collapse. Exam season never failed to bleed you dry, but this time, it felt like you were clawing your way up a cliff face with no rope. Sunghoon, of course, had been breezing through his own exams like they were puzzles designed for children, he’d probably already aced half of them before you had even cracked your textbooks. And while you were drowning in color-coded notes and half-empty coffee cups, he’d been sending the occasional message. Little check-ins, casual banter, and, when the mood struck, that wicked streak he was still learning to control.
You’d returned the favor once or twice in your own way, snapping a few pictures when the lighting was flattering, when you knew the angle of your body would linger in his mind long after he locked his phone. They weren’t as bold as they could’ve been, you’d been too buried in flashcards and readings, but they were enough. Enough to keep him restless. Enough to remind him what he was working toward. His shy and awkward resolve lessened behind a screen, that much was evident and boy did you enjoy the teasing.
But the truth was, no matter how tempting those exchanges were, you couldn’t afford to lose focus. Unlike him, your classes didn’t come easy. You couldn’t wing it on test day and hope for the best, you needed to study, to put in hours until the information sat in your head like carved stone. But the moment you clicked “submit” on your last exam, a weight lifted from your chest, and for the first time in days, you could breathe. And tonight, you’d promised yourself, you wouldn’t think about school. Not once. Your phone buzzed on the desk where you’d tossed it earlier, screen lighting up with a message from Lara: Outside, finally.
You grinned, snatching it up and firing off a quick On my way! before shoving it into your bag. Your outfit was already picked, something that made you feel like the main character of the night, with just enough edge to turn heads. The second you stepped into the hallway, the stale dorm air seemed to fade, replaced by the faint hum of excitement that came with knowing a party waited at the end of the drive.
When you pushed open the building’s front door, the crisp night air hit your cheeks, and there was Lara’s beat-up little sedan idling under the streetlight, the bass of some playlist thumping faintly from inside. She leaned out the window, hair curled perfectly, grinning at you like she’d just spotted trouble in the making. “Took you long enough,” she teased as you jogged up, her eyes darting over your outfit approvingly. “But damn; worth the wait.” She takes off fast down the road like her pedal couldn't wait to get to where you needed to go, and you were right there with it.
The party hums like a living thing, the bass thrumming through the floorboards before you’ve even stepped inside. The air smells like cheap beer, perfume, and the faint tang of weed clinging to someone’s clothes. The moment you and Lara push through the door, heat wraps around you, voices weaving into an endless tide of laughter and chatter. Your friends spot you almost instantly, a small, familiar cluster across the living room. Yunah waves wildly from the couch, Jay raises his red solo cup in greeting, and Jake calls your name over the music. And then you see him Heeseung.
He’s leaned casually against the wall like he has nowhere to be and nothing to prove, one hand tucked into the pocket of his black jeans, the other wrapped loosely around a drink. His dark eyes flick briefly in your direction and then, nothing. No nod, no smirk, not even the ghost of recognition. Just a glance that slides off you like you’re a stranger at his party. You match his energy, your chin tipping up as you turn away without a greeting.
You barely make it three steps toward the couch before Daniela, Yunah, and Lara swoop in like vultures, herding you into a quiet corner near the hallway. “Okay, spill,” Daniela demands, eyes narrowing like she’s seconds from shaking the truth out of you. “Why are you and Heeseung acting like you’ve never met? You were attached at the—” She stops herself, lips curling into a knowing grin. “You know.”
You shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your pulse ticks just a little faster at the subject. “We stopped our… arrangement,” you say, voice pitched casually over the music. “And he got pissy about it.”
“What do you mean pissy?” Yunah asks, leaning in like this is the best gossip she’s heard all month.
You roll your eyes. “I told him I didn’t want to do it anymore. He didn’t take it well. Said I was just good pussy to him or whatever” You air-quote the words like they’re ridiculous. “It was purely sex between us. That’s all.”
Lara snorts. “He’s such an asshole.”
Daniela, however, tilts her head, the way she always does when she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear. “Or,” she says slowly, “he likes you.” You laugh, loud and sharp, because it’s easier than letting the comment land. “Please. The only thing Heeseung likes is getting off. End of story.” She doesn’t argue, but the way her mouth presses into a tight, thoughtful line tells you she’s not buying it for a second. By the time you rejoin the group, the music’s shifted into a heavier beat, bodies swaying in the open space where the furniture’s been pushed aside. Jake is telling some over-the-top story to Jay, his hands flying animatedly, but your focus snags on the figure draped against Heeseung’s side. Sakura.
Her manicured fingers rest possessively on his forearm, her head tipped toward him like she’s whispering something meant only for him. He doesn’t notice you watching, or maybe he does and doesn’t care, but the sight barely stirs anything in you. You don’t care. You don’t. If anything, it’s just confirmation. Whatever you and Heeseung had was physical, transactional, and fully in the past. Still, your stomach twists when Sakura glances your way and her mouth curls into something that isn’t quite a smile. The conversation flows easily enough when you slip back into the circle, laughter and jokes bouncing between your friends, but every few minutes, without fail, Sakura chimes in with some little barb aimed directly at you. Not loud enough to cause a scene, but sharp enough to catch.
“Wow, interesting outfit choice,” she murmurs after one of your jokes, her gaze sweeping over you with deliberate slowness.
When you tell a funny story from class, she hums under her breath, “Guess they’ll let anyone enroll these days.” It’s the third or fourth comment that makes you finally turn to her, your patience frayed thin. “Okay,” you say, your voice sweet but edged with steel, “do you want to tell me what your problem is, or are you just going to keep yapping like a chihuahua in the corner?”
The circle goes still, like someone’s hit pause on the party. Sakura’s eyes flash. “My problem,” she says, stepping closer, “is you. You think you’re so much better than everyone, strutting around—”
You cut her off with a slow smile, the kind you know will only piss her off more. “Sweetheart, the only one strutting around here is you. And for the record? You should focus on keeping your man’s attention instead of trying to get mine.” A couple of your friends bite back laughs, but Jay actually snorts into his drink.
Her cheeks flush an ugly shade of red. “You’re pathetic.”
“And you’re boring,” you fire back, your voice syrupy. “Which is worse, really.” It’s the kind of line that leaves her blinking for a split second before she spins on her heel and storms off, muttering something under her breath.
Heeseung’s jaw is tight, his eyes sharp as they find yours. “What the hell was that?” he demands, stepping toward you.
You raise your brows, unbothered. “Just returning the energy she gave me.”
“That’s not—” He cuts himself off when Jay steps in, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“She started it, man,” Jay says simply.
Yunah chimes in, “Yeah, keep your dog on a leash if you don’t want her biting people.” The comment earns a chorus of laughter from the group, everyone except Heeseung, who mutters something under his breath and stalks after Sakura, disappearing into the crowd.
The laughter and chatter around you feel muffled now, fading into background noise like someone turned the volume down on the entire party. After your exchange with Sakura, whatever spark of fun you’d been riding when you first arrived is gone, smothered by irritation and that lingering, restless heat in your chest. The bass-heavy music thumps through the walls, shaking your drink just enough to send the ice clinking against the glass, but you barely register it. Every time someone brushes past, every time another shrill laugh cuts through the air, it just grates on you more. You glance at your friends, Lara deep in conversation with Yunah, Jay making exaggerated gestures at Jake over something ridiculous, and you know that if you stayed, you’d just spend the rest of the night standing here, sipping the same drink, staring into space, and replaying that spat over and over in your head. No thanks. You’ve got better ways to burn off this mood.
You nurse the last of your drink and drift toward the hallway, away from the crowd, your phone already in your hand. There’s only one person you can think of right now, one person who might, awkwardly, sweetly, make this mood melt away. Your thumb hovers over Sunghoon’s contact for a beat before you press call. It rings longer than usual before he answers, his voice soft and almost uncertain, like he wasn’t sure you meant to call him. “Hello? …Uh, hey.”
You can hear the faint rustle of movement on his end, like he’s sitting up straighter, adjusting his glasses, clearing his throat. “You—uh—you’re at that party, right?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning against the wall. “But I’m… not really feeling it anymore.”
“Oh.” He hesitates. “Uh… sorry, that sucks. Did something happen?” You smile faintly at how genuine he sounds, worried first, rather than curious. “Just not in the mood to be here. I was thinking maybe… it’s time for another lesson.”
There’s a pause. And then another. You almost think the call’s dropped until you hear him swallow. “A… lesson?” His voice cracks slightly on the word, like he’s afraid to assume you mean that kind. “You mean, like right now?”
“Mm-hm.” You keep your tone soft but steady, letting the suggestion hang there.
“Oh. Uh. Wow.” He laughs nervously, and you can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but forward. “I-I mean… I guess I could… um… yeah. Yeah, I could come by.” His words stumble over each other, and it’s almost endearing how hard he’s trying not to sound too eager.
“You guess?” you tease, and the hitch in his breath is so audible you have to bite back a laugh.
“I mean—yes. Yes, I’ll come by,” he rushes to correct, his voice quiet but determined. “If… if you want me to.”
“I do,” you say, smiling now, your voice dipping just enough for him to hear it. “It’s not too late, right?”
“N-no. Not for you. I was just… uh… studying, so… I can be there soon. Like… maybe twenty minutes?”
“Perfect. I’ll be waiting.” When you hang up, you can almost imagine him sitting there, staring at his phone with wide eyes, already running through a dozen awkward what-if scenarios in his head. The thought makes something warm curl low in your stomach.
When you get home, the quiet hits you like a cool wave after the overheated chaos of the party. You kick your shoes off in the hallway, letting the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant city sounds settle into the background. Your phone buzzes in your hand, a message from Sunghoon saying he’s about ten minutes away.
Just reading it sends a spark through you. Ten minutes isn’t much. Ten minutes is barely enough time to breathe, let alone get ready, but the rush of it makes your pulse quicken. You toss your phone onto the bed and start moving with purpose. You open your dresser, fingers skimming over fabric until you find it, the lingerie set you’ve been saving, one that makes you feel like every soft, dangerous thing all at once. The color is rich against your skin, the straps framing you perfectly. You slip it on, adjusting the cups, smoothing the edges, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You almost laugh, yeah, this will do.
You fluff your hair, fingers working through the strands to give it that effortless, just-messed look, and swipe on a touch of lip gloss for good measure. There’s no time for overthinking. By the time you’re putting your brush down, a knock sounds at your door, three quick, tentative taps, like he’s not sure if he should even be here. Your stomach flips. You swing the door open, and there he is, Sunghoon, in a hoodie that’s slightly too big for him, the sleeves pushed up awkwardly to his forearms. His hair is a little mussed, glasses slightly askew, and the second his eyes find you, his mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. “Hi—” he starts, but you barely let him get the syllable out before you’re catching his wrist and tugging him inside.
“Come on,” you say, the words paired with a giggle that makes his ears turn pink almost instantly.
He stumbles a little at the sudden pull, mumbling something like, “W-wait—” but you’re already leading him straight to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. The moment he steps inside, you push him gently onto the bed, and he lands on his back with a startled oof, wide eyes blinking up at you like he can’t believe any of this is actually happening.
You crawl onto the bed, straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His gasp is audible, sharp in the quiet, and you feel the twitch in his leg as he shifts nervously beneath you. “This,” you murmur, leaning forward just enough that your hair falls over your shoulder, “is lesson number two.”
He swallows hard, eyes darting between your face and anywhere else, the ceiling, the wall, the hem of your lingerie like he’s afraid to stare too long. “Really?” His voice is small, careful, like he’s testing the words.
“Mhm.” You let your hands rest lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat through his hoodie. “And this time… you get to participate.”
The flush in his cheeks deepens instantly. “P-participate? Like—uh—like… actually…?” He trails off, the end of his sentence dissolving into nervous laughter, his fingers curling into the blanket beneath him. “Yes, Sunghoon. Actually.” You tilt your head, smiling. “You’ve been a good student so far. Think you can handle it?”
He bites his lip, the motion quick and nervous. “I—uh… I don’t… I mean, I’ll try, I just—” He pushes his glasses up, the movement clumsy, and you can see the way his hands tremble slightly. “You’re just… you look… wow.” You laugh softly, leaning down until your face is close to his. “Wow, huh?”
He nods quickly, eyes wide. “Yeah. Like… really… wow.” His voice cracks on the last word, and you can’t help but grin. “Good.” Your hands slide slowly down his chest, stopping just above his stomach. “Because you’re about to get some very hands-on practice.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes locking on yours for a brief, unguarded second before darting away again. “O-okay,” he says quietly, the sound almost lost in the small space between you. “I… want to learn.” And God, the way he says it, so earnest, so unsure, like the idea of touching you is both thrilling and terrifying, makes you want to tease him even more.
His fingers are still resting on your hips when you push them higher, pressing his palms against your waist until his thumbs graze the underside of your breasts. You watch the realization bloom across his face, the way his mouth parts slightly, the way his pupils dilate. “Go on,” you coax, arching into his touch.
He hesitates, throat working. “C-Can I…?”
“Sunghoon,” you murmur, leaning down so your nose brushes his. “I told you. You don’t need to ask. Not with me.” Something shifts in him at that, like a string pulled taut finally snapping. His hands slide upward, cupping your tits through the lace, and the strangled sound that leaves him is pure, unfiltered want.
“That’s it,” you praise, rocking your hips against him. “Feel me. Learn me.”
He swallows hard, thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks beneath the fabric. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect.”
“Foreplay,” you say in a low, deliberate tone, “isn’t just touching for the sake of touching. It’s about anticipation. About making every nerve in my body ache for you. You have to make me crave you.”
His breath hitches as you guide one of his hands down, over your ribs, your stomach, until his fingertips catch on the thin band of lace at your hip. His gaze flicks up to yours again, that instinct to ask still alive in his eyes. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Just do it.” And for once, he does. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, just barely, enough to make you shiver. He’s tentative at first, tracing the curve of your hip bone, but then he grows bolder, his hand moving to cup the heat between your thighs over the lace.
“God—” you exhale sharply, and he freezes, eyes wide.
“Was that—okay?” You smirk, curling your hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer. “More than okay. Don’t second-guess yourself. If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you. Until then… keep going.”
He nods, jaw tight, and you can feel the tremor in his hand as he presses more firmly, rubbing slow, experimental circles that already make your breath hitch. His other hand remains on your chest, squeezing gently, his touch clumsy but eager, and you can feel him getting harder beneath you with every movement. “See?” you murmur, voice thick with heat. “Foreplay is twofold — you get me worked up, and it works you up, too.”
“I’m—” He cuts himself off with a shaky groan as you grind down on him, the friction making his head fall back against the pillows. “Shit, I’m not gonna last if you keep—”
“That’s part of the lesson, too,” you interrupt, grinning wickedly. “Control. You tease until they can’t take it, but you don’t let them break. Not yet.”
You take his wrist, guiding his fingers under the lace now, against bare skin. His exhale is almost a whimper. “Holy—” He bites his lip so hard you’re almost worried it’ll bleed. “Touch me,” you order softly. “Really touch me.” And when he finally does, tentative strokes turning into something firmer, hungrier, you can tell the shy, hesitant Sunghoon from a few minutes ago is already starting to fade, replaced by someone who’s beginning to understand the power of making you melt under his hands.
You can feel the tremor in his hands as you shift back just enough to delicately pull your straps down. His gaze tracks the movement instantly, like he’s afraid to miss a single second “You—” His voice cracks, the flush in his cheeks deepening. “You’re really—”
“Mm-hm,” you hum, slow and deliberate as you pull the fabric all the way down, unhooking the clasp and letting it drop somewhere off the bed. His eyes go glassy, lips parted like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.
He moves like he’s in a trance, both hands sliding up your sides until his thumbs graze the undercurve of your breasts again. This time, there’s no faltering, he cups you fully, kneading with an uncertain rhythm but more pressure than before, learning what makes your breath catch. “Better,” you murmur against his mouth, letting your tongue just barely trace his lower lip before pulling away again.
You trail your hands down his chest until you reach the hem of his hoodie, then slip beneath it, fingers splaying over firm muscle hidden under soft skin. He makes a sound, half groan, half whimper, when you push the hoodie up, and you catch the way his arms lift obediently so you can strip it off him completely. The sight of him, pale skin, lean lines, a slight curve of muscle down his abdomen has you biting your lip. He’s beautiful in a way that’s almost unfair, all awkward tension and raw need. “You’re staring,” he says, but it’s not an accusation.
“Yeah,” you reply simply, palms sliding over his bare shoulders. “I am.” You press your body fully to his now, the heat between you near unbearable. The way his breath stutters when you grind down just slightly makes you smirk.
“Lesson two,” you murmur, letting your nails lightly drag down his sides, “is that foreplay isn’t just with your hands. Your whole body can tease.” You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head tips back, throat working as if he’s swallowing down a sound. You take advantage, leaning in to press your lips to the line of his jaw, then his throat, letting your teeth scrape lightly before soothing the spot with your tongue.
“F-fuck—” The curse leaves him like he didn’t mean to, his hands tightening on your waist.
“You like that?” you ask, low, almost taunting.
He nods quickly, almost desperately. “Yeah. Please don’t stop.”
“Good,” you breathe, kissing down to his collarbone. “Because we’re not even halfway through the lesson yet.” You guide one of his hands back to the warmth between your thighs again, urging him under the lace once again, this time pressing his fingers exactly where you want them. The groan that tears out of him when he feels you, hot, wet, aching is so raw it makes you shiver. “Keep going,” you whisper against his ear. “Match my rhythm.”
When you start to grind into his hand, he tries to follow, still clumsy but catching on fast, his breathing turning ragged as he realizes what he’s doing to you. You can feel the hard press of him beneath you, insistent, almost painful, and you know he’s close to losing it. “That’s it,” you praise, voice low and dripping heat. “Learn me. Make me beg for you.”
His breath is jagged now, his lips parted as if he can’t pull in enough air. You can feel his pulse hammering through the hand you’ve guided between your thighs, each brush of his fingers making your own chest tighten.
“God—” he mutters, the word shaky, almost reverent. “You feel…” He trails off, like the rest is too filthy for him to even voice.
“Say it,” you coax, biting softly at the edge of his jaw. “No censoring. I told you; foreplay isn’t shy.”
“You feel so fucking good,” he blurts, and the sound of it, the curse wrapped in that breathless tone, shoots straight through you.
“That’s better,” you murmur, and in reward, you press your hips harder into his hand, grinding slow enough to make him squirm beneath you. He tries to match the pace, still finding his rhythm, still rough around the edges, but each mistake is delicious, another chance to guide him with a moan or the press of your hand over his. When you pull back just enough to look at him, he’s flushed all the way down his neck, hair sticking to his forehead, lips wet and swollen from your earlier kisses. It makes you want to ruin him completely.
You lean forward, catching his mouth again, but this time you deepen it instantly, no slow build, no teasing edge. You kiss him like you own him, tongue sliding against his until he groans into you, his free hand digging into your waist as though to keep you from pulling away. His hands move up, bolder now, dragging from your hips to your ribs before cupping your breasts again. He squeezes, thumbs brushing over your nipples,and the shiver that runs through you makes him groan, like he’s just discovered a cheat code.
“That’s it,” you breathe, rolling your hips against the hard line of him beneath you. “Use your hands, your mouth… keep me wanting more.” He swallows hard, then leans up to kiss along your collarbone, down to the swell of your chest. The first brush of his lips against your skin is clumsy but when you gasp, genuine and sharp, he does it again, harder this time, teeth catching before his tongue soothes over the spot.
Your head tips back. “Good boy.” The praise seems to short-circuit him, his hips buck under you without permission, his hand between your thighs pressing harder. You let him, riding the movement slow enough to keep him just on the edge of losing control.
Every sound that leaves him is more desperate than the last, small curses, half-formed groans, your name like a plea. You’re soaked now, every grind against his palm making your thighs tremble, but you hold the reins, watching him fall apart under you. “You’re learning fast,” you whisper, leaning down until your lips brush his ear. “But we’re not done yet.” He’s still fisting your tits, squeezing and circling your pebbled nipples.
“Good,” you breathe, guiding his head down with a hand in his hair. “Now—use your mouth.”
He obeys without hesitation, closing his lips around one peak and sucking tentatively before letting his tongue flick against it. You gasp, arching into him, and the sound makes him groan against your skin. His other hand works the opposite breast, fingers rolling gently, finding what makes you twitch. “That’s it,” you murmur, one hand clutching his hair tighter, the other still guiding the rhythm of his fingers between your thighs. “Keep me wanting. Keep me—”
A sudden grind of his palm against your clit cuts your sentence into a moan. When you pull back to look at him, his lips are glossy, chin damp from the trail his mouth left over your skin, and his breathing is uneven. You can see him fighting the urge to rut up into you, his hips twitching beneath yours, his erection straining against his jeans.
You rock against him deliberately, the friction enough to make his eyes flutter shut, a curse slipping out low under his breath. “Fuck—” he groans, hands tightening on your hips. “I’m— I don’t know how long—”
You smirk, leaning down until your lips hover over his. “You’re not coming yet,” you tell him, your voice like silk over steel. “Not until I say so.” He whimpers, an actual, desperate sound — and it shoots heat straight through you. His hands roam over you more frantically now, trying to memorize the weight and feel of every inch. “Lesson’s not over,” you tease, shifting just enough that his cock is perfectly lined up against the soaked heat of you, the only thing between you and his skin the thin fabric of your panties and his jeans. You grind down slowly, and his head falls back with a broken groan.
“Feel that?” you whisper in his ear. “That’s what you get when you know exactly how to build someone up.” He nods frantically, but his hands are shaking now, fingers digging into your thighs like he’s barely holding it together.
You kiss him again, filthy, wet, tongues tangling until he’s gasping for breath. Your chest presses to his, bare skin on skin, the heat between you unbearable. Every movement, every little grind, keeps him teetering at the edge but never falling “Please,” he finally whispers, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.
“Mmm, not yet,” you murmur, biting his lower lip before pulling back. “We’re going to stop here… so you can remember exactly how much you want it.” When you slide off his lap, he’s wrecked, flushed, lips swollen, breathing ragged, and his jeans painfully tight. His hands twitch like he doesn’t know whether to pull you back or bury his face in them.
You grin wickedly. “Next lesson,” you promise, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, “we’ll see how long you can last when I really push you.”
A few days after Sunghoon left, you found yourself replaying every second of that night over and over in your mind. His wide eyes, the way his hands trembled at first, and the slow, almost desperate pressure of his fingers as he learned exactly how to touch you, it made you shiver even thinking about it. Every text you’d exchanged since then only heightened it. Each small photo you sent, each teasing comment he replied with, made you pulse with heat and anticipation. He was learning fast, becoming bolder, more confident… yet still adorably nervous, fumbling over words, asking questions in little bursts of “uh… is this okay?” or “should I…?” every time you pushed him to try a new touch.
Exams had finally ended, giving you a little more freedom. You could feel the itch in your mind and your body, the need to take Sunghoon’s next lesson to its inevitable conclusion. There was a thrill in watching him grow more confident with each interaction, knowing that tonight would be the night he finally crossed that line into something he’d never done before. The thought made your pulse race, the fluttering in your stomach a mix of anticipation and wicked excitement. You grinned at your reflection in the mirror, carefully adjusting the curve of your lips into a teasing smirk as your hand brushed over your hair, imagining the look on his face when he saw you again.
By mid-afternoon, you had a plan. The first lesson had gone flawlessly, teaching him to watch, teasing him with every word, every stroke, every subtle movement of your body. The second had taken him to the edge, letting him touch you, guiding him through every touch, every gasp, every shiver. Tonight would be the culmination, and you wanted it to be slow, deliberate, heated, and unforgettable. You pictured the moment you’d open the door to him, his shy, crooked-glasses grin, that flush rising into his neck and ears, the nervous tremor in his hands. It made your own body ache in anticipation. You were already assembling the tools of the night, pulling out the lingerie you knew would drive him wild, selecting the sex toys you wanted him to watch you with, and setting the lights just right so the shadows would flirt with your curves. Even the scent of your favorite candle flickering in the corner seemed to add to the tension in the room, filling the air with a soft, intoxicating aroma that made your pulse race. Every detail was meticulously planned, every inch of the lesson calculated to make him desperate for you.
When your phone buzzed, your stomach flipped. A single text from him: “On my way. Nervous… but excited.” You smiled at the tiny quiver in his words, the perfect mix of need and innocence. You typed back quickly, keeping it teasing: “I hope you’re ready. Tonight, you’re going to learn everything… and I mean everything.” A thrill ran through you, and you leaned back, letting your fingers brush over your skin just slightly, imagining his wide, eager eyes following your every move. You had a feeling that tonight, once the door closed behind him, the shy, nerdy, inexperienced boy who had first walked in trembling would be transformed, if only slightly, into someone bold enough to finally touch you the way you deserved.
And as the clock ticked closer to his arrival, you could feel your body tensing in anticipation, each heartbeat loud in your chest, your mind running through the lessons again. Every touch, every moan, every gasp you’d drawn from him before would culminate tonight, and you were ready to make it unforgettable. The knock at your door was punctual, exactly 7:00 p.m. and when you swung it open, there he was. Sunghoon, looking slightly disheveled, hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times, glasses crooked and cheeks flushed with nervous anticipation. But there was something different in his eyes tonight, a spark that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Excitement. Curiosity. A hunger that mirrored your own.
“Hey,” you greeted him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Not the mischievous, predatory grin of last time, but wholesome, excited, the kind that made him flush even harder. “You made it. How are you feeling?”
For the first time since you’d met him, Sunghoon didn’t stumble over his words. He took a deep breath, straightened his crooked glasses with an almost comical flourish, and said, “I… I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this.” His voice was still soft, still tentative, but there was an underlying confidence now, a quiet thrill that made your chest tighten. You couldn’t help it, you laughed softly, that sound wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “Look at you! You’re growing up so fast, huh?” you teased, reaching forward to boop his nose, making him flinch and sputter a little before he laughed nervously himself.
“Y-you’re… wow,” he muttered, eyes flicking around your room, drinking in the flickering candlelight, the subtle curve of your shoulders, the carefully chosen lingerie peeking out from the silky robe you wore. He swallowed hard, and you could almost see the tension building in him, like he was both terrified and desperate to dive in all at once.You reached for his hand, guiding him gently to the couch. “Sit, silly. Before we dive into the… main event,” you said, your voice lowering to that sultry timbre you knew sent shivers down his spine. “You’ve worked so hard these past two lessons, and before the real fun begins, you deserve a little reward. A warm-up, if you will.”
His eyes widened, a little pink blooming in his cheeks as he complied, sitting down and fidgeting nervously, hands clasped tightly in his lap. His nerves were still there, yes, but his eagerness was tangible now, you could see it in the way he leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on you, barely breathing as if every exhale would make him miss something crucial. You climbed onto the arm of the couch, leaning in close to whisper just loud enough for him to hear, letting the heat of your body brush against him. “Tonight,” you murmured, lips grazing his ear, “we’re going to take everything you’ve learned and turn it up. But first… we’re going to explore a little reward. Just for you. You earned it.”
Sunghoon’s head tilted slightly, lips parting, a small, breathless sound escaping him. “I… I don’t know if I'm confident in what I can do” he admitted, voice low and vulnerable, the slightest tremor betraying how badly he wanted you.
“You don’t have to be,” you whispered, letting your fingers brush along the line of his jaw, down his neck. “All you have to do is watch, listen, and follow. Trust me, I’ll guide you every step of the way.” He nodded, the little tremble of his shoulders giving away the battle between excitement and nerves raging inside him. And as he sat there, utterly captivated, you could feel the anticipation coil tight inside both of you, ready to snap as the night stretched ahead, every second weighted with possibility.
You shift slightly on the couch, letting your robe slide just a bit off your shoulder, revealing the lace of your bra underneath. His eyes nearly pop out of his head, a low gasp escaping him before he quickly ducks his gaze, cheeks flaming. “I—” he stammers, fingers fidgeting in his lap as if he’s not sure whether to look or to kneel right there in awe.
You chuckle softly, reaching out to lift his chin with a gentle finger. “Look at me, Sunghoon. You don’t have to hide. Tonight… tonight this is all for you.”
His lips part, eyes flicking to yours, then down to the lace of your bra again. “Y-you… you look so… beautiful,” he breathes, voice trembling. “I… I want to… I want to touch, but I… I don’t know if I should.”
You tilt your head, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “Shh… you don’t have to ask. Not tonight. Just follow my lead. Your reward… starts now.” You inch closer, letting your hand trail along your thigh, brushing just over the delicate lace of your panties. His breathing hitches, a low groan slipping past him, fingers twitching, longing to follow but obeying your silent rule. You slide your hand under your bra, brushing over your nipple, letting it harden under your fingers as he swallows audibly. His hands twitch, pressing into his thighs as he struggles to contain the heat building in him. “I… I want… I want to…,” he stammers, cheeks red, lips parted.
“Not yet,” you purr, brushing a finger down his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your touch.
He leans forward slightly, eyes locked on your movements as your hand continues to explore, teasing yourself in front of him, letting him drink in every inch. “I want more..”
You smile, tilting your head to look at him, letting your robe slide fully off your shoulders. “Oh, baby… that’s the point. You’ll get more soon, but first… watch me. Learn me. Know exactly what makes me melt, and then, when it’s your turn, you’ll have the knowledge to drive me insane.” His breathing is ragged now, glasses slightly fogged, hands twitching. “Y-you… you’re… I…” He trails off, voice broken with need, cheeks flushed a bright red as he watches you fully, eyes glued to your every movement.
He groans, a little whimper escaping, eyes flicking up to yours with a mix of awe, need, and that adorably shy uncertainty that makes him irresistible. And as you lean back slightly, letting him take it all in.
“Okay…” Your voice was soft, hesitant, and teasing, and it carried through the dorm room in a way that made the air feel heavy, taut, almost electric. You slid off the couch, letting your knees sink into the plush carpet as you settled between his open thighs. The space was intimate, cramped in all the right ways, and every movement, every breath seemed amplified in the stillness around you. Sunghoon’s gaze found you instantly, wide and dark and impossibly alive, pupils dilated as if he could absorb you whole with just a look. His breathing was uneven, shallow, ragged, the heat pooling at the base of his throat and spilling in little hitches every time his gaze flickered downward.
“It’s time I help you out a bit,” you murmured, your voice low, deliberate, and sultry, letting the weight of your words press against him before you even touched him. Your fingers found the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging gently, coaxing, and then you gestured for him to lift his hips just enough. With one fluid motion, you peeled the pants down, letting them fall to the floor in a soft thud. His gasp, sharp and ragged, filled the room, reverberating against the walls.
“O-oh…” His voice cracked, high, soft, almost helpless, and it tugged something deep in your chest. He gripped the couch arms so tightly his knuckles were white, the tension in his body radiating like heat off a flame. You smiled at him then, a smile that was soft and wholesome and innocent in all the ways that made your actions feel deliciously wicked by contrast. Sliding a hand beneath his boxers, you freed him, letting the full weight of him rest in your palm.
He was bigger than you expected. Your breath hitched involuntarily at the feel, the sheer substance of him, warm and taut in your grip. A soft gasp left your lips, and you caught the brief flash of confusion in his eyes, his cheeks blooming pink, a warm flush that made him look almost untouchably vulnerable. His innocence, paired with the raw, undeniable need in his gaze, was intoxicating. The thought that you were the one who drew this out of him made something coil tight in your chest. “Tonight… it’s all about you,” you whispered, dragging your hand slowly along his length, deliberate, teasing, savoring the tremor that shot through him at your touch. He hissed, an involuntary reaction, lifting his hips slightly as if asking for more, only for your free hand to press him back down firmly, insistently.
“Stay still,” you tsked, sharp, yet playful, your voice a velvet whip across the tension building between you. Leaning forward, you let a small drop of spit slip from your lips onto your palm, slick and ready. “Can you do that for me?” His nod was immediate, almost jittery, and it made a soft, amused laugh bubble from your chest. You returned to him, your hand moving with deliberate rhythm, taking in every moan, whimper, and curse. Every sound he made was music, a symphony of need, and you let it thread through you, slow and thick like honey.
For a single, teasing moment, you let go, shifting just enough to slide your bra down and let your breasts spill free, pale skin against the dim light, soft curves framed by delicate lace. His eyes found you instantly, glass fogging slightly as his shallow breaths brushed against them, lips parting in silent hunger. “Do you like them?” you asked, voice low, velvety, coaxing.
“Yes,” he breathed, short, forced, the word heavy with want and need, his eyes dark with desire.
“I’m going to use them to make you cum,” you whispered, deliberately, sultrily. “Then my mouth… and then…” You tilted your lips, letting the word linger, “…my pussy.”
His breath hitched audibly. “I—ok…” The words faltered, trapped in the roughness of his throat, hands still gripping the couch, hips trembling, quivering under your touch.
You leaned in, pressing your breasts around him, holding his gaze, letting your weight shift just enough that every movement drew a sharp gasp from him. His voice was raw and ragged, visceral, the sound vibrating against your chest as you moved with slow, deliberate rhythm. Your moans interlaced with his, soft and teasing, coaxing him higher, urging him to abandon control “You like that, baby?” you murmured, breath warm against his skin, teasing, insistent, rolling the words over him like a promise he couldn’t resist.
“Yes—fuck yes,” he gasped, thighs quivering, hips twitching under the pressure, body tight with need.
“Are you going to cum for me?” you asked, tilting your lips into a slow, knowing smirk. His eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, then snapped open, impossibly bright and desperate, unable to look away from where he disappeared between your breasts. “Y-yes… don’t stop,” he breathed, voice ragged, uneven, unsteady. And you didn’t. You didn’t stop. Not for a second. You moved with rhythm and intent, coaxing, teasing, holding him tight, every motion punctuated with soft, deliberate moans, whispers, and sighs.
And then it came. His release was sudden, hot, unrelenting, shuddering through him, spilling across your chest and face. The sound, the sight, the feel, it wrapped around you both, thick and electric, leaving the air between you taut, humming with aftershocks of heat and intimacy. “That’s it…” you murmured, slowing just enough to let him ride it out, murmuring praise and soft words that tangled with his ragged breaths. “That’s perfect… so good, baby. Just like that.” Even after the tremors subsided, you lingered, hands brushing lightly, teasingly, over his still-quivering thighs, letting the warmth, the smell, the rhythm of his heartbeat, sink in. Every small shudder, every ragged breath left an imprint, and you knew the night had only just begun.
You let him catch his breath, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched against the couch cushions. Slowly, deliberately, you pushed yourself off the floor. “Just watch, okay?” you murmured, a teasing, almost wicked smile curling at your lips. The words hung between you, light and soft, but charged with heat, and he swallowed audibly, wide-eyed, glasses slightly fogging from his quickened breaths.
You began to shed your lingerie, one piece at a time, making the act deliberate and visible. First the bra, letting the lace slip over your shoulders, the soft curves of your breasts revealed gradually, teasing him with every inch. Then your panties, sliding them slowly down your legs so that every movement was on display, a silent promise of what was to come. Each motion was deliberate, an invitation. Sunghoon’s breathing hitched, uneven and ragged, eyes dark and fixed on you, tracking every motion, every shiver of skin and curve of your body. He was caught between awe and need, anticipation and hunger, and you could see it in the way his pupils dilated, the slight tremble in his thighs, the way his hands flexed against the couch.
“I’m going to make you cum with my mouth now, okay?” you whispered, voice low, intimate, thick with desire. His nod was quick, desperate, almost jerky, and he murmured, “Please.” It was a plea, a surrender, and it sent a thrill through you. You fell back to your knees before him, letting your hands trail lightly along his thighs, feeling the heat radiating off him, grounding yourself in the tension of the moment.
“You’re so fucking pretty…” he sighed, fingers finding your jaw, threading through your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His voice carried need and wonder, almost disbelief at having you there, beneath him, for him.
“Yeah…” you murmured, shy and teasing at once. “Is that why you’re my top tipper?” The question drew a flicker of surprise across his expression, quickly replaced by heat, by pride, by something urgent and raw that made your chest tighten.
“You’re expensive,” he said, the words deliberate, surprising you, and yet there was a heat behind them. “But it’s worth it.” Your hands found him again, slicking a single drop of spit over his shaft before your mouth descended, warm and wet, taking him in. A sharp gasp tore from his lips as your mouth wrapped around him, slow at first, teasing, exploring, tasting. You bobbed your head along his length, tracing with your tongue, letting him feel the wet, soft friction of your lips. He shuddered immediately, hips jerking involuntarily, fingers tangling in your hair, desperate to hold you closer, to feel every inch.
You moved with deliberate rhythm, lips gliding, tongue teasing, one hand exploring along the curve of his hips, the sensitive skin just above his thighs, letting every flick, every glide, every small suck send sparks of sensation through him. His breaths grew ragged, gasps spilling over each other, curses and whimpers mingling as he tried, desperately, to find control. And you let him lose it. Slowly, you pushed him higher, deeper, drawing his pleasure out like a master sculptor, savoring the shiver that ran along his spine at each motion. Your lips, tongue, and hand worked in tandem, coaxing, teasing, and urging him toward the edge. Each gasp, each moan, each quiver of his hips was music, a rhythm that you matched, prolonging his anticipation, stretching every second, letting desire coil tighter between you.
“Cum for me, baby,” you whispered finally, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, lips glistening, eyes dark with want. His response was immediate, sharp, ragged, a shuddering, desperate release that left him trembling in your hands and chest, hot and slick, every gasp, every quiver a testament to the pleasure you’d coaxed from him. Even after the tremors subsided, you lingered, hands brushing lightly, teasingly, over his thighs, feeling the subtle shivers that still ran through him. His eyes, hooded and heavy-lidded, met yours with a mix of awe and want, a silent, raw acknowledgment of the intimacy you’d just shared. The warmth lingered between you, heavy and electric, wrapping around the small dorm room like a living thing, leaving the promise of more still hanging in the air.
You leaned back slightly, letting your fingers trail lightly along his abdomen, the curve of his hips, the sensitive places just beneath the surface, watching him struggle to catch his breath, watching the way his body was still pulsing, still hungry. You smiled softly to yourself, teasing him silently, enjoying the tension that crackled between you like static before a storm, knowing the night was far from over, knowing that every gasp, every shiver, every look was just the beginning of what you intended to explore together.
You smiled at him, a warmth behind it that made your chest tighten slightly. It was a genuine, open smile, soft and tender after the whirlwind of pleasure you’d just shared. His breathing was slowly returning to normal, though the subtle hitch in his chest told you just how close he had been to losing himself entirely. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice quiet but sincere. For someone who had never done this before, holding up after two orgasms in barely twenty minutes was impressive, hell, even someone experienced might have faltered. Sunghoon met your gaze and returned your smile, one of those soft, shy smiles that carried a quiet confession: he was enjoying every second of this, and more importantly, he trusted you.
It wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t a lesson, an obligation, or a performance. It was light, natural, and almost playful. The room seemed smaller somehow, closer, the space between you charged with electricity but somehow safe, easy, like there were no expectations other than the mutual pleasure simmering between your bodies. “If your pussy feels even half as good as your mouth and tits did…” he murmured, voice low, thick with want, “I might just die.” The words were so unexpected, so adorably earnest, that laughter spilled from your lips, musical and unrestrained. His confession hung between you like a joke, ridiculous and sweet, and the tension that had been there only moments before dissipated entirely.
“I’ve heard it’s tight,” you teased, tone playful, voice thick with intent, “so… buckle up.”
He flinched, a small groan of mock horror leaving him, but the humor didn’t leave his expression. “Did you just tell me to… buckle up for your pussy?” he laughed, incredulous, yet his eyes betrayed how much he was already imagining it.
“I guess I did,” you admitted, a giggle breaking through, letting the words linger like a dare. It was a game, and you could feel his confidence growing with every shared glance, every tease. You loved the way he leaned into it, shedding nervousness layer by layer, replaced with raw desire and a hunger that made your pulse race.
Rising from your knees, you walked toward him with a confidence he had seen countless times before, but tonight carried a different weight. Tonight, it wasn’t playful foreplay or a teasing experiment. Tonight, you were going all the way. You straddled his lap, bare heat pressing against him, and the sudden contact made your breath hitch, sharp and involuntary.
“I reallyyyy hope it fits,” you murmured, voice mock-innocent, grinding slightly, feeling him shift beneath you. “It’s so fucking big.” The playful teasing vanished from his expression immediately, replaced with that vulnerable, nervous look you knew all too well. “Fuck…” he whispered, words almost lost in the tightness of his throat, “don’t say that.”
“Why not?” you teased again, rocking against him, just enough to make him gasp. His eyes flickered downward as the tip of him brushed your clit, and a sharp, wet gasp tore from your lips.
“Fucking… you’re going to make me cum like this,” he hissed, teeth gritted, voice thick with need.
“Don’t worry,” you whispered back, hips lifting slightly to align him perfectly with your entrance. Then, without warning, you sank down sharply, taking him fully, hot and hard, every inch of him filling you in a way that made your knees wobble and your stomach tighten. A broken moan left his lips, and your own gasp followed, sharp, trembling, filled with heat. “You can cum inside me instead.”
“So fucking full,” you breathed, rocking back slowly, giving him time to adjust to the sensation of being inside you for the first time. Every nerve ending sang with awareness, the friction, the stretch, the delicious weight of him pressing against your walls. You reached for his hand and guided it to rest on your lower stomach, letting him feel the hard outline of his cock inside you, pulsing and insistent. “You’re right there.”
“Holy fuck,” he muttered, glasses fogged, chest heaving, voice ragged. You laughed softly, hands lifting to pluck them from his face, dropping them onto your own nose as a playful joke. The sight of you in his glasses made him flush deeper, adding a new layer of intimacy to the moment.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned, words strained, almost lost in his desperate breaths.
“Yeah? You like it when I wear your glasses, baby?” you teased, rocking slightly, hands finding his shoulders as you lifted and then slammed back down, setting a rhythm that was slow, deliberate, punishingly sensual.
“Oh my god…” His voice cracked, fingers brushing clumsily against your clit, sending sparks of heat straight through you. “Oh my fucking—”
You lifted yourself again and fell back down, establishing a rhythm, slow and sensual at first, skin slapping against skin, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies filling the room. Your moans intertwined with his groans, building in crescendo, thick and heavy, and your body began to tremble in time with him. “Beg me,” you whimpered, leaning forward, gripping his hips, grinding down harder, pressing him further into your wet heat. “Beg me to let you cum.”
“Please…” His voice was desperate, raw, almost ragged. Fingers digging into your hips as he tried to anchor himself, “Please… let me cum. Please, please, please.”
“Are you a good boy?” you murmured, breathless, voice low and coaxing. “Do you deserve it, Sunghoon?”
“I deserve it,” he chanted, urgency layering his words. “Fuck, baby… please… I deserve it.”
“Okay…” you whispered, voice soft, teasing, commanding. “You can cum.” The words were a spark. His cock throbbed violently inside you, pulsing against your walls as he let go, shuddering and gasping, hot, wet, trembling, and leaving streaks of heat deep inside you. The sensation pushed you to the edge in response, high-pitched, shaking moans escaping as your thighs quivered and your vision blurred.
You didn’t move immediately afterward, letting your bodies rest together, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath your chest, the warmth of him pressed against you. The room was quiet, except for ragged breaths and faint sighs, the lingering heat of your joined desire almost tangible. Every shiver, every small twitch of his body against yours, every soft moan left an imprint, and you felt a deep, lingering connection in that shared, electric aftermath. You let yourself linger there a moment longer, the memory of every gasp, every whimper, every broken moan wrapping around you both like a private, intimate thread.
The next day you’d been pacing your tiny dorm room all afternoon, your head buzzing not from caffeine, but from the memory of last night, the weight of Sunghoon’s hands clutching at you like he might float away without the anchor of your body, the desperate, breathless sounds you’d coaxed from him, the almost startled wonder in his eyes when it was over. Every time you thought about it, about him, a warmth coiled low in your stomach, and you caught yourself smiling at nothing. It wasn’t just the intimacy, it was the way he’d trusted you, the way he’d looked at you like you were the first person who had ever really seen him. And tonight was supposed to be round two. A little different. More deliberate. A performance. Your subscribers had been getting restless, and you were ready to give them exactly what they wanted, with Sunghoon as your star. The idea of filming with him lit up a wicked spark in you. He’d gotten more confident, more willing to play along with the little teases you sent through text. This time, you wanted to push him, to show him just how much fun he could have.
Your hair was half-done and your outfit laid out when the knock came. You frowned at the clock, half an hour early. Sunghoon was punctual, sometimes to a fault, but never early. Still, you padded to the door, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face and grinning, already imagining his shy smile on the other side. You swung the door open mid-greeting. “Hey—”
Your smile fell so fast it was almost painful. “Oh. …What the hell are you doing here?” It wasn’t Sunghoon. It was Heeseung. Standing in your doorway, shifting from foot to foot like he’d run here but was now unsure if he should even be standing on your threshold.
“I—” he started, voice uneven. “I just… I have to tell you something, okay?”
You blinked at him, already feeling your pulse climb for all the wrong reasons. “Heeseung, can this wait? I’m actually—”
“No, I just—” He stepped forward before you could stop him, brushing past you into the room like he’d been given permission. “I have to say this now, or I never will.”
Your patience was fraying. The whole situation was wrong. “What the fuck, Heeseung? You can’t just—”
“I’m in love with you.”The words hit like a glass shattering in your kitchen, abrupt, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
“What?” It was all you could say, your mind momentarily frozen staring at the boy in front of you like he’d had pulled a rug from under your feet, and he did.
He met your gaze, jaw tight, shoulders squared as if bracing himself for the impact. “I’m in love with you. That’s why I blew up at you when you told me you were going to sleep with someone else. I wasn’t mad about that—well, I was, but—” He let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for weeks. “I was jealous.”
Your mouth went dry. You had expected anything but this. “Heeseung…” you started, voice softer now, because despite everything, you did care about him. Just not like that. “I’m sorry. I—”
“We were sleeping together for six months,” he cut in, voice breaking just enough to twist your stomach. “You have to feel something for me.”
You shook your head slowly, feeling the weight of each movement. “It’s not like that. It was never like that for me.” He was pacing now, hands buried in his hair like he could pull the frustration right out of his skull. “Are you in love with someone else?”
“No—” You started, the words barely leaving your lips before he’s speaking again, desperate and urgent. Like he was reaching for your heart, trying to latch onto it and hold on, no matter how much you didn’t want him to.
“Then we can try. We can make it work.” His voice cracked at the edges, a plea hiding under the demand.
“No, Heeseung.” The firmness in your voice surprised even you. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you. I only see you as a friend. Nothing else.” The words landed like stones in the silence that followed. He stopped moving, just… looked at you, really looked, as if searching for some sign that you were lying. But your face didn’t change, and eventually, something in his shoulders seemed to give. He nodded once, slow, defeated. “Okay.” His voice was quieter now. “Okay.” and it hurts you. It hurt you so bad because no matter how much you didn’t feel like that towards him, he was still your friend. He was still someone you had spent so much time with.
You had to remind yourself that this was all a part of the agreement you both had shared, the rules you had set into place for a reason. He was breaking them, not you. “Really—Heeseung…i’m sorry—” the words fell on your tongue because without another word, another whisper or another breath he stepped toward the door, pulling it open. He didn’t slam it. He didn’t look back. He just left.
The door clicked shut, and you stood there for a moment, still staring at it like it might swing back open. Then the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out of you in a shaky sigh. You were alone again, but the thrill of anticipation from earlier had drained completely. The thought of filming tonight, of coaxing Sunghoon in front of the camera, no longer set your pulse racing. Instead, all you could feel was the ghost of tension clinging to your skin like static. You hadn’t even felt yourself move to your bedroom until you sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the faint lines of light crawling in through your blinds. The air felt heavier than it should, clinging to your skin in that way it always does after a conversation you didn’t want to have. Your heart still hadn’t slowed from the collision with Heeseung’s words. You’d meant it when you told him you didn’t feel that way, but the sharpness in his voice, the disbelief in his eyes, lingered like smoke in your lungs. You hated hurting people, even when you knew you’d done the right thing.
You picked up your phone, staring at the black screen for a long moment before unlocking it. Your thumb hovered over Sunghoon’s contact picture, the candid one you’d taken when he wasn’t looking, cheeks flushed pink, hair a little messy, wearing that shy smile that made you melt without meaning to. For a second, you debated not calling. It felt selfish to reach for someone’s light just because yours had dimmed. But then again… Sunghoon had never once made you feel like a burden. The line rang twice before you heard his voice, soft, almost hesitant, like he was afraid he might be interrupting you. “Hello?”
“Hey,” you murmured, and despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips just from hearing him. “I’m… sorry, Sunghoon.”
He immediately sounded concerned. “Sorry? For what?”
“I have to cancel tonight,” you said, your voice gentler than you expected it to be. “I’m just… not feeling the best.” There wasn’t a pause of irritation, no hint of disappointment. Just warmth. “That’s okay. Really. Don’t worry about it.”
Something in your chest loosened at how easy he made it. “Thank you.”
“Is… everything okay?” His tone shifted, still soft, but now carrying that subtle undercurrent of worry you’d learned to recognize in him.
You exhaled slowly, twisting the edge of your blanket between your fingers. “No. Not right now. But… I will be. Eventually. There was a quiet hum from his end of the line, like he was thinking hard about what to say. Then, so softly it almost got lost in the static, “Do you… maybe want to have a movie night instead? Just as friends. No pressure.”
The suggestion startled you — in the best way. Your mind, which had been crawling with static and leftover tension from earlier, suddenly found something warm to hold onto. “A movie night?” you repeated, and you could hear the faint nervousness in his breath when he answered.
“Yeah. I can bring snacks. We can watch something dumb. No expectations. Just… keep each other company.”
Your smile broke through before you could stop it, and it felt genuine for the first time all day. “That… actually sounds perfect. Yes. Please.” His relief was almost tangible in his laugh, quiet and boyish. “Okay. I’ll be over in twenty. I’m bringing all the snacks I can carry.”
“Twenty?” you teased lightly, trying to ignore the way your chest was feeling lighter already. “What, are you teleporting here?”
“Maybe,” he replied, a shy grin in his voice. “You’ll just have to see.” You hung up with a goofy smile stretching across your face, the kind that felt out of place after the heaviness of earlier, but you weren’t going to question it. Sunghoon had a way of making the air feel easier to breathe, and tonight, that was exactly what you needed.
You’d changed into the comfiest clothes you owned, a pair of worn-in sweats and a soft oversized hoodie that smelled faintly of laundry detergent and your favorite vanilla lotion. The kind of clothes that made you feel safe, shielded from the heaviness of the day. As the popcorn began to pop in the microwave, filling the kitchen with that buttery, salty scent, you felt yourself starting to unwind. By the time there was a gentle knock at the door, you were already smiling without realizing it. You giggled softly to yourself, the sound foreign but welcome in your chest. “It’s open!” you called out, turning toward the counter to grab a bowl for the popcorn.
The door creaked open slowly, almost like he was afraid to intrude. Sunghoon stepped inside with that shy, almost hesitant smile that somehow never failed to soften you. His hair looked slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it on the way over, and his glasses caught the light as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose. In his hands, he held up a slightly crinkled grocery bag like a peace offering. “Uh… I, um… brought the snacks,” he said, his voice gentle, almost tentative, like he wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do but hoped it would make you happy anyway. You practically hopped toward him, unable to help yourself. Your mood, still dampened from earlier, shifted instantly, like the first break in the clouds after a storm. You couldn’t explain why his presence did that to you, and you weren’t about to dig too deep into it tonight. Instead, you just smiled, wide and real. “You’re the best,” you said, looking up at him in a way that made his ears turn faintly pink.
“The popcorn’s in the microwave,” you added, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Go pick a movie, and I’ll be right there.”
“O-okay,” he replied quickly, nodding as though he was accepting some important mission. He shifted the bag to one arm and pushed his glasses up again, an endearing little habit you’d noticed he did when he was trying to avoid staring at you too long. Without another word, he padded into the living room, sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor before his footsteps softened on the rug.
You watched him disappear around the corner before leaning against the counter, the faint hum of the microwave filling the otherwise quiet apartment. Of course, your mind betrayed you, flashing briefly to Heeseung, his smirk, his voice, the mess of emotions he left in his wake. But you shook your head, forcing that thought into the farthest corner of your mind. Not tonight. Tonight wasn’t about the tangled mess of that situation. Tonight was about comfort, and about spending time with Sunghoon in a way that wasn’t wrapped in tension and heat. A night free of the weight of expectation. You let out a breath you’d been holding, turning toward the microwave just as it beeped.
You sank into the couch beside Sunghoon, your knee brushing his as you tucked yourself into the cushions. The movie’s opening credits flickered to life, soft piano notes filling the room, and then the title card appeared in faded, rainy letters. Twilight. Your lips parted in disbelief before a laugh burst out of you, sharp and incredulous. “Twilight? Really?” you teased, turning to catch the faint blush blooming over his cheeks. He didn’t look embarrassed, though, not really. More like a shy defiance, as though he knew exactly what kind of judgment that title would earn and had already braced himself for it. “It’s a classic trashy film,” he countered, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t care how bad it is, I still love it.” His voice cracked slightly toward the end, the smallest quiver in his tone betraying his nerves. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the teasing or because of you.
Reaching over, you stole a handful of popcorn from the bowl balanced between you, tossing a few kernels into your mouth with an exaggerated shrug. “Fine,” you said through a playful chew. “As long as you’re team Edward.” That earned you a full-body cringe and a sheepish, guilty look. He didn’t even have to say it; you knew. You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest in mock horror before twisting so you were on your knees, facing him directly. “No way. No way you’re team Jacob. That doesn’t even exist.”
He squinted at you, half-confused, half-amused. “What do you mean it doesn’t exist? It literally does.”
“It literally doesn’t,” you argued, leaning forward until your hair spilled over your shoulders. “Bella doesn’t even want Jacob. She always wants Edward. So how could there be a team Jacob? It’s not even real. He was never truly an option, only an unrequited love.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and then they hung there, heavy and suddenly sharp. Unrequited love. Your throat tightened. Your thoughts, uninvited and unwelcome, drifted to Heeseung. The memory of his voice from earlier that day, the confession, the raw vulnerability in it, pressed in on you like a bruise.
Sunghoon’s brows drew together, his glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. “You okay?” he asked softly.
You blinked, trying to shake it off, nodding quickly as you sank back into the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
He hesitated, still looking at you like he could see straight through the lie. “Are you sure? I don’t want to pry or anything—”
“How close are you with Heeseung?” you interrupted before you could think better of it.
His answer came after a small pause, like he was weighing how much to share. “We’re… pretty close, I guess. But we’ve got our differences. He’s closer with guys like Jake and Jay.” He pushed his glasses up again, the nervous habit almost comforting in its familiarity.
You exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to the couch cushion between you before you spoke. “Before you got here, Heeseung showed up. Out of nowhere. And… he confessed. Said he was in love with me.” Sunghoon’s expression shifted instantly, first shock, then something quieter. Guilt flickered across his face so quickly you almost missed it. “No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “Don’t do that. Don’t feel guilty. It’s not like that with Heeseung. Not even a little bit. It was… purely physical. Pleasure. That’s all.”
His gaze didn’t waver, though. “But… isn’t that what this is too?” The question stopped you cold. You stared at him, the words tangled somewhere between your ribs and your tongue. You wanted to say no, to insist this was different, that whatever was unfolding between you didn’t fit neatly into that same category. And yet, you couldn’t explain why.
“I—” you faltered. “I don’t know.” He nodded once, slow and deliberate, but didn’t look away. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken truths. So you looked at him, really looked. At the faint smudge on his lenses from where his fingers must have brushed them. At the careful slope of his shoulders, still hunched slightly like he didn’t quite know how to take up space. At the soft flush along his cheekbones, the one that deepened whenever you caught him staring. And he was staring, right at you, unblinking. You realized then that the way you felt with Sunghoon wasn’t the way you felt with Heeseung. This was slower, deeper, something that burned instead of sparking. You couldn’t name it. You didn’t have to.
The space between you dissolved in an instant. You didn’t know who moved first, maybe you both did. All you knew was the sudden, inevitable press of his lips against yours. It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t rushed. It was something else entirely, charged, emotional, threaded with a quiet urgency that said please, don’t look away. You kissed him like you meant it, like the thought of not kissing him had never existed. And he kissed you back the same way, tentative but certain, his fingers tightening just barely against the couch cushion as if he was afraid to touch you too soon. The kiss lingered in the air even after it ended, its ghost still trembling on your lips. Your foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths mingling in the short, tender space between you. Neither of you said a word, there was nothing to say that wouldn’t feel too fragile, too heavy, too real for this moment. You simply stayed like that, suspended in a quiet that felt strangely infinite, eyes locked as if trying to memorize each other without speaking the reason why. His gaze searched yours with something unspoken, soft but intent, like he wanted to see past the noise of your life and right into the marrow of you.
It might have lasted a full minute, maybe two, before Sunghoon broke the silence, not with words, but with a mischievous flicker in his expression. Slowly, his hand lifted from the couch cushion, threading into the bowl of popcorn that had somehow survived the chaos of the last hour. Without breaking eye contact, he plucked a single piece, popped it into his mouth, and gave you the smallest, cheekiest grin. The absurdity of it cracked the tension clean in half. The laugh burst out of you before you could stop it, a loud, ungraceful, unpolished sound that bent you forward slightly. It wasn’t the polite chuckle you gave strangers or the restrained laugh you gave friends; this was the kind of laugh that ripped straight from your chest, the kind that left you breathless and maybe even a little red in the face. Sunghoon’s grin widened instantly, his eyes crinkling as he let his own laugh tumble out, low and warm, syncing with yours until it felt like the two of you were riding the same wave of ridiculous joy.
You leaned back, still grinning, still trying to catch your breath, and he nudged the bowl toward you like it was some kind of offering, his own way of saying stay here with me, just like this. And you did. The night carried on without any fractures, as though that kiss had been folded neatly into the fabric of your friendship and left there to settle. You watched Twilight all the way through, the two of you throwing in sarcastic commentary between handfuls of popcorn, mocking the glittering vampire reveal, groaning over Bella’s questionable choices, and pausing once or twice so Sunghoon could argue his hopelessly wrong Team Jacob stance. When the credits rolled, neither of you moved, the room lit only by the glow of the TV menu.
Without a word, he queued up another movie, something neither of you had seen but both pretended to have opinions on. The warmth of the couch, the lull of the screen’s flicker, and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you blurred the edges of time. At some point, you stopped tracking the movie’s plot. Your body relaxed, shoulder brushing his, and the world outside your little bubble slipped further away. When your eyelids grew heavy, you didn’t fight it. Neither did he. By the time the second film’s credits crawled across the screen, you were both asleep, slouched into the cushions, your head tipped just enough toward him that his sleeve brushed your cheek every time he shifted. The popcorn bowl sat abandoned on the coffee table, the last of it going stale in the still air, and the night settled over the two of you like a secret neither of you was ready to name.
A few days had slipped by since that night, since your lips had brushed his, since Heeseung’s quiet confession had unsettled your heart in ways you hadn’t expected. You’d been left walking around with this strange cocktail of emotions swirling inside you: confused, yes, but also happy. Unreasonably happy, like you’d been let in on a secret no one else could see. Whatever it was between you and Sunghoon, it had shifted. Not in some dramatic, earth-shattering way, but in a subtle, unspoken current. It lingered in the way his eyes found yours more often, in how his voice dipped softer when speaking just to you, in the small smirks that seemed to belong only to you now. And you loved it. God, you loved it.
Which is why today felt like the perfect opportunity to turn the tide just a little further. Filming day. You had been counting down to this one in particular, not for the content itself, but for the surprise you’d prepared for him. He thought it was going to be a normal shoot, business as usual, but oh no… Sunghoon had no idea what he was walking into.
The idea had come to you like a spark in the dark, something wicked and ridiculous and just suggestive enough to make your stomach tighten with anticipation. You’d gone all in. After hours of hunting through racks and endless online scrolling, you had pieced together what could only be described as the sluttiest professor outfit you could find, short enough, tight enough, and just absurd enough to make him blink twice. The skirt barely reached mid-thigh, black and fitted in a way that promised absolutely no safe bending over. A crisp white blouse clung to you, buttons straining ever so slightly where it tucked into the waistband, the neckline open just enough to tease without giving everything away. Around your neck, a slim black tie dangled loosely, and perched on your face were a pair of identical glasses to his own, the final touch that made you grin at your reflection like you’d just pulled off the perfect crime.
And because you were you, the details mattered. Your hair had been brushed into sleek perfection, a swipe of bold lipstick painted on like the finishing stroke of a masterpiece. The heels were tall enough to make your calves tighten with every step. You didn’t just want to look like you’d stepped out of some scandalous roleplay fantasy, you wanted to be it. The confident, no-nonsense professor who had just spent hours “teaching” and was now ready for… extracurriculars.
When Sunghoon arrived, there was no preamble, no lingering at the door. You caught his sleeve in your fingers and tugged him down the hallway like you had something important to show him, and you did. Your bedroom door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you inside with the faint hum of the webcam already set up in the corner. You gestured toward it, explaining in a tone that was casual but deliberate, “It’s only going to be focused on our bodies, nothing else. If it catches a face by accident, I’ll blur it. You know how I do things.” You saw the way he glanced at the camera, then back at you, the understanding in his nod. He’d seen your videos before, you didn’t have to convince him. He trusted you.
“Still need to change,” you said lightly, as if it were nothing. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could say much else, you slipped toward the bathroom, fingers brushing the edge of the desk as you passed, just enough to press the hidden little button on your keyboard. The red recording light blinked to life, unnoticed by him. The thrill of it pulsed in your chest, a spark of mischief curling under your ribs. The bathroom door shut behind you, and you finally let the grin spread across your face. The bag with your chosen outfit waited for you like a delicious secret. You stripped out of your regular clothes and slid into the very, very revealing professor outfit you’d spent hours putting together. You leaned toward the mirror, fluffing your hair until it fell in effortless waves, then reapplied your bright red lipstick, the kind that promised attention and held it hostage. You smoothed your hands over the fabric once more, steadying your breathing.
You eased the door open with deliberate slowness, the hinges protesting with a faint, high-pitched squeak that seemed to slice through the charged silence of the room. The dim light from the hallway spilled across your bed, catching the faint glint of Sunghoon’s glasses. He sat there waiting, hands resting stiffly on his thighs, eyes wide and unblinking. His lips parted as you stepped inside, his gaze tracking every slow, unhurried movement you made toward him. A grin curved your red-tinted mouth, slow and predatory, the kind of smile that promised trouble and dared him to try and stop you. “Mr. Park…” you murmured, letting his name drip from your tongue like honey, each syllable soaked in suggestion. You reached him in two languid steps, your hands finding his shoulders, palms warm against the cotton of his shirt. You squeezed lightly, nails grazing just enough to make him swallow, hard. “You’ve been… very, very bad.”
The words landed like a spark. You could hear the thick gulp he took, could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your touch. His breath came heavier now, rougher, tangled with nerves. “W–What—god—what is this?” he stuttered, voice catching, and the sound made your pulse thrum harder. His uncertainty didn’t weaken him in your eyes, it made him irresistible. This was your game, and you knew exactly how to play it.
“That’s Professor to you.” Your voice sharpened just slightly on the word, and your fingers slid upward to grip his chin, tilting his face toward yours until his gaze locked with your own, eyes alight, sharp with authority and simmering with need. His gaze dipped almost immediately, drawn helplessly to the sliver of skin visible where your white blouse gaped.
“Are you going to be a good boy for me?” you purred, your breath brushing the curve of his ear before your lips found his neck. You placed feather-light kisses there, each one deliberate, leaving faint red prints from your lipstick on his skin like a trail of claimed territory.
“Y–Yes,” he breathed, almost collapsing forward in his eagerness to touch you, his hands seeking the curve of your waist.
“Yes what?” you hissed, catching his wrists mid-reach and pulling them away from your hips with effortless dominance.
“Yes, Professor.” The words came quick, obedient, and you rewarded him with a slow, almost saccharine smile that only sharpened the edge of your control.
“Good boy, Mr. Park.” Your fingers threaded through his hair before sliding down over his chest, feeling the subtle tremor in his body, the heat under his shirt. Then, with a gentle but firm push, you guided him back onto the bed. You followed, crawling toward him with the unhurried grace of a predator, each shift of your weight making the mattress dip. He leaned back onto his palms, eyes locked on you, his pupils blown wide. There was calculation there, a silent measuring of your movements, but it was colored with hunger. The way he squirmed under your approach was intoxicating, each small twitch of his thigh, the restless flex of his fingers, the shallow, uneven breaths that told you he wanted you and no one else.
“I could help you with some extra credit,” you said softly, your hand sliding down between his thighs until your fingers found the firm outline pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants. You traced it, slow, deliberate, watching the way his mouth fell open, the breath leaving him in a short, helpless gasp. “All you have to do… is make me cum.”
You gave his cock a firm squeeze through the fabric, feeling the twitch in response, and his head tipped back against the pillows with a strangled moan. “Can you do that, Mr. Park? Can you make me cum?”
His nod came quick, almost frantic, like a marionette’s head snapping forward on too-tight strings. The desperation in the motion made your pulse quicken. His hands gripped the sheets in tight, white-knuckled fists, chest rising and falling as if he’d run a race. “Then take the reins,” you said, falling back onto the bed, your hair spilling in a dark halo over the pillow. The hem of your skirt rose with the movement, revealing the black crotchless panties you’d chosen just for tonight. His eyes widened instantly, glasses fogging faintly, his lips parting in shock.
“What—”
“It’s your turn,” you interrupted with a knowing smile, curling a finger to beckon him forward. “Use what I taught you. And make me cum. Hard.”
Tentative hands found your hips, his grip firm but shaking slightly. He bunched the fabric of your skirt higher until it gathered at your waist.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, voice shaky with awe. “I could cum just looking at you, Mrs.” The faint whine beneath his words told you he was already teetering. His hands moved up, fingers finding the buttons of your blouse, and with one impatient pull, he tore it open in a single motion. Buttons clattered across the floor, the sound sharp in the still air. You gasped at the suddenness, your bra barely containing the swell of your breasts.
“That was naughty, Mr. Park,” you hissed, reaching for his wrists, only for him to catch your hands mid-air. His grip tightened, strong enough to make your breath catch, before he shoved them above your head and pinned them to the mattress.
“Shut up,” he growled, the sudden grit in his voice pulling your eyes wide. “It’s my turn to teach you. Now lay back… and take what I fucking give you.” A sharp, molten pulse of heat spread through you at the words. Nervous, hesitant Sunghoon had always been delicious, but this Sunghoon, raw and commanding, was devastating.
His hands left your wrists, but you didn’t move them. Instead, you stayed still, arms stretched above you, watching him as he cupped your breasts through your bra, squeezing firmly, exploring. Without pause, he shoved the cups down until your nipples were bared to his hungry eyes. His mouth descended without hesitation, lips closing around one hardened peak as he sucked and nipped with a greedy edge. “Mr. Park… fuck,” you gasped, lifting your hips off the bed, silently begging for more.
“Please touch me,” you whispered, but he only chuckled, a deep, dark sound that rumbled through him and into you.
“Look at you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice curling low and taunting. “Begging like a whore.” One of his hands slid up your neck until his fingers wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch.
You gasped—half from the restraint, half from the heat pooling at your core—and he grinned faintly before dragging his other hand down your body. He cupped you through your panties, his palm hot against your slick heat.
“I’m going to make you cum on my fingers,” he said, each word low and deliberate, “and then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t speak. Understand?”
“Yes,” you panted.
“Yes, what?” His tone sharpened again.
“Yes, Mr.Park,” you breathed.
“Good girl.” His thumb found your clit, circling lazily at first, applying just enough pressure to tease without giving you the satisfaction you craved. You whimpered, hips twitching under his touch. Then his fingers slipped past the slit in your panties, pressing inside, one at first, curling upward, then two, stretching you open, and finally a third, filling you completely.
“Holy shit,” you sobbed, your body arching involuntarily as he scissored his fingers in rapid, relentless strokes.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his whiny tone flashing through for just a second before his focus returned. “Take it, baby.” Your orgasm was building too fast, the coil tightening deep inside you, your hands clutching the sheets above your head. Your legs trembled violently, the room spinning as wave after wave crashed over you. Sunghoon didn’t stop, not when you gasped, not when you whimpered, not even when you twisted beneath him. He kept going until you were thrashing, crying out, reduced to a helpless, dripping mess beneath him.
He pulls his fingers out fast, like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t give you much warning, just a low, ragged groan as his fingers dig into your hips,Looming over you with that intoxicating mix of hunger and hesitation still warring in his expression. His glasses have slipped slightly down his nose, the thin frames catching the warm lamplight as he peers at you from beneath dark lashes. You can hear his breathing, sharp and uneven, almost as loud as the faint pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his hands are on you again, sliding down your sides in one smooth, determined motion. He grips your thighs, and with surprising strength, he flips you over, guiding you forward so your hands brace against the headboard. The air is warm and heavy between you, carrying the scent of him, clean soap, faint cologne, and something muskier, darker, uniquely his. The sudden shift in position leaves you momentarily breathless, your bare skin prickling under the heat of his stare.
“Stay just like that,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low and edged with command, but there’s a tremor there, a shred of disbelief at what he’s doing. You feel the rough drag of his palms over your ass, kneading the flesh almost reverently before one hand trails down the curve of your hip. The other comes up to the small of your back, gently pressing you forward until you arch, your spine bending into a perfect line for him. The bed creaks faintly under your shifting weight. His breath fans over your skin as he leans in, and then his mouth is there, hot, wet, and unrelenting, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the backs of your thighs, up to where your body aches for him most. You swear you can feel the ghost of his glasses brushing your skin, but he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls back just long enough to look at you, to drink in the sight of you spread and waiting for him, before he growls under his breath and pushes forward again.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his hands sliding upward until his thumbs press into the dimples at the base of your spine, holding you exactly where he wants you. “No idea how long I’ve thought about this…” His words curl into your ear like smoke, hot and lingering, making it impossible to keep still. His thumbs spread you open just enough to make you feel completely exposed, the air cool against heated skin. Then his mouth is on you, hot, wet, and devastating, his tongue dragging over you in slow, deliberate strokes that make your knees threaten to give out. The first touch is exploratory, almost careful, as though he’s savoring the taste of you, learning what makes you twitch and gasp. But the second pass is bolder, firmer, the pressure deeper, his tongue flicking against that sensitive spot until your fingers curl hard around the headboard.
You hear the low, guttural noise he makes, half groan, half sigh, like he’s the one losing himself. His glasses slide even further down his nose, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t care if they fall entirely. One of his hands leaves your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers spreading you wider as his mouth works you over, sucking softly, then harder, building an unbearable rhythm. Every few seconds, he pulls back just enough to breathe, to drag his lower lip against you before sealing his mouth over you again. “Fuck…” he breathes, his voice rasping against you, and you realize he’s savoring the sound of your whimpers, memorizing every shudder that runs through you.
Your knees wobble faintly as your body starts to rock back toward him, chasing the friction. His free hand presses harder into the small of your back, holding you steady as his tongue circles, teases, and finally plunges in deep. The slick, obscene sound of him eating you out fills the space, each movement of his mouth sending sparks up your spine. Your thighs tense, trembling as he works you closer and closer, until your breath is coming in uneven gasps, your eyes squeezing shut against the sheer intensity of it. He pulls back for the briefest moment, his lips wet and glistening, his breathing heavy. “You taste…” he starts, but his voice breaks into a low groan, and instead of finishing, he dives back in, hungrier this time, his tongue and lips moving with unrestrained need. The drag of his tongue, the hot pressure, the pace, everything conspires to pull you under until you can barely think, only feel. “This is the best pussy I'll ever have.”
Sunghoon groans low against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his grip tightening around your hips to hold you exactly where he wants you. The mattress dips with the weight of his body as he shifts closer, his tongue sliding down to taste you deeper, then back up in a lazy, torturous path that makes heat coil tighter and tighter in your belly. “Sunghoon—” his name catches in your throat, breaking on a moan when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. It’s sharp, almost overwhelming, and he doesn’t let up, his rhythm steady and precise like he’s memorized every twitch of your body. His hands are firm but not rough, guiding you back into his mouth each time you try to lift your hips away from the intensity.
He hums against you, a sound of approval or maybe need, and the vibration sends your whole body shivering. One hand leaves your hip to slide between your thighs, two fingers sinking into you with an easy, practiced motion. They curl just right, brushing against that spot inside you that makes your breath stutter and your toes curl hard into the sheets. The combination is too much, his mouth working your clit in that perfect, merciless rhythm, his fingers stroking you deep and slow until you can feel the orgasm building so hot and fast it makes your spine arch. Your hands claw helplessly at the bedding, your cheek pressing into the pillow as a desperate sound escapes you. “That’s it,” he murmurs against you, the words low and wrecked. “Let go for me.”
The coil inside you snaps. It rips through you in waves, your thighs trembling, your body clenching around his fingers as he keeps moving through it, drawing every last pulse out of you. Your moans dissolve into ragged breaths, your body going limp against the mattress while he licks you through the aftershocks, slower now, softer, as if easing you down from the high. When he finally pulls back, his lips are slick, his breathing uneven. He presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hands smoothing over you in slow, grounding strokes.
The bed dips under his weight as he shifts higher behind you, the warmth of his body closing in like a storm you can’t outrun. You’re still reeling, every muscle loose and heavy from the way he just pulled you apart, but Sunghoon isn’t giving you time to recover. His hands smooth up your spine slowly, fingers splaying as if he’s mapping every curve, every arch of your body. When he reaches the base of your neck, he wraps one large palm around it, not squeezing, just holding, reminding you he’s there, in control, guiding the tempo of what’s coming next. “F-fuck..” You whine.
“You’re still shaking,” he says, and there’s a trace of a smirk in his tone, like he already knows exactly why. He leans forward until his chest is pressed to your back, his breath brushing hot against the shell of your ear. “Good… means you’re ready for more.” His other hand drags back down the slope of your spine in a lazy stroke, fingers catching in the waistband of nothing, your body bare and exposed to him, before sliding lower to cup you from behind. His thumb grazes over you with maddening slowness, just enough pressure to make your knees threaten to buckle again.
You gasp “Sunghoon! Oh my god.” as you try to push back into him, but his grip on your neck tightens just enough to keep you still. “Patience,” he murmurs, the word a dark, velvety warning. He shifts his hips forward, letting you feel the hard, undeniable press of him against you, just the weight, no movement, until you’re aching and clenching around nothing. He keeps you there, poised on the edge, his lips brushing your jawline, then the sensitive spot just below your ear, kissing you with an infuriating gentleness that’s in sharp contrast to the tension he’s building. He’s acting like a pro and the shock of his dominance still wrings true through your entire body.
He pulls back just far enough that his mouth can trail down your back in slow, deliberate kisses, following the curve of your spine. He doesn’t rush, pausing to nip lightly at your skin, to let his teeth scrape just enough to make you gasp. His hands are restless, one sliding around to palm your breast and roll your nipple between his fingers, the other stroking along the inside of your thigh before retreating, always retreating, like he’s testing how far you’ll chase the contact. When he finally positions himself behind you again, the tip of him brushes along your entrance, slick from his mouth and your release. He doesn’t push in, just slides against you, the head catching on your clit before dragging lower again. He repeats the motion, slow and deliberate, letting the friction make your hips twitch and your breath hitch. “Feel that?” he asks, voice low and rough, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave the promise of bruises. “You’re so wet for me, I could take you in one thrust.”
But he doesn’t. He lingers, torturing you with shallow pushes that never quite go deep enough, pulling out before you can sink back into him. His other hand comes down to your thigh, urging it out wider, opening you up for him completely. The bed creaks with the shift, the scent of sex thick in the air, and still he teases, circling your clit with the head of his cock, letting you feel the heat, the weight, without the satisfaction of fullness. When you let out a frustrated sound, half a whine, half a plea, his low chuckle rumbles against your back. “I’ll give it to you,” he says, leaning forward so his lips graze your ear again. “But you’re going to take all of it. Every. Inch.” And before you can breathe, before you can beg again, he pushes forward, slow, relentless, stretching you until your palms press hard into the sheets and your mouth falls open in a breathless moan.
He doesn’t move at first, just stays buried inside you, deep enough that you can feel every subtle throb, every twitch of him pulsing against your walls. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you still, letting your body adjust while your mind struggles to catch up to the raw fullness of him. Then he leans forward again, his chest pressing flush against your back, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, his voice low and deliciously rough. “That’s all mine.” He punctuates it with the slowest roll of his hips, dragging himself nearly all the way out before pushing back in with deliberate, maddening precision. The bed groans beneath you, each deep thrust forcing you forward into the mattress only for him to pull you back onto him again. He finds a rhythm that’s almost cruel, slow enough to keep you aching, deep enough to make every nerve spark. His fingers slide down your front, seeking out your clit, circling it lazily while he continues to move inside you. The combination is overwhelming, his cock filling you from behind, his touch sharp and relentless at your most sensitive point. You can’t stop the moan that slips out, but he’s quick to hush you with a sharp squeeze to your hip. “Not yet,” he growls, dragging his thumb over you in smaller, tighter circles. “You don’t get to finish until I say.”
He pulls almost entirely out before slamming back in, the force making you gasp and clutch at the sheets. Then he settles into a harsher pace, his thrusts angled to hit that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your breathing uneven. His grip on your hips is firm, fingers digging in like he’s anchoring himself to you, and every time he bottoms out you swear you can feel him in your stomach. “Holy..fuck..sunghoon.” You sob.
“God, you’re gripping me so tight,” he groans, his voice almost breaking with the strain of holding back. “Like you were made to take me like this.” He leans back slightly, giving himself the space to watch where your bodies meet, his pace quickening just enough to make the wet sound of it fill the room. Then his hand is on your lower back, pushing you deeper into the mattress while his other hand keeps working your clit, faster now, more insistent. You feel the heat coil low in your belly, the pressure building until it’s almost unbearable. He knows, he can feel the way you start to tremble beneath him, the way your walls clench tighter with every stroke, and instead of giving you the release you’re chasing, he slows again, hips rolling in deep, grinding circles that keep you on that perfect, torturous edge.
“Beg for it,” he says, his breath hot on your skin, the command making your pulse spike. “Let me hear you say it.” His pace is slow but devastating, every thrust a deliberate push into your core, every touch at your clit measured to keep you gasping, wanting, desperate.
“Please—” The word rips from you before you can stop it, raw and breathless. Your voice catches, breaking as your cheek presses into the mattress. “I can’t—”
“You can.” His tone is low and commanding, threaded with a dark satisfaction. “You’ll take it until I say you can let go.” His thrusts deepen, slow and punishing, dragging along every tender inch of you until you feel like you might shatter from the inside out.
You try again, the plea turning into something close to a sob. “Please, I need it—”
He chuckles against your ear, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Need what, sweetheart? My cock? My fingers? You’re gonna have to be specific if you want me to give you anything.”
Your body arches against him, desperation making you shameless. “I need to come. Please—fuck—please, I’ll do anything.” You feel him twitch inside you at the words, and his thumb presses harder, the circles faster, crueler.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice almost tender despite the ruthless pace of his hand. “Beg for me. Let me hear how much you want it.”
You don’t even hesitate now, the need overwhelming every trace of pride. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you gasp, your voice shaking. “No one—no one’s ever made me feel like this. You’re perfect—please, please, please—” The words tumble out in a rush, your breathing ragged, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of your need.
“Perfect, huh?” His thrusts quicken, finally giving you the rhythm you’ve been aching for, each one hitting that spot inside you with precision. “Say it again.”
“You’re perfect,” you sob, your nails digging into the sheets. “You’re so fucking good—please don’t stop—” And the sound he makes in response, half-growl, half-groan sends heat surging through you like wildfire. You feel him everywhere, in the press of his chest against your back, in the bruising grip on your hips, in the relentless rhythm that’s tearing you apart in the best possible way. Your vision blurs, the edge so close now you can almost taste it, but he still holds you there, hovering in that place between bliss and agony. “You can come,” he finally says, his voice thick and commanding. “Come for me, gorgeous. Let me feel you.”
It crashes over you so suddenly it feels like you’ve been set alight from the inside. Your whole body seizes, back arching hard as a ragged cry rips from your throat, raw and desperate. The pleasure is blinding, white-hot and all-consuming, shattering through you in waves so fierce you can’t tell where one ends and the next begins. He doesn’t stop. If anything, he works you harder, his hips still driving into you in a relentless, unbroken rhythm while his thumb circles your clit with sinful precision. It’s too much, too good you’re already trembling violently, gasping for air, but he pins you in place with a firm hand on your hip, keeping you spread open for him, making you take every last second of it.
“That’s it,” he growls against your ear, his voice rough with something primal. “That’s my girl. Look at you, so fucking beautiful when you come.” His words sink straight into you, molten and dizzying, the praise making your muscles tighten around him again. Your hands fist the sheets so hard your knuckles ache. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, thighs clenching around nothing, but he’s still there, deep inside you, thumb still working, mouth at your shoulder murmuring things you can barely comprehend through the haze. Every nerve feels hypersensitive, electric, your skin prickling with heat and pleasure until you’re sobbing from it, unable to stop the choked moans spilling from your lips.
“You can take it,” he urges, his voice low and coaxing now, almost gentle even as his pace stays unyielding. “Give me another one. I know you’ve got more for me.”
You shake your head weakly, though the truth is your body is already betraying you, winding tight again under his touch. “I can’t—” you whimper, voice breaking.
“Yes, you can.” His teeth scrape lightly along your jaw before he presses a slow, possessive kiss there. “I’ve got you. Just let go for me.” And somehow, impossibly, you do. The second release rips through you even harder than the first, making your vision go spotty, your cry breaking into helpless, breathless sounds as every muscle spasms. He groans low in his chest, hips grinding deep, riding you through it until you collapse forward, limp and trembling, every inch of you wrung out and aching in the sweetest way.
He stills inside you, his hips slowing to nothing, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts. For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your mingled breathing, yours ragged and shallow, his deep and shaky as though he’s just run a marathon. His forehead rests against your shoulder, the heat of him seeping into your skin, and you feel the faint tremor in his arms as he props himself over you. Then, like a tide pulling back from shore, that raw, commanding energy he’d been wielding so easily ebbs away, and what’s left is… him. The real him. The one with the endearingly awkward smile, the one who shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose when he’s thinking, the one who stumbles over his words when you catch him staring too long.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, still breathing hard, his cheeks flushed pink from more than just exertion. “Was… was that okay?” he asks, voice pitched lower than usual, almost hesitant. There’s a faint crease between his brows, like he’s genuinely worried you might say no. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat, not mocking, but soft and warm, laced with disbelief that he could even think such a thing. Your lips curve into a slow, dazed smile, the kind that feels too big for your face, because you’re still trying to catch your breath, still trying to gather all the scattered fragments of your mind after what he just did to you. “Okay?” you echo, shaking your head slightly. “It was… amazing. You were amazing.”
His shoulders sag a little in relief, and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch upward. There’s a flicker of something boyish in his eyes, uncertain, shy, but before you can say anything else, you add, “And… I want to go again” He laughs so genuine and unguarded it makes your chest ache a little. It’s not the low, teasing chuckle from earlier; it’s bright, almost startled, like he can’t believe his luck. “You do?” he says, grinning in a way that makes him look more like the bashful, slightly nerdy guy you know than the man who just made you fall apart minutes ago.
You nod, still smiling, still breathless. His grin widens, his voice dropping into something warmer, teasing now, though there’s a hint of awe in it too. “Then I guess… we can.”
carefully, almost reverently, he shifts his weight and brushes his hands down your sides, guiding you to roll over onto your back. The sheets bunch beneath you as you settle, your chest rising and falling, cheeks still flushed, hair splayed around your face like a halo. His nervousness hasn’t entirely left, but there’s a softness now, a gentle reverence in the way he looks at you. This time, he doesn’t rush. His hands slide over your sides, gripping lightly at your hips as he aligns himself with you, slow and deliberate. Every move is filled with care, slow, deep thrusts that make your chest press against his, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that’s intimate and unhurried, the kind that makes every nerve ending in your body hum. You let your hands drift over his shoulders, tracing the curve of his neck, feeling the strength in him tempered by this newfound gentleness.
His lips press against your neck and collarbone, kissing and nipping softly, murmuring your name with a husky reverence. “God, you feel so good,” he breathes, voice trembling slightly with awe, not just from desire but from the simple, breathtaking reality of you beneath him. The combination of his reverence and intensity sends shivers straight to your core. Each thrust, each brush of his lips, is laced with both need and a careful tenderness. He whispers praise and small encouragements against your skin, your name, how beautiful you are, how perfect it feels to be inside you, each word a heady mix of admiration and raw desire. You forgot entirely that the camera was still rolling, that this was all to benefit each other and nothing else.
His pace stays deliberate, each thrust slow and full, letting you feel every inch of him inside you, a delicious weight that presses you down into the mattress. But it’s not just about the physicality this time, every movement carries intention, intimacy, a sense that he’s memorizing you, learning exactly how your body responds. His hands never leave your hips, holding you gently yet firmly, anchoring himself as he lets his chest press into yours. You can feel the warmth of him, the subtle shifts of his body, the careful way he leans in close so that every brush of lips or breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine.
“God, you’re… so perfect,” he murmurs against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The words are husky, broken, filled with awe, as though he can barely believe he’s here, inside you, touching you this intimately. Your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin as every stroke of him sends ripples of heat through you. He leans forward, lips brushing over the hollow of your collarbone, kissing and sucking in slow, deliberate motions. “You feel so amazing,” he whispers, voice trembling slightly with both need and nervous excitement. “I… I can’t get enough of you.” His hands slide over your sides, cupping your breasts with tender firmness before letting them fall to rest on your ribs, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there, teasing you with every touch.
You moan softly, hips lifting instinctively, chasing the subtle friction he provides. “Sunghoon… oh god… yes,” you breathe, breathless, heart pounding in your chest as the combination of his words and his steady, intimate rhythm has you teetering on the edge. “You… you’re so good… I… I didn’t expect—”
“Shh,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Don’t think. Just feel. Just take it.” His voice is low, tender, and commanding all at once. He slips one hand lower, brushing your clit lightly, teasing in tandem with the deep, patient thrusts that keep you wound tight and trembling. Every movement of his fingers and hips is calculated to pull you higher, to bring you to the edge without letting you fall prematurely.
The first little tremors of release curl through you, your body trembling beneath him, legs shaking as he murmurs your name again and again like a prayer. “So beautiful… look at you… taking me so well,” he coos, voice thick and breathy, and the praise, combined with the intense, tender stimulation, sends you careening toward the brink.
You find yourself sobbing, moans spilling out uncontrollably as he keeps you on the edge, relentless yet gentle, letting you ride the slow burn until you can’t hold back another second. “I… I’m—” you cry, breath hitching, “I’m gonna—oh fuck, Sunghoon!” He holds you through it, keeping your hips pressed against his, his fingers circling and teasing until your orgasm washes over you in long, trembling waves. The sound of your own pleasure fills the room, punctuated by his low groans and murmured words of admiration, grounding you even as your body shakes.
When the waves finally subside, he leans over, lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. “You’re… incredible,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours, his breathing finally slowing.
Your own chest rises and falls rapidly, a weak, blissful laugh escaping you. “You… you’re amazing too,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair, tracing the warmth of his back. And that night after Sunghoon left, you uploaded the video and watched as the comments and tips poured through. Sending Sunghoon a picture with heart emojis next to it, as you fell asleep with a smile on your face and only Sunghoon on your mind.
The next week passed in a blur of laughter, stolen touches, and the quiet click of your camera coming to life again and again. You and Sunghoon filmed almost every day, each session an unspoken challenge to outdo the last. New angles, new positions, new little experiments, things you’d only half-imagined before became living, breathing moments between you. And your subscribers noticed. Every time a new video went up, your phone would ping with comments and tips. You’d screenshot the funniest or sweetest ones and send them to him, complete with your teasing little captions: “Look, they’re obsessed with you.” He’d reply with the kind of flustered emojis you could practically hear in his voice. It was late one night when the quiet of your dorm room was broken by the buzz of your phone. Sunghoon’s name lit up your screen. You were already smiling by the time you answered.
“Hey,” you said softly, curling into your blanket.
“Hey,” he replied, and you could tell immediately something was different in his tone — hesitant, almost shy, like he was standing on the edge of a confession.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Your heart skipped, though you tried to keep your voice calm. “Okay… ask away.”
There was a pause. You could almost hear him pacing, chewing on the inside of his cheek the way he did when he was nervous. “Would it… would it be okay if I asked you out? On a date, I mean.”
Your giddiness was instant, bubbling up like champagne, but you fought to keep your tone teasing, casual. “Oh? You’re asking me out now?”
“I mean, if that’s okay—”
“Sunghoon,” you interrupted, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” The relief in his laugh made your chest ache in the best way. “Great. I was thinking… something simple. Movie night at my place.”
You hesitated, a thought crossing your mind. “What about Heeseung?”
“He’ll be gone this weekend,” Sunghoon explained quickly. “Out with Jay and Jake. He won’t be back until Monday night.”
You bit back another smile. “Then I guess it’s a date.” You stayed on the line, talking about everything and nothing, favorite movies, the dumbest videos you’d seen that week, how he somehow managed to burn toast earlier that morning, until the rhythm of his voice became almost hypnotic. Eventually, without meaning to, you drifted off.
When you woke the next morning, your phone was still warm in your hand. The call was still connected. You could hear the faint, steady sound of his breathing on the other end. You didn’t hang up right away. Instead, you let the silence wash over you, smiling into your pillow. Something in your chest felt unfamiliar, heavier, but not in a way that hurt. It was… warm. Secure. You’d never felt like this with anyone before. And in that sleepy, unguarded moment, you realized maybe what you felt for Sunghoon had already grown far deeper than just the spark of attraction or the thrill of the camera. So you decided. Tonight, during your movie night, you’d tell him.
You stood outside Sunghoon’s door with your heart pounding so hard you swore it might echo in the hallway. Your palms were damp despite the cool air conditioning drifting lazily through the dorm corridor, and your breath came in soft, uneven waves. This was it, the night you’d decided to tell him. No matter what happened, whether he smiled and pulled you into his arms, or whether things shattered into awkward silence, there would be no going back after this. You smoothed your hands over your outfit, more out of habit than necessity, then raised your knuckles and knocked. A moment passed, and then the door swung open to reveal him. Sunghoon stood there with that familiar shy-angled smile, his dark hair slightly messy like he’d been fussing with it before you arrived. His eyes flickered over you quickly, almost bashfully, before he stepped aside. “Hey… come in,” he said, voice softer than usual, almost cautious, as if he was worried you might not like what was waiting on the other side of the doorway.
You stepped inside, ready to be greeted by the usual layout of his living room, but instead your breath caught. Candles, dozens of them, lined the coffee table and windowsill, their flickering glow painting the room in shades of gold and amber. The scent of roses drifted through the air, rich and sweet, not overpowering but undeniably romantic. Your gaze swept over the little touches, a folded blanket on the couch, two wine glasses waiting on coasters. It was beautiful. You had been in this living room what feels like a million times and had never seen it so serene.
Your chest tightened. No one had ever done something like this for you. When you turned back to him, you found Sunghoon hovering just inside the doorway, rubbing at the back of his neck like he didn’t quite know where to put his hands. “I, uh… wasn’t sure if it was too much,” he admitted, glancing at the candles before meeting your eyes again. “I just… wanted it to feel like a real date.”
You didn’t even let him finish overthinking it, you closed the space between you, hooked your fingers around the back of his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. It was sudden enough to make him still for a half-second, but then he melted into it, lips pressing back against yours in warm, careful rhythm, like he was savoring the moment rather than rushing it. When you pulled back, breath catching slightly, you let your forehead rest against his. “It’s beautiful, Sunghoon,” you whispered, smiling so wide it almost hurt. “Really… you have no idea.”
He exhaled slowly, that shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips again. “I’m glad you like it,” he murmured, almost in relief. “I, uh… ordered food too. It should be here any minute.”
You nodded, still a little dazed, before he gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Make yourself comfortable.”
You did, sinking into the plush cushions, your eyes still scanning the candlelight like you were trying to memorize the feeling of this moment. Sunghoon settled down next to you, and without hesitation you curled into his side, feeling the warmth of him seep into your skin. His arm came around your shoulders in a natural, protective way, and your body instinctively relaxed against him. He reached for the remote and flicked the TV on, and you were halfway expecting some dramatic action movie or maybe one of those tense thrillers he liked, but instead, the screen lit up with the opening scene of Twilight: Eclipse. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows lifting.
“Really?” you said, unable to hide the little laugh bubbling up in your throat.
He smirked faintly but kept his eyes on the screen. “What? We needed to finish the saga. Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“I love it,” you admitted, shaking your head at him. You let yourself sink a little deeper into him, the candlelight painting shadows across his jawline, and thought about how badly you wanted to tell him everything, how this wasn’t just casual for you anymore, how somewhere between the teasing and the filming and the late-night phone calls, you’d started to fall.
And as the movie began to play, you could already feel the words waiting for the right moment to spill.
After a while the movie had all but faded into the background, the flickering light of the screen casting moving shadows across the room, forgotten in the wake of the way Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours. The remnants of your dinner, greasy pizza boxes, crumpled napkins, the faint tang of tomato and basil, were strewn across the floor, but neither of you cared. Your world had narrowed to the warm press of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed with an unhurried but desperate confidence, fingers dragging over your sides like he was mapping out the shape of you from memory. A low sound slipped from your throat as his mouth moved from yours to the curve of your jaw, trailing slow, deliberate kisses that made your pulse stutter. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between you.
“You’re… really into Twilight, huh?” you murmured against his hair, trying for playful but your voice was already shaky, laced with heat.
He let out a breath of a laugh, the sound muffled against your skin. “I’m more into you right now.”
Your stomach flipped, and you almost hated how much that one sentence affected you. Almost. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your bare skin. It was unhurried but charged, every small movement deliberate, like he was testing how far you’d let him go before you broke. You shifted, swinging a leg over his lap without thinking, straddling him as the kiss deepened again, this time messier, hungrier. Your lipstick smeared between you, the taste of pizza and something sweeter mixing in the back of your throat.
“I really want you.” Your voice was a low, husky purr against his mouth, lips brushing his in the barest ghost of a kiss as your hips rolled lazily over him. The movement was teasing but heavy enough that he felt the heat of you even through the thin layers of fabric. His hands shot to your hips like they were drawn there, fingers digging into the softness with enough force to make your breath hitch. He gripped you so tightly that the whites of his knuckles stood out, and a strangled groan tumbled from his lips, raw, unfiltered, needy, as your slow grind pressed you perfectly over the shape of his growing erection.
“Fuck.” The word slipped out of him like a prayer, like something sacred and involuntary. He lifted his hips sharply to meet yours, rutting up with an unrestrained hunger that made your stomach twist in delicious knots. His movements were clumsy in their desperation, the kind that spoke of someone barely holding themselves together.
“Can I fuck you?” you whimpered, breath coming in soft, broken fragments as your grinding picked up speed. Your voice cracked on the word please, and the plea was genuine, uttered more from aching need than any real question. Sunghoon’s answer was instant. His nod was almost frantic, messy strands of hair falling into his eyes as though the mere thought of delay was unbearable. “You don’t have to beg, baby,” he cooed, voice low and almost tender in its reassurance, even as it carried that sharp edge of lust. “Use my cock to make yourself cum.”
You huffed a laugh, half breathless, brushing your mouth over his ear. “You’ve got quite the dirty mouth now, Sunghoon,” you murmured, heat curling through your words. “I wonder who taught you that.”
Color bloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t look away. “I had the best teacher.” Your smirk deepened as you slid off his lap just long enough to strip yourself bare, the motions quick and impatient, your shorts and panties kicked to the side in a messy heap. He moved with equal urgency, yanking his pants down his thighs in rough, hurried tugs, as if the very air between you was too thick to breathe until nothing stood in the way. There was no pretense tonight, no slow lead-up, no elaborate game, just the pure, aching urgency of two people who needed each other like oxygen.
You climbed back onto him, bracing your palms against his shoulders. The heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of his shirt, and you felt him twitch beneath you when you guided the head of his cock along your slick folds, letting it tap, slow and deliberate, against your clit. His breath caught, sharp, audible, and his voice broke when he spoke. “Oh, fuck, baby… put it in.”
You gave a slow, indulgent sigh, pretending patience you didn’t have. “Patience…” you teased, stroking him once, twice, feeling the way his thighs tensed beneath you. And then, in one decisive, fluid motion, you sank down until he was seated fully inside you. The stretch was overwhelming, a delicious ache that knocked the air from your lungs. “Holy—” You didn’t finish, couldn’t, because the tip of his cock kissed that deep, sensitive spot inside you and your body trembled around him.
Planting your feet against the cushions for leverage, you began to move, fast, relentless, a brutal pace that had your hips smacking down against his in sharp, rhythmic slaps. Sunghoon’s eyes went wide behind his glasses, his gaze locked shamelessly on the place where your bodies joined. “You’re so fucking wet,” he hissed, almost in disbelief, his hands gripping and kneading your ass like he could mold you closer, pull you tighter. “So—fuck—so tight, and oh—” His voice broke on the last word as you dropped harder, faster, driving him deeper with every bounce.
“You like it?” you asked, running your hand over his chest, dragging your nails lightly across the muscle hidden under his shirt. “You like when I ride you, baby?”
“Oh, fuck—yes.” His composure was unraveling, every ounce of control slipping with each movement. His palm came down in a sharp smack to your ass, the sound mixing with your moans, spurring you on. Your thighs burned, trembling, but you didn’t slow, didn’t want to. You were too close, too wound up, your moans spilling out louder and louder until they were obscene, shameless, almost deafening in the small room.
Neither of you heard the jingle of keys at the front door. Neither of you registered the creak of it swinging open, the shuffle of footsteps across the entryway. It wasn’t until a sharp, stunned voice cut through the haze— “What the fuck?” —did the world outside of the two of you slam back into focus.
You froze mid-motion, body locked for a split second in something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t entirely shock either, more like your brain had short-circuited. Then, in a clumsy tangle of limbs, you stumbled off Sunghoon’s lap, half-falling sideways into the couch cushion beside him, heart racing in your throat. You yanked the blanket up over both of you like it was a shield that could undo what Heeseung had just walked in on. He was standing there in the doorway, red-faced, chest rising and falling like he’d just run up a flight of stairs, though you knew it wasn’t from exertion. His eyes darted over you and Sunghoon, sharp and accusing, lingering far too long on the obvious disarray of your clothes and flushed cheeks. You could practically hear the seconds ticking between you before he spat out his words, voice jagged and venom-soaked.
“What the fuck?” His tone was low, but there was no mistaking the outrage threaded through it. His gaze flicked to Sunghoon like the sight of him made something inside him rot.“So this is the guy you’re fucking now? My fucking loser roommate?” Your brows furrow instantly, heat crawling up your neck, not with embarrassment, but with fury. You wanted to scoff at the insult, to throw it right back at him, but your mouth was still stuck between shock and rage. He kept going, each word twisting the knife deeper. “Didn’t want to be with one housemate so you had to jump to the next? Tell me, why are you whoring—”
“Don’t.” The single word cracked through the air like a whip. Sunghoon’s voice, steady, lethal, and more forceful than you had ever heard it, cut him off clean. His posture was tight, shoulders squared, jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles twitch. Even sitting beside him, you could feel the tremor of restrained anger radiating from him. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” There was nothing uncertain about the way he said it. No hesitation. No hint of the shy, soft-spoken Sunghoon you’d first met.
Heeseung’s lips curled into something ugly, then he laughed. A deep, humorless, gut-wrenching laugh that echoed in the room like it belonged in a fight, not between people who once shared a bed. It made your stomach churn. You could feel the rage simmering in you, boiling over at the sound. How dare he? How dare he walk in, insult Sunghoon to his face, and then throw a word like whore at you like it was a weapon he had the right to use. “What are you, her boyfriend now?” Heeseung’s eyes were cold, unblinking. “She’s probably using you for your dick like she used mine—”
You shot upright before he could finish, the blanket falling from your shoulders. Your hand darted to the floor, grabbing your discarded shorts and pulling them on with clumsy, angry hands. “Fuck you, Heeseung.” Your voice was sharp, but your chest ached as you said it. “We had an agreement when we were sleeping together. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t have feelings for you. But that doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Doesn’t give me the right?” His voice cracked, loud and raw. “I told you I fucking loved you. And you go and fuck my fucking roommate—” You froze, the words digging deep, cutting past your anger. The weight of what he just said sat heavy in the air between you, but you forced yourself to look away, to stare down at your feet instead of the hurt in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you said softly, the words trembling. “But I love him.” It felt like your heart had leapt out of your chest and landed on the coffee table between you all. There it was, out in the open. Something you hadn’t dared to say until now, something you hadn’t even been sure of until it was already too late to take it back. The silence that followed was suffocating. Not even the ticking of the clock or the hum of the fridge seemed to fill it. You could hear the shallow hitch of Sunghoon’s breath beside you. Heeseung just stared at you for a long, still moment, his expression shifting from shock to something uglier, something like disgust.
His eyes flicked to Sunghoon, hard and accusing, before he spoke again. “I’ll have my shit out by the end of the day tomorrow,” he said flatly, like each word was being ripped from him. “You two deserve each other.” Then he was gone. The slam of the door rattled the frame, and the room fell into a silence that felt heavier than anything you’d ever felt before. You sat there, staring at the closed door, your pulse hammering in your ears, your confession still ringing in the air like an unanswered question. You could feel Sunghoon’s presence beside you, warm, steady, but you didn’t dare look at him yet. You were too afraid to see what was written on his face. Afraid that maybe you’d said it too soon. Afraid that maybe he didn’t feel the same. But you also knew one thing: it was too late to take it back now.
You sit in silence for a few more seconds, the quiet swallowing the living room whole. It’s not the soft, comfortable kind of silence you sometimes shared with Sunghoon, this one was heavy, thick with the echo of Heeseung’s voice and the sound of the door slamming shut. The air felt colder without his presence, but not in a way you wanted. The space he left behind was filled with something else, something raw and trembling between you and Sunghoon. “You love me?” His voice cuts through it all. It’s not accusing, not even disbelieving, more like he’s trying the words on for size, rolling them around in his head to see if they fit.
It hurts a little, the way the question is asked. Not because he doesn’t deserve to know, but because the moment is still bruised with Heeseung’s wrath, his disgust. Somewhere in your chest, guilt twists, because you know Heeseung will probably never forgive either of you. But the truth is the truth, and it sits in your throat like something too big to swallow. “Yes.” The word leaves you simply, barely more than a breath. There’s nothing else you could possibly say. You did love him, you had fallen before you even realized it was happening, before you could catch yourself, before you could put a name to it.
“I love you,” you say again, firmer this time, as if repetition will make the feeling more real to him. Your lips twitch with a faint, nervous smile before you add, “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I understand this arrangement was just to teach you to be more comfortable—” You don’t get to finish. He cuts you off with the sudden, firm tug of his hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him so quickly your breath catches. His mouth is on yours before you can even think, and the kiss is deep, overwhelming in its intensity. His hands thread into your hair, holding you there like letting go would be impossible. It’s desperate in the way it claims you, in the way he tilts his head just to angle himself closer, deeper. You feel him in your lungs, in your pulse, like there’s not enough oxygen between you to share. Your fingers bunch into his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded even as the rest of you spins.
When he finally pulls back, you’re breathless, lips tingling, heart racing like you’ve just run headfirst into something you’ve wanted forever. And he’s smiling, soft, sure, and entirely unshaken by what just happened. “Don’t worry about Heeseung, okay? He’ll get over it.” You nod, still dazed, still trying to catch your breath. The weight of your confession still lingers in the air, but it’s not suffocating anymore, it feels lighter now, like maybe it wasn’t a mistake to say it out loud. His thumb brushes over your cheek, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. “Only worry about how the guy you love loves you back,” he murmurs, voice warm and low, like it’s just for you.
Your chest swells, something bright and unstoppable curling through you. “Really?” It comes out half laugh, half disbelief, because part of you still can’t believe this is happening, that Sunghoon, quiet and awkward and perfect in ways you never expected, could feel the same way. He answers without words, pressing his lips to yours again. This kiss is slower, steadier, as if sealing something between you that doesn’t need to be rushed. When you pull apart, your smile mirrors his, both of you caught in that giddy, weightless place where nothing else matters, not the mess on the floor, not the storm Heeseung left behind. Just the two of you. And the quiet certainty that the story, somehow, was only just beginning.
ABOUT. you're flunking all your subjects. He’s a virgin. So you strike a deal—he tutors you academically to win a girl he has a crush on, and you tutor him in sex, simple.
