Heeseung was always on top. On top of the list with his grades, on top of popularity with his friend group, but could he be on top of you ? Not proofread ! (3.5 words)
Genre: smut
Paring: desperate!heeseung x horny!reader
Tags: sub!hee, masturbation (m and f), edging, begging, dirty talk, lowkey humiliation, lots of sperm, jay cameo, Let me know if i missed something !
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6pm 22. The school is still open, due to the school clubs like the journal or the tutoring. You're searching for someone, for him. Heeseung.
Heeseung is not just a normal student, he's the student that everybody likes, even teachers. He's the student that has good grades but never says he's better than anyone. He's the student that's the president of the student council. He's the student that throw parties the weekend for anyone who wants to come. He's the student that welcomes new people with a pretty smile. He's the student that everyone would love to be with, men or women, for the love and the sex.
Heeseung is known for two things : his good student side and his wild side. Not a lot of people had him in their bed. But apparently, when you succed that task, you're in heaven for the next hours. There is one rumor that everybody knows : after the welcoming party at the university, he was found with a girl in some random toilet, her straddling him with his cock inside her and him with his head burried in her boobs. He was rough, with no mercy. The girl couldn't walk for days after that, that's what people says.
You were searching for him because you were absent the other day and an important paper had been passed to other students, but not to you. So you went to administration and they told you to go to Heeseung.
While you were walking into the school, the sun was replaced by the moon, leading to the school being lit up only by the lights. It was the end of winter, but still winter so the day shut himself very early.
Almost all of the classrooms were empty, except for the one where students were studying or playing instruments or reading quietly. A door slightly opened caught your attention. You walked slowly to it, looking by the gap that was there. And there he was. Heeseung.
But not in his normal state. He was there but you couldn't see his face clearly because it was burried in his arms. Heeseung had his head on the table, surrounded by his arms. He had his legs crossed and he was moving them. With your point of view, that looked like he was putting strenght in them with each movement. When he finally put his head up, you could see him: his eyes were looking everywhere and anywhere at the same time, they were hooded, he was a blushing mess and his breath was fast, too fast for simply seating in a classroom.
He suddently moved his legs faster and faster until you could see that it hurted him, his eyes closed hard and his lips bitten harshly. A small sound escaped his mouth: a whimper.
You just heard Heeseung, the president of the student council that is supposed to be dominant, whimpering like a little slut. And that turned you on, more than it should have.
Heat was going straight to your core, simply by watching this filthy scene and hearing this sound that was like music to your ears. Your underwear was starting to get wet when he breathed and whimpered at the same time, opening his legs. He looked frustrated, but pleased at the same time. He started again after some time. You understood what he was doing: he was edging himself. With such determination, devotion that looked insanely hot to your eyes.
Ding ! You just received a message from "the person that ejected me from her aka mom ♡":
Hey sweetie, just a reminder that this year, you're a grown adult and that the paperwork isn't going to do itself! I'm sending you strength from wherever I am (next to your dad on the sofa). Kisses, Mom.
The text from your mom took you out of your watching session and reminded you the first thing of why you came here: the paperwork. You took all of your courage and knocked lightly on the door. Just a few seconds later, a voice welcomed you in. His voice wasn't shaky or anything strange, it was just normal. So you opened the door and greeted him with a little smile and a head bow.
"Oh, hi Y/N! I was waiting for you. So I have the paper but I doubt that the other told you what it was. You have to sign it and give at least ten euros to the administration. The money is for 'improving the school', which I doubt they're gonna do but anyway, you just have to do it."
You weren't really listening to him, you were thinking about how he regained his composure so fast and looked like he was just waiting, not like he was touching himself in school.
You asked with a little bit of shame,"Did I made you wait too long?" His gaze became surprised and a little bit soft and he said, with a smile on, "Don't worry ! I was doing something else before you came. It didn't feel like waiting." You thought to yourself, Well, you didn't came from what I saw. "Oh, and don't bother to read what is written on the paper, it's really hard to understand." And you look hard.
Even if Heeseung was really good at hiding what he felt just before, his body couldn't. The uniform's jeans were being thight around his crotch, molding his length perfectly. It almost looked painful but if it was, he showed nothing of it. Your eyes wandered only two seconds and hopefully, he didn't see it.
"Here, take it." His soft looking hand gave the paper to you, that you immediately put in your bag. He waited and started talking, "You're good at writting, right ? Didn't you win a poem contest when you were thirteen ?" Yes you did. Thinking about it now, it was horrible, but compared to other teenagers, you were better. "... how do you know that ?" You didn't tell it to anyone, too embarrassed about it. So why does he knows that ? Heeseung shook his hand fast, while looking at you, "Don't worry! It's only Jay, one of my friend that was in your middle school that told me this. I am not a creep or somethin'." Relief absorbed your eyes and you sighed. You knew Jay well, because he was your neighbor but anyway, you had what you wanted so you bidded goodbye and left, with the direction of your apartement.
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There, you prepared ten euros for tomorrow for administration and you sat on your couch, thinking about the situation you were exposed to: Heeseung. The Lee Heeseung. Touching himself in school. But more than that, whimpering. That couldn't be real but even if it wasn't, you didn't care, you wanted to see more of that. Seeing him vulnerable turned you on incontrolably. Maybe you were into that.
Maybe you were into submissive men, whimpering messes and men looking at you like you're a literal goddess. Maybe you were into Lee Heeseung. Maybe. Well, your hand knew the answer before you, as it was slowly creeping between your legs.
Your fingers gently resting on the thin fabric of your shorts made you let out a soft moan. You started caressing your clit under your clothes, and oh god, you were so sensitive. Was that how Heeseung felt in the classroom ? Your hips moved as if they had a brain of their own, emplifying the sensation. If you weren't already wet before, now you were a pool. Your cunt was dripping and squeezing around nothing. Probably like Heeseung's dick before, his head was probably wet with his pre-cum. Your fingers only going faster and faster with time passing. Probably like Heeseung's legs before. A knot was forming at the bottom of your stomach, growing while you couldn't stop humping your own fingers.
Your hand finally slipped under your shorts and panties, touching your bare core. Your eyes rolled back as a long and low moan came out of your throat. You started grinding very slowly against it and out of nowhere, the rythm escalated and your body started trembling. Probably like Heeseung before. You reached the climax and it was explosive. You tried to ride your orgasm but you couldn't, thights trembling with the force of it.
You collapsed on the couch with heavy breathing. Maybe you just touched yourself while thinking about Lee Heeseung. Maybe.
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"Heeseung, one hundred out of one hundred. Excellent, as always. I unfortunately couldn't say the same thing for you Bae, fifteen out of one hundred. You don't even try anymore. You have to wake up. But if we think about it, you're the first if we twist the paper but the paper isn't twisted. So you're the last in this class." The teacher winked at Heeseung when he handled him his exam while he threw the other at Bae's table.
"Y/N, you're not that far from Bae with your twenty five out of one hundred. I'm sure you can do better than that, try harder next time." After giving you a pitty but cheerful gaze, he gave you the paper of shame with a little note next to your grade: 'You maybe need a tutor :).'
You weren't the best in maths but needing a tutor ? That was your last straw. Studying with an old man ? No thanks. You'd rather have a zero than this.
When the bell rang, you were the first one to go out of the classroom. You went straight to the cafeteria, wanting to drown in your carbonara sauce. You didn't wanted to be perceived like someone weak. You weren't. "It's infuriating, uh?" The voice took you out of your anger. "If you keep eating like that you're gonna break that poor fork. She didn't ask for any of this by the way." You eyes landed on your ustensil that was crooked by your grip.
"Oh, you're right." A few seconds passed where she looked at you without saying a word. When you thought about getting up and leaving, she finally spoke. "So are you gonna do the tutoring thing? I do it but i never work so we kinda play board games the whole session instead of studying." Bae was spread on the table, looking at you with one eye opened. "Heeseung is pretty chill and I'm sure that he's a good teacher. I say that but i don't know because i don't work with him. He's pretty calm and..."
Bae was still talking but you weren't listening anymore. Tutoring with Heeseung? That didn't sound as bad as before. It was even a good idea. Only for work, that's what you told yourself but you knew that wasn't for that. It was for him. You had to go. No, you needed too.
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The weather was nice, not too hot, not too cold but windy. And you knew that so you wore a tiny skirt. If you bended over, the curve of your ass could be seen from below. You also wore a top that showed your boobs. Exactly what you wanted to get Heeseung hard again and hear his divine sounds. You put on makeup, did you hair and put on perfum. You took snacks and a condom, we never know what could happen, and you hopped something would happen.
You were as ready as you could be when you rang on his doorbell. Heeseung opened the door: he was wearing glasses—which he never wore in class—a black shirt, loose sweatpants, playboy underwear and he had a nervous, shy look on his face that only made him more attractive. You wanted to bite your lips but you restrained yourself, you didn't even greeted him! You took a gentle voice and a charming gaze.
"Hi Heeseung, thank you so much for helping me with maths ! It's the second time we see eachother out of the classroom, it's happening often lately ! Not complaining tho." He responded with a smile, "Hi, come in ! We're gonna start right away." Walking into his appartement, it looked exactly how you portrayed it: a cozy couch, white walls, some The Weeknd posters, a closet for alcool, a big computer, several keyboards and a pile of ramyeon? and some vinyls. It looked geek but cool. Exactly like him. You entered the kitchen and sat on the counter seats and you started working.
It has been thirty minutes and all you talked about was maths maths and maths. It was boring and Heeseung hasn't looked your way, not once because his eyes were glued to your damn copybook. He stopped wearing his glasses because he can 'think better without it' so his vison became worse. You had to do something.
Your hand accidentaly made your pen fall out of the counter and it rolled on the floor. "Oh, i'm gonna pick it up for you." He went on the floor to pick it but you were faster- and hornier. You bended to pick it up, making sure that Heeseung that was still on the floor got to see the line of your lingerie. It was small, black, made with lace and thin between your legs. You pretended not to catch the pen on the first try so he could admire the view for longer. And gosh, he saw it. The curve of your ass, your panties, all. And his dick too. He became hard in less then ten seconds and he needed right now to jerk off.
You had a plan and it was time for the next part. "Can I go to the bathroom? I don't know where it is." He led you to it without speaking, cheeks teinted with a light shade of pink. You stayed five minutes, waiting for him to realize how hard he really was. Then you came back and sat with your back arched so he could see your boobs better. You teased him during the whole session, until you could saw his tensed legs, until his ears were red, until he coughed for hiding his little moans that he couldn't contain, until you saw the shape of his length through his sweatpants. And after that, the final part could start. You made your pen roll on the table and fall between his legs.
Your hand moved and grabbed his crotch with your pen. Your grip tightened for only one second, "I'm so sorry!" and you removed your hand as fast as you could. Then, you heard it, what you waited for the whole day, he whimpered. A real, raw whimper, for you. He stopped moving and looked at you with fear in his eyes.
He looked like a dear in headlights. You looked at him with lust in yours. Heeseung wanted to speak, to say something, to disappear forever while you wanted to hear him again, "I'm so s-sorry, I-" so you pressed your hand again against his clothed penis. He did it again, and you didn't stopped.
"Y/N! What are you doing?" You watched him and said, "Edge yourself for me. Please. I'm not gonna tell anyone, this is gonna stay between us. Please, I know you want it to." You pratically were begging for him and it was so sudden that he didn't know what to do and say. Heeseung got of of his seat and breathed, "Just... wait please." His head thought were what the fuck, i'm cooked and i need to jerk off all at once.
"Of course, take your time." He sat on his coutch and thought, what would happen if he did it ? What would happen if he didn't do it ? He tried to think with his brain but his cock thought with him, influencing him to say the right answer.
"I... if I do it right now, only one time, would you let me go after this ?" His voice was so little and his eyes became round and looked at you like you were his master, you loved that sensation. "I would do anything to see that right now Heeseung, you don't know how much."
"... then come closer." Your feet landed on the floor with precaution, wanting to not scare him. You sat next to him and waited for him to start.
"Wait." You went to get the glasses he had left on the table and put them on him. He looked even more frightened and aroused—perfect.
A few minutes passed were he breathed to calm himself. Then, he started.
He crossed his legs and moved them at a tortured pace, closing his eyes harshly, as if he already wanted to come. "Mmh..." You listened to him moaning here and there, getting more and more aroused about his vocals. You then decided that if he was edging himself, you could too.
Your hand was doing slow circle on your bundle of nerves. You bit your lips and looked at him, at his face. He was red and had little tears pooled in his eyes. "Heedeungie, you're gonna cry ? Don't cry, i'm here." You took his head in your hands and caressed his hair. His voice became breathy and high when he moaned.
"Y/N... do it for me... please." He looked at you with all of his soul, ready to cry if you weren't gonna do it. "You want me to help you baby ? You need someone else's hand to get off ?" He nodded eagerly. "I'm gonna do it baby, don't move a single muscle." You croutched between his legs, looking at the obvious raging boner and at the big wet patch. "You couldn't contain yourself, your pervert." He blushed, red covering his cheeks.
You lowered his fly and looked at his Playboy boxers, stretched almost to the limit. You decided not to take them off right away, wanting to play with Heeseung. A single finger touching him, running the length of it from top to bottom. He was leaking non-stop, twitching whenever your finger came close to the head. You touched it briefly and pre-cum came out of it, forming a drop that dripped down his crotch, falling on the couch. You never saw someone leaking so much. "Y/N... please touch me."
"That's exactly what I'm doing baby, don't ask me too much." You completely stopped and lifted your finger. "No! I mean... please don't stop, I'm sorry." You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, "You want me to touch you?"
He closed his legs and begged, nodding without stopping, "Please, I can't keep it to myself, just touch me. Jerk me faster and harder 'till I can't understand anything. Please Y/N I need you so much please..." You crossed your arms. "Really ?" He pratically screamed the answer, "Yes! I feel like I'm gonna explode if you don't touch me, please Y/N."
So you gave him what he asked. You yanked his boxer in one go, took his cock in your hand, hold him very thight and wanked him the faster you could go. The sound of your hand hitting the root of it was echoing in his appartement. "Ah! Ah ah ah ah..." Heeseung moaned non-stop, going higher and higher until a tear rolled on his cheek. "I can't take it, it's too much!" You didn't stop, you went even faster, making him cry from the overstimulation.
"You can't take it Heedeungie ? Well you're gonna take it like the good boy you are." In less then two minutes, hot spurts of sperm came out of him. It was thick and long, covering his tee-shirt and your hand. He whimpered during his orgasm, making you smile. To accentuate his pleasure, you licked the edges of his head, making him shake so much that sperm went on your face too. He had trouble breathing and you didn't help by moving your hand that fast on his dick. It seemed like he never stopped coming and then, his whole body went numb, resting on the couch while panting like crazy.
"Oh... oh my god you're so- thank you, thank you so much. I never cummed that hard before. Thank you so much." Heeseung couldn't stop thanking you, his energy vanished. "Can I taste it ?" Without waiting for his answer, your tongue felt his long shaft, tasting the salty liquid that came out of it. His hips went up and he moaned for the last time before you stopped touching him.
"At my house next ?"
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Jay knew something was off, why did Heeseung was in your garden ? He thought about calling him but didn't when he saw you coming out of your house. He opened his window with the hope of hearing something. He waited and nothing came. So he continued to play his electric guitar when he heard a strange sound. Then multiple and more louder sounds came out of your house. Whimpers. Looks like someone is edging again.
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a/n: here is my first fic! hope it was well written because it was my first smut and english is not my first language so sorry if sometimes it's weird. I'm so happy, I finally finished writting it, hope you enjoyed it!
Heeseung was always on top. On top of the list with his grades, on top of popularity with his friend group, but could he be on top of you ? Not proofread ! (3.5 words)
Genre: smut
Pairing: desperate!heeseung x horny!reader
Tags: sub!hee, masturbation (m and f), edging, begging, dirty talk, lowkey humiliation, lots of sperm, jay cameo, Let me know if i missed something !
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6pm 22. The school is still open, due to the school clubs like the journal or the tutoring. You're searching for someone, for him. Heeseung.
Heeseung is not just a normal student, he's the student that everybody likes, even teachers. He's the student that has good grades but never says he's better than anyone. He's the student that's the president of the student council. He's the student that throw parties the weekend for anyone who wants to come. He's the student that welcomes new people with a pretty smile. He's the student that everyone would love to be with, men or women, for the love and the sex.
Heeseung is known for two things : his good student side and his wild side. Not a lot of people had him in their bed. But apparently, when you succed that task, you're in heaven for the next hours. There is one rumor that everybody knows : after the welcoming party at the university, he was found with a girl in some random toilet, her straddling him with his cock inside her and him with his head burried in her boobs. He was rough, with no mercy. The girl couldn't walk for days after that, that's what people says.
You were searching for him because you were absent the other day and an important paper had been passed to other students, but not to you. So you went to administration and they told you to go to Heeseung.
While you were walking into the school, the sun was replaced by the moon, leading to the school being lit up only by the lights. It was the end of winter, but still winter so the day shut himself very early.
Almost all of the classrooms were empty, except for the one where students were studying or playing instruments or reading quietly. A door slightly opened caught your attention. You walked slowly to it, looking by the gap that was there. And there he was. Heeseung.
But not in his normal state. He was there but you couldn't see his face clearly because it was burried in his arms. Heeseung had his head on the table, surrounded by his arms. He had his legs crossed and he was moving them. With your point of view, that looked like he was putting strenght in them with each movement. When he finally put his head up, you could see him: his eyes were looking everywhere and anywhere at the same time, they were hooded, he was a blushing mess and his breath was fast, too fast for simply seating in a classroom.
He suddently moved his legs faster and faster until you could see that it hurted him, his eyes closed hard and his lips bitten harshly. A small sound escaped his mouth: a whimper.
You just heard Heeseung, the president of the student council that is supposed to be dominant, whimpering like a little slut. And that turned you on, more than it should have.
Heat was going straight to your core, simply by watching this filthy scene and hearing this sound that was like music to your ears. Your underwear was starting to get wet when he breathed and whimpered at the same time, opening his legs. He looked frustrated, but pleased at the same time. He started again after some time. You understood what he was doing: he was edging himself. With such determination, devotion that looked insanely hot to your eyes.
Ding ! You just received a message from "the person that ejected me from her aka mom ♡":
Hey sweetie, just a reminder that this year, you're a grown adult and that the paperwork isn't going to do itself! I'm sending you strength from wherever I am (next to your dad on the sofa). Kisses, Mom.
The text from your mom took you out of your watching session and reminded you the first thing of why you came here: the paperwork. You took all of your courage and knocked lightly on the door. Just a few seconds later, a voice welcomed you in. His voice wasn't shaky or anything strange, it was just normal. So you opened the door and greeted him with a little smile and a head bow.
"Oh, hi Y/N! I was waiting for you. So I have the paper but I doubt that the other told you what it was. You have to sign it and give at least ten euros to the administration. The money is for 'improving the school', which I doubt they're gonna do but anyway, you just have to do it."
You weren't really listening to him, you were thinking about how he regained his composure so fast and looked like he was just waiting, not like he was touching himself in school.
You asked with a little bit of shame,"Did I made you wait too long?" His gaze became surprised and a little bit soft and he said, with a smile on, "Don't worry ! I was doing something else before you came. It didn't feel like waiting." You thought to yourself, Well, you didn't came from what I saw. "Oh, and don't bother to read what is written on the paper, it's really hard to understand." And you look hard.
Even if Heeseung was really good at hiding what he felt just before, his body couldn't. The uniform's jeans were being thight around his crotch, molding his length perfectly. It almost looked painful but if it was, he showed nothing of it. Your eyes wandered only two seconds and hopefully, he didn't see it.
"Here, take it." His soft looking hand gave the paper to you, that you immediately put in your bag. He waited and started talking, "You're good at writting, right ? Didn't you win a poem contest when you were thirteen ?" Yes you did. Thinking about it now, it was horrible, but compared to other teenagers, you were better. "... how do you know that ?" You didn't tell it to anyone, too embarrassed about it. So why does he knows that ? Heeseung shook his hand fast, while looking at you, "Don't worry! It's only Jay, one of my friend that was in your middle school that told me this. I am not a creep or somethin'." Relief absorbed your eyes and you sighed. You knew Jay well, because he was your neighbor but anyway, you had what you wanted so you bidded goodbye and left, with the direction of your apartement.
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There, you prepared ten euros for tomorrow for administration and you sat on your couch, thinking about the situation you were exposed to: Heeseung. The Lee Heeseung. Touching himself in school. But more than that, whimpering. That couldn't be real but even if it wasn't, you didn't care, you wanted to see more of that. Seeing him vulnerable turned you on incontrolably. Maybe you were into that.
Maybe you were into submissive men, whimpering messes and men looking at you like you're a literal goddess. Maybe you were into Lee Heeseung. Maybe. Well, your hand knew the answer before you, as it was slowly creeping between your legs.
Your fingers gently resting on the thin fabric of your shorts made you let out a soft moan. You started caressing your clit under your clothes, and oh god, you were so sensitive. Was that how Heeseung felt in the classroom ? Your hips moved as if they had a brain of their own, emplifying the sensation. If you weren't already wet before, now you were a pool. Your cunt was dripping and squeezing around nothing. Probably like Heeseung's dick before, his head was probably wet with his pre-cum. Your fingers only going faster and faster with time passing. Probably like Heeseung's legs before. A knot was forming at the bottom of your stomach, growing while you couldn't stop humping your own fingers.
Your hand finally slipped under your shorts and panties, touching your bare core. Your eyes rolled back as a long and low moan came out of your throat. You started grinding very slowly against it and out of nowhere, the rythm escalated and your body started trembling. Probably like Heeseung before. You reached the climax and it was explosive. You tried to ride your orgasm but you couldn't, thights trembling with the force of it.
You collapsed on the couch with heavy breathing. Maybe you just touched yourself while thinking about Lee Heeseung. Maybe.
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"Heeseung, one hundred out of one hundred. Excellent, as always. I unfortunately couldn't say the same thing for you Bae, fifteen out of one hundred. You don't even try anymore. You have to wake up. But if we think about it, you're the first if we twist the paper but the paper isn't twisted. So you're the last in this class." The teacher winked at Heeseung when he handled him his exam while he threw the other at Bae's table.
"Y/N, you're not that far from Bae with your twenty five out of one hundred. I'm sure you can do better than that, try harder next time." After giving you a pitty but cheerful gaze, he gave you the paper of shame with a little note next to your grade: 'You maybe need a tutor :).'
You weren't the best in maths but needing a tutor ? That was your last straw. Studying with an old man ? No thanks. You'd rather have a zero than this.
When the bell rang, you were the first one to go out of the classroom. You went straight to the cafeteria, wanting to drown in your carbonara sauce. You didn't wanted to be perceived like someone weak. You weren't. "It's infuriating, uh?" The voice took you out of your anger. "If you keep eating like that you're gonna break that poor fork. She didn't ask for any of this by the way." You eyes landed on your ustensil that was crooked by your grip.
"Oh, you're right." A few seconds passed where she looked at you without saying a word. When you thought about getting up and leaving, she finally spoke. "So are you gonna do the tutoring thing? I do it but i never work so we kinda play board games the whole session instead of studying." Bae was spread on the table, looking at you with one eye opened. "Heeseung is pretty chill and I'm sure that he's a good teacher. I say that but i don't know because i don't work with him. He's pretty calm and..."
Bae was still talking but you weren't listening anymore. Tutoring with Heeseung? That didn't sound as bad as before. It was even a good idea. Only for work, that's what you told yourself but you knew that wasn't for that. It was for him. You had to go. No, you needed too.
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The weather was nice, not too hot, not too cold but windy. And you knew that so you wore a tiny skirt. If you bended over, the curve of your ass could be seen from below. You also wore a top that showed your boobs. Exactly what you wanted to get Heeseung hard again and hear his divine sounds. You put on makeup, did you hair and put on perfum. You took snacks and a condom, we never know what could happen, and you hopped something would happen.
You were as ready as you could be when you rang on his doorbell. Heeseung opened the door: he was wearing glasses—which he never wore in class—a black shirt, loose sweatpants, playboy underwear and he had a nervous, shy look on his face that only made him more attractive. You wanted to bite your lips but you restrained yourself, you didn't even greeted him! You took a gentle voice and a charming gaze.
"Hi Heeseung, thank you so much for helping me with maths ! It's the second time we see eachother out of the classroom, it's happening often lately ! Not complaining tho." He responded with a smile, "Hi, come in ! We're gonna start right away." Walking into his appartement, it looked exactly how you portrayed it: a cozy couch, white walls, some The Weeknd posters, a closet for alcool, a big computer, several keyboards and a pile of ramyeon? and some vinyls. It looked geek but cool. Exactly like him. You entered the kitchen and sat on the counter seats and you started working.
It has been thirty minutes and all you talked about was maths maths and maths. It was boring and Heeseung hasn't looked your way, not once because his eyes were glued to your damn copybook. He stopped wearing his glasses because he can 'think better without it' so his vison became worse. You had to do something.
Your hand accidentaly made your pen fall out of the counter and it rolled on the floor. "Oh, i'm gonna pick it up for you." He went on the floor to pick it but you were faster- and hornier. You bended to pick it up, making sure that Heeseung that was still on the floor got to see the line of your lingerie. It was small, black, made with lace and thin between your legs. You pretended not to catch the pen on the first try so he could admire the view for longer. And gosh, he saw it. The curve of your ass, your panties, all. And his dick too. He became hard in less then ten seconds and he needed right now to jerk off.
You had a plan and it was time for the next part. "Can I go to the bathroom? I don't know where it is." He led you to it without speaking, cheeks teinted with a light shade of pink. You stayed five minutes, waiting for him to realize how hard he really was. Then you came back and sat with your back arched so he could see your boobs better. You teased him during the whole session, until you could saw his tensed legs, until his ears were red, until he coughed for hiding his little moans that he couldn't contain, until you saw the shape of his length through his sweatpants. And after that, the final part could start. You made your pen roll on the table and fall between his legs.
Your hand moved and grabbed his crotch with your pen. Your grip tightened for only one second, "I'm so sorry!" and you removed your hand as fast as you could. Then, you heard it, what you waited for the whole day, he whimpered. A real, raw whimper, for you. He stopped moving and looked at you with fear in his eyes.
He looked like a dear in headlights. You looked at him with lust in yours. Heeseung wanted to speak, to say something, to disappear forever while you wanted to hear him again, "I'm so s-sorry, I-" so you pressed your hand again against his clothed penis. He did it again, and you didn't stopped.
"Y/N! What are you doing?" You watched him and said, "Edge yourself for me. Please. I'm not gonna tell anyone, this is gonna stay between us. Please, I know you want it to." You pratically were begging for him and it was so sudden that he didn't know what to do and say. Heeseung got of of his seat and breathed, "Just... wait please." His head thought were what the fuck, i'm cooked and i need to jerk off all at once.
"Of course, take your time." He sat on his coutch and thought, what would happen if he did it ? What would happen if he didn't do it ? He tried to think with his brain but his cock thought with him, influencing him to say the right answer.
"I... if I do it right now, only one time, would you let me go after this ?" His voice was so little and his eyes became round and looked at you like you were his master, you loved that sensation. "I would do anything to see that right now Heeseung, you don't know how much."
"... then come closer." Your feet landed on the floor with precaution, wanting to not scare him. You sat next to him and waited for him to start.
"Wait." You went to get the glasses he had left on the table and put them on him. He looked even more frightened and aroused—perfect.
A few minutes passed were he breathed to calm himself. Then, he started.
He crossed his legs and moved them at a tortured pace, closing his eyes harshly, as if he already wanted to come. "Mmh..." You listened to him moaning here and there, getting more and more aroused about his vocals. You then decided that if he was edging himself, you could too.
Your hand was doing slow circle on your bundle of nerves. You bit your lips and looked at him, at his face. He was red and had little tears pooled in his eyes. "Heedeungie, you're gonna cry ? Don't cry, i'm here." You took his head in your hands and caressed his hair. His voice became breathy and high when he moaned.
"Y/N... do it for me... please." He looked at you with all of his soul, ready to cry if you weren't gonna do it. "You want me to help you baby ? You need someone else's hand to get off ?" He nodded eagerly. "I'm gonna do it baby, don't move a single muscle." You croutched between his legs, looking at the obvious raging boner and at the big wet patch. "You couldn't contain yourself, your pervert." He blushed, red covering his cheeks.
You lowered his fly and looked at his Playboy boxers, stretched almost to the limit. You decided not to take them off right away, wanting to play with Heeseung. A single finger touching him, running the length of it from top to bottom. He was leaking non-stop, twitching whenever your finger came close to the head. You touched it briefly and pre-cum came out of it, forming a drop that dripped down his crotch, falling on the couch. You never saw someone leaking so much. "Y/N... please touch me."
"That's exactly what I'm doing baby, don't ask me too much." You completely stopped and lifted your finger. "No! I mean... please don't stop, I'm sorry." You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, "You want me to touch you?"
He closed his legs and begged, nodding without stopping, "Please, I can't keep it to myself, just touch me. Jerk me faster and harder 'till I can't understand anything. Please Y/N I need you so much please..." You crossed your arms. "Really ?" He pratically screamed the answer, "Yes! I feel like I'm gonna explode if you don't touch me, please Y/N."
So you gave him what he asked. You yanked his boxer in one go, took his cock in your hand, hold him very thight and wanked him the faster you could go. The sound of your hand hitting the root of it was echoing in his appartement. "Ah! Ah ah ah ah..." Heeseung moaned non-stop, going higher and higher until a tear rolled on his cheek. "I can't take it, it's too much!" You didn't stop, you went even faster, making him cry from the overstimulation.
"You can't take it Heedeungie ? Well you're gonna take it like the good boy you are." In less then two minutes, hot spurts of sperm came out of him. It was thick and long, covering his tee-shirt and your hand. He whimpered during his orgasm, making you smile. To accentuate his pleasure, you licked the edges of his head, making him shake so much that sperm went on your face too. He had trouble breathing and you didn't help by moving your hand that fast on his dick. It seemed like he never stopped coming and then, his whole body went numb, resting on the couch while panting like crazy.
"Oh... oh my god you're so- thank you, thank you so much. I never cummed that hard before. Thank you so much." Heeseung couldn't stop thanking you, his energy vanished. "Can I taste it ?" Without waiting for his answer, your tongue felt his long shaft, tasting the salty liquid that came out of it. His hips went up and he moaned for the last time before you stopped touching him.
"At my house next ?"
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Jay knew something was off, why did Heeseung was in your garden ? He thought about calling him but didn't when he saw you coming out of your house. He opened his window with the hope of hearing something. He waited and nothing came. So he continued to play his electric guitar when he heard a strange sound. Then multiple and more louder sounds came out of your house. Whimpers. Looks like someone is edging again.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
a/n: here is my first fic! hope it was well written because it was my first smut and english is not my first language so sorry if sometimes it's weird. I'm so happy, I finally finished writting it, hope you enjoyed it!
heyy could u make some smut about jake having a new piercing on his tongue?
tongue tied. | sim jake
pairing: tutor!jake x shyyounger!reader
synopsis: your mom really took the university entrance exam seriously, even more than you since she was paying the top student to tutor you for it. jake is a sweetheart. smart, cute and responsible — but how did he get you like this?
genre: smut
contains: age gap (jake is 22, reader is 18), unethical behavior
smut warnings: oral (f. receiving), spit play, clit stimulation, risky sex, dumbification, pet names, dirty talk, fingering, edging
a/n: im just a sucker for older, oral fixated jake sorry
NOT PROOFREAD!
MDNI!
"A-aa..."
You shut your mouth right away, lips presing into a tight line as Jake kept on sucking your swollen clit.
Your legs shook, hole spasming with each flick of his pierced tongue against your throbbing bud. He was moaning against you, plump lips slick and messy with your arousal and his saliva, eyes lidded as he felt you shiver.
Your back dug into the bedside, hips shifting more against his hungry mouth. Rug under you now only rubbing uncomfortablly against your skin. Jake thrusted against the floor, painful bulge rubbing against the fluffy carpet. His cock throbbed, leaking an enormous amount of fluid inside of his boxers and sweats.
"Aaah—"
You couldn't contain the low moan that escaped you, onyl praying it reached him and his ears only.
Hoping that people downstairs didn't. That your parents were too busy doing something. Watching TV, talking about some unimportant trivia. Anything. Just anything except hearing what you two were up to instead of going over one of the final lessons for the big acceptance exam.
Jake was not stopping anytime soon. Simply pulling away when he felt you were too close. Edging you into oblivion.
You were already sore. Pussy ached, clit throbbed violently at each one of his tugs. But it still felt too good.
Too good when his piercing pressed directly to your swollen bud, carresed the dripping folds before dipping into them.
"Do you like it more now?"
Jake's voice vibrated against your heat, lips swollen and slick as he looked up at you. You nodded back, gulping down a glob of saliva at an attempt to regain your composure back. But it's not helping. Jake smirked, tongue out again as he tenderly poked your clit, again and again.
You gripped the carpet, biting your lip as you tried to keep quiet.
Never did you think one simple comment would lead to this.
Never ever did it cross your mind.
But a simple conversation about his tongue piercing as you both skimmed over the last lesson somehow ended up like this. A simple and careful "It's interesting. The piercing. I like it." felt like a switch had flipped between you two as the eye contact that took place after it prolonged more than it should have.
Now, with his head between your shaky thighs — you did like it more.
Your thighs convulsed unstoppablly, Jake's brows raised as he detached himself from your pussy again, licking the mess that stuck to his lips. The arms that circled your thighs rested on your hips as he scanned your red intimate flesh. You were so sore, swollen and leaking, begging for more.
"You're shaking so much."
Sweat clung to your exhausted body, eyes stuck and not moving away from his face. He laughed humorlessly, eyes flicking to meet yours again. Before you could utter anything, his mouth engulfed your slit whole, tongue exploring the sensitive folds for the nth time already. He didn't t break the eye contact, simply devouring you, making out with your pussy mercilessly as you gasped, trying to move away from him but still helplessly bucking against the savage action.
He sucked your clit, hard.
Your toes curled, fingers griping the fluffy carpet under you as you tried to conceal the desperate moans that clawed their way up your throat. They were breathy, low — almost a whisper that you hoped only he could hear and register. Because right now, you were hanging onto that thin string of control you fought so hard to even still exist.
He finally released your poor bud, but not for long before he kept on teasing it with his tongue, the tip of it flicking right over it. Your lips opened soundlessly, head leaning back against the bed as your lidded eyes stayed locked onto ceiling.
He was so good at this. Fuck.
A coil formed fast at the pit of your abdomen, threatening to snap any second as he kept on playing with your clit, tip of his tongue not letting it rest for a second.
Jake made a mess of you. Wetness was all over your inner thighs, sticking the your skin so tackily. It dripped down your ass cheeks, damping the poor rug more and more. Your hips stuttered against his tongue, grinding into the overwhelming stimulation.
A choked sound left you as the knot was the verge of bursting.
But then he pulled away.
You groaned in protest, hips stilling as your muscles relaxed after the continuous torture. Jake left a kiss on your inner thighs, unhooking one of his arms from under your thigh and letting his fingers come over to your folds.
His middle finger dipped into the hot mess, sliding up and down the ruined pussy as he pecked your thigh again and again.
"Just a little more baby. Just a little more and I will let you cum on it."
He sweet talked to you, finger stopping on your clit as he delivered tight circles. The new sensation made you cry out, face contorting in a newly found pleasure before your eyes blinked away the haze. You looked down at him again. Jake had his eyes glued to your slick slit, sucking in the way you swallowed the tip of his finger as he rubbed your clit so precisely.
"Fuck, it's so fucking wet." He shook his head as his eyes narrowed in pure ecstasy at the way your pussy was so filthy and embarrassingly throbbing. His lips were back onto your inner thigh, warm muscle flicking out as he left a torturous slow lick onto your sweaty flesh. His silver ball glided against it with shallow pressure, letting you feel it.
His eyes were locked onto yours again, tongue licking your salty skin, the piercing rolling against it as your pussy clenched at the simple feel of it. A whimper left you when his finger stopped, instead moving downwards and pressing the tip right against the tight entrance.
And he pushed it slowly.
"Jake—"
You tensed, muscles getting used to the feeling of his finger as he glided against your walls.
"Mmm..." He moaned, eyes closing in delight as he felt you take him, clenching and squeezing his digit tenderly as he was all the way in. He started shallowly moving, cheek pressed against your thigh before his mouth hovered over your clit.
His eyes flicked up to yours.
He blew against it.
You twitched.
And he attached his plump lips against it again. Slick mouth sucking greedily as his finger all of a sudden sped up. Your lips parted in shock. You wanted to scream, to cry. To trash against his lips. But you stayed quiet, harsh breaths leaving your nose as he kept assaulting your pussy.
"So sweet baby."
The filthy sounds that resonated the room made you close your eyes tightly, head thrown back as the pit of your stomach ached for the release. His piercing ball teased your bud, rolling against it so smoothly. He pressed, than released. Then pressed again.
It had your head spinning.
The way his finger glided against your walls made you clech around it. But it was all he needed to curl it inside, adding one more carelessly as he kept on curling them repeatedly. The motion made you gasp, your throat already dry and face burning up.
"Can't even speak, hm?"
You looked down at him, his tongue already flicking against you again. A smirk painted on his face as he felt you grind your hips towards him. You whimpered, a needy desperation behind your eyes as your lips parted soundlessly. He chuckled.
"Such a dumb little girl. Dumb because of my tongue..."
You moaned lowly with a nod, making sure it was not too loud as you let your body lead you. Jake's mouth was again around the bud, suckling so hard it had your toes curling and your orgasm approaching again. Your body arched against his fingers that tickled your insides. The way he curved them building up to something so overwhelming and new. You never felt this level of pleasure.
His fingers.
His tongue.
You really couldn't speak. Even if you wanted to.
Jake knew you were close. The way you fucked his fingers back was enough of a sign. So when he finally detached his lips again from your clit, he spat filthily on it. He let his tongue out, on full display and right against you, but not doing anything. Just waiting.
"Come on. Make yourself cum."
And you didn't need anything else.
Your hips sped up, grinding against his tongue as he positioned it right over your clit. The silver ball getting caught onto the swollen bud with each desperate move of your hips. But his fingers too. God. The way they teased you inside, curling and gliding just right as he devoured you.
You released desperate whines, eyes locked to the way your fucked his tongue. Hard and fast. Chasing your own release. Jake grinded his hips against the floor, pressing his pelvis hard as he watched you lose control on his warm muscle. Your spread your thighs more, needily grinding against his piercing.
And finally, as his piercing caught one last time, scraping your swollen clit harshly and his fingers curled harder then ever inside of you.
You came.
A sudden bliss overflowed your system. You shook and trembled, teeth digging into your lip as low moans left your throat, eyes closing tightly. Jake's fingers didn't stop, only helping you ride it out, prolonging the high pleasure as your walls clenched around him, spasming uncontrollably.
Pants left your throat as the pleasure lowered, leaving your limbs and body slowly. Sweat covered your whole body, bare bottom feeling overstimulated and ruined.
Jake's fingers slowed down, gradually coming to a stop, tongue still staying out for last bits of grinds.
Your hips finally came to a slow stop, chest heaving as he pulled back. His fingers left your throbbing hole, tongue savoring the aftertaste of you.
You tried to catch your breath, mind hazy and lost.
You swallowed as you watched him lift himself up on his knees, wiping the remmants of you with the back of his hand before he sucked off the rest from his fingers.
Just as Jake opened his mouth to say something a creak of the door made you both snap your heads in the direction. Horror shot through you, eyes wide as your oblivious mother stood there.
"Hey Y/N when— WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Jake's eyes went slightly wide, the scene so obvious and filthy. His boner prominent and damp, your bare bottom on full display as your sweaty and disheveled state were speaking volumes.
He is so not getting paid for this session.
—————
! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!
𝑺𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ✶ when you’re scouted to work for hotline 1OO9–a sex phone line—you don’t have much of a choice, rent is due and you’re jobless. But without any background or skills, you’re slowly loosing control. Surely your nice colleagues can teach you their ways, right? ✶ minors do not interact ⸝⸝
☏ 1 - 9OO - 99O DIRTY TALK
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: enhypen x 𝒇. reader 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : porn with plot, smut, reverse harem. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : phone sex operators (sex workers), gang bang (not all 7), two people sex, oral, handjob, cockwarming, dom/sub dynamics, switch reader, phone sex, lots of dirty talk, protected and unprotected sex, fxf (with a client, just talk), mxm (heejake) degradation, praising, exhibitionism, voyeurism, reader listens to Riki on the phone with a client, they all just horny as fuck, alcohol, clubbing, consent 𝐰𝐜 : ( 20𝑘 ) not proofread
“Ain’t no way. I thought we left sex hotlines in the 70s man.”
Is the first thing your friend says when you tell her you have a new job and you’re starting on monday. She leans closer, eyes a little too wide in your opinion and shakes her head like she’s just heard the dumbest thing ever. Which, granted is a sane reaction giving the bomb you just dropped on her, but if she knew the story behind it, she’d be even more shocked.
It all started a couple days ago in the subway. A bit Squid Game themed if you’re being honest, hence the weird feeling you’re still nursing. You were on the phone with your cousin, waiting for the next wagon to arrive and talking about the awful rent prices. Having just been fired from a corporate job for—and I quote—“not being smiley enough and using way too much sarcasm” (in your defense you only use it when someone’s being actively rude to you), you were left with unpaid debts and way too many bills. So you spent the entire commute shit talking the HR with your cousin, occasionally getting nasty looks from old people passing by.
At some point, the wagon started emptying and when your stop came, you were left alone in the station with a man in a suit. You didn’t pay him any mind, busy spewing nonsense about how the HR ‘had ugly eyebrows and a micropenis anyway’, but when you headed for the exit, you felt a hand on your shoulder.
You remember turning around and having to look up because of how tall the man was. He was carrying a leather briefcase like he was headed to work and when his hand dropped to his side again you clocked the expensive-looking watch on his wrist.
“Excuse me?” he said, all serious.
You looked at him up and down, tilting your head to the side so he could see the very obvious phone pressed to your ear—your way of saying ‘read the room’. But he didn’t in fact ‘read the room’, instead his hand dove in his suit pocket and he dug out a square-shaped piece of paper. It was some sort of business card, a yellow piece of paper with the words ‘Hotline 1OO9’ in the middle and a name on top. Park Jongseong. He held his hand out and adjusted his tie with the other one.
“Let me call you back hold on.” you told your cousin, scoffing before you hung up and put the phone in your back pocket. “Yes?”
The man gave a curt nod and spoke, “I don’t want to come across as weird or sound like a creep, but I’ve been listening to your voice on the subway and I was really interested by the rasp—”
“I’m tired, I wanna go home, so if this is a scam i’m really not in the mood and you can fuck off.” you cut him, sighing aggravated.
“It’s not. I run a freelance company, we work over the phone with clients and I really found your voice interesting, with all due respect. So I decided to just come talk to you, see if you were interested in the whole thing. I’m not really big on scouting people in the street because this is delicate but we’re a…sex hotline company. But you just sounded too good for me to walk away, I hope that’s not disrespectful.” the man explained, lips coming in a tight line.
You rolled your eyes, slightly offended that he thought this was a good idea and you grabbed your phone again, ready to leave, “I’m not interested, thank you.”
He must’ve felt the prejudice in your eyes when you heard the sex work part so he drew his hand back, giving you a little more space, “Its not a cam-girl company or anything. Our staff is mainly men and they only interact with clients on the phone. But i’ll leave you alone, have a good day.”
You nodded, lips drawn in a tight line and you reciprocated the farewell, turning around to head for the exit. But before you could walk up the stairs, the man spoke again.
“It pays well. You know, rent is getting awfully high these days… and my company takes this into consideration. How does 5O,OOO a year sound?”
The bastard.
Needless to say you took the business card, feigning indifference, and the second you got back home you turned on your computer.
You were jobless and on a very thin line money wise, so naturally you had to look into a it a little bit, or else you’d risk ending up in the streets because no company voluntarily seeks out a girl with a diploma so weak. A generic business diploma from a low-ranked private school wasn’t going to cut it, you knew it—so desperate times called for a little reddit deep dive.
The several Google searches didn’t give much detail, just a cryptic website with a phone number and a list of employee names with no picture whatsoever. But when you saw the date of creation of the company, you deduced that it was a very new one and so the website was new aswell.
It was weird really, that guy—you assumed his name was Park Jongseong— was fairly young, why would he go out of his way to create a sex phone line company in 2026? It was pretty much a dead practice, no one sought it out anymore and preferred watching porn or cam girls. What was the point of competing with only fans and trying to revive a dead business?
You typed the company name on reddit anyway, trying to see if this had any sort of Squid Game resemblance, if you were getting yourself into a dangerous survival game or something. But nothing much came up, just a 2 weeks old comment saying,
‘I’m surprised they still do these sex hotline things, I was interested and booked an appointment out of curiosity and as a 63 year old man, it brought so many 80s memories! The downside is that there’s only one woman worker there. But for the homosexual folks, the guys sound very hot ;)’
Well. At least it wasn’t a man-only company—in the optics of you reaching out to them. But only one woman worker sounded a little bit sketchy, not something you’d generally go for. You entered the redditor’s account and found he had fortunately posted something else about the hotline.
The calls are a bit expensive, i’ll give you that. But it’s really worth it, even if you’re not calling to jack off. My favorite one is Jake, you can tell he’s naturally submissive and not just acting. Refreshing to see submissive men in that industry!
You sighed when you found yourself in a dead-end. There was nothing else about that company, and for all you know this could be a staff member self promoting under a spam account, but for some reason it felt like you could give it a try. Not out of selflessness—the moral compass was dead—more out of desperation. It only accentuated the dilemma when you closed the tabs and found yourself starring at the dismissal notice your old employer had kindly left in your inbox.
You tilted your head and looked into the mirror across the room. You smiled at your reflection, wide, teeth and all, and cringed at the unnatural sight. When you tried again, you made it less dramatic and tried grinning with your eyes too.
Fuck them for saying you weren’t smiley enough. You could smile alright.
Your friend now looks back at you, leaning with her elbows on her thighs. “So you just took the job? Do you have a fucking survival instinct y/n?”
You shake your head, “I’d rather work a sketchy job than loose my independence and have to crash at my parents’ place.”
She raises both eyebrows, incredulous, “Well hello? I’m right here, I have a spare bedroom youu know you can always count on me, girl.”
“Did you hear the part about independence baby? You know i’m grateful though, right?” you say, playing with a hair band on your wrist. “It’s not the topic, like I know you’d take me in but I’d rather not loose my apartment at all, you know?”
She makes a small approving sound and leans back on the couch, “Yeah, nevermind. I just never pegged you for the type to work at a sex line, it’s really out of character. You’re always talking about pervy old creeps and stuff…”
You raise a finger, tilting your head like in the cartoons when they have a smart thing to say, “Well, guess what? They have a very specific way of working. You’re not allowed to fake it, if you’re uncomfortable and not into the call you can always say no. The caller will be reimbursed and that’s it. And also apparently the guys who work there are always listening and making sure their colleagues are not weirded out and stuff. All about consent and boundaries.”
Your friends snorts, “Damn, it’s a little crew of woke sex workers.”
You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at her, “I don’t know it just gives me good vibes you know? After all there’s some very lonely people who want to talk you know? And if they wanna have a wank then be it, as long as they don’t ask me to like.. bark for them or something.”
“And what if they do? What happens then, huh?” she muses, tilting your chin towards you. “You’re not gonna just cancel every phone call, cause let me tell you something, there’s a lot of guys who like submissive women.”
“Well, I don’t know, I have boundaries you know? Submissive is…fine, I guess. As long as they don’t call me their slut I’ll be fine.” you shrug, snapping the band on your wrist.
She giggles, bouncing on her seat like a manic, “I definitely wanna see that. I can’t even imagine it, that shit’s gonna be so funny. You’re like the most dominant girl I know.”
Well, turns out capitalism is the one dominating you. You’re not really on top of the sex food chain anymore because the cost-of living-crisis is fucking you in the ass. A sandwich costs 12 dollars at the subway station near your new job, so you decide to go to work with an empty stomach because there’s no way you’re going to spend your last couple bucks on a chicken sandwich. You’ll eat at lunch anyway.
The company is fairly close to your apartment, only a couple subway stops away in a wealthy neighborhood. It’s surprising how nice the little building looks—although of course they only rent out one floor it seems like they get enough clients to be in this part of town.
You straighten your clothes and buzz at the door, your paperwork in hand. A couple seconds later, the door beeps open by itself and you’re step into a small corridor that leads to an elevator. The buttons all have a name for each company, and it turns out Hotline 1OO9 is on the 3rd floor, under a Japanese food brand. You press the button and fix your hair in the mirror, putting a small clip on the smallest hairs at the front of your face.
The second the elevator doors open you’re in a dimly lit hallway with the ugliest yellow walls ever. You look around, waiting for someone to receive you, but you quickly find a sign on the door that says, “Please do knock on the door, we don’t have a receptionist yet.”
You do just that, and a few seconds later you hear rapid footsteps and a man’s voice saying something inaudible. When the door opens, it’s a tall lanky guy that comes out, he’s wearing a suit but apparently slacks weren’t an option because he’s replaced them by oversized pajama pants with small cartoon imprints on them. He sees your eyes track down to his legs and cringes.
“Oh fuck—sorry. Hello, you’re y/n right? I’m sorry, we were doing photos for the website and I didn’t want to put slacks on, we didn’t get the aircon yet so it’s so hot inside.” he looks down at himself, embarassed. “Come in come in, i’ll call the boss.”
The first thing you think is that it’s so different from a corporate job, you’ve never seen an employee talk so casually inside the company building, much less show up to work in pajama pants. Secondly, when you take a quick glance across the room you notice the lack of desks, there’s only a couch and beanbags, an open kitchen and a big door with a sign that says, “don’t interrupt sexy time”.
“So, I heard you didn’t even need to do a job interview or anything? Boss just found you in the street and decided to hire you.” the guy makes small talk as he heads towards said door.
Come on, what would Park Jongseong even have to ask you in a job interview. If you’ve ever had phone sex? If you’ve ever made a guy cum?
You nod, “Yeah basically.”
The young man opens the door, he silently pads inside and you’re left alone in what seems to be the break-room/reception. There’s a coupe moving boxes—you suppose they haven’t had time to unpack everything yet—and a big pile of paperwork on the coffee table near the sofa. You instantly get closer, trying to see if they’re court filings or something of the sort. You can never be too sure. But it turns out it’s just forms and electricity bills.
When you hear footsteps you instantly straighten up and hold your own documents closer to your chest. This time the tall guy is accompanied by none other than the boss.
Jongseong is wearing a suit (with the slacks) and the same watch he had the other day—which if you look closer looks like a Roblox. He looks at you with a pleased smile and holds out his hand to shake yours.
“It’s nice to see you y/n,” he briefly squeezes your hand, “This is Nishimura Riki, he’s our main guy, everyone requests him. I’ll introduce you to everyone and then we’ll do a quick meeting in my office, how’s that sound?”
You walk past Riki, following him in the room. The walls are fully black inside, theres a couple of pods aligned like little telephone booths with pink neon lights all over them, it looks like a strip club with just a little hint of office elements such as a printer and a bulletin board. That’s it, the rest is neon lights and apparently…5 guys and a girl standing in the middle of the room.
They seem oddly out of place, is the first thing that comes to your mind. All of them are in suits and the girl in a professional looking dress, one of them—a tall guy who looks a bit like deer—holds a camera in his hands.
“Oh god..” Jongseong sighs as he sees one of the guys dusting off crumbs from his suit, mouth full of chips. “Everyone this is y/n. I count on you to treat her with respect and to show her around the office, explain the basics and help her out if needed.”
The guys nod, all 5 of their eyes raking over your whole face and body, and the girl smiles until her teeth show. You feel a little bit exposed so you let out an awkward laugh. “Hi, nice to meet you.” you bow politely.
It’s a mishmash of simultaneous answers, a couple ‘hey’s and smiles, then Jongseong walks to them and taps each of their shoulders as he introduces them, “This one’s Lee Heeseung” he’s tapping on the guy with a camera, “this one’s Yang Jungwon, this is Sim Jake, this is Park Sunghoon and this is Kim Sunoo.”
They’re all pretty in their own ways, Heeseung has big eyes that look like they have some kind of special effect lighting in them, Jungwon’s face is very expressive, Sunghoon looks a bit more reserved but still gives a shy smile, and Jake just grins all the time like he’s genuinely just a happy guy. But the prettiest one is definitely Sunoo—they’re all insanely attractive but he catches your eye immediately with his doll-like face.
“And this is our only—well second female staff now, her name’s Haejin.” Jongseong points to the girl. She looks gorgeous, she has these big black eyes and when she looks at you, you can already tell she’s going to be a sweetheart.
See if you would’ve been working in an office with only hot people at your last job, you would’ve made an effort to smile more.
2 hours in, you learn that despite its lack of internet presence Hotline 1OO9 is a fairly successful new company. As soon as the staff is done with their website photoshoot, they instantly get back to work in their little phone cabins, diligently picking up calls. It’s a surprise that there are so many customers really—in your mind this was a very underground thing that only Patrick, 63 year old on Reddit knew about. But no, it seems like the customer are just very secretive with what they choose to do in their free time and don’t go out of their way to recommend it on social media.
There’s a friendly atmosphere in the office, like they’ve known each other for a long time, they joke around and it doesn’t really feel like the typical workspace. Refreshing.
In Park Jongseong’s personal room you go over paperwork, the whole hiring process ordeal and a couple of rules that sound totally innate to you. The boss sits in a leather chair across his desk and hands you some forms to sign.
“Okay, these are confidentiality clauses and a couple other things I need you to go over. This one regards your paychecks and this other one I also need you to sign.”
You grab his pen and start going over the documents, knee bouncing over the table. Jongseong observes you quietly, chin propped on his hand like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re uncomfortable or not.
“Are you okay y/n?” he goes.
“Yeah I’m fine, just a little nervous about messing this up is all.” you admit, putting the pen down and sliding the documents over to him.
“Mmh, I know, a lot of my employees felt the same way the first time. So here’s what I had in mind, how about I assign you to a phone call with a female customer? She’s very respectful and nice, a long time client. Only if that’s okay with you though, if women aren’t your preference or anything that’s fine.” Jongseong offers, a thoughtful look on his sculpted face.
Ah, if only he knew.
“That would be very good actually. I think I might not feel that much pressure with a girl.” you nod.
“Perfect, then it’s settled. But if you have any doubts or need any guidance you can always talk to the rest of the employees, they’re really nice you’ll see. They can even give you a few lessons.”
A while after going through basic stuff, including whats required in calls, prompts etcetera, you’re walking inside the neon room along with Nishimura Riki who kindly guides you to a phone cabin. His blonde hair sits messy on his head and the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned due to the lack of aircon.
“Call me if you need anything okay?” he winks before shutting the glass door and walking away.
You pick up the phone that’s dangling from the wall, it’s a hot pink case that looks like the ones in those 80s sitcoms. There’s a little leather chair at the corner of the pod, you take a seat and look at the wall. You tell yourself that this is fine, that it’s for the money and that there’s no shame in such a work but really your main concern is embarrassing yourself on the call and not knowing how to entertain these people. You’ve been in a couple relationships and phone sex was a recurrent topic but talking dirty to strangers is a whole other topic.
When the phone in your hands rings, you almost jump, startled.
On the other side of the glass door, you spot Sim Jake watching you from his own pod. When he sees you jump, a small glint of amusement flashes in his eyes before he quickly looks away.
You pick up the call, relaxing in your seat to give the impression you know what you’re doing and you smile, hoping it’ll make your voice sound warm. “Hey, welcome to Hotline 1OO9, this is y/n, how are you doing today?”
The voice on the other end is low, the kind you’d get flustered by in real life. “Hi y/n, I’m good how are you?”
“I’m doing great thank you. This is actually my first time so I hope this will be enjoyable for you.” you say, fiddling with the fabric of your skirt.
“Don’t worry, you have a really pretty voice so this is already going well. Plus I’m not that demanding, I’d like to know your limits and boundaries if that’s okay?” she asks.
“Thank you, you sound very pretty too. For the limits i’m practically open to anything, feel free to talk about any topic.” you tell her.
She chuckles on the other end, “Okay, if you say so. But let me know if i’m saying something that makes you feel uncomfortable okay?”
She sounds really kind, so you hum, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know, but i’m pretty sure I won’t need to. So, tell me a little more about what you’re hoping from today?”
“Honestly just a nice little chat, I’m…well I live in a very small town and I’d be a pariah if I ever came out of the closet so you know…I can’t really date girls there. The first time I called Hotline 1OO9 it was mainly to have phone sex, i’m no liar. But I talked to Haejin a couple times and it felt so comforting. I felt much less lonely, so I don’t really mind if this stays sfw you know?” the girl chuckles.
“I get it, I’m sure we can figure out the vibes throughout the call. Just know i’m open to both, whatever you need sweetheart.” you smile, genuinely this time.
When you look outside the pod, you find Heeseung and Jake watching you curiously. They’re leaning on the wall of their own pod and as soon as you spot them they quickly look away.
“Thank you, that’s nice to hear. Have I already told you how pretty your voice sounds?” she responds.
You look back at the wall, “I’m sure you did a couple seconds ago, but I liked it. You know when you can tell someone is pretty by the sound of their voice? That’s exactly how I feel about you.”
The girl chuckles, “Is it weird that sweet girls turn me on so much? I must be so deprived.”
“Well if that’s what you like I can be even sweeter. I bet I can even come up with sweet things to say if you tell me what you’re wearing right now” you tease, confidence coming easier than expected.
Turns out you’re a natural…?
“I’m wearing a tank top and my underwear,” she says, and you hear the phone move a bit.
“Mmh, soft little tank top? Is it tight?” you ask.
“It is, what are you wearing y/n?” she pushes back, tauntingly.
“I’m wearing a tank top too, and summer shorts.”
You’re not. You’re actually wearing office attire but she doesn’t have to know.
“Cute. Before anything, do you like being called a good girl y/n? Is that something you’re comfortable with?” you hear her take a soft panting breath, is she already turned on? Did you do good?
You’re tempted to ask her if you’re doing good, for the first time of your life you’re seeking approval. You contemplate the question for a quick second. You’ve never been called that and you’ve already unconsciously made up your mind about it, for some reason. It’s not something you’d ever ask your partner to call you, but it would be a stretch to say it makes you uncomfortable.
“You can call me anything you want pretty.” you respond, one leg crossing over the other.
“Mmh, atta girl.” she smiles on the other end. “I just want your voice and your attention. Can you do that?”
Well damn it if she doesn’t sound hot. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Soft voice for me, please. You’re not in charge right now. You’re just here to listen and answer when I ask.” you feel her get more and more comfortable but your habits get the best of you. You’re not used to being what she’s asking for.
“Alright, soft voice. I’m sorry,” you apologize, shifting in your seat.
“That’s better. Tell me how it feels, hearing me talk like that?” she rasps.
“Strange. I keep wanting to flip it and ask what you’re doing. It’s harder than I thought to just… stay quiet and follow.” you admit. You can tell she noticed the stiffness in your voice.
“That’s okay. You’re allowed to find it hard. You’re still doing it. You’re being a good girl just by trying.”
“…Thank you. I’m not used to hearing that.” you swear you feel something in the pit of your stomach when she utters those tempting words, and your thighs squeeze together for a brief second.
“You don’t have to know how to answer it perfectly. Just take it, okay? I’m gonna touch myself while I talk to you, but you stay still. Hands where they are. No touching.” she orders.
When she hears you hum, she presses, “Words baby. I need words.”
You almost gasp, clutching the phone tightly, “Yes, hands staying put. I’m sorry I don’t really know how to—”
“Shh, it’s fine. You’re doing good.” the words send sparks down your spine until they reach your core. “You’re fine. Tell me you’re my good girl.”
You take a deep breath. Outside, Heeseung and Jake are still pretending they’re not quietly observing, but you can tell they’re seeing your state. It should be embarrassing because they’re complete strangers and you’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been sexually, but it isn’t. You like them watching, probably speculating in their heads, wondering if you’re aroused or extremely uncomfortable.
Truth is, both are mingling together in your head.
“I’m your… good girl?” you reply.
It comes out with a little interrogation at the end, and you instantly feel as stupid as ever. First day on the job and you’ve probabl already lost a client.
You didn’t expect to come out of your very first call with soaked panties and a dizzy head.
It’s funny how a confident woman can turn the sassiest girl into an embarrassed mess. But you can only admit you liked it, liked the attention and the care. Even more when she reassured you and praised you. That made you feel things you’d never felt before—as silly as it sounds—you’ve never expected to feel this way about a complete stranger.
Your panties are uncomfortably clinging to your pussy as you exit the pod, closing the door behind you. How much of a horn dog are you to be turned on by your job?
Heeseung and Jake instantly get off the wall and clear their throat, “Hey, how did it go?” Jake says with a small smile.
“It went good,” you reply before reframing, “Actually it went kind of bad. I hope I didn’t make us loose a client on my first day.”
Heeseung lifts an eyebrow, “How bad?”
You let out a self deprecating scoff, “I didn’t really know what I was doing, like at all. I expected her to let me lead but it was the opposite.”
Jake observes you, eyes trailing down to your bare legs involuntarily. He catches the tension there and quickly averts his gaze.
“Oh don’t worry, you just have to learn. Jungwon was like that at first but he got better and now he’s comfortable with a lot of different things.” Heeseung reassures you, lightly touching your forearm.
“What about Jungwon?” you hear a voice say behind you.
Turning around, you fall face to face with Yang Jungwon himself, holding a cup of coffee and a cookie wrapped in tissue.
“I was telling y/n about how it took you a while to learn the whole sub thing.” his colleague explains, leaning back against the wall lie he was earlier.
“Oh yeah, it was so weird at first. Random men telling me to be a good boy and take it, eugh. But I learned to enjoy some sides of it and not take it too seriously.” Jungwon explains.
It sounds a little bit off, like he shouldn’t just endure it because it’s part of the job, but you don’t say anything. Instead you’re surprised when he holds out the cookie in his hand before you.
“Here, I got this for you.” he smiles.
You take the sweet in your hand, “Oh thank you! You’re too sweet,”
It’s a caramel and black chocolate cookie, one of your favorites, and it tastes like heaven when you eat a piece of it. Jake mumbles something like, “what about me? I wanted a cookie too,” but you’re the only one who seems to hear.
“Don’t worry about it, how did your first call go?” Jungwon asks, siping on his coffee.
“Awkward. For her definitely. I was a mess, i feel like I wasted her money.” you admit with a self deprecating chuckle.
“I’m sure it’s fine, she can complain to customer service but trust me she won’t.” Jake affirms. “If you ever need pointers, stuff like that, you can let us know.”
Jungwon nods vehemently, “Totally, I’d be happy to help you out. I remember when I was a newbie Riki helped me out a lot and it went smoother afterwards.”
“Love you too man,” a deep voice cuts in.
It’s Nishimura Riki entering the room. He’s changed into casual clothes and ditched the cartoon pants, his hairs a little messy and he looks unfairly good.
“What’s up y/n? How was it?” he asks, almost like an old friend.
“Well, let’s just say I need some help.” you finish your cookie, wiping your mouth with the little tissue.
Riki clicks his tongue, “Anytime,” he looks at you up and down shamelessly, not even bothering to be subtle, and he smirks. “We can talk over lunch. Haejin and Sunoo are gonna eat out but we’ll all be here in the break room.”
A couple hours later and another two more calls in your record, you slip out of your booth. It went somehow smoother. The first guy was just a lonely guy who ended up crying instead of jerking off—which almost triggered your tears because of how sensitive you are—and the second guy was submissive at best, vanilla at worst.
The neon room is empty and everyone seems to have gone to the break room to grab lunch. You open the door and see that they’re already there.
Riki and Jungwon are sitting on a red leather sofa, Jake’s thrown on a beanbag along with Heeseung who’s on the floor eating chips, Sunghoon’s on a metallic chair with a rubik’s cube in his hand, laughing at something Riki’s saying.
“Oh y/n, come sit, come sit.” Jungwon lifts his head up and smiles. “We were just talking about Riki’s next client and how you could maybe listen to their call to get the hang of it.”
You take a sit on the only spot available which is next to him on the couch. Jungwon makes some space for you and hands you a paper towel and chopsticks when he sees you open your bag and take out a tupperware with last night’s meal.
“That would be awkward wouldn’t it? And what if the person doesn’t want that?” you cringe.
Riki responds, “Nah, she won’t mind. She’s a regular and she’s kind of into the whole humiliation and being heard thing. I’ll let her know beforehand though.”
You hum, considering it, but before you can say anything Sunghoon buts in, “What’s the problem though, when you do it what do you find hard?”
You dig into your meal, relaxing on the back of the couch like you’ve known these people for a long time. “Everything. Like to submit in general, I’ve never been… I hope i’m not oversharing but anyway, I’ve never been told what to do and I’m not sure how to respond or what to do, you know?”
Sunghoon nods comprehensively, “If you freeze or don’t know what to say, it’s completely okay to admit it, you know? You could say ‘I’m not sure what to do right now’, some people even like that, the honesty.”
“Yeah, and keep your responses short, just focus on listening and following one small instruction at a time. That’s already submitting.” Heeseung adds, eating his salad.
You feel insanely integrated already, almost like in preschool when you talk to people and instantly become friends with no need for introductions. Except well, you’re ‘bonding’ over bdsm right now, as insane as that sounds.
“Sounds easy but my brain becomes mush when I’m in the moment.” you shrug.
“How did the other two calls go?” Jake asks, now lying on the beanbag.
“First guy ended up crying. Wife left him and he’s lonely. The second guy was okay, he let me take the lead.” you explain.
“Oh so that’s why, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your eyes get teary.” Heeseung chuckles. “I was walking by, almost knocked cause I thought you were gonna cry because of him.”
“No, I almost crying with him. Kinda caught me off-guard” you smile, recalling his sad voice. “But then I thought ‘what if his wife left him because he was an awful dude’ and got my shit together.”
Riki gives an amused smirk, “Perks of anonymity. I always wonder who’s on the other end—like imagine I’m dirty talking to someone who’s on an FBI watchlist?”
Everyone laughs as they finish their food and when all meals are practically empty, Park Jongseong emerges from his office.
“Already laughing together? That’s good.” he smiles, heading towards the open kitchenette and opening the fridge. “How’d it go y/n?”
You tell him about your first experience and the rest of the morning while Jongseong sits on the chair Sunghoon gives him. He listens and gives the same advice the others provided, before suggesting—just like they did—that you listen to one of their calls.
You learn after a bit of talking that he prefers to be called Jay, that Jongseong’s his official name but it sounds too serious. Everyone shares their age, and it turns out you’re right in the middle, Heeseung being older than you. You all chat cheerfully until Jay’s phone rings loudly in his office and it breaks the moment, calling the end of lunch break.
“Alright, sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Riki says as he opens the door of his phone cabin.
You do just that, sinking down on the little armchair on the conrner of the pod while he takes the other one. Riki extends his legs before him, man spreading on the chair as he grabs the phone in hand.
You think he’s going to say something but his eyes wander outside the pod and his eyebrows cock. “Nosy fuckers.” he mutters.
You follow his gaze and find Heeseung and Jake peeking inside, their hands on the glass like two kids. Do they have some sort of curiosity problem?
Riki gets up and reaches for something on the ceiling of the pod, his shirt lifting and revealing a hint of skin and what looks like a tattoo on his hipbone. This is the type of man you’d gush over outside of work, tall, lean and tattooed. But you have to focus on the task at hand.
He unhooks something and a thick curtain suddenly covers the glass door and plunges the room into darkness. “Shit, didn’t think this through.” he mutters, reaching blindly for the wall.
You stand up to help him find the the light but only end up bumping into him in the process. You feel your forehead hit Riki’s chest and when he finds the light switch you’re entirely too close. You swear you see him smirk as he sits back down on his armchair, spreading his legs like he owns the place.
It should infuriate you—you hate men who do that—but he looks good doing it, and as opposed to the men on the subway he’s doing it on his own armchair and not bothering anyone. Or yeah, maybe he’s just hot and that excuses it.
When the phone rings, Riki looks at you for a second, trying to read your face before he hits the button. “You okay?”
You nod, “Yeah yeah, go ahead.”
“Good girl,” Riki rasps.
You immediately freeze eyes narrowing in confusion, but the tone of his voice sends shivers running down your arms for some reason. He starts chuckling, clutching the phone on his lap, “Relax, it was just to set the mood.”
When you roll your eyes, avertin your gaze, he says a quick ‘Alright, just listen.” before he picks up the call.
“Afternoon,” Riki greets, a smug little look on his face like he just knows hes gonna do some damage.
You don’t hear the conversation at first, so you wonder what the point of it even is, it’s not like you need lessons in being dominant…
“There you are, how are you tonight?” he asks, one draped over his lap in a way that makes him look even manlier—if that’s even possible.
You see him nod before he replies to whatever she said, “Good. Before we start, I have someone here with me, she’d love to hear what a good girl sounds like when she’s being led. And I know you’re a good girl so you’re the perfect example she could get, am I right baby? I’m gonna put you on speaker so she can listen, you comfortable with that?”
There’s a pause during which she says something and he listens attentively, but his eyes are set on you. It’s like he’s silently making sure you’re giving him your full attention. The lesson’s gonna go really well if he keeps looking at you like that.
“Mmh, I thought you might. Say it clearly for her.” Riki smirks, a playful glint in his dark eyes. He clicks on the speakerphone button and puts it between the both of you.
“I’m okay with her listening, sir. I like being heard.”
She sounds young, in her late 20s and is already slightly out of breath. Very much like a specific someone… just not exactly for the same reason. You’re struggling to breathe because the room is a bit narrow and you’re bordering claustrophobia right now. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself instead of admitting you’re intimidated and also never thought your first day would go like that.
“Good girl. She’s sitting quietly right now, just observing. You’re going to stay honest and clear for both of us. Understood?” Riki continues.
And you feel his words in your stomach, cutting thought the barrier of embarrassment and principles because apparently you’ve left those out the door this morning.
“Yes sir.” the woman answers obediently, and you wish you could say you’re taking mental notes but really you’re focused on the 6ft something man whose gaze is bored into you. You know he’s trying to ‘set the mood’ or whatever, but it sure feels personal.
“Tell me where you are and what you’re wearing.” he questions.
“I’m in my bedroom… on my knees beside the bed, like you usually want. I’m only wearing my panties. Nothing else. My hands are in my lap like you said last time.” she replies, breath hitching like she’s getting turned on by her own submission.
“That’s good, hands stay in your lap ‘kay? You’re not touching yourself until I say so. You’re just gonna kneel there and answer me while she listens to every word. Clear?”
Yeah it feels personal. You cross your legs, feeling way too exposed and your hands fiddle with your skirt nervously.
“Yes sir, clear.”
“Then start by telling her what you are when you’re on the phone with me, baby.” Riki toys with the cord of the phone, looking at you all the while like he’s seeking your full focus.
“I’m a desperate slut who needs to be told what to do, sir.” her voice comes out smaller, you take notes on the tone and the specific words.
Riki clicks his tongue, “Louder. She’s right here. She needs to hear it properly.” The woman repeats it louder and he hums in approval, “Better. You’re doing good. You gonna keep being good for me okay, now spread your legs nice and wide. Keep your hands in your lap— don’t touch.“
There’s a small rustle of movement on the other end before she says in a small voice, “They’re spread sir.”
“That’s a good girl, does it feel nice being heard like that?”
You’re captivated by this stranger under the weirdest circumstances of your life. The way he talks sends warmth pooling in your lower stomach and you feel like an intruder.
The woman hums, “It feels… humiliating. But in the way that makes me wetter.“
Alright, too much information, you think, looking up at the ceiling to try and escape his gaze. The longer you listen the more you ge the hang of it, she doesn’t try to perform, she just does as she’s told, it’s not that complicated. Your thighs press together on the seat, and you’re pretty damn sure Nishimura Riki has noticed it but at least he has office etiquette and doesn’t say anything about it.
Not that anything about this screams ‘office’…
You stand up, legs a little wobbly. No kink shaming but this isn’t really your thing, and you don’t want to start hearing her flick the bean, as much as you’re curious about how Riki would sound talking her through it—
“Going?” the young man’s eyes follow your figure.
“Yup, think I got what I needed,” you whisper, low enough that the customer doesn’t hear.
The next few days are better. You slowly get the hang of it until you’re on a call with a man on your third day, and things go a lot smoother. It starts coming naturally, the pace, the words, everything starts being a little easier once you imagine it’s Nishimura Riki on the phone—
Major slip-up. What you meant is that Riki’s such a good mentor that it feels reassuring to imagine him because he’s not a stranger anymore.
Or at least that’s what you’ve established after eating together for a whole week straight on lunch breaks, sharing details of your lives with the other colleagues and joking around. They’re all extremely friendly and you quickly learn that they’ve all had some sort of financial problems which led to them being desperate for a job.
They’re not even surprised when you share that you were suspicious of Jay when approached you in the subway like the recruiter in Squid Games. They say he likes to do funky stuff like that for the love of the game and joke that he probably had a crush and didn’t know how to shoot his shot so went with the business approach.
You find that hard to believe since Jay hasn’t really talked to you all that much these past few days, but it’s not like it’s important anyway.
You begin noticing that Haejin is the sweetest person alive, she’s genuinely kind and means well—a nice upgrade from your old colleagues who didn’t hesitate to talk shit about you in front of the male staff just to get their attentions—she’s soft spoken and gives amazing advice on how to make the dirty talk flow. Granted that’s not something you thought you’d ever talk about with a woman you’ve only known for a couple days but she’s got a way of making you feel at ease, so much so that you end up telling her over the course of lunch, that you haven’t sex in a few months.
“How do you even live?” Haejin groans like she’s been hurt.
You snort, knife digging in your reheated steak, “I’m doing just fine. Kind of tense with all that sex talk all day long, but it’s fine.”
Haejin nods avidly, “I know right? I was just like you when I first started working here. But then I just became the horniest bitch ever. There’s no other way to put it.”
You chuckle at the curse word coming out of her sweet sweet mouth, “Its like i’m having foreplay all day but no real sex.”
“Oh I totally get it. Even the guys weren’t like that when I first met them. We all came here around the same time and I remember Jake for example, he was so calm and sweet. Now he’s gone mad, one time he even got a boner in the neon room. But don’t repeat it though, or he’ll be embarrassed.” Haejin whispers secretively.
Jake is sitting across the room on one of the beanbags, his phone in hand. He’s wearing jeans a t-shirt that really brings out the color of his eyes and—
Yeah, to be honest it’s just a white t shirt, nothing to do with his eyes. What it brings out though, is the outlines of his broad chest.
“I feel like that’s just natural, it’s basically sex all day long, how can you not react?” you reply, one hand covering your mouth like a true gossiper.
“Er, yeah. You’re probably right. He’s not even the only one, it’s like working with a bunch of sexually frustrated guys. Thank God they’re respectful though.” she affirms.
You look around the room, only Jake and Sunoo are here, Sunoo on the red leather couch doing god knows what on his phone. The rest of them are in the neon room probably working and Jay is out of town for a meeting.
“What you got this afternoon?” Haejin asks you, her fork raised in the air.
“A call with the guy who cried the other day and then a new client. The rest I don’t know yet, I’m waiting for the boss to send in my schedule.” you tell her.
“I’ll get you some tissues jeez, that one’s gonna be tough. Sometimes all these guys need is a therapist I swear.” Haejin rolls her eyes amused.
Before you can even answer, the phone rings on the front desk—or more like the kitchen aisle that Jay has transformed into a reception desk for the lack of one. Haejin grunts but you stand up before she can, “Don’t worry I got it.”
You pick up the call, it’s a delivery guy telling you there’s a package for Hotline 1OO9. “Yep, i’ll be here in a second, let me just get someone.” you reply when he tells you that they’re heavy boxes.
You put the phone down and look at Haejin who’s currently finishing her poke bowl, Jake and Sunoo are also munching on a sandwich so you decide to go call someone else and let them eat in peace.
A couple seconds later you’re softly opening the door to the neon room and peeking inside. It’s practically silent but you can see Riki, Sunghoon and Heeseung are in their respective sound proof booths on a call. In the corner of the room on a little chair he’s probably moved, Jungwon’s sitting with his phone, chin resting on his fist.
“Jungwon.” you whisper shout, hoping he’ll hear.
His head snaps up instantly and his once bored face turns into a smile. “What’s up?”
You point behind you and he understands, standing up to come join you he closes the door behind him. “There’s a delivery guy with some heavy boxes, can you come help me?”
Jungwon nods, following suit as you head out the office. In the elevator there’s a long silence before the doors open to the main entry and you fall face to face with 6 big boxes—screw that, huge boxes. They’re stacked haphazardly in the middle of the main entryway, practically blocking the doors. For a second, you just stand there, staring at them.
“What the heck is this? Did the boss even say anything about some packages?” Jungwon blinks several times, arms already tired just with the sight. He greets the delivery guy and signs the receipts.
“Not to me anyway.” you say when he leaves, crouching in front of one of the boxes and looking for a tag. When you find a tiny tag with an eggplant drawing you instantly understand. “That’s a box of penises.”
Jungwon snorts, surprised. “What?” he crouches next to you, his arms brushing yours and he takes a look at the side of the box. “Yeah that’s definitely a penis box.”
You chuckle, bumping his elbow and standing up to grab the boxes but he doesn’t, “Wait, let me see what’s inside before.” he says.
Before you can even tell him not to, Jungwon rips open one corner of the box and peeks inside—no literally shoves his eyes in the little gap.
“Yeah, it’s dicks.” he states once he comes up.
“How many of them?” you puff out your cheeks, fighting an incredulous laugh and Jungwon shrugs.
“Probably more than a hundred, judging by the number of boxes. Why are they sending hundreds of dildos here?”
You go towards the other box, ripping the corner but more gracefully than Jungwon did. Inside this one there’s a ton of wrapped up pocket pussies, other male sextoys and business cards. “This one has different ones. Who is this even for?”
“Probably for the clients, like freebies or something…?” Jungwon shrugs, bending to lift one of the boxes. The muscles in his arms flex as he hauls the heavy weight, his jaw clenching. The second you bend down to grab one of your own he tuts, “Let me do it, they’re heavy. I don’t want your back to hurt.”
You roll your eyes—although you secretly find it endearing—and you lift up the box, “I’ll be aight. I’m a big girl.”
Jungwon huffs a laugh, “Oh I know you are.”
And what does that even mean??
You practically melt on the spot—though you never show it—and you head towards the elevator careful not to snap your whole body in two with the hefty weight. It’s the goddamn job they do, it’s making them all hot and filthy and you’re starting to become just like them, sensitive to the smallest details and interpreting everything in a weird way. You need to get a grip.
After hauling the boxes inside the elevator, Jungwon gets in beside you and wipes the little bit of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, and of course, his shirt rides up on his v-line. Because it wouldn’t be funny otherwise.
When he catches you looking involuntarily, he smirks, eyes narrowing as the smirk becomes a full on smile. “You okay? Your back hurt?” he asks when you move and subtly wince.
“I’m good—” but you don’t have time to say anything before he gets behind you and places a hand between your shoulders.
The elevator seems to take 20 years to get to the third floor as Jungwon presses between your muscles, softly massaging the flesh, “See, you’re a liar, there’s tension there.”
You scoff, half amused half…turned on? Whatever the heck is happening to your body these days needs to be blamed on the job. “I’m fine, you worry about your own shoulders.”
You turn around at that—big mistake—and end up facing him. He’s taller so you have to look up and when you do, his eyes are slightly hooded, like he’s faded. Your brain screams, ‘dick dick dick dick dick’, so much so that you end up laughing in his face. You’ve completely lost it.
“What’re you laughing about?” Jungwon gives a curious smile, looking down at you.
Blessed be the elevator, you’re saved from having to come up with an answer when it finally stops on the third floor. Thankfully, Sunghoon and Jake are already waiting in the hallway, ready to help with the boxes.
“Boss just called, he’s ordered some freebies for the regular customers.” Sunghoon informs you, grabbing one of the packages effortlessly.
“Is there candy inside? Or like merch?” Jake asks, his eyes widening at the size of the boxes, cocking his head.
“Jake be for real man.” Jungwon chuckles, grabbing a box too, “What kind of merch could he be sending out to these people?”
“It’s dicks and pussies” you add, helpfully.
Jake’s expression turns into one of exaggerated disgust, “Jay’s just gonna send out sextoys?”
“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t tell girls and boys to stroke their shit and talk them through it all day long,” Sunghoon laughs, rolling his eyes.
“What happened with sex toys?” Haejin butts in as you all carry the boxes inside, she holds the door open and looks over curiously.
“It’s for the regular customers,” Sunghoon explains, stretching after he drops his box on the floor.
“Hello, I’m a regular customer.” she bows dramatically, “No jokes I hope we get to have one too.”
Jungwon laughs, “Just take one, I’m sure he’s not gonna spend an hour counting sextoys.”
Best believe Haejin does take one, she even invites all of you to do the same but only Sunghoon seems unbothered enough to suit himself. As for you, it’s not like you’re ashamed of using sex toys but holding a dildo in your hands in front of three buff guys isn’t not something you’d really like to experience today.
A couple minutes later, Riki and Heeseung emerge from the neon room and sit next to Sunoo on the couch. The oldest throws his head back until it hits the wall and groans, “I’m so tired.”
“What happened?” Sunoo asks him.
“The girl I just got a call with wanted me to call her my ‘little horny slut’.” he grunts, burrying his face in his hands.
“Why the fuck are you complaining right now?” Sunghoon blurts, incredulous, “I just spent 20 minutes on the phone with a girl who wanted me to call her ‘bad little gold-digger’.”
Riki snorts, one hand covering his mouth, “I usually don’t kink shame but how the fuck is that enjoyable.”
Before anyone can start venturing into this embarrassing topic, one of the phones in the neon room rings loudly, starting everyone.
“Oh shit, fuck. Forgot about the crying guy.” you say cryptically as you hurry towards the room.
You forgot you had work. Perfect.
You hear Haejin chuckle, “What is she talking about?” she asks when you’re out of sight.
You slip inside your pod and quickly grab the phone. In a hurry to pick up you press the button a couple of times and speak into the microphone, “Hello, this is y/n, good afternoon.”
But no one answer, it’s just a mess of static and creaking noises so you push the button again. “Heeello, this is y/n good afternoon.”
Crickets.
You put the phone down and make a beeline for the break room, once you’re there all of their heads snap up to you. “Can someone help with my booth, the phone won’t work I can’t hear the other person and there’s like static and stuff.”
Everyone turns their heads to Jake at the very same time, like he’s the assigned handyman of the office. Well apparently he is, you learn when Sunoo says, “Ask Jake, he’s always the one who fixes the phones. He knows his way around electronics.”
Jake stands up promptly, dusting off his jeans and looking over to where you stand with a sheepish smile, “I’ll help you.”
He follows you into the neon room and inside the pod, crouching in front of the cables. “We always get technical difficulties these days, I don’t know why Jay won’t just change the phones. Were you only hearing static?”
You nod in response, crossing your eyes with furrowed eyebrows, “I picked up and couldn’t hear a thing.”
Jake tweaks some buttons, a very focused look on his face, and once he estimates he’s done he looks up at you from where he crouches. “Try calling him back now, tell me if it’s fine.”
You do just that, sitting at the edge of the armchair you dial his number and wait. Once the ringing stops you finally hear a voice,
“Hello?” you call.
“Oh, finally, I thought you—” the rest is completely inaudible. You look down at Jake and give him a thumbs down. “Do you hear me?” the man tries again.
“I can hardly hear you, my colleague is trying to fix the issue, I’m so sorry.” you apologize, a little self conscious, “can you try and speak again for me?”
There’s a little bit of static before you can finally hear the man again, “—worry, you’re worth the wait. Take your time but—”
You curse under your breath as the line cuts again, and Jake messes with the cables, eyebrows pinched together, “Can you repeat that for me darling?” you tell the other man.
But Jake snaps his head up with a small, ‘huh?’ cheeks flushing like he thinks you were talking to him.
“Not you, dummy.” you whisper, pointing at the phone with a chuckle.
“I said don’t worry you are worth the wait, and to take your time but to not hang up on me.” the other man repeats.
“I won’t hang up on you, my colleague’s working on it as we speak.” you assure him, “How about we start? I don’t wanna waste your time.”
You hear him hum, pleased, “Whatever you like, I’d wait for you anyway.” he says, sounding a little desperate already.
You didn’t catch that side of him the other day because he unfortunately started crying midway through the actual dirty talk, but right now he sounds a little bit needy. He’s a divorced millenial but he seems particularly submissive, so a win is a win.
“You’re cute,” you fake-chuckle seductively, well aware that Jake is a couple of inches away, “What are you doing right now?”
You hear the sound of fabric ruffling and the smallest groan, “I’m in bed right now, I have my—”
The static starts again and you softly tap on Jake’s shoulder, “It’s cutting again, what should I do?” you whisper.
Your colleague holds a cable in his hand and looks up, “Just ask him to repeat and keep going while I figure this out, tell him he’ll get a price reduction or something.”
You nod, “Can you repeat handsome? I’m so sorry I couldn’t hear you.”
“It’s okay mommy, I said i’m in bed and I have my dick in my hand, hope that’s okay.” the man says, big emphasis on the mommy part.
You cringe, rubbing the corner of your eye as you fight to maintain your composure in the awkward situation. There’s a 50 something year old calling you mommy on one side and a very handsome puppy-looking boy on the other.
“Did I say you could touch yourself?” you get back into character, leaning back against the armchair.
You see Jake’s shoulders twitch imperceptibly as he continues working but he doesn’t turn around or make a sound. On the end of the line, the man lets out a pathetic little moan, “I’m sorry mommy, i’m sorry. I’ll be better.”
Oh my days, you think to yourself.
But what cancels the second hand embarrassment is Jake’s reaction when you speak next.
“Look at you apologizing, that’s a good boy. Now don’t touch it until I say.” you tell the old guy in a low voice.
You swear you see Jake’s cheeks turn completely red, his hands slightly shaking as he works the electronics. And somehow that’s so much more thrilling than a guy calling you mommy. You think about what Haejin said earlier when she mentioned the state Jake was in ever since he started working here. The idea of toying with him seems so amusing, because as unprofessional as it sounds, what is even professional about this job in the first place?
“Yes mommy, I’ll—” the other man says, the line glitching again. You assume he’s saying what any submissive guy would say, which is ‘I’ll be your good boy’, it sounds coherent so you don’t even bother asking him to repeat.
“Mhh, that’s right. You’re doing so good f’me” you answer, eyes fixed on the back of Jake’s neck, which is completely flushed red. “I bet you want to touch that cock real bad, don’t you?”
You hear your colleague take a sharp intake of air and his fingers almost slip off the cables he’s working on. He’s pulled taunt like an elastic, nervous and fidgety, and you just want to mess with him all day long if that’s how his reactions escalate.
“Yes yes, please,” the man whines on the phone, fabric rustling as he most likely moves on his bed, restless. “Please, I’d do anything.”
“Aw, you’d do anything?” you taunt, voice progressively getting lower, “what if I say you can’t touch yourself today, would you do that?”
Jake’s breath audibly hitches and he drops his head closer to the wall, trying not to loose it. You can tell he’s a weak weak man in this moment, but he’s genuinely trying to make it seem like he’s fine. He messes with the buttons a couple of times before quickly standing up, dusting off his jeans once again. When he raises a thumb in question, he still doesn’t quite meet your gaze. You hum in response, noticing that the static on the phone has finally disappeared.
You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ and smile at him but he doesn’t reply, just blushes madly and scrambles out of the pod. You don’t even hear what the man is saying on the other end, toofocused on Jake’s retreating figure.
He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him, which is why seconds after you hear Sunghoon’s voice saying, “Man, what happened to you? Don’t tell me you—…oh you horny motherfucker…”
A couple weeks go by, during which you do nothing but have fictional sex with strangers over the phone and hang out with your colleagues like you’re still in high school.
Nothing about it is professionally really, just a bunch of touch deprived idiots cracking jokes in between calls because it saves you from going insane over the fact none of you are getting laid.
You tell your friend everything when you’re outside of work, and she listens with a slightly incredulous look. She’s never heard of such an—and, I quote—“perfect job.”
She seems to think working with 7 hot men, a beautiful woman and talking about coitus all day long is the ideal job.
And while you’re grateful for getting paid doing absolutely nothing, it’s also starting to take a toll on your health. You’ve been having incessant wet dreams these past few days, to the point where you come into work pent up and frustrated, and seeing a bunch of fuckable men doesn’t help in the slightest.
The calls go smoothly with occasional little incidents such as a weird client asking for way more than he should be asking—pictures, because yes apparently he’s entitled to pictures because you work for a sex hotline—but other than that it’s all routine by now.
You find yourself spending more and more time with Heeseung, grabbing coffee before work in the morning, talking about life and office gossip. He even introduces you to photography and sneaks a couple picture of you when you’re not looking. One day Haejin even says he looks like he likes you, but you don’t think much of it, everyone’s desperate and pent up in that office after all.
You eat lunch with Sunoo a couple of times, he’s a very sweet guy, a little sassy sometimes but never mean. He lets you in on all the lore, inside jokes and stuff you’ve missed since they all started working together; he tells you about the time Riki’s ex called the hotline so he would give her another chance—after she cheated mind you—and you laugh for hours about a video of Haejin running and bumping into Jay by mistake.
You quickly become friends with them, though sometimes you question if ‘friends’ is an accurate description for your relationship. It’s not crazy really, but at times you’re left wondering if getting turned on by a so called friend really makes it a friendship.
Like that one time when everyone else had work to do, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the break room—or more specifically, on the sofa.
You recall your thighs touching and neither of you moving away even though Riki and Sunoo had vacated their spots. Sunghoon was tired when he threw his head back against the wall, extending his legs in front of him and lifting his arms up in a stretch; you remember seeing his shirt lift up to reveal a small line of hair that led straight into his pants and your thighs pressed together in a matter of miliseconds.
Averting your gaze you noticed his protruding adam’s apple, the shape of it so beautiful you had to completely look away. But then you felt his eyes burning into the side of your face, you had to look out of curiosity.
Sunghoon was gazing at you with a lopsided smile, his eyes hooded. It almost took the breath out of your lungs—blame it on the deprivation—but you held his gaze, a challenging glint in your orbs.
“You have nice eyes.” he said, the fatigue almost making him sound high.
The corner of your mouth lifted in a small smile of your own, “Why are you saying that?”
“I don’t know, you’re pretty. Is that a weird thing to say?” Sunghoon replied, deliberately lifting his arms higher before dropping them to his lap.
“My eyes and now me in general?” you teased.
“Come on, you know you’re pretty. Everyone’s been saying it.” he chuckled, eyes dropping to your lips for a second.l before going back to your eyes.
“No one’s been saying that.“
“Well yeah, they didn’t say it to your face. But trust me they did. Especially Jake, he’s been all weird lately.” Sunghoon affirmed.
You swore the tension was going to kill you right then and there, the way he was looking at you was making you feel like you were bare in front of his eyes. You didn’t even know him all that well, you’d talked to him a lot over lunch but it was superficial, nothing too intimate. Now he was looking at you for the very first time like he wanted to devour you. How weird.
“Well that’s sweet, thank you.” you smiled, your eyes unable to leave his. And while the knowledge that Park Sunghoon thought you were pretty didn’t really change anything, his gaze said a couple hundred things in only a few minutes.
Lord have mercy for you were close to sinning.
“And he went like ‘tell me who’s pussy this is’, erm bitch not yours??” Haejin takes a deep imitating voice.
She’s perched on the arm of the sofa, making big movements with her arms as she narrates her last call and everyone listens. You’re crammed between Heeseung and Jungwon, Jake falling asleep on the beanbag while Riki sits on the floor in front of the couch.
“The audacity to say that to a sex line operator.” Sunoo comments. He looks almost peaceful if you didnt look closely and noticed his leg bouncing and his jaw slightly clenched.
The thing is, you’ve kind of had suspicions that the two of them—Sunoo and Haejin—were somehow involved together. Maybe it’s the way they often eat alone together, or how they’re extremely touchy with each other, constantly brushing their hands together and sneaking glances when the think no one’s looking. You’re not falling for it though, you can tell the difference between friends and people who have fucked.
The sneaky bastards.
“I know it’s just dirty talk but I wanted to laugh so bad,” Haejin continues.
“You’re so strong cause I would’ve been laughing already.” you snort.
Heeseung bumps your arm playfully, “You would’ve been laughing cause you don’t usually like it, there’s a difference.”
You raise an eyebrow looking over at him, “who says I don’t like it?”
There’s a silence in the room and you almost think you said something out of line, but then again what’s ‘out of line’ in here?
Heeseung huffs a laugh, “I thought you weren’t into that shit?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m against it.” you answer. “I like a good surprise.”
His eyes trail down your face to your lips and his tongue darts out to lick his. He’s being so obvious yet it’s so enthralling you want to melt into the couch.
The moment is cut short when Haejin clears her throat and waves a hand between both your faces, breaking the spell. “Hello? Get a room please.”
Sunghoon groans, “Whole room horny.”
Heeseung smiles, throwing his head back on the back of the couch while the whole room sounds like a bunch of desperate teenagers. It’s almost time to go back to work but everyone’s dreading the prospect.
Riki brings in his 2 cents, “I say we should go to the club and all get laid this weekend.”
“100% agreed,” Jake says, voice muffled by the beanbag he’s currently lying face down on. “I can’t go on like this.”
No one has time to give their opinion because the door to Jay’s office opens and he comes out holding a stack of papers, a pair of serious glasses perched on his nose.
“I don’t know if you guys remember this conversation we had a couple weeks back? Yn you weren’t there yet so I’m just gonna brief you in on this idea.” he starts, “We talked about implementing duo calls to our list, so you guys would be paired up on calls depending on the requests. I received a couple requests for Y/n and Riki and also Sunoo and Haejin this afternoon, how does that sound to you guys?”
You look around and find Riki’s eyes already on you, he seems to be just as surprised as you are. Since the other day, there’s been a slightly tense atmosphere between the two of you, like you’ve walked in on an intimate moment even though it was professional.
You can still hear his voice and it sends shivers down your spine whenever you’re catapulted back to that moment. Now to know the boss wants you to both participate while sitting next to each other in those narrow cabins is somethjng else. Sure, you’ve done it in front of Jake but it was just to mess with him, now you have to be serious and somehow collaborate in your dirty talk, if that makes sense.
“But like, how would that work? What would need to do?” Haejin asks, cocking her head.
Jay holds out a peace of paper, proud. “That’s why I printed these out, I’m gonna need you to go somewhere together in pairs. I gave you each a specific scenario and I want you to rehearse okay? These people are willing to pay a good price for this, so i don’t want it to be rushed.”
“Customer is male, he likes the idea of cuckholding but wants to be involved too. What can you do to make it sound authentic while also interacting with him?” Riki reads.
He’s sitting across from you in his booth, legs spread as he lounges on his armchair. You agreed to rehearse with the curtains drawn for maximum privacy because you both know how curious the rest of the staff can be, but the con is that now the cabin feels so much smaller and Riki’s playing right into it.
He’s got bedroom eyes, always looking at you like he’s trying to say something with them and he plays with the knowledge that he can get you flustered easily.
“First of all, you’re gonna have to come closer to me since we only have one phone. Then we should give him a lil show, talk to each other, imply we’re doing actual things to each other etcetera.” Riki says, folding the sheet in half, “Can you fake moans?”
You almost snort, “For 300 dollars yes I can.”
Three hundred is the price the man is offering to pay to hear you both. You’d almost be flattered…in another world.
“We don’t wanna risk it though, let me hear you.” Riki insists.
You shake your head immediately, “I’m not gonna just moan out of the blue. Trust me I got this, I’m gonna do good.”
Riki’s smirk widens, his gaze darkening, “Oh I know you’re gonna do good y/n.”
You’re tempted to look away, his gaze too heavy on you, but his words are what do it. You’re a whole different person around him and he seems to notice, seems to find it amusing, really. You look down at your shoes, tapping them on the floor distractedly.
“Come here, let’s rehearse before he calls” he cuts through your silence, beckoning you with his finger. It’s with hesitant legs that you stand up, not really knowing where to go, and stand awkwardly next to his armchair. “Just come sit here, we can’t be too far apart or he’ll notice.”
You zero in on his pointer finger tapping his thigh and your eyes widen a little bit. That was never in the job description—though you should’ve expected it with how comfortable everyone is. You bury your embarrassment somewhere your brain can’t find and you lower yourself to sit on Riki’s lap.
“That’s it mama, sit down.” he encourages in a low voice. His hand comes up to your hip, touch light and respectful in order to steady you.
“Mama?” you chuckle nervously, back pressed against his chest, amused by the nickname.
“I’m rehearsing aren’t I?” Riki says against the back of your neck, his breath fanning on your sensitive skin. “Come on, dont be shy, gimme a moan. You have to make him believe it.”
You shake your head, hair brushing his shoulder, “It’s gonna sound awful.”
But Riki doesn’t seem to care. You can feel him getting closer by his breathing against your neck until you’re sure his lips are merely inches away from your skin. “No it’s not, you can do it.”
You huff a laugh but it comes out oddly weak as your head lolls involuntarily. Every part of your body is stimulated by only the feeling of his breath, how pathetic does that sound? You’re so deprived that the thought of his lips being so close brings you to utter weakness.
“I cant just moan like that, what if I sound off?” you say, breathless.
Riki doesn’t reply, instead you feel his lips brush your nape and your eyes flutter shut as you fight to stay focused. He trails a path down to your shoulder, pressing his lips over the fabric of your top until he finds a bare strip of skin. Simultaneously, his hands lightly squeeze your sides, and when you shift on his lap he squeezes harder. Your breath hitches and he seems to hear it because his fingertips travel to your ribs before settling on your stomach. Riki traces circles on the part that’s not covered by your top, his lips playing with neckline of it.
The moment he leaves lazy open mouthed kisses all the way to your jaw from behind, you gasp, clutching the hem of your skirt with shaky fingers.
“There you go. Sound so pretty. Is that all it takes?” Riki teases, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I knew you could do it, I’m just gonna have to keep you right here all through it.”
You feel his tongue dart out to taste the skin where jaw meets neck and you instinctively brace yourself with hands on his thighs, to which he reacts to with a low hum. You don’t even know what this is, what you’re doing, but it feels too good to stop. It’s like being denied water for months and finally getting to drink. Except Riki’s like Mountain Valley Spring Water.
He squeezes your hips, fingers venturing into the skin of your exposed thighs. “You can do better can’t you?” he rasps against your neck.
You’re left lightheaded and unable to reply so he only makes it worse. Riki squeezes, traces patterns all the way to your inner thighs and stops right there. That’s when you nod, needing his touch like air. You can’t bear to feel him stop.
“Good girl, show me then.” he praises, teeth grazing your skin.
The next thing you know, Riki spreads your legs on his lap and his hands settle on your inner thighs. He’s touching one of your most sensitive spots and you just cant control the moan that comes out of your mouth.
It’s a mix of a pant and a moan, low and soft, and Riki seems to react physically to it. His hands squeeze the fat of your inner thighs and wander higher, right where your skirt bunches up.
“What if I just slip those panties to the side,” he emphasizes by hooking his finger to the hem of your panties, never actually touching you. “and have you sit on my cock all through the call. Would that make you moan alright?”
Your breath goes wild as you throw your head back shamelessly, you’re pretty sure he’s managed to get your panties soaked with only a few PG 16 touches. “You’re crazy,” you whisper shakily.
“Am I? The door’s closed and we’re supposed to put on a show for him anyway.” Riki chuckles lowly. “If you don’t want to it’s alright mama, I won’t push.”
You shake your head and nod simultaneously, completely out of it. You don’t even know what you want except that you need to feel something.
You could cry if you’re left on the edge once again after enduring it for weeks.
“That a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, pretty?” the bastard laughs again, amused by your state of evident arousal. He lifts the hem of your panties and snaps them back into place, his other hand stroking the skin of your hip.
“Yes, yes.” you gasp, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
Riki hums, but he doesn’t rush to take them off, instead he cups your cunt through the fabric and presses his palm against your clit. He presses in pulsing motions, until your legs are closing around his hand and he has you boneless on his lap.
That’s when you feel his bulge pressing against your ass, thick and rock hard, and everytime you shift in pleasure, it twitches through his jeans.
“You’re soaking right through the fabric, pretty.” he whispers against your ear, fingers toying with the wet patch in the front of your panties. “Gonna take these off now, that okay with you?”
You nod instantly, spreading your legs for him to access. The second you do, he tugs your panties to the side, and the air hits your sopping cunt. Your walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him, and Riki takes his sweet time, grabbing the phone in one hand and unbuckling his pants with the other. “A shame I can’t see your face like this mama, turn around f’me.”
You obey, on shaky legs you turn around and sit on him, facing him. Now you can clearly see his face, his flushed cheeks and messy hair, hooded eyes and the thick bulge in his pants. It looks like it hurts when he palms himself, buckle in hand.
“Go for it.” he rasps, bringing your fingers to his zipper.
While you unzip him, Riki strokes your cheek and tugs gently at the hair in the back of your head. When you’re done he lifts his hips a bit and tugs his jeans down to his knees along with his Calvin Kleins. His cock slaps against his lower stomach when he frees it, tip weeping precum all over his pelvis. It’s already fiercely erect, standing out proudly against his happy trail, pressing upward toward his stomach.
Before you can do anything, the phone rings in his left hand and he sighs shakily. “Come here then, sit on it.” he rasps.
You look at him through your lashes as you wrap a hand at the base of his cock and lift your hips, angling him below your pussy. You feel your thighs shaking as his tip brushes your clit, and you brace yourself on his chest, eyes closing.
The moment you sink down and take the head of his cock in, Riki groans, gripping your hip. “Such a good girl— fuck…look at you.”
He looks down at where your bodies meet, your pussy accommodating his thick length as best as you can, and he shuts his eyes, adjusting to the intense suction. When you take more of him he whispers, “Can I pick up the call now?”
You nod breathlessly and when he’s all snug and entirely inside of you, you moan. Before pressing a button and accepting the call, Riki takes one last look at his cock stretching you open.
“Hello, this is Riki and Y/n for Hotline 1OO9, how’s your day?” he says with a steady voice, except or when you listen closely to his messy breathing.
Riki presses the speaker button and holds the phone between you both. How are you even supposed to come up with words when he’s stretching you like that? You can only clench around him until you feel every ridge and every vein like they’re memorized.
“My day’s good, thank you for picking up.” the guy on the other end says, his voice a little bit shy.
Your head falls forward on Riki’s shoulder and your forehead rests there. At the sight, his cock twitches inside you and he pushes in deeper, trying to reach the deepest part of you. To that, you moan, nails digging into his arms. You want to move so bad, you wanna fuck yourself on his cock and finally reach a long awaited orgasm.
The customer must hear every little sound you make because he asks, “Are you close to each other?”
Riki chuckles, one hand grabbing your ass and kneading it, “Got her on my lap, must be why she sounds so breathless. Don’t you baby?” he kisses your jaw.
You hum, weak all over. But Riki won’t have it, he grabs your chin and puts his thumb on your lower lip, “Use your words. Can you do that for me?”
You nod, “yes, yes.” and he rewards you with a sharp slap to your ass. “Good girl,” he praises.
It’s like the man on the other end of the line fades away, you can’t even hear his voice, just Riki’s and whatever he’s doing to your pliant body. His eyes are endless pits of darkness when he looks at you, pushing his thumb past your lips, and as you suck around it obediently, your walls clench around him and your hips shift.
“Uh-huh, who said you could move?” Riki takes his thumb out of your mouth and grips your hips to stop you.
You grip his arms, your belly moving with each ragged breath you take, and Riki’s cock throbs inside. He takes both your hands and holds them together behind your back, having you there seated on his dick, pride stripped away while a stranger listens.
“Oh look at that, you’re making such a mess.” Riki hums, looking at where you’re linked, his lower abdomen covered in your slick. “She’s so wet, soaking all over me,” he tells the man.
You don’t even hear his reaction, the need to move so intense it buzzes in your ears.
“Oh baby, you wanna move so bad, don’t you?” Riki taunts, giving the smallest thrust. But it’s enough to make you crazy, thighs shaking and body rocking.
When he speaks to the other man, you shiver, “She’s a mess, shaking on my cock. You should see her, so pretty when she just takes it.”
“Fuck… please, I can’t.” you plead, looking a Riki though your lashes, desperate for more movement. He’s so deep inside of you that even the smallest thrust makes you see stars.
“You want this?” his hips buck up, tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside of you. Your gummy walls cling to him, pulsing and keeping him right there, and he groans. “So tight, course you want it, you’re practically choking my cock.”
You hear the other man’s happy sounds but you shut his voice out, focusing on Riki.
“More, please.” you beg.
“Should I give her more?” he asks the customer with a smug smirk.
“No, not yet.” the latter decides, panting.
Riki shrugs, looking at you, “You heard him baby, just stay still.”
You’re not even sure you can take it. Every slow pulse of his heartbeat travels right through the shaft and presses against the softest parts of you, each one makes your hips twitch with the need to fuck back. You can feel how hard he is—impossibly hard—yet he holds himself completely still, breath controlled, hands locked on your wrists to stop you from grinding. Because Riki is so still, you can feel everytime he leaks inside of you, his precum warm and sticking to your walls.
“Mmh, that’s good. You’re doing so good.” Riki praises, squeezing your wrists, his cock pulses and his hip twitch just a tiny bit, making him just as disobedient as you were. “Fuck, she feels so tight ‘round me.”
Something starts building in the pit of your stomach, you don’t even know why or how, but it just does. Your thighs quiver and your forehead drops to his shoulder once again, your mouth parted in a silent moan. But Riki doesn’t let you, he cups your face and forces you to look at him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“Nuh-huh, eyes on me.” he coos, stroking your flushed cheek while one hand still secures your wrists. “You’re such a mess, that pussy’s squeezing me so tight. Look at you, dripping all over.”
Riki pushes your chin down and makes you look at where you’re connected, he brings his hand there and collects the slick that’s coating his pelvis, fingers shiny. “She’s soaked, I should fuck her now, don’t you think? What if I just…” he bucks his hips, tip hitting your g-spot until you moan in pleasure. “… do this a couple times and leave her there shaking?”
He seems to react to whatever the man says on the phone—which you just don’t hear because apparently you have selective hearing—and he abruptly stops. You whine in frustration, rocking just a bit on his lap to find some sort of friction, but there’s just his heavy cock stretching you out and pulsing inside you.
“Please,” you whimper, “please, I need it.”
Riki squeezes your wrists unmoving and he kisses your collarbone, “You’re gonna have it when he decides baby. I don’t make the rules.”
You clench around him, the whatever that was building in your lower stomach intensifying everytime he opens his filthy mouth, you wanna hit him, make him fuck you senseless until you don’t even remember which day it is, but you can’t do shit. If the client weren’t there you would’ve already rode his cocky ass into tomorrow.
But it gets to a point where it’s just too much, your pussy grips him times and times again, almost in a rhythm, which makes his tip brush against your spot and your eyes roll back. You don’t even have to rock your hips to feel some sort of dizzying friction, and it seems like Riki’s understood it too, the way his cock twitches and his balls draw up. He hisses when you squeeze particularly hard and his eyes squeeze shut in agony.
“She’s gonna come without me even moving, I don’t have any room she’s squeezing so tight,” Riki tells the customer, then he looks at you and speaks, “I bet you’d sound so pretty if I could just fuck you properly, wouldn’t you?”
The next second, you feel his cock throb violently and his lips meet your neck, smugness all gone, “fuck, stop squeezing or I’m gonna cum baby.”
You whimper, a useless string of ‘please, please please’ coming out of your mouth and you clasp your hands together while he still holds them.
“Stay still,” the customer says, panting. “Both of you.”
You nod even though he can’t see you, but you’re so close it hurts. You pant, walls milking Riki’s cock as he fights it himself, sucking a spot in your neck. It’s too much, you try not to, but it just comes unbidden, you clench one last time, the head of his cock against your cervix, and your back arches.
“Fuck, I can’t—” you moan, eyes shut and head thrown back. Riki instantly looks at you, mesmerized, and he thrusts the tiniest bit to chase the friction. “I can’t..”
You come apart, your hips twitching over and over as you fight not to bounce on him. The lack of movement makes your climax feel denser, heavier, like it has nowhere to go except deeper into your body. You shake through it staying still, every pulse of your orgasm squeezing down on the hard length that refuses to move, until you’re left trembling and oversensitive with him still buried inside you, unmoving, as if nothing’s happened.
“That’s it, it’s okay. Fuck… she came so hard, didn’t even do anything,” Riki groans, hips stuttering, but before the customer can say anything he leans to your ear and whispers, “get off, i’m so close pretty.”
You shake your head, and when he releases your wrists you moan in contentment, “can I make him cum?” you ask the man on the phone.
He replies with a breathy voice, “Yes go ahead,”
So you take your cue, you brace yourself on his shoulders and when you start moving your own body screams in pleasure, everything sensitive. Riki throws his head back in a groan and his cock nearly slips out with how wet you are. When only the tip remains inside of you, you drop back down on his lap.
“Oh fuck—” Riki moans, gripping your ass, hips, anything.
He watches you through hooded eyes as you fuck yourself on his cock, his orgasm closer and closer, “I’m gonna come, doll. Just—get off.”
You shake your head once again, pressing little kisses to his shoulder as you bounce on his cock, “I’m clean and I’m on birth control,”
Riki groans, as if relieved he’s not gonna have to pull out and he bucks his hips, meeting your movements. “Fuck…you’re gonna—ah shit, keep going baby.”
You follow his lead, and a couple of bounces later, Riki’s cock is throbbing and the phone, which had been sitting on the arm of the armchair, almost falls. You scramble to grab it and hold it between the two of you, because he didn’t even notice, too fucked out to care. A string of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ comes out of his mouth and his hips stutter, his fingers digging into your flesh.
His stomach tightens under you and a broken sound leaves his throat. It’s a sign Riki’s control is fraying. You feel his cock swell even thicker inside you, the head pressing hard against that spot that makes your thighs shake and his grip on you tightens.
“Fuck—don’t stop,” he manages, voice rough. “Just like that—”
Before you or he knows it, he’s cumming.
Riki’s whole body goes rigid underneath you. A raw, punched-out sound tears out of his throat as his cock starts pulsing hard inside you—sticky surges of heat flooding deep. You can feel every spurt, the way his cock kicks and throbs while he empties into you. Riki’s hands clamp down on your hips hard enough to hurt, holding you flush against him so he can keep pumping cum as deep as possible. His thighs are shaking, his stomach is clenched and you feel he’s still trying to thrust up into you even while he’s coming desperate little movements that force every drop further inside.
Riki looks wrecked. Eyes half-lidded, mouth open, chest heaving, but his hands are still gripping you, unwilling to move even just a bit.
There should be a study on how greedy a girl can be, because the second you receive a text from Sunoo a couple days later, saying ‘tomorrow night is club night’ you reply without a second thought.
You’re not exactly planning on getting laid again—not that you’ve had your fill with Riki—you’re just looking to go out and party. But, if the opportunity presents itself you won’t decline, that’s for sure. You’re not sure why, but the scenario you fall asleep with doesn’t involve any handsome stranger on the dance floor. It’s involuntary but you can’t help but think about Riki, about Jungwon in the elevator, Jake in the booth, Sunghoon and Heeseung. Even Jay—if you’re being honest—but you wouldn’t actually go there, he’s your boss.
A little imagination doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s fine.
But is it crazy to be this level of greedy and imagine stuff with 5 different men?
Whether you’re thinking about them individually or not is irrelevant, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be ashamed to indulge in your filthy thoughts.
Things have been going smooth over at Hotline 1OO9. You like that what happened with Riki hasn’t changed the atmosphere one bit, nothings awkward, you just have a nice little secret thing you two together.
You’ve never really talked about it, for you it was just part of the job, a ‘professional’ act heightened by obvious sexual frustration. You were just two ticking bombs waiting to go off, two consensual adults who took advantage of the circumstances.
It would be a lie to say it hasn’t happened again though.
Just the other day, you were walking past him in the empty break room and his fingers accidentally found your ass. He squeezed and you were a goner. You snuck in his pod and made out for god knows how long, dry humped like horny teens and you ended up on your knees sucking him off while he praised you.
You’ve found a new pleasant sense of reward in not being in control. You love it when Riki pulls your hair, calls you a good girl and slaps his dick on your tongue. It makes your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy when he says in that deep voice of his, “such a pretty girl on her knees for me like that.”
It would be a tremendous lie to say that you haven’t thought at least 20 times about the other day when in the break room, Riki sat next to you on the couch and slipped his hand on your thigh while everyone was talking.
It’s safe to say Sunoo and Jungwon noticed, then said something like, “In plain sight?” which made the others notice as well.
After all you were a group of shameless adults—the job had made you so unbothered about sex—so no one said anything about it. Sunghoon just winked exaggeratedly at Riki and Heeseung grabbed your other thigh in retaliation.
You fall asleep thinking about how it would feel to have them share you, as stupid as it sounds because you know it’s never gonna happen. You’ve read enough reverse harem books to know it sounds extremely pleasurable, you don’t have to choose and get a little taste of everything—a taste of five different worlds if you will.
When you think about it too deeply you feel like a whore so you just shake the thoughts aside and let sleep take you.
Come the next morning, you’re walking inside the office with a cookie jar and your purse. The cookie jar was your mom’s doing, she passed by a couple days ago and dropped them off, saying you should give some out to your colleagues. But because she thinks you still work at your old company—which is huge—she made 5 jars, so your kitchen counter is currently crowded with chocolate chip cookies.
You drop them on the coffee table in the break room and you immediately clock in with Jay. He’s wearing a crisp suit today, as per usual, and his hair is styled to perfection making him look like every woman’s dream.
“Good morning y/n.” he greets with a smile, “We got feedback on the website by the way. It was that guy from the call with Riki, he said you were awesome and recommended it. He even put heart emojis.”
You smile, “Morning sir, awesome news.”
Jay must notice how jolly you are because he asks, “What’s got you all smiley today?”
Pregnancy glow? Today’s lunch packed in your bag? What can you even say instead of the truth? It being that you’re a sexually pleased woman who’s gonna be even more sexually pleased tonight.
“Nothing sir, I’m always like that.” you shrug, smiling wider.
Your old boss’s email comes to your mind and you quickly shut up. Being notably not-smiley is what got you fired, so it’s best you refrain from speaking.
“When we first met you told me to fuck off and thought I was a scammer y/n, I don’t think you’re always like that.” Jay chuckles, going through paperwork like the busy man he is.
“Well yeah, but with all due respect boss, you sounded like a mix of that Squid Games recruiter guy and El professor in La Casa Del Papel.” you clutch your purse, half expecting him to get mad like your old boss would.
Instead he just chuckles, clearly agreeing. “I know, I did sound weird. But I’m glad you took the time to think about my offer and didn’t jump to conclusions. Now look at you, 20 requests a day, successful as ever.”
That you are. Now thanks to your critical thinking you can afford rent and not be worried about unemployment. And if someone has to say anything about your line of work they can go fuck off. You give Jay the brightest smile you can manage, “Thank you for not firing me because I don’t smile often sir.”
Jay laughs, a little confused but amused, “What? That’s not a reason to fire someone.”
And you’re sure if you had more money maybe you would’ve sued that damn company. There was always something a little fishy with that excuse anyways.
The day goes by fairly fast, you don’t even go out of your pod much because of how many calls you’ve been scheduled to today. Some are fine, some are weird but not a big deal because you get paid in the end.
Some guy called just to ask for sex advice, which you found particularly funny because not once did he initiate any type of conversation other than ‘how can I make my current girlfriend feel good?’ you gave him all you knew, tips and tricks and then hung up with an amused smile.
You ate lunch with your colleagues as usual, talked about inviting the boss to your little night out but opted not to because it was weird and probably unethical.
After eating you and Jungwon sat on the sofa and watched videos on his phone, your chin on his shoulder. He scrolled through his timeline and made occasional comments, looking at you from the corner of his eyes at times. When Jake came by, he sat next to Jungwon and adopted the same position you did, watching with the both of you.
But as soon as you heard the boss move in his office you straightened up and pretended to look at the wall, aware of how unprofessional it looked.
Jay came out and stopped right in the threshold, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What’s with the faces? Break’s over in 20 folks.”
Dominated by the work system, you got up exactly twenty minutes later and got to work. Riki interrupted you a couple times, just “swinging by” as he said, to squeeze that ass he seemed to love, then walked back to his own pod like he’d accomplished his mission.
But the last time he did it—curtains be damned—Heeseung was walking by and saw everything. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, just snorted and said “sharing is caring man.”
You decided not to dwell on it because he was probably joking, but—surprisingly—there were a few instances of you imagining what ‘sharing’ implied.
The rest of the afternoon went by fast, and the next thing you knew you were clocking out, saying your farewells to no one but Park Jongseong who, unfortunately, wasn’t invited.
Your ass looks fabulous in your dress and everyone seems to think so too.
The way Jake looks at it says a lot actually, it’s like he’s seen a ghost, his eyes avert and his cheeks get red immediately like he’s judging himself for the thoughts he’s having.
Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you look at Jake and wonder how he does the job he does.
If you were to see him in the subway you’d think he works in engineering or teaches astronomy and only has sex once in a blue moon. But apparently the man does get laid, he’s just not cocky with it.
Riki, though, is plenty cocky. Once he gets a good look at your ass he gives it a squeeze, not really caring to be sneaky.
Haejin notices and points at him, “I knew you guys fucked.”
Jungwon and Heeseung snort. You’re waiting in line at the club entrance and you’re all pressed together along the wall, a thick cigarette smoke fog hovering over the crowd. Someone’s smoking cigarettes after cigarettes and it’s making your nose itchy.
“I swear to God if you’re greedy and wanna steal my hookup tonight I’ll make sure you get fired Rik.” Sunghoon points at him accusing.
One of his Riki’s hands goes to your lower back and he answers, “I’m good man, the club is all yours.”
It wouldn’t be Riki if his hand didn’t slip down to your ass for the nth time and squeezed. He then proceeds to lean down to your ear and whisper, “I’m hoping I get to take you home tonight.”
You snort, swatting his hand away playfully, “What if I want a change?”
Riki settles his hand on your hip this time as the line progresses, “Well I can share. How’s that for a change?” he smiles.
“You’re willing to share with a complete stranger?” Jungwon raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.
“I don’t know, any of you interested?” he looks around, expecting them to be grossed out.
When everyone raises their hand but Sunoo, you look surprised, and with filthy contempt, your mind files it as a very important information.
The latter looks at Haejin and raises an eyebrow, attempting to be secretive. As soon as he does that she drops her hand to the side and you pretend you didn’t see what happened.
“Well guess that settles it. Fill out forms and email them I guess.” Riki rolls his eyes, prentending to be jealous.
Sometime after, the bouncer finally lets you all in. You walk to the bar in a tight group and order a couple drinks to start the night. You don’t drink all that much so you get a single cocktail and decides it’ll be the last.
You all walk through the crowd, the speakers blaring ‘Kiss me thru the phone’, bodies are all pressed together, slick with sweat and you spot a few people making out savagely already.
Riki and Heeseung stay behind you all the time, like a fridge protecting its snack, and you notice Haejin’s pressed tightly to Sunoo’s chest. It’s not even a surprise when the slick bastard glares at a guy he’s caught looking at her.
Jungwon notices and looks back at you, amused, but neither of your say anything.
Once you’re deep inside the jungle of bodies you all stop. Sunghoon’s already looking around like he’s searching a prey and Jake’s eyeing the ceiling like he wants to go home.
So what better than to mess with him? You grab his arm and start dancing with him, trying to lighten him up a bit with a couple back and forth rocks to the beat of the music. He relaxes after a little bit and starts easing into it, hands coming up naturally to your hips as he smiles.
By the time the third song comes around, everyone’s having fun. Sunoo’s pressed up against Haejin, Sunghoon’s already found a girl to chat up and you’re still with Jake, only this time there’s Riki behind you and Jungwon on the side sipping on his drink. You’re boxed by them, grinding your ass shamelessly on Riki while Jungwon watches with a playful glint in his dark eyes and Jake quite literally endures, cheeks as red as wine. You make sure he’s not uncomfortable by asking him a couple times in his ear, to which he replies by getting even more flustered by your proximity.
But Heeseung’s nursing a drink—not at all unhappy—he’s wearing a dopey grin like he’s having the time of his life even though he’s not doing anything. You turn around to look, and reach for his arm, dragging him closer so he doesn’t feel left out. He holds onto Jungwon and starts dancing, moving his body to the bass boosted music. It would be a lie to say he’s not a bit drunk, his cheeks are flushed and he’s grinning like an idiot—even more than Jake usually is—he holds onto Won for dear life and nearly spills jis drink when someone passes by.
“Heeseung man we just got here like an hour ago.” Riki snickers, amused. “Get your shit together or you’re not gonna get laid tonight.”
He just beams, taking another sip and moving his hips, “Nopeeee, don’t care.”
Riki gets closer to you, pressing his front to your ass, indirectly pushing you closer to Jake and Jungwon in the process. It feels nice to be between all of them, especially the way Jake grips your hips and looks at you like you’ve hung the moon.
But soon after, Heeseung starts feeling dizzy and says he wants to grab some fresh air, and Won volunteers to go with him so he doesn’t stay alone. They slip out of sight and you’re left sandwiched between Jake and Riki’s bodies, the latter hardening almost imperceptibly against your ass.
It’s not even a surprise, you’ve noticed how high his stamina is, it’s like he’s always up for it, always ready to go. Jake’s a little further away, so you can’t exactly feel him, but it wouldn’t be a revelation if you were to find out he’s hard—it seems to be his default reaction, he even gets hard when he sees good food apparently.
When Sunghoon comes back, he looks defeated and points at the girl he was talking to, declaring, “She was trying to get over her ex and find someone to make a sextape with.” he sighs, “tonight’s not my night.”
“There’s plenty fishes in the sea,” Riki comforts him, gripping your lower back.
Sunghoon gets closer, taking the spot Jungwon vacated, “Only one fish I want anyway.” he looks at you when he says that, then back at Riki, “Where did Heeseung and Won go?”
Jake intervenes, “They’re outside to grab some air.”
“Bro, they can’t come back inside if they go out. Are they fucking stupid?” Sunghoon scoffs, looking around and squinting towards the exit.
At the same exact moment your phone buzzes in your purse, vibrating on your sides. You slip your hand inside and grab it, it’s Jungwon.
“Yo, no one’s picking up their phone. The bouncer won’t let us come in again.” you hear him, his voice muffled with the sound of the music.
And yes, that’s the story of how you all end up on the sidewalk, sitting side by side on a line just because the dumbfucks couldn’t ask the bouncer for information before going out. Heeseung’s been apologizing profusely and you tell him it’s not his fault everytime, that it’s all good and you were tired anyway.
News flash you weren’t, you were just getting started. But can’t win em all.
It’s quickly forgotten about when Heeseung suggests you all come to his place for some drinks. Everyone accepts happily, except well….Sunoo and Haejin who look at each other and clear their throats.
But before they can say anything, the party host scrambles towards them.
“Yes you guys can just go home and fuck like rabbits. Trust me we know.” he slurs on unsteady feet.
There’s a silence before everyone snorts including Haejin and Sunoo who instinctively get closer now that the ‘secret’s’ out.
“We all knew, you guys are obvious as fuck.” Sunghoon states, smiling widely.
You part your ways and head to Heeseung’s small apartment conveniently located a couple blocks away from the nightclub. The whole way Riki and Jungwon have to hold him so he doesn’t trip although he says he’s not that drunk. Once you’re in front of his building he struggles to get his keys out and Jake has to dig in his back pocket to find them. “Stop touching my ass man.” Heeseung giggles, swatting his hand away when he gets the keys out.
When he manages to open the door, Heeseung stumbles inside and calls the elevator. You look around at the group of men encircling you and feel like the world’s biggest slut, anyone who would see this would think you’re a total whore and whatever other prejudiced words they can come up with.
But in truth, you don’t really care all that much, you like being slutty at times, it’s fun and doesn’t harm the environment anyway.
When the doors open to the second floor, Jake already prepares the keys to open Heeseung’s door. He waits for him to sign which one is his and quickly works it open.
“I’m sorry for the mess,” Heeseung mumbles as he kicks off his shoes in the entryway. The apartment is spotless so you don’t even know what mess he’s talking about.
Probably the mess in your panties—
“Yeah you’re drunk man, go to sleep,” Riki chuckles, pushing him towards the hallway like he knows the house.
“I’m not even tired, gimme some water, I’ll just shower and sober up,” the man groans like a child, holding onto the wall.
You grab the first bottle water of bottle you see on the kitchen counter and uncap it, handing it to him. When you realize he’s not even gonna be able to drink it, you push it to his mouth, one hand cupped under his chin and you tilt the bottle. Heeseung’s heavy eyes are on you while he drinks. “So pretty,” he mumbles when he’s done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yeah, get line,” Jungwon pushes him playfully.
Riki escorts him to bed, but not before Heeseung makes a point of kissing your cheek and exclusively telling you goodnight. You pat his hair and watch him get carried away to his bedroom with a fond smile.
“Alright let’s see where he keeps his booze,” Sunghoon starts looking through his friend’s drawers, in the kitchen too. When he finally finds his stash of alcohol he holds a bottle of vodka to his chest. “This motherfucker only has cheap stuff.”
“That’ll do,” Riki snatches the bottle from him when he comes back, one hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer.
Once seated on the couch, you all get comfortable, Sunghoon props his socked feet on the coffee table ontop of Hee’s electricity bills and yawns as he stretches. Jake finds the fluffy armchair in the middle of the living room while you sit between Jungwon and Riki and uncap the vodka bottle, pouring it in little plastic cups they’ve found in the kitchen. You hand them to the four boys, not in the mood to drink yourself. Riki drops a kiss yo your cheek as a thank you, obviously mocking Heeseung earlier.
“It’s a fail for everyone except those bastards Haejin and Sunoo,” Sunghoon sighs into his cup, emptying it in seconds.
His arms flex as he puts it on the coffee table and you find yourself looking at his biceps, or him in general. The way his body is sculpted, the shape of his broad shoulders, everything looks good—it’s something he has in common with the three other boys, they’re all equally handsome everywhere.
“Speak for yourself,” Riki mutters, eyes bored on the side of your face, one hand on your thigh. When you turn to look at him he smirks, emptying his cup in one gulp.
“Yeah just go ahead and fuck right then and there you bastards,” Sunghoon groans, frustrated.
“You’re jealous as fuck Hoon,” the boy holding your thigh teases, shooting him a playful look. “Should‘ve gone with the sextape girl.”
“I’d rather choke, I’lll just live vicariously through you man, it’s okay.” he cringes at the thought, dusting off his perfectly clean t shirt.
There’s a silence before you decide to be extremely unhinged. You turn to look at Sunghoon through your lashes and you joke, “Don’t you want the real thing?”
There’s a long moment. You think you’ve said something dumb when you see Sunghoon’s mouth open and close, but when he presses his palms to his face and groans you melt in your seat. “Don’t say that y/n.” he breathes out, a little desperate in all honesty.
“What’s wrong with what she said?” Riki teases, a smug smile on his face as he squeezes your thigh.
Jake looks at you from the armchair, shifting in his seat, he looks like he’s heard the craziest thing ever, his boba eyes widening by the second. Jungwon’s also gazing thoughtfully at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. Although you originally were, their reaction only fuels the inner monologue you’ve been having these days, until you’re not entirely sure you’re fooling around anymore.
“Did you even hear her man??” Sunghoon replies, man spreading on the couch like he owns it. “Y/n you can’t be saying that. It’s not even funny.”
“I wasn’t even joking though,” you shrug, looking at him innocently, although the smirk on your mouth tells a whole different story.
Riki cups your chin and tilts your head towards him, eyes already zeroing in on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own, plump lips parting and lower one going between his teeth.
“Don’t even bother, I think he doesn’t want to,” he teases, giving Sunghoon a taunting look before focusing back on you. “I’ll take care of you baby, how’s that sound?”
You swear you hear Jake’s hitch from his spot but before you can turn your head to verify, Riki wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you closer until his lips are merely inches away from yours. The bastard looks you right in the eye and gives you that haunting playful smirk before he dives in. His lips melt into yours and without giving it much thought he parts them, tongue slipping in your mouth in a filthy kiss. Riki’s fingers tighten around your neck, making it a point to make you moan for him, so his friends can only marvel at the sight. You gasp into the kiss, tongue dancing with his, all the while his other hand snakes down to your hips and tugs you closer, almost on his lap.
You couldn’t even hear the rest of the world if you wanted, your ears ringing with how bad you want this. It feels exhilarating to know you’re being watched, three pairs of eyes burning into your skin from all sides of the room. It only seems to pump Riki meaner, his hand squeezing your throat until you’re dizzy and moaning into the kiss, it’s the perfect amount of pressure, not too much just enough to render you a mess.
“Sound so fucking pretty,” Riki rasps as he lets go of your lips and finds a spot on your neck to suck on.
Your eyes open and you find all three men staring right at you, as expected. Jake’s frozen, his mouth slightly ajar and his hands gripping the leather of the armchair. Sunghoon doesn’t have his hands on his face anymore, he’s got them gripping his thighs, jaw clenched. And Jungwon looks wrecked, the paper cup crumpled in his hand as he fights the urge to reach and join.
When Riki sucks a dark spot in your neck, your lips part and the moan you let out makes all three boys tense in their seats. “That’s right baby, let them hear.” you feel Riki’s smirk against your skin.
“You’re not playing fair man,” Jungwon groans, captivated by the sound of your pleasure.
Riki let’s go of your skin with a wet pop, “What do you think baby, am I being fair?”
You smile dizzily, “I did tell Sunghoon he could have the real thing and he didn’t even answer, so I guess you’re being fair.”
The latter instantly protests, “I thought you were joking y/n, I didn’t think you—”
You cut him by getting up on wobbly feet and making it in front of him, before he even knows what’s happening you’re climbing on his lap. “This okay?” you whisper in his ear as you fully settle, legs bracketing his.
When his arms instantly wrap around you, the answer is made clear. Sunghoon nods, looking at you like a divinity, “Could’ve already been doing this a long time ago.” he states, pulling closer until youre snug right against his core.
“You should’ve said something then,” you smile against his jaw then nip at his earlobe until he shivers. You feel the other men’s eyes on your body as you start moving in Sunghoon’s lap, grinding down on the front of his pants. “Should’ve kissed me right on the break room couch that other day.”
Sunghoon lets out a breathy laugh, gripping your hips as he fights for his composure, he’s about to say something but Jungwon beats him to it, “You had a chance and fucked it up, how stupid can you be.”
With his foot, Sunghoon kicks the other man’s leg, trying to focus solely on your beautiful face, “As far as I know you didn’t make a move either.”
“He’s right, you should have too,” you lean towards Jungwon, still on his friend’s lap, and you catch his expecting lips in a kiss.
He tastes like vodka when his tongue slips into your mouth. He’s a messy kisser, all tongue and teeth, biting your lip occasionally. You feel Sunghoon’s cock throb in his pants and moan into Jungwon’s mouth at the feeling.
“Jake man, come closer. Come watch her.” Riki tells him, beckoning with a curled finger.
You hear him get up before he takes the spot you vacated earlier, eyes a physical weight on your body. Sunghoon bucks his hips to remind you of whose lap you’re on, his hands come down to your ass, wanting you so much closer than humanly possible and your reply by rocking your hips on him, indulging in the friction. It feels so good, Jungwon’s tongue caressing yours, Sunghoon’s thick cock practically begging to be taken out and the other boys looking like they don’t wanna miss a single second of it.
When you break the kiss, your lips are connected to his by a string of saliva that breaks when you look at Jake, beckoning him closer. He stands up ever so obediently and walks over to you. From where you sit you have to look up at him, the sight only making the problem in his pants harder, you trace a path up his thighs and cups him through his pants. “Gimme kiss,” you practically purr.
Jake nearly folds like trash origami, his hips buck to meet your hand and when you finally kiss him he melts. You go slower with him, tongue grazing his in a tantalizing way, you give his clothed cock a squeeze and he whimpers in your mouth, needy as ever. When you break the kiss he chases your lips, cheeks a deep red and lips shiny.
“Sit down and watch.” you order, not even doubting he’ll do as he’s told.
When Jake sinks down to the floor, you look at the man whose lap you’re sitting on and grin, wiggling on his aching dick. Sunghoon’s eyes follow your wandering hands as you cup him through his pants and tug at the zipper, when asked he lifts up his hips and lets you take his cock out. His is incredibly thick, smaller than Riki’s but impossibly thick you’re sure your fingers wouldn’t fully touch if wrapped around it. To test that theory you put you grab him and it’s with no surprise that you note your fingers don’t touch around the base.
“Can’t even wrap my hand around it Hoonie,” you say in a small voice, giving him a light stroke that makes his hips jolt. You take his own hand in yours and bring it to his leaking cock. “Show me how you do it.”
To your side, Riki and Jungwon are breathing harder, the latter palming the bulge in his jeans, both their eyes stuck on you like you’re some sort of succubus. But when Sunghoon’s hand wraps around his cock, it’s Jake who nearly whimpers. You look over to him and cup his chin, pulling him closer so he can get a better view. “You wanna see so bad baby?”
Jake nods vehemently and swallows hardly, “You look so pretty like that,”
You lean back and drop a kiss to his lips, licking them while you get back to Sunghoon. He’s steadily pumping himself now, fingers on his balls while he thrusts in the crease between his thumb and pointer finger. “Fuck,” he groans, “put your hand on me.”
You cover his own hand with yours, tightening his grip on his cock and move it up and down, guiding the friction. You collect the precum with your palm and use it as lubricant for your strokes. Sunghoon focuses on the base while you pump the tip, your hands slick and meeting each time you glide. It’s filthy—even more so when you spit on his tip and his cock twitches, his head throwing back in utter agony. You use your saliva and tighten your grip, thumb rubbing his head while the other works with his own. Riki’s unbuckled his jeans by now, palming himself while patiently waiting for his turn.
“F-fuck,” Sunghoon pants, a slave to his pleasure now. “Jungwon come here, use her mouth”
His friend gets up as quickly as possible and travels to the side of the couch where he stands, gaze bored on your hand working. “Cmere baby, open up,” he encourages as his thumb settles on your lower lip, pushing past it.
You lick around his thumb, suckling as your hand goes faster on Sunghoon’s cock. Jungwon hums in admiration as his other hand quickly undoes his jeans and lets them drop to his knees. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth now, okay?” he taunts, boxers tugged down as well.
Jungwon’s cock is long, a thin patch of hair leading from his lower stomach to it, and it stands proudly, leaking so much that’s it’s made a stain on his boxers. When you nod, he doesn’t seem to think it’s enough and shakes his head disapprovingly.
“What did I teach you baby?” Riki intervenes, delivering a light slap to your ass. “You gotta use your words.”
You nod again, a soft ‘yes’ coming out of your parted lips. Sunghoon practically thrusts into his and your hand, making a mess of precum on his stomach. But before you can even wipe it off, Jungwon presses his cock against your lips, rubbing his own precum all over them until they look plump and like you’ve put gloss on. The moment he pushes his dick past your lips, you swear you feel Sunghoon’s heartbeat in his cock. Airs gone rancid by now, all three of them watching Jungwon’s length fit perfectly inside your mouth, his breathing hacking out wet.
“Mmh, fuck… look at you baby, look at those pretty lips,” he groans, cupping your face almost tenderly if it wasn’t for the other hand tangling in your hair and pulling slightly.
Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids and you suck him in, hollowing out your cheeks before letting him go with a pop and resuming with messy licks. You practically makeout with his tip, suckling on it, licking each and every side until his thighs tense, you don’t stop until the room fills with filthy sounds. Your fingers keep working Sunghoon’s dick all the while, tangling with his own in a wet mess under Riki’s approving gaze.
“Look at you…” he hums, sneaking behind you to drop a kiss on your bare shoulder. His tongue traces a path up to your neck and sucks a dark spot, causing you to moan around Jungwon’s tip. “You’re so good at this, look at Sunghoon baby, he’s gone already.”
Your eyes find him below you, his head is thrown back, eyes wild and wanton, hand working through his own pleasure like he’s drunk on it. Jungwon’s hips shift until he’s practically fully sheathed in your mouth, regaining your attention. He tugs at your hair—noticing how eager you get when he does it—and one of his hands goes to your ass so he can lift up the hem of your dress. He smirks at Jake who—if he’s being honest—feels terribly lonely on the floor, and delivers a sharp smack to your bare ass.
Jake watches the flesh move with the echo of Jungwon’s slap and fights to not burry his face in between your sweet thighs. You swallow around the man’s cock, a ring of saliva forming and dripping down your chin, making a proper mess of your collarbone in the process, Riki resumes his his taunting kisses on your neck and one hand comes to squeeze that ass he loves so much.
He hooks a finger in your thong, tugs at it only to watch it snap back in place, “Such a pretty ass, you’re just pretty all over aren’t you?”
Riki’s mouth travels up to your jaw and cheek, and when he gets close enough, he licks around your mouth to clean the mess of saliva you’ve made. Jungwon actually freezes for a second, seeing how close he is to his dick, but the low groan he emits says a lot about how he feels.
“Messy girl,” the youngest teases, licking his own lips while stroking your ass cheek. You’re so lost in pleasure you start rocking your hips against Sunghoon’s thighs, which he notices by the way his breathing gets shallower and his mouth hangs open.
Your mouth leaves Won with a pop and you look back at Jake, miserably sitting on the floor, gazing up at you like admiring a painting. “You can touch me baby, go ahead.” you tell him, lips curling into a cheeky smile.
It doesn’t take more than a millisecond for his hands to be on your ass along with Riki’s. Jake kisses his way up your spine, sending shivers all over you body, he traces every ridge of every bone and makes it a point to let you know you are beautiful and wanted. Your head lolls, fingers loosing cadence on Sunghoon’s cock—but fear not, he wraps his own around yours and guides them up and down the slick length with a low groan.
“Can I taste you, please?” Jake looks up at you with those boba eyes and those thick lashes, “Let me make you feel good.”
You suddenly get up off of Sunghoon’s lap, leaving him breathless, cock twitching and eyebrows furrowed, Jungwon’s stroking himself lazily, watching your every move. When you sink down on the floor and push Jake to a lying position, Riki hums approvingly.
You straddle his lap, your lips find his chest and place sparse tender kisses all the way to his pale neck, you only give him a taste of your mouth before shifting. The man waits with wide eyes that get even wider the second your thighs bracket his face, but when you’re done hovering and sit down, Jake whimpers. You settle your your full weight down onto his mouth, his nose is buried against your clit, his lips sealed around you, and every time he exhales you feel the warm rush of his breath against your soaked cunt.
You’re dripping onto his tongue, you feel it all over, your thong when Jake pulls it aside and it hits your skin. You look up at the others, quite proud of the hold you seem to have on them, and you beckon Riki to come closer. He doesn’t even wait, he knows exactly what’s his to take and so in a swift movement, his pants are discarded on the floor along with his calvin kleins.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes out, one hand twisting your hair in a loose ponytail. His cock throbs at the sight of you on your knees and just as he’s about to press it to your lips, you lift a finger.
It’s a shameless move, and you’re not sure how you’re going to manage but you call Sunghoon over. He rises from the sofa like he’s been waiting for the invitation, cock still flushed and shiny from your earlier attention, the head glistening as he steps closer. Riki’s grip in your hair tightens just enough to tilt your face up, and the second Sunghoon is within reach you open your mouth for him.
He slides in slow, letting you feel every thick inch while Jake’s tongue works greedily beneath you. It’s so tantalizingly good that every part of you is set aflame, the heavy length of Sunghoon stretching your lips while Jake’s mouth seals tighter around your cunt, nose pressed firm against your clit. You moan around the cock in your mouth and the vibration makes Sunghoon’s hips stutter.
“Fuck,” he breathes, one hand coming to rest at the back of your head. “Look at you go…”
Riki watches with pleased eyes, still stroking himself slowly beside you. Jungwon has moved closer too, standing just off to the side, fist wrapped loosely around his cock as he drinks in the sight of you—mouth full, ass still marked faintly from earlier. You love it, you’ve never felt so full—albeit technically totally empty.
Jake’s hands come up to grip your hips, pulling you down harder onto his tongue and he licks into you like he’s starving for it in messy strokes that make your thighs tremble. Every time you rock forward to take Sunghoon deeper, you grind down onto Jake’s face, smearing yourself across his mouth and chin. He loves it though, you can see his hips buck in the air, waiting for some kind of friction.
You pull off Sunghoon’s cock just long enough to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to the head. “Don’t just stand there,” you tell Jungwon, voice rough. “Come here.”
Needless to say he steps in immediately. You wrap your free hand around him, stroking in time with the way you sink your mouth back down onto Sunghoon and Riki’s fingers stay twisted in your hair, guiding the rhythm.
The latter leans in close to your ear, “You’re soaking him, baby. Poor Jake can barely breathe and he’s still trying to get his tongue deeper.” He nips at your earlobe. “You gonna come on his face while you’ve got Sunghoon’s cock down your throat?”
The words send a violent pulse straight between your legs. Jake moans against you like he heard them too, the sound vibrating through your cunt, and your thighs tighten around his head. Sunghoon’s breath is getting ragged above you, every time you hollow your cheeks he curses under his breath like he’s about to combust.
Jungwon’s hand covers yours on his cock, showing you the exact pace he wants, the exact twits of your hand he prefers, while his other hand reaches down to squeeze your breast through the half-open dress. You’re surrounded—mouths and hands on every side—and the only thing you can do is take it.
You roll your hips harder against Jake’s face, chasing the building pressure, and he answers by sucking your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue against it in quick strokes.
The pleasure coils tight and low in your stomach, and you’re not even sure when was the last time you’ve felt so good. You’re so close it almost hurts —thighs shaking, breath coming in sorts of short gasps around the cock in your mouth.
As for Sunghoon, he’s been hard for so long already, twitching against your tongue every time you hollow your cheeks, and you can taste how close he is. His hand tightens at the back of your head, hips starting to push forward in these little aborted thrusts like he can’t help it anymore.
Riki’s still got your hair in his fist, watching everything with that smug smirk. “Look at Sunghoon,” he murmurs against your ear, “he’s been leaking since you first touched him. Poor thing’s about to lose it.”
You moan around the cock in your mouth and the vibration makes Sunghoon’s whole body jolt. You can tell he wants to say something to Riki, prideful as always, but he’s cut short by the force of his pleasure. Jake’s hands squeeze your thighs harder, pulling you down so his nose is crushed against you, tongue fucking into your cunt like he’s trying to get every drop. The pressure on your clit is perfect and so constant that you feel the coil in your stomach snap.
Your thighs shake hard around his head as you come, grinding down onto his mouth with broken little whimpers that vibrate around Sunghoon. They all watch you with hooded eyes, mesmerized while you’re dripping onto Jake’s tongue, pulsing against his lips, and he just keeps licking through it like he doesn’t need air. The pleasure rolls through you in heavy waves, making your fingers tighten around Jungwon and your throat flutter around Sunghoon.
That’s what pushes the latter over.
“Oh fuck, y/n…” he groans, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, “I’m gonna—”
He curses under his breath, hips stuttering, and then the next you know he’s cumming hard down your throat with hot pulses that you have to swallow around because he’s buried so deep. His hand fists in your hair, holding you there while he empties into your mouth, dick throbbing heavily against your tongue. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, the way every spurt seems to drag another wrecked sound out of him.
Jake, him, is still lapping at you through the aftershocks, messy and eager as usual, while Riki strokes himself faster at the sight of Sunghoon’s hips jerking and your throat working. Jungwon’s breathing is ragged beside you, watching his friend’s face like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
When you finally pull off Sunghoon’s cock a string of saliva and cum connects your bottom lip to the head, and he looks completely gone—eyes an endless pit of darkness, mouth hanging open.
Riki laughs quietly, thumb brushing the corner of your messy mouth. “Good girl,”
But nobody had time to say anything or resume any movement because it suddenly comes to your attention that someone is standing at the door.
“Why does everyone always leave me out of things?” says a tired voice.
Heeseung has his fists clenched like a little kid getting out of bed to warn his parents he threw up, he glares at the boys but his eyes soften once he sees you still sitting on his friends face like it’s the most normal thing.
“You were drunk, man.” Riki clarifies, his cock lying untouched on his stomach.
“Couldn’t have you waited until I sobered up? Oh my god, in my own apartment bro.” the man groans, pointing to himself, “I’m sober now, i slept it off.”
“I don’t think it works like that man,” Jake says, muffled from under your cunt. You quickly get off him, wiping the cum from off your mouth. “I’m pretty sure it takes like 8 hours to sober up.”
Heeseung pulls out his phone while everyone sits back down, you put your dress back on your ass and sit on the floor, stroking Jake’s thigh. “Let’s fact check then, motherfucker. Cause I feel pretty sober right now seeing you guys leave me out like that.”
He does a quick google search, eyebrows raised like he’s sure he’s gonna make a point, and once he has the answer he says, “Hah. See?” he holds out his phone presenting a random page about alcohol and consent. “Nobody even asked me if I consented to it, you guys just did your thing without me. How sad is that.”
You snort, amused, and grab his phone to scroll down the article, your eyes quickly scanning the words. “I mean, he doesn’t seem confused, he’s not slurring, or behaving unusually.” you turn to him, “Do you want to join?”
Heeseung nods avidly, hair bouncing with the force of his agreement. But you cock your head, “Are you sure?” you ask him, “Spell my name backwards then count to 20.”
Jungwon chuckles, sitting next to Riki, and he watches with amusement as the former drunk spells your name backwards perfectly and counts to twenty.
Heeseung still looks a little wounded even after doing it without a single stumble, so you decide right then you’re going to make it up to him. You signal him with a tilt of your chin toward the couch and he sits without question, thighs spreading just enough for you to drop to your knees between them.
You lean in slow, nuzzling the soft skin of his inner thigh first, then higher, mouthing over the thick outline trapped in his pants. When you finally free him, the head is already shiny and leaking, it makes you wonder how long he’s truly wanted this. You take your time, tongue flattening against the underside in lazy strokes before you finally sink down, lips stretching around him.
Heeseung’s hand finds the back of your head almost immediately, fingers threading into your hair, not to push, just holding on like he needs the anchor. His breath keeps hitching every time you hollow your cheeks and drag up slow, the way he looks at his friends says a lot about how good this feels for him.
Jake drops onto the couch right next to him, close enough that their shoulders brush and their knees knock. But you’re so focused on the wet slide of your mouth that you almost miss the moment their faces tilt toward each other. It starts as a brush of lips, hesitant and questioning, then deeper, tongues meeting. You don’t even notice how it starts, but the next thing you know, they’re fully going at it, tongue and all.
The second they realie what they’re doing, though, they jerk apart like they’ve been burned, eyes wide, both of them flushing hard.
Jungwon’s already there, one hand on the back of each of their necks, shoving their heads together again with zero hesitation.
“Who the fuck cares if you’re boys,” he says, voice low and amused, “just kiss each other.”
You moan around Heeseung’s cock at the sight, the vibration making him twitch hard against your tongue. Jake’s cock is still untouched in his pants, a heavy line straining the fabric, but Heeseung’s hand is already there, palm rubbing over it through the material while they kiss again, messier this time, like the words unlocked something.
Heeseung doesn’t last. You feel the warning pulse, the way his thighs tense under your palms, and then he’s spilling across your tongue with a broken sound, hips stuttering. You suspect the sensations were only heightened by the feeling of Jake’s tongue and that makes your thighs squeeze together. He cradles your cheek after, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little cum has escaped, eyes soft and a little dazed as he watches you swallow.
Nishimura Riki’s been quiet long enough.
“My turn,” he announces, sitting on the floor and offering you a hand. He makes a whole show of it—turning you so everyone can see, peeling the dress up your body inch by inch like he’s unwrapping something expensive, then hooking his fingers in the thin strings of your thong and dragging it down your legs so slowly it almost hurts.
When you’re bare he pulls you into his lap, ass up and facing the others so you’re presented to the room.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, hands spreading you open for them. “So fucking pretty like this.” He spits, the warmth landing right on your cunt, then uses two fingers to smear it around, circling your clit before pushing inside slow. “Already dripping for us again. Taking it so well.”
The others are stroking themselves while they watch—Sunghoon and Jungwon on either side, Jake and Heeseung still half-tangled. It’s no surprise when you notice Heeseung’s hand now fully inside Jake’s open fly, working him slow and unashamed. Riki keeps fingering you, dirty little praises spilling out under his breath, spreading your cheeks until you have to brace on the floor, face down.
A couple minutes after he’s lifting you like a ragdoll, both hands under your arms as he makes you straddle him, he finally lines up but only then does it occur to him how irresponsible this is.
“Condom?” he asks Heeseung, snapping his fingers at him.
The bastard doesn’t even hear, too engrossed in Jake’s kisses, his hand wrapped around his cock tugging lazily. Riki throws a discarded pillow at him, and his head snaps up.
“Condom man.” he repeats.
Quickly, Heeseung finds a stash of condoms in his cabinets and throws one at his friend who diligently tears it open and puts it on. You line yourself with his length and wrapping your arms around his neck you rub your sopping cunt against his tip. “Tssk, stop moving baby, you know how I get when you tease.” Riki warns with a click of his tongue.
When he sinks in in one long thrust, Riki doesnt even give you time to adjust, he grips your hips and guides you into a steady ride.
“Fuck… that’s it, mama. You gonna ride me like you did last time in the phone booth?” he rasps.
Sunghoon’s head snaps up, “You fucked in the pods???”
Riki only chuckles smugly and bucks up hard enough to punch a moan out of you, “and she liked it, didn’t you baby?” he squeezes your cheeks together and plants a kiss on your mouth.
“Mmh, yes.” you whimper mindlessly, just enjoying yourself, eyes closed with abandon.
You feel Sunghoon and Jungwon move closer, so you do what a professional multitasker does, you take one in each hand, stroking them in time with the roll of your hips, then lean to the side to suck Sunghoon deep before switching to Jungwon, alternating until your jaw aches in the best way. Riki just keeps thrusting up, filling you perfectly, hands roaming your waist, your tits, your throat until there’s no part of you left untouched.
Jake and Heeseung are practically seconds away from fucking—the latter has Jake’s cock fully out now, stroking him while they kiss like they’re starving, both of them flushed and clearly a lily embarrassed about how far they’ve gone. You catch Jake’s eye over your shoulder and smile, voice rough from the cock previously in your mouth.
“There’s no judgment here. Go ahead. I know you want it, Jakey.”
It acts as some sort of approval for him because the next second he’s out eating Heeseung’s mouth again. You start riding Riki faster, hips snapping down harder, chasing the thick stretch of him.
But all the while, your eyes stay locked on Heeseung and Jake—watching the way their hands wrap around each other’s cocks, stroking in desperate rhythm while they keep kissing like they can’t stop. Every time their mouths meet you clench around Riki without meaning to.
He notices, ever so attentive.
Riki’s hands come up and grab your cheeks, squeezing them together so your lips pout, forcing you to look at him while he thrusts up to meet every drop of your hips.
“Look at you,” he groans, voice rough. “I can feel your cunt clench around me when they kiss. Dirty girl… does that turn you on?”
You nod desperately, a broken little sound escaping as he keeps fucking up into you. “I knew it. My dirty girl likes to watch, huh?” Riki rasps, fucking you stupid.
Jungwon’s already kneeling next to you, close enough that his breath hits your skin. He leans in and mouths at your neck, sucking soft marks while his hand works his own length in tight strokes—desperate for the release he’s been holding onto all night. His free hand finds your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple before he ducks lower and takes it into his mouth, sucking hard. His moans vibrate around your peaks, and your little sounds of pleasure only seem to pump him meaner, to the point where his teeth graze them now.
Riki’s thrusts turn sharper, angling just right, and the pressure builds too fast. You can’t even think, saliva gulped down in a mewl as he fills you over and over again. You moan his name over and over, gripping his arms, “Please, fuck.. Im so close, please.”
Your begging only entice him more, his hips n snap up until he’s grazing your cervix. Air’s gone thick with the stink of want, everyone caught up in some sort of trance.
Out of the blue, you find yourself coming for the second time that night with a shaky cry, walls fluttering and squeezing around him. The way you sound is enough to tip Jungwon over the edge as he spills hot across your thigh with a muffled groan against your tit, still sucking like he can’t let go.
You feel Riki empty inside the condom, gripping your ass and muttering your name again and again, mouth hanging open. He’s undoubtedly having one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, if he’s not counting the delicious one in the phone booth, that is.
Across the couch Heeseung and Jake follow almost at the same time, making each other come in a mess of wet kisses and shaky hands, both of them panting into each other’s mouths as they paint each other’s stomachs and fists.
Your legs give out, unable to catch up. You slump forward onto Riki’s chest, still so full of him, forehead mashed to his collarbone while he wraps both arms around you and holds you there. It’s almost tender if it wasn’t for the stench of sex and the loud panting of men.
“You did so good,” Riki murmurs into your hair, one hand stroking slow up and down your spine. “So fucking good for us.”
Everyone’s quiet for a minute, just catching their breath and their minds as well. Then there are gentle hands everywhere.
Jungwon wipes the mess off your thigh with careful fingers before pressing soft kisses along the same path. Sunghoon brings a warm cloth and cleans between your legs while Riki is still inside you, murmuring quiet praise the whole time. Heeseung and Jake lean in from either side, kissing your shoulders, your neck, the corners of your mouth, whispering how pretty you looked, how perfect you felt.
They take turns kissing your body like they’re worshipping every inch. It’s safe to say your body is sore, but your body could use more. That’s why even after witnessed them cleaning you up, you lift yourself off of Riki’s lap and walk over to Sunghoon.
“More,” you simply say against his chest.
And heck if he indulges.
rüe’s a/n : okay i’m sorry if it’s messy, took me a while to finish this one so the endings a bit rushed. reblogs and feedback is appreciated! 💗if the plots all over the place it’s cause it’s a smut originally so i didn’t really think about the plot that much. taglist: @waeclr @whymsikl
which one of them do you think y/n should go out with? unbiased😭
When a single man moves in next door to you and your husband, it wasn’t difficult for either of you to take interest in what he could offer to the dynamic of your lives together. Unfortunately, the new and interesting man appears to be afraid to admit that he’s curious as to what happens behind your very unlocked front door.
or the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.
minors dni! | reblog to give husband and neighbor a boner
WORDCOUNT― 18.9k
PAIRING― husband jongseong x afab reader x voyeur sunghoon
CONTENT― husband!jay, bachelor sunghoon, hotwifing/ open marriage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, second hand embarrassment, threesome, smut.
WARNINGS― mentions of sunghoon’s ex cheating on him, also jongseong is assumed to be bisexual and/or he is attracted to sunghoon too but there isn’t any dude on dude stuff. jongseong does put his fingers in sunghoon’s mouth tho, deal with it.
NOTE― i wrote this originally on ncteez. i am the same person lol
smut tags under cut::
smut tags― exhibitionism, voyeurism, big dick jay, HUGE dick sunghoon, top/dom(ish) jay, service top/shy/bottom(ish) sunghoon, embarrassment kink???, mentions of porn, masturbation, phone sex kind of?? idk he calls sunghoon so he can listen to the shit he’s seeing, alcohol consumption, finger fucking, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, tit fondling, raw grinding, oral (f & m receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, making out, dirty talk, pussy drunk men, cock drunk reader, double vaginal penetration, riding, missionary, finger sucking, cum stuffing, desperate desperate people!!!
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Sunghoon ran from a lot of things. He ran from his ex fiancée when she cheated, he ran from new opportunities out of fear of losing what he already had, ran from a cop once as a teenager for streaking near the old folk’s home. Running wasn’t exactly something he’s fond of but, more often than not it’s what his heart tells him to do.
As stated, the last time he ran away was when his fiancée was found in the bed he paid for with her co-worker. That’s when his need to run came in the most handy, having no qualms with giving her the apartment and everything in it. His job allowed him to leave without much of a financial hit, her’s wouldn’t.
The ring he bought stayed on her finger for some reason, the home he made became one she shared with any man that wasn’t him. It’s okay though, because to him? She can have it. He’s much more comfortable starting over than she would be. So, that’s what he does.
He has money, he has a good job, and now he has a lovely house of his own on a quaint little street on the other side of town. Far far away from her.
Starting over is equally as exhausting as it is exciting but Sunghoon keeps his chin up throughout the process. Making an empty house his new home, working his job as if his entire intimate life didn’t just fall apart, and of course, preparing himself to mingle with the new neighbors.
A month after moving, Sunghoon had made platter after platter of food for neighbors as his greeting in an attempt to make friends. Many accepted and returned his dishes washed and unscratched. All are friendly to him but the majority of people in this neighborhood are middle aged and a bit out of his league. There is one pair of neighbors who appear more around his age though, and interested in actual friendship with him. The pair who brought his dishes back full of their own offer of a decent dinner for him to eat on his own time.
Despite the majority of people living on this street being polite and fond of him as a newcomer, this specific couple appears to be the only ones without an entire family. Just like Sunghoon. No children, free time to go out on the weekends, no minivans or babysitters coming every day during working hours. Naturally, he internally clings to the idea of them being his new friends, because his old group of friends consisted of his ex fiancée and her tight-knit group of pompous women and their boy toys.
Jongseong is the husband’s name, and briefly he met you alongside him a few times. He assumes you must have your own interests to cater to, because each time he finds himself on his own front porch with Jongseong talking and joking around, you rarely come with him. Save for the one or two times you did stay to hang out for a couple of hours.
After a few months, he’s managed to sprout friendship with the man next door who has a pretty wife with a ring on her finger. Sunghoon tries not to internalize that he was supposed to be living the way Jongseong is. Maybe he’s a bit jealous of the happiness in Jongseong’s eyes when he talks about you, or maybe it makes him feel like he either wasn’t good enough as a partner, or his ex simply just didn’t love him anymore.
Still, even with the slight jealousy, Sunghoon is comfortable around him. He’s never clicked with another man so quickly in terms of friendship, at least not without several shots of hard liquor to get himself comfortable. It’s definitely different with his neighbor.
The guy is open, kind, and occasionally pretty funny. He comes over a few nights a week with the claim of “man-time”. It’s been at least fifteen times since he officially met Jongseong and comfort comes alongside him when he sits on this porch and they fuck around about menial things. Hanging out with him is arguably like a breath of fresh air.
Jongseong though, he takes note of a lot of things that Sunghoon doesn’t quite seem to notice himself. One, any time he mentions his wife, Sunghoon’s eyes falter a bit. Two, Sunghoon is clearly a single man and Jongseong can’t quite grasp why that is because he’s a handsome dude, with a level personality. Three, there are slight self-deprecating jokes coming from Sunghoon at least five times an hour and it’s starting to make him wonder. At first it can be funny, but after a while it kind of stops being a joke.
So, here they are, joking and having a nice conversation on Sunghoon’s porch. It’s a Friday night and Jongseong assumes they’re close enough by this point to really talk. You’re in the back of his mind, making offers, smirking about the new neighbor, laying down the interest flat out after merely meeting with him a few times. If Sunghoon really is a single man, and if he’s as open minded as he seems, perhaps laying down some hints and an invite can help him out of this clear slump that he tries to pretend he’s not in.
“What about you? Do you have someone in your life?” Jongseong asks after a solid twenty minutes of gushing about you. Internally knowing what he says about you is true, but also trying to sell the idea of how wonderful and sexy you are. He leans back as he studies Sunghoon, noting the way he stiffens at the question.
Again, it’s clear that Sunghoon is a single man with the way he’s always in this house alone before and after work. On the weekends, he’s sitting on his porch waiting for Jongseong to come join him. Sometimes there’s a doubt though, because looking at him, anyone would believe he is taken. He is down to earth, funny, kind, handsome as hell. Maybe he does see people and Jongseong just never catches it.
“Ah, no,” Sunghoon avoids eye contact, trying to laugh it off as he confirms Jongseong’s suspicions. He wants to talk about what happened though. He hasn’t been able to talk about it, and honestly, Jongseong seems like a trusted friend at this point. “I was with someone for six years, asked her to marry me, and then we broke it off. That’s why I’m here now.”
“Oh yeah? Starting over, huh?” Jongseong nods politely at him, figuring something like this may have happened. “Can I ask what happened?”
Sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly, looking at Jongseong with a carefree face and a smile.
“She wasn’t the most faithful, you know how it goes with those sorts of things, I guess.”
Jongseong studies his face a bit more, seeing straight through that carefree attitude and noting the immense amount of hurt Sunghoon must feel.
“Oh, well isn’t that nice?” He responds with a defeated shrug, almost wanting to roll his eyes. “You might be the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t dealt with infidelity at some point. Even just as a teenager.”
“On the contrary,” Jongseong says with a smirk, leaning towards Sunghoon as if he has a secret to tell. “We fuck other people all the time.”
Sunghoon stares at him as he processes those words. Unsure of it that means they both are cheating out of spite, or if they’re about to divorce or something.
“Sometimes in the same bed.”
Oh.
“At the same time.”
Jongseong deadpan stares at Sunghoon, searching for a reaction to his words. There have been many times where he and his wife invite someone to their bedroom, and many more times where the person ended up so freaked out that they ghosted the entire situation. Perhaps out of fear that Jongseong doesn’t know what he’s doing with his wife. Many people can’t seem to fathom that possessiveness, jealousy, and competition aren’t part of the deal.
You married Jongseong and he married you long after the two of you started doing this. The trial period was over before it even started. He loved watching you be pleasured, and you loved the way he looked at you as it happened. Of course, not all of the sex involves other people, but it never hurts the marriage when a third shows up.
“Oh–” Sunghoon swallows around his dry throat, mind running in several directions at once. He’s not sure how to respond to that information. “That’s cool, I guess.”
Jongseong stays silent, smirking a bit at the way Sunghoon, so tall and broad, stutters to find the words to say. It’s not like he straight up invited him, not yet at least.
“I couldn’t imagine doing that, considering I just left my fiancée for fucking someone else.”
Jongseong nods both understandingly and apologetically. People do tend to mix up the two. Is it cheating when he watches another person fuck you? To some people, yeah but, monogamy is natural for many people.
“I assume she didn’t tell you that she would be fucking someone else.” Jongseong shrugs, leaning back again. “I can imagine that even if she did tell you, you’d not have allowed it, right?”
Sunghoon nods.
“It puts my stomach in knots to think of someone I love wanting to be with someone else.”
“That’s fair,” Jongseong starts, glancing away and thinking of how to word what he wants to say. “What if someone else wanted you to fuck the person they love?”
Sunghoon freezes again, unsure of if he’s thinking too hard about that question, or not enough.
“I’m sorry, what?” He asks defensively, looking his neighbor dead in the eye.
“I’m not saying you have to take up this offer but, I mean, you’re a single guy. I’m a married guy, with a wife who is incredibly curious about you.”
Sunghoon continues to process the words, still overthinking it.
“Is this a joke?” He asks in a quieter voice, whispering as if the entire neighborhood can hear them.
“Are you attracted to her?” Jongseong continues to press, wondering what it’ll take to get a simple yes or no out of him. He notes the way Sunghoon’s ear goes red, and can’t tell if it’s because of the offer or because he’s afraid to call another man’s wife attractive.
“Here, let me rephrase,” He starts over, leaning forward again. “My wife thinks you’re, in her own words, ‘beautiful.’ She asks about you every time I come home from hanging out here, and she’s starting to get persistent.”
Sunghoon, still at a loss for words, slowly nods.
“She’s pretty, yeah.” He says, now leaning himself toward Jongseong and raising a brow in curiosity.
“As a single man, are you looking for love or are you looking for fun?” Jongseong continues, prying answers out of him and smiling at the way it seems he was right in believing there is interest here.
“I just got out of a six year relationship, I’m not trying to do all of that again,” Sunghoon shakes his head in disappointment. “Not for now, at least.”
“So, do you want to fuck my wife?”
Silence.
Jongseong pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily, seemingly frustrated.
“Look, does it help to know that I want to watch you fuck my wife?”
Louder silence.
“Okay, you clearly need some time to think. Just, if you’re ever interested let me know. I can open the blinds if you want, like a sample or something.”
Jongseong can see the way his eyes glisten at that offer through his silence. The wavering interest igniting right then and there. Ah, a voyeur, what a perfect addition to this neighborhood of dry vanilla cake. It’s not strange at all to see a monogamous man watching his footing in this situation, but the offer to watch is an entirely different thing from an offer to join right off the bat. Especially since there needs to be boundaries set if he decides he does want to fuck you.
For instance, when did he last get tested? Considering he got duped by his ex, that’s important. Does he like it raw? Does he know the ass belongs to Jongseong only? Etcetera.
“Can you say something? I’m starting to feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“Ah, sorry. It’s just–” Sunghoon leans back with a sigh of relief at the general questioning being over and done with. “Yeah, I need to think about it.”
“Don’t think too hard,” Jongseong laughs. “It’s getting late so, if you need me I’ll be fucking my wife.”
Sunghoon watches him stand on his feet and follows the action. Feeling both closer to him and also in a rut of wondering if their entire friendship will rely on whether he wants to fuck his wife or not. Should he like, hug him goodbye or something?
He stands awkwardly as Jongseong studies him even more.
“Just think about it, really. She loves being watched too, if you don’t want to be involved directly.”
God, he can feel how red his ears and face have become, surely Jongseong knows by now that the interest outweighs the concerns. And as Jongseong turns to head down the steps, he calls out to him.
“Let’s say I’m interested but unsure of how to go about it, what then?”
Jongseong turns to him and smiles, taking a few steps closer so that he doesn’t have to yell out to him.
“It’s sex. If you know how to fuck, you fuck.“
“And if I’m not entirely ready to throw myself into your marital bed?”
“There’s still a couch, and again–” He smirks. “Like I said, opening the curtains isn’t the most insane sexual practice.”
Sunghoon being the person looking through those curtains though…is it really not as insane as he’s thinking it is?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“So…?” You ask as soon as Jongseong comes through the door, clinging to him with doe-eyes and a smile.
“He seems interested but,” Your husband slides off his shoes and heads straight for the couch to lay against it in a huff. “I don’t know. Just found out his ex cheated on him after like six years, I think the whole idea spooked him.”
“Ah, damn.” You look to the floor, and then make your way onto the couch with him. “What did you say?”
“I asked him if he wanted to fuck you.”
You narrow your eyes at him before rolling them with a frustrated sigh.
“Why would you ask him straight up like that? I cannot believe you pride yourself in being the talker of our sex life. It’s no wonder we have trouble finding people to join.”
Jongseong looks at you with a fond smirk before shaking his head at you.
“Would you feel better if I told you that he admitted to thinking you’re pretty?”
You smile, warming up next to your husband and feeling entirely safe here.
“What about if I told you that right before I came back home, he said he was interested and just didn’t know how to go about it?”
A bigger smile forms on your face as you look up at him, devious eyes glistening in the warm lighting of your living room.
“I offered that he can just watch instead. If he takes up that offer, it won't be long before he’s banging on our front door ready to show us a good time.”
You reach up to brush some of his fringe out of his face before releasing a dreamy sigh.
“He’s so handsome. Like, even from here I can tell he must be packing. I hope you’re right.” You say as Jongseong rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that Sunghoon is your type and you’re probably never gonna shut up about him. “Can’t believe someone cheated on that.”
“Alright, alright.” He playfully complains, shoving you back against the couch and practically smothering you with his form as he flops down on you. “He hasn’t accepted yet, save those compliments for if he joins. He seems pretty shy, probably likes to be doted on.”
“Ooh, shy?”
“Oh yeah, for sure. He was actually stuttering when I made the offer, I don’t think he noticed how red his face got.”
You chuckle at the mental image of Sunghoon being shy. You only had to meet him a few times to grow interest in him, but on first glance you’d think he would be the dominant type. It’s a welcome change that your husband thinks he’s the opposite.
“Do you think If I joined you next time, he might be more inclined to pull it out or something?”
“Absolutely not. I can imagine he wouldn’t even come out of his house if he saw you on his porch after what I said to him.”
“God, he’s cute.”
Jongseong nods against you in agreement, finally pulling his weight from you and standing on his feet.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun to see where this leads. Now if you’ll just follow me to the bedroom, I also told him I’d be fucking you tonight so I’d like to make good on my promise.”
Fortunately for you, Jongseong never makes a promise that he can’t keep.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
For days Sunghoon contemplates the things his neighbor said. Over the short time he’s known him, he clicked into friendship so easily and felt like he could trust him. Apparently, Jongseong felt the same way because spilling all of those intimate details right there during a regular hang out was a bit out of the blue. Then again, he can’t imagine a married man would simply offer for anyone to fuck his wife, so the pros definitely outweigh the cons of this situation.
If it was a joke, he thinks he would know by now. All he’s gotten from Jongseong since then is pleasant conversation as if the offer was never made to begin with. Which somehow makes it worse because he wants to talk about it. He wants more clarity.
God, since then, he’s had nothing but intrusive thoughts of fantasies he’s never considered before. He’s so horny out of his mind on a daily basis thinking about it, especially now that he doesn’t have his ex fiancée around. Porn has never been so loved by him until now. Even when he was a teenager, he never jerked off this much just to calm his thoughts.
The various types of porn he’s viewed within the past five days is insane. The post-nut guilt hit him pretty hard at first, sending him into both a sex crazed and sex starved stupor but, the interest only heightened from there as he would eventually start searching up porn related to the exact thing he’s been offered.
On the sixth night of contemplation, he peeks through his blinds at the house next door and notes the silence. He knows some wild things must happen in that bedroom and he wants to know what it is so badly. Naturally, he starts searching up some keywords without really knowing what any of it entails.
He watches cuckold video after cuckold video, feeling his opinions of fucking another man’s wife validated by the amount of people who seem to love it the way he wants to. Then, exhibitionism comes into play. He watches at least ten videos involving said kink, his cock growing so pathetically hard at the fact that this could be a reality if he wants. Then, voyeurism.
Good lord, that’s him. All of these videos, at least in the ten more he watches, he can easily put himself in the shoes of watching. Which only makes it more arousing when he lands on a video that is clearly scripted, but entirely too similar to what his kind neighbors offered.
There, a man watches through his window, palming himself as a woman gets absolutely railed against her own window. The camera pans to and from both ends of the scenario, for five minutes he watches the woman get fucked from the man’s window view, and then for another five minutes, he watches the man pleasure himself from her view as she moans and whimpers for him.
He watches intently, weeping cock twitching each time he closes his eyes and realizes that if he wanted it, that could be him. He could be the stranger in a window watching his neighbors get eachother off, except Sunghoon isn’t a stranger.
He doesn’t even need to watch the video to imagine now. Thousands upon thousands of videos comfort him in the idea that yeah, maybe involving himself in a marriage that isn’t his own is okay. Jongseong is a handsome guy, and pretty fit himself. Then there’s you, such a pretty fucking woman, walking around like you don’t like to get fucked by multiple people as your husband watches.
Goddamn, if there’s any couple he’d want to be involved with, it would be you and your husband.
Okay, maybe he’s interested and maybe that interest plays out the next day. Or rather, the next evening. Another Friday night, when Jongseong usually comes over to hang out except this time Sunghoon doesn’t respond to his texts until much later. Out of both nervousness and his own mind games hyping himself up.
If he’s gonna watch, he doesn’t want Jongseong to see him a mere hour or two before it happens, at least.
Now though, ten at night, he hyped up his cock the same way he hyped up his mentality. When he’s horny, it’s much easier for him to work up the courage to lay down his own hints, to show his own interest, and to play along with things he’s never delved into.
Sunghoon: Hey um
Jongseong: here I was thinking you were ignoring me or something
Sunghoon: can i ask about something?
Hell yeah he can.
Jongseong: oh? you finally warmed up to the idea?
Sunghoon: i’m just curious.
Jongseong peeps out his own window to see Sunghoon’s blinds very quickly close.
Jongseong: why’d you back away from the window?
Sunghoon: i don’t know, i feel like a weirdo
Jongseong: i invited you to watch me fuck my wife, Sunghoon.
No response.
There’s a few moments of silence on Jongseong’s end as he turns to you and flicks his head to the window.
“I’m ninety percent sure he wants me to fuck you in front of that window right now.”
“Oh?” You perk up in interest, hopping up from the bed and running over to the window beside your husband and peeking out. “Open them up then. If he watches, he watches.”
Jongseong nods, looking down at the silence of his text messages and smirking. You’re right, if Sunghoon wants to watch, he will.
And so, as you go make yourself up in the bathroom for a good first impression, Jongseong is quick to work himself up now too. Given, the two of you were about to call it a night and sleep since the day was quite exhausting, this is a welcome change of events. After all, Jongseong knows how you act when you’re both horny and exhausted. He’s sure Sunghoon will love it if he works up the courage to just look.
After a few minutes more of silence from Sunghoon’s message box, you make your way back into the room and stare at the window.
“Is his bedroom lined up with ours?” You ask, quirking a brow.
“I assume so, yeah.” Jongseong shrugs, still palming against himself lazily to get ready to put on a show.
“Oh, this could be really fun.” You say, now moving toward the window and pulling at the curtains to move them completely from Sunghoon’s presumed view.
Jongseong follows suit, raising the blinds so fast that the sound is almost laughable.
“Should I go ahead and take off my clothes, or?” You ask now, noting the way Sunghoon’s blinds are still very much closed.
“Put this on, tie it loosely and let it fall open for him.” Jongseong smiles, handing you the silk robe you only ever wear when a third is joining you.
“Oooh, perfect.” You laugh with a wiggle of your brows, stepping away from the window to completely undress and put on the robe.
Jongseong finally texts Sunghoon again when you get yourself situated, right there in the view of his dark and silent home.
Jongseong: blinds are open.
Thank god Sunghoon has read receipts on, because right as Jongseong goes to lock his phone and play with you, he notes that it’s been read and instantly glues himself against your back.
“He knows. Keep your eyes at his window, yeah baby?” Jongseong whispers before snaking an arm around you and slipping it under your robe to instantly rub against your clit.
You do exactly as he says, gluing your eyes to the window directly across from you as you slightly spread your legs and grip the windowsill. Jongseong is good at this, always great with putting on a show too. You know for a fact that even if Sunghoon doesn’t watch, you’re going to be seeing stars whenever your husband deems it appropriate.
“You think he’s gonna look?” You ask curiously with a sigh, trying not to immediately lose yourself to the feeling of his fingers against your clit, or the hand he’s currently slipping through your robe to grope and squeeze your tits.
“We can only hope, until then, just enjoy it.” Jongseong smiles against your neck, kissing the back of it before resting his chin on your shoulder, trying to work you up to where you start to slowly lose your sanity like you always do.
It works out perfectly for him, knowing that whether Sunghoon watches or not, he’s going to make damn sure you’re taken care of. His fingers expertly slide up and down your delicate folds, and his other hand pinches and rolls your nipple to the point that it’s swollen and sensitive. His kisses against your neck become peppered and gentle as he feels your legs start to shake a bit each time his fingers reach your clit again.
You try to turn your head to look at him, but he laughs.
“No, eyes on the window.” He says in a raspy whisper, pressing his barely clothed cock against your ass. Thankfully, he’s adjusted himself to where just the tip pokes out of his boxers and feeling the coolness of the silk robe offer a gentle and soft sensation, it satiates his needs for now. “Feels good even like this, yeah?” He asks, sliding his fingers down to tease with your hole.
You nod against him, breathing in deeply and turning to jelly against him. You love and hate the way he makes your body react. It’s hard to keep your eyes on that window across from you when you’re being offered sheer arousal right behind you.
“Mm, you always get so wet when you know someone might be watching.” Your husband compliments you, dipping his fingers in before sliding them out again and running them up to swirl around your clit with more pressure than before. “God, you’re soaking my fingers already babe, he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on–”
You let out a small moan, frustrated that you want Jongseong to be right. If only Sunghoon would take the two of you up on the offer. If only he would actually glimpse even for a moment. You clench at the idea of those blinds opening, grinding harshly against Jongseong’s hand with a desperate sort of sound.
Right then, you see movement next door. Jongseong can tell with the way your pussy grips his fingers tightly when he slides them back into you, and you let out a genuine and desperate moan. He flicks his eyes up, now noting the movement himself.
The way you writhe your body at the mere confirmation that Sunghoon is watching is insanely erotic to your husband. Whether it’s out of curiosity or if it’s out of arousal, it doesn't matter. He loves the way you get turned on so fast, and with this being the situation, he’s not surprised that you seem more desperate than usual. Plus, the fact that those blinds stay parted shows that Sunghoon likes what he’s seeing, and you couldn’t be more aroused by the thought of what he must be doing behind the veil of his own window-blinds.
Jongseong chuckles gently in your ear as you continue to lose your mind on his fingers, he can tell that now you’re moving to turn both him and Sunghoon on, rather than just him like moments ago. You grind more, you whine more, you get increasingly more wet.
And as you stare forward to the little space in Sunghoon’s window where his eyes sit, you grow more and more frustrated with the way he doesn’t open the blinds up. You want to see him too, you need to see if he’s touching himself.
Jongseong can tell through your frustrated moans that you need more, and like the doting husband he is, he offers a solution fairly quickly.
“What’s wrong?” He coos, fucking his fingers in again at an angle, deepening them inside of you and holding your waist in place. “He’s not giving you what you want?”
You nod brokenly, finally tearing your eyes from the window and shooting a pleading look to your husband, rolling your eyes back only slightly when his fingertips bump the soft and sensitive spot inside of you.
“My phone, use it.” Jongseong smiles, holding your waist in place tighter so he can fuck his fingers in at a harsher pace. You tremble in his grasp, unsure if you can even process the idea of texting right now. “Tell him to let you see him.”
You nod, smiling through the sensitivity of your g-spot being repeatedly assaulted, clearly on purpose, surely to have you going fucking feral. Reaching for the phone, your hands are trembling as you unlock it and read over the messages from before with Sunghoon. His curiosity is hopefully strong enough to actually stick around for the next however long, because god, you want him to see you fall apart.
Jongseong: open your blinds, let me see
Sunghoon watches you text as your body jerks with each hidden movement of Jongseong’s hand under that robe, and when his phone goes off he almost panics. Almost. He drops his cock and grabs his phone in one hand while using the other to keep the split of his blinds open enough to keep watching. Fighting the feeling of appearing like a damn stalker, despite his hips rubbing his achingly hard cock against the trim of the window.
The way Jongseong stares from behind you, the way you smirk through faces of pleasure at what he’s doing to you, at what he must be saying to you. Sunghoon has never felt so fucking aroused watching someone have what he wants. The way you skew your head to listen to what your husband is saying, the way his hands move to places he can’t see. Arguably, you look like the most fuckable person on this planet at the moment and it’s incredibly difficult to not want to fuck something, anything, right now.
Sunghoon knows he’s done for if he so much as grips his own cock by now. So quickly the thought of doing this made his pathetic cock weep against his briefs, and now, seeing it happen in real time just across the yard. Yeah, he could cum within seconds if he doesn’t try to control it. Upon reading your text though, he finds himself following precise directions and opens the blinds for you to reveal himself.
His face flushes seeing you in full without the blinds cutting off his peripheral vision. It kind of hits him differently realizing he’s in his own quiet bedroom fucking himself to the image of you propped up against the window for him. It’s embarrassing and he feels entirely pathetic when you look at him like this. Both so far away and so close at the same time. His senses are heightened tenfold the moment he sees you react.
An accidental moan spills from his lips, the sound breaking the heavy silence of his home and echoing through the walls as if to tell whatever ghosts that live here that he definitely wants to fuck around with the married couple next door. Your attraction to him only heightens the confidence he holds within himself.
You, on the other hand, can feel your arousal drip out of you and onto your husband’s hand at seeing Sunghoon coming into full view. Your hand grips at your husband’s, clumsily allowing yourself to feel the sheer force of how his fingers are plunging into you just at the right moment. You roll your head back briefly, basking in the pleasure of being fucked and watched.
“Keep watching babe,” Jongseong groans himself, flicking his eyes to Sunghoon. “He’s so hard.”
You weakly lift your head again, opening your darkened eyes and looking directly at the man through the window. His hair is a mess, fanning across his forehead, and he’s shirtless, revealing the abs you only assumed he had at first glance. His cock is heavy against his dark gray briefs, stretching the fabric out enough to tell you that, yeah, he is packing.
You make eye contact with him, staring straight into his eyes as you press your ass back and against Jongseong, who readily accepts the movement and presses his cock directly against you with a soft sigh of his own.
“Already?” He whispers to you with an amused chuckle, stilling his fingers and dropping his other hand to toy at the tie of your robe, hopefully so it falls open naturally at a quicker pace now that you appear to be losing it.
“Right now.” You respond in a desperate voice, hiking one leg up against the table off to the side and feeling your robe instantly fall open.
Your eyes devour the image of Sunghoon’s mouth falling open in what you can only assume is a moan at your naked body being revealed to him and Jongseong’s fingers rapidly fucking into you. Instantly, you shoot your hand to your chest and start toying with one of your nipples for him. Throwing a hungry gaze straight across the way and making obvious suggestions at him through it.
Jongseong from behind you is seemingly in his own little world when he pulls his fingers out and shoves his boxers down. He arches your back with his palm so that your ass lifts for him, instantly you can feel his cock between your legs. He takes a step back, pulling you with him and removing your leg from the table to position you in a way that if Sunghoon looks hard enough, he can see the way his cock slides between your thighs.
“Not yet, let’s play first.” Jongseong soothes you through the disappointed sigh of your leg being pulled down from the table. You were so ready to start fucking immediately, but of course he wants to make a good first impression. “Hold your legs together.” He adds.
You listen perfectly, feeling Jongseong’s cock slide easily between your thighs.
“God, fuck–” He moans, feeling the wetness of you drip down onto his length as you squeeze your thighs together as tightly as possible. “He would go insane over you.”
“He already is,” You chuckle weakly, staring at the way Sunghoon’s hand snakes under his briefs and tugs against himself. “I want to see it so bad.”
“Mm, yeah, I bet you do.” Jongseong responds mindlessly, loving the feeling your thighs offer to his desperate length. “Tell him then.”
Right then, Sunghoon can see a mischievous little smile form across your lips as he struggles already not to release against his perfectly cleaned window. The way Jongseong manhandles you is one thing, with his hands gripping onto your flesh just to pound his cock between your legs– fuck. But, the way both of you stare straight at him is another. Sunghoon might be obsessed with the way the two of you touch each other intentionally to get all three of you off. So badly does he want to be right there in the room, hearing you in his ear, watching Jongseong kiss across your skin and massage your pretty sensitive pussy. One that he hasn’t entirely even gotten to see yet.
Then, he jumps as his phone rings.
From your end, you watch as he jumps out of surprise, glances at his phone, then back at you, shaking his head with a wince as he grips his cock again.
“He’s not going to pick up.” You comment as the tightened squeeze of your thighs loosen up with disappointment.
Jongseong is instantly smiling, letting his cock fall from its place of stimulation and is pulling you back, back, back. Offering a full view of him falling back on the bed, and you falling with him.
“Show him your pussy.” Jongseong says, reaching around you to open your thighs as if you’re a grand prize for this little sex game of trying to seduce a broken hearted man.
Jongseong knows he has an entire list of positions he could do to get Sunghoon just as desperate as you get. Usually, presenting his wife’s pussy at another man is enough to have them making decisions they previously doubted. He hopes Sunghoon reacts the same, because if he’s being totally honest with himself, saying no to you when you’re spread out like this is a fucking sin.
You stare at Sunghoon when your husband spreads your legs, pussy pulsing around nothing more than the stare being directed at it. And there, sitting on Jongseong’s hips with your back facing him, you easily hold your legs open and slide your fingers down to circle your clit.
You stay like that for a moment, squinting to see Sunghoon’s reaction and noting the way his hand fucks faster under the fabric of his briefs. You want him to go harder, so hard that he needs to take that last remaining bit of clothing off of him so that you can see. Thankfully, Jongseong’s cock lies right below where your ass is sitting , and it’s easy to grasp it and hold it up against your folds. You grid against it gently before swirling your clit along the length of him, still staring at Sunghoon with a smile. As if to tell him, “this could be you.”
The way Sunghoon’s hand moves faster is one thing, the way he looks more unashamed now compared to when you first saw him in that window is another. The way his arms flex as he keeps his cock hidden beneath those briefs, jerking himself off desperately as if you can’t tell he’s struggling not to moan loud enough for you to hear even from here, it’s too fucking erotic.
Never have you and your husband had a neighbor to play with like this. Typically, you’re being watched in the same room, this is something entirely different. This is insanely arousing and you can feel your pussy clench each time you’re reminded of how fucking sweet this deal could be.
“Keep doing that” Jongseong continues to instruct through a half-moan, feeling the way you rub his length against you as a form of masturbation. “I’ll call him again.”
This time, you note how the phone rings once before Sunghoon is fumbling to answer. You see the way his hand stills to put his focus on saying “hello?” as if he doesn’t know it’s you and your husband. As if the people calling him aren’t watching him fuck himself.
Jongseong starts immediately though, his words driving you insane enough to know Sunghoon would have to react in a way that sends him over edge too.
“You wouldn’t believe how wet she is,” Your husband boasts without greeting him back, putting the phone on speaker and lying it next to the two of you. “I bet you would love to bury your tongue in her right now, wouldn’t you?”
Sunghoon nearly stutters as he hears the words, staring at the way you hold Jongseong’s cock right where you want it to grind against. It’s so much to be able to see and hear what’s happening, and it’s like something in his head clicks. He’s so fucking turned on that he feels like he’s going insane, so he puts his normal, level-minded self to rest. No room for embarrassment when his cock is already aching for the couple who seem to want him just as bad.
“Fuck, yeah,” Sunghoon sighs out, lying his own phone down against the window sill and fucking his hips forward into his hand. His briefs now stretched out to the point that they truly are more of an issue than anything else right now. “I would, god, how wet?”
You moan at how desperate his voice sounds, now pressing your clit directly against the head of Jongseong’s cock and deliberately making yourself moan from pleasure. When he flashes his cock to you though, fuck. Just barely he lowers his briefs, palm teasing himself in such a harsh way. He looks so pretty over there, all alone, watching someone else get to play with you like some kind of pervert.
“That’s it,” You say, knowing he can hear you. “Let me see you.”
Sunghoon does, shoving his briefs down entirely now, allowing you to imprint the image of how thick and heavy his length is in your brain permanently.
“Oh, you’d feel so good,” You half-groan to Sunghoon, now inching your husband’s cock straight to your hole and preparing to fuck the daylights out of him. “I knew you’d have a cock just as pretty as you.”
Jongseong chuckles from behind you, entirely aroused by the way you talk to another man, a more shy man. He can tell how desperate you are by now too, especially with the way you toy with his cock as if you picked it up from a store shelf and it’s not attached to him. He loves it. And when he sits up, wrapping his arms around you to also see Sunghoon, he smiles.
Both of you are totally fucking gone. Even from here he can tell Sunghoon is losing his mind over you. Thankfully, you deserve nothing less and Jongseong couldn’t be happier to play off of the way you both seem to want each other terribly.
“See this?” He says towards the phone, snaking his hand around you to move his cock and spreading your pussy lips. ”Even from there, can’t you see how wet she is for this?”
Both of you can hear Sunghoon’s muffled groan before you see it, his head falling forward against the window as he stares down at his hand and the way he fucks it. You’re entirely satisfied, because you know what he’s thinking. You can see how badly he wants it, and your husband does nothing but remind him of it.
“Do you want me to fuck him?” You finally ask, pushing your own agenda and rising up on your knees to situate yourself right above Jongseong’s length, where he takes over and holds it in place for you.
Sunghoon’s eyes shoot back to the two of you and he nods before breathing out a small “Yeah…”
He doesn’t seem like much of a talker, but it could still be stage fright. Even if he isn’t the one on the damn stage. You can imagine he would get better at this if he accepts the invite of your open blinds on more than one occasion.
Jongseong chuckles again at him, the breathy tone of his voice is quite obvious to him. Sunghoon is holding out, he doesn’t want to cum too soon and end the fun.
“You heard him babe, ride me.”
Instantly, you’re sinking down and feeling the harsh stretch of Jongseong’s cock pulsing inside of you. Your drawn out moan rings in Sunghoon’s mind as he watches the slow descent. Only now, noting how big Jongseong is, and seeing how well you take it. He twitches in his palm, eyes nearly rolling back to escape the overwhelming arousal that floods his thoughts.
Sunghoon isn’t sure if either of you are aware, but he can hear how wet you are through the phone. When you slide down and start bouncing, all while staring forward at him, he can hear it pour out of you. The slapping of your ass landing against Jongseong is a beautiful sound, and he does his best not to moan through it and muffle those sounds out.
He stares straight back at you, thinking hard enough at how he fucks the circle his fingers create. He’s losing his breath when he fucks his fist in time with the way you bounce, tuning into your face and imagining that he’s the one you’re riding. No offense to Jongseong, it’s nearly like he doesn’t exist right now considering he’s almost entirely hidden by you.
That doesn’t last too long though, because Jongseong makes himself well known through his breathy words. Dirty talking in a way that somehow, Sunghoon still finds himself shocked by it. The words turn him on, he can only imagine how you feel about.
“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight.” Jongseong says at first, gripping your thighs and basking in the way you squeeze his length each time Sunghoon does something to turn you on. “ All spread out like this for him? So, so good.”
Sunghoon feels so shameless, and for some reason it feels okay. Your husband is dirty talking to you about him and it’s insanely sexy when he hears it. Already stuttering his hips in his palm, especially when he notes that Jongseong moves his hands to your pussy and spreads it open again for him. Offering him the perfect view of his length sliding in and out of you.
“Would love to see how this pussy gets filled up, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Unsure if Jongseong is talking to you or to him at this point, Sunghoon answers without thinking.
“Fuck, yeah, fuck–” Sunghoon says with a cut-off groan, holding the base of his cock so tight he feels like he can’t breathe. He can’t release yet, he has to keep going.
You moan loudly at his breathed out answer, nodding your head frantically at the confirmation, answering for yourself shortly after.
“Yeah?” You start, encouraging Sunghoon to keep talking. “You think you could stretch me open too? Yeah?”
And then? He moans brokenly through the phone which instantly has you leaning yourself back, and lying against Jongseong’s chest. He falls back with you, holding you and once again and moving his fingers to your clit, his cock still pounding in at the perfect pace.
“Fuck, she’s there–” Jongseong grits out, feeling your orgasm wash over you and grip his cock insanely tightly. “Goddamn, feels so good babe, that’s it.”
Sunghoon, watching and listening, instantly releases the grip on the base of his cock, staring straight at the way Jongseong stuffs his length inside of you. Hearing the way you called his name with encouraging words echoes in his head, and then he stutters out a broken sob as he feels his own orgasm wash over him, and just like him, you’re also listening.
He must hold his breath when he’s close, or maybe he’s just way more shy than he appears to be, considering what he’s doing right now, but you don’t mind as you ride your own high. Ears popping shortly after when Jongseong continues to chase his own pleasure through the mess of your pulsing cunt.
Strangely enough, even Jongseong is shocked at how fast he cums from this. Releasing a mere two seconds after you relaxed around him. You can feel him pulse inside of you as you lie against him, pussy still on full display, cum dripping out of you in a beautiful scene for Sunghoon’s eyes to devour.
And devour, they do. Sunghoon just stares, head spinning as he ignores the spurts of cum hitting his window and dripping down onto his carpet. His hand is also drenched but he makes no attempt to move afterwards. Arguably, he’s still aroused by the image of the way your husband fills you up like that, and the way you’re so full of his cock that it dribbles out and onto your thighs from around him.
God, he wants to lick you so bad. Even now, fully spent and his sober-mind coming back to him, he wants to taste you. He wants to taste what Jongseong just spilled into you.
“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, breaking the silence with an out of breath voice. “You still watching?”
There’s another moment of paused silence.
“Yeah–”
Jongseong smiles, nuzzling his face against you and your neck as you continue to lean against him out of breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, once again spreading you open for Sunghoon to see, allowing the rest of his cum to drip out of you.
“Take a good look, because this pussy went fucking insane over you.” He says, slapping your sensitive clit twice before sliding his hand down and playing in the mess he’s made of you.
Sunghoon does look. He has been looking. Honestly, it’s almost embarrassing at the way his cock twitches with interest again, so fucking fast after having already been emptied. Never has his ex let him raw her like that. Never has he seen his cum drip out of someone. He’s so jealous right now.
“I’ll be coming over tomorrow to discuss this.” Jongseong adds nonchalantly, easily going from filth-talk to casual-talk. “Get some rest.”
“Goodnight, Pretty boy.” You call out with a dazed smile, finally moving yourself off of Jongseong and adjusting your robe back onto your shoulders.
And right before Jongseong hangs up the phone, both of you smile at each other at the way Sunghoon lets out, in the tiniest voice for such a broad man, a gentle little “Goodnight.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By morning, Sunghoon nearly forgot Jongseong said he was coming over. It wasn’t until the afternoon when he managed to get the image of you getting off out of his mind that he remembered there’s supposed to be a discussion about it.
Embarrassment hits him harder than it ever has, thinking about what he was doing for both of you to see. It wasn’t just a show for him, he put one on for the two of you as well.
When he makes his way back into his bedroom, he tries to ignore the fact that your blinds are still open, and there’s no one in the room. He pauses briefly, once again trapped in the on-going loop of what he saw happening on that very bed just the night before.
It feels like he’s doomed when Jongseong comes over. He could just not answer the door but it doesn’t change the fact that he lives right next door and he already came all over his window before your very eyes. Before Jongseong’s very eyes. He’s already crossed the boundary into someone else’s marriage and despite loving the idea of it, it’s scary. It’s not something he’s ever considered doing before meeting the two of you, and now, he’s kind of just confused as to how all of this works.
Like, it almost seems too sweet of a deal. You’re a beautiful couple, who is he to be able to watch what you do with your husband? What’s the catch?
Well, he comes to find out that there isn’t much of a catch at all. Jongseong shows up with a warm smile and a gift of wine. It felt welcoming but insanely awkward with the way it’s the first time Sunghoon has ever been offered a hug by him.
They hug. Jongseong fucking hugs him to say hello with that expensive ass bottle of wine as if to say “nice cock, my wife loved it.”
Jongseong does pick up on the awkwardness though, stepping through Sunghoon’s door and inviting himself in. After all, it’s only appropriate at this point. He keeps his smile though, loving the way you woke up in a good mood all thanks to Sunghoon letting his curiosity get the best of him.
“Don’t be like that,” Jongseong says, glancing around the house and nodding in approval that it doesn’t appear to be entirely barren. He kind of expected the house to not feel like a home, because that’s usually what single men do. “You can back out anytime you want.”
Sunghoon, somehow, feels eased by those words. His heart thumps against his chest at the thought of never doing it again though. Which is kind of weird to him.
“Sorry, I just don’t really know how to act right now...”
Jongseong offers him a warm smile again, seeing himself to the kitchen and opening the drawers.
“We can talk about that,” He waves him off, still rummaging through a kitchen that isn’t his own. “You got a corkscrew?”
Sunghoon nods, trying to make his frame seem as small as possible by tip-toeing past his neighbor with the huge cock and opening one of the only drawers he didn’t get to. He pulls out the corkscrew and hands it to him, making no attempt to look into his eyes even for a second.
“Oh my god, loosen up.” Jongseong rolls his eyes, shoving Sunghoon by the shoulder playfully and heading back to the bottle of wine.
Sunghoon feels slightly comforted by the fact that maybe he can loosen up with a bit of wine in his system, but getting to that point feels like it’s going to be hell. He’s never felt so embarrassed.
“Sorry,” He responds in a small voice, grabbing two random cups and following Jongseong. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to expect out of this whole thing, like–”
Jongseong cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
“That’s why I’m here to talk to you about it. Clearly this isn’t something you’ve done before, it’s not like we didn’t want you to get off or anything. You’ll come to learn that we enjoy this kind of thing.”
He pauses as he opens the bottle, shifting it to the side now to grab two cups and look at Sunghoon.
“If you end up not enjoying it, there’s always someone else we can find to take up the offer.”
Sunghoon very nearly panics, hoping it doesn’t show plainly on his face as he takes over pouring the wine. Jongseong picks up on people so easily, watching Sunghoon shake his head slightly at the words and pour a suspiciously nervous amount of wine into both cups.
“That’s the thing though,” Sunghoon says, popping the cork back into the bottle and already taking a swig of his wine. “I did enjoy it. I mean, I do enjoy it.”
Jongseong raises his brow, nodding his head in encouragement and grabbing his own cup before following Sunghoon to his living room.
“Good, I’m glad you had fun. Let’s talk about it then.”
Sunghoon knows it’s inevitable, and hopefully within the next hour, he won’t feel so cautious in talking about it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“You know, usually I wouldn’t let her cum so fast,” Jongseong shrugs, standing to grab the bottle of wine and bring it into the living room. “I tend to try and get a few out of her but she just wasn’t going to let me. Did you see the way she grabbed it and sat on me? I couldn’t have stopped her even if I wanted to.”
The way Jongseong talks loudly and comfortably about it is kind of soothing. Given, this is probably why they’re opting to hang out inside of the house rather than outside. This is a private matter, an intimate one, even.
“She slept like a rock afterwards, and is now insisting we keep the blinds open at all times to view at your discretion.”
Sunghoon stutters a bit, scooting his cup towards Jongseong and hoping he pours another generous amount into his cup. Already, since he doesn’t drink too often these days, he can feel the buzz and comfort settles within him as Jongseong seemingly dotes on him.
“What I’m trying to say is, our blinds are permanently open unless you’d rather not do this. Alternatively, the door is open too, but,” Jongseong pauses so he can sip his drink. “You’re going to need to get tested first if you want that thing anywhere near my wife.”
Sunghoon shifts slightly, squeezing his legs together uncomfortably as his wine bubbles in his belly.
“I’ve already been tested. My ex cheated on me with god knows how many people, you think that wasn’t the first thing I did?”
“Smart man,” Jongseong claps him on the shoulder, now leaning in a bit too close for comfort if Sunghoon were still in his embarrassed mind-state. “We get that you’re shy about all of this, but I’ve gotta tell you, the way she clenched when you moaned, oh man.”
Sunghoon’s eyes start to shine at the compliment, for some reason feeling like he’s on top of the world hearing that.
“Felt like I was being strangled, honestly.” Jongseong laughs before going quiet. “So, what do you think?”
Sunghoon pauses, staring at his cup and then at his neighbor.
“I, um–” He sighs out of frustration, wondering why he can’t articulate a damn sentence with confidence. “I liked watching, I guess. Not sure if I’m ready to just…”
“Come over and fuck my wife?” Jongseong finishes his sentence playfully before immediately gripping Sunghoon’s shoulder and laughing fondly at him. “Take your time. Like I said, the blinds are open and we have a pretty active sex life. I can imagine you’re going to wonder how I’m not milked dry yet.”
He already wonders that.
“But I do want to say, if you decide to actually come over and show her a good time, there are rules to that.”
Sunghoon quirks a brow, unsure of if his mind is running in a way that will let him take down mental notes.
“First of all, she’s protected so as long as you can provide proof of your test you can cum in her all you want, she likes that but, you’re not touching her ass.”
Sunghoon nods, shrugging nonchalantly and surprised he even responded that way.
“She likes it rough but she doesn’t know you well enough yet. Don’t slap my wife, don’t grab her neck with the intention of choking her, and don’t call her any type of degrading name. Not yet, at least.”
Wow, his brain is actually taking down the mental notes perfectly. Even with these rules, he’s not entirely into hitting the person he wants to be inside of, not unless they ask anyway.
“That’s it. Those are the rules.” Jongseong says with a shrug, taking another drink and tapping his foot on the floor. “What about you? For possible future endeavors, what’re your terms?”
There’s a long pause. Sunghoon is totally unprepared to make rules for a situation he’s never even been involved with before, but he does his best.
“Well,” He breathes out, blowing a strand of his fringe up from his forehead in a huff. “I don’t know. Don’t put anything in my ass?”
“Well, that’s sucks,” Jongseong deadpans, then nods. “But fair, okay. What else?”
Sunghoon continues to let his eyes wander around his living room as he thinks of things he doesn’t like sexually.
“I really don't know. I’ve mostly just had normal sex. I can tell you what I do like?” He admits, knowing that all of this is just in case.
“Alright, go on then.” Jongseong nods, now topping off their drinks.
It’s actually hilarious to him, hearing Sunghoon list off the most mundane sex acts. He does his best not to chuckle at the mention of “blow jobs, I like those.” Instead, he offers something along with that, interrupting him.
“Ever been deep throated?” Jongseong asks, watching Sunghoon breathe in because it’s like he lost all of his breath trying to list off things he likes. “Like, you know, ever face-fucked?”
Sunghoon nods, then shakes his head, then nods.
“ I mean, my ex never really let me hold her head in place, but I tried once. And don’t even get me started on the way she would refuse to continue if she gagged even once.”
Jongseong shakes his head in pity.
“Man, you’re gonna love my wife.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Well, to put it lightly, Sunghoon might, definitely, insanely, obsessively be in love with you. Not in like the “leave your husband” way but more in like the “i want you so bad and know that i’m allowed to have you if i’d just stop being a little bitch about it” way.
It’s been another entire week since Jongseong came over to discuss things with him and even more so now, is Sunghoon’s mind in the gutters. He’s thankful he’s good at his job, almost able to do everything needed without much thought behind it because if that weren’t the case, he would probably be fired by now.
Fired for being too horny at work isn’t something he ever considered would happen to himself, and though it hasn’t and probably won’t, he isn’t too shocked at this point to be learning more and more about these hidden little interests that only came to light when he met you and your husband.
Those blinds do stay open, and that little bedside lamp in your bedroom has become one of his favorite things. One, because it illuminates the way your body moves when Jongseong inevitably fucks the breath out of you, and two, because it’s actually kind of a nice lamp.
And god, his window. His poor fucking window. Four out of the seven nights since Jongseong came over has he been standing right there, blinds open, getting himself off. He knows he’s a pervert by this point. He embraces it now, knowing for a fact that you’re also embracing it, and even Jongseong is too.
The embarrassment that hits him after each time he releases hurts much less than the post-nut guilt of all that porn he was watching before all of this happened. He’s not sure why, but there’s something inside of him that tells him it’s because he’s wanted. He’s being fawned over by an entire married couple and it makes his confidence go through the fucking roof.
That second time he stood at his window, he was still unsure of it. But now, three more sessions later, he finds himself considering the offer of being in the room. Each time he thinks he should do it. You know, like release his cock mid-jerk off session just to run next door and barge into the room to bury himself inside of you, all while Jongseong allows it to happen and praises him for manning up to do it.
He hasn’t yet though, because most of the time he struggles to pull his eyes away from how fucking good the two of you look together. And you know, to him, when he thinks about actually being in that room with the two of you, there’s still some shame left in him about it.
Something about the idea of joining a married couple despite how much he loves watching them, the idea of them asking him multiple times to work his body on you, the idea of them leaving their blinds open just so he can get off at his own volition.
It’s such an insane fantasy come to life and the shame he feels about actually following through stays despite it wavering with each time he watches and listens in by calling you himself to hear you moan.
Again, by now, an entire week later and several sessions of pure voyeurism, he questions that shame and wonders how much it’ll take to ignore it. Next time for sure he’s going to go over there. Next time, he’s going to put that shame to rest like he did the first time with simply watching.
That next time doesn’t happen though, because you’re not wandering around your room naked for Sunghoon to see when his alarm goes off. Because yeah, it’s kind of a ritual now to look out the window and nod a little “good morning” to you and your tits.
When he looks outside near the afternoon, both cars in your driveway are gone and it hits him over how fixated he is on the two of you. It feels almost empty seeing the two of you gone on a weekend, when Jongseong is usually texting him to see if he wants to hang out.
By this point for him, yes, come over please.
Then, relief washes over him when he hears Jongseong’s car pull into the driveway. The amount of pining within Sunghoon at this moment is driving him insane. It’s only four in the afternoon by this point and his mind is reeling. Going miles a minute and honestly, he needs this overwhelming feeling to be eradicated.
He needs to do it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jongseong is shocked as he sits eating his dinner to the sound of a knock at his door. He’s swift when he stands to his feet and answers it.
“Oh, was gonna text you to hang out after dinner–” He pauses, realizing this is the first time Sunghoon has ever been on his doorstep save for when he greeted them with a meal after he moved in. He eyes him up and down momentarily before smirking. “Well, well, well.”
Sunghoon doesn’t quite make eye contact as he stands there and shoves the proof of his tests into Jongseong’s chest, already regretting the decision to come over without so much as texting.
“Showing up looking like this, already hard too?” Jongseong says snidely, glancing at the results and leaning himself against his door frame. His eyes stare directly at Sunghoon’s obvious raging hard-on beneath his pants, then he glances up at his face.
Sunghoon appears to be both ashamed and proud, presenting himself like a damn virgin.
“Relax, it’s cool. You can come in,” Jongseong finally says, trying to ease the tension that seems to be festering within his friend. “I’ll call and see if she’s coming home tonight.”
Sunghoon is fucking mortified. Of course he’s bad at timing. Of fucking course he shows up ready to fuck and you’re not even here. Now he’s just left standing just inside of the front door with a desperate and pathetic cock that, for some reason, still isn’t even going down.
“She’s. not. here.” Sunghoon says to himself loud enough for Jongseong to throw a laugh at him, putting the phone up to his ear after pressing the call button.
“She went to see her parents. I bet the second I tell her you’re standing there like that, hot ‘n hard, she’ll be running red lights.”
Sunghoon is flushed. Entirely aroused by this whole situation despite the embarrassment. The last thing he needs to admit to right now though, is getting off on the shameful way he’s acting. He knows he looks desperate, and that…for some reason, makes him feel proud.
He’s so in his head that he doesn’t even hear Jongseong talk to you. Completely misses the way he says into the phone “hey babe, guess who is standing in our living room right now? so hard it looks like he might cry.”
Totally misses the brief pause and then Jongseong’s response of, “yeah, you might wanna rush.”
Luckily for him though, he’s so in his head that time flies as he tries to will his length to go down just a little bit. It’s frustrating, really, to only learn certain things as they happen to him, but like, damn. He really feels like he’s about to burst already, just standing here with a woman’s husband who is knowingly about to let him fuck her.
“You’re not usually this quiet.” Jongseong finally says to Sunghoon, who is still just standing there in the living room. “You nervous?”
Sunghoon instantly nods, throwing his hands in front of his hard-on and looking at Jongseong.
“This is the worst, actually,” Sunghoon starts, shifting from one leg to the other and glancing away. “Fuck you guys for being so enticing.”
Jongseong shrugs proudly, offering a smile and then nodding his head as if to invite Sunghoon to sit on the couch.
“She’ll be here soon, I’m just going to clean up. Don’t think too hard and take off running, she’s excited.”
Sunghoon nods reluctantly, taking a seat on the couch and staring up at the ceiling in defeat. Jumping out of a window sounds pretty nice but by this point he assumes every window he will ever touch probably has his cum on it by now. You know, association and stuff.
Then, he hears a car pull up and he’s practically throwing himself to his feet. His balance turning him into a clumsy mess, totally forgetting how to navigate his body and entirely losing the ability to know how to navigate this entire situation.
The good news for him though, is that you practically jump out of your car and sprint for the door. Not even greeting Jongseong when you rush inside and kick off your shoes.
All Sunghoon knows is that, one second he stands to his feet and gets a head rush, then he hears a door slam, Jongseong letting out a breathy laugh, and then you slamming into him and practically knocking him back down onto the couch.
“All this time you made me watch? And now you show up when I’m at dinner with my parents.” You playfully scold him, immediately straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands so that he can look at you. “You’re going to have to tie me up if you don’t want me to be all over you right now.”
Sunghoon looks at Jongseong with a stunned expression, receiving a simple shrug in response.
“You want her to touch you?” He asks, heading for the bedroom and raising his voice to continue. “If not, I do have rope.”
Sunghoon looks at you, still totally stunned by how fucking fast you got on top of him. He’s rendered more speechless than you’ve ever made him, and his cock twitches painfully from the sensitivity of you sitting on top of him.
He nods politely, dipping his head and looking down.
“You can touch me.” He whispers, only to be cut off by Jongseong shouting from the bedroom.
“You guys gonna come into the bedroom, or?” He yells, peeking around the corner and shooting a look at you specifically, as if to remind you to pace yourself considering that Sunghoon is entirely new to this and still seems like a deer in the headlights.
You nod to Jongseong and then lift Sunghoon’s face back up to you again.
“I can tell your heart is racing,” You say to him in a fond tone, tilting your head playfully. “It’s okay, come on.” You add, pulling yourself off of him and grabbing his hand.
He stares at the way you intertwine your fingers. Feeling like if he thinks hard enough, you’re not married and you’re more into him than just sex. Then again, he doesn’t want to think about that at all. The whole reason he’s so turned on is because this is considered strange to most people he knows. He doesn’t even want to be in love, he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with any single person right now.
What he wants is this. What he wants is to watch you through his window, and lust over you, and then get to have you. Time and time again. What he wants is for Jongseong to always share you with him, because he can barely cross his own boundaries, better yet crossing someone else's.
At least with him, you’d be safe. Jongseong wouldn’t have to worry about broken rules or him coming into your home to take full control. This isn’t his relationship, it’s yours, and if the two of you want him involved even with just sex, he’s leaping for the opportunity at this point.
There, he’s led into the bedroom where Jongseong looks at him with a fond expression. Sunghoon stares for a moment, then looks around the room. It feels like he’s been pining to be in this very room for ages, and knowing he’s standing here right now feels even more overwhelming.
He glances at the window, looking through it into his own open blinds and the embarrassment hits him twice as hard, which obviously has his cock aching in arousal. He isn’t even ashamed of the little, breathy whimper of defeat he lets out at this moment, rolling his eyes back and furrowing his brows.
You let go of Sunghoon and take your place beside Jongseong, both of you checking Sunghoon out from head to toe before looking at each other and smiling.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Jongseong admits, feeling defeated that for the first time in his sex life with you, he doesn’t know how to get the ball rolling. “Why does this feel so intimate compared to usual?”
You laugh, now staring down both of them, wanting nothing more than to fuck and be fucked. The air in this room feels electrifying, and already you have goosebumps rising against your skin. It feels like heaven.
“Probably because he’s so close to home,” You chuckle, feeling totally in control with two lost men staring at you as if they want to eat you alive. “Isn’t that right, Sunghoon?” You say, taking a step towards him and already lifting your shirt off of you.
Just as quickly as Jongseong loses his ability to be the one in control, he gains it back after seeing how confident you are. He knows for a fact how badly you want to be on Sunghoon right now, and he has no qualms with that, but part of the fun is being able to present you until the third in the room is practically drooling.
“Not too quickly,” Jongseong warns, pulling you back by the arm and wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head down to kiss your neck and look Sunghoon directly in the eye. “Just look at him for a bit.”
Sunghoon feels so fucking seen right now, his cock still wildly twitching at each word and glance. He very nearly falls to his knees right then, because in all fairness he’s been rock hard all fucking day and intentionally held off so that he would be so out of his mind, that surely he’d fuck you as good as you need him to.
“Jongie, I’ve been watching him.” You say, leaning against his warmth and devouring Sunghoon with your eyes, “C’mere, Hoonie.” You add, giving both men shortened versions of their names to show your adoration for them at this moment.
Sunghoon manages to take a step forward without his knees buckling from under him, his eyes scanning your bare torso and the way your chest is hidden by your bra. He can’t not stare, after all, he’s grown accustomed to it by now. He knows what's under that bra and what’s under those pants, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s never seen your body this close. He’s never touched you before.
“Well?” Jongseong looks at him as he makes his way across the room a bit too slowly for his liking. “We have all day, technically.”
Sunghoon switches his eyes over to Jongseong, who seems amused by how enamored he is right now with you. His mind is fairly blank right now, outside of thinking about everything he wants to do, everything he wishes he could say, but still, all he can manage to do is stand in front of you, still not reaching out. He looks at the way Jongseong has you locked in his arms, holding you still against his chest as if to tame a beast from him.
“You’re so pretty, Sunghoon, really.” You say, blinking up at him and tapping Jongseong to loosen his grip on you. “You can touch me too, you know.”
He’s still reluctant, looking to Jongseong once again for confirmation and receiving a nod. His hands reach out, touching nothing more than your bare shoulder before sliding down your waist and stepping even closer.
You can feel the warmth radiating off of them as they sandwich you there between them. Jongseong and his confident breaths behind you easily contrast to Sunghoon’s deeper, nervous breathing. You kind of get now why your husband told you to just watch for a little bit longer. Sunghoon is so readable, with the way his eyes can’t find where to land, the way his hands know where they want to go but he clearly holds back from doing too much too soon out of fear that this entire agreement will shatter before his very eyes.
You hum out happily, leaning your head back against Jongseong and pressing your hips forward, against Sunghoon. Feeling entirely loved, wanted, needed.
“I missed this feeling,” You sigh out with a pleasured smile, throwing an arm out and over Sunghoon’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. “I bet you’ll miss it too. I bet you’ll keep coming back for it.”
Jongseong hums as well, nodding his head in agreement before blinking over at Sunghoon and lifting a brow. He wonders how long they’re going to stand here staring at each other so, rolling his eyes dismissively, he presses on.
“I want to watch you eat her out.” Jongseong announces, feeling that it’s not too out of the ordinary to make suggestions since Sunghoon appears to be totally blinded by your tits right now anyway.
Sunghoon nods with empty eyes, shortly before you see him physically break out of his presumed trance and take a step back, very nearly tripping over his own feet.
“Wait, really?” He asks, somehow still unsure that this is a thing that’s actually happening as he regains balance.
“Oh, absolutely.” Jongseong encourages him, using the emptied up space in front of you to maneuver you over to the bed.
Sunghoon watches as your husband sits you down on the bed, grabs two pillows and places them behind you, then shimmies your pants off of you in a very loving way. He doesn’t know whether to be jealous of Jongseong for being able to love someone enough to pleasure them using others or to be jealous of you for being loved so blatantly.
“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, tapping your legs to spread them out and taking a step back to make room. “Go on.”
Sunghoon’s legs take him there before his brain can think twice. One second he’s looking at you from the angle of the center of the room, the next he’s falling to his knees, staring straight between your legs at the point of his lust for the last however long. Slender fingers gripping your thighs much the same way Jongseong did the first night he saw the two of you together like this.
It continues to hit him like a freight train. He’s here. He’s doing this. Not even a year ago he was sleeping in a different place, with a fiancée, making calls to find venues for a fucking wedding, and now he’s here. Between the legs of another man’s wife, at his request.
Why is he so pleased with the drastic change of events? Why is his mouth watering looking at the small damp spot seeping through your panties? Why does he feel like he isn’t even himself at this moment?
None of it matters, not when you reach out and run your fingers through his hair to urge him forward. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose because it’s been a long time since he felt the loving touch of another person in his hair like this.
It’s been a long time since he’s felt the warmth of a woman in front of him, and even longer since he last felt this drunk on the atmosphere around him. Your soft fingers scratch against his scalp, and that alone makes his entire body shiver as he nuzzles against your thigh lovingly, leaving his kiss against your skin for the first time.
Jongseong watches, not entirely used to a man acting like this with his wife. Usually, they’re already trying to get their cock inside of her, but Sunghoon seems to be basking in the touch and feel of it all through each step and in a way, he understands. He was with someone for six years and planned to spend his life with her, he can imagine this is something Sunghoon missed doing, despite the bitch not even wanting to gag on him.
He feels fond watching the two of you, situating himself on the bed and letting you lean up against him. There, he starts to work your bra off of you, matching Sunghoon’s slowly paced arousal.
You, on the other hand, feel like your body is catching fire. That little gentle kiss against your thigh was followed by several more, peppered up to your panty line, down to your knees, and then right back up before he even thinks about leaving a kiss against the seat of your panties.
Which, he does eventually get to doing. Jongseong watches your body jolt at the touch. He can tell you’ve been anticipating it since Sunghoon got on his knees but knows you’re both pacing yourselves for the sake of him being able to enjoy himself.
Jongseong’s hands do remain on your tits through it, massaging and pinching against your nipples until they’re erect and sending jolts of sensations straight to your clit. Thankfully, Sunghoon appears to be preparing himself to see your arousal up close and personal by this point, keeping his lips right up against it as his fingers toy with the hem of your panties.
He looks up at you, still searching for confirmation on instinct and can’t help but feel that the green light was given the second he moved into the house next door with the way you both look at him.
You’re not the only one being loved on right now. He feels entirely taken care of simply for being able to go down on you, and he wants nothing more in this world than to make you feel good.
So, he does his best. Reaching his arms forward and gripping the sides of your panties before gently pulling them down. He watches as your, by now very wet, panties unstick from your folds as he reveals it to himself and honestly, he doesn’t even care at this point with how he blatantly moans over it.
And just as you thought he was going to take his time like before, it’s like your entire world is flipped upside down. You take in a sharp and surprised inhale at the way he’s got his tongue on you the second your panties hit the floor.
Jongseong chuckles at your surprise, internally praising Sunghoon for that sudden jolt of confidence he must have gotten to do that after unintentionally teasing you for far too long. He can feel your nipples react to what he’s doing, and through the sound of Sunghoon’s tongue, his groans through the taste of you, even he feels like he’s going insane just sitting with you against him like this.
“Ah, fuck,” You moan out, feeling the way his tongue leaves no part of your pussy unexplored. “Fuuuck.” You continue, totally speechless and unable to praise him the way you’d very much like to right now.
When you run your fingers through his hair again, feeling the way he moves his head beneath them, the way he stiffens his tongue as he slides it up your entire pussy, then lands on your clit and begins to flick his tongue at such a pace? You can’t help it when your legs nearly close in on him, shaking against his ears.
Jongseong is there though, quickly reaching down to hold your legs open for him.
“Sensitive?” He gleefully whispers to you, watching the way you grip Sunghoon’s hair in your fingers through the obvious struggle. He knows you won’t answer, which is fine, because he loves when you get like this. Though it’s never through a man simply giving you some good head.
Sunghoon continues his assault with his tongue, so drunk on the taste of you that all he can do is keep going. Keep tasting, flicking your clit until it’s swollen before sliding back down again and burying his tongue inside of you as deep as it’ll go. Like he can’t get enough, especially with the way your hips wiggle to get away, with the way your fingers try to weakly tug his head away from you.
He hopes this is exactly what Jongseong wanted to see, because he couldn’t be happier to fulfill the request. Moaning into you only to breathe nothing but you back in. His cock still neglected from a full day of arousal, tasting you alone is soaking his pants. Never has he felt so desperate for something. Never.
Even when he can feel the bed shift and your legs close around his head again, he continues.
“Hold her legs open for me,” Jongseong instructs as he pulls himself off of the bed, now seemingly so aroused that he feels the need to involve himself. He shimmies off his clothing and props himself back up on the bed, directly next to you and easily holding his length to bump against your slacked and moaning mouth.
You readily accept your husband into your mouth. Instantly taking him as deeply as you can out of sheer arousal. Wanting to do the dirtiest things your brain can come up with solely because of how good everything feels right now. Jongseong loves it, especially with how greedy you seem as you furrow your brows and will yourself to take more into your mouth.
“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, reaching over to tap his hand that’s putting his obvious strength to use against your thighs to get his attention. “Look.”
Sunghoon does, after sliding his tongue back up and flicking your clit several more times to get those satisfying shakes of your body in reaction. His eyes trail up as he finally takes a breath of fresh air, only now realizing that you’re both entirely naked.
“If you keep coming back,” Jongseong starts, moving his hand to caress your cheek before holding the back of your head in place. “this” he punctuates with a hard thrust into your mouth, gagging you. “is what you have to look forward to.”
Sunghoon watches as Jongseong holds your head there, continuously gagging, and then he glances down to your pussy and goddamn. You’re clenching around nothing each time you gag, and the moans you’re letting out along with your gags sends him over edge. His tongue is immediately back on you, satiating that clench with his tongue as best he can.
The sound of Jongseong’s ever expected fond reactions goes unnoticed by Sunghoon as he puts his entire fucking soul into eating you out.
Thankfully, you’re able to breathe shortly after, kind of. Save for the fact that when Sunghoon’s isn’t knocking the breath out of you, Jongseong is stealing it by blocking your airways with his length and moaning all the same.
The entire room sounds so erotic, and everything still feels like it’s on fire. Your sensitivity subsides as your focus falls to pleasing your husband, leading your hips to chase Sunghoon’s hungry tongue anywhere it goes.
It stays like this for a few minutes, all three of you seemingly lost in each other before you feel your husband lean over, allowing you to take care of his cock without his help and sliding his fingers straight to where Sunghoon’s tongue is.
There, he easily slides them in, and still, Sunghoon doesn’t stop. It doesn’t phase him one bit. His tongue continues, working around Jongseong’s fingers and sometimes even licking around them to taste the arousal that seeps from deep inside of you. By now though, he’s humping up, wanting more, more, more. Your hips chase his tongue and your husband’s fingers the same way his hips chase nothing.
Jongseong only likes him more by this point. Even the times they have been with curious men, typically they’re not licking your pussy and his fingers. Sunghoon is so peculiar about this, and arguably his lack of experience is what’s making this feel so fucking magical. His attention doesn’t appear to be divided between the both of you, nor does it even appear to be solely on you like he thinks it is.
He’s treating you both as if you’re one person, one soul, and appears to accept anything either of you offer as long as you feel good and Jongseong is satisfied with how things are going.
Never has their bedroom been this silent of words either, especially when someone else is involved. There’s always crude words, but at this point all three of you seem to understand that you’re experiencing rather than trying to put on a show. You’re not competing, you’re not rushing for the finish line, you’re just…fucking. Existing within pleasure together.
“He’s a natural.” Jongseong compliments, sliding his fingers up and out of you only to slide them into Sunghoon’s mouth. The man accepts them too, sucking your wet off of his fingers with a pornographic groan at the warmth and taste of them. “Wonder what else he can do?”
You smile when you pull off of Jongseong’s, now leaking, cock and look down at Sunghoon. He’s already looking up at you, lips glistening much like his eyes are as he plants more kisses up your body. Solely because Jongseong practically hides your entire pussy with the palm of his hand from him as a hint to move his hungry assault elsewhere.
He does, happily. He’s satisfied even as he kisses up your belly and feels like he doesn’t need to ask to plant those same glistening lips against one of your nipples and fondle it with his tongue just as beautifully as he did with your clit.
He leaves space for Jongseong’s hand when he moves up, trying to be careful to avoid his hard on brushing against anywhere where it’s not wanted, which doesn’t seem to be much of an issue because Jongseong pulls his hand back shortly anyway, pulling off of the bed and studying the two of you.
You hug Sunghoon’s head while he worships the chest he’s stared at from his window day after day. Jongseong can clearly see how shy Sunghoon is, but he still seems to be doing everything in a way that makes you both love it. At this point, it wouldn’t even matter what he does, he knows you’d go insane over it, and that’s enough for him to allow it.
He can’t help himself when he leans over you to kiss you, seemingly so in love with you, careful not to accidentally bump Sunghoon’s head from your tit and probably cause some sort of huff or pout out of him.
“Lay him back.” Jongseong whispers to you through his kiss, pinching your chin to keep your lips on his for a few moments longer before letting you go.
The way your eyes shine, and the way Sunghoon’s tongue seems to never tire, you’re almost sad to pull him off of you. But you do, nonetheless, guiding him to stand to his feet and finally running your hands up his torso to urge his shirt off of him.
You stare at his abdomen, touching and feeling each dip of it. His arms are just as nice and toned, and god damn is his cock huge. You could tell from the window, and you can tell here, even while it’s clothed.
“Off.” You say, tugging him forward by his jeans and sitting yourself up.
He laughs awkwardly at the movement, looking between the two of you and honestly, damn. You’re both so fucking beautiful right now. He’d be delighted to take these pants off, and he does.
Shortly after, you instruct him to lay back on the bed and he’s only getting more and more comfortable with the situation. Doing exactly as instructed, not even embarrassed by his angry and heavy cock twitching in near pain to be touched.
“God, look at him.” You groan, now moving yourself on the bed to lean on one elbow and trail your fingers up his abs.
His entire body twitches at the touch, and he winces just a little bit with a sexually frustrated huff.
“Should I fuck him?” You ask, looking up at Jongseong, who was actively already fisting his length shamelessly at all of the ideas he has in his head that you could to do Sunghoon, or of what Sunghoon could do to you.
“Do you want to?” Your husband retorts with an aroused moan following shortly after, looking over to Sunghoon and watching the way he straight up nods shamelessly and practically grabs you by the arm to pull you on top of him.
“So eager,” You laugh, throwing your leg over him and instantly seating yourself directly on his cock. Feeling how huge it is, how hard it is.
Sunghoon moans at that alone, hands shooting to your waist and squeezing so hard that you know it’ll leave a painful sensation later.
“Go on then, fuck him.” Jongseong says, amused with how badly this man wants it.
And you do, without much more of a warning. You lift yourself and expertly slide straight down on his pathetic cock. You watch Sunghoon as you do it, struggling to breathe through the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his length and attempting to adjust to his size.
Sunghoon runs his own fingers through his hair now, trying to keep himself grounded by the feeling he’s missed out on for so fucking long. He lets out a deep half-sobbed moan, cursing at the feeling and nearly tearing up at how fucking tight you are.
“Shit,” Sunghoon grits his teeth, holding your waist still as if to keep you from moving, then he’s wrapping you in a hug and pulling you straight down against his chest.
Jongseong skews his head, taking a step closer to see how well Sunghoon fits inside of you and damn. Your pussy is clenching every passing second trying to adjust, and his entire body is reacting to it. Naturally, Jongseong has no choice but to grip his cock harder at the scene, biting back his own desperate moan so that he can still appear to be collected about this.
As you lay in Sunghoon’s arms though, the harsh hold of him keeping you in place, you can’t help but sigh at the searing stretch inside of you. And he, on the other hand, is being driven crazy by the smell of your hair. Honestly, the scent alone is driving him wild enough that it’s a struggle to keep his own hips from writhing with the need to stretch your pussy out more.
“Keep him still while you make room for me.” Jongseong finally chokes out. “Don’t let him cum.”
You breathlessly nod, trying to press yourself up from Sunghoon’s heaving chest just to grip onto his shoulders and bounce against his desperate attempts to stop you. He gives in after the second bounce though, going from trying to hold you down on him to loosening up and almost helping you bounce.
“That’s it, that’s exactly what she wants–” Jongseong compliments, running his fingers up your back and making you shiver. “Right, babe?”
You try to answer, but you moan out instead with the way Sunghoon’s hands keep you bouncing at such a pace that your g-spot is being repeatedly fucked against. And when he moves his hands to your ass, he loses himself to the pleasure as his eyes darken even more, fucking up now, deeper into you when you slide down on him.
“So deep,” You nearly sob out, hands reaching out for Jongseong somewhere behind you, and he’s quick to be there for you.
“I know, baby.” He asks, leaning onto the bed to kiss against your face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Sunghoon moans before you can, sinking his head further into the pillows and letting himself get lost in the feeling of you bouncing on him. Jongseong was right about this before, you do get wet. Fucking soaked.
“You can take more, baby.” Jongseong says to you now, seemingly ready to give you more than either of you know you can handle.
Still, you nod, knowing exactly what he’s wanting to do. You adjust the way you bounce, now leaning onto Sunghoon’s chest so that his cock slamming into you is on full display for Jongseong.
“Slow down for a second, Hoon–” Jongseong says, liking the nickname well enough to use it himself. “Let me show you what sharing feels like.”
And holy fuck, Sunghoon is not prepared for it. He’s shocked that you’re wanting it, with the way you pant out breathless, pained moans against his collar bone as Jongseong makes attempts to stretch you out more than you already are.
Sunghoon holds onto those little pants, feeling your hands grip against his body as your husband nudges the head of his cock inside, causing both of you to cry out with a desperate sound.
Inch by inch, Jongseong works himself in, holding his breath and soothing your back throughout the process, up until he’s managed to fit about as much as he can into you and thrusting forward just once to test the waters.
“Shiiit–” He moans through a laugh, pulling out and thrusting in again, harder. “So tight.”
The reaction is more than Jongseong could ever have wanted. Both of you, clinging to each other through the overwhelming sensation. Sunghoon, probably overly sensitive from the feeling of your pussy gripping him and Jongseong’s cock massaging the underside of it as he chases his own pleasure. Then there’s you, constantly clenching to adjust, letting out little pleased cries that only get prettier and prettier, especially when they’re mixed in with Sunghoons.
At this point, Jongseong can barely tell which one of you is moaning, but it’s all the same to him and he begins to do the work for all three of you. Loving the way he’s managed to make his wife and another man fall apart beneath him.
“God, you both love it.” He says, knowing for a fact that you’re both too gone by now to hear him. Which is good, because he can’t hold his own moans in anymore.
So, he doesn’t. He grips your hips to hold you in place and continues to thrust, feeling your pussy relax with each thrust until even Sunghoon is able to fuck up slightly. And for you, feeling both cocks sliding into you opposite of each other, you really can’t comprehend a single thing outside of pleasure right now.
You can hardly breathe, so talking isn’t entirely on your agenda, still though. You try.
“Fuck, fuck–” You breathe out, gripping even tighter onto Sunghoon now.
“So fucking wet,” Jongseong soothes, offering a harsher thrust now that he’s beginning to lose himself to the feeling too.
“So fucking, big–” You say, mostly into Sunghoon’s ear despite your husband having a good size as well. “Don’t stop. Fuck me open–” You moan to him, encouraging him to keep trying to fuck up.
Jongseong smirks at your hushed and out-of-breath words, you always get dirty when you’re super turned on. Plus, the way Sunghoon follows instructions is insanely sexy too.
In fact, he follows your instructions a little too well. Somehow, Sunghoon overpowers both your weight on him and Jongseong’s harsh thrusts. To the point that he actually has to stop moving his own hips because if he doesn’t, Sunghoon will get all three of you off within seconds if he keeps going at this pace.
“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” Jongseong moans in probably the most erotic voice you’ve ever heard come from him before. Because, never in your life alongside him have you heard him have to cut off his comments with a moan. “He likes it fucking rough.”
And he’s not lying. Part of you wonders if Sunghoon has ever been able to fuck this way, because even as you and your husband manage to find room to converse through this, Sunghoon is still gone and lost in his own world. Still holding onto you, and still fucking into you so hard that you’re very nearly releasing little yelps each time he bottoms out.
Jongseong, on the other hand, knows exactly how your body reacts when you’re getting close. Usually knowing before you do, and he really does his best to keep his composure through this. He does his damndest to hold off, amazed that Sunghoon lasted past the first instance of you sinking down on him.
Shaking hands reach between you and Sunghoon, and you’re quick to sit up and lean back against Jongseong instead to let him have access to your clit. Despite his cock slipping out of you slightly, he can still manage to fuck a few inches in at this angle, and honestly it’s a welcome relief because if he continued any further, he worries your clit would be left long neglected by his brain malfunctioning in a sudden orgasm.
You smile in a daze as you stare down at Sunghoon, his eyes droopy and hooded when he opens them, but for the most part remaining closed and focused on fucking you as good as he can. And paired with the sensation of Jongseong rubbing your clit, you’re rendered useless in announcing that you’re close.
Thankfully, your lovely, amazing, and doting husband knows you as well as you know yourself.
“Keep going,” He breathes, out of breath and reaching his other hand up to hold one of your tits in his hand, lips going to your neck. “She’s close.”
Sunghoon lets out a choked moan at the same time you let one out, and instantly Jongseong pulls out with a pleased and frustrated moan.
“There you go baby,” Jongseong coos at you, now focusing solely on rubbing your clit with one hand and fucking his fist with the other. ”Squeeze him.”
God, you do, coming undone wrapped around his relentless cock, pulsing and shaking as Jongseong makes no attempt to ease the orgasm out of you. His fingers only circle your clit harder, and Sunghoon only fucks up harder.
“Fuck, Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, watching the man in awe. “How are you holding out right now?”
Sunghoon blinks up, his eyes totally lost to arousal and he continues to fuck into you far past your orgasm ending, loving the slide of how much wetter you got through it. He feels like he’s fucking half a year’s worth of himself into you, which is fair. Because he definitely is.
“Look at him babe, tell him it’s okay.” Jongseong continues, wanting Sunghoon to get off so that he can stop holding off on his own. It’s entirely insane how much self-control this man has.
Not even Jongseong himself could withstand this without losing a bit of self control, and yet, god. He really is the perfect third. The perfect neighbor.
This is an indication that Jongseong is about to go full cuckold and work at himself as you take what you want from Sunghoon, and you really do try.
Your legs shake around him as you continue to try and ride him, leaning down to hover over his lips in a faux first kiss to tell him to rest his hips, and he does, sighing out a little sound of relief as you take back the control.
He’s never been so fucking turned on in his life, and in all honestly, not even he knows how he hasn’t gotten off yet. He’s needed it all day. He’s needed it all his fucking life, it seems.
Jongseong studies the way your tired legs work, the pace slowing down minute by minute before he steps in. His control now fully regained as his orgasm fades and he can continue to instruct and enjoy without a wall of pure sex invading his actions. He releases his cock now, stilling your hips and pulling you off of Sunghoon.
The sound alone is somehow filthier than any porn he’s ever heard. Sloppy and wet, paired with Sunghoon’s frustrated groan at the loss of warmth.
“Hoon, take the lead.” Jongseong says, helping you to lay back and rubbing your thighs to soothe them, only moving you from the position because he knows you’re going to be sore tomorrow.
Sunghoon, of course, jumps into action immediately. Lifting from his spot and situating himself between your legs with ease. Now being able to see you under him, rather than hovering above him, he feels like he has all the power in the world to treat you right.
“Anything you want,” He says, already adjusting himself with your pussy and pressing in. “Anything, just tell me.”
You’re entirely endeared by his words and can’t help it when you pull him down in a huff and connect your lips to his for the first time. He melts into it, fucking his hips into you at a slower pace now, deeper, more lazily.
He’s smelling you and feeling you entirely, every sensation in the world he could ever want is being satiated right now, and he’s not ashamed to whine through it. Pumping himself into you until it hits him, all because you fucking kissed him.
So hard does it hit him, each thrust milking him entirely of his cum and not trembling once through it. His cock has been sensitive all day, this new sensitivity is welcome to him as long as you continue to lick into his mouth and scratch against his back like this.
It’s a given that he was a goner the second he got on top, and when he finally empties the last, impossible amount of cum into you, his ears pop and begin to ring.
“You guys look so cute–” Jongseong coos, helping Sunghoon out of you on wobbly legs before he leans down to scoop some of the mess out of you. “Now, you lay back too,” he adds, still toying with the cum dripping from you.
He does, relieved and thankful for the rest after that exhausting experience. He’s out of breath when he flops himself down next to you, turning his head slightly to look at you and how content you seem to be. It makes him feel content too, even without your lips against his.
There, Jongseong scoops some of that cum out of you and slathers his fingers with it, shuffling forward onto the bed to place himself between your legs now. Then, his fingers make their way over to Sunghoon.
“Taste it.” He says, wondering if Sunghoon will fight the idea of doing it.
Shockingly, he doesn’t. He opens his mouth with ease and sucks Jongseong’s fingers into his mouth for the second time. You watch, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the taste of himself mixed with you. You groan out, throat dry from the embarrassing amount of moaning before wiggling your hips.
“Patience, babe,” Jongseong says, not even glancing at you and keeping his eyes trained on the way Sunghoon eagerly licks his fingers clean before releasing his fingers and blinking over to you, and then up at him.
“You’re both going to fucking kill me.” Jongseong lets out, rolling his eyes before training them on you. “Gonna stuff this mess back into you, yeah?”
You nod obediently.
You’re so content, readily accepting your husband in his rightful place and basking in the familiar feeling of his length pressing inside of you. It’s a feeling you know, and a feeling you love despite having already been fucked open by both of them already.
At this point, it’s not even just arousal in the air. But like, a secret second thing that somehow feels more content than content.
Jongseong is in love with the way you look right now though, arguably so for Sunghoon too. With his fucked out face looking just as drowsy as yours does despite the sun setting when all of this started. It’s not as late into the night as it seems to feel, which is fine because time seems like it works differently at this moment.
“Kiss her,” Jongseong says, with a last gift to Sunghoon for fucking you so well. “Thank her.”
He does, because of course he does. He dips in so fast, cradling your face in the same delicate way he touched your thighs from before. Kissing you just as gently, all while Jongseong takes his time to slide into you with such a fulfilling pace that, honestly, if you will it hard enough, you could probably get off another three times if you wanted to.
But you don’t, putting that filthy side of you to rest as you allow your husband to take what he needs. His pace quickening much like Sunghoon’s kisses do, up until you’re bouncing up with each thrust of his hips, and Sunghoon is left chasing your lips. Up, down, up, down.
He chuckles into it, his teeth catching your bottom lip a few times before chasing your lips harder, all for Jongseong to admire from above.
And admire it, he does. Loving the way you kiss Sunghoon in a playful way compared to himself. There’s passion here, and it makes it all the more easy for him to work himself up to his own orgasm.
You’re not shocked at Jongseong’s silence through his own high. Pressing his hips so tightly against yours, trying to bury himself as deeply as he can go to release all of this tension inside of his body. You still feel as full as you did when they both were inside of you, but this is something entirely different. It’s Jongseong, and it still shows that he’s the one person on this Earth who knows you better than you know yourself.
He knows you love to feel his cock pulse inside of you, know you love when it dribbles down your thighs as you wobble to the bathroom, and now apparently, he knows you seem to love kissing Sunghoon through the entire experience. Clenching against his orgasm as if you were already willing to start over from the beginning.
And just like that, he pulls out and lays on the other side of you, stealing your lips from Sunghoon briefly and kissing you. Both out of appreciation and love.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The clean up was devastating. Poor fucking Sunghoon, never realizing that aftercare is like, a huge important factor to fucking that hard. Which only solidifies it to both you and your husband that he’s clearly never been given the sexual freedom he so needed.
The two of you exchange side eyes at the way Sunghoon expects to shower alone and take care of himself, despite walking straight into a wall on wobbly legs with sleepy, mostly closed eyes.
You help him to the shower, Jongseong allowing you to join him and clean him up as he sits just outside and waits to ultimately clean himself up this time. After all, Sunghoon was the one who fucked you senseless, the least he can do is learn how to clean up the mess and soothe your muscles.
Fortunately, he seems to be pleased to learn and eager to put his new knowledge to use. Standing there under the warm water with a blissed out little smile, hands gently caressing your sore pussy as if to soothe your sensitivity. Obviously, it doesn’t work that way but, you still give him credit for it.
By the time you’re done showering, Sunghoon is practically dead weight. Literally fucked himself to sleep, it seems, as Jongseong laughs out and nods to the guest room, which he already made up for him.
You help him to the room while Jongseong helps himself to shower, where puddles of water remain on the floor.
Apparently you and Sunghoon both share the trait of not using a towel to step on after a shower. Which is only more of a reason to like him.
Jongseong likes taking care of people.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
When Sunghoon wakes up the next morning, sunlight blaring through closed blinds, his half asleep brain realizes very quickly where he is.
He’s embarrassed again, but the content feeling in his chest replaces the heavy one he had been holding about the entire situation. He had fun. He liked it. No, he loved it. So much so that for the first time in his life, he’s needed to pass the fuck out immediately after.
And it’s not long after he wakes up, lying there in thought, that he hears a soft knock at the door.
You’re poking your head in, blinking over at him and admiring his sleep hair. Which isn’t too different compared to his sex hair, and you smile.
“Good morning,” You say, stepping into the room and revealing Jongseong close behind you. “Wanna go again?”
Sunghoon stares at you, and then at Jongseong and his smirk. You’re both fucking insane.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
pls reblog my works ;o; if you do? i love u. if u dont? whyyyyy not?
synopsis: when you make the mistake of telling your best friend that you’ve never reached an orgasm, he makes it his personal mission to make sure you get there.
wc: 7.5k
warnings: park sunghoon x fem!reader, sexual content, mdni, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, blindfold (hello), sensory deprivation, fingering, dry humping, oral f!receiving, lowkey kind of corruption kink, condescending hoon, praise kink, hoon is a secret yearner, pet names (baby, pretty/good/sweet girl, sweetheart), not proofread
roses thoughts… i’m ovulating #sorry
playlist: morning dew - beyoncé // human nature - madonna // cinnamon girl - lana del rey
The party’s been going on so long that the air has turned moist and the alcohol has begun to taste more like water instead of something dangerous.
Yunjins laughing at something next to you, her eyes half lidded and her limbs moving languidly. If it’s from the weed or the sheer gallons of vodka you’re sure she’s consumed tonight you aren’t entirely sure. What you are sure of though, is that you have definitely far surpassed the thin line between tipsy and black out drunk.
The weed makes your thoughts jumble together like some weird jigsaw puzzle, and every word that you manage to punch out takes way more effort then it probably should.
“But, seriously,” Jungwon starts, his words languid and low, “sex is kind of transactional. At least in this day and age.”
Yunjin attempts to smack his arm but instead she misses him completely and her hand lands between the couch cushions. She doesn’t bother moving it.
“That is sooo not true,” she drags out. “Sex is, like, sacred. Your body is a temple and all that bullshit.”
Jungwon laughs. “Maybe for other women, but I’m not sure if your body could be considered sacred anymore, Yunjin.”
She scoffs, her eyebrows furrowing in what might look like offense, but you know deep down she enjoys the easy banter her and Jungwon always seem to have. “Says the one who sticks his dick into anything that has a pulse!”
You are perfectly content to just listen to their conversation, as it would seem is Sunghoon.
You’d met Sunghoon your freshman year of university when you were still a small town girl in a city that felt way too big for you. He’d sat next to you in your freshman econ class and helped you around the city without so much as a whisper of a complaint, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since.
He’s always been the quiet brooding type, even when you’re around your mutual friends, and that’s become something you’ve found yourself finding comfort in more often than not. His presence is a consistent force in your life, and now that you’re nearing graduation and heading into unknown territory, it’s nice to have something so steady in your life.
That’s why you didn’t argue when he threw his arm around your shoulders and insisted you sit next to him. It’s why you didn’t argue when he offered you the blunt despite knowing you always get way too clingy when you’re high.
Sunghoon is your best friend. You trust him, and you know he feels the same way towards you.
You lean back into his arm, continuing to nurse the beer you’d had for the last hour. It makes your head feel warm and fuzzy in all the right ways, especially after whatever the fuck midterms had been. A disaster would be putting it lightly.
Sunghoon glances at you, his lips still enclosed around the blunt. He takes a drag of it, letting the end glow a bright orange before he pulls it away from his lips and offers it to you.
You accept it graciously, letting the smoke fill your lungs until you’re positive they’ll burst. You’ve never really been a big stoner, not like Ni-ki and Jungwon, but when you do let yourself indulge you always enjoy it.
Sunghoon watches when you exhale, his eyes following the cloud that forces its way from your lips and disperses around the room. For a moment, you think he almost looks impressed.
You laugh, your hand reaching out to shove at his chest gently. “What?” You ask.
He blinks, the movement slow, like he’s working overtime to process that you’d said anything at all. “What?” He echoes.
“You’re looking at me weird,” you mumble, dragging your eyes back to Yunjin and Jungwon. They’re still arguing over whether or not sex is transactional or whatever, and Ni-ki is just watching them like he can’t decide if he’s interested or if he wants them to shut up completely.
Sunghoon chuckles, the sound low and deep. You bring your gaze back up to him and watch as his lips curve up into that same lazy smirk he always seems to wear. Sometimes you wonder if that’s just his natural resting face.
“Was I?” He mumbles, choosing to play dumb.
You’re not in the right headspace to argue with him, so instead you just sigh and let yourself sink further into the curve of his arm. His thigh is right against yours, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against the thin lining on your tights. If it was anyone else, you’d probably feel a little self-conscious at being so close, but this is Sunghoon. He’s never shied away from physical touch, and at some point it just became another factor in your friendship.
The sound of your name forces your thoughts about Sunghoon to fade into the background, and when you look up Yunjin is staring at you like you’ve said something shocking. Which is weird, because you don’t remember saying anything at all.
“Huh?” You manage, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to work through the cloud in your mind.
Yunjin rolls her eyes but repeats herself anyway. “Do you think sex is transactional?” She asks before throwing a fiery glare at Jungwon. “Or is Jungwon just a grade A asshole?”
…Sex? She’s asking you about sex?
Usually you wouldn’t mind indulging in her less than ethical questions, especially when you’ve had a few drinks, but this one feels a little personal.
It’s not that you haven’t had sex, you have! Plenty of times actually, with a plethora of different men. Boyfriends, casual hook ups, one night stands – you’ve really done it all.
There’s just one teeny, tiny problem.
You can’t finish.
You used to blame it on the men you were seeing. They clearly had no idea how to please a woman and thus you were the one suffering for it. But then you’d tried to get yourself off with your hand and, well…nothing happened. So then you tried a toy and still – nothing.
It didn’t take you long to realize that it was clearly just something wrong with you. You’d self-diagnosed yourself as one of those unlucky women that simply couldn’t orgasm, and yeah, it sucked, but it was your life. How could you miss something you’d never even had anyway?
And it’s not like the buildup isn’t enjoyable, because it definitely is. It just never goes where you want it to, and you always end up feeling dissatisfied after. So you’d stopped trying completely after yet another failed attempt last year and that had been that.
You hadn't sworn off sex completely, you just stopped actively searching for it. And it was nice to not have to fake reaching your peak with every man that found his way into your bed, but that didn’t make the subtle jealousy you felt whenever Yunjin talked about her experiences disappear completely. It just made it more bearable.
You choose to just shrug, taking another sip from the bright red solo cup in your hand. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask that question.” You snort.
Yunjin raises a brow, genuine confusion washing over her features, before she seems to finally remember. “Ah,” she breathes, slumping back down into her seat. “Right. I forgot.”
Yunjin is the only person you’d confided in about your problem. She was supportive, of course, but she still sometimes told you that she thought it was all in your head. That you had some kind of mental block when it came to orgasming, but you couldn’t help but feel like that was a little silly. Why would your mind keep you from reaching what most women described as the ultimate pleasure? If it was, then that was just plain cruel.
The conversation starts to move on again, but Sunghoon glances at you and then swiftly brings it back around.
“Hold on,” he starts, eyebrows furrowed. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?” Yunjin asks.
He pulls his arm away from your shoulders and uses his now free hand to gesture between you and Yunjin. “That,” he insists. “You asked her her thoughts on sex and then just blew past it.”
Yunjin glances at you, meanwhile your cheeks suddenly feel like they're burning. Why does he even care what your thoughts on sex are? It’s a silly question, one that you’ll probably forget anyone even asked in the morning, and yet he’s choosing to focus on the one minute thing you said in the entire debate.
Which wasn’t even anything ground breaking! You just said you wouldn’t be the right person to ask, that was it.
So why is he taking such an interest in it?
“Um,” Yunjin starts, her gaze finding yours before returning to Sunghoon. “Why do you care?”
He doesn’t even falter like you’d expected him to. Instead, he leans back and pulls you closer into his side. “Am I not allowed to be worried for my best friend?”
You swallow and attempt to put some distance between you, but he doesn’t let you. If anything, he just pulls you even closer. All the way until you’re sure you can taste the remnants of cologne on his clothes and the weed on his breath.
“Sunghoon,” you laugh, the sound coming out more nervous than anything else. “It’s nothing. Don’t get so worked up about it.”
But he doesn’t seem to like that answer either. “So something happened?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s not that–”
“Then what?”
You pause, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. If you had all your inhibitions in check, you probably would’ve resisted telling him in such an open space. Because even though Jungwon and Ni-ki are trying to make it seem like they aren’t listening, you know they are. At least Yunjin doesn’t try to hide her nosiness.
You know that realistically Sunghoon is just worried for you, he is your best friend after all. You’d be worried for him too if he suddenly got weird when the topic of sex got brought up, but still, you wish you were admitting this to him somewhere with a little more privacy.
You lean back into the cushions, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. Sunghoon, always so in tune with your emotions, immediately reaches a hand over to smooth down your hair.
“What is it, sweet girl?” He asks, his voice lowered so that only you can hear him. “You know you can tell me.”
And that’s the thing, you do know. And it should be easy telling him, because you know it’s not like he’ll judge you. If anything, he’ll probably be more sympathetic towards you then Yunjin is.
But, still. There’s something about telling him that makes shame burn deep in your cheekbones.
You shrug, your fingers toying with the edge of your skirt. “It’s embarrassing.”
He grins, all teeth and crinkled eyes. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re something he has to handle with care. Not like you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions when it comes to her sex life – or lack of one.
“Nothing about you is embarrassing.”
That’s what finally breaks you. You sigh, words slightly jumbled together and voice so quiet you’re shocked he can even hear you. “I can’t,” you gesture with your hand lazily. “You know. Finish, or whatever."
He blinks. One moment passes, and then two. You’re on the verge of thinking you’ve somehow made him uncomfortable when suddenly he’s laughing like you’ve said something hilarious. “What?”
Yunjin tosses a pillow at him, but he just lets it hit him square in the chest and doesn’t spare her a glance. “It’s not funny, Sunghoon!” She defends. “It’s a serious condition.”
You roll your eyes, but you don’t have time to focus on her because Sunghoon is quickly invading your senses again. “I’m not making fun of you, baby,” he mumbles, lips dangerously close to your ear. “It’s just…cute. That’s all.”
It most definitely is not cute. It’s humiliating, if anything. The one thing you’re supposed to be able to count on your body to do for you, it refuses to. What kind of woman can’t even orgasm?
“No, it's not,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “It’s weird.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything to that, but you can tell something in his expression has shifted. He’s eyeing you now like you’re some kind of anomaly he wants to figure out. Like your condition is something that’s piqued his curiosity.
You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about that.
The night continues easily – everybody's too drunk or high to focus on whatever little blip it was you’d had. Even you forget about it after another round of drinks.
But Sunghoon doesn’t. He can’t.
Even when he goes to bed that night, every time he closes his eyes all he can see is you. His pretty little best friend. Sexually frustrated and somehow thinking there's something wrong with you.
To Sunghoon, that’s utterly absurd. Clearly these men you’ve been with don’t know how to handle you, and that’s not your fault! No, what you need is someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who will actually listen to what your body needs and doesn’t just chase his own pleasure.
What you need is…him.
And Sunghoon is a good best friend. He always has been. All he’d be doing is helping you, really. Just a friend helping out a friend.
Nothing more, nothing less.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖༄
The next week passes by just like it normally does. You go to class and try not to think about the fact that you definitely bombed your exams. Everytime you walk into a lecture, fear creeps up your spine at the thought of your teacher handing over a test with your name on it.
Sunghoon is there to help you through the anxiety though. He comes to your dorm every night with a bag of nerds gummy clusters and his laptop.
You always start the night exactly how you plan to. Sunghoon helps you study, you both pretend to give a fuck for an hour or two, and then you end up side by side in your bed watching reruns of your favorite sitcom. It’s a simple routine that you’ve come to cherish, one that you don’t even remember starting. It honestly felt like one day he’d started showing up and then he just…never stopped.
“You know,” you mumble, popping another cluster into your mouth. “I think we’ve watched this show so many times we could probably recite the whole thing.”
Sunghoon shrugs, his glasses hanging off of the bridge of his nose. He reaches up and pushes them back into place without a second thought. “Modern Family is a classic.”
You hum. Modern Family is a classic. “Yeah, true.”
You both lull into silence again after that, your eyes following the screen as one of the characters does something stupid. It makes you laugh despite the fact that you know it’s coming. Sunghoon lets out a huff of breath too, but he seems on edge.
His hand keeps fisting the sheet until his knuckles turn white, and he only does that when something's bothering him. He doesn’t even seem to be paying as much attention to the show as he usually does.
It’s like his thoughts keep wandering and he’s trying to make the stop.
It worries you. The last time you’d seen Sunghoon this anxious was sophomore year, right before he broke up with his girlfriend. He never told you why he did, just that something about the relationship didn’t feel right.
But, last you checked, he doesn’t have any girlfriends he’s wanting to break up with right now, which means something else is bothering him.
You nudge his shoulder gently, your eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask.
He blinks, his eyes glued to the laptop before they slowly slide over to you. “Hm?”
You huff out a laugh. “I said what’s wrong? You’ve been acting off ever since we turned the show on. Did something happen?”
You watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. He doesn’t move his gaze from yours, but for some reason you wish he had. He’s looking at you so intensely, eyes searching yours like they hold the answer to the meaning of life.
Sunghoon gets like this sometimes. It’s almost like he’s…holding something back. And whenever you question him on it, he usually just pats your arm and tells you not to worry your pretty little head about it. You stopped questioning it a long time ago.
But he doesn’t do that tonight. Instead, he lets his tongue drag over his lips, and you can’t help the way your eyes flicker down to the movement.
You’re not blind. You know your best friend is ridiculously handsome. You know plenty of girls have gotten jealous and wished that it were them in your place. But your relationship with Sunghoon isn’t like that, he’s just your friend.
Besides, even if you did want him like that, you’d never want to risk your friendship with him.
His lip's part for a moment, and then close, and then part again. “I…” He trails off, takes a deep breath, and then starts again. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
You raise a brow. When did you say something? You try to rack your brain, but you come up empty. You can’t recall anything you said that would be worth bringing it up again.
“Did I say something?”
His lips break out into a small smile, the curve threatening to reveal the tip of his fangs. “Do you not remember?"
You try to think back to anything you might’ve said, but still, you come up blank. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, expression scrunched in confusion. “Should I?”
Sunghoon is silent at that. He just looks at you, looks back down at his hands, and then straightens himself up so suddenly he feels like he’s towering over you in bed.
“If you don’t remember,” he murmurs, “then I’ll remind you.”
He leans on the tiniest bit closer, and suddenly it feels like all the air has been sucked from your lungs. You and Sunghoon have been close plenty of times before, but this feels different. This feels almost…intimate.
You swallow, your eyes widening the tiniest bit as you attempt to scoot closer to the headboard. “Hoon…”
“You told me,” he starts, his voice low in that sultry kind of way. “That you’ve never had an orgasm. That you can’t, actually.”
The memory dawns on you then. The party, the alcohol, the weed. You’d somehow unknowingly buried it all the way to the back of your mind without even realizing, and now you’re dealing with the consequences of your big mouth.
You wince. It’s almost embarrassing to hear the words coming out of Sunghoons mouth. Even though you know it’s true, that doesn’t make it any less humiliating.
“Oh,” you mumble. “I did?”
“You did.”
You clear your throat and attempt to look at least a little unbothered. “Well, it’s true so…you don’t need to bring it up again. It’s already embarrassing enough having my best friend know there’s clearly something wrong with me.”
His eyebrows furrow, and for a split second, he almost looks angry. Like the thought of you thinking there’s something wrong with you enrages him.
“Embarrassing?” He scoffs. “It’s not embarrassing. And there’s nothing wrong with you. You just haven’t been with the right kind of guys.”
You probably would’ve agreed with him if you hadn’t also attempted to get yourself there. You literally just cannot do it. It’s not the guys you’re with or anything like that, it’s just you.
“But that’s the thing!” You insist. Any shyness you might’ve had towards the topic before suddenly disappears. “It’s not just the guys. I can’t…I can’t finish on my own either.”
For what it’s worth, that looks like it genuinely makes Sunghoon pause. His eyes widen the tiniest fraction, his movements pausing before he resumes them.
“You can’t…” He glances down to your hands in your lap.
You roll your eyes, cheeks practically blistering. You’re positive your ears are the same color as a tomato at this point. “No, I can’t. It’s whatever. Can we just finish the show?”
But Sunghoon doesn’t back off. Instead, he reaches behind him and shuts the laptop completely, cutting off whatever noise it was making. He pushes it off of the bed, not even flinching when it clatters violently onto the floor.
“So, let me get this straight,” he starts. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve never had an orgasm? Like, ever?”
He knows you said at the party that you can’t finish, but he assumed you meant with other guys. Not that you can’t finish at all.
“Yep,” you say, popping the P. Your arms cross over your chest in frustration. You don’t understand why he won’t just let the topic go. Yunjin doesn’t even hound you this much about it! “I’m one of the only girls in the world who can’t finish. Are you done making fun of me now?”
He leans back slightly, his pupils suddenly dilated and his tongue sweeping over his teeth. The tension in the air builds quickly, until it feels like you’re definitely going to choke on it.
Slowly, Sunghoon crawls over until he’s seated right in front of you. He leans back on his heels, studying your face like you’re some kind of expensive art piece. Usually, you don’t mind when he looks at you. In fact, you bask in it. But this feels different. This feels almost hungry.
“You think that there’s something wrong with you?” He asks, voice hushed. Deep.
You swallow, suddenly feeling silly for even admitting that to him. But what other explanation is there outside of you being biologically engineered differently than how you were supposed to? Maybe your mother drank a cup of coffee when she was pregnant and now you’re being forced to suffer for it.
You shrug. “What other explanation is there?”
He brings a hand up to your calf, the tips of his fingers brushing over the skin lightly. The touch feels like ice against your warm skin, and you can’t help the way your breath nearly catches in your throat.
He doesn’t look at you, but you’re staring at him. At the curve of his jaw. The way his bangs fall over his forehead like he styled them to be that perfect. At the freckles dotting his soft skin.
You know your best friend is attractive. You’ve always known.
But this…there’s something about it now that makes your stomach twist with arousal.
His fingers pause at the bottom of your knee, his thumb rubbing soft circles into it. You’re suddenly thankful that you took the time to shave last night.
He shifts, leaning forward just enough that you can smell his cologne. “I think you just…haven’t listened to what your body wants. To what it needs.”
You scoff lightly, but it sounds forced. Honestly, you’re too focused on how his touch feels against your skin to even think about whatever it is he’s saying to you.
“I think I would know what I need.”
He shrugs, tongue flickering out to wet his lips before it slides back into his mouth. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
You pull your legs out of his grip and hug them towards your chest. He doesn’t look shocked when you do it — he just lets his hand land on the bed and looks up at you.
“Why are you bringing this up?” You ask. You hate that you can hear the way your voice sounds so quiet. Shy. You’ve never felt shy around Sunghoon.
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Just lets his gaze trail from your eyes down to your chest, to the curve of your hip and all the way back up to the plump of your lips.
He scoots closer slowly, and suddenly his chest is right against your calves. Breathing suddenly feels difficult – like a task instead of something you just do on autopilot. His very presence feels mind consuming.
He’s hesitant for only a moment, something flashing in his eyes, and then he’s tossing it out the window and speaking so clearly you’d almost think there were other people in the room.
“I want to help you.”
You blink. “Help me?”
“Yeah.” He says easily, like those five words hadn’t just changed the trajectory of your friendship in a way you hadn’t been prepared for. “We’re best friends, aren’t we? Best friends help each other.”
Your cheeks flush at the implication. There’s a line between helping your friend and doing something like that for them. This isn’t just him letting you borrow his notes, this is unexplored territory. This is your body, your pleasure – all of it in his hands.
You’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t excite you.
But Sunghoon is your best friend, you can’t do that with him. It’d be wrong, and it’d change your relationship completely. You don’t know if you’d ever even be able to come back from something like that. The idea in general sounds good, even if you’re positive he’s not going to change anything about your condition, but the consequences are too great. You can’t do it. You can’t.
Right?
“What?” You splutter, a nervous laugh forcing itself from your throat. “I’m sorry, are you telling me you want to help me,” you clear your throat, your voice lowering into a hushed whisper, “...orgasm?”
Sunghoon smirks, his canines on full display like he’s some type of predator. “Yeah, I am.”
You blanch, your eyes wide as you stare at him like he’s grown two heads. At this point, you think an extra extremity would probably be less shocking than the words coming out of his mouth.
“Absolutely not,” you say, arms forming an X across your chest. “That’s…I can’t do that with you. It would change too much. Besides, I already told you, I physically cannot do it. I really doubt you’re going to be the one to change that.”
Sunghoon leans back on his hands, his smirk widening just a fraction. Like he’s taking your words as some kind of challenge. It scares you and makes heat swirl in your abdomen just the same.
“So, you're scared?” He asks, tone light and teasing, but there’s an underlying smoothness to it that makes a chill crawl up your spine. “You’re scared that I’ll prove you wrong.”
“I’m not scared.” You scoff.
Sunghoon just shrugs. “You are, and that’s okay. If you want to go the rest of your life without having an orgasm, then that’s your prerogative."
Your eyes narrow at that. You know he’s just trying to rile you up to get what he wants, but you can’t help falling for it anyway. You aren’t scared of what he’ll show you, you just don’t want to mess up your friendship for something you’re positive isn’t possible. It doesn’t matter how big his fucking ego is.
“I’m not scared,” you repeat. “I just know that you aren't going to miraculously be the guy that suddenly helps me finish.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yes.”
His eyes bore into yours – challenging you. Teasing you. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows exactly how this is going to play out, even if you haven’t fully caught up to it.
He has to bite his cheek to keep his smile from getting any bigger. “Prove it then.”
“What?”
He leans forward again, his hands coming up to rest at the top of your knees. Slowly, he forces them apart and makes space for himself between your legs. He doesn’t move into it, just leaves it there like an unspoken promise. “If you really think I’m just going to end up like every other guy, then prove it to me. Prove me wrong.”
You know what he’s doing. You know he knows how competitive you can get. He’s trying to push you into the direction he wants, to mold you like clay into his hands. And you don’t want to fall for it, you really don’t.
But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you – all smug and so sure of himself. You’ve heard the rumors around campus, you know Sunghoons never shied away from his experience in the bedroom, but experience doesn’t matter for you. It’s just your biology.
And if he wants you to prove him wrong so fucking badly, then you will.
You don’t remember surging forward to kiss him – not until your teeth clash and he lets out the smallest sigh of approval. His hands are everywhere immediately – gripping the flesh of your hip, tracing up the line of your spine.
He kisses you like he’s been waiting for it, like he’s a man starving and you’ve depraved him from any sort of substance. His tongue slides into your mouth easily, and you let out the slightest whine at the feeling.
He groans, his eyes squeezing together tightly. For a moment, you almost think he’s in pain.
“Fuck, that’s right,” he mumbles against your lips. “Prove it to me, baby.”
You kiss him harder, saliva beginning to pool at the corners of your lips. Sunghoon licks it up without a complaint. In fact, you think he’d thank you for it if he could.
His hands under your shirt and onto your hips, rubbing circles into your skin, and then he’s dragging you onto his lap without breaking away from the kiss.
You gasp when you feel his bulge through his sweatpants, the imprint pressing right against your folds. He’s big, you can tell that without even seeing it. The thought of your best friend carrying that around makes butterflies fly somewhere in your stomach.
Sunghoon kisses you deeper, his tongue licking into your mouth. Your mind is spinning from the sensation, and he’s barely touched you outside of kissing. It makes you feel like you’re in high school all over again.
Most men don’t waste their time kissing you like this. They just give you a few pecks and then get right to work using you to chase their own high. It’s become something you’ve learned to expect. But Sunghoon is kissing you like it’s the main event – like he’s been waiting his entire life to do it.
Slowly, he uses his grip on your hips to grind you against his cock, and instant pleasure bursts low in your tummy. The fabric between you does little to dull the feeling of his tip nudging against your clit – if anything, it almost makes it all the more intimate.
“Fuck,” you sigh out, your hands gripping his shirt like you’re trying to ground yourself.
He lets out a chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Hm?” He hums, moving from your lips to your jaw. “You say something, Sweetheart?”
You bite on your lip to keep yourself from spitting some kind of insult at him. Of course he’s enjoying watching you fall apart from a few measly kisses. But that doesn’t mean anything. You still haven’t cum, and you’re positive you aren’t going to.
“Shut up,” you mumble. Your hands slide up from his chest to his hair, gripping his black locks as he sucks at the sensitive skin around your neck.
You can feel him smile against your skin, but he doesn't say anything else about it. Instead, he nips gently at your collarbone and then basks in the whimper it pulls from you.
His hips push up into yours again, and the feeling is enough to force your lips to part in pleasure. Hesitantly, you begin to grind into him on your own, your movements erratic compared to the preciseness of his thrusts.
He clicks his tongue, tightening his grip and forcing your hips to still. You immediately whine – completely forgetting that you’re supposed to be embarrassed – but he just shakes his head.
“Is that what you think pleasure is?” He asks, letting his fingertips drag across the bare skin of your stomach. “No wonder you can’t cum.”
You furrow your brows. You have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” You murmur, the word breathless and whiny. If the entire point of this is to bring you to your peak, you don’t understand why he’s forcing you to stop.
He licks his lips, and you can’t help but notice how red and raw they are. Completely kiss-bitten. It makes you proud that he looks just as wrecked as you’re sure you do.
“You’re not letting yourself get any actual build up,” he explains, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re chasing something that hasn’t even gotten the chance to form yet.”
You part your lips to respond, maybe fight back, but nothing comes out. Because that’s the closest thing you’ve ever got to an explanation as to why you can’t seem to do something everybody else can.
You swallow, your posture turning into a slight slouch. “I don’t understand.” You admit quietly.
You’re half expecting him to judge you – maybe laugh. It’s definitely something other men would do. But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he pecks you softly on the nose and gently lays you down until your back is flat against the bed.
“You’re thinking too much,” he mumbles, softly tapping your forehead.
You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t know how to not think about it without sounding like a complete loser. But, then you remember that this is your best friend. And if tonight has shown you anything, it’s that he won’t judge you. You could say the dumbest thing and he would still look at you like you mean something to him.
“I don’t know how to stop.” You admit shakily, the words feeling like a losing battle as they come out.
But they seem to catch Sunghoon off guard. He’s hovering above you, eyes staring into yours with so much emotion you nearly choke on it.
This is different from the teasing Sunghoon you’d seen earlier. This Sunghoon genuinely wants to help you. He wants you to be able to experience something as trivial as an orgasm just to help you feel normal.
This Sunghoon is your best friend.
He kisses you again, but this time it’s slower. Deeper, somehow. This time it feels like he’s kissing you just because he can, and for some reason, you like that.
“Do you trust me?” He asks, his breath ghosting against your wet lips.
You nod at him without a second thought.
He crawls off of you, and the loss of his body is enough to force a breathless whine from your throat. He just shushes you and disappears out of your room. He’s been in your home enough times to know where everything is, but it still leaves you feeling slightly embarrassed at the thought of him looking around your apartment without you. You cleaned yesterday, right? You really hope so.
When he reemerges, he’s holding something long and black. It dangles from his fingers clearly, and the closer you look you realize it’s a piece of black cloth.
“Where’d you find that?” You ask. You probably should be asking what he plans to do with it, but your brain is having trouble processing actual thoughts right now.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he climbs back into bed with you, and ever so carefully presents the fabric to you.
“You said you don’t know how to turn your brain off, right?” He mumbles, bringing a hand to your thigh. His fingertips ghost over the skin, bringing goosebumps in their wake. “Maybe…Maybe this will help.”
You still aren’t understanding, and he seems to be able to tell by the look of genuine confusion on your face. He chuckles and scoots closer, but this time it seems his confidence has faded the tiniest bit. He looks almost nervous, like he’s riding a bike without training wheels for the first time.
“I don’t get it.” You mumble, letting out a nervous laugh. “How is a piece of fabric going to help?”
He balls up the fabric, eyes lingering on it before he finds your gaze again. “Just let me try something?” He asks.
Part of you is screaming at you to say no. You have no idea what’s going through his mind or what strange fantasy he’s planning to play out with you, and you’re terrified to find out.
But the other part of you…the smaller, braver part, wants you to say fuck it. You’ve already come this far with him, what’s a little more push? Besides, what could it hurt?
Slowly, your head nods up and down. Sunghoon, for what it's worth, doesn’t look smug or happy. He just swallows, his adams apple bobbing as he does, and cautiously makes his way so he’s chest to chest with you.
You watch as he brings the piece of fabric towards your head, and then suddenly your vision is cut off completely. You let out a breath of air as he ties the fabric at the back of your skull gently, his fingers working carefully to make sure he doesn’t catch any of your hair.
The vulnerability makes your core ache something awful. The thought of not being able to see him, not being able to know what his next move is…it’s exhilarating.
Your hands clench your sheets from anticipation, knuckles going a vivid white.
You hear Sunghoon chuckle, the sound low and breathy, and then he’s moving somewhere you can’t see. You can feel his hands on your thighs still, like he’s trying to keep you grounded. To reassure you that he’s still here. That he’s not leaving.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He murmurs. You feel his hand slowly slide up until he’s reaching the hem of your shorts. He doesn't go under it – just keeps it there. Like he’s teasing you.
You feel yourself flush. “Don’t say things like that.”
His fingers slide up the fabric until he reaches the waistband, and then slowly he slips his fingertips under it and tugs. “Why?” He asks. You can practically feel the smirk that you’re sure is radiating from him. “It’s true.”
You just let out a breath, too focused on the feeling of him dragging your shorts and underwear down the soft skin of your legs. You hear him toss them aside somewhere, and then the room goes very still.
You swallow uncomfortably, legs closing on instinct. You hate that you can’t see him or even try to guess what he’s thinking. Is he disappointed? Does he not want to do this anymore?
Your hands reach for the blindfold to pull it down, but a sudden grip on your wrist stops you.
“Don’t.” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low and breathy.
You freeze, arousal begins to pool in your core, and you listen to him. Your hands fall back to your sides and leave you encased in darkness and anticipation.
Ever so slowly, you hear him move. His hands find your knees and push them apart, exposing your glistening folds to him, and you feel him settle between your thighs.
“Poor baby,” he teases, leaving featherlight kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Never been taken care of properly, huh? No wonder this pretty little pussy is practically dripping for me.” He runs the tip of his finger over your slit, and you shiver at the contact.
“Hoon,” you pant, trying to ignore that it sounds more like a beg than anything else. “Just–Just hurry up and touch me so we can get this over with.”
He has the audacity to chuckle, but makes no move to help subside the growing ache in your stomach. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he thinks this entire thing is funny.
“So impatient,” he says, clicking his tongue as he does. “This is why you’ve never cum, princess. You’re rushing things. How’s your pretty pussy supposed to finish if you never let her start in the first place?”
You don’t have a reply for that. If anything, it just irritates you that he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. He totally doesn’t, but still. It’s annoying that he thinks he knows more about your body than you do.
Slowly, he begins to spread your lips, his thumb spreading your arousal. The pad of it catches on your clit for just a split second, but the jolt of pleasure it gives you is enough to force a gasp out of your throat.
He pulls back for just a moment, before finally his mouth is on you fully, licking a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit. Your back arches without warning, a moan pushing its way from your lungs. The suddenness of it forces your brain to go on temporary pause, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his mouth.
He licks you like a man starved, grunts of pleasure falling from his lips as if he's the one being pleasured. “There you go, baby,” he mumbles against you, the noise drowned out by the wet sounds of your sopping pussy. “Feels good, hm?”
You just moan in response, unable to form any actual thoughts. Suddenly you’re almost grateful for the blindfold, because you aren’t sure you’d be able to handle seeing him in between your legs – making a home for himself there as if he always knew he’d end up there.
His hand grips your hip suddenly, fingers digging into the plush skin so hard you’re sure there’ll be marks in the morning. “Tell me,” he gasps, punctuating it by a tug at your clit. “Tell me exactly how good it feels.”
“So–So good,” you manage. “Fuck, it’s good.”
You’ve had men go down on you before, but never like this. Never like it was something they were doing for their own pleasure and not just because they felt obligated.
“I know it is, pretty girl.” He says. You feel his free hand slowly run up your calf and your inner thigh, before his finger is prodding at your entrance and pushing through the tight ring of muscle.
Your head goes fuzzy, hips lifting off the bed and chasing the heat of his mouth and the thrusts of his finger. It’s an overwhelming sensation, one that you’ve never really experienced before. And for one fleeting moment, you think that Sunghoon might have just done the thing he set out to do.
Prove you wrong.
“Fuck,” you whine, your hand searching blindly for his in an attempt to slow him down. “Hoon, slow down–”
He doesn’t listen. Instead, he forces another finger into your hole, stretching you out deliciously and now giving you a moment to breathe.
“I know, baby, I know,” he mumbles, giving your clit another harsh suck. “It’s gonna feel real good here soon.”
Slowly, the coil in your stomach builds and builds. Usually, this would be when you stop, accidentally edging yourself and thinking it was because you just couldn’t orgasm like a normal woman can. But Sunghoon doesn’t. Instead, he works you through it like there’s no place you’d rather be.
You gasp, reaching up and tugging the blindfold off. It falls to the side slowly, and when you look down you see Sunghoon between your legs, his cock in his hand and jerking himself off with slow, languid strokes.
It’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a guy do.
“Shit, I’m gonna–oh, fuck–”
Sunghoon doesn’t go faster or harder, he just keeps the same pace, until finally you’re spilling over and releasing all over his face, your hole spasming against his fingers. He drinks your release like it’s his own personal ambrosia, groaning through it.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, voice raising in pitch. “Cum all over my face.”
He finishes shortly after you with a small cry, his cum painting your sheets and his hand a milky white.
When it’s over, you're panting like a dog in heat, thighs twitching and sweat beading across your forehead. You don’t even know what to do or say. Your best friend just made you finish for the first time after you’d spent years thinking it just wasn't possible for you. And not only did he bring you to orgasm, he did it without even using his fucking dick.
You could seriously kill him.
Slowly, he climbs up next to you, his own chest heaving from his own orgasm.
“So?” He murmurs.
You glare at him. “Don’t say it.”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” But the smirk on his face says otherwise.
You’re having a lot of thoughts right now. Mostly that you can’t believe you just let your best friend eat you out.
But mostly that you can’t wait for him to do it again.
pairing: inexperiencedbf!jungwon x inexperiencedgf!reader
NSFW (mdni): idk how to tag so take these with a grain of salt pls; starts in the shower but ends in bed, cursing, breast play, fingering, handjob, making out, praise and affirmations, need for approval, unprotected — won has weak pull out game, reader doesn’t care and won is mortified.
You and jungwon have your first time together on a trip to Thailand on the hottest day of your trip.
smut should probably not be this long … sry … I’m finishing up more olderbf!hoon tho 😋
“It’s so hot…” you sigh, fanning yourself with your hand as you enter your hotel room.
“And humid…” he adds, lagging behind while he closes and locks the door.
Maybe you should have done a bit more research before blindly following Jake and his girlfriend to Thailand in July…
But then again, how were either of you supposed to know that June/July is their rainy season?
A shower would be nice, but you’re so out of it right now that you don’t want to do anything but sit under the ceiling fan above the bed.
“Water?” he calls out, half-kneeling beside the mini fridge under the desk in the room.
“Yes, please.” You answer quickly, lying on your back now that you’re a bit cooler.
“Baby, get up…you’re all sweaty…” he sighs, sitting on the floor near the bed instead as he places the water bottle on your thigh to shock you with it.
“Jungwon-“ you exclaimed, pushing the bottle off after it did much to irritate you.
Maybe it was a little harsh, but who knows if you would have listened the first time?
“I’m sorry, but they just did the housekeeping for the room this morning, so you really want us sleeping in your sweat?” He says, an apologetic expression as he hands out the bottle again as an offering.
You know he’s right, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hate it.
“Who’s going to shower first?” You ask, slowly bringing the bottle up to your cheek.
It’s different because you’re doing it to yourself—and slowly at that—but you don’t care to explain it even as he narrows his eyes at you.
You have to wait until after he finishes chugging his water to get a reply.
“You can go first.” He says, running his hands over his face and through his hair; slicking his hair back.
You feel bad for being glad that he’s so considerate; but you genuinely believed you’d fight him on this.
“I’ll be quick.” You assure him, but both of you know that’s not going to happen; you’re incapable of measuring your time in the shower.
“Yup.” He acknowledges, leaning into his hands as he considers that he might be delirious from the heat.
You spend no more than a minute grabbing your travel bag and the clothes you’ll change into, but the minute you close the door, something in him shifts.
The heat is making him irritable, and he plans on knocking on the door in 10 minutes if you aren’t done by then.
He does knock—exactly ten minutes later too—but you don’t respond, and it’s when he abuses the fact that you don’t lock the door.
“I’m coming in.” He calls out, opening the door just enough to shout into it but not enough to see anything until you acknowledge what he said.
“What?” You call back out, seeing the door slightly ajar before you see your boyfriend walk in.
The shower is made of glass, but it’s not exactly transparent; you can see the door open and his head poke in, and it startles you—but he can only see the vague outline that is you, and it’s brief.
“Jungwon!” You call out, your arms covering your chest instinctively.
This is really pushing it, but he doesn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and he just hopes you understand that much with his gesture to keep his back to you.
“I don’t wanna be like that, but it’s been more than 15 minutes.” He says, speaking as loudly as he can without yelling.
He’s joking, right?
“I’ll be out in like five,” you say in disbelief.
“Baby…” he whines, face palming himself.
“You know—you take just as long in the shower as I do.” You defend, putting everything on hold to have this conversation, which by extension adds to the time you need in the shower.
Admittedly, he doesn’t think much after this; all that goes through his mind is how nice your shower must be with the cool water if you’re taking this long—and he just wants that.
“If you’re going to take this long, let me get in with you.” He says, only processing it once he has to sit in the awkward silence after he says it.
Now, you’ve only been with Jungwon for a little under a year—It’s sweet; he’s your first boyfriend, you’re his first girlfriend—and while it’s not true in its entirety, you’ve been in this honeymoon phase since making things official.
So you two have never actually…uhh…
“Okay.” You say after a bit, surprising him.
“I was just kidding…” he says, not entirely a lie, but surely this isn’t how this happens for the first time.
There’s another small pause, and you’d think he’d leave after saying he was joking, but he doesn’t move.
“It’s not like we’re in a rush; if you get in with me, we can stay in here as long as we want.” You add.
Nothing about this is inherently sexual; you two can be mature about this, you’re very mature people to begin with.
“Are you sure?” He asks, both nervous and a little hesitant.
“Yeah, I don’t want to get out just yet.”
He leaves to grab his things too; and when he comes back, he tries to drag out his actions to see if maybe you’d get out before he got close to getting in.
He doesn’t blame you for not getting out though; it’s still hot in the room.
“I’m coming in…” he says, reaching for the shower door and opening it slowly.
You switch sides so he can enter without having to go around you; the shower head is hanging off the ceiling and directly above the center, so sharing the water won’t actually be that hard.
And even if it’s more awkward, neither of you can or want to look anywhere but the other’s face.
“Hello…” he says softly.
“Hi.” You reply quickly.
Things gradually become less awkward as you two continue with your shower routines simultaneously.
It’s once you’ve pinned your hair up with a conditioner in it that you think to try talking to him again.
“This isn’t so bad…” you say, watching him as he takes up most of the shower while washing his hair.
It’s easy because his eyes are closed; and while you aren’t looking that low, it’s not such a bad view to see him like this.
“It’s unconventional.” He shrugs, running his hands through his hair.
“Really? You’re not in my way…” you shrug.
“You’re at the end of your shower, I still have a lot to do that I don’t want to do in front of you.” He says, washing his face with some water he gathers in his palms.
“It’s not like I’m staring, won.” You scoff, crossing your arms.
“Maybe, but it would be easier if you turned away.” He says.
If this is ever going to work, it needs to start off slow; so even if he was just joking then, you actually do turn around so your back is to him.
“Better?” You ask, unable to see him as his eyes trail down your neck, back, and the entire body down to your feet.
With your hair bunched up like that, there’s nothing blocking his view, and it would be so easy for him to just…reach out and touch your bare skin.
Not only because of his guilt for checking you out like this, but because of the conscious fact that he really needs to shower, he takes advantage of your gesture to actually scrub his body and such.
Eventually your vague estimate of the five minutes you leave your conditioner in goes off and you back up just enough so you can get under the spray of the water.
He notices a little late, only when there’s not much of a gap between you both, but it helps him realize that this could be an intimate moment and nothing more.
So to show something for the step you took together today, he finishes up quickly to turn to face you.
“I can wash it out for you…if you want…” he offers, his voice soft and close behind you.
The smug expression this creates is unseen by him because you’re not looking at him, and it lets you express and release whatever feeling this gives you before you give him an answer.
“Yeah, okay…” you nod, stopping to bring your arms down and in front of you as he takes over.
He’s gentle; somehow knowing enough to scrub your scalp neither too hard but with just enough pressure that he’s actually doing a good job.
“Your hair is so soft with this.” He comments, running his hands through the lower half of it, causing you to lean your head back slightly.
It’s not like you two don’t have your moments—you’ve made out before—but this is different.
He can’t just touch you, not like he usually does, and he has to be conscious of where it is so it doesn’t touch you.
With Jungwon worried and in his head about it all, he’s missing every little hint you’re dropping to get him to at least try.
And when you realize this, you try something more direct; you find one of his arms, slide your hand down it to find his hand to put it on your waist.
And because you manage to do it without breaking this kiss, you get to hide behind the action.
“Hmm…” he hums, furrowing his brows a bit once he realizes what he’s touching.
After a bit, Jungwon slowly wraps this arm around you, pulling you a little closer and securing both of you just a little more in the shower.
To give a little more, he breaks the kiss to start a trail of them down your jaw and neck; keeping the one arm around you while the other covers himself just so he can get closer without making you uncomfortable by accident.
“Jungwon…” you mew softly, tilting your head back a bit to let him.
God, do you just sound like that?
“I want to try something…can I?” He asks, stopping for a moment to look at you.
Despite your own nerves, you nod your head, and you can tell he’s just as nervous because of how eagerly he needs your answer.
“Y-yeah…” you say, thinking it was necessary that you say it.
If this is really happening, surely you won’t mind if it brushed up against you during; you’ve been past the previous limit you’d set for yourselves a long time ago.
Jungwon moves his hand away to hold you more firmly by your hips, as he does this, he starts to kiss down your neck again; only this time, they’re open-mouth kisses that he leads to your chest with.
You stand awkwardly with your hands raised slightly at your sides while you looked behind him; what else are you supposed to do?
It’s odd how instinct works though, because once he presses a kiss to your nipple, your first instinct is to push him away.
All you wanted to do was stop him because you were discovering in real time that you were sensitive and ticklish; but you could see how it might backfire against you if you followed through.
Instead, you wrap your arm around his neck, getting a little more used to the attention on your chest once he takes you in his mouth.
As it starts to sink in that this is really happening, Jungwon loses a bit of his composure; he wants to try everything he knows about—wants to see how you’ll react to some of the things he does.
And it’s because of this sudden feeling that one of his hands comes around your back and moves lower until his hand is on your ass.
He doesn’t even realize he’s taken a handful of it until you gasp softly above him and remind him to be slower.
“S-sorry...” He says, moving his hand away and back up your back as he looks up from you.
You reassure him that you didn’t mind, but now he’s embarrassed and painfully hard with no real idea how to take care of both of you.
“I’m…completely out of my depth here…” he admits, straightening up a bit to look at you.
“I am too, remember?” You say softly.
Jungwon can’t take anything from this; in a way, he should know more—there’s no excuse for him to be this clueless.
“I just…don’t want to hurt you, or do anything you won’t like.” He adds.
“You won’t,” you assure.
The excitement of doing this in the shower has completely died down, so he takes the chance to turn the water off himself then.
You don’t seem to mind that he did that, even now that you’ve both separated a bit and are no longer touching each other in any way.
The understanding that this might be over is mutual, and you get out of the shower together after this.
He helps you out, holding your hand tightly as he warns you to be careful as you step out of the shower.
And as you’re both drying off and wrapping yourselves in your towels, he realizes you might think he doesn’t want you, which isn’t the case at all.
So just before you can leave to get dressed, he grabs your arm to stop you from leaving.
“Let me try again…out here…please?” He says, looking at you with this soft expression; almost like he’s eager to make it right.
“It’s okay that it didn’t work out today, it’ll happen eventually.” You say, attempting to reassure him again.
But he can’t back down; who knows what this might do for your relationship if he can’t do it today after falling short so many other times.
“Please…just once more…” he begs.
You find yourself making out with him for the second time in the last hour.
But this time you aren’t going to leave it entirely up to him; maybe that’s why it didn’t work out the first time.
“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss for a moment as you look up at him.
Jungwon blanks out for a second, immediately going through about a thousand thoughts before he comes back.
“Y-yes.” He says, an eager nod.
To distract the both of you just enough, you kiss him again; and as you do this, your hand travels down his chest slowly so he’d have the chance to stop you if he changed his mind.
He squirms a little once you’re low enough, and you wait a little more before you wrap your hand around it.
He pushes his hips into your hand and you get the feeling you should move;
“God…” he sighs, breaking the kiss to hide in your neck.
“Am I doing it right?” You ask, keeping your arm wrapped around his neck to keep him close.
“You can wrap around it a little tighter…” he says, palms pressed into the mattress beneath you.
You stroke him slowly at first, gradually moving your hand a little faster as he starts breathing shallowly into your neck.
“It’s so hard…” you say softly, kissing his jaw while you work his length.
He shivers a little; everything from the things you say to the things you’re doing is hard to get through when you’re doing them at the same time.
This is a million times better than anything he thought it would be—this is better than anything he’s ever done on his own before.
“You’re…really good at it…” he praises softly.
It does a lot for your confidence that he’s like this; especially when you think about how he likes you doing it when he’s probably a lot better at it himself.
As he starts getting used to your hands on him, he starts thinking about you and what needs to be done for you.
It wouldn’t hurt to do it for you while you do it for him, right?
He brings one hand up to your hip, resting it there at first until he drags it down your thigh, then he picks his head back up a bit, just to look at you better.
“Can I…” he trails, biting back a groan as you rub the head for a moment before pulling your hand back down.
Even if he doesn’t finish his sentence, you don’t need to hear it; you want him to do whatever he can.
“You don’t have to ask…” you assure.
He nods, using the hand on your thigh to spread your legs carefully before it moves closer and closer to your center.
He can’t see what he’s doing, so he tries to figure it out by dragging his middle finger up your slit slowly.
Almost at the end, you flinch away from him suddenly; but he at least knows enough to know that he probably found your clit.
He sets his middle and ring fingers down above it, slowly moving them in a circle to see if he was right.
You gasp softly, and he takes the chance to kiss you again as he rubs the circles in a little faster.
It’s hard to kiss properly when you’re both doing other, more distracting things, so it’s a little sloppy; breaking the kiss every now and then, revealing little strings that connect your mouths because neither of you seems to care to bring your tongues back in before you break it.
Of course, this isn’t really doing anything for anyone—especially not two people who have never touched someone like this before in their lives—so all it does is bring you both to a bit of frustration.
“Won…” you call out, your breathing a little uneven as you feel that odd little build-up unravel yet again when his fingers falter for a moment.
“Yeah?” He asks softly, a slightly pained expression from going on so long without release.
“Want…more…” you manage, too embarrassed to say it any other way and too out of it to form anything better.
He hesitates; he could try to use his fingers, it would probably make it easier on you later—but how many times is he going to stop doing one thing to do another without seeing the last one through?
“O-okay,” he nods, looking down at his hand between your legs, “I’m gonna use my fingers.” He says, wanting you to know exactly what he’ll do to make you more comfortable.
Once you nod, he slides his finger a little lower, until he feels what he can only assume is your entrance.
“Tell me if you need me to stop…” he says softly, pressing his middle finger against it slightly.
You take a deep breath in and he takes it as a chance to push in slowly; enveloping around his finger so tightly that it almost feels like you’re sucking him in.
You whine a little, and he stops for a moment with his finger buried in you while he checks in.
“Are you okay?” He asks, leaning forward so he’s propped up on his elbow beside you.
“Y-yeah” you assure, a little tense against him.
“I’m gonna move, just a little.” He says, pulling out a bit as he says this, and pushing back in just as slowly when he’s done.
You relax slowly against his finger, but you’re still just as tight, so he tries to add another finger, which is easier the second time around.
“I know, baby…but you’re doing so good…” he says softly, kissing your jaw as he moves slowly again.
You have one hand on his forearm, holding onto him tightly as he moves this arm away and against you.
Meanwhile, he’s both nervous and excited for what’s to come; he can only imagine how you’re going to feel around him, but the obvious difference in size from him and his fingers is concerning.
“Faster…please…” you beg, your hold on his arm loosening slightly as you press your hips into his hand.
“Does it feel good?” He asks, looking down on you, watching you, even if your eyes are closed shut; he just wants to catch any little shift that might tell him otherwise.
“Fuck- yes…”
He swallows that up with a kiss, pumping his fingers into you faster now that he knows he can make you feel good like this.
He muffles your moans this way, more determined by them and the way you squeeze around his fingers.
He can’t keep you with him for long; after a bit, you break the kiss as you cry out.
“Are you gonna…?” He asks, finally noticing how your legs tremble slightly.
His answer comes not even seconds later when you repeat his name softly as you arch your back into his hand; your release coats his fingers completely as he continues to move them in and out of you while he gradually slows down.
After he helps you ride it out, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty but content on the bed as he looks down at his hand.
He spreads his fingers out a bit, watching the slick stretch between them, his breath hitching.
Then he looks up at you; your chest rising and falling quickly but already beginning to even out as you look up at the ceiling with a soft expression.
“Baby…?” He calls out, wiping his hand on one of your towels as he tries to get you to look at him.
“Mmh…” you hum, lagging behind slightly as you reply before you look at him.
When you do, he looks a little different; eager? Impatient? But also like he wants to know how that was for you or how you feel after.
“Can I…” he says, breaking himself off as he considers that maybe this is a limit for you.
“Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, his expression now showing worry.
“Good…” you answer, your voice soft and a little dazed.
Now that he has that, he can ask, right?
“Can you handle more?” He asks, unintentionally pressing himself into your thigh.
You’re a little lazy now, but you’re still conscious; mostly conscious of the fact that he hasn’t finished in any way himself.
“Right, sorry…” you acknowledge, coming up on your elbows, “should I…” you trail; what exactly are you supposed to do for him?
“No,” he quickly says, moving above you to grab a pillow and place it behind your head.
“Just lay back, I can do it.” He assures; maybe you’ll help him out like that some other time—right now, he wants and enjoys being the one in control of both you and him.
“Okay…” you nod, lying back on the pillow with your hair spread out behind you.
Jungwon inhales sharply, wrapping his hand around his length with a few strokes as he tries to think about anything he might be forgetting to do.
It’s only once he’s pulled you closer and has one leg hooked over his arm while his hand is ready to feed himself into you that he realizes.
“Wait…” he says softly, looking up at you.
“I’m not wearing a condom.” He admits; to his surprise, you don’t really seem to care.
“I trust you…you can pull out in time, right?”
You might as well have given him your heart on a pretty plate and told him he could keep it forever; it’s that serious for him.
“Breathe…” he reminds gently, unintentionally rubbing the head against your entrance as he lines himself up.
You wither a bit, and as he starts to push in slowly he has to hold your hips down to not accidentally push in at once with how wet you are.
It’s not like he’s so unaffected; his jaw is tight as he’s trying so hard not to collapse on you.
“You feel incredible…” he says lowly, stopping about halfway as he gives you both time to adjust.
It’s not so different from his fingers, the pain is just on a larger scale; but even if it hurts too, you can’t help but tighten around him whenever he says anything.
He checks in again when he wants to move in more; and after a few painful moments, he’s bottomed out inside you.
He needs you close just as much as you need him close; so as he waits for you to adjust this time, he leans forward with some of his weight and lays with you, kissing and leaving light bites on your chest and collarbones.
“Think you’re ready for me to move?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you but staying against your skin.
You nod, and he makes his first attempt at moving out of you; “oh my god…” he sighs, unable to pull out much before he desperately wants to be inside you again.
Obviously, he would have never been able to guess how this would feel; but everything about this is just unreal.
He starts to roll his hips into you slowly, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from making any sounds and therefore keeping his composure.
He hits much deeper like this, and it’s like he hits a new spot every time he pushes back in after pulling out.
Your moans are that much sweeter like this too; soft in this genuine, unpracticed way.
He wants to hear more of you, so he starts to move a little faster.
To keep you with him, he finds one of your hands and links them with one of his, holding it as he speeds up.
The room starts to fill with the explicit sound of your skin against his and it genuinely feels like it’s just you and him in the entire world—he can’t think about anything else but you—
Acutely aware of what it’s like to finish on his own, he can recognize that he’s getting close himself, but it’s too soon, isn’t it?
“Wrap your legs around my waist…” he instructs, slowing down a bit to drag this out a little.
After he changes the position, he manages to free up his other hand, and as he starts moving again, he presses his thumb against your clit, waiting until he finds his rhythm to rub it in small circles.
You throw your head back, the feeling of his finger against you while he fills you up at the same time makes it hard for you to focus on anything else.
And just when you think you can lay back and let the feeling take over, he hits something inside of you for a moment, and then again with a second thrust.
“There…again…” you plead, hands reaching out and resting against his thigh and lower stomach.
God knows he has no idea what he just did, but if you said again, then that’s exactly what he’s going to try to do.
“Here?” He asks, a measuring thrust into you at what he believes is the same spot.
And when you nod eagerly, he makes an effort to hit it repeatedly with his thrusts, gradually pushing in a little deeper.
He completely forgets about himself when he realizes you’ll come again; and as all his efforts go into pushing you over the edge, he forgets to hold himself together.
It feels like it happens in seconds.
You convulse around him as you grind your hips against his; him realizing he’s not far behind you; and then remembering that he’s not using protection.
“Fuck…” he whines softly, spilling into you a bit before he pulls out; even then, he doesn’t do it properly, and he makes a mess between your legs.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes, his voice rough and a little whiny as he looks up at you with the most worried eyes.
His words fall on deaf ears; you’re in a much different state of mind than he is.
“Baby?” He says softly, moving up to look at you properly.
“You’re so loud…I’m right here…” you giggle, covering your face with your hands for a moment.
“This is serious,” he says impatiently, sitting back on his heels as he considers whether he can clean you up or if he has to wait or let you do it yourself.
“What?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to look at him through a small gap you make in your hands.
“I didn’t…pull out in time…” he says, embarrassed.
You don’t say anything at first, but your hands come down to help push yourself up to sit up.
He watches you wince slightly, but you do it regardless.
“There’s contraceptives for after too, we’re fine.” You shrug, putting the stickiness you feel between your legs to what it is.
Before he can continue to overthink and worry himself more, you wrap your arms around him to pull him closer and into a kiss.
It’s much softer than what you’ve done in the last hour or so, but it doesn’t serve any specific purpose.
“I love you.” You say softly, watching his embarrassment turn into shyness.
“I love you too…” he replies, his gaze a little low.
“Let me clean you up…I don’t want you to stay like this…” he says, reaching for one of the discarded towels on the bed.
It’s hard to get through that when you’re already so sensitive, but he’s careful and slow—thorough too—and once he’s deemed you taken care of with at least a shirt and a comfortable spot on the bed, he finally settles beside you.
“Do you want to sleep?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist as he scoots closer to you.
“Mhm…” you nod, nuzzling into his chest as you make yourself comfortable.
Once you’re settled, he starts to rub your back gently, a kiss on the top of your head as he tells you he loves you again.
Jungwon doesn’t fall asleep immediately after; despite how tired he is, he’d much rather stay up a little longer just to replay the entire thing while it’s still fresh in his mind.
He wants to be better for you next time, but he isn’t so worried he wasn’t good today; at the very least, he got you to finish twice, and whether there was a better or faster way to do it, he’s just glad he managed that.
for your entire life, it's been easy to disregard your father and his beliefs about the ocean and it's creatures. mermaids? ha! those have never existed. but as always, father knows best.
info. merfolk!yang jungwon x reader, cursing, drinking/drug use, vomiting, brief violence (jungwon scratches reader accidentally), like one suicide/drowing joke, SEX!!! (mermaid and human), cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, dubcon-ish (brief manipulation of readers mind), blood play, jungwon goes into heat because of the moon, reader has some pubic hair because she's grown, dry humping, lots of spit because it's me, both of them are sexy losers, diary of a wimpy kid mentioned, mostly edited (if you see a typo, mind your business).
length. 30.6k words.
reblogs appreciated! <3
When you were a little girl, hands still soft and eyes wide, your father told you stories of the sea. Its dangers. Its powers. Its beauty, and its mystery.
These were stories of gods and monsters who resided deep beneath the ocean waves. They were creatures responsible for great disasters and tremendous adventures. He warned you of the sea dragons, that were wise and mischievous—they ruled the sea and were not to be crossed. He warned you of Charybdis, who resided in deep waters and showed no mercy to its victims. However, none of these fascinated you, even at your young age. They were just myths. Stories. Legends. Small tales that helped make sense of a senseless world.
However, your father never let you speak that way about sirens.
He loathed them. He said that they were the biggest nuisance of the sea, always scheming and always intervening. Killing. Murdering. And all while singing their song.
He claims to have seen one once, but he can’t remember much about it. From the little he can recall, and a story you’ve heard maybe a million times before, he says that when he was a young man, he was stationed as a crew hand as many young men at that age are in your small coastal town. And late one night, when half of the crew was asleep and the other half stayed awake, drunk, blubbering on the deck, a piercing note glided through the air. He said it started like a whisper, a sweet lullaby. However, it grew. He still claims to remember how the song crescendoed into a primal lust, one that left him craving the taste of death and salt. When he woke up, the sun was barely cresting over the horizon, and his ears were bleeding.
He was one of the few spared that night.
Although your father has long since left the sea behind, retiring in a small house further inland, he still warns you to never walk along the shore at night. The sirens are beautiful, each and everyone. However, they are lethal. And beauty and death can never coexist peacefully.
But just like the sea dragons and Charybdis, sirens, too, faded into tales of a fictional childhood. You grew, and so did your mind. And just as your frilly socks and toy dolls changed into revealing clothes and drunken parties, your opinions on these stories shifted too. There was no such thing as sirens or merfolk. They were myths. Stories. Tales.
You would never see one for as long as you lived.
—
Puke. It smells like fucking puke.
You hold back Daniela’s hair with one hand, a steely grip on your red solo cup with the other, as she heaves into the sand. You warned her, you really did try.
“Daniela, you can never keep vodka down. We know this,” you say, but she doesn’t listen. She never fucking listens.
Every summer, the kids in your town throw a big beach party, starting at sunset and ending at sunrise. It’s always a big to-do, and you and your friends have been going ever since you were old enough. And like any party with young, drunk adults, something worthy of a good story has to happen.
One year, Jay ran the length of the party butt-ass naked, simply because his friend, Riki, said he wouldn’t. Another year, Jeongyeon and her boyfriend (at the time) had a very public break-up. This year, your friends planned on being the center of attention.
Your friends had made a bet early on, discussing the plan while you all were still at Yunjin’s house, patting glitter onto your eyelids and double-checking your manicures. The plan was to see who could pull the most people in one night, and whoever had the most points by the end of the night, was the winner. A kiss was five points, sex was twenty. Anything in between varied in amount depending on the circumstance and the length of which it occurred. An ambitious plan, however, a little flirtatious fun never hurt anybody. Just like always, Daniela was on a fucking roll.
However, zealous as she was with her bets, she could also be overly ambitious when it came to having a good time. And, well, that often ended like this: puking in the sand at the biggest summer party of the year.
So now you had only kissed three people, and Daniela had kissed four. God knows how many the rest have conquered by now, considering you and Daniela had lost them once you heard someone lugged a keg down to the beach. I mean, seriously. A fucking keg?
“Sorry,” Daniela slurred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“It’s okay,” you sighed, taking a sip of your drink in hopes it would relieve you from the smell, if even for just a second. “I told you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed, standing up straight. “Do you have a mint?”
You reached into your back pocket, grabbing a spare piece of gum you had stashed before leaving the house. “I only have two more left. Try not to puke anymore before the night’s over.”
She grumbled something that probably would rival an Etsy witch’s hex spell, before popping the mint gum in her mouth. You two stood there for a second, gathering yourselves before you spotted your next target.
Would it be Heeseung? No. He got a girlfriend three months ago and is—allegedly—very loyal to her. Would it be Jake? No. He would never let it go and blow up your DMs. Sunoo? Your dear friend who was always down for a little smooch, especially when he has had about two and a half hard seltzers? Bingo.
“I’ll be back in twenty. If I’m not back, call the Coast Guard,” you joke, not even bothering to look back as you saunter over to Sunoo.
He looks good tonight. Exceptionally good. Like really, really good. His shirt was the perfect amount of tight around the shoulders, and his hair was the perfect amount of styled but relaxed. He looks effortlessly handsome. And knowing how unresistant he is to compliments, you figure it would take you five minutes maximum to butter him up, and then, boom, lips locked, and he becomes lucky number four on your roster for tonight.
Maybe you could convince him to touch your boob—that would have to give you a couple of extra points, right?
However, before you could plant your cute shorty-short covered butt in front of him, Yunjin stumbles into your view. Her shirt is halfway off and her lipstick is smudged, but other than that, she’s fully intact.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened to you?!” you gasp, trying to tug the front of her shirt over her boob. Good thing she was wearing a bikini top underneath, but with the way she was fumbling around, a nip slip was bound to happen.
“Gimme eight points,” she demands. Gripping your shoulders like her life depends on it.
Your eyes grow comically wide, the only kind of wide that can be accomplished by drunken surprise. “Why would I do that?”
“I made out with some dude,” she explained, taking a deep breath to sober herself up. “And let him do some other things, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m gonna need a better explanation than that,”
“Whatever,” she groans, shoving you in the opposite direction of Sunoo. “Let’s go take shots and then go swimming. The water is supposed to be nice tonight.”
And soon, the thoughts of shoving your tongue down Sunoo’s throat were consumed by the taste of tequila chased by some slightly sandy lime wedges. It didn’t bother you, though. After your second shot and the warmth spreading across your cheeks, the sand was only a mere memory.
Upon knocking out your last shot, you and your friends began to strip yourselves of your clothes, leaving yourselves in your bathing suits. The water was freezing, but to your warm, sweaty bodies, it was the perfect way to cool down. The sea was tranquil, waves glittering under the stars and the moon. The moon was full, as if a god carved out a pale space in the inky sky, and it illuminated the night perfectly. If you were any more sober, you’d perhaps be a bit more curious as to why it was so bright. Too bad you weren’t, though.
Amongst the squeals and splashing, you found your mind growing very calm. Peaceful. Quiet. The salt breeze tickled your face, as your hair floated in the water around you. You dunk your face under the cold water, waking yourself up slightly. Upon resurfacing and blinking away the brine, you spot a rocky jetty. Has that always been there? Certainly, it must’ve been. A whole row of rocks doesn’t just appear out of nowhere.
However, amidst the confusion, it seems to be calling your name. It isn’t enticing you with liquor or extra points in your game like everything else has interested you tonight. Instead, it seems like it has a secret it wants to share with you. Only you.
“I wanna chicken fight,” Yunjin declares, grabbing someone to be her partner. “Do you wanna duel?” she asks you.
You shake your head, eyes remaining on the jetty that stands darker than the night sky. “No, you guys go ahead. I want to go check out that jetty real quick. I’ll join in on the next round.”
Yunjin shrugs, climbing on Daniela’s shoulders as she bellows some self-proclaimed war cry. You swim over to the jetty, the current guiding you. Wedging your foot on the flattest rock you could find, you hoist yourself onto the ledge, propelling yourself onto the jetty. Your bottom smacks against the wet rock, droplets of moon-filled water decorating your thighs as you stand and regain your footing. You begin to stagger slowly along the jetty, careful to watch your step in your inebriated state.
You may be drunk, but you certainly aren’t stupid.
The pale moon lights your path, warning you against stepping on jagged stones or sharp barnacles that could cut your feet, and highlighting flat rocks that weren’t too slippery from the salty sea. The cool air suddenly grows warmer, but you’re not sure when you begin to feel the change in temperature or if it could be blamed on anything other than the few shots of tequila coursing through your veins. After what feels like hours of wandering—which has probably, realistically, only been about five minutes—you sit back down on a ledge, shifting around to get yourself comfortable as you dip your feet into the water.
You look down, watching your feet against the deep darkness of the ocean, mesmerized by the little swirls that follow your toes. However, just as you’re captivated by the little currents you’re creating, you fail to recognize the other currents being created around you.
Head drooped low and eyes fixated, it isn’t until you hear a loud splash do you look up.
“Yunjin?” you call out.
The ocean is vast and empty; only the glittering waves keep you company. They’re so pretty, you think. They’re so pretty that you wish someone would write a song about them.
Then, another splash. You don’t just hear it this time, but you see it too. A small flicker of something shiny pierces through the water, before smacking down aggressively, foam and salt spraying in all directions. You’re not sure what it was. It was far enough away that you couldn’t make out any details, and the fact that your world is currently functioning at an aggressive tilt does not help by any means.
However, your mind rapidly comes up with the highest possible conclusion: shark.
You tug your feet out of the water, pleading to the gods that you won’t become the first dead girl in your rendition of Jaws. But yet, unlike any sane person, you remain seated. You know, just in case it actually is a shark and you can end the night by claiming that you saw one. Maybe you can lie and say that it tried to take a nibble out of you. That would certainly have to gain you some points, right? And if not by your friends, certainly other people attending this party would remember you as the girl who fought off a shark all by herself?
Not a bad way to be remembered—especially this early in your life.
However, it’s been two minutes. The water has stilled. There is no shark.
You’re still tense. Slightly afraid to move, and eyes transfixed on the glittering water. You kind of want to jump in again. You know you shouldn’t, of course. There could be a fucking shark just waiting for you to jump in so it can have you as a midnight snack. However, despite all of these red flags flashing through your mind, it seems as if the water is calling your name. It’s calling your name in a sweet, melodic voice. Almost like a little hum. A lullaby.
If you were in the right mind, you would be able to acknowledge that the this song you hear isn’t a figment of your imagination, but rather a voice. A note rings out, graceful and warm. And because it blends in with the low rumble of the ocean, and you’re currently battling with your alcohol induced brain, it’s easy to disregard the danger that harmonizes softly with the waves. Because at the end of the day, a measly shark fears this tune just as you should too.
But you’re drunk, and you’re naive. What could a human possibly know about the wonders of the deep blue?
Just as your eyes stay glued to the water, you feel something take a hold of your ankle.
This is it, you think. It’s the fucking shark.
You yelp and push yourself backwards, flinging yourself as far as you can. You don’t make it too far before realizing it’s just a hand. However, that hand hasn’t let go of your ankle, and keeps your foot in place with a strength that your mind is incapable of registering at this moment. All you know is that your foot and that stubborn grip remain.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff, wiping your hands down your face as you snap yourself out of whatever trance the water put you into. The song you’ve been hearing is cut into two, an eerie silence following. You think you might’ve just fallen asleep for a second there. “You scared the shit out of me.”
You giggle as you look down to see who has taken a hold of your ankle, half expecting it to be Daniela or maybe even Sunoo. However, a different pair of eyes stare back at you, and they are ones you wouldn’t say you’re very well acquainted with.
In fact, you’re not at all acquainted with these eyes. Actually, you don’t know who the fuck this is.
“Um, hello?”
The young man just stares, eyes wide and round and bewildered. He looks almost as surprised as you, if not more. He pushes away from the rock a bit, his fingers sliding down the top of your foot as he submerges his mouth into the water. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed that he scared you.
Almost.
“Bro, you scared me so fucking bad. I almost shit myself,” you chuckle, finally letting yourself relax. “I thought you were one of my friends.”
He blinks, slow and curious like an animal. But then, he lifts his head to show two pink lips, pursed like he’s guarding a secret. “Sorry,” he says, in a voice so gentle and sweet you swear stars twinkle in response.
Suddenly feeling shy, you shrug and smile coyly. “It’s okay. It was kinda funny.”
“Funny?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. A strand of wet hair falls across his forehead, a dark streak against pale skin.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Like, you know, funny. Ha-ha.”
He nods slowly, mimicking your movement before he smiles softly. It seems like he was genuinely confused. “Yeah. Funny.”
He’s kind of shy, you decide. When you’re drunk, you’re as social as can be so this just cannot do. But lucky for him, and especially lucky for you, you can keep the ball rolling.
“Are you from here?” you inquire, scooting closer to the edge. “I haven’t seen you before.”
The young man swims closer, his hand finding your ankle again but you don’t seem to mind. His grip is gentle, comforting. Besides, he’s kinda hot.
“No.”
“Oh?” you hum, peering down at him. He brushes his thumb over the bone, and it almost lulls you to sleep. Whoever this guy is, you like him. “Where are you from?”
He sighs, light and serene like a morning sea breeze. “Not from here,” he replies, a voice so sweet even birds would stop to listen.
You roll your eyes, giggling a little. “Well, duh. But where-”
“Do you want to go swimming?”
Your brain freezes for a second, fog consuming your mind. A warmth fills your body, different from the buzzing warmth of the alcohol—this is sharp, arousing. And you can’t deny it, he’s attractive. You very well could just be turned on, but something whispering in the back of your mind tells you it’s not. It’s more primal, animalistic. Dangerous. Although a part of you is pleading you to not get into the water, reasoning with the fact that he’s a stranger, you can feel yourself burning up from the inside out.
The song starts once more.
He strokes your ankle again. “Please?” he says, voice softer than a lamb’s.
You feel yourself helplessly nodding, submerging your other foot in the water. He begins to help you in, before you remember what—you suspect—was in the water only a few feet behind him.
“Wait,” you stop. “I saw something earlier. It might’ve been a shark. You should come out.”
He looks at you, stunned. The song stops. You might as well have spoken a language no one has ever documented. His head cocks sidewise, like a dog hearing a high whistle.
“There is no shark,” he insists, ceasing any kind of movement.
You shake your head, feeling as if you’re rediscovering that there’s more around you than this mystery man. “No, I swear I saw something earlier. You didn’t see anything?”
He just stares at you, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Would he fucking pull it together?
“I’m not fucking joking, dude. You should get out,” you berate, panic beginning to creep under your skin.
But he just remains still, shock painting his face from top to bottom. His grip on your ankle stays, but that fuzzy warmth you once felt is ripped away and replaced with freezing sobriety. You’re still frantically searching the water, anticipating a sight of a gnarly fin or menacing jaws to pop out of the water at any second. And although you’d love to have a crazy story to tell, you’re not sure if witnessing ‘death by shark’ is a tale you want to relay. You don’t even know this guy’s name. What would you tell the coast guard? The police? But the water is dark, darker than before. All that stares back at you is a pit of tar, motionless and waiting. Have the stars always been this dim?
“It’s okay,” he eventually says, stroking your ankle in a tantalizing pattern. “It’s safe. I promise.”
“I’m not playing, bro. Get out of the-”
Now. You’re sure fireball and vodka don’t mix well, but you’re not too sure that it’s supposed to make you hallucinate. However, that’s the only way you can explain what you’re seeing right now. Just between your leg and the young man’s torso, you spot movement.
It’s not vicious or menancing—nothing like an animal about to attack. Instead, it’s relaxed. If anything, it moves a bit seductively. The movement is unified, nothing like legs. It’s unified like a tail. You follow the movement upwards, watching it blend into the young man’s hips and torso. It’s his.
You hope deeply that it’s not a part of him, but the voice of your father, blaringly loud in the back of your head, rings true. These so-called mythical creatures are true. It also just so happens that the man in front of you, with eyes as dark as midnight and lips as pink as a sunset, is no man at all.
He’s a fucking siren.
You scream bloody fucking murder, and he jumps.
“Wait-” he begins, but you’ll hear none of it.
Kicking and trashing, praying to whatever god that someone will hear you and come to your rescue, you try to fight him off. Water sprays in every direction, salt stinging your eyes and disrupting the once tranquil ocean. Somewhere in your trashing, you kick him square in the face. He lets go of your ankle, hands flying towards his eye, nails slicing through the skin of your calf somewhere in the process. However, you’re too focused on trying to get away to even realize that the scratch was an accident.
“Help! Fuck, he’s trying to eat me!” you yelp, stumbling to your feet.
You eventually stand upright, the young man groaning before submerging himself back into the water. However, you waste no time trying to decipher if he’s following you or trying to rally some more of his (supposed) little siren friends. Instead, you bolt.
Holding your tits steady in your bikini top, you scamper off of the jetty and towards the sandy beach. It’s a miracle you don’t slip on any of the wet rocks, that certainly would’ve been a prime moment for him to snatch you up and eat you. But you hold your own, feet landing onto the soft sand as you sprint over to the crowd.
You’ve never been more thankful to see another human being in your life.
Lungs burning and eyes watering, you spot Daniela, who emerges from the crowd like your knight in shining armor. Yunjin and Lara follow, as well as a few other of your friends. Hair still damp from playing in the water, but other than that, unscathed.
You collapse into Daniela’s arms, chest cramping from lack of oxygen. If you could catch your breath, you would cry. But after such a scare, you’re not sure if you can do anything other than heave.
“Where the fuck were you?!” Daniela damn near shrieks, cradling you close to her chest like a baby. “We looked everywhere for you.”
“I-I-I…” you stutter, trying to quiet your pounding heart. “I saw something in the water. I thought it was some guy…”
“What? Like a dead body?” Yunjin asks, concern furrowing her eyebrows.
You shake your head vehemently, finally being able to breathe. “Worse. He was talking to me and he was, like, really hot so I didn’t really think anything of it. But then I was getting all warm and he was trying to get me into the water. But then I looked down and he didn’t have any fucking legs. He had like—I don’t know—a tail? I couldn’t-”
Lara scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head slowly as she narrows her eyes at you. “You’re really drunk.”
You throw your hands down, petulant like a child bubbling with a tantrum. “I’m not lying, Lara!”
“Yo, what the fuck happened to your leg?” Sunoo inquires, pointing towards your calf as he stands near Heeseung.
Daniela spins your shoulders a bit, forcing you to show off the backside of your leg. Sure enough, five red gashes, varying in depth and vibrancy, slowly drip blood down your heel and into the sand. You don’t even remember it happening, memory blocked in a panic. However, maybe it’s the adrenaline or the cleanliness of the cuts, but you hardly even notice them safe for the warmth that dribbles down your shivering skin.
“Are you fucking serious?” Daniela curses, beginning to usher you through the crowd and towards, you presume, your house. “You disappear, without a word, and now you're saying shit about some random dude or whatever? Your dad is going to fucking kill me,”
Yunjin laughs, jogging to keep up with you and Daniela as she storms you across the beach. “I didn’t take you for a runner,” she snickers.
“I’m not a runner!” you argue. “I told you where I was going!”
Daniela stops, as do all of your friends, with an unimpressed look on their faces.
“No, one second you were in the water with us and the next you were gone. We didn’t even hear you leave,” Daniela says, the moon taunting you through the ringlets of her hair.
—
Safe to say, you’re a little scared to go back to the beach.
Daniela was quick to wrap up your little injury, and you were able to brush off your mom’s inquisitive looks during your weekly Sunday brunch with a simple lie. However, you can’t help but feel like something is still out there, waiting for you. Looking for you.
Nearly a week has passed, and every night, you see him. Dark hair, and even darker eyes shaped just like crescent moons that observed your every step. Sometimes, he pulls you into the water and tries to drown you. Sometimes, you two just have a lovely chat. Everytime, you wake up gasping, lungs feeling like they’ve been filled with water and calf tingling despite healing without complication. On one occasion, you woke up standing before your window, hands pressed against the glass like you were trying to wish it away. You asked if Lara could sleep over the next night.
But despite the pounding heart and paranoia, you still feel this pull. Every night, when the moon creeps through your curtains and touches your face, you remember his thumb against your ankle. You can hear the melodic lilt in his voice.
You don’t even know his name or, frankly, what he really is, but you feel drawn to him.
And maybe that’s stupid. Scratch that, it’s definitely stupid. Especially when you remember how you felt as if you had no control over your body at certain points in your conversation with him. But you were drunk! Surely, that wouldn’t ever happen again if you were sober… right?
It’s ridiculous to even be having these thoughts, and to be hoping to catch a glimpse of something splashing in the water as you watch the waves cresting from your porch. But you can’t help but wonder, despite trying your hardest to deprive yourself of that urge.
So in order to fully stick to your rules, you haven’t been going to the beach. In part because you’re afraid of getting attacked again or whatever, and mostly because you’re not sure of what you would do if you saw him again.
It’s embarrassing having to lie to your friends, dodging every attempt of theirs to drag you down to the beach. I picked up a shift at work; my dad wants me to come over for dinner; I forgot to turn in a paper despite the semester ending two weeks ago. They all see right through your lies, and you know it, but they don’t push.
They don’t really know what happened that night, and despite feeling like you remember every detail and explaining your side of the story a million times over, you’re not quite sure if you actually know what you’re talking about. Either way, they don’t push and hope that, eventually, you’ll come around.
Besides, it’s summer! You can’t stay cooped inside for forever!
And they're right, because by the fifth day, you’ve had enough.
You can only binge watch so many episodes of Love Island before the incessant drama begins to rot away your brain. All of the arguing and crying only forces you to think about your own current dilemma. Unable to ignore it any longer, you decide it’s time for you to face your fear.
You step outside, the air still slightly cool from the morning breeze. The sea is calm, glistening in the mid morning sun. The beach is fairly barren, only a few people taking their dogs on a morning stroll. The sun is high in the sky, and you can hear the waves crashing into the sand like a faint whisper from your balcony.
Today is the day. It’s nice out, the sun is shining. Nothing could go wrong.
You trudge down to the beach, walking towards the same jetty where you met that strange… whatever. You face the jetty, hands growing a bit clammy, but other than that, you’re killing this! A few deep breaths, and you have this totally under control! As a matter of fact, you have it so under control, that you decide that you can even walk out to the jetty.
And walk out you do!
The rocks are a little cool, not yet warmed by the afternoon sun. You carefully watch your step, not wanting to slip and fall into the ocean below. The water is calm, only lightly spraying your feet and ankles when a wave abruptly hits the side of the jetty. If you really think about it, the tickle of the seafoam on your legs is like the sea is apologizing for that night… in a way.
See, this isn’t too bad. Nothing to be afraid of.
Maybe you were making shit up—just like your friends suggested. You were pretty drunk, after all. Perhaps, you fell asleep on the jetty and conjured some crazy dream, in which you injured yourself while thrashing around. It certainly wouldn’t exactly explain why the cuts are the perfect size and distance of human—or human-like—fingers. Maybe they’re from teeth? You can’t really remember. But does it really matter?
You’re safe. The water is calm. It’s a nice day, and you’re only a few weeks into your summer break! You should be able to enjoy it.
Things are beginning to look up for you. The five angry lines down your calf are healing, and hopefully, walking out to the exact same spot where you saw this alleged siren-merman- whatever will help with the nightmares and sleepwalking. You’ll finally be able to feel like yourself, and enjoy your summer. Parties, beach trips, and getting drunk with your friends is in your imminent future.
At least until you realize that the same set of slender eyes that you nearly drowned in those days ago is staring back at you, curious and observant through a purple bruise that blooms across his left cheek.
Of course, you scream bloody murder.
It’s just like last time, really, except he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t try to grab you, nor does he try to eat you. Instead, he flinches and covers his ears and waits for you to stop. The worst he does is give you an annoyed glare, but that’s about it. On the other hand, you fall flat on your ass out of fear, flailing and praying to whatever god that might be listening to let you walk out of this alive.
Eventually, you get a grip and are able to quiet down. Chest heaving and hands trembling, you stare at him, the seat of your shorts soaked with sea water the longer you remain paralyzed on your ass. He continues to stare at you, the bottom half of his face submerges, leaving only his eyes remaining. They never leave yours, and you’ll be damned if yours leave his.
As it turns out, your screaming was pointless. No one comes running to save you, no one asks what’s wrong. You're not even sure if the world blinked at your unease. However, he did.
The young whatever-he-is slowly removes his hands from his ears, swimming a hair closer, hesitant, as he takes his face out of the water. He’s just as handsome as you remember, maybe even more, now that you can see him better in the morning light. Water drips from his chin and his lips are set in a small frown, displeased with your sudden outburst.
“You’re loud,” he mutters, eyes squinting.
Your heart is still pounding, and your toes curl reflexively as he moves closer. You’re not sure. You should’ve probably threatened him—told him you had a knife or something. Maybe even said you told the coast guard about him, and they were ready to come pick him up at any minute. Goodbye, Mister Mystery-Creature!
But, of course, you say no such thing.
“You fucking bit me!” you shriek, suddenly pulling down your bandage to reveal five angry lines, even and deep but healing nonetheless.
He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows quirking upwards. “I didn’t bite you. You kicked me,” he retorts.
“Because you bit me!”
“I scratched you,” he answers plainly, his hands coming into view as he places them on the jetty, mere inches away from your feet. He makes no move to grab at them and pull you under. “You kicked me, and I scratched you. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”
And this guy, whoever or whatever he is, says all of this like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Plain as day, pure as milk. He’s still looking at you, eyes wide and easy, still rich like a midnight sky but you can see the sun cresting in his irises, and you finally feel your heart calm.
His eyes begin to wander, sliding down your neck and chest, and eventually landing on your legs. He observes the scratch marks, certainly better than they were even just a few days ago, but still a bit irritated. But then his eyes just stay there, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and wonder as his eyes scan up and down the length of your legs. Legs, knees, ankles, feet, toes—and back up.
While he takes his time analyzing you, you look closer at him. He looks… normal. The face of someone about your age. His cheeks are smooth, cheekbones proud. Strands of his hair stick to his forehead, just like they did the night you met him, spelling out something maybe you’ll one day understand. His mouth is pursed in concentration, a whisper of a dimple showing itself next to his pink pout. His eyebrows are dark and straight, and his nose hooks slightly, although you can’t tell from the front. Overall, a very handsome man.
Moving from his face, you can’t really find anything abnormal from what you can see. Well, except for his hands.
His hands are normal, fingers slender and long like a human's, except for the damn near set of acrylics he has. Sharp and clean, just like claws, but also neutral and thinner like human nails. Seeing them in the daylight like this makes you understand why the damage you suffered was so great.
“Damn, dip and tip!” you exclaim, forgetting all about the nearly debilitating fear you felt a moment ago. Swinging your legs under you, you grab his hand in yours, observing his nails up close.
The young man squeaks, a floundering sound that bubbles up from his chest. His hands are even prettier up close, his nails a light shade of pearl as they file into a point, despite not being too long. He doesn’t try to pull away, nor does he try to pull you down under. He remains very still, like a dog waiting to see what you’ve plucked from their fur.
“They’re very sharp,” you say, stating the obvious.
“Yours are… not.”
You chuckle, letting go of his hand when you become seemingly aware of how strange that must’ve been. Not that this is really normal anyway. “What… are you… exactly?”
He tosses his head back, flicking any hair that was stuck to his forehead away from his face. “Same as you, but different,” he responds, resisting his cheek in his palm.
You shake your head incredulously. “You have a tail. We’re very different.”
He shrugs, moving positions so he can rest against a rock—a makeshift seat. You glimpse at his torso, collarbones glistening in the early morning light. You imagine that swimming in salt water all the time would dry out his skin, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In fact, his skin looks rather smooth. His tail, long and decorated in shades of silver and blue that glisten like a cresting wave when the sunlight hits, stretches out in front of him. It twitches under your stare.
“Depends on what story you hear. Some say sirens, some say merman,” he explains, eyes returning to your face after thoroughly inspecting your legs. “You can say whatever you prefer.”
“And which do you prefer?”
He thinks, long and hard, as his eyes flick upwards to search for the answer. “Jungwon.”
You blink. “The fuck is Jungwon?”
“My name,” he giggles, a sound sweet and friendly like a strawberry dipped in sugar. “Jungwon.”
—
As it turns out, Jungwon is very interesting.
You’re not sure when it became a regular thing for you to see him—it’s not something the two of you ever really discussed—but each day, without fail, you two meet up every morning. Sometimes you two just watch each other in peaceful silence, soaking in every difference and similarity. It’s not every day you run into a siren, and you can imagine Jungwon isn’t seeing humans on the regular either. Unless, he is. You’ll have to ask him.
But because he doesn’t know any humans, other than you—you think—he tends to have a lot of questions.
Jungwon has asked you if it’s hard to control your legs—you assume it’s because there’s two, instead of one like his tail; he’s also asked questions like what do humans eat, what do they do for fun, and why do they swim so weirdly. Of course, you answer to the best of your ability, but sometimes it’s hard to explain. So instead, you show him.
When you told him that humans eat mostly anything they want, he didn’t believe you. But when you brought a bag of goodies for him to try, you barely got a chance to eat the gummies you brought before he devoured them. You told him what you did for fun, and even let him play around with your phone after he dried his hands off. You would’ve entertained him with swimming, but you were still a bit weary of him. The cuts on your leg were still healing, after all.
But despite how eager you were to answer any and all of his questions, you were a bit shy to ask your own.
“What were you doing the night we met?” Jungwon asks, nibbling on a pineapple flavored gummy bear while you lazily scanned a book your father lent you on aquatic folklore. It was a bit difficult to explain your sudden interest to your father, especially after finding it trivial your whole life, but years of pretending to not be drunk in dire situations led you to be quite the actress.
“Excuse me?” you ask, thumbing the page.
Jungwon turns to fully face you, chin resting on his forearms. You wonder if they have hand-held weights wherever he lives—-his biceps are, well, nice.
“Why were you at the beach so late the night we met?” he asks again, lazily tracing the marbled grain of a rock.
You shrug, shoving the book in your bag. Hopefully he didn’t catch the title. “There’s a big party on the beach every summer. I go every year,” you explain, reaching out your palm in hopes that he’ll let you eat the snack that you brought.
“A party?”
You nod as he places a singular gummy bear in your hand. Stingy. “Yeah, like a gathering of people. Where you have fun,”
“I know what a party is,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I just forgot the word.”
“Oh,” you nod. You don’t know why it is surprising to you that he had a lapse of memory, but you sort of just assumed that Jungwon had always spoken and understood your language. “Do you speak something else at home?”
He averts his gaze towards the water, looking over the ripples of waves as the early morning light glints off their crests. Suddenly feeling like you had overstepped, you try to dismiss the question in a flurry of gestures and sour faces.
His eyes trace back towards you, amusement hidden beneath his deep eyes. “Yeah. I don’t talk like how I talk with you back home,” he answers plainly.
You absorb this new information, willing yourself to relax a bit. “What do you speak then?” you wonder.
Jungwon purses his lips, eyes roaming towards the sky as if the answer will be etched into the clouds. “I don’t really think there’s a human equivalent.”
“Why can you talk like me then?” you implore, mind flowing with questions you had been too shy to ask previously.
He smiles, finding your questions endearing. Jungwon wonders if this is how you feel when he asks you questions about humans—warm. Cute.
“I’ve read it on boats, heard it from sailors,” he responds, reaching for the bag of gummy bears. He pushes a green one between two pink lips. “Merfolk are good with sounds. It’s not too hard to learn.” He watches you nod thoughtfully, gears turning many miles a minute. He kind of wishes he could walk through your mind. At least for an hour. “Is it not the same for humans?”
You shake your head, giggling. “No, it takes humans a while to learn new languages,” you say, turning to lay on your side comfortably. “Some can learn in a few years though.”
This baffles Jungwon, that pinch at the top of his nose forming that you have begun to grow acquainted with. “Humans really are stupid.”
You shove his head under the water.
—
Ever since that day with Jungwon, your relationship has become a lot easier. Strange. But easier.
He waits for you like always, sunning himself on the rocks before retreating a little further into the water when you arrive as if he’s shy. Shy of what? You’re not sure. You’d rather him stay sunning himself—you rather enjoy the view. However, it doesn’t take long before he starts to cozy up against the jetty again once you two begin your early morning check ups.
You’ve actually learned a lot about Jungwon these past few days. Not only about him, but about merfolk. Merfolk travel in groups, like orcas or tuna. Usually it’s confined to family, according to Jungwon, but you’re allowed to interact with merfolk outside of your kin. Blushing, he admits that typically one only travels outside of the pack when finding a mate—which you teased him relentlessly about—but there’s no strict rules on not interacting with someone outside of a familial pod. Sort of like interacting with strangers on the street—it’s not that it’s not allowed, it just might be a little strange. That is, of course, unless you’re looking to date or exchange numbers or make out in the back of some dingy bar.
He also explains that it’s hard to know where to locate merfolk. There are some established colonies, but those are in places humans have yet to discover. You could go your whole life without seeing another pod, you suppose. However, many familial pods live further out at sea.
“Why were you so close to the shore that night then?” you ask, doodling on the corner of some magazine you brought to show Jungwon. He took only a slight interest, preferring to learn from you than some paper.
“Lost track of where I was, I guess.”
And that was that. But Jungwon says he has friends and family, and tells you that merfolk are definitely on the higher end of the food chain—so don’t get it twisted!—but he mainly tells you that after you expressed concern that he would get eaten by a shark and you would never see him again.
“Merfolk are smarter than sharks, I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, eyeing your legs like he’s done many times before. You’re not too sure why he hasn’t asked you about them yet. He’s asked you about nearly everything else, besides the obvious.
“But sharks are, like, really fast,” you explain, as if you know better than him. Mind you, the ocean is literally his home.
He eyes you for a second, a teasing glint in his eye surfacing slowly but surely. “Do you want to see me fight a shark?”
You flick him in the forehead, which he whines before he flicks you back. “Don’t be weird.”
Jungwon tells you that merfolk and humans aren’t really supposed to interact. Obviously, there’s been a history of encounters—there’s too many stories for them to be fictional like you once believed—but it’s still frowned upon. Many merfolk have been hurt or exploited, even killed in some instances by humans. You promised Jungwon that you would never do that to him. He believes you.
However, Jungwon never really addresses the elephant in the room. Of course, there are many cultural and behavioral differences. And don’t get it wrong, you enjoy learning about them. They’re fascinating! You would’ve never imagined a whole different world beyond the one you know. Hell, you didn’t even think a world like Jungwon’s existed before you met him! Even then you were in denial. But what you really want to know about are your physical differences.
To be fair, Jungwon is curious about them too. He eyes your legs and feet and toes every time he sees you. He watches your mouth carefully, inspecting the lack of fangs and the lack of webbing between your fingers. It baffles him, and it certainly baffles you. But you know Jungwon. He won’t be the one to ask—he gets shy about these things. So it’s going to have to be you.
Bite the bullet, jump off the cliff, and ask what the hell it’s like having a fish tail.
One morning, when the sun was still low and the sky not yet a bright orange, you decide to ask while Jungwon rests across a rock, lazing about as usual. He’s not really a morning person, something you learn the more and more you two see of each other. Perhaps the excitement has disappeared. Or perhaps, the comfortability has set in.
His tail, a brilliant silver and an even richer shade of cobalt, wades leisurely in the water behind him. You watch his back rise and fall, his eyes shut and mouth in a pink pout from being pressed against his arm. He looks peaceful. Calm. Cute. What better way to ruin it by asking an obnoxious question?
“Can I touch your tail?”
Jungwon’s back stills, his whole body going rigid to the point that you are reminded that he is part animal. He lifts his head slowly, a bright red circle imprinted on his cheek from laying on it for too long. You almost want to laugh, but the look he gives you—wild and confused—makes you think better of it. After the seventh second of straight silence, you decide to back track.
“Or your hands?” What. “Or your teeth?” Worse. “Or just anything that isn’t really human-like for that matter?” What the fuck is wrong with you.
Jungwon is so genuinely stunned that you’re not even sure if he’s breathing anymore. He shakes his head, tiny droplets of water falling from his hair that never seems to fully dry. Jungwon begins to think a crab crawled into his ear because he can not believe what he’s hearing.
“You want to touch my tail?”
He’s making you nervous. “Sorry, was that offensive to ask? I don’t really know how to go about this.”
He’s still quiet, something you’ve never known from Jungwon. Comfortable silence is one thing, and you two quite enjoy existing together in that way. However, once you say something, Jungwon always responds. Not now.
“I just…” you begin, slowing once you notice his gaze.
Jungwon’s eyes are sleek, narrow and lidded as if he’s stalking his next victim. And you’ve never seen Jungwon hunt—you don’t know if he’s good or bad at it—but you imagine this is what it must feel like to be his prey. Tense, shaken, maybe a little bit aroused—you don’t know! You don’t know if fish can feel that way. But you certainly do.
His eyes never leave your face, watching carefully for any abrupt changes. It feels alarming to have him look this intensely at you. Of course, he knows what you look like. He’s seen you plenty. However, you’ve never felt as observed as you do now. Even when he eyes your legs or listens to you blab on about something unimportant, you never felt watched. Except for now.
Suddenly feeling as if all the air in the outside world was sucked up and being sold for a billion dollars—which, of course, you can’t afford—you grow very still. You might as well never breathe again at this rate, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. You need to bring yourself back down to Earth, and hopefully bring him with you too.
“You just always look at my legs, and I know you’re probably curious, so… I don’t know. I thought it could be fun? That sounds stupid. Um, what I mean is that we’re obviously biologically different. And not ‘cause you’re a boy and I’m girl, but because I’m a human and you’re… not. So, I thought, what better way to understand each other more than to explore each other’s bodies?”
You definitely deserve to drown after that shit show.
Jungwon’s mouth parts, and you’re sure it’s to call you a slew of embarrassing names, but instead he says: “You can touch my tail.”
He makes no fuss, only maneuvering himself so he can lay himself on a rock, his tail and fins resting across the jetty. He’s mostly submerged in the water, but this is the closest you’ve been to his tail. It’s actually quite pretty.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, and in any other circumstance, the question would prompt you to joke that he’s some sort of pervert. But when he looks at you like that, eyes shiny and imploring, so gentle and sweet, you’re rendered silent. You almost wish you could take him home with you. You don’t almost wish, you do wish it, but that would be impossible.
“Hell yeah,” you say, beginning to rip off your shorts to reveal your bikini bottoms that you always wear in case you decide today is the day you swim around with Jungwon. Show him a little freestyle or breast stroke! Well, you guess today is the day.
You slide into the small wedge of space next to Jungwon, not quite sitting across from him, but hovering between his fins and torso. Your knee bumps against his waist, murmuring a quick sorry, as he helps guide you into the water. The water is cold, but that’s not why you have goosebumps.
He holds your elbow gently, only letting go once he’s sure you’re steady and comfortable. He looks at you, waiting and expecting, eyes drifting between your own and your hands that hold your legs close to your body.
Unbeknownst to you as to why, but you’re nervous. You’ve never been this close to Jungwon before, and you’ve certainly never seen his body this well.
Usually he keeps himself fairly submerged, the water distorting his tail and creating hypnotizing lines across his chest. If he’s not submerged, he’s laying with his back facing upwards, which, of course, you don’t mind. His back is nice. It’s broad. And very muscular. And defined. Some might even say sexy. But you're beginning to like the idea of seeing his torso too.
He keeps one hand resting on his stomach, the other resting on a rock near your shoulder. He’s really good looking. Really good looking, like, go-to-war-for-that-face good looking. To make matters worse, he’s still looking at your complexion, watching your every move, reassuring himself that you’re not uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to…” he whispers, chuckling slightly. He’s not sure why he whispers, but he feels that if he should speak any louder, this moment between you would be broken. And Jungwon definitely wants to preserve this moment for as long as he can.
“I want to, just,” you sigh, eyes drifting from his tail to his face. He looks at you with such interest that you almost begin to thank the sea for giving you your very own pearl. “I’m shy.”
He giggles, leaning a bit closer to you. “You're shy?”
You nod. “I’m shy.”
He hums again, a sound so melodic you finally understand why you almost dove into the water for him that first night. His smile is sweet and soft as he taps your shoulder mercifully. “Come here,” he says, taking your smaller hand in his. “I’ll do it with you.”
He pulls your hand under the cool water, directing it towards the top of his tail. It’s nothing like you imagined. You pictured it to be a bit rougher—sort of like when you run your hands along those color changing sequin pillows; it’s nothing like that. It’s smoother than you expected, only a small ridge felt whenever you glide your hand upwards along the scales. He stays very still, almost not breathing for the sake of not scaring you off.
Your hand creeps a bit higher, towards his hips and his abs instinctively flex. He hopes you don’t notice, but of course you do. Thank god you’re already in the water or else another kind of wetness would be quite noticeable.
You decide to leave him alone, noticing the curl of his lips that he only gets when he’s a little embarrassed and agree to focus your attention on the fin that rests next to your torso. It’s quite large, certainly larger than your head. The blue becomes lighter, more of a sky blue than the royal blue that stripes along his side, as it fans along the length of his fin. The tips of his fin curl gently inwards, more like a dolphin than the pet goldfish you had growing up. It’s cute.
“You can relax, you know,” you huff a giggle, catching his eyes as he watches your every movement.
Jungwon releases whatever breath he was holding, a nervous laugh following soon after. His hands finding your calf, the same one he scratched weeks ago. He traces the faint scar with his nail, a whisper of a touch that you’re no longer intimidated by.
“Is this okay?” he asks. Of course, you nod.
You two stay like that for awile: in the silence, feeling along each other. His hands glide over your skin, and yours slide along his scales. A new exploration that you’re sure millions would die to experience, and not even because he’s a creature of myths but because he’s so undeniably handsome it kind of makes you wonder if he’s even real.
A slight tug on your pinky toe pulls you out of your admiration, squirming a bit as he tickles your foot unintentionally. “What does this even do?” he says, bringing your foot right in front of his face. “It’s so small.”
“It’s supposed to help with balance or something,” you chuckle. He rotates your ankle in all the ways it can go, mesmerized by the flexibility of a singular joint.
“How? It’s so tiny.”
You fail to suppress a giggle as his finger runs along the sole of your foot, causing your leg to kick out a nearly hit him in the face. He narrowly escapes—another—black eye, wrestling your leg back into the water and pressing it between his ribs and arm, as if it were a sea snake trying to attack him.
“What?”
“It tickles.”
He snorts, eyes carving into sweet crescent moons that shine even under the bright sun. “You don’t see me complaining," he says, a slight snobiness in his voice. Certainly you couldn’t have taught him that.
“I’m sorry,” you reply, insincerely. “Am I hurting you?” you question, a bit more genuine than your previous statement as you readjust the strength with which you were touching his tail.
Jungwon shakes his head, beginning to run his hand up and down your knee, clearly captivated by the jut of bone that protrudes when it bends. “You could never hurt me,” he reassures softly.
“I literally kicked you in the face that one time,” you scoff.
He smiles cutely, his dimples putting on a pretty show just for you. “Better than being slapped with a fin,” he replies, making a face to show you that he’s definitely been slapped by a fin before and it definitely hurt.
The more you know Jungwon, the better his speech becomes. But because Jungwon sometimes doesn’t recognize certain words that you say, you suspect that this is the first time he’s had to learn another language; only to discover that he’s fluent in several languages, some human and some not. Apparently, there are nearly a thousand different merfolk dialects, all of which are easy to pick up for other merfolk.
“Wait, I want to try.”
“You’re not going to be able to understand,” Jungwon says plainly, peeking one eye open as he rests his head on his arms. You guess he also gets sleepy in the morning.
“Try me.”
Jungwon sits up, making room for your legs as you scooch forward and dip your feet into the water. He narrows his eyes at you, their pretty, round shape becoming taunting slits as he contemplates if this is a secret he wants to let you in on.
“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring it when your ankle bumps against his hip, instead wrapping his fingers around it as if to anchor himself.
“I’m actually really smart, Jungwon. I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” you scoff.
He giggles, the sun bouncing off of his eyes and warming them to a thrilling degree. “Maybe because you said swordfish and barracuda’s are basically the same thing,” he explains.
“Key word: basically,” you groan, flicking water at him with your foot. He barely flinches. “C’mon! I want to learn.”
Jungwon sighs, splashing a little bit of water against your leg since he can never let you win before he speaks. Whatever the hell he says, you can’t even begin to guess. It’s a series of clicks, whistles, and purrs—a language so fluid and ancient that it's pointless to try to follow. It pours from his mouth just like a quiet stream, a sound so wise and inviting. It’s a short sentence, whatever it is that he says, and he looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide and shiny just like the early morning waves. He almost looks shy.
You’re breathless.
“Does that mean ‘I want more gummy bears’ or something?” you guess, which causes Jungwon to laugh so loudly you’re afraid your secret might be shared. “Seriously, what does that mean?”
He hums, and you almost think it’s another phrase in his mother tongue before he sends you that cheeky smile. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” he smiles.
You want to wipe that dimple off his face. Or better yet, steal it and put it in your pocket. “I hate you,” you groan, wiping your hands down your face in frustration. “Can’t you just tell me?”
He hums again. “I'll tell you when you’re ready.”
—
After a while, the morning schedule grew to be a bit too demanding. You and Jungwon kept falling asleep, often waking up covered in brine and suntanned limbs that weren’t always yours, but welcome nonetheless. However, because of your unexpected slumber, you began to miss the time you spent talking with him. Turns out, Jungwon did too, as he’s the one to suggest that you two meet up later in the day, when the beach goers return home for dinner. You couldn’t have come up with a better plan yourself.
After spending the day in the blazing sun with your friends, shopping in an outdoor mall and spending all of the weekly budget you set aside for yourself, you’re more than happy to jump into the water for a swim in your new bikini.
Jungwon watches you as you leisurely paddle about, ignoring as his eyes burn your skin despite the refreshing water. He pushes off the jetty and glides over to you, his tail trailing behind him much more gracefully than your flailing legs. And it’s not even that you’re a bad swimmer—you’re actually pretty decent—but next to Jungwon, you might as well be a piece of plastic floating next to a sweet little jellyfish.
“Let me help,” he says, reaching for your hands as he begins to notice you growing tired of treading water.
You push him with no real force, trying to swim away playfully as if your muscles aren’t begging for some reprieve. “I can swim fine, thank you,” you insist, kicking water up in hopes of annoying him.
But Jungwon, ever the most patient, doesn’t give in. “I know you can swim fine,” he reassures. “But still, let me help you.”
He doesn’t wait for your response before tugging you towards him by your ankle. You flip on your back, floating helplessly in the water as he holds your foot to his chest. He’s warm, unlike most sea creatures—at least, you assume—letting you feel the steady drum of his heart under the sole of your foot. It picks up slightly when you flash him a breathless smile, but you choose to ignore it for his sake. He can get quite bashful, you’ve begun to learn after the countless times you've caught him staring.
“You caught me,” you sigh, deciding to relax and let him take over. This is his domain after all.
He lightly pulls you towards him, letting go of your foot and instead hooking his arms around your waist. You drape your arms over his broad shoulders, trying your hardest not to think about how sturdy he feels under your palms. The flex of his shoulder muscle was definitely tempting—dare you say delicious—but alas, one must persist!
“I caught you,” he smiles, so close that your noses almost brush. However, it only lasts a brief second before he blushes and turns away, pretending there is something far more interesting on the left of you. You’re sure that the seagull that has been floating a few yards away for the last five minutes is not more captivating than you—if his glances are anything to go by—but you’ll ignore it. For now. “Relax. I got you.”
And relax, you do. Your arms and legs are spent from swimming around. So much for cooling off! Resting your head on Jungwon’s shoulder, you let the water decorating his skin cool the heat bubbling in your face. You hope he’s too absorbed in whatever it is he’s staring at to notice.
It doesn’t matter if he does notice anyway, you think. It’s not like anything would come of it. Seriously, he’s a whole different creature. There’s no world in which that could possibly fly. But for now, you’ll enjoy what you have and make the most of it.
“Is this okay?” you ask, more worried that he’s now holding up your entire bodyweight rather than your proximity to one another.
He nods, tucking his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. You’re sure you smell like the sea, but you’re also sure that he doesn’t mind. He literally lives in the ocean. “I like being close to you,” he says, as if it isn’t the most devastating thing for you to hear. But before you can even open your mouth to ask what he means, he swerves towards a different conversation. “What do you do when you’re not here with me?”
You lean back, now met with those same pair of eyes that consistently sweep you off your feet—literally. Jungwon leans away from you too, eyes flickering back and forth like he can’t decide where he would prefer to focus. It’s cute.
“Depends,” you reply, pushing his wet hair away from his forehead. He attempts to swat your hand away but fails. It’s not like he was really trying either way. “Sometimes I work, sometimes I go to my parents’ house. Most of the time, I’m with my friends if I’m not with you.”
“What are your parents like?”
“My mom’s cool,” you answer. You like when he asks you questions like this. It makes you feel like you can bring a piece of him with you when you leave the beach—almost as if he’s a regular human man and you’re a regular woman, just hanging out with her friend. Friend? Situationship? No. That sounds stupid. “My dad is kind of weird, though. I don’t know if you two would get along.”
Jungwon cocks his head to the side, confused. “Why not?”
You shrug, trying to think of the least creepy way to confess that your dad is very obsessed with sea creatures. “He just is.”
That’ll have to do. Jungwon nods, although he seems unsatisfied.
“What about your parents?”
Jungwon sighs, his fingers tracing swirls along the small of your back. It tickles, but you don’t mind. A funny look crosses his face, as if he’s hiding something from you, but you won’t pry. You like watching him think. Whenever Jungwon is deep in thought, he tends to purse his lips in a perfectly kissable way and look up towards the sky, as if the clouds will sketch out the answer for him. It never works, and he always ends up having to use his brain power instead. It’s still endearing nonetheless.
“My mom and dad are a little afraid of humans,” he admits. “They wouldn’t understand why I like spending time with you so much.”
“Oh,” you nod slowly, digesting this new information. Afraid of humans. “Why?”
“I don’t know how to put it,” he confesses, tugging you a little closer like he’s worried you’ll back away if he says the wrong thing. You begin to draw the same pattern on his shoulder, and that seems to calm him a little if the swish of his tail is anything to go by. “I guess it’s just unfamiliarity. The only times they interact are typically on a full moon, and that’s usually a dangerous time for both of us. I guess I’m lucky that you’re the only human I know.”
You shoot him a bewildered look, one that stops him cold. “Why is it dangerous?”
The swirls on your back stop, and Jungwon’s spine grows rigid, every bit the animal side of him you’re very well aware of whenever he asserts his strength over you or you catch sight of the gills on his side. “Let’s talk about something else.”
You nod, looking away from his suddenly stoic expression. Dangerous? You can understand why humans and merfolk don’t interact much for a series of reasons—fishing, poaching, oil spills… Besides, you’re not too sure humans would be all too kind to merfolk if they were to spot one in broad daylight. However, during the full moon? Why hadn’t he mentioned that to you before? It has been nearly a month since you’ve known Jungwon, and you’ve seen him nearly every day since that fateful night—safe for maybe twice when you caught a bizarre summer flu. Would he have told you if it weren’t for this conversation?
“What do you like to do with your friends?” he asks, trying to catch your eyes.
You flinch, suddenly scaring yourself with all of the possibilities of what his previous statement might mean. But when you look into his eyes, deeper than twilight, you know that he would never hurt you. Sure, he’s stronger. He’s faster. His nails are kind of sharp, and some of his teeth file into a point. However, he’s always been gentle with you. Soft spoken and kind. The sweetest out of anyone or anything you’ve ever met. And suddenly, you feel like crying for ever doubting Jungwon’s care for you. He always remembers everything you say, and asks questions the best he can, even if he doesn’t understand. He listens like it’s his lifeline, his duty, and watches you closely to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or aren’t growing tired of spending time with him. You think he might be the nicest person you’ve ever met, despite giving you that scar on your calf. But it’s something to remember him by; it’s a piece of him you can take with you. You know him, and he sure as hell knows you.
Reaching upwards, you delicately trace the underside of his jaw. His eyes widen slightly, shocked by your bold movement, but he melts into it as if he can’t help it. You wish you could watch him melt over and over again. He leans into your hand, chasing the touch and sighs, an airy sound that you would totally make fun of him for if you weren’t also completely invested in this moment.
“Talk. Just like we do,” you answer simply, poking the small freckle on the side of his chin.
He smiles softly, holding you even tighter if possible. “I hope you don’t talk with them exactly like how we talk,” he huffs, pouting.
God, you could kiss it off. Focus!
“Not exactly,” you reassure, allowing your eyes to wander to his mouth for a split second. You hope the triangle method hasn’t also infected the seven seas, and that the merfolk when Jungwon comes from are unaware of what it could mean. “We go out to eat, go to parties… sleepovers,” you sigh. “I like spending time with you more, though.”
Jungwon hopes you can’t notice, but he thinks his heart just skipped a beat before slamming against his ribcage. “Really?” he wonders.
You nod shyly, entranced by every small curve and line of his face. Jungwon follows your lead, examining every detail that makes you whole, and pretending as if he hasn’t been discreetly doing that the entire time.
One thing about you is that you’re usually always very composed. Very focused. He never watches your eyes wander, whereas he can’t seem to stop looking at you. He loves watching the way your lips form when you talk, when you smile, and he loves watching you think and nap and swim—despite it looking kind of funny to him—and how you breathe. Nothing you could do would be boring to him. You’re always interesting. He wonders how you do it.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks abruptly, as if he doesn’t see you every day.
You look at him, almost solemn. Tracing his jaw again, you allow yourself to relish in the comfort of him before you burst this little bubble you two have created for yourselves.
“I’m out all day, and then the girls are coming over to mine,” you groan, almost annoyed at the fact that you do have a life outside of swimming and lazing around with Jungwon. “Yunjin’s cousin Chaewon broke up with her partner finally, and we’re going to get drunk to celebrate her leaving that awful man.”
“Drunk?”
“That funny way I was acting when we first met,” you explain, now gliding your finger tips across his collarbone. It’s so dainty. You wonder how someone that strong could also seem so delicate. “It happens when you drink something called alcohol.”
He nods slowly, downtrodden. You can tell he’s upset that he won’t be able to see you tomorrow, and he knows that you can tell too. It’s not often that you two skip a day from seeing each other.
You hug him closer, tucking yourself into the crook of his neck. Jungwon hugs you back, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other arm cradles your head against him. You could so easily kiss his neck if you wanted. It’s right there, and your lips are practically pressed against it. But you can’t, and you won’t.
Pulling away, you point to your house—white with the porch and baby blue shutters—that sits in a row of houses that look down on the beach from their cliffside perch. He follows your finger, nearly pressing his cheek to yours to make sure he’s following the correct eyeline.
“That’s my house. Just look over there if you ever miss me, okay?” you tell him. He stares at your house for a good while, memorizing its shape and the houses neighboring yours.
“Okay,” he nods, looking to you once he feels it’s been sufficiently ingrained in his mind. “Maybe I’ll show up for this ‘break-up’ celebration.”
You snort. “As if.”
—
You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of having fun right now.
Everyone’s on their second glass of wine, snacks and candy thrown across your coffee table to fuel the gossip of tonight’s gathering. Your friends are all screaming and giggling, cozily lounging about in their pajamas. And you hate to admit it, you really do, but you’re having a blast.
Of course, you missed seeing Jungwon today. You had a comically horrible shift at your job today that you would’ve loved to tell him about, but there’s always tomorrow! Maybe you have grown a little too attached to him. Although you’ve seen your friends heaps of times over this summer, your mind has always been somewhere else—somewhere where Jungwon is present.
But now, as Chaewon explains how she found her ex’s Tinder profile and how she confronted him, you’re okay with Jungwon taking a back seat for now. You have your girls. They have you. All is well.
“And then, when I confronted him about it, this motherfucker had the audacity to blame it on me!” Chaewon all but shrieks as she slams her hands down on your coffee table, rattling the array of wine glasses you snagged from the back of your cupboard. All of you gasp, shoveling popcorn and sour gummies into your mouths as you lean in, fully invested. “He tried to tell me that if I listened to him more whenever he talked about his dumb fucking video games, then he wouldn’t have cheated. Bitch, if you had given me better head, maybe I would’ve been more inclined to listen!”
Lara howls with laughter, as Yunjin and Daniela run a lap around your living room to calm themselves down. You damn near choke on your wine, letting the rosé warm your cheeks. You’re happy.
But you’re even happier to hear the doorbell ring for pizza.
“Fucking finally!” Yunjin exclaims, reclaiming her spot on your couch next to her cousin. “I’m starving.”
“Thank fuck—they got here early,” you say, not even bothering to check the Uber Eats status on your phone. You hop up from your spot on the rug, shuffling down the hallway towards your front door. Peaking into the bathroom, stationed right next to the door, you check to make sure you don’t look too flustered—just in case this is someone you remember from high school and want to impress for some reason. After deciding your hair looks voluminous and your tits sit great in your tank top, you decide you’re certainly presentable enough to face this pizza delivery man.
However, upon opening the door, you realize that there is no pizza delivery man. In fact, there isn’t even a pizza.
You recognize his eyes first. Hell, you’d recognize those eyes out of a billion. You could’ve been blinded by the sun, scorched by acid, and hit by a car before you wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, caught off guard by being face to face with a pair of eyes you’re familiar with, it takes your brain a few seconds to register one very crucial factor: you’ve never seen these eyes other than at the beach.
You aren’t at the beach. You’re at your house.
Not only are you at your house, but your house is up a hill. One needs legs to walk up a hill, or anything for that matter. So why would these pair of eyes, one that you’re both very elated and very confused to see, be at your front door step? Oh, only for one reason of course!
Jungwon has sprung fucking legs.
“Hi,” he smiles shyly.
A bodily reaction that one could only describe as both becoming a human rocket and rigor mortis occurs within you all at once. Your body shakes so violently that you’ve gone still. You’re practically frozen. Mouth opening and closing rather quickly, you struggle to find the words you need to be able to articulate how you feel in this very moment. Jungwon seems pleased. He even has the nerve to giggle a little bit as he watches your brain work over time.
Part of you wants to think you were roofied. Why would you have been roofied? You don’t know, not that there is ever a justifiable reason to be roofied. But maybe your friends slipped something to you that you didn’t second guess enough—maybe an edible? Yes. It has to be an edible. Why else would you be picturing Jungwon on your front step with fucking legs? Did you seriously miss him that bad? How pathetic!
But when Yunjin shouts for you to hurry up with the pizza, you realize this is no bad trip and this is no hallucination. Jungwon is here—at your front door—with legs. And he’s fucking naked.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” you scream, all of the neurons in your brain suddenly firing all at once.
Jungwon yelps as you tug him inside, stumbling over his feet—feet that you’re not entirely sure he knows how to work yet—as you shove him into your bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, you run to your bedroom, ignoring the concerned looks of your friends as you nearly wipe out while turning the corner.
Shuffling through your drawers and closet, you eventually find a pair of sweatpants that you snagged from an ex-boyfriend and a top that you’re sure your dad gave to you as a sleep shirt if the sheer enormity of it is enough to go by. Hopefully, it’ll fit Jungwon. Although, it seems that he has absolutely no problem with being in the fucking nude.
Wait. He was naked.
You were so surprised to see him that you barely had a chance to recognize the severity of the situation. Not only could your neighbors have seen some random man—although not random to you—standing on your front porch, but they might have seen him butt-fucking-naked. Thankfully, he had the decency to not fully expose himself. At least, you think.
You rush back to the front bathroom before any of your friends can catch onto the problem at hand. You fling the door open, Jungwon practically plastered against the wall as he looks at you and the clothes in your hands. Glancing towards the ceiling in hopes of giving him some privacy, you offer him the clothes.
“I don’t really have anything else for you to wear, and you can’t be fucking naked in front of me,” you say.
Jungwon just stares at the clothes, confused. You shake your hands aggressively, and he eventually takes it, trying his best to figure out how to put the clothes on.
Jungwon tries to stick his foot through one of the holes, but he ends up losing his balance and nearly crashing to the floor. You manage to catch his arm and tug him up straight, but not before he knocks over a soap bottle and a couple of decorative items on the bathroom sink.
“Shh!” you hush, accidentally glancing down in attempts to see if he had hurt himself at all. But upon catching a glimpse of the skin on his thigh, your eyes shoot straight back upwards. “My friends will hear you.”
Eventually, he does okay with the pants, only stumbling a few times. He finds his balance by gripping the sink counter and is able to get his feet through the sweatpants, wriggling them up over his new legs. Finally looking away from the ceiling, you come face to face with a flustered and bashful Jungwon. Fuck, maybe you did miss him.
“Hi. Sorry,” he whispers, smiling like the situation is funny. And to him, it is. He hasn’t seen you lose your cool this bad since the first time he met you, and he couldn’t even register how out of character that was because he didn’t know you then. Now he knows you. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, handing the shirt back to you.
“Oh,” you blink, taking the cotton fabric in your hands. You bunch the fabric up towards the neck, standing on your toes so you can tug it over his head. His face pops right out, giving you a sheepish grin. For the first time since he’s stepped foot on your property, you return the favor. You guide his arms through the sleeves, the t-shirt sitting quite comfortably on his broad frame. The pants are a little long, sweeping the floor a bit whenever he shuffles about, but it’ll do. For anyone else, they’ll think it’s a fashion choice. “Do… Do these feel okay? Are you comfortable?”
He looks down towards the clothes he’s managed to put on, gaze returning to your face as quickly as it left. “I think so,” he nods. “I don’t really know what they’re supposed to feel like.”
“Right,” you say, because, really, what else is there to say?
You finally take a good look at Jungwon, now that he’s dressed and you feel like you have permission to ogle a bit. He’s dry, for starters. No matter how long he suns himself, it seems like his hair is always wet. Now it’s… well… dry. It doesn’t seem to be damaged from the copious amounts of salt water that have touched it over the years; it seems quite soft and much longer than you originally thought as he blows a strand away from his forehead. He’s taller than you, and you’re not sure why that surprises you. His tail was quite long. But that was a tail. Not legs. His shoulders are broad, that of which you already knew, but seeing them hidden by the silly shirt draping his frame is sort of driving you crazy. You miss them. “How… what…?”
He sighs and takes a shaky step towards you. Instinctively, you reach your arms out to prevent him from falling but he just wraps his arms around you, simple and plain. His heart raps wildly against his chest, and it’s probably due to the excitement of the day but you selfishly hope it’s for you.
“Jungwon, how the fuck did you get here?” you mumble into the t-shirt, not quite ready to let go just yet. You hate to admit it, but perhaps your heart is also pumping a bit faster than usual. And perhaps it’s because of him.
“My friend told me a story,” he starts, pulling away from you so he can look into your eyes. He’s beaming. “That some merfolk can turn into humans. So I tried it, and it works!” he grins, shaking your shoulders in excitement. “Not everyone can do it, apparently. But I can!”
You look down at his legs. “I can’t believe you’re a fucking human.”
“I’m a fucking human!” he shouts, nearly toppling over from sheer excitement. “Now I can see you all the time.” His eyes are so sincere and your heart nearly bursts.
“Yeah,” you nod, smiling ear to ear. “You can.”
Just then, a knock sounds from the door behind you and Jungwon practically jumps out of his skin.
“Who the fuck is in the bathroom with you?!” Yunjin shrieks.
Riiight, my friends are here, you think. Shit.
—
Explaining Jungwon to the girls was a lot easier than you thought it was going to be. Of course, you didn’t tell the truth. That wouldn’t go over well. But what they won’t know, won’t kill them. After successfully explaining to them that Jungwon was a friend from school who surprised you by coming into town, they were more than accepting of his presence. After all, a cute boy showing up on your door step for an impromptu visit? They’re just happy you’re back in the dating game—or so they think.
It’s funny seeing Jungwon sit amongst your friends, the stillness in a sea of tipsy giggles. Jungwon stays quiet most of the time, eagerly listening to all of their stories, but mostly enthralled by the amount of human snacks he now easily has at his disposal.
When everyone leaves, and you’re all alone with him, you’re not quite sure of what to do. Considering you’ve been alone with him many times before, it’s almost comical. But now he’s in your house. He’s human. Both are facts that you never thought would actually be true.
You stay up with him for a long time after your friends leave. Still shocked as you watch the young man curled up in the corner of your couch, fascinated by the way his toes wiggle and scrunch. He quickly learns the art of footsies, as he can’t help but touch you, even as the two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch. And although you’re not exactly a fan of feet, you don’t mind entertaining a game of footsies as long as it’s with Jungwon.
He’s amazed by the TV, eyes reflecting purple and red and all kinds of neon as he does his best to absorb the new information he’s receiving. It’s like a speed course on human behavior. Eventually, you have to turn off the television so he’ll pay attention to you, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll just have to watch more of this another time if you let him.
Upon intense questioning, Jungwon reiterates what he told you earlier but in greater detail. His friend, Sunghoon, had told him of a long forgotten, and seemingly taboo, tale of how some merfolk could walk on land. He said it was a trend centuries ago, before the oceans had been polluted by human behavior. It was seen as a form of entertainment. Sometimes it was done for pleasure. However, once humans began to destroy the sea with their many devices, merfolk stopped trying to blend in with and learn from humans. It was too hazardous.
Jungwon shares that he tried to gather more information, asking his elders if it was possible for merfolk to become human but the conversation was always shut down. It wasn’t until his grandmother indulged in a secret that her grandmother used to be a land walker. That she would bathe herself in light and join the humans at her leisure. She warned that that was ages ago; times have changed. However, this meant that he also had the ability to do the same.
He followed his grandmother's instructions, finding a quiet and safe place to bathe in the sun. According to him, it took awhile. But once the sun was set, he had begun to sprung legs.
“Was it painful?” you asked, rubbing your foot along his calf.
Jungwon shakes his head slowly, watching the movement of your leg. “It was sort of uncomfortable. But it's not painful.”
He shares how he practiced walking, deciding to disguise himself in the dark of night to prevent anyone from seeing him. Just in case, he said. He said it was hard, and how he’s not sure how humans are able to do it so easily. Or how they’re able to run! That’s a whole new challenge, but he’s willing to learn.
“I remember you pointed to where your house was, and I just tried my best to walk there,” he said, now moving to be closer to you. He’s still trying to understand that his legs get in the way, so after his knee digs into your leg uncomfortably, he shifts to tuck his legs beneath himself. “I was really tired but when I saw you, I couldn’t feel it anymore,” he smiles, slightly taller than you from the way he’s perched. “I was so happy to see you.”
“I was so surprised,” you confess, covering your cheeks out of exasperation. Your face heats under his grin.
“You looked kind of silly,” he laughs. Jungwon drops his jaw and widens his eyes cartoonishly, making fun of your reaction.
You shove him over, causing him to fall onto his back and kick his feet up in the air. He narrowly misses you, but you don’t mind. You’re too happy to have him with you.
In the middle of your conversation, Jungwon passes out, sprawled across your couch in a way you’ve never seen a human body positioned before. It’s his first day as a human, so you decide to cut him some slack. Wrapping him in a blanket, as well as leaving an extra—in case he gets cold—you trudge to your bedroom and miss him despite him existing in the next room.
Early the next morning, while Jungwon is still asleep, you rush out to the store to pick up a few things. As handsome as he is, he cannot live in those ratty sweatpants forever. Guessing what his size might be, you pick up a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts that you think he might like. You try to stick to softer material, not wanting to irritate his skin. You’ve also never had to buy underwear for a man before, but hopefully you did a good job. Nobody has ever gone wrong with Calvin Klein. Besides, the idea of seeing the waistband of his underwear poking of the top of his pants kind of makes your nipples—
Jungwon is wide awake when you get home. Hair still mussed from sleep, but he figured out how to get the television working—it’s set to some old movie that you’re not sure you’ve seen. However, he seems transfixed. He rises from his spot, walking much more steadily than yesterday as he greets you with a hug. He smells like the breeze and sleep and something you want to have by your side forever.
He watches you cook breakfast, clinging to your side like he’s afraid you might leave again. It’s cute, despite how warm he is. You two eat breakfast on your porch, discussing your plans for the day and asking if he’d like to join. Of course, Jungwon would be insane to say no.
After breakfast, you show him his clothes and force him to do a fashion show for you. He doesn’t quite understand why you're so excited, but he’d do anything to make you smile.
“Do you like it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your bed as he struts about your room.
He looks down at the shirt and jeans he has on, shrugging absentmindedly. He thinks they’re fine. It’s not like he knows what would look good. He feels like he’s kind of dressed like the guy he saw on your TV not too long ago, and he thought he was cool. But besides that, he doesn’t really know what would look good on him. What he does know is that you look good.
You sit on the edge of your bed, biting down a smile as your eyes rake over his frame three times over. He likes the way you clasp your hands on your lap, doing your best to be polite and patient although he knows you are fighting demons to not shout out your opinion. He also quite likes the crinkle that forms in the corner of your eyes as you try your best not to giggle. He very much likes that he can see the curve of your tits over the hem of your top as you clasp your hands even tighter. He’s not sure if he can tell you that though. He’ll have to watch more television to see if that’s something that is okay to say to a girl.
“It’s nice,” is what Jungwon settles on telling you, and you smile even brighter than he thought possible. He could get used to this.
You decide to take him around town for the day, deciding fresh air and social interaction is just what Jungwon needs in order to understand human behavior. He is more than thrilled to be involved. You can practically hear your father nagging you for housing merfolk, especially after his near death experience. But Jungwon would never do that to you.
He had no idea that there were so many places—stores, you call them—where humans could buy things. He’s entranced by the grocery store, amazed by the selection of gummies that he now has access to. The concept of not touching everything he sees is a bit new to him, and you have to inform him that people tend to find it quite rude if you touch every single fruit in the produce section. However, always the avid listener, he follows your instructions until they become second nature.
Jungwon is shocked by your ability to stay focused in such lively places. There’s so much noise—much different from the quiet roar of the sea. He’s surprised to hear you talk about how quiet your town is, and how there are even busier areas where humans live called the city. He’s not sure if he could survive living in a place like that.
There are also so many formalities. Saying please and thank you and no, you go ahead to every small interaction. He’s fascinated with your ability to memorize all these small things. Maybe, one day, he’ll be a master of them too.
You take him out to eat, just at some small diner not too far from your house. He lets you pick something for him to eat, since he’s still not all that familiar with human food. The waitress is nice, but he thinks you’re nicer—laughing at all his jokes and smiling softly while he rambles about what his favorite part of the day was so far. You hate to say it, but you’re completely enamoured by him.
You enjoy how he purses his lips when he finds something you say amusing, but doesn’t quite want to announce it. He likes how you play with your earlobe when you get shy. Small things. He barely even realizes how hungry he is until the food arrives, he’s too preoccupied with you. But he thinks maybe his second favorite thing—you being first—is human food. The burger you ordered him seems to be quite a hit. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a person eat that fast, not even half of your meal finished before he cleans the entirety of his plate. Jungwon isn’t very picky, it seems.
The days pass by like this, quietly but comfortably. Jungwon slowly learns more and more about what it means to be human, the behaviors and the mentality. You see him grow more comfortable out in the open, no longer adhered to your side, and more willing to try things on his own.
Despite his growing independence, the two of you grow closer than before, if that’s even possible. He helps you cook and clean, entertaining you with silly stories or questions that you can’t help but answer. It’s domestic. You even bring him into work one day, letting him sit in the back with a movie on your laptop while you bore yourself to death. Jungwon never seems to mind. He never complains. If anything, he’s just happy to be with you.
Jungwon only lasts one more night on your couch. By the third night, he comes shuffling into your room, lightly rapping against the door right as you’re about to fall asleep. Flinching awake, you turn on your lamp as you squint at the young man standing in your doorway. He stands there awkwardly, scratching his neck in embarrassment.
“What’s wrong, Jungwon? Are you okay?” you mumble, drowsiness laced in your voice.
He nods quickly, not wanting to worry you. “I”m okay. I’m okay. I just-” he huffs, shifting his weight repeatedly. You can tell he’s searching for the words, whether he has them or not, you’re not sure. Sometimes you wish you could speak his language, maybe it would make it easier for you to understand him. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch.”
This stuns you. This might be the first time you’ve heard him complain.
“Why? Is it uncomfortable?” you ask, sitting up. The neck of your sleep shirt slides down one shoulder and Jungwon’s eyes follow the movement. “I can give you some extra pillows if you want.”
“No, it’s not uncomfortable,” he replies, shaking his head once again. You can see him grow more hesitant by the second, playing with his fingers as he tries to decipher what would be the most appropriate phrasing. He’s not sure how to communicate what he wants from you. None of the movies he’s studied over the past few days have shown him how to do this.
“What’s up, Jungwon?” you ask once again, your eyes softening.
Jungwon grows weak, melting into the warmth of your gaze. He feels a heat stir in his lower stomach that he’s still trying to navigate with his new body. Finally, after rationalizing that you’ve never seriously berated him for any of his thoughts or questions, he decides to bite the bullet. “Can I sleep in your bed?”
“Oh!” you gasp, shocked by his forwardness. “Like… you want to swap?”
He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “No!” he damn near shouts. “I was thinking we could share?”
His suggestion makes your toes curl and a giggle bubbles up from your stomach. Feeling like a school girl again, you nod slowly, lifting the covers for him to join you. He quickly shuffles over, a shy smile spreading across his pink lips like frosting. You wish you could kiss it and have it stain your mouth. He slides under your covers, pulling them right up to his chin. It was hard for him to imagine something as comfortable as this, having only slept on the couch for the last few nights. Now he knows.
“Why’d you want to sleep in here?” you ask, shutting the light off as you lie back down. “You can be honest and tell me that the couch was uncomfortable. I got it second hand.”
You can hear the pillow case rustle underneath his head as he denies your comment. “Just missed you is all,” he admits.
Suddenly, it’s as if all the air is sucked out of the room and you’re left pleading for oxygen. “But I’m only one room away,” you chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you subconsciously—or consciously—have been missing him in your sleep as well.
“I know,” he says, moving closer to you. He can feel your body heat interacting with his, absorbing and morphing into something new entirely. “Still missed you, though.”
Jungwon sleeps with you every night after that. And every night, you rest easier and more deeply than you ever have.
You show him all kinds of things. Your favorite TV shows, the mall, and even the gym. However, you had to leave as soon as some man approached you and asked for your number. Jungwon didn’t seem to take much pleasure in the idea of other men approaching you.
“I was literally right there,” he pouted as he sat in the front seat of your car. “I don’t get why he would even approach you when I was there.”
You smile fondly, reaching over to rub his shoulder. He seems to calm down at your touch. “Maybe he thought you were just a friend.”
Jungwon whips his head to the side. If it were biologically possible, you would believe that his eyes grew ten shades darker. Apparently, you need to make a mental note to never say something so supposedly ludicrous to Jungwon ever again. “I’m yours,” he says.
Whatever that means.
To make up for the fiasco that happened at the gym, you decide to take Jungwon to a place you figured he’d really like: the carnival.
Lara has been bugging you all week, blowing up your phone incessantly and asking if you’d join her and some of your friends at the carnival this weekend. Usually, you’d try to ditch. The carnival has occurred every summer since you were little, and you’re sure it started way before that. With overpriced tickets, overpriced food, and overpriced games, you typically try to avoid the carnival altogether and save your wallet from the damage you will inevitably suffer. However, after seeing Jungwon’s eyes light up at the thought, you decided—after very little contemplation—that attending said overpriced carnival wouldn’t be awful.
Your friends are surprised to see Jungwon, considering they thought he was only supposed to stay with you for a few days, but are happy nonetheless. They drag him every which way, encouraging him to throw darts at balloons and make the tiny tea cup he manages to squeeze into spin as fast as he can. Surprisingly, he does very well with being tossed and spun around—it must do with his exposure to relentless sea currents. However, after experiencing a severe case of vertigo, you manage to convince your friends to take it easy on the rides and sit down for a while.
“Having fun?” you ask Jungwon, sipping on a lemonade. It’s more water than lemon and sugar, but it’s cool and helps bring you back down to earth.
“Mhm,” he hums, nodding around a bite of fried dough. The powdered sugar clings to the side of his lips and you wipe it away with your thumb. Consequently, your friends giggle from their corner of the picnic table. You can’t tell if it’s the vibrant lights of the carnival, but Jungwon’s cheeks grow a soft shade of rose. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” you reply, snagging a piece of his snack. “I don’t usually have fun at these kinds of things, but I’m having fun with you.”
“You don’t like carnival rides?” he asks, stealing a sip of your lemonade. He doesn’t bother to wipe the straw before or after.
You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, I like them. These ones are just kind of lame. There’s much bigger ones at other places.”
“Like in Diary of a Wimpy Kid?”
“Exactly.”
Jungwon nods slowly, flexing his fingers before he clasps his hands in his lap. He looks upward towards the sky, amazed at the fact that he can still see the stars through all this light. Tracing them with his eyes, he finds your silhouette in the stars. Why his family would ever want to keep him from finding and staying with you is beyond his comprehension.
“I’d like to ride one of those rollercoasters someday,” he shares after being quiet for sometime. He’s still gazing upwards, eyes sparkling like fireworks. You stare at the dainty mole on his chin, wishing that you could press a kiss to it. If you could, you would give him the world.
“You will,” you say, reaching for his hands. He looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes never dimming. “We’ll go.”
Yunjin coughs obnoxiously, the rest of your friends snickering evilly. You’re going to kill them. You turn your head ever so slowly, wishing the horrific music that was playing in your head would play aloud for once so it could add to this intimidating vibe you are going for. But alas, it doesn’t, and you have to agree to shoot daggers at them with your eyes instead.
“We’re going to go ride the ferris wheel,” she announces, standing up from the picnic bench. The other girls follow suit. “Do you want to come or are you guys going to keep acting like freaks and hold hands?”
You roll your eyes, but when Jungwon doesn’t make a move to let go of your hand, you don’t either. Besides, your hands were getting quite cold from holding your lemonade, so really he’s just helping you out. Right? Right.
“We’ll go, we’re just gonna clean up first. We’ll meet you there.”
After you and Jungwon clean up the rest of the mess left on the table, you join the girls only to be yelled at by a couple for trying to cut in line. Trying your hardest to show the best side of your humanity, you drag Jungwon to the back of the line. Normally, you would have no problem cussing the girl and her unfortunate looking boyfriend out, but again, you want Jungwon to see your good side. He’s already seen you damn near belligerent and screaming for help, you might as well try to preserve what little remains of your dignity. Besides, you don’t mind being separated from your friends. It just means more one-on-one time with Jungwon. (Not like you haven’t had plenty of that over the last few days.) You’ll meet up with them once the ride is over.
The carnival barker gestures to your car, buckling the two of you in. Jungwon rapidly pounds his feet up and down in excitement, a habit you’re not sure when he developed but you’ve grown to be affectionate towards. Your knees touch, and neither of you pull away, Jungwon enamoured with the idea of riding the ferris wheel, and you, enamoured with him.
The ride jolts with a start, shocking Jungwon. As he flinches, he reaches for your hand, a welcomed surprise.
He babbles mindlessly, about how he’s never imagined being up this high in the air before, and how he hopes the ride doesn’t fail. He tells you how he can’t tell if he’s jittery because of the height or because of all of the sugar he just consumed, and you just laugh, squeezing his hand tighter. When your palms start to grow sweaty, neither of you mind because it’s the two of you and whatever you give, he’ll take.
“I’m so happy right now,” he admits, smiling so wide that his eyes turn into crescent moons. You grin too, flashing him a smile as bright as the moon.
“Me too,” you agree, squeezing his hand tighter.
“This is so cool!” he damn near shrieks, rocking the cart a bit. You reach for the bar instinctively, eyes growing wide in a way that makes him cackle. You whack his leg, and despite the sting in his thigh, he doesn’t move away. “You can see everything up here.”
“You think that’s our jetty?” you ask, pointing to a collection of rocks that are faintly carved out above the sea line.
Jungwon squints, trying his best to follow your line of view. “No,” he shakes his head, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Ours would be farther that way,” he says, gesturing in some direction.
“How do you know?” you question, squinting at the young man.
“Because I know the ocean better than you do,” he mutters, in a voice so matter of fact you’re certain he had to pick it up from someone else because no way in hell you would teach him to speak to you like that. “Besides, I…”
You watch Jungwon, observing how his eyes shift elsewhere, the smile in his face slipping into more of a confused gape. You call his name, wondering what has caught his attention so abruptly. Following his eyeline, you spot a car ahead of you. A couple—perhaps the one from earlier, you’re not sure—are sitting closely together, wrapped in each other's arms. Despite being multiple feet in front of you, it’s clear what they are doing, and it seems like Jungwon has also caught on. They kiss each other slowly, a passion you would hope they’d save for the privacy of their own home rather than the public eye. But as always, there has to be that couple.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, growing confused by his sudden reaction. “Do you not know what kissing is?”
Jungwon tears his gaze from them, looking both scandaled and offended by your comment. “Of course I know what kissing is. I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, that crinkle between his brow appearing.
“Just checking!” you shrug, not sure of what to say. You haven’t seen him this amazed by something since he first turned on the television. “I wasn’t sure if merfolk kissed or not.”
“Of course we fucking kiss!” he yelps, a slight edge to his tone that you find somewhat comical. “I’ve just… I’ve just never seen people kiss like that before,” he confesses, squeezing your palm.
His eyes drift back to the couple, curious and imploring. You never quite thought of how merfolk kiss until now. Is it softer? Harder? Does it mean something else to them, as it means to humans?
“I think I’d like to try though.”
What?
Now, if you aren’t mistaken, you recall having some knowledge of kissing under your belt. And by some, you mean a sufficient amount. You’re not one to dilly dally, and after years of drunk parties and dares, you’ve kissed enough people to probably last a lifetime. To put it plainly, you get around. However, when Jungwon looks at you like that, with his eyes all wide and shiny, you feel like you’re twelve again. You’re not sure of what to do or what to say. He would only say that if he wanted to kiss you, right? No way he meant someone else, he doesn’t even know other girls besides your friends and he only really talks to them when it comes to you. Unless he likes men?
Jungwon calls your name, the warmth of his palm on your thigh is sudden but welcomed. He’s closer than you remember him being, but you can’t find it within yourself to back away. You can see the way his eyes crinkle slightly with a soft smile, and the way his lips curl upwards. The dimple on his cheek calls your name in a tone so sweet you feel light-headed, and you’re certain that the small giggle that slips past his lips—were they always that pretty?—is the most glorious thing you’ve ever heard. You know you’re supposed to hear the ocean if you find a conch shell and press it to your ear, but you wish you could hear his voice.
He calls your name again and you shake your head, clearing the fog that plagues your mind. “What?” you blurt, eyes wide and glossy. Jungwon thinks you’re so pretty.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, slow and steady but the twitch of his fingers reveal his excitement. “Is that okay?”
You want to tell him a hundred things. You want to tell him how lucky you are to have nearly been destroyed by him that night, and if you knew then what you know now, you’re positive that you would’ve let him although you’re certain he would never hurt you. You want to tell him that you think he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen on planet Earth, and that it sucks that he’s not entirely the same species as you, and vice versa. You want to tell him that he’s your best friend, and that you truly, sincerely hope that you’re his. But all you manage to say, with severe effort, is: “Um, sure. Yeah.”
Jungwon has kissed people. This much is true. It’s common amongst merfolk—to kiss—as they are sexual and romantic beings. He’s kissed dozens of beings, human and merfolk. He’s kissed to survive, just as he kisses to kill. However, he never knew that kissing could feel like this.
He leans in slowly, feeling you practically melt against him the second his lips touch yours. The first thing he realizes is how soft you are, and the second is how good you taste. Your palm presses to his chest and his heart instantly warms. The kiss is short and soft, but once he pulls away, he falls right back into it. At this point, he doesn’t even notice if the ferris wheel is moving or if it has stopped, because he feels like he’s floating on top of the world. He can still taste the powdered sugar on your lips, and when he slips his hands around the base of your neck, your mouth opens and he can taste the remnants of lemonade on your tongue.
You hum against his lips, gripping his shirt so fiercely in your trembling fingers you worry for a fraction of a second that you might rip a hole in it. But when Jungwon presses closer, a small sound, light and airy, slips from his mouth as he moves his lips against yours, and all worries you have are left for dead.
One of Jungwon’s hands slips away from your jaw, an action you hardly notice as he nips your bottom lip as a distraction. He scoops your leg onto his lap, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your knee. If it weren’t for being on a damn ferris wheel, you’re certain Jungwon would have you straddling his lap by now. But you are on a ferris wheel, and you are in public. And if the bulge pressing against your leg and the ache between your thighs are to mean anything, they mean that you need to stop or else you might just end up letting him fuck you right here, twenty feet in the air.
“Jungwon,” you murmur breathlessly against his lips. You move to backaway, but he just follows you, eyes closed and a blissful look blanketed across his face. You giggle and he giggles back, squeezing your thigh and sucking on your bottom lip. “Jungwon,” you repeat, a little more firmly this time. He lets you push him away, eyes trained on your lips as he licks his own. It’s official, he’s decided. He’s obsessed with your taste. “We’re in public.”
He begrudgingly tears his eyes from your mouth, kiss-bitten and swollen, to look around. After reminding himself of where you two are, together, he nods slowly. Turning back to you, he moves to fix your hair, and despite it not staying in its respective place, he still looks at you like you hung the moon and stars.
“I forgot,” is all he says, before he leans in one last time to kiss you.
The ride home is filled with gentle touches and even fonder looks. Jungwon follows you into your house, just as he always does. He watches you as you brush your teeth, smiling around his own toothbrush as the foam from the toothpaste forms small bubbles on the corners of his mouth. He observes you as you do your skin care, sitting on the toilet lid as he plays with the hem of your pajama shorts. It doesn’t suggest anything other than him wanting to be close to you, and you’re not sure if you’re frustrated by the lack of underlying meaning or content with his patience.
Jungwon snuggles next to you once you finally go to bed, nose pressed to your neck and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. He kind of makes you hot and bothered when he speaks in a voice so low you’re certain you hear waves crash in his tone.
“Good day?” you ask, still able to see his eyes shine in the light of the growing and glowing moon.
He nods, brushing his lips over yours. “Very good day,” he says, sealing the deal with a kiss that makes your heart swell so large you fear it might break a rib.
He’s warm against your side and real, and the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. You dream of his touch, cradled in his arms, excited for tomorrow.
When you wake the next morning, he’s gone.
—
It’s been a week since you last saw Jungwon.
When you woke up without his warmth, you were almost in denial. But after checking your living room, kitchen, bathrooms, and balcony about three times, you were certain it could be no mistake. He can’t drive, so there’s no way he could’ve gone far. But when you ran around town, checking all of the places he would’ve known and been drawn to, pajama shorts still on and hair half styled, you began to lose hope. He was not at your house, not at any stores, and not at the beach. And once a few hours have passed, you realize he’s gone. Jungwon is not coming back.
You tried to be the slightest bit hopeful. Once the sun had set, you walked along the shoreline, calling his name. You prayed that no one would be around to hear your calls. If someone were to ask who you were looking for, you might think you could lie and say your dog, but Jungwon isn’t a suitable name for a dog. It’s only suitable for him. But after hours of searching, and sitting against the cool rock of your special jetty, do you finally relent to the cold, hard truth.
Your friends chalk up your behavior as you missing your friend. They don’t get much information from you, only a quick comment of how he went home, but they can tell you’re upset. So after your third day of wallowing, they grow desperate to see you smile.
It’s only after a series of shopping trips and movie nights do you start to feel better. When you’re alone, it’s easy to think of Jungwon and wonder why he left; with your friends, your mind stays busy. They make you laugh at stupid jokes and gasp at juicy gossip. Daniela fills you in on this new guy she’s started talking to, and you only have to push down your jealousy slightly before genuine joy for her bubbles over.
By the end of the week, you’re beginning to see a future where you feel normal again. It’s not now, but it will be someday. Eventually, Jungwon will be a memory just like your kindergarten crush, and the thought of him won’t sting as much as it does presently. Besides, when you stop to think about it, it’s probably for the best. He’s literally from the ocean. He’s a completely different species, not entirely human. It’s not like you could’ve dated. Your dad wouldn’t have really liked him anyway.
By the time the weekend rolls around, Lara mentions that there’s been a rumor about another party at the beach floating about. The second you hear about it, you’re in. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten shitfaced with your friends, and without having to worry about waking up at the asscrack of dawn to see Jungwon, you’re more than willing to drink some cheap liquor and face the consequences the next day.
Yunjin brings the alcohol and Lara brings the mixers, and eventually, you’re all pleasantly buzzed. Trodding down to the beach in your cute outfits and bikinis, you feel normal. There was a life before Jungwon, just as there will be a life after him. You will not let the absence of a man be what ruins your good time. Your P.J. (Post-Jungwon) life starts right now!
You mingle and flirt, and even let some random guy feel you up. And although his touch doesn’t feel as good as Jungwon’s, it’s good to know that you still got it. But the more and more that you try to convince yourself that you don’t miss him, you begin to realize that it isn’t true. You do miss him. A lot. It’s borderline humiliating.
Maybe it’s the drinks and a couple of hits from some joint your friends passed around, or maybe it’s because you’re overstimulated from the sand that you can’t seem to brush off your legs, but you’re starting to feel like you’re going to cry.
“I’m gonna go pee,” you slur to Daniela, who just nods before returning to talk to some girl you vaguely remember from high school.
You stumble your way through the crowd, sure that you may have gotten the odd glance here or there but who cares? You’re beginning to feel dizzy, your legs feel heavy and your body feels tingly and suddenly you come to recognize just how drunk you are. Mission accomplished, but at what cost?
“Shit,” you grumble, leaning against a rock for support as you catch your breath. You look up, hoping that focusing on the stars would help you sober up.
Your body keeps drifting away from you, a baby rocked to sleep, but your mind stays still on Jungwon. Why did he leave? Did he get what he wanted? A kiss? That’s a stupid thing to want from someone. If he was going to be that selfish, he might as well have fucked you and then dipped. But a kiss and dip? No one in the history of the world has ever heard of something as lame as that. However, you’re beginning to believe that you’re patient zero.
The stars spin, but once you spot the full moon, your body becomes yours again. It’s brighter than you’ve ever seen it, an iridescent light beaming across the water. The ripples in the waves illuminate your path in hughes of white, blue, and green; a perfect spotlight for your evening walk. You swore it would clear your mind and reestablish your footing, but still, you somehow always end up here: the jetty.
Sitting down at your usual spot, you dip your toes into the water and swirl them around. Your feet drag through the water slowly, your scar catching the light briefly. The moon is pale and bright and big, and you wish Jungwon was here to see it with you. He is, but he’s not worried about the moon.
Despite not being in the right state of mind, the hair on your arms pricks up, a danger sensed before your mind is even aware of it. Your skin tingles as it circles the water, hypnotized by the patterns it creates in the foam. You feel a pair of eyes.
As you look up, you spot only a silhouette, but you know exactly who it belongs to. You always have and you always will. Although you’re certain you hear a song so beautiful that it makes you want to tear your skin off, suddenly your ears fill with wax and your emotions overtake the melody, creating a harsh dissonance.
“You have some fucking nerve,” you spit, pulling your legs out of the water and crouching on your knees. He doesn’t move. “Kissing all up on me, touching me, sleeping in my house!”
You can see him cock his head to the side, but with the way the moon is positioned in the sky, you can’t observe his face. Sincerely, you hope he’s hurt. Maybe not crying—you’re a little afraid you might fold if he is—but hurt.
“I should slap the shit out of you for leaving like that,” you spit, clawing at the rock beneath you like a life line.
Jungwon straightens at that and abruptly sinks under the water. For a second, it startles you. Maybe you scared him off? A part of you wishes that that is the case—that way you have the last laugh. But deep down, you know a slap from you would hurt him more emotionally than physically. He wouldn’t fear your hand. And at this moment, you’re not sure which you prefer. After you begin to doubt that you scared him, and move on to your next theory—shark bite—Jungwon emerges from the pitch black sea.
Sometimes you forget that he’s not entirely human, but in this moment, he makes sure to remind you. Jungwon leaps from the water, propelling all of his body weight onto his arms and hands which suspends his body halfway out of the water and onto the jetty. You shriek, falling flat on your butt as he stares at you, only a few inches from your face.
You take a good look at him, and for a second, you’re not sure you’re talking to Jungwon. His eyes are wild, not the bright-eyed wideness that you know. Instead they’re slender, frantic, and threatening. His mouth hangs open, and you spot the edge of a fang indenting his lower lip, his tongue quickly smoothing over the skin. Despite the water being cool, you feel the fever radiating off of him and his cheeks flush a brilliant shade of pink. You take a deep breath in, studying his face. Before you can begin to check out his body—a habit you’re not all too proud of not being able to shake—he lowers himself back into the water.
He doesn’t submerge, and he doesn’t talk either. His lips stay wired shut, rose-red mouth relaxed but stern. His hands stay on the rock, bracketing your legs that makes you weary of moving too quickly. His fingers look as if they’re straining against something, but you’re not sure what. Do you want to find out?
After more than thirty seconds of just staring at each other, you realize he’s not going to speak.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you wonder, no longer feeling threatened by him. “Why are you getting all up in my face like I was the one who left? You’re the one who kissed and ditched, remember?”
It sounds even more pathetic saying it out loud.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jungwon says, eyes transfixed on your face. For a moment, you see him melt. His eyes become wide again, but still hungry for something. His brow furrows, and he shakes his head, huffing a sigh through his nose like an animal clearing its senses of a particular scent.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Did you not hear what I just said?”
His eyes trail down your body, and you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch. You see his nails dig into the rock desperately, and you’re beginning to grow concerned. A look of discomfort crosses his face, and he shakes his head once more, water spraying against your calves. Sitting up and extending your legs back into the water, you notice how he learns forward subconsciously, seeking your touch. What the fuck is going on?
“Jungwon, are you okay?” you ask, reaching for him. You reach out to touch his hand, and before you can even register the heat of his palm, Jungwon keens forward, an airy sound escaping his mouth unwillingly. His forehead rests against your knees, and his breath is warm against your legs as you begin to second guess everything you thought you knew.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, chest heaving. In a panic, you begin to look for injuries. You can’t begin to fathom what would make him act like this. He’s usually calm, the eye of the storm in any and all cases. He plays with your hair when you’re rambling and rubs your back when you’re upset, and now you're the one doing it all for him.
You’re so confused, and as wracking breaths continue to knock against his ribs, fingers damn near creating claw marks in the rock, you’re desperate for answers. “Why wouldn’t I be here, Jungwon? It’s a beach.”
“The moon,” is all he says as he looks up at you. His eyes are nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s like they melt the second he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed and irises so dark you believe that if you were to sink in them, you’d never find the bottom. You look up to the sky, moon brilliant and bright.
“I don’t get it,” you confess, laying a hand on his cheek. Should you be worried? He’s burning up. Do you offer to get him some medicine? An ambulance? A veterinarian?
Just as you begin to search for your own solutions, Jungwon—without much ability to control himself—proposes his own. With the palm on his cheek being his final straw, he presses his face against your leg once again, harsher than before. You feel his nose indent your thigh, and before you can begin to register the sudden change in proximity, Jungwon licks your leg and moans.
Your body responds before your mind, and if you were standing, you’re certain your knees would buckle. You clench around nothing, a rush of wetness pooling in your bikini bottoms. Without meaning to, you rock your hips gently against the rock. It doesn’t provide any comfort for the sudden ache, but Jungwon has you acting in irrational ways.
And once your mind is able to catch up with your body, the words that fly out of your mouth aren’t much more rational than your bodily response to his tongue. “Yooo, what are you doing?” you hiss, no real threat posed behind your voice.
“You smell so good,” he whines, kissing up your thigh. His arms hook under your thighs, dragging you closer and closer towards the edge. The water is up to your knees now as you cradle Jungwon’s head to your thigh. He nips and licks and kisses, and all you can do is watch. You feel his biceps flex under your legs, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, desperate to keep you attached to his mouth.
You're not entirely sure of what is going on or what’s come over him, but you do know that you’re wetter than you’ve ever been in your whole life. His fangs graze your upper thigh, sharp and menacing. Before you can begin to complain about the sting, and, without a doubt, the blood that bubbles in its wake, Jungwon licks over the wound like his spit is some sort of salve. The sting is immediately gone, and replaced with a tingle that leaves you wanting more. He creeps higher and higher, breathing heavily. Your thighs are slick with spit, bruised by kisses. You tug at Jungwon’s hair, the wet strands wrapping around your fingers to keep you tethered to him. Jungwon moans again, shoving his nose into your crotch and inhaling deeply.
You burn furiously, embarrassed that he’s smelling you but also incredibly turned on by the fact that he seems to like it. A hand leaves your thigh and inches upward, lithe fingers tucking into the waistband as he attempts to yank your shorts down hungrily.
“The button,” you instruct breathlessly, your hands meeting as you both frantically go to undo the button of your shorts. Once you manage to pop it open for him, he rips them down your legs, soaking them with sea water accidentally before throwing them next to you haphazardly. His mouth is back on you instantly, and you urge him towards your core, fingers tracing his jawline. “Jungwon…” you whisper, yearning to kiss him but aching at the thought of his attention being redirected.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs around your skin, sucking another blossom into your thigh. You will be tender to the touch come tomorrow. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” you soothe, and he looks up at you, mouth spit-slicked and raw. “I want you too.”
You don’t have to tell him twice.
Jungwon dives back in, licking the flimsy material of your bikini bottoms. You can feel his tongue press against your clit through the fabric, and both of you moan. He sucks the material into his mouth, searching for your taste before he can indulge in you fully. He knows he should stop, he’s not in the right mind. But with the way he’s aching for you, a desire so fierce he can feel it burn him from the inside out, he’s not sure if he can will himself to stop. When he glances up and sees the look you’re giving him, eyes glowing and jaw dropped in amazed pleasure, he’s certain that he won’t stop.
Snatching the fabric between his teeth, Jungwon pulls your bottoms down your legs, tossing it alongside your shorts. He looks at you briefly, slick and glistening under the pale moonlight. Prior to this moment, Jungwon was certain he'd seen plenty of beautiful things. However, he is now positive that this view is the prettiest of them all.
He leans in voraciously, kissing the skin above your pretty cunt, the short hair tickling his lips and chin. Jungwon isn’t used to it, as you’re his first human girl and—if he has it his way—his last. But he likes it a lot more than he assumes is probably normal. He kisses you there one more time, feeling the muscles of your thighs twitch and tense.
“Please, Jungwon,” you whimper, hips leaning forward in search of his mouth. “I need you.”
Who is he to deny you?
Jungwon licks your folds tentatively, gauging how sensitive you are. A small sigh releases from your chest, a hum so gentle he does his best to replicate it through his tongue. You grow more restless the more he does this, searching for something more. It feels good. Really good. Using his hands to push your thighs further apart, Jungwon's tail thrashes wildly in the water at how pliant you are under his guidance.
“You taste so good,” he says, sucking your clit into his mouth greedily. You moan loudly, leaning backwards as your hips move forward. Jungwon looks up, watching as you prop yourself on one elbow, your other hand still stuck in his hair. You’re breathless, a warm ache slowly building within your core. “You like that?”
You nod fervently, biting your lip. As if it’s a challenge, Jungwon begins to suck and lick more harshly than he did before, pulling more and more sounds out of you. A hand of his creeps upward, shoving its way under the cup of your bikini top. He pinches a nipple, a high pitched whine releasing from your mouth. His tongue travels lower, prodding at your hole curiously. You clench around him and he groans, pressing his tongue into you as far as he can. You grind forward, clit bumping his nose and he inhales deeply. In his professional opinion, you taste better than any candy he’s ever had.
You twitch around his tongue, continuing to grind along his face. He squeezes your tit harshly, earning a gasp from you that makes him chuckle thickly, slick coating his mouth. You giggle too, delirious on the ecstasy Jungwon provides you. But your giggles quickly turn into endless moans as he sucks your clit back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen bud.
Growing dizzier by the second, and this time, you’re certain it’s not because of the alcohol, you become more and more desperate for a release. Jungwon is moaning against you, convinced that your cunt is the best thing to have ever graced this Earth.
“You’re so pretty,” he whines, kitten-licking your clit before sucking it harshly once more. “I want to keep you all to myself.”
“I’m all yours,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You can feel your slick and his spit pooling on the rock beneath you and spreading along your thighs. A heat brighter that the sun builds within you, yearning for more.
He groans deeply, his teeth grazing against your clit in a way that makes you flinch. “Don’t say that,” he pants, dragging his tongue along every inch of you that he can find. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he whimpers.
“Please,” you beg, finding his eyes in the moonlight. His eyes still replicate every bit of the beast that he is, his grip bruising. You clench around his tongue and he laps it up, feeding him in a way that you could never fully understand. The desire he feels is much deeper than what you’re capable of experiencing, and he knows that. But you’d be damned if you weren’t willing to try. “Please make me yours.”
Jungwon releases an inhumane sound, a cross between a purr and a moan, something that vibrates from his chest and releases from his mouth without control. He grips your thigh, eyeing you quickly. It’s faint, but you catch the slight downturn of his lips and the furrow in his brow, as if he’s saying sorry. However, before you can question him, he bares his fangs and bites down on your thigh, piercing the skin.
You yelp in pain, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t budge. He just groans against your skin, the pinch in your leg growing more and more aggressive the deeper his teeth sink into your flesh. But as quickly as the pain comes, a sudden overbearing warmth washes over you. You tilt your head back, grip on his hair weakening. Jungwon grabs your hand and rests it against his face, lapping at the blood that drips from you and sealing the wound. He looks at the new mark he’s created—a mark that confirms and reassures that you are his, and that he is yours.
The ecstasy you’re experiencing from his love bite must be potent, because you’re practically leaking all over yourself. He coos as your cunt clenches around nothing, a new wave of your scent, even more syrupy, fills his nose. He watches you, your body arching into the open air for something, anything that could provide you with relief. Awe is an understatement.
Reminding yourself that he is there, you snap your head up and open your eyes. You rub his cheek, watching him nestle into your palm. Maintaining eye contact, Jungwon lowers near where he expects you to want him, lips grazing your folds without any real pressure. You buck and squirm, but just before you find relief, he pulls away, suddenly every bit the tease and no longer the desperate, lust-crazed creature.
Well, it’s not like you’re above begging. “Fuck me,” you groan, your voice not sounding like your own to your ears. Jungwon melts all the same.
Sticking out his tongue, he licks from your taint to your clit, a relief that has you whining at a pitch you’re sure has never been reached. Practically making out with your cunt, Jungwon sucks your labia into his mouth, his own moans vibrating within you from the inside out. The bridge of his nose glides against your folds once again, rubbing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.You’re growing desperate, your hips unable to stay still as you rock and pull against him like a restless tide.
You’re hot, sweating despite the coolness of the water. Whatever that bite did to you—whether it poisoned or drugged you—you’re not sure. What you do know is that Jungwon is licking your clit just the way you need him to and you don’t think you’ve been so eager to cum in your whole life.
Your cunt pulses feverishly, yearning to suck anything he’ll give you further and further in. You want to watch him, and you try your best to, but when the pressure on your clit is just right, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and your head upright.
He can not only feel you getting closer, but he can taste you getting there as well. Your stomach contracts, the clench around his tongue getting stronger by the second. Your thighs shake, and the heat within you is so intense you feel like you could burst into a supernova. The sounds you are releasing are sounds that a pornstar could only dream of making, and Jungwon doesn’t even have it in him to wonder if this is how all human girls sound because he too enamoured with how his girl sounds. His girl. Shit, he might cum.
“I wanna cum,” you announced, vision blurred with tears.
He moans, loud and clear. “Please,” he begs, watching your back arch in the moonlight. “I want to feel it, pretty. Please.”
He continues to suck and kiss and lick in all the ways you’ve wished a man would without you having to ask. He categorizes every twitch, tunes into every moan, and memorizes every plea. If he’s serious about keeping you, you might have to take him up on his offer.
Once the heat in your body becomes too much, and your back arches against the uncomfortableness against the rock, the band within your lower body snaps. Your orgasm washes over you like the sudden tide, unrelenting and powerful. Jungwon moans with you, licking every surface of you that he can reach as you buck and squirm against his face. Growing sensitive, you lightly pull his head away from your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your release.
He looks at you, his eyes still hungry but in a way that reminds you of your normal Jungwon. Jungwon smiles softly, the soft pearls of his teeth beaming up at you as if he didn’t just give you the orgasm of a lifetime. You climb into the water, Jungwon grabbing your hips and steadying you the second he sees you waver.
He lets you loop your arms around his neck as he continues smiling, completely in awe of all that you are. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, eyes unable to decide if they want to focus on your lips or your eyes. He tucks a hair behind your ear, the one that never stays, and you’re ashamed to admit it really turns you on.
“So you’ve said,” you tease breathlessly, wiping some of your slick off his chin before you lean in to kiss him.
Jungwon grips your hips, one hand wandering downwards to your ass. You reach behind you, encouraging him to squeeze, a pretty little moan slipping past his lips and down your throat once he does. You can still feel the feverish warmth emanating from his body, even in the water. Whatever fog was plaguing him seems to have broken just a bit, his eyes and face resembling the man you know and love. However, you can feel his lust press against your stomach, hard and thick. It’s definitely bigger than anything human, but you’re determined to make it work.
You kiss down his jaw, his sighs and moans filling your ear as he cradles you against him. You grind forward, the head of his cock catching on your clit. You’re still sensitive, but you know it will pass. Jungwon groans loudly, pressing you against the jetty. His arm braces beside your head, bicep deliciously flexed. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you lean towards the muscle and bite it, licking over the indent of your teeth just as he did before. He watches you in awe, bucking against your heat once again.
You moan softly tracing his cupid's bow before you stick a finger in his mouth. You trace his teeth, mesmerized by their subtle sharpness. You would’ve never expected how threatening they truly were until they were pressed against you. He sucks on the pad of your finger, eyes slipping shut briefly as he soaks in the bliss. Jungwon examines your face as he grinds against you again, regretting that he couldn’t see you before as well as he can now. He’ll just have to make you cum again.
He’s endeared by the furrow of your brow, and the twitch of the corner of your lip. He grabs your wrist, pulling your finger from his mouth just so he can kiss you. He licks into your open mouth, doing his best to shield his fangs from your curious tongue. However, when you grind against him a little too hard, he bites down, nicking the side of your tongue.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling away. You pull him right back, not bothered by the sting.
“Just kiss me,” you beg, palms cradling his cheeks. His saliva mixes with yours, thick and warm, and it’s as if he never hurt you. Not that he ever could.
You rock forward once more, the head of his cock slipping lower and pressing against your hole. He can feel you clench slightly, and he’s filled with panic. He’s definitely too big for you, and both of you know it. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind trying but he’s not going to be the reason you get seriously hurt just because he couldn’t control himself.
He pulls away, stilling your hips with a palm pressed against your womb. “We… we shouldn’t. It’ll hurt,” he says, unable to tear his gaze away from your pretty mouth. He’s really going to have to work on controlling himself if he wants to be around you longer.
“It’s okay. I want to try,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his.
He stops you once again, using all of his strength to contain his hunger. “No,” he huffs, eyes dropping to your chest and you can’t help but notice the way he twitches against your clit. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m really fucking turned on right now and I don’t know if I can control myself-”
“Where did you learn that word?” you gasp, an evil grin spreading across your face like butter.
He cocks his head to the side, every bit your sweet Jungwon. “What word?”
“Turned on.”
“I heard it in a movie,” he explains, completely caught off guard while your hand trails down and pinches at his nipple. His hand flies forward, capturing your hand against his chest. You just look at him, eyes sugar sweet and a smile even more sickening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His decision sounds definitive, and as much as you’re willing to try, you won’t push it. He nearly flops forward, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he huffs. Smoothing your hand down and up his back, you can feel his heart rate and temperature drop back down to a normal pace. He’s still rock hard, as he’s certain he will be for the rest of the night.
“We could try other things…?” you suggest, gaze imploring.
A confused look crosses his face, understanding replacing it as he notices your nails trace down his chest, lower and lower. You grab the base of him, thick and heavy in your palm. An airy sigh floats from his mouth, nosing along the column of your throat as if he’s suddenly grown shy.
It’s still too dark to be able to see him in all his glory, but your sense of touch provides you with enough information to know that he’s huge. He’s shaped just like the regular human male, but much larger and heavier. The idea makes you salivate, thirsting for the day he finally lets you indulge in your silly fantasies. A series of ridges line the underside of his cock, and he seems to whimper whenever you add extra pressure to the area.
“Just want you to feel good too,” you say, pumping slowly.
The water ripples above your movement, moonlight bouncing off of every wave and swell. Jungwon kisses along your neck once again, sucking bruises into the skin that you sure will be tender to the touch come tomorrow morning. Though, the funny thing is, you never cared.
“I’m already feeling good,” he moans, bucking into your hand. “You feeling good makes me feel good.”
“Aww,” you coo. “You’re so cute.”
You feel him heat against you, nuzzling closer if even possible. “Shut up,” he whimpers.
You laugh, placing a kiss along his hairline. Your pace increases, groans and whimpers growing in intensity. Teasing his slit, Jungwon grows harder by the second. A series of clicks and whistles, a similar tune and rhythm to the foreign words he spoke to you weeks ago, are spoken into your neck.
“Are you finally gonna tell me what that means?” you whisper, clenching around nothing when he licks the shell of your ear.
“Means you’re mine,” he pants, pulling away from his hiding spot in the crook of your neck. “Forever.”
Oh, you’re sooo going to make him cum harder than he ever has.
Luckily for you, it doesn’t take much effort. With a few more flicks of your wrist, Jungwon twitches and finishes across your stomach, the ocean waves washing it away before you can scoop it into your mouth and show him how disgusting you can truly be.
He kisses you deeply, tongue tasting the bitterness of the alcohol and sweetness of the juice you drank what feels like forever ago. You let him ride out his high, hand coming to a still once you’re certain you’ve milked him of all he has.
Once he’s certain he can look into your eyes without being possessed by some lust-crazed animal for the second time that night, he pulls away from you, mesmerized by the shine of your eyes. Stealing the breath from his lungs, you giggle in such a lovesick way even Cupid would puke. You brush his hair away from his forehead, and he smiles softly.
And under the starlit night, the waves rocking the two of you gently, he kisses you so gently that you hear the moon sing.
—
When you wake up the next morning, you’re not entirely sure you can move. Your thighs are sore, your joints ache, and, worst of all, your heart misses Jungwon. The ceiling keeps you entertained for about twenty minutes, before your need to pee overweighs your desire to stay in bed, rotting. You contemplate crawling around on the floor for the rest of the day, but somehow, the thought of that sounds even worse than walking.
After a scalding hot shower and a thorough examination of the hickeys and bruises left on your body, you feel clean and refreshed, despite still longing for Jungwon. If you could move any faster, you’d be down at the beach right now, looking for him. Hopefully, he misses you just as much too.
However, despite the hours you spent with Jungwon last night, even as he guided you back to shore and kissed you goodbye, he never mentioned why he left. And as you brush your teeth and style your hair, you can’t help but let your mind run wild. Was it because of his attraction to you? You’ve never seen him behave like that, even during the brief moments, before your interaction last night, where you were aware of his arousal. He was always calm, despite proudly displaying his affection towards you. But last night was different.
Lust nearly consumed him, and although you're certain he would never seriously hurt you, the ache in your muscles establishes a firm reminder for just how strong he actually is. You vividly remember how his fangs gleamed under the moonlight, and just how sharp they were to the touch. And although you can practically feel them scraping against you now, no evidence of their touch remains. The only residual mark on your body, besides the numerous hickeys and bruises, is the mark of his bite.
It’s not sore like you’d expect a bite to be, although you do feel tender whenever you trace its pattern. Every time you touch it, or so much as graze it, it’s like the memories of last night resurface ten times more explicitly than before. It sets a fire within you, a furnace that burns to a more subtle degree, but glows nonetheless. The more you ignore it, the brighter it glows.
But before you address it, you need answers. And you need them from him.
Just as you peel yourself off your couch—slowly, of course—to go change and march down to the beach, a soft knock is heard from your front door. It’s still midmorning, and aware that all of your friends are late risers, you’re not expecting any of them to drop by unannounced.
Shuffling to the door, ignoring the ongoing pain in your hips, you pull the door open. And there, bathed in sunlight, stands Jungwon in the same pair of pajamas that you last saw him wear, albeit, much sandier. He’s beaming at you, every bit a ray of light that heals all the aches in your body and replaces it with a different kind of ache. What was it you said about needing answers? Yeah. Those could wait.
“Hi,” he says softly, smiling like he didn’t have you seeing the creation of the universe last night.
“Get in here,” you mutter, yanking him by his shirt. You kick the door shut behind him, pressing him against the wood surface. His eyes widen but his grin stays, hands instinctively falling to your hips.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, eyes melting you into a syrupy mess.
“No.”
Lies.
As you fiddle with the neckline of his shirt, he observes as your gaze slowly glides down to his lips, sighing the minute he sticks his tongue out to wet them. “You sure?” he questions, leaning in closer. You can’t help but mimic his action. “Because I missed you.”
You groan, taking the tiniest step forward. Your nose bumps his, and he nuzzles against it affectionately as if you’re not soaking wet right now. If you weren’t so entranced by his mouth, you would try to take a peak downward at his dick. Is he hard? He better be.
“Fine. I missed you,” you admit.
Jungwon’s lips pucker subconsciously the minute he feels your lower lip graze against his. The grip he has on your waist tightens, his grip still strong but not nearly as demanding as last night. Whatever came over him last night surely isn’t taunting him anymore, but something else certainly is.
The Jungwon standing in front of you now is your Jungwon. Not the Jungwon who belongs to the sea or is controlled by the moon or influenced by the tides. This Jungwon belongs to you and only you.
“Can I show you how much I missed you?” you ask, slipping a hand around his neck and tickling the little strands of hair at the base of his skull.
He inhales shakily, nodding without much of a spoken word despite saying so much through his eyes. He practically falls forward onto your lips, catching you by surprise. You steady him with a hand on his chest, but allow yourself to stumble backward. Afterall, that’s where you were planning on heading anyway.
The kiss is much more gentle than the ones you’ve shared, despite the ferocity in which he initiated it. It’s not like you mind. You’ve never been one to complain about a man who yearns and lets it be known.
You guide him to your couch, the layout of your living room memorized like the back of your hand. Jungwon still manages to bump into your coffee table, hissing in pain against your lips but quickly laughs it off when he sees how flustered you’ve become. Besides, he has much more important things to do than worry about his potentially bruised calf.
With a hand on his chest, Jungwon allows you to push him back onto your sofa, sitting down on the cushions he has spent plenty of time with, especially with you by his side. But this time, instead of watching a movie or talking aimlessly into the night, he has you sprawled across his lap, thighs caging his hips.
He’s amused by your impatience, letting you tug his pajama shirt over his head, indifferent to the sand that might have been dusted off of it. Slack jawed, you trace his pecks, fingers tracing along his nipples. It’s amazing being able to see him like this in the early morning light, his body not shielded from your view by water or your own shyness. No, now you’re eager.
Jungwon arches into your hand when you pinch his nipple, a soft whine slipping from his pink lips. Grabbing the back of his neck, you guide him towards you, licking into his mouth. Your tongues tangle together, sucking and kissing any inch of flesh you both can find. He massages your ass, much gentler and more timid than he was last night. A little nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you to take things slow, but between last night and the questions you still have left unanswered, any caution about tempo is thrown out the window.
“I want to touch you,” you state, pushing away from him abruptly. Jungwon shakes his head, trying his best to clear the fog clouding his brain. You said it so matter of factly, like you were reporting the weather, that he’s unsure if he heard you correctly the first time. It isn’t until you start tugging his pajama pants down his thighs, the weight of his hips preventing you from tugging them very far, that he realizes there is no problem with his comprehension of the human language. “I want to touch you,” you repeat, pressing quick kisses to his jaw to bring his attention back to you.
Jungwon nods eagerly, lifting his hips and covering your hands with his own as he helps you pull his pants down his defined thighs. Typically, you’re not one to send heart eyes to someone’s dick, but you nearly swoon at the sight.
His tip is flushed red, hard and heavy from only a little kissing and shoving each other around. Jungwon breathes heavily, eyes darting between you and his cock in anticipation. He’s never used it before—the human form, that is—not unless you would count when he got curious one night after waking up to an uncomfortable tightness and experimenting in the bathroom. Other than that brief moment, he doesn’t quite know what to expect. He knows his human form is more sensitive, more receptive to your touch and not as durable as his true form. Just from you looking at him, gaze hungry, has him twitching and leaking against his stomach.
Finally gaining control of yourself, licking over your lips, you look at Jungwon. His chest rises and falls, small puffs of air drifting from his lips. The swell of his cheeks heat pink under your scrutiny, eyes unwavering when usually you like to play coy. But now you just look at him, eyes dripping honey and pulling him in so deep he thinks he might drown, of all people.
You lean forward and kiss him, simple and sweet, but as he chases after you, you wrap your hand around his cock, sliding upward and squeezing around the head. His mouth falls slack against your own, his breath hitting your lips as he struggles to regain his composure. He’s not too sure he wants to find it anyways.
You tug his length, fascinated by the extra inch he grows despite thinking he was already at full capacity. He’s heavy in your hand, spitting into your palm to aid the glide of his cock. Tossing his head back and closing his eyes, Jungwon nearly sinks into your couch, jaw still slack and hands now laying limp around your waist. It must feel good, because the way his hips twitch, trying their best to stay patient and exhibit some restraint, has you clenching around nothing.
“Feel good?” you ask, kissing his relaxed lips.
“Uh huh,” he moans, nodding slightly as he tries to kiss you back belatedly. He does better the second time around, hands now gripping your shirt with a fervor that has memories of last night surging to the forefront of your mind yet again.
Thank god for having sex with Jungwon again—hopefully the sexual flashbacks will be less intense, although you doubt it.
Tracing his slit, a breathy whine escapes his mouth only to be swallowed up by your tongue. He’s leaking all over your fingers, the pearlescent substance coating you in a sticky sheen. Finally able to crack his eyes open, Jungwon quickly falls in love with how concerned with his pleasure you’ve become, focus bouncing between his dick and his face.
His breath hitches as he catches sight of your fingers covered in his precum, and you don’t miss the way his abs clench underneath the palm you splay across his stomach. Bucking upwards, less restrained than the past few times, you indulge him by matching his pace.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whimpers, licking your neck and feeling your pulse jump under his tongue. You rake your fingers through his hair, tugging him back to where you can see him. He relents, brow pinching slightly at the pain but melting the minute you begin to scratch lightly at his scalp. If your hand wasn’t working him to completion, he thinks he could fall asleep with your hand in his hair. However, a particularly harsh tug of his cock has him seeing stars, lids growing heavy once more.
You release him for a second, watching his manhood slap against his stomach with a satisfied hum. The slight wince from him doesn’t deter you, fascinated by his sensitivity and lack of filter as you bring your slick-covered hand up to your mouth, licking his pre off your fingers before grabbing him once more.
Jungwon groans, suddenly consumed by his own attraction towards you. What the hell has he been doing this whole time? Letting you touch all up on him, not bothering to do the same to you?! Ashamed doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Off,” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for your cooperation as he yanks your top over your head. The newly disheveled state of your hair would typically make Jungwon chuckle, but his preoccupied state only has him carelessly tossing your shirt aside and pulling you closer. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your nipples as he plants soft kisses along your breasts.
Sucking a nipple into his mouth, your pace on his cock slows as he rolls the nub between his teeth. Although you’re certain he doesn’t mean to distract you, the tingly sensation that the suction around your tit provides has you nearly forgetting about his length all together.
“Mmph- Wonie,” you moan quietly, nails scraping along his scalp. He hums around your breast, using his other hand to fondle and pinch at your previously unstimulated nipple. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” he huffs, a soft pop sounding from his lips. “Love seeing you like this. My pretty, pretty girl.”
Diving back into your tits, where he feels safe and sound—as well as incredibly aroused—you resume your mission of pleasing him by your hand. Jungwon’s jaw drops slowly, recognizing the warmth and pressure that begins to build in him once more. His teeth graze the underside of your boob, creating small indents as he loses sense of control and begins to suck your skin into his mouth, bruises and hickeys left in their wake.
He redirects his hand away from your tit, trailing it down over the plane of your stomach, pinching the skin in fascination. However, that only makes you squeeze his dick tighter, a shocked moan spilling from his lips as he attempts to regain his composure.
Jungwon has learned a lot of things about himself because of you. For example, he’s learned that he enjoys sweets more than savory foods, he enjoys busy days just as much as he likes lazy ones, and that he doesn’t like to be pleased if you are not also experiencing some sort of pleasure. And when his fingers trail just low enough to graze your pussy over your panties, dripping with your own arousal, he can acknowledge that his touch on your skin is plenty to satisfy you in some ways.
But he remembers how wet you got for him last night. He’s certain he can do better than he’s doing now.
He traces your hole over the fabric of your panties, the tip of his middle finger just about nearly breaching the tight ring of muscle before he pulls back, only to do it again. And again. And again.
You whine, tugging him by his dark locks so you can kiss him. In a clash of teeth and tongues, he decides to provide you some relief as he slips his fingers underneath the soaked fabric and sinks into your aching hole, the squelch of your slick damn near pornographic. You moan as he licks hungrily into your mouth, desperate to be as close to you as possible.
The heel of his palm presses deliciously against your clit, causing your hips to squirm. The grip you have on him makes Jungwon see stars, a sheet of white flashing beneath his eye lids every time he closes his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groans lowly after a particularly harsh tug of your hand. He feels you clench around him at the sound, adding another finger. “You make me feel so good.”
“God, Jungwon,” you whine, unsure if you want to focus all of your attention on his cock or his fingers inside of you.
You’re not certain if you’re so worked up because of the sounds he’s making or the memory of last night taunting you before he arrived at your front door or just because he’s that damn good at pleasing you. Either way, you can feel the thread within you growing thinner, the band tighter and you can tell he feels it too.
“So wet,” he whispers in awe, pulling away from your lips to glance down at your eager pussy. You’re practically sucking him in.
“Yeah? You like that?” a newfound confidence washing over you. You swivel your palm across the head of his cock, teasing his frenulum with your thumb. “Seems like you like this too,” you tease, observing the way he bucks up into your hand.
“Yeah. Oh- fuuuuck,” he moans, a groan of your name following soon after. He tries his best to curl his fingers inwards, searching for that spot that makes you see supernovas. Just as you clench tightly around his fingers, that furrow between your brows forming, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
You grow more frantic in your movements, rapidly pumping your hand against his spit and pre-covered length. Jungwon twitches against your palm, his vision growing blurry as he continues to assault that sensitive spot in you. He can feel you getting there much quicker than last night, but it’s not like he minds. He’s not going to be able to hold off much longer.
“Want you to cum,” you whimper, eyes tearing with desperation. “Wonie, please cum for me. I want it so bad.”
He groans, scissoring his fingers open inside of you that has your vision blurring both from tears and with pleasure. You can feel yourself teetering over that edge, the deepest part of you burning for release. With a roll of your hips and the friction of his palm against your clit, your walls spasm around his fingers, the clench providing much for Jungwon’s imagination. He ruts upwards, your hand still held tight around the head of his cock as he twitches against your fingers, cum leaking down his shaft and across your stomach.
As he opens eyes, mesmerized by the sudden relief that washes over your features, he pulls you into him, flopping sideways so the two of you can rest and catch your breath.
As the rise and fall of his chest slows, and your walls stop pulsing intermittently, you are able to remember what you wanted to discuss with Jungwon in the first place. Although you’re not necessarily upset by his ability to redirect your focus, you are always a woman with a goal that will get accomplished, distractions or not.
Sitting up slightly, you brace a hand on his chest, the faint beat of his heart knocking against your palm. He watches you, eyes warm and sleepy. A contented grin spreads across his face, warm as melting butter, but it quickly drops when he sees the frown deepening at the corner of your mouth.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I’m still new to this. I’ve never been with-”
“No, no. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine,” you reassure, placating the crease between his brow.
He follows your guidance, refocusing his concern on the problem that seems to be occupying your brain. “What’s wrong then?”
“Why’d you leave?” you ask, not bothering to beat around the bush. “I thought you liked what we had going on. Why did you leave?”
Now it’s his turn to frown, a small pout confirming his confusion. “I didn’t leave. I was going to come back.”
Bro. Looks like men are stupid no matter the species.
“I woke up and you were gone, Jungwon. You didn’t tell me where you were going, you didn’t leave anything for me to assume that you would return,” you list, cheeks burning hot under his gaze. “I didn’t take you for that kind of guy, but it’s hard to not assume the worst when you literally dipped with no explanation. I was worried.”
He sits up fully, slipping a hand around your waist as you follow suit. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, eyes sincere. “I didn’t know it would scare you, it’s sort of hard to explain.”
“I don’t care, explain it.” you urge patience wearing thin although you don’t mean for it to. “And you were weird as fuck last night too.”
“You thought I was weird?” he asks, growing defensive. “You were literally wet.”
“Two things can be true at once,” you say, growing shy. Usually you’re the one who can stump him with your words, but the better he gets at your tongue, the better he gets at leaving you rendered speechless. “I did think you were hot, but it wasn’t… I don’t know… you’ve never been that way before. I was a little surprised.”
You both stare each other down, fairly aware of your back pedaling but willing to accept it for the sake of having this conversation. He adjusts your legs, throwing one over his lap, partially because he wants you closer and also because seeing your pussy still shiny from your release is making it hard for him to pay attention to the subject at hand. It only helps slightly, a full view of your cunt now hindered by your thigh.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he explains, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “I missed the water so I went for a swim. I was going to just be gone for a few minutes, maybe find some shells for you ‘cause I know you like them. But then I realized the state of the moon, and what it does… I just thought it would be safer if I stayed away.”
You shake your head, not quite following. “I don’t get it,” you announce, a petulant lilt in your voice that makes him laugh.
“The moon sometimes messes with my head and makes me… you know…” he trails off, avoiding eye contact. The blush that blooms on the tip of his ears is cute. “But I’m okay now. Sometimes it has no effect, sometimes it does. I could feel it coming on though, and it can be difficult to control so I decided to stay away until it passed.”
You nod, digesting all this new information. You faintly recall a story you heard ages ago of how merfolk are closely guided by the moon, and although they may not be as influenced as Jungwon suggests, part of it still rings true. He’s avoiding your eyes, fascinated by the small red light on your cable box. It’s hard to believe that there will be a day where he’s not amazed by your television.
Desperate to regain his attention, you pinch his sides. When that fails, his blush glowing a deeper shade of crimson, you decide on something that will certainly get him worked up.
“Is that the only reason you wanted to touch me like that? Because of the moon?”
He whips his head around so fast you’re scared he broke his neck. Jungwon almost looks mad, scandaled that you would even dare to ask such a question.
“No!” he nearly shouts, grip tightening around your waist. You watch the way your flesh pillows under his fingers, a vein running down the front of his hand and down to his slender fingers. “I-I’ve always wanted to do that with you. The second I met you I wanted to, but-”
“The second you met me? Really?” you smile, drawing a faint pattern on his pec that has goosebumps raising along his skin.
“Yeah,” he nods, voice weakened by your touch. “I’ve always wanted you.”
“Hmm,” you hum, tossing your leg across his hip to straddle him once more. “How did you want me?”
“I-”
“Did you want to taste me the way you did last night? Or just stick your fingers in me?”
Jungwon’s blush creeps from his ears, across his face, and down his neck, a bright shade of rose painting his tanned skin. You giggle sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek that he accepts gratefully. You grind down on his hardening length, still sticky from his release.
A moan floats from Jungwon’s mouth, a welcomed sound. “I wanted to do all those things,” he agrees, rutting up against the warmth of your pretty pussy. “‘Want to do more, too.”
“More? You want more?”
“Mhm,” he whines, his bangs drooping into his eyes. You brush them back, eager to see his lids grow heavy with lust. “I really want to fuck you.”
Alright.
“Bedroom.”
He follows closely behind you, sloppily kissing your shoulder as you tug him towards your room. You’re royally fucked, your legs already shaking the minute you lay down on your bed, Jungwon climbing over you the second your back hits the mattress.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, kissing up your neck and jaw.
You giggle, tangling your fingers in his hair, softer than a morning breeze. You could hear him say that same compliment a hundred times more, and it would still leave you warm and fuzzy.
“You’re pretty, too,” you comment, kissing his nose.
He giggles against your lips, chaste kisses scattered across your mouth and face. The warm feeling of your words spreads in his chest and throughout his whole body, heating him from the inside out. Lazily dragging a finger down to your willing cunt, he gently circles your clit to prep you.
You’re aware that he’s smaller than what he presented you with last evening, but he’s still plenty big. His length rests in the crux of your thigh, long and thick. Your mouth falls open, soft moans slipping from your lips as he wastes no time licking into your mouth. Jungwon subtly begins to grind against your leg, intoxicated by your touch, no matter the medium.
You, however, are growing desperate.
“I need you to fuck me, Jungwon,” you plead, digging your nails into his shoulders. His eyes grow heavy, tracing every line and edge of your face. “Please, baby. Fuck me.”
He would give you the world if you asked.
Ever the most efficient, Jungwon leans back slightly, placing his cock between your folds and watching as your hole clenches at the proximity. He thrusts against you a few times, coating himself with your slick and savoring the moan you release when he nudges your clit. The mark of his teeth on your thigh stares back at him, still tender and fresh. He traces the crescents, heart thundering against his ribcage so loudly he’s almost positive you can hear it.
“Wait, fuck,” you gasp, stopping him with a hand on his hip. “We need a condom.”
“W-What? What’s that?”
You lean towards the small table next to your bed, pulling the drawer open before you reveal a small foil square. Tearing it open with your teeth—a sight that Jungwon could’ve never predicted would make his dick twitch—you reveal a delicate latex circle. He sits back on his haunches when you guide him away from the inside of your thighs, upset by the distance, but pleased when you wrap your hand around the base of him. You slip the latex over his head and down his shaft, quick and effortless like you’ve done this before. He doesn’t want to think about it.
“It’s so I don’t get pregnant,” you inform, laying back down against your no-longer pristine sheets.
Jungwon thinks he just came a little bit at the thought.
“Right,” he coughs, looming over you once again. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Are you blushing?” you tease, pinching his ruby-red cheek between your thumb and forefinger.
He swats you away, tucking his head against the curve of your neck in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he mumbles.
Jungwon sighs the second he ruts against you, soft and breathy. You indulge him for a moment, whining with every glide against your clit. However, after a couple minutes of humping against each other like animals, the heat boiling within you grows too unbearable to ignore.
“Alright,” you huff, reaching between you two to line him up against your hole. “‘Need to feel you inside me now.”
He nods, lifting his head from your neck so he can watch himself slowly sink into you. You’re tighter than he could’ve imagined, a loud moan escaping him without his control. You lift your hips, chasing the feeling of him filling you up. Maybe you’ve always been able to get this wet—you’re not sure—but you know you’ve never been this wet for anyone other than Jungwon.
“Fuck, Wonie,” you whine, clawing at his back. Once he reaches the hilt, he collapses forward, nosing along your jaw as he whimpers with every adjusting clench around his cock.
Thrusting forward, neither of you know what to focus on. Hands groping and fondling everything they can reach, you’re certain red lines litter Jungwon’s back and he’s sure finger-print shaped bruises will be printed across your thigh, accompanying his bite mark.
“You feel so good, pretty,” he moans, grinding against your clit before pulling out half-way and thrusting forward.
Jungwon prides himself in his strength, he’s always been quick and able to fight back without worry. But at this moment, you’ve rendered him weak. All of his energy is directed to pleasing you, resting between your folds, hot and heavy. The head of his cock grazes against the spongy spot inside you, and it has you pressing your tits against his chest and moaning into his ear. He thinks that might be his new favorite feeling, but then you have him experiencing a feeling so new and unique that he realizes that having a favorite is impossible when it comes to you.
You have to damn near yank Jungwon away from you, neck damp and warm from his panting against your skin. Jungwon moans against your tongue the second you kiss him, lips bit-ridden and plush.
“Mmph, baby,” you moan, unable to kiss back after a particularly harsh thrust against your walls. Stars decorate your vision, hyperfixating on the mole on his jaw before becoming enamored by the small smirk on his lips. “You’re so good to me.”
Completely blissed out, Jungwon isn’t even aware of his smile, but you love it all the same. “Yeah? Makin’ you feel good, pretty?” he groans, speeding up his pace just a fraction. “Need more? Want to feel you come again, is that okay?”
You nod frantically, unable to control yourself as your hips don’t know whether to run away or lean into the pleasure he’s providing you. “Need it,” you whine, overwhelmed by the pressure building within you.
“Mmph- anything you want, beautiful,” he whimpers, pressing a kiss to your lips before pushing your knee closer to chest and resting it along the curve of his waist.
He sets a brutal pace, sounds of your pussy squelching around him and your moans filling the room. You can feel yourself dripping down his shaft and onto your sheets, a mess you’ll most definitely need to clean up later but can’t be bothered to worry about at this moment. Not while he’s fucking you so well.
Your tits jump with every harsh thrust, his hips smacking against your own. He’s entranced by how mindless you’ve become, growing needier with every sigh and whine that escapes you. There has never been a prettier sight than you.
“Ohh,” you gasp, hips jolting when you feel his fingers begin to rub your clit. “Fuck, keep doing that, baby. I’m so close,” you urge, vision colored with lust.
“I got you,” he whispers against your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Just let go, pretty.”
He rubs your clit one more time, your eyes slipping shut before you cum for the second time in the past hour. Your head presses into the pillow beneath you, back arching as your hips rut against him as you chase the remainder of your release.
You grow impossibly tighter around him, the slick that spills from you aiding the glide of his cock inside you. Rendered breathless, all words leave your mind. You can only moan to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Jungwon continues to buck wildly against you, eager to taste his own pleasure.
“Never gonna leave you again,” he groans, kissing and sucking your lips into his mouth. “Never wanna be without you.”
Boneless and weak, you use the last of your strength to card your fingers through his hair one last time, meeting his eyes with a fond look. His dick throbs, aching and heavy, and your gaze is not helping stave off his impending release. He curses his gods and yours for trying to separate the two of you, eternally grateful that you defied the odds by coming together as his stomach and balls tighten.
Jungwon doesn’t want it to end. It all feels too fast. But the look you give him reassures that you will have many more opportunities to come. Opportunities for him to lazily rock against you in the mornings, moments to fuck you into oblivion, and moments to make proper love. He can't wait to hear more sounds from you and to whisper filthier words into your ear, and to feel you melt around him time and time again.
The syrupy sounds you release fill him up, and as his voice jumps the octave in a breathy moan, he releases into the condom. His dick twitches relentlessly against your walls, overstimulating you beyond the point where you could care. He rocks against you unceremoniously, jerky and without rhythm before slowing to a gentle end.
Jungwon presses his forehead to yours, allowing you to cradle his face in your palms as you press sweet kisses into his skin. As the two of you slow, stilling into a quiet calm, your breaths sync and your hands continue to explore in a hushed wonder.
For the first time in your life, you don’t mind basking in the silence of the morning, consenting to his gaze under the broad daylight, despite being certain you look like a sweaty, fucked-out mess. But Jungwon doesn’t care, you’re his girl all the same.
The two of you finally come to, giggly kisses keeping you occupied until you grow hungry, stumbling out of bed to clean yourselves. And as you sit on the floor of your living room, beside Jungwon, handing him a grilled cheese—too tired to fix anything else—you realize that your father has been right about many things, but he could not possibly be more wrong than he was about your boyfriend and his character. He is the sea and the sky and the Earth, all wrapped into one.
When Jungwon knocks his knee against your bare thigh, dressed only in his underwear with buttered crumbs stuck to his lips as he sends you a love-sick smile, you feel certain that you did the right thing by returning to the beach that day. With the moon etched into his eyes and the sun kissing your skin, your infatuation has transcended worlds.
you have a boyfriend gifted with a pornstar cock, but he refuses to use it on you, too scared he'll end up hurting you. so your best shot is to devise a plan to get him to crumble, and even if things don't unfold quite as expected, what matters is the result anyway... right?
starring ⋆ f!reader x park sunghoon, besties!jaykewon
this work contains ⋆ smut ⋆ minors do not interact ⋆ barely any plot, way too much smut, sunghoon being diabolically hung, my extremely poor attempts at humor, established relationship, nasty nasty shit... brat tamer sunghoon, alcohol consumption, implied driving under the influence, jealousy, slut shaming (not from hoon), a tiny bit of violence, blood, size & bulge kink, fingering, dry humping, slight degradation, partially clothed sex, a freaky voice message, edging & overstim, oral (f!rec), mutual masturbation, lube, squirting, unprotected sex ⸻ rules m.list
length ⋆ one shot ⸻ 23.6k words
⭑ NIA ⸻ i'm in pain and my period is abt to start ANDD antibiotics fucked my stomach up so if you see typos no you don't. anyways. big fat cock. who agrees!! shoutout to my homies vivi and stella for putting up with my ass and deactivation threats anytime i write anything ever!!! and for having read this before anyone else
Having a dick so big multiple people suggest you make a career out of it isn't half as nice as it sounds, Sunghoon would know that better than anyone.
Even before getting any experience, he'd been aware of just how comically large his dick was. He'd known ever since he had to go out of his way to search for porn with ‘massive cock!’ in the title for it to look anything like his, and even then he often found himself thinking they had to be exaggerating a bit for the sake of clicks.
Turns out, the comparison with real life average sizes is even more ridiculous.
He knows it sounds silly, there are hordes of men out there that would pay good money to swap places with him—his dear friend Jake being the first in line.
Sunghoon still cringes when he remembers the first time he'd oh so innocently asked Jake for his opinion on the matter. Truthfully, all he wanted to hear from his bleached blonde friend was some reassurance, maybe how it was all in his head, or how at the end of the day the right person would love and appreciate every part of him no matter what, or whatever you tell people in situations like these. His first mistake was believing Jake out of all his friends would do the most tactful thing.
“That thing’s like—fucking huge!” Jake shrieked, grabbing Sunghoon’s phone out of his hands, every protest falling on deaf ears. “There’s no fucking way, man.”
“It’s not that b—” Sunghoon tries to speak, but Jake stops him before he even gets a sentence in, calling Jay’s name at the top of his lungs.
“What are you—”
“WHAT,” Jay yells back from the kitchen, over the deafening sound of the food processor in use, annoyed by Jake’s continuous interruptions that day. Of which at least four were to show him some nasty looking recipe he found on tiktok.
“You gotta come take a look at this!”
At the time, Sunghoon was still vaguely uncomfortable around Jay. He was nice enough, and he was a great roommate, so there was that at least. It was a good trade off because the other option was staying at the way too crowded shitty dorms, and he liked the privacy that this deal got him. He wasn't always on board with it, Jake had to talk him into it when high school ended, but he swore him and Jay would be the bestest of friends if only he could let his reservations behind for a little, at least give him a chance.
Sunghoon moved away halfway through the second year of high school, and for a while it felt like Jay had swapped places with him and taken the life he was supposed to live for himself. First his best friend, Jake. Then the girl of his dreams, the one he never found the courage to confess to, you.
Thing is, while Sunghoon could recognize Jay had done absolutely nothing wrong to him per se, he still felt betrayed by him in a way. Truly it was just envy.
The food processor comes to an abrupt halt, and all that can be heard from the other room is a deep sigh, followed by the sound of dragged footsteps as their tall friend walks into the messy—in the way only college boys living spaces can be—living room with resignation. “Fine. But this better have nothing to do with Cheetos or tacos.”
“Much better.” Jake winks at him, nudging Sunghoon’s hands away with his elbow, the younger hissing in pain. “Behold,” he turns the phone towards an unassuming Jay, aware of the fact he's about to change the older's view of Sunghoon forever.“Sunghoon’s monster of a cock.”
Jay’s hands stop on his apron, (the ridiculous one with a bodybuilder torso and cheetah boxers Jungwon got him for a secret Santa) and his mouth hangs open for a second too long, before he comes back to his senses and notices how Sunghoon slumps back on the couch, cheeks burning red. Jay swats the phone out of Jake’s hand. “What the fuck is your problem, dude.”
“What? I’m just saying it’s way larger than average!”
“He’s uncomfortable.” Jay says, going back to drying his hands on the apron. “Leave him be.”
This only makes Sunghoon’s cheeks redder, his ears a bright pink too. Jake scoffs, eyeing him suspiciously. “Sure. I’m sure having a porn star cock must be so mortifying. Who even complains about stuff like this?” he snickers before making his voice a pitch higher. “‘Poor me! My dick’s too heavy! What will I do!”
“Oh my god,” Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, pulling the ends a bit. “It is not that big.” He looks at Jay for support, expecting him to disagree with Jake.
Jay’s gaze falters to his pants for a split second. His mouth twists but he remains silent.
“Not you too.” Sunghoon's hands now hold his face as he sinks into the cushions further, legs spreading. “Just say what you wanna say.”
“I mean…” Jay gestures towards Sunghoon's crotch. “I suspected you were big but… that’s crazy, man.”
“It’s not that cra—”
“Yes it is! You’ve got a fucking gas storage tank in your pants and you wanna sit here and tell us it’s not crazy?” Jake says, exasperated by that point. “And stop playing dumb. It’s big. That’s good. I’m sure the ladies go crazy over it. Or the gentlemen. Or whoever it is you fuck.” He kisses his teeth, muttering under his breath. “Lucky bastard.”
“Jake’s right, Hoon. I don’t know why you're so… negative about it. It's a good thing."
“I wouldn’t know,” Sunghoon mutters under breath, more to himself than to the guys, but it’s still loud enough for them to catch it.
“Oh? Then whenever the time comes, you’ll see how much they’ll love it,” Jay says.
"I'm just worried." Sunghoon tries his best to avoid both sets of eyes staring intently at him. "What… what if I end up hurting someone?"
Jake coos, then moves closer to Sunghoon on the couch, his breath fanning over his ear as he whispers, “Always so concerned about other people. Aren't you such a cutie pie?”
The boys weren't exactly wrong, but with big dick come great responsibilities—as Jake said. Yup, roll your eyes at him, not Sunghoon. He's innocent—like having to finger and eat out your partners for what feels like an eternity before even trying to push the tip in, which is not exactly the best situation to be in as a virgin. Current Sunghoon thinks that's the best part, but it took a while to get here.
Sunghoon has always been a very patient man though, a gentle giant in every sense of the phrase. The last thing he would ever want to do is inflict pain accidentally on another human being.
When he got his first actual girlfriend, he'd been so nervous and honestly quite scared to have sex with her. So he got on Google whenever he had free time to study ways to make it as comfortable as possible, watching all kinds of video explanations or reading through feminine pleasure blogs written by women for women specifically, because that's where Jay told him the good stuff was at.
By the time he got to actually have sex with her, his mind was so overwhelmed by all this information that he essentially forgot how to even think. It was anything but romantic, so deeply embarrassing Sunghoon still cringes even after all this time when his mind betrays him and reminds him of it while trying to fall asleep at night.
And then, to add insult to injury, his girlfriend cheated on him and left him for this guy she'd only just met, because 'it might not be as big, but at least he knows how to use it'.
Heartbroken and with an hurt ego, Sunghoon did that thing all boys do when their first relationship doesn't work out: hit the gym and promise themselves they're never gonna fall in love ever again.
That second part ended up failing, because from the moment you showed up at his doorstep to visit (your now ex boyfriend, but a beloved friend nonetheless) Jay and Jake, five different bags around you, with eyes as big as saucers and staring at him like he had invaded his own apartment, all the feelings younger Sunghoon had for you hit him like a brick to his nape all over again.
You two dating came as a shock to everyone around you, mostly because while you were aware of Park Sunghoon's existence and vice versa, you'd never given it too much thought. You remembered him as the scrawny kid with the cute moles from math that you used to always catch staring. He was often around Jungwon because they were neighbors, but was way too shy to even say hi to you. That, and he was also always around Jake—who you were not exactly fond of, given his reputation—so you steered clear of him when you could manage to.
Then, when the third year of high school started, you stopped seeing him around, and Jungwon told you he had moved away to follow his dad's business. You wouldn't admit it at the time but the hallways seemed duller than usual for a few days, but that probably was also due to Jake not being as loud and energetic with his best friend gone.
Last year of high school, you went on a few dates with Jay from history class, and while he was the closest you have ever thought a man to be perfect, you both agreed you worked better as friends than anything more. Usually that means 'you're cool but I'm gonna try my best to not have to say hi to you if I see you around', but Jay is so wonderful, you actually kept in touch and became quite close, even if platonically.
By the time the year ended, you had a very tight group of friends consisting of yourself, Jungwon, Jay, and even Jake—who, for the record, isn't nearly as bad as all the crazy rumors make him out to be. It saddened you that it took so long to find your group, but you were grateful you had one nonetheless, a lot of people never get that luxury, so you weren't about to let a little graduation get in between you all. You spent a good five days consoling Jake that no, no one was going anywhere and yes, you will all be best friends for life.
But then college started, and it became difficult to stay in touch because Jay and Jake had to move. Jake reassured you that you and Jungwon would be more than welcome to visit and stay over at their apartment—which you found funny because that is technically not Jake's apartment at all, at least not until Hoon moved in too and the three of them started sharing the costs, but he has a way of making every place he steps foot in his, like he's meant to be there, so Jay let it slide.
So the first thing you did when you finally had some free time was getting on the cheapest flight available to go visit your friends. Heavy luggage in hand and stained sweatpants on, you were dumbfounded when the one who opened the door for you was none other than Park Sunghoon, and not Jay like you expected.
He was no longer the shy kid you remembered him to be, and he had grown nicely into his features, his hair now a jet back instead of the brown you were accustomed to see. Over those two weeks you realized that while you have know Sunghoon all your life, you had never really seen him, and it made you want to go back in time and hand a little paper note to the shy boy always staring at you during class.
Your head sinks further into your pillow with a whine, the case enveloping it sporting gray spots of wetness, where your tears and drool had accumulated over the last torturous half an hour Sunghoon spent fucking you open with his fingers. You don't know what he means, because you feel like you could take his entire fist by now, that's how wet you are. If your pillowcase is such a mess, you don't even wanna think about what your bed sheets look like.
"I can– take you," you protest, breath hitching mid sentence at a particularly deep curl of his fingers inside you.
"Yeah?" Sunghoon quirks an eyebrow at you, moving his thumb to suddenly hover over your clit. It's not a full touch, nor does he really move it from there, but just the expectation of it has your walls involuntary flutter around his digits. A wicked grin overtakes his face, in a way you think it would clash with his prince-like features. But it looks right at home on him, the canines poking out only adding to his devilish charm.
"Then what's this? Gripping me even tighter," he says against your lips again, like he can't pick between kissing you or speaking, like anything he does he needs to do it with your taste on his mouth. He shakes his head, pouting at you before you get the chance to retort. "Squeeze me this tight when I'm inside you, and I'll believe you're trying to push me out, baby."
The press of his length against your thigh doesn't help, and when your eyes roll to the back of your head, half the reason is the new spot he's now reaching making you see stars, the other is your frustration with him. You know he's huge, and you know he cares about your comfort above all, but a little sting as he bottoms out inside you would be a hundred times better than the 'prep' he's subjecting you to. It took so long to even get here, and now he plans on making you wait even more? You have half the idea to push him off of you and get on top of him, take what's yours. If he's not gonna believe you can take him, you might as well just show him.
Of course, that wouldn't work, because Sunghoon is infinitely stronger than you are and the only thing you would accomplish is looking stupid thrashing under him as he keeps you pinned down. Probably with one arm only too, to really get his point across.
"Add another finger then." There's a certain bark in your tone that makes him chuckle. That's all it is: bark and no bite. You can do nothing but demand, and demand, and demand again, but if he's not willing to give it to you, there is close to nothing you can do about it. And it makes Sunghoon's cock twitch against the slick skin of your thighs. He loves knowing he has you at his mercy.
"Woah!" he gasps, and the fake surprise only irritates you further. Or at least that's what you tell yourself, because Sunghoon doesn't miss the way you clench around his fingers whenever he talks to you like this. "Missy, you're so bratty today… where are your manners?"
The retort is ready on your tongue, but the words mold into a surprised hiss when he actually prods your hole with a third digit, feeling around for a way to slowly ease it into you. You fear it won't be as easy as you hoped, but you also don't want to back down now that he's giving in.
"Just put it in." You angle your hips to give Sunghoon easier access.
"Easy there." He leans back on his knees, and you hate how you're so needy. Even when he's still so close, fingers pumping in and out of you at a torturous pace, you crave for every inch of your body to be touched by his, for your breaths to mingle for as long as possible. You wonder how it's possible to miss someone who's right in front of you, but your heart yearns to hear the rhythmic beat of his own against your chest all the same.
You don't get to dwell on it too long, because the sensation of something wet dribbling right where Sunghoon's fingers meet you rips you out of your thoughts.
It takes a few seconds for you to realize what's happening, but when it sinks in, your mouth slowly hangs open in a moan, eyes closed to relish the feeling.
"You like that?" Sunghoon asks, and for once you can't bring yourself to care about the cockiness in his tone. In fact, it's the last thing you could care about—not when his digits are working to spread his spit all over you, and his third finger is slowly making its way inside you right next to the others. It's a tight fit, and Sunghoon can't really move his fingers like he wishes to, but it'll do for now. He can always do it over and over again until you're ready, as long as you keep making those faces for him. "Look at you," he continues. "You were so demanding earlier, now you're falling apart and I'm barely just getting started."
You clench around him hard, body all tensed up as you accommodate the sudden change in thickness.
Sunghoon bends down again when he notices you're not easing up, trailing his way back up your body with pecks, giving you a few on your lips once he reaches your face. "Does it burn, baby?" he asks, the playful edge in his tone from earlier completely gone, smoothed down to the usual soft timbre you love so much. "Do you want me to take it out? I'll make you cum with two fingers, it's okay."
You shake your head. The stretch does burn, but you also want to prove to him that you can take him.
"You sure?" The murmur vibrates against your ear, the sound of his voice close enough to have you arching your back, pushing your stomach against his harder figure. If you had any sort of reservation about continuing, it's totally gone now. His insistence to make you comfortable always ignites pure want in you.
You nod, but your eyes are still screwed shut because of the burn, so it's not enough for Sunghoon to let go yet.
He slows down his movements, trying to help you out, but the whine you let out is enough to let him know you actually want what he's giving you and more. Still, he needs to hear it. "Use your big girl words, I know you can."
"Wanna keep going."
"Aaand?"
"Please, Hoon." You know you're far gone when you don't even care about how whiny you sound, you would get onto your knees and beg if he asked you to right then. You would want to forget about it right after, but still, you would do it in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, your boyfriend is very nice to you, so 'please and thank you's are enough to keep him satiated, at least for now.
"Good girl."
The praise goes straight to your cunt, further tightening the grip you have on his fingers. Sunghoon is flattered, but that's not what you need in that moment. So he reminds you.
"Take deep breaths, baby. It's only gonna hurt more if you don't ease up."
"Hoon, want more."
"I know baby, I know. But it'll feel better if you stop tensing up. Here, follow my breaths and let go." He kisses both of your shut eyelids. "Eyes on me, pretty. Okay?"
You obey him like it's second nature, but when you open your eyes and you're met with the downright angelic sight of your boyfriend, black strands of hair framing his face and his chain dangling slightly from his neck, you don't understand how you're supposed to calm down. He starts taking deep breaths, ones you try your best to mirror. And despite what you thought, the focus on your chest rising and falling and the warmth in Sunghoon's eyes does make the stretch a lot better. You were enjoying yourself before too, all things considered. Now it's different, you're struggling to keep your sounds in, and any other time you would be mortified by how much wetness is seeping out of your cunt, but Sunghoon's presence is relaxing in a way no one else's has ever been for you.
The more you explore each other's bodies, the more you start to think that maybe, just maybe, there is not a single thing you could do with Sunghoon that you would ever regret. The safety of a judgment free zone with someone who obviously cares deeply for you makes the experience so much better than you could have ever imagined. What other people did to you, no matter how pleasurable, just didn't measure up to what Sunghoon does with you. And you haven't even gone all the way in.
"Theeere we go, see how much better it feels when you're not being a brat?"
Sunghoon is careful with you, watching your every reaction and studying your expressions so he can learn exactly what makes crumble and what brings you closer to the edge, what makes you forget you have to breathe and when to pause so he can drag your pleasure out for as long as he wants, for as long as you can handle. His cock is rock hard, casually rutting against you from time to time. You have half a mind to reach into his boxers and help him out, but you're not sure you could do a good enough job at it, not when he's starting to bend the tips of his fingers to reach right where you need him.
You can feel yourself getting closer, so you grab his wrists—whether to stop him or push him further, you don't know yourself. What you do know, is that just fingers have never felt this good before, and if you had the choice to feel like this forever, you would take it.
The sudden grip doesn't deter Sunghoon, it encourages him instead. His movements are faster, deeper, but still just as precise. It's like he already knows the ins and outs of what brings you pleasure. "Gonna come all over my hand, baby? I know you're close."
You nod desperately, throat too raw and dry to produce sounds more complex than little whines—which Sunghoon finds adorable, he can't wait to find out what sounds you make when he's splitting you open on his cock. He coos, and that alone almost makes you cum. Almost, because what really does you in is his thumb moving to finally circle your clit, really touch it.
Your body tenses up again when your vision goes a searing white, but Sunghoon's other hand finds your thighs right away to prevent you from caging his hands between your legs. He worked hard to make you cum, so you're not gonna take the sight of your fluttering pussy away from him, not when he has rightfully earned it.
"You did so well," he says, his hand caressing the skin of your inner thigh as a reminder to relax your muscles, his thumb slowing down its movement on your clit as your walls flutter around his digits at longer intervals each time.
You eventually even out your breathing, your vision still a little fuzzy, but you feel lighter and content. Once Sunghoon is sure you're okay, he pulls you in for a sweet kiss, like he wasn't just rearranging your guts with his fingers alone moments ago.
"Perfect, you're so perfect," he whispers between kisses, landing a wet smack on your nose when you scrunch it in response. "You're always gorgeous but this—fuck, you're beautiful." He keeps kissing you, each kiss waking up a different butterfly in your stomach. You feel giddy like you haven't ever since you were a kid running through the meadow on a spring evening. You giggle when he reaches the valley of your breasts, and run your fingertips through his hair, his head resting on your chest.
"I love you," Sunghoon whispers, and for the first time in your life you know those words to be true, no hidden intention behind them, no cruel joke waiting for you at the end of the line. It feels right when they're coming out of Sunghoon's mouth.
"I know, I love you t—what are you doing." It's much more of an accusation rather than a question, because you see the little wicked glint in his eyes as he resumes kissing his way down your body—first down your navel, then between your thighs.
"Showing you how much I love you, duh." He spreads your legs as open as he can get them before you start protesting again. "Besides, I haven't gotten a taste yet."
You should stop him, because suddenly you're reminded of how he still hasn't come yet, and you would feel bad to neglect him. The look in his eyes though—needy, almost feral— keeps you pinned right in your spot. "What… about you?"
Sunghoon looks at you, genuinely confused. "What about me?"
"Yeah, I should be… helping you out." You glance down at him, and the wet patch on his boxers makes you clench around nothing. Had you not witnessed first hand how messy Sunghoon can get, you would assume he cummed already. Knowing that's only pre though, makes saliva flood into your mouth at the mere thought of your boyfriend's cock pumping load after load down your throat. Screw 'not hurting' you, you would be happy gagging and choking endlessly around him if it meant you got a tiny little taste.
"Oh baby, but you are helping me out. Just lay back and let me." Sunghoon pops two of his fingers in his mouth, tasting the residues of you high still lingering on his skin, rich and divine on his tongue. "So good, now let me get a real taste."
He trails his wet fingers up your body, relishing in the way you shiver under his touch when he brushes over your nipples. He grabs your face once he reaches it, and forces you to look at him. "Wanting to please me… aren’t you such a generous girl? So, so good for me. So eager to please, you’re so cute.” He doesn't miss how your lip twitches in response to his words, and how your hand slides between your thighs and how they close around it. “But, I'm still not done.”
“But—”
“Shhh,” he silences you right away. He parts your lips with his thumb, and your response to it is immediate, sucking on it without needing to be told what to do. You swirl your tongue around his finger eagerly, as if trying to show him what he is missing by not letting you take his cock out his pants. “See? So perfect for me. Such a pretty and obedient girl, am I right?”
You nod subconsciously, like he has you under a spell, ready to comply with anything he asks out of you. Maybe he does.
“I know that’s right.” Sunghoon takes the thumb out of your mouth, coating your lips with your own spit as he caresses them with it. “Then do what you’re told and lay back. I can fuck you another time. Now spread those legs for me mkay? Yeah, just like that. So much we can do in the meantime."
"I just don't get why he won't stick it in me."
"You have such a way with words."
You throw a fry at your best friend, only to get more irritated when he catches it midair with his mouth. Jungwon chews it loudly with his mouth open—because he knows it annoys you to death—then washes it down with his coconut milkshake that he won't let you get a sip of because 'using the same straw as me counts as cheating now that you're dating Sunghoon'.
"Okay but why? You're a man. What's the thought process behind this? Tell me."
"Girl, it's your boyfriend. You tell me."
"What if he doesn't fine me att—" A fry hits you right on your forehead, and it's like the impact activates your brain cells, because of course Sunghoon finds you attractive, that is not the problem.
"Now, let's be honest with ourselves please. None of that shit."
Your back hits the bed with a soft thud, arms spread out as you stare at the very familiar ceiling of your room. A sight you've been taking in quite often recently, while trying to come up with a plan to get Sunghoon to dick you down good.
Jungwon shoves a fist of fries in his mouth, barely chewing before speaking again. "I don't get why it's such a big deal."
You roll onto your side, facing the blonde little gremlin occupying the space next to you. "It's a big deal because— why is your ass on my pillow. Jungwon get—"
He silences you by feeding you a handful of fries from the container on his lap. "You were saying?"
You gulp them down quickly before replying, because you're civilized enough to do so, unlike someone else. "We've done it all, and I know he's scared of hurting me, but I can also tell he's holding back. I'm ready– I've been ready. It's just… whenever I think it's gonna happen he pulls back so suddenly, like he's restraining himself."
"Mhh… you've talked to him about this, right?" Jungwon looks at you in a way that feels entirely too judgmental, like skipping the communication part is something you do often enough for it to be a pattern. Something he needs to check off of a list before he gives you more advice.
He's not completely wrong. As in, at one point in your life you had made an habit out of assuming people's thoughts and intentions, but that is in the past. And those people are not your Park Sunghoon.
The polaroids messily scattered on the wall above your desk, like someone had dropped them and they'd defied gravity to stay there, glimmer as the sun starts its golden descent into the horizon. Old, more ruined around the edges ones you took right after Jungwon got you a polaroid camera with his very first salary from working at an ice cream shop over the summer. Pictures of sunsets and dumb words carved into sandy beaches, of thumbs digging into teenager Jungwon's dimples. Newer, glossier ones that you took when Sunghoon gifted you a new camera, after the one Jungwon got you finally broke down after years. You'd cried so hard that day, because it had felt like growing up.
The charger is still hidden under all the mess of receipts in your comforter's drawer, you still hope one day the pink sticker covered camera will turn on if you charge it long enough.
But some things are meant to stay in the past, and better ones are always hiding behind the corner, ready to come your way.
You aren't the young girl with the pink polaroid camera anymore, just like you're not the girl that is scared to voice her thoughts and troubles any longer.
"Of course I have."
"And?"
"Won, he just tells me I need more prep. I've had plenty of that, trust me. Like, he's spent the last month using this toy on—"
"Okay, okay I get it. I trust you, spare me the details."
"—Point is, I'm more than ready. I know it's gonna be uncomfortable and a bit painful at first, he's like… so huge it's—"
"I get it."
"—but that's a given with how big he is. I think it's just… him being nervous, really."
"Have you… tried to, uhm. Take charge? Maybe you calling the shots would make it easier for him to let loose." Jungwon looks down on his lap as he plays with the rings adorning his fingers. You wouldn't say he has ever been particularly shy per se, not when it comes to discussing your sexual life, even in heavy detail. He was the boy your mother made you take a bath with after a whole day of rolling around in dirt as a kid, because his wasn't around a lot of the time. The same boy who has seen you toothless and with horrible haircuts, who has seen all your embarrassing phases. Talking to Jungwon was much more akin to talking to yourself rather than venting to a diary, because he stored secrets in his heart that you would never be comfortable writing down on paper. Except he also calls you a dumbass when he needs to.
It's been a little different ever since you started dating Sunghoon freshly out of college, but you imagine it can't be helped since Jungwon is also very close to him.
You take a deep breath, shoulders slumping with the motion. Yeah, like that would ever work. "He doesn't give up dominance ever, really. I have tried a few times but…" you trail off, thoughts suddenly plagued with images of Sunghoon putting you back in your place instantly whenever you tried to take charge. You have already given it some thought, a lot of thought, actually. What wouldn't you do to have Sunghoon under you and at your mercy, so responsive to every touch, perhaps even tied down. Yeah, you're gonna have to bring it up more seriously to him, maybe then he would let you—
"Are you seriously fantasizing about dominating your boyfriend right in front of my cheddar fries?"
But you're gonna continue that thought another time.
"Let's see then…" Jungwon continues, evidently determined to find a solution to your problem. "Maybe act out? Would that work? Mhhh… I don't know, you're already very annoying day to day and he puts up with that…so."
Jungwon genuinely looks like he is putting so much thought into it, somehow it makes it more offensive.
"Yeah. And who grew up next to him? You. Exactly. You trained his patience, if anything," you retort, but Jungwon doesn't even give you the satisfaction of acknowledging it, because you both know that you do love to be a nuisance to your boyfriend whenever you get the chance.
"Wait." Jungwon perks up after a seconds of deep thought, making the plushies on your bed fall on the floor, but the situation is so dire that you don't scold him. Instead, you cast a hopeful glance in his direction. Please let his brain cells work for once in his life.
"Isn't Hoon like, terribly jealous every time someone brings up that time you and Jay dated in high school?"
The cogs in your brain turn, and if someone was to walk into the room at that moment they would be able to smell the fumes coming out of your and Jungwon's head.
Jungwon continues, though he doesn't need to, because you have caught what he is hinting to already. "You need him to snap? What better reason to if not some good ol' jealousy. Am I right?"
But of course he is, that little gremlin genius.
"And, it just happens that a few high school acquaintances are organizing a get together soon. You know people will bring up you and Jay, just drag Hoon along. It's fate."
"Have I ever told you that you're my bestest friend ever and that I owe you my life, Won?"
Your plan is not working out as expected.
Getting everyone on board took you and Jungwon some time, but they all eventually agreed to come along. Sunghoon himself was the one with the most reservations, since he moved away halfway through high school and he missed a good chunk of it. Most importantly, he missed how you and the others became friends in the first place, so he's always been a little bitter about it.
Calling it a plan was an overstatement. You wore a skimpy little outfit, black miniskirt and sheer thighs, and bet on someone bringing up how you and Jay used to date in front of Sunghoon. You hoped that would make him jealous enough to grab you and drag you home, maybe teach you a lesson that you would inevitably learn nothing from.
Instead, you get sulky Sunghoon with a beer in his hand, looking at you like a kicked puppy as you and Jay make conversation with your old acquaintances. It doesn't help that Jungwon refuses to pick up his phone so you two can come up with something quick to stir the night towards your desired outcome.
The call goes into voicemail again, and you sigh for the hundredth time that night as you end it and open up his chat to type in another text.
"No answer yet?" Jay asks, smoothing his pink dress shirt. He's always the classier looking guy in the room, no matter where he goes, but the hue of pink he chose for the night makes him stand out further in the sea of swarming bodies.
You shake your head. You're in a quieter corner, away from the thumping speakers, but your throat is sore after all the screaming you did over the deafening music. You thought you would get used to the volume when a few of the people at the reunion suggested moving to a club across the street to end the night with a bang, just like the old times, but it somehow got progressively worse instead.
From your side, Jake puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles to catch someone's attention, and when it doesn't work, Jay laughs at him.
"Sunghoon looks bored, I think we should call it a night," Jay says.
"Bored? He looks like he's gonna murder the next poor soul that steps too close to Y\N," Jake takes a swing of the drink he's holding, something that looks like aged whiskey. Very much unlike anything Jake would order. He hisses after the liquid burns his throat, even when diluted by the melted ice. "Jay, my man, your taste is so ass."
You give the interaction a half hearted laugh. Despite your original plan, you hate seeing Sunghoon so uncomfortable, especially when you know he only came along to make you happy. He insists he doesn't belong surrounded by people who pretend to remember who he is and keep bringing up stuff that happened in the past expecting a glint of recognition from him. You tell him there are multiple people with a similar experience to his even when they attended all years, you tell him he belongs anywhere as long as you and the other guys are there. He tells you those are the people that don't get invited to these sort of events.
"It's getting late anyway, maybe we should just go," you say, checking your notification bar for any sign of life from Jungwon. Still nothing.
"I'll go get Won." Jake throws back the remaining drink, scrunching his eyes and hissing at the bitter taste he still isn't accustomed to.
You take a second to scan your surroundings, and the swaying mass of sweaty bodies makes you nauseous. You used to love getting rocked back and forth by the music, uncaring for a single thing in the world if not the overwhelming love you felt for everyone and everything around you when alcohol buzzed through your system. When you were younger, it felt like ibuprofen for your soul. Now, it only amplifies the hurt in your chest when you think about how heavy this night must have been for your boyfriend.
Before you can make your way to him, someone grabs your attention.
"Jay! And you over there, it's been a while."
You instinctively turn towards the loud voice, finding a vaguely familiar face cockily grinning in your direction.
"She has a name." Jay takes a deep breath and gives you a look, his jaw tense, and that alone is enough to let you know right away the guy in front of you is nothing but trouble.
The guy continues as if you weren't even there to listen to the conversation. A ghost. "Doesn't matter, being your girlfriend is all she was known for back then." He takes a swing of his beer, taste as bitter as his voice. He's very obviously drunk out of his mind, words slurring and step unsteady, but his words annoy you anyway.
"Excuse m—" you try to interject, but he speaks right over you.
"You two back together?"
Jay looks like he's seconds away from punching him, but you simply shake your head no. "Oh! No, and I'm not single actually. My boyfriend's here—" you turn around to look for Sunghoon where you last saw him, and beam when you find him right as he walks up to you. His shoulders relax just the tiniest bit when he notices how relieved you look when you meet his gaze, the way you reserve that look to him only, the way you light up as soon as you spot him. "There he is! Perfect timing, baby."
Sunghoon slides a hand around your waist possessively, placing a soft kiss to your temple to really get the point across. "I was looking for you."
Truth is, he wasn't. He had his eyes on you the entire time, but you were playing with your rings and kept readjusting your clothes as the conversation was unfolding, and Jay looked uneasy too, so he figured nothing good was being said.
"Yeah, sorry! Just catching up with friends from back in the day. Y'know, reminiscing and stuff. Have you seen Won around?" You want to diffuse the situation before the idiot in front of you says anything he might regret. You want Hoon to be a little jealous, not for him to get you all kicked out of a party because someone decided to run their mouth a little too much. Your hand finds his exposed biceps, and it looks like he made the right choice by stepping in, because now that he is all up in your space, you're visibly more comfortable.
Sunghoon shakes his head. Last time he caught a sight of Jungwon in the crowded space was when the night had barely started, and he wore a cowboy hat as he shoved his tongue down some girl's throat. Good for him. "He's probably… catching up with acquaintances too."
You look like you are about to say something, but the nameless guy interrupts you before you get a single word out. It gives Sunghoon all the more reason to dislike him, even before he listens to what he has to says. "And you are? I don't recall seeing you around."
"Oh! Hoon just moved to a different school halfway through high school, but we're all friends," Jay replies instead, familiar with his best friend's feelings about his high school years.
"Then why is he here?"
Sunghoon's jaw clenches. You squeeze his arm as if to remind him you are next to him, and he melts instantly into your touch.
"I'm here because my girl and my friends are. Now if you'd be so kind, we are trying to have a nice night, and you're interfering with that." Sunghoon turns around, holding you against his chest as he starts to make his way to the bar to grab another beer.
"Yeah? You know your friend and your girl used to fuck? Maybe they still do."
Sunghoon was raised to be a patient man. One that counts to ten before reacting, a man who wouldn't even hurt a fly. So it must be the alcohol fueling his actions, because before he realizes what he is doing, he grabs the guy by his shirt, knuckles white as a ghost making the material wrinkle in his hold. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Sunghoon knows he is being provoked, but not even Jay trying to step between them can do anything to calm his anger, not when the poor bastard spits on his shirt, then says something that he really shouldn't have.
"I mean look at her." The man laughs, and it's bitter, filled with something more sinister than mere disgust. It's envy. "Are you surprised? She's dressed like a whore."
Sunghoon moves before you have the time to grab him, right fist colliding with so much force against the man's face, his lip breaks on contact. He wobbles a bit, hit taking him by surprise, but he just gathers the blood dripping inside his mouth and spits it by Sunghoon's feet.
"Hey! Hey." Jay grabs the guy's arm, roughly yanking him back as a crowd of people starts to notice the commotion, heading to take a look at what's happening, a few bodyguards included.
"So tough," the man starts a laughs interrupted by winching when his broken lip curls too much. "Take that out on your so called friend—"
Your voice drowns out the rest of the sentence. "Baby, please."
Sunghoon looks at you, and for a second you doubt he sees you. There's so much anger in his eyes, like he wants nothing more than to rip the little bitch in front of him to pieces. They're almost unfamiliar in a way that send shivers down your spine. You hate the fact that you can't tell if it's fear or lust. But the storm behind his gaze clears out for a second when he sees the alarm on your pretty face, just the one you need. "I wanna go home."
No matter the anger coursing through Sunghoon's bloodstream like venom, thick black poison inciting him to turn back and finish the job, his conscience always prioritizes your well being and what you want. So when you take his hand a make a beeline for the exit, he follows without a single complaint.
The car ride back home is uncomfortably silent.
Sunghoon doesn't hum the random tune playing on the radio like he usually does, he doesn't hold your thigh nor does he even spare you a glance, and you start worrying he might be mad at you.
The words said about you earlier sting, but they don't hold a candle next to Sunghoon's silence. You want to speak up, fill the void that is so uncharacteristically awkward, but the words die in your throat the second you try to push them out.
A ding! followed by your phone screen lighting up signals a new notification, and you swipe through your phone to find out if Jungwon has finally made his existence known.
It's a text from Jay. You notice how Sunghoon's eyes dart to your phone for a split second before going back to focusing on the road ahead, his jaw twitching under the street lights.
00:27 AM. Jongie <3: You guys made it home yet?
00:28 AM. you: not yet, you? did you find the others?
Last thing you heard as you dragged Sunghoon out of the club was Jay arguing with both the still nameless guy and two bodyguards who had been notified of commotion next to the bar. Your main goal was to get your boyfriend the hell out of there before he broke someone's face in, but now that you're away from the mess and the dizziness from the alcohol has started to die down, leaving your muscles and bones tired, you worry for your friends too.
00:29 AM. Jongie <3: Heading back now, Jake texted me he found Won.
00:29 AM. Jongie <3: Wasted, ofc. But apparently Jake's taking care of him now.
00:31 AM. you: don't know if i like the sound of that. will they ever let us back in there?
00:33 AM. Jongie <3: Yeah no chance, Won won't be happy when he finds out.
00:35 AM. you: how did him and jake even get home?
You lock your phone for good after Jay confirms Jake mumbled something about a really nice girl with a great rack driving them home, deciding you'll deal with their bullshit another day, when you're completely sober and not worried about what your unusually silent boyfriend might be thinking.
Just in time for Sunghoon to pull into his driveway. He doesn't remind you to take your bag with you as he always does, he doesn't wait for you to be out of the car before heading straight towards his front door. Truth be told, you're more shocked he didn't just drop you off at your own apartment because now you're really sure he must be upset with you.
It's dumb, really. What that guy said is anything but your fault. But your panicked mind makes up scenarios in which Sunghoon knows you wanted to make him jealous, wanted to get a reaction out of him for something as silly as getting him to properly fuck you. It convinces you he has every right to be upset.
His hand twitches in pain for a second while unlocking the door, dried blood—both his and not—staining his pristine knuckles, and it only aids in making you feel worse. You follow him through the entrance, and he waits for you to walk inside before locking the door for the night. It's now or never.
It takes all the courage you can find within yourself to speak, and still your voice comes out uneven, shaky, things your voice has never been when talking to Park Sunghoon. "I'm really, really sorry."
He turns back to you like you just said the most shocking sentence he's ever heard in his life, and he quickly grabs you by your hips when he notices just how scared you look. He quickly realizes you must've mistaken his silent attempt at calming down his anger at the situation for coldness towards you for some reason, and his heart breaks a little at the thought of having made you doubt yourself. When he answers, it's the softest you've ever heard him. "What for, pretty girl?"
Tears well in your eyes when you fail to find the words. You're sorry for so many things, you don't even know where to start. You're sorry for dragging him somewhere he didn't even wanna be in the first place, sorry for taking advantage of his kindness for your own benefit, you're sorry his knuckles are raw and bloodied just because he had to defend you. Above all, you're sorry for being so damn selfish.
Sunghoon carefully caresses your face with his clean hand, so none of that bastard's blood goes anywhere near your pretty features. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip like it's second nature, silently waiting for you to say what's on your mind. He searches your gaze, but you're too busy trying to not burst into tears right there in front of him, so he lowers his hand to your jaw and gently angles your head upwards.
His eyes are kind and warm, no hint of the searing coldness they held mere minutes ago. "None of what happened today is your fault," he speaks slowly, sincerely. He makes sure every single word leaving his lips is loud and clear, no room for misunderstanding or doubt. Sunghoon is smart, he knows you like no one ever has put in the effort to. "I'm sorry if I made you doubt yourself back there, I should've said something. I'm sorry." He sounds secure and confident in what he's saying, but the little unsteady breath and the sharp swallow that come right after betray him. His hand slightly trembles on your skin, and it makes your heart sink even more.
Something else to add to the list. You're also sorry for making Sunghoon feel guilty over your emotions when he never did anything wrong to begin with.
You still struggle to speak, especially when Sunghoon is looking into your eyes as one would towards the light shining through the water surface after holding their breath in far too long, like it means being able to breathe again. There's a devotion in him you've never seen, something actors on a stage cannot replicate, something you don't think words to describe it have been spoken out yet. Something purely unique to you and him.
When your words fail you, you show him your own devotion in a different way.
There's a medication kit Sunghoon got forever ago solely to patch up Jake and Won whenever their Jake and Won antics get them hurt (very often, comically often). Never in your life would you have imagined Sunghoon to be on the receiving end of the care, but here you are.
Sunghoon follows you wordlessly to the couch, giving no protest when you point to sit down while you take your spot next to him.
The saline stings as you carefully clean the wound, but Sunghoon makes no show of it. You finally have a reason to look at somethings else other than his eyes as you gather your thoughts, but he doesn't lose sight of the frown deepening on your face.
Sunghoon watches you intently through his now messy bangs as you hold his bigger hand in yours as if it were made out of the most precious, frail glass. His fingers are way thicker than yours are, but you brush against his knuckles with the cotton just as softly as he kisses your forehead seconds before you let yourself be taken by slumber in his arms every night. He sees all the expressions fluttering on your face, he gives you the time he knows you need. He knows there's something you need to get off your chest.
When the blood stains the cotton instead of his skin, you speak up, "Does it hurt?"
Sunghoon hums in disagreement, the sound dry in his throat. You press into the raw skin a little harder, earning a low hiss from him. "Don't lie to me. We don't lie to each other."
"We don't, but you're hiding something from me." He stops before continuing, his voice a mere whisper, "what's wrong?"
"You got hurt because of me."
"That's not—"
"Yes you did." And once the river of words tumbling out of your mouth starts, it can't be stopped any longer. "I know how you feel about high school and—"
"It's not that—"
"But it is. I don't care if it was five years ago or ten or fifteen, I know you feel a certain way about it and don't lie to me to spare my feelings because it makes me only feel worse. You feel a way about it and I still went out of my way to take advantage of it for such a stupid reason and now I feel like a fucking idiot. And it also got you hurt."
"Baby," Sunghoon says after a moment of quiet, only filled by your heavy breathing. "Hey."
You busy yourself by grabbing the gauze in the little med kit next to you, but you make the mistake of glancing at him for a second, and the little smile dancing on his lips keeps your eyes glued to the sight.
"It's only a few scratches. What's all this really about?"
"I just… fuck, I'm never living this down." You stretch the white bandage over Sunghoon's wound, wrapping it a few times to fully secure it. You take a deep breath, buying yourself more time by inspecting your boyfriend's fingers like they're the most interesting thing you've ever seen in your life. He playfully taps his index against your palm. It makes you smile despite your best efforts not to. "I just wanted to make you jealous."
You say it so quietly even Sunghoon, barely inches away from you, almost misses it. Almost, because you hear the teasing in his tone loud and clear. "Jealous?"
Cat's out of the bag anyway, so you might as well explain yourself. "Before you say anything, Won gave me the idea."
"Of course."
"I just, y'know. Best friend stuff," you say, as if it's the answer to everything.
"Best friend stuff… as in?" Sunghoon keeps prodding, and the faint smile you hear as he speaks without having to take a look at him simultaneously makes you want to grin and roll your eyes at him. You bite your inner cheek instead.
"As in… complaining about my boyfriend…"
"Oh, you must have so much to complain about."
"Well, for starters, my boyfriend doesn't want to fuck me—"
Sunghoon erupts in a fits of boyish giggles when he finally figures out what's going on, delighted to see how embarrassed you are by this whole ordeal. He grabs you by your hips and sits you right on top of his lap so suddenly you let out a little shriek of surprise. "Trust me, your boyfriend would love nothing more than to fuck you through the mattress."
Your hands rest on his shoulders, and you lower your chest against his, noses brushing each other. "Then what's stopping him?"
Sunghoon's warm breath tickles your lips when he whispers, "Maybe he thinks your pretty little pussy can't take it yet."
A warm feeling travels through your body, settling into your lower abdomen, and just when you think he's gonna kiss you, he pulls back and rests his back on the cushion behind him, sinking further into the soft couch and pulling you down with him.
"Hoon—"
"Mh-mh. You haven't told me what Won's idea was yet."
"You know it." You raise your hand to playfully hit his chest, but he's faster than you are and catches your wrist midway with his injured hand.
"I don't know a damn thing," Sunghoon says as he brings his lips to the back of your hand, letting them brush gently against your soft skin before placing a small peck. "Go on, enlighten me."
You pout, but Sunghoon's set on making you talk, and even though you're stubborn and embarrassed, you know he won't let it go until he's satisfied with your response.
And, the slowly growing hardness under your exposed panties, combined with the residuals of alcohol still buzzing through your system are making it hard for you to stand your ground. Not when Sunghoon looks as good as he does with his bangs messily covering his eyes, and fitted short sleeve highlighting his hard chest underneath the cotton. Unfortunately for you.
You move on his lap, adjusting your position so you can feel more of him through the thin material covering you. You crave the harsh coarseness of his jeans on you, for the heat seeping out of him to envelope you fully. You're on top of him, thighs straddling his, yet you feel the invisible push to be even closer. As close as you physically can be.
Sunghoon sees the hunger in your eyes, he has all this time. He too is barely hanging on by a thread, and the self restraint he's miraculously managed to keep until now is dwindling by the second. All the times you've begged for him, all the times he's fucked your pretty pussy open with different toys, bigger and thicker each time. All the times he's had to take cold showers after seeing the raw need for him to claim you fully reflected in your eyes, even after coaxing orgasm after of orgasm out of you. You're so insatiable, but he might be even worse. Once he gives in, he doesn't think he'll be able to let you go ever.
Sunghoon knows you've felt ready for a long time, and even if he thinks you could use more getting used to bigger sizes before he allows himself to finally sink into you, the temptation gnaws at him all the same.
He just needs a little confirmation.
"Tell me, what was this master plan of yours?" he speaks with his mouth pressed to your palm, softly running his nose down to your wrist, allowing himself to bask in the warmness of the scent you chose for the night.
"Won's, not mine."
"That you willingly agreed to."
"I just… wanted to make you jealous." You finally admit, avoiding Sunghoon's gaze at all costs.
"How so? Wearing this tiny little dress?" His voice is lower, more dangerous. He slides his free hand to grab a handful of your barely covered ass, the skirt having ridden up to your waist almost completely. "You know I like it when the attention's on you. They can look all they want, you're mine." The movement causes you to jerk up against his crotch, earning a low grunt from the man beneath you.
"Tell me, baby," Sunghoon rocks you slowly against his hard bulge, caging his bottom lip between his teeth as he takes in your needy and embarrassed form. "How did you plan to make me jealous? Why?"
Your hand slides down his chest and dips under the thin shirt before caressing just over the waistband of his underwear peeking out of the dark jeans. "I thought it would be a smart idea to drag you along to the get together, and I guess I hoped someone would bring me and Jay up. I know how you feel about it and I wanted to use it to my advantage, but I also didn't consider how you'd feel surrounded by strangers reminding you of all the time you and the guys lost. All the time we lost. You came to make me happy and I was being selfish the entire time. You even got hurt because of me—"
"Not because of you. He should be thankful you were there to stop me or I would've broken his ugly face in."
"Still. I'm so sorry. It was childish."
A beat passes without either of you saying anything, and you twitch uncomfortably in his lap.
"Why?"
Your lip trembles, and your heart sinks at the thought of having angered your angel of a boyfriend. Tears well up in your eyes before you even attempt to explain yourself, but Sunghoon gently angles your chin toward him until you're met with his gaze. It's intense, darker than you've ever seen in all your time knowing him. He searches your face for something, and you realize it's not anger casting shadows behind his eyes. It's pure, unfiltered lust.
"Why did you want me jealous?" His voice is raw, like it pains him to produce a single sound, like whatever you answer him with is the honey that will soothe it.
You twitch again, and this time you're not scared, but your insides twist all the same. He rest heavy and hot under you, and you don't know how you'll handle another rejection if that's what this is leading to.
"I wanted you to fuck me, really fuck me. I hoped it would be enough to push you to the breaking point, Sunghoon.“ You swallow hard, and the saliva in your mouth feels thicker than usual. Maybe it is, maybe you're just more aware of all the sensations within your body. "I need you to break."
It's all Sunghoon needs to hear.
He lurches forward to capture your lips with his, harsh and messy, like an animal that has finally broken out of the restraint keeping it chained. His hands roam all over your body, eager to explore every single inch as if it's the first time he ever does.
You reciprocate him with just as much hunger behind every movement, hands slipping from his body to his hair to pull his head back. You grind your hips against his, moves deliberately slow compared to the feverish kiss. "I need you. I don't wanna wait anymore."
Sunghoon moans into your mouth when you release his hair, and he doubles his efforts, sliding his fingers through the wide gaps of the fishnets covering your thighs, big palms fully working you on top of his bulge.
"You want it so bad, baby?" He says between open mouthed kisses, full lips raw and red from the fight with yours. "I'm gonna give it all to you."
Uncaring for the mess of knocked over stuff you two leave in your wake, from Sunghoon's keys loudly hitting the ground to your heels abandoned somewhere on the carpet, you make your way to his room without ever letting go of each other. All around you is just background noise and things you'll think of later, the only thing that seems to matter is to get in bed and get rid of all the pent up frustration clouding your minds.
The door shuts closed and soon your back hits the bed with a soft thud, Sunghoon's hands heavy on your hips and mouth hot on your neck as he carves a wet path on your sensitive skin, caging you between his hard chest and the mattress. He wraps your leg around his middle, and when your cores touch again, you both sigh in relief.
You've spent all this time on the cusp of finally getting something more, waiting—albeit not so patiently on your part—for the right moment, and now that you both know you're just moments away from it, seconds seem to stretch out into hours and even the slightest teasing feels unbearable.
That's what you think, at least. Because Sunghoon is nothing but a tease at heart, and he has very different plans in store for you.
You take advantage of the little moment of pause to undress yourself, but Sunghoon stops you as soon as he notices what you're trying to do.
"Keep it on," he murmurs along your neck, feeling your pulse quicken right under his full lips. He kisses along your collarbones, to your shoulder, exactly where the strap of your dress rests. His teeth graze the material, and he draws back slightly before letting it snap back into place, the slight sting making you jump just the tiniest bit in his hold. "You wanted to make me jealous in this? Then I'll fuck you in it." He mouths his way back up, until he reaches your ear, teeth gently biting right where he knows it makes shivers spread all over your body. "Next time you wear it, my cock is all you'll be able to think about."
You can't hide the way your body reacts to his words, thighs pressing together from the sheer excitement.
Sunghoon toys with the strings of your fishnets, and for a moment you think you should take them off, but he just rips a hole through them, allowing his hand to finally slide underneath them and grab your ass as harshly as he wants. "These were getting on my nerves."
"I can take them—"
Sunghoon silences you with a kiss, slower than the previous one, calculated and meticulous but every bit as passionate. His teeth sink into your bottom lip until you gasp against his mouth, his tongue gently licking away at your lip to soothe the sting. He pulls your core closer to his, unabashedly moaning into your mouth as he ruts his hips into yours.
The tights start to frustrate you the more he works himself against your panties. You want to be closer, you need to feel him push against you completely, and they're in the way. So once again, you try to rid yourself of them.
Sunghoon keeps you still. "These stay on until I tell you to take them off." His tone is commanding, but not abrasive, muffled by your skin. "Understood?"
You barely nod when suddenly he's bending you at his will like you're his to drag around as he pleases, and while usually you would've fought back just for the sake of it, you play nice this time, doing anything to not have him changes his mind and leave you hanging once again.
He sets you on your knees, facing the headboard of his king sized bed, a sturdy and thick thing, wood carved with elegant loops and twirls all around the edges. They gleam and cast shadows alike when Sunghoon reaches over you to turn on the bedside lamp.
The same hand steadies your hip as he lowers himself onto you, pressing his chest to your back and littering kisses from your temple to your neck. "Aren't you such a cute little thing?" he whispers into your ear, chucking when he feels you shudder under his weight. "So needy and desperate, making up plans just to have my cock in your tight pussy." He's so big, so warm. So strong. It makes your knees weak, and you would crumble on the soft mattress if not for his large hand keeping you still. "Should've just come to me right away, should've begged for my cock like the good girl I know you can be." His other hand starts to travel down your body, and your thighs instinctively spread open to accommodate him.
Pride blooms in Sunghoon's heart. You're so pliant for him, sweetly allowing him to touch you all over, your body responding so well to his slightest touch, to his softest word. The trust you have in him makes his cock harder in his pants, but he's always been a patient man. A man that enjoys taking his time playing with his meal before sinking his teeth into it.
That, and you still have a lesson to learn. "But you've been bad, so bad." He bites your earlobe as his fingers hook onto one of the little holes in your tights, right over your throbbing core, so needy and ready to be claimed by him. You hear a loud rip before you realize what's going on.
His fingers immediately find your panties, slick and stuck to your drooling lips, and he starts touching you over them like all the teasing he's subjected you to until then isn't enough to satisfy him. "You'll make it up to me, yeah? You'll make me proud and happy." He licks along the shell of your ear, and your thighs shake, spreading open once more to coax him into touching you better. "I'll only fuck you when I'm satisfied with how sorry you are."
"Hoon—"
"Don't worry, baby." His fingers dip under the fabric, finally really touching you for the first time that night. He slides two fingers between your lips to coat them in your juices as he keeps talking to you in a tone that almost seems belittling, the pout in his voice too heavy and pronounced for it to be honest. "I'll make it worth it. All the time we waited will be worth it. I just have to get you nice and ready, dripping for me."
You have half a mind to turn around and fight him, because you don't understand how you could physically get wetter even if you wanted to be patient and take it. "I'm already wet," you say, and it comes out a little harsher than you intend for it to.
"Look at you," Sunghoon mocks you, the bite in your response only making him chuckle lowly in your ear, the vibrations from the sound make wetness pool on his digits, much to his amusement. "Can't keep the brattiness in check even when you should feel sorry. How can I take your apologies seriously?"
You open your mouth to answer, but his fingers pinch your clit before you get a single word out, replaced by a shriek that sounds something right in between pleasure and pain.
"Less talking." Sunghoon doesn't stop or lessen his touch on your poor sensitive bundle of nerves. Instead, he rolls it between his fingers, coaxing loud moans out of you with every single movement. "More of this."
The bed creaks under Sunghoon's knees as he detaches from your already quivering form and gets up to grab something. You complain with a little whine at the sudden loss, but just a quick glance in his direction tells you to stay still and be patient.
"Where's your phone?" Sunghoon asks. It sounds a lot more like an order.
"My… huh? My phone?"
"Your phone. Where is it?"
You gawk at him for a second, still in the same position despite the dull ache in your knees slowly but surely setting in, your mouth agape as you try to rack your brain for an explanation as to why the fuck Sunghoon needs your phone since he doesn't seem to be planning on offering you one. "In my bag. On the couch, I think."
It's only a few seconds before your boyfriend returns with your phone in his hand, and throws it carelessly on the bed next to you. He returns to his previous position, the warmth radiating from his body soothing you even when you don't know what to expect next.
You'd be lying if you said you don't enjoy this stricter version of your ever so loving and doting boyfriend, thighs clenching at the thought of the danger lurking behind his sweet demeanor.
"Unlock your phone and open Jay's chat." Sunghoon's calm facade is completely gone, replaced by pure fire.
"What?"
"You heard me." His grip on your thighs tightens, possessive and angry. "You're gonna open Jay's chat and record while I fuck your pussy with my fingers, and you'll have him hear how good I make you feel."
You're breathless, adrenaline pumping through your system and ears ringing at the thought of doing something so obscene, with one of your best friends on the other end of it no less. "Hoon, Jay didn't have anything to do with this… we shouldn't—"
"I don't care." Sunghoon bites your neck, sharp canines poking you just enough to elicit a gasp out of you. "You'll do as I say and tell him you won't ever go back."
He sounds so possessive, so unlike any version of him you have experienced, and just this little taste has you obsessed. You love the soft spoken, big sweetheart he always is, and you love the sleeping beast hidden just beneath the surface too. You love the anticipation of what's to come, not knowing which side of Sunghoon you're gonna get.
Your hand trembles as you reach for the phone, his is sure and steady as it makes its descent down to your wet pussy again. Sunghoon takes his time, letting his fingers ghost on your thighs for a little before sliding the panties off of you. You hear him moan behind you, and you're glad you don't get to see what you suspect is him licking off the wetness off the fabric he just rid you of. That would be way too much for you in the moment, you think.
The Jongie <3 contact in your favorites section seems so silly now that you're mere seconds away from letting him hear how your boyfriend fucks you, so you take a few deep breaths in preparation. As if sensing your hesitation, Sunghoon quickly places a gentle kiss to your temple, and just like that, he's back to his caring self. "You said you're sorry, baby. You should show me, but you don't have to."
You press the voice message recording button moments later, heart thrumming loudly in your ears as you slide your finger up so it keeps recording hands free.
"Such a brave girl. So, so good for me." Sunghoon praises you, and it soothes some of the anxiety you feel, his tone thick and sweet as honey, you barely recognize it as the same one that was giving you harsh commands earlier.
The downright filthy sound of Sunghoon's digits spreading your pussy lips open has you cowering in embarrassment, but your boyfriend doesn't care. He needs Jay to hear how absolutely soaked you are. He wastes no time, pushing in three fingers inside you.
Your mouth is hung open in a silent moan, eyebrows knit together and eyes closed, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden sensation. It stings, even when you're so wet it's dripping down your thighs by now, but his fingers are so long and thick the initial stretch is always uncomfortable, despite all the training.
Sunghoon doesn't like that, so he gives you no time, no warning, and just starts pumping in and out of you, curling the tips just like he does when you're about to cum and need the tiniest push. He's unfair, so unfair, because how are you supposed to keep your sounds down like you planned to when he's finger fucking you like it's his life mission to have you come undone in record time?
You don't know if it's an ego thing, or he just wants to make your punishment that much harder. It must be both, because within seconds you're moaning and gasping out in pleasure for him and Jay so beautifully, really putting on a show for the both of them. But it's so hard to focus and remember what you're supposed to say, and the longer the voice message is, the more mortified you'll be in the morning.
For now, satisfying Sunghoon's thirst for punishment and placating the jealousy you yourself caused is your top priority. You'll think about the consequences another time.
"Aren't you gonna say hi? Where are your manners?" Sunghoon's mouth drops to your ear, the movement of his fingers inside of your cunt relentless and not giving you a single second to breathe properly. It doesn't matter to him, how much harder he's making for you to accomplish your task. He basks in it, even. He's proud of how just his fingers are enough to turn you dumb with pleasure.
"I—mh," you try your best to muffle the moans cascading from your lips, to no avail. Even if you managed to do so, the incredibly loud squelching noises in the background would betray you.
"Need a hand?" he laughs dryly, and you feel the faint presence of a fourth finger next to the other three, waiting to slide in and stretch you open further.
"Hoon!" you gasp in surprise.
"That's right, baby. That's who you belong to. Tell Jay."
"I—I belong to—Hoon! I can't!"
His fourth digit keeps prodding around to find a possible entrance, but you're already so full you think any more would actually break you. "How do you plan to let me fuck you, then?"
He's teasing you. You both know you can and you will. It's just a matter of taking it slowly. His finger is suddenly not trying to inch inside you anymore, despite how lost you both are in the moment, your comfort comes first always. It just means Sunghoon will find another way.
He speaks lowly against your ear, but it's enough for your phone to pick it up clearly, "Once I'll split you open on my cock like you've been begging for, nothing else will ever satisfy you. No one else will. Once I claim your little hole, it's mine. Jay's seen how big I am. He knows it too. Tell him whose pussy I'm about to split open."
"Mine." You gasp at a particularly harsh thrust.
"No. Mine." The sheer command in his voice makes you clench even more around his fingers, as if the fit isn't already tight enough. "Try again."
"Yours! It's yours."
"Good fucking girl." He moans against you, his hot breath rising goose bumps all over your skin. "Tell him you'll never go back to him," he adds after a moment, quieter.
The pace he is fingering you at slows down just enough so you can actually get a coherent sentence out, and you're silently grateful for this little show of mercifulness on Sunghoon's part. If not for this, the voice mail would probably end up being an hour long.
"I'll never—mh. Go back to you."
"Good. So good. Now tell him how happy you are with me, happier than you ever were with him. Tell him you love me," he rasps, high on the reassurance you're providing him. High on how obedient you are for him.
"Love Hoon so much, I love him. I love him so so much. Hoon, please." You're a mess, dripping down onto the bedsheets and clamping around his fingers so hard any more would probably cut Sunghoon's blood flow. The more you grip him, the wider you spread your thighs to accommodate him, like you're silently begging for him to be harsher. He has half a mind to fulfill your body's wordless plea.
"Look at you, spreading your pretty legs for me. You like it when I talk to you like this? Does it make your little pussy wetter?"
You're so tight, so wet, and Sunghoon is so impossibly hard. He could cum right there just thinking about how good you'll feel wrapped around him, walls convulsing and milking him for all he's worth with every orgasm he gives you. For every orgasm you bless him with.
A sight for sore eyes, one Jay will never see nor hear. Because as soon as he can sense you climbing up your high, getting so close, your walls fluttering against his curled up digits in preparation and juices plentifully seeping out of you, he grabs your phone and ends the recording himself.
Sunghoon moves, and suddenly you miss the weight of his chest pressing into your back, but the pace of his fingers inside you slows down again. You wail as you feel the climax you were so close to dissipate, and suddenly you feel like invisible ropes are keeping your front tied to the bed. Your back gives in under the pressure, arching in ways that should be uncomfortable but it's the only outlet other than the plentiful sounds being pushed out of you your body has to ground itself in the midst of all the pleasure.
The loneliness your heart feels whenever he deprives you of his body heat for as much as a few seconds has tiny broken sobs and whines lurch out of your throat, but like every single time, Sunghoon is there to soothe you. "I know, baby, I know. Just let me help you feel good. Yeah?"
Even when you're supposedly being punished, he can't help but go a little easy on you, his gorgeous angel. His spoiled baby. But it's okay, because you did such a good job, listened and obeyed to his every command.
Sunghoon's warm breath tickles the skin of your bottom, and his nose brushes up from your mid thigh to your ass, giving you a playful yet gentle bite on the plushy skin. Air gets stuck in your throat in anticipation, but like every single thing he does, he takes his time in savoring all the moments leading up to finally get your sweet taste to coat his tongue like he's craved for this entire time.
You're twitchy and so responsive in his hold, and Sunghoon is enamored with the sight of your fluttering walls trying their best to suck his thick digits in even more. Greedy little cunt for a spoiled little girl. A perfect match.
He watches intently how you react to every single thrust of his fingers inside you, how your knees shake and body flops forward when he bends the tips in just the right direction when you least expect it. He pushes in deeper, and deeper, until you're gushing on his palm, your essence dripping down his wrist and a few droplets down to his elbow too. He registers your every moan, every beg for more, imprints all your sounds in his memory like they're the dearest ones he's ever made.
Sunghoon remembers all your reactions from times you'd consider unimportant, from the little moan when you first bite into anything he's cooked—whether you really like it not—to the way your leg bounces when following the rhythm of a song you said you despised because they played it on the radio too often, to the way your eyebrow twitches when he mentions a name you haven't heard before.
When you catch him with that sweet look in his eyes, staring at you with a toothy grin and canines peeking out, it's because he's watching you and storing everything in his mind, no matter how mundane, no matter how dumb, no matter how silly. It's a no brainer he'd do this in times like these too, even when he's witnessed you come undone under his gaze plenty of times, he doesn't want to miss a single one.
It's not really about learning what brings you pleasure faster and what prolongs it, he's familiar with all of that already, Sunghoon just happens to really enjoy watching you, even if you think it's the most embarrassing thing in the world.
So he does exactly that, inspects you carefully as he keeps fucking you open with his fingers, taking guesses about how hard or deep he should make his pumps, pride blooming in his chest—and cock throbbing in his pants—when you react exactly like he expects. While usually he watches you with a lovesick smile, the grin on his face and fiery glint behind his eyes are different now, hungrier and needier, but every bit as obsessed.
Because that's exactly what Sunghoon is, deeply and unashamedly obsessed with you.
He builds your orgasm up again, brick by brick, flick of his wrist by flick of his wrist, until you're quivering and shaking and begging him to not take it away this time.
"Please," you moan, hand clenching onto the bedsheets beside you so hard you'll be shocked if by the end there won't be a hole ripped in them. "I'm so close."
Sunghoon notices how you hold onto your orgasm, waiting for his approval. It makes his hips twitch forward involuntary, eager to please and eager to give you anything you want. "I got you baby, let go. Let me hear the pretty sounds you make when you cum for me."
It's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to completely snap, and the second your warm walls flutter around Sunghoon's fingers for the first time, you feel a sense of emptiness that lasts only a moment, before you're full again. It's not as thick, shorter but so much wetter, and through the thick fog clouding your mind as your body is overtaken by uncontrollable shivers spreading from your core to every extremity of your body, you realize he just replaced his fingers with his tongue.
Another lightning strike shoots right through you, head to feet, as Sunghoon keeps fucking you through your orgasm with his tongue. You're still fluttering around it and releasing all of your juices right into his awaiting mouth when the ringing in your ears slowly fades, replaced by the downright obscene sounds of Sunghoon slurping up all he can get out of you. It's messy and nasty, the lower half of his face completely coated in your essence but he doesn't care. He wants more.
He moans into your pussy like he's the one being pleasured, and once that single second of bliss between fully coming down from an orgasm and overstimulation setting in goes by, he pulls you in closer when you start moving too much. You're still too sensitive, but if Sunghoon thinks you're greedy, you have to realize he's even worse. Feeling the dull throbbing of your walls as you come around his tongue one time just isn't enough. If it were up to him, he'd have you wet his mouth again and again until you physically can't withstand any more. Until you're barely coherent and slipping into a peaceful sleep, completely tired out.
Sunghoon grabs a handful of your ass with his still dripping hand as he licks a stripe down from your hole into your lips, spreading them open with his tongue to find your clit, throbbing and raw from your previous orgasm. He rolls it between his lips, toys with it with his tongue, uncaring for the way your body pushes away from his mouth. After all the begging you did, you have no business running from it, if you ask him.
"Stay still," he growls into you, both of his hands tied together on your lower back as he fully pushes you down on the mattress with his strength, leaving you nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He nuzzles his face into you, enveloping all he can get with his warm mouth, sighing and groaning contently with every bit of wetness you gush right on his tongue.
He explores every inch of you, every nook and cranny he can get into, cleaning you up with each lick and wetting you even more with every other. "So fucking good," he moans into you, dragging you back against him when you think you can't physically be closer, when the tip of his nose pushes into your hole and when the only way he has to breathe is through his mouth which is full of you. He pants and gasps against your cunt so much you fear he might suffocate himself just to not come up for air a single time.
Your own face is pushed against the bed, mouth biting down on the cotton fabric beneath you to ground yourself in the immense cloud of pleasure Sunghoon is giving you. He's so lost in your taste he doesn't even remind you to not muffle your sounds, the only thing in his mind is to have you come undone on his mouth once more.
Sunghoon knows he's close to his goal when your little pained whines start turning into longer, more drawn out moans, when you stop running away from his tongue and instead start thrusting yourself back into his hold, back into his mouth. All your senses are ablaze, nerve endings lit and confused but so pleased at the same time. You yourself don't know when the it stopped hurting and became that dull, impending feeling of almost there to something more that both maddens you and keeps you hooked, but you roll your hips anyway in search of just the little nudge in the right direction your body violently craves.
Like always, Sunghoon knows exactly what you need.
"Go on, baby. Touch your little clit for me." His voice is full and rich of that low gravel you barely get to hear, but that has tingles run down your body when you do. "Help me make you cum." Sunghoon lets his tongue run back up from your clit to your slit again, inching closer to your throbbing hole as you let a hand sneak under your body to your pussy, immediately finding your sensitive bundle of nerves.
You're so drenched by now you don't need to wet your hand before drawing circles all over it, dragging it in all the directions you know have your toes curl. Sunghoon likes it messy though, so he gathers a glob of spit and loudly releases it on your cunt, the position making it dribble down right where your hand is working to bring you closer to your peak.
The onslaught of wetness pooling down only adds to the already embarrassingly loud noises coming from your cunt, and you're so wet, your own fingers slip a few times. It doesn't help that your arm shakes under you even when pinned down by your entire body weight when Sunghoon shoves his entire tongue down your hole again, using both of his hands on your lower back to move you so you're fucking his muscle as if it were a toy. His nose drags on your perineum with every movement of your bottom half against his face, and under any other circumstance you'd be mortified, but Sunghoon has a way of soothing you in the most embarrassing situations without really having to do anything but be there with you, like nothing matters in the grand scheme of things when his body is heating yours.
You speed your movements up to match the pace he sets, and with every thrust of his tongue combined with every flick of your wrist, you feel the band in your lower tummy stretch and warm up, until your sight turns searing white and warmth envelops your body from your core to all your limbs in rhythmic waves, first every other second, and then gradually slowing down.
You release on Sunghoon's tongue, and he wastes no time, gulping down all he can manage to, moaning into your heat like he's tasting the most divine nectar. You can't see it as you're busy catching your breath and slowing down your heartbeat as the rush of pleasure dissipates into a calmer buzzing felt all over your body, but Sunghoon's eyebrows crease in the middle, his eyes closed as he commits the taste of your cum to his memory, right beside all the indecent bits of you he treasures in his mind.
Sunghoon pulls his tongue out of you, already missing the way you flutter against it when you come undone, and leaves a trail of pecks all over your bottom, first on the plush of your ass still kept up by his strong hold despite you having completely given up on keeping yourself upright long ago, then all over your thighs, switching from one to the other as he runs a reassuring hand all over your skin, wordlessly soothing you. His palms are big and thick on your thighs as he moves to wrap his hands to the front, steadying you one last time to capture your clit in a gentle suckle, just enough to have your body convulse in overstimulation, but too tired and spent to fight back.
He pulls off of you with a pop after hollowing his cheeks around it one last time. "Did so good for me, baby. You're so perfect."
Without Sunghoon's hands keeping you up, you slump on the bed, completely this time, groaning when the burn in your lower body fully sets in now that you can move it again. It's dull and persistent, and especially fiery right where Sunghoon's hands stayed locked for most of it.
"You okay, pretty? Was I too rough?" He sounds concerned when you take longer than usual to regain your strength, his hands immediately roaming all over your body to massage any sore spot. His touch is light like a breeze but welcome like the sun on a spring day, warming up all the knots in your muscles. The dangerous edge seems to have completely evaporated, only leaving your sweet boyfriend behind. In the moment, it's exactly what you need.
You give him a vague sound of approval in response, but you know it's not enough for him when he gently maneuvers your body around to face him, holding you so carefully one would think him scared of damaging you.
The warm light shining from the night stand casts shadows on his face, but the slight concern etched on his features is bright as day. It's an intimate moment, and you'd giggle because of the sheer difference in his behavior if you had the energy to do so. Instead, you reach for his hand. The same hand that held a bruising grip on you just moments before, the same hand that hit the man who disrespected you.
Sunghoon returns you touch right away, locking your fingers with his as if second nature. You place a featherlight kiss on them, allowing your lips to linger on his salty skin as you speak. "I'm great. Perfect even." It comes out a little raspy, like you haven't fully caught your breath yet, but it's a start.
"Yeah. You are."
"And you? You doing okay?"
Sunghoon gifts you one of his cannot-possibly-contain-it smiles, the ones where he looks down for a split second as his eyes crinkle and somehow smile wider than his lips do. Your favorite kind of Sunghoon Smiles you'd say in the moment, though if you were to compile a list they would all be in the number one spot.
"Perfect, even."
"Hey, that's my line—" you start, but Sunghoon finishes your sentence for you.
"—Don't steal it."
You hum, the taste of skin still on your lips as you bask in the moment for a little, neither of you daring to break the peaceful quiet that wraps like a fuzzy blanket around you. Sunghoon flinches just the tiniest bit when your fingers graze the bandaged scratches, making you ease up your hold on his hand. He immediately squeezes yours to tell you it's okay.
"You know," you say after you let the silence linger for a few more seconds, only your heartbeats and shallow breaths filling the air in the dimly lit room. "You look really hot when you're mad."
Fits of giggles pour in the almost nonexistent space between you—first Sunghoon's, yours following suit.
"I must look super hot when I'm jealous then," he says with that teasing edge in his tone you're all too familiar with. He dips down to catch your lips in a slow kiss, suckling on your bottom lip gently, the corners of his mouth still raised. He hasn't stopped smiling once.
"Absolutely," you say before Sunghoon pecks you again, and then keeps doing it as you try to continue. "And when you're happy—" another peck. "And when you're bored." Another peck. "And when you're—sorry if I say this but you look like a cute kicked puppy—sad.
"So you're gonna keep finding ways to make me jealous, I assume."
It's not meant to be a jab, you know he's being playful. But it stings you just in the right way, and suddenly you're in the passenger seat of Sunghoon's black Bentley again, worrying about having hurt his feelings past redemption.
Like all things you, Sunghoon catches it right away.
"Hey there, it's okay. I'm not upset, baby." Sunghoon's hands are secure around your hips, his thumb running soothing circles on your skin while your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer because it's simply never enough.
"You should be. You're too nice."
Sunghoon presses his lips on your fluttering lashes. "You being a little brat is nothing new. I think I know how to handle you pretty well, don't I?" His breath, minty but also vaguely bitter from the beer still, warms your cheekbone. Sunghoon's proximity to you is intoxicating in ways no amount of alcohol could ever be, and you hate beer, but god, what wouldn't you do to taste it off of his lips for the rest of your life.
Whoever is up there must be gracious because your prayers are answered the very next second, with Sunghoon ghosting his lips on yours, looking at you with tenfold the intensity and fire from earlier, like someone drenched the space behind his eyes with gasoline and lit it up without you noticing it. The switch is so sudden, and by now you should be used to this, but you don't think you ever will. Not when your boyfriend is looking at you like he might devour you whole any moment, and you'd let him. You'd love to let him.
"Act out all you want," Sunghoon says, voice dripping in possessiveness, right against your awaiting mouth. You want to swallow every last bit of it. "Go out there in short little skirts barely covering your ass. Make up all the silly plans you want, even ones where Jay's involved. Let everyone get a good look at you because that's all they'll ever fucking get." His hand reaches for your inner thigh, then folds it to give himself better access. His bulge is heavy and hard against your bare core, the weight of it enough to have you shiver and mewl, but when Sunghoon starts grinding his hips into yours, the noises spill out of you like you have no control over them. "At the end of the night, after you've had your fun, you'll always come back to me. In my bed, soaking my pants with your little pussy because you only get wet like this for me."
It's embarrassing how fast you feel like you could come again, but Sunghoon's hard thickness slides so perfectly over your folds even through the fabric, and the harshness of his jeans catches your clit every so often in such a delicious way. His pants are soaked through in your essence, both of you moaning and panting in each other's mouths so messily you don't even know if it could be classifies as a kiss or a mere exchange of spit.
"You're mine," Sunghoon rasps, like his life depends on it. He fumbles with his pants, depriving you of the mouth watering friction. You make a few noises of complaints, but his teeth are quick to sink into your bottom lip to silence them. "A spoiled little brat. But mine."
The heaviness of him finds your dripping core again, this time so much warmer, only his underwear separating your most sensitive parts from touching. It's the closest you've ever been to feeling his cock on you, and it's overwhelming. Electricity shocks run through your body when he starts moving his pelvis against you, completely coating the already damp material with the mix of your arousal and release. He's not unaffected—his own precum shows up right where the little slit in his tip is, the fabric of the boxers a darker shade of gray there.
"Mine to love, mine to discipline, mine to train. Mine." You don't know wether the hoarseness coming from his throat is due to the anything but proper activity you two are partaking in or simply the raw need for you to really let his words sink in, but the effect it has on you is clear. The proof is right where your cores meet.
You tentatively roll your hips into his, movements emboldening when you earn a few low grunts from him.
"This pussy is gonna be mine too now. Mine to worship and please. Mine to fuck open like she never has been before. I'm gonna ruin you for everyone else. You want that, right?"
You nod frantically, your hips running after Sunghoon's in a relentless chase, like they have a mind of their own.
"Say it. Say you want me to ruin your little hole."
"Ruin it—Hoon, please."
His hips falter when he hears just how desperate you sound, his eyebrows scrunched up in the middle and you can tell he's biting down on his tongue to ground himself. It only encourages you.
You reach for his boxers, wrapping your hand around the outline of his bulge and trying to contain your facial expressions at the reminder of just how ridiculously large he is. You squeeze it with your palm, his eyelids fluttering closed and his chest heaving from your touch alone. You try not to think too much about how outrageously wet the fabric is, all thanks to you. "Please, I need to feel you inside," you beg, arms pushing your tits—now basically spilling out of your dress—together and looking up at him with the most innocent doe eyed expression you can muster up.
Sunghoon's jaw leaps, and you feel like under a microscope as he watches you. "Little minx you are." He reaches for the first drawer of his night stand, rummaging though it quickly before pulling a tiny bottle out of it. It's lube.
"I don't need—"
Sunghoon silences you by spitting right on your pussy, your complaint turning into a whimper at the contact. "You do, baby. You need all the help you can get." Complaining more will get you nowhere but tucked into bed, still needy, horny and with a wet pussy, so you decide to play your cards cleverly and let him do his thing.
You paw at his boxers, fingers dipping into the waistband and trying to tug them down to get to the prize hidden behind. You spread your legs open even more as Sunghoon rips a larger hole into your tights, the veins running down his arms slightly bulging from the effort.
The sudden coldness of the lube dripping down on your puffy folds surprises you enough to rip a little yelp out of you, and Sunghoon's wide palms find their rightful place on your thighs, pushing them against your hips and lower stomach. He takes a good look at your cunt, spreading you open to his liking and leaving no inch of your skin hidden from his sight. "Such a pretty pussy." Your joints still ache and burn from all the exertion they already endured, but Sunghoon's words are like a soothing balm for your body and mind. "Prettiest cunt in the whole fucking world, all wet and ready for me to fuck."
You finally manage to free his cock fully, despite his filthy words sending waves of weakness through your body, and immediately wrap your palm around the middle, mouth watering when your thumb doesn't reach your other fingers. Not only is it way longer than average, it's also thick beyond comprehension, perfectly curved to hit all the right spots in you and so fucking veiny you can feel more slick pour out of you in anticipation. You quite literally cannot stop gawking at it, trying to move your hand up to his tip, just as thick if not thicker than the base, and you gulp as you watch beads of semi transparent liquid pour out of it.
"What is it, baby?" Sunghoon asks, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to not buck his hips into your hand. "We can stop if you want."
"No!" Your grip around him tightens, earning a gasp and a shallow thrust from him. Your thumb swipes over the head to spread his need all over, making it easier for you to slowly jerk him off. "Please," you add, quieter, afraid he might take the opportunity away from you.
The sight of you laying down so prettily with your much smaller hand enveloping his length, has all the blood in Sunghoon's body rush straight to his groin. He could cum at any moment, just from having you right in front of him like this, but he's set on making it worth the wait.
"You're so fucking hot like this." His hand finds your cunt again, fingers spreading your folds open so he can take a good look at the sensitive bud he loves so much, finding it so swollen he wishes to just bend down and suck on it again.
Once the lube fully coats his digits, he brings them down to your hole again, prodding it just enough to make sure it's slick with the cold essence. He squirts more of it right onto his cock while you keep fisting him as best as you can, spreading the lube all over it until all that can be heard in the room is the loud squelching noises and both of your heavy pants and low groans. His fingers keep rubbing your folds, coaxing more of your own arousal out of you, the feeling so distracting the pace you set on his cock falters a bit. To compensate, you add your other hand too, milking him with both at the same time.
"Fuck yeah, just like that," Sunghoon moans, and he looks divine above you with his lip caught between his teeth, gaze flickering from where his hips have started fucking into your fists, to where his fingers are playing with your pussy, like he cannot decide which view is best.
His cock throbs in your hands every time your hold tightens or your movements get faster, and you're stuck watching every reaction. His chest heaves, sometimes he looks like he forgets to breathe and then he has to make up for it. His cheeks are flushed, and when you notice how his bangs are sticking to his forehead because of the sweat accumulating on his hairline, you suspect he might be close.
"Gonna come?" you ask, battling your lashes at him, hoping he'll do just that from your hands alone. That's enough to wake him from his daze, and you almost regret asking when he breaks free from your hold and stops playing with your pussy.
The disappointment is short lived, because without wasting any time, Sunghoon brings your legs close together around his cock and sets both of your feet on one of his shoulders. He fucks your thighs just like that, with slow thrusts, making sure to slide his cock between your folds and let you feel every single vein running down his length. "You'd love that wouldn't you? Me coming all over your pussy. You're so fucking messy."
The shirt still covering his torso leaves close to nothing to the imagination now, clinging to every ridge of his abs and chest because of the sweat, and you're basically drooling at the sight. The feeling of Sunghoon's cock between your thighs and on your cunt is too much for you already, clit throbbing with need every time his tip catches on it, balls pushing against your hole every now and then, but you make the mistake of looking down when his thrusts get faster, and the view you're met with has you absolutely obsessed.
The head of Sunghoon's cock peeks out from your thighs every time his hips move forward, red and leaking so fucking much on your lower tummy it looks like he's cumming all over you already. But then it just keeps going, reaching close to your belly button, and when his head rests right on it, your mouth goes slack. It's one thing to see how big he is normally, but to have it compared directly against you, it makes the room spin in circles and your body feel even weaker. You need him inside you now.
"You like the view, baby? That's how deep I'm gonna be inside you, how deep I'll be fucking you," Sunghoon laughs, a little manically, and you hate how much it turns you on, like you need to be any more than you already are. "You'll feel me riiight here." He stops his thrusts to tap his cock on your stomach, the sounds of the tiny slaps reverberating through the room. "All up in your guts."
You gasp out his name when his hips go back to working his cock between your thighs, in an attempt to get his attention, but he already knows what you want.
"I know, baby. I know. Just a little more I promise." His gaze flicks up to meet yours, watching you intently for any sign of discomfort, any indication that you might want to stop. He knows it's unlikely—Hell, he's sure you were about to beg him to fuck you for the nth time that night just now—but he needs you to be absolutely sure. The weight on his chest, the slightest hint of uneasiness looming over him despite all the excitement fades in the background when all he finds on your face is pure lust, unfiltered need for him.
The pace slows down a little, and Sunghoon keeps eye contact with you as he speaks with his full lips brushing the skin of your ankle, giving you a few kisses there to ease up any anxiety you might feel. "Are you sure, pretty? We can wait a bit more. We don't have to—"
"Hoon. For the love of God just put it in or i might actually die within the next two minutes."
An amused wheeze tickles your skin, followed by a gentle nibble right where his lips kissed you. He rests your legs back down while he still kneels on the bed "Alright, alright."
He's spent all this time preparing you, telling you to take it slow for your own well being, but as you watch the way his eyes hesitantly shift focus around your body, you think maybe he's not the one ready yet. "Hoon?" you catch his attention, voice meek but it's like music to his ears, always.
Sunghoon hums in acknowledgement, but he looks deep in thought. His thumb follows the ridge of your jaw to your chin, then swipes over it a few times as if to encourage you to continue.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Had a change of heart? Weren't you just about to die a few seconds ago?"
"I'm asking you."
He exhales, then bends down to place a soft kiss right on your parted lips. "Of course I'm sure. I'm just…" He trails off, but you already know what he's thinking.
"You won't hurt me," you say, keeping eye contact to really get the point across. "Besides, even if you did. I'd enjoy it a bit."
The corner of his lips lift up, and you know you've finally cracked through him. "I suppose you would."
His elbow rests by your head, while his other hand grabs his cock and gives it a few pumps in preparation—not that he needs it, Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever been this goddamn hard in his entire life. "Give me a few taps anywhere if you want me to stop, if it helps you can bite me when it hurts." He positions himself, hand still guiding his tip to your leaking entrance, but doesn't push in just yet. "Where should I cum?"
You're about to lose your mind, hips slowly rolling against his tip to try to coax it inside of you and he's still talking instead of doing something about it. "Huh?"
"Where do you want my cum baby? You won't be able to talk when I'm fucking you."
The sheer seriousness in his tone has shivers run down your spine, but you don't dwell on it too long. "Inside. Anywhere you want just please—Oh my god."
The sting of his tip slowly pushing in stops you from finishing your sentence. It's a mild discomfort for now, but the feeling of it stretching you open is better than any of the toys you and Sunghoon experimented with could've ever provided. He's just getting started, but your mouth is already ajar, and more wetness seeps out of you when your boyfriend rewards you with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard.
"God, it's like she's begging me to slam all the way in." His thumb swipes over your clit in circular motions to help you ease up so the first few inches aren't too harsh on your poor drooling pussy, and even though the tip isn't even the entire way in, the sight of his cock slowly disappearing inside your heat quickly shoots up to his favorite spot. "Deep breaths baby, remember what I taught you—No, don't tense up, it's okay. You've got this."
Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head, pleasure and discomfort blending into one slowly as he waits for you to adjust. How are you supposed to not clench around him when he's encouraging you like this? It's beyond you.
Your hand shoots to grab Sunghoon's muscular biceps when he starts moving again, and he stills right away, waiting with bated breath for the taps to come.
They don't.
"Is it all in yet?" you ask, because truly, you feel so fucking full already, fuller than you have ever been. But the amused look on Sunghoon's face tells you exactly what you need to know.
"I mean." He moves a little more, and the burning—even if eased up a bit by all the juices and lube coating both of you—resumes. "A little more than the tip is."
"The tip?"
"The tip." Sunghoon thrusts out gently before pushing in again, both of you moaning at the same time. "I can fuck you with just that, it's enough to make you come harder than you ever have." He doesn't wait for you to tell him what to do, opting to give you shallow thrusts to test the waters, his thumb never parting from your clit.
The way you shudder and the little sweet sounds you make because of his tip alone has his stomach knot in all kinds of ways and his cock leap and throb so much it fucking hurts. Sunghoon would want nothing more than to shove it in and claim you fully, mold your pussy around his girth so perfectly no one else would ever be able to give you a cock half as good as his—like he would let that happen in the first place.
You're writhing under him, legs kicking a little when he feels the slide in and out slowly get more comfortable and slippier. That doesn't mean you're not clenching around him so hard he could cum at any given moment, but for your own pleasure—and his, really. He wants to shoot his load as deep as he possibly can—he tries to hold off to the best of his capabilities.
But fuck if it's not the hardest thing he's ever tried to do.
He almost breaks when your own hand reaches down for the one working on your pussy, smaller palm attempting to cover the back of his and to coax it into moving faster. There's a bit of drool on the corner of your lips, and you look so wrecked already, Sunghoon hates how a shiver runs down his spine at the mere thought of how you'll look like when he's balls deep inside you. "Hoon—fuck. I want more."
He coos at you, pretending he's not a wreck himself, pretending the thread thin sliver of sanity he has left isn't the only thing preventing him to fold your legs all the way up to your chest and fuck you into oblivion, but the arm next to your head shakes with restraint, and the knuckles on his fist are ghostly white by now, even if you're too blissed out to pay attention. His voice is shaky, uneven, but his words are careful and patient, even when you'd rather them not be. "We gotta get your pretty parts used to it first baby, come like this just once, it's only the last stretch."
Your whines turn into moans when his movements on your clit fasten and his tip nudges inside you a little deeper, just enough to momentarily satisfy your craving for more.
"Aren't you a greedy little thing," Sunghoon rasps, holding back his own impending orgasm with all his strength, beads of sweat now rolling down his neck deliciously, and you kinda wish you could bend forward and lick them off of him. "Asking for more, and more, and more after the stunt you pulled today. My pretty baby," his thumb pushes more forcefully on your bud, making it hurt so good for a second as you adjust to the pressure, then giving you harsher drags, meant to have you come undone and quivering under him in no time. "So desperate for cock you just had to go ahead and try to make me jealous. You like it when I'm jealous?"
You gasp, nodding frantically as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach tighten more and more, an embarrassing amount of slick pouring out of you and running downwards.
"You're so fucking lucky this is the first time we do this," his voice is rough, an octave lower than usual. "Or I would've bent you over and fucked you so silly the second we got home without stretching your pretty pussy open. But I'm so kind. Thank me for it."
You clench hard around him at his words, toes bending because you don't know what else to do with all the pleasure coursing through you, and he gives a gorgeous deep groan in response. "I'm gonna—"
"Then thank me for it."
You come around him hard, harder than you ever have, thank you's pouring out of your lips like a broken prayer, entire body shaking head to toe from the intense orgasm. The buzz in your ears persists for a while as you try to come down from it, and you can see but it feels like you can't, like your brain isn't registering any of the images your eyes capture. Bright, static, dark spots, so many things at once. It feels like you blacked out for a second even if you didn't, all your senses dulled to make space for all the other sensations your climax provides.
When you slowly start to regain power over them, you're met with the sight of Sunghoon panting like a dog, eyes closed and fist wrapped around his cock, the head poking out and redder than you've ever seen it, looking like he just ran a fucking marathon. Somehow, he managed not to cum. He was so close though, so close he had to pull out the second your walls started to involuntary flutter around him or he would've been done for.
The tight black shirt is still clinging to him like a second skin, and the first coherent thought of yours after the fog around brain clears is to get him out of it as soon as you can. You tug at the hem, still panting and blood buzzing from the release. "Off."
Sunghoon doesn't answer you with words, but he rips the shirt off his torso, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hands are shaky as they travel from your waist to your hips, then reaching your thighs, spreading you open further in front of him and allowing him to take a look at the big mess you—both of you, really—made. Sunghoon's cock is rock hard, tip oozing enough precum to make all the prep you've endured so far pointless. (Not really, you know better than that.)
Sunghoon goes back to nudging his tip on your hole, just holding it there without pushing in quite yet, casting a last questioning glance your way because he needs the reassurance that you're okay with this one last time before he fully commits.
When you nod, he slowly eases himself back into you with a low moan accompanying the motion, this time his gaze holding yours. The face you make as his tip stretches you open makes it a hundred times harder for him to keep his chill, wanting nothing more than to say fuck it and pound you stupid like you've been begging him to do ever since things first got handsy between you two.
The burn isn't nearly as bad as it was the first time, leaving space for so much more pleasure to course right through you, and you can't help the relieved sigh that leaves you when his tip is fully back inside you again, like it's a need for you to be filled by it. And Sunghoon sees that. He sees the fire in your eyes, the greediness slowly pooling behind those pupils he loves so much, how your hips look for his even if taking any more in hurts.
His hips jerk forward more than he intends them to, but he can't help it, not when you're looking at him like he's the prey. More of your wetness coats him, and both of you loudly moan into the night.
"You feel so fucking good, baby," Sunghoon whines, actual tears filling his waterline because he can't believe how much you're gripping him, pussy fluttering around his girth with every little bit he pushes forward, welcoming him like no one has ever done. "Tightest little pussy ever."
The hold on your thighs is bruising, but it helps you stay at least a little grounded so you wouldn't have it any other way. Whenever you think you're too full and cannot possibly take anymore, you feel a little more of Sunghoon's cock slide in you, so you get on your elbows with what little strength you have left and take a look for yourself. He's barely halfway in, and the burning sensation is starting to set in again. It hurts, but it hurts so good, you need more and you need less at the same time.
"Yeah, that's right, angel. Watch how your greedy needy cunt swallows me." Sunghoon's eyebrows are creased, sweat now not only dripping from his scalp, but little droplets constellating his broad chest, following the paths preset by his sculpted physique, all the way down to his vline. A mouthwatering sight.
"So full," you sigh, eyes never leaving from where you're connected, clit throbbing the more he fucks his cock into you, begging for a lick of attention.
"You'll be so much fuller. Can you behave and handle that for me, mhh?"
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding along to his words and sneaking down your hand to play with your clit when you come to the conclusion that Sunghoon's hands are way too busy gripping your plushy skin like his sanity depends on it.
"Smart girl," he praises.
The wetter you become, the easier and more pleasurable the slide is. Sunghoon watches you for any sign of unbearable discomfort, slowing down when you bite your tongue or picking his speed back up when you bless him with those precious needy whines of yours. "You're doing so well, my gorgeous girl. So fucking amazing, making me feel so good already, God, you're perfect."
His words of encouragement play a big part in easing the pain for you, soothing you enough to make it easier for you to not tense up when his cock nudges a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Your hand flies to your lower belly and you swear you feel him right there, so much deeper than you've ever had anyone—or anything—be.
"There we go," Sunghoon puffs out like he's been holding himself back from breathing this entire time, his pelvis grinding against your folds deliberately. And you finally realize he's all the way in for the first time ever. "Squeezin' me so tight, are you scared I'll run away?" He pulls back a bit before fully thrusting inside again, the curve of his cock aiding in making him hit all the right spots you could've never reached yourself. "No fucking chance. Not after I've got a taste of this. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy open every fucking night, until I've trained her to take me in without any complaints."
He sets a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet, then adds, in a softer tone, "Does it hurt too bad, baby?"
If he keeps the back and forth up for much longer, you're gonna end up getting whiplash. But between groans and higher pitches sounds, you manage to answer him. "Any more and you would've popped me like a balloon."
Sunghoon giggles as he bends down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, hands finally loosening his grip on your legs and traveling all over your body. "You begged, and begged and—"
"I'm not complaining, am I?" you ask, breaking the kiss and resting your forehead on his, the saliva string connecting you two shining under the warm light of the lamp. "Harder."
Sunghoon complies instantly, speeding up his movements and giving you actual thrusts instead of the messy mix of grinding and nudges he'd taken a liking to. His hot, wet mouth finds your neck, too greedy and selfish, in desperate need of hearing the beautiful sounds you make instead of swallowing them down. His tongue skates over your pulse point, a shiver traveling down your entire body when he gives you the lightest nibble right there before licking it up again in apology.
"I can still taste you in my mouth." His breath tickles the wet skin of your neck, your front arching into his when goosebumps appear all over your exposed arms. "Always want to—mh, taste it. You'll let me eat your pretty pussy again after you gush on my cock?"
Even if you want to reply, you really can't, not when the pace he's drilling into you at is knocking the air out of your lungs, and the bolder his movements get, the more you understand why he asked where he should cum before even staring. You want to look at him, take in every expression on his beautiful face, but the pleasure is too much to handle and the only thing that seems to help is closing your eyes and letting them roll back into your skull.
Your lips are raw from all the biting, and you're so incredibly thankful when Sunghoon's hand swats yours away from your clit to replace it, allowing you to sink your fingers into his broad shoulders, clawing at them with every languid thrust he gives you. He feels so perfect, filling you up to the brim and then some more, stretching you out so fucking good you suspect you won't ever be able to scratch the itch if not with his cock.
"I'm in love with this fucking pussy, baby," he moans, loud and unapologetic, making his way with open mouthed kisses down your neck, then following the line of your clavicle, only to dip down between the valley of your breasts. Your tits have spilled out of the tiny little dress due to bouncing around with every precise thrust Sunghoon gave you, and your nipples are perky and hard, begging for his attention right in his face.
"And your tits, fuck. So pretty, I'm gonna eat you right up." He licks a stripe on one of your hardened buds before enveloping it fully between his lips and sucking on it lightly, sighing contently into it when you push your tits on his face further, loud whines spilling out of you.
The very familiar band in your tummy starts to tighten again the more he works on your nipples and clit at the same time, thrusts never once faltering. All of your senses are heightened to such a degree you don't even know what to do with yourself anymore if not lay under Sunghoon and let him absolutely ravage you, not a single thought but 'feels so good' crossing your mind. But it's fast, too fast, and you want it to last for longer, want Sunghoon to keep fucking you for hours until the only word you remember is his name.
You try to push his hand away from your clit, only earning a reprimanding yet gentle bite on your nipple, a warning. "I c-can't."
"Can't what, pretty girl?" He rolls your nipple between his lips, lapping away the tingling sensation the nibble left on it that has you jolt in his hold. "Use your words."
You throw your head back in frustration, feeling the impending climax approach you once again, the nth that night. "Don't want it to end," you gasp, using up all the strength left in you form a coherent sentence.
Sunghoon coos at you. Fucking coos at you only to deepen the strokes of his cock inside you, angling his hips to reach even deeper. "Cum for me baby, I'll just keep fucking you."
Your thighs shake as they wrap around his waist to pull him closer, his hips switching to grinding his cock into you instead of thrusting it, the fat tip poking the most delicious sensitive parts of your heat. You gasp and wheeze, claw and scratch and draw blood from his skin but it never hinders or stops his strokes. You clench around him time and time again, wrapping around his cock so nicely Sunghoon can feel his own orgasm build up in the pit of his stomach.
You come around him with a silent scream, every single part of your body twitching under him as he keeps fucking into you, now chasing his own high. He still takes a moment to watch you and how beautiful you look at the highest of your peak, eyes glazed over and mouth hung open, sweaty skin glistening so beautifully he wishes to be a painter and capture it forever. It's a sight he's never gonna grow accustomed to, and it has his stomach twist in knots. "That's it baby, so fucking gorgeous, keep cumming for me like that, milking my cock so well."
Even in the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body looks for his, hips rolling into his as if to silently ask for him to cum inside you, now that your voice has completely failed you.
"Just a bit more. We're almost there, my perfect little baby, so good for me," Sunghoon is babbling too by now, so damn enamored with the sight of you trying to keep your twitching under control even though you're still cumming around him and teetering on overstimulation so he can fully savor his own high. "The most perfect angel girl ever. I love you so fucking much."
Your head is light and Sunghoon's words reach you as if in slow motion, muffled by your own blood buzzing in your ears. You're completely drenched, and the bedding underneath you is too, but neither of you can bring yourselves to care. The slide is not painful anymore, and everything feels so warm and slippery, you never want it to end.
The image of Sunghoon still grinding and fucking his cock into you, his pace now reduced to a desperate mess and nowhere near as precise as it was, clears up slowly as your ears stop ringing, but your pleasure never does. You don't know if you're still cumming or if Sunghoon fucking you just feels this good you can't tell the difference, but you feel like you're on cloud nine and lighter than you've ever been.
Sunghoon's torso is completely glistening, and you feel some of that slick coat your skin too when he bends your legs into you, folding you against the bed and hitting even deeper inside you.
You're a moaning mess as he pistons his dick inside your heat, dragging perfectly against your gummy walls. You look down and see a bulge poke your lower tummy with each deep stroke of his. The sight alone is enough to have you on the edge again, but it feels different this time, like you cannot possibly contain what's about to happen.
"Hoon—"
"Shh," he silences you, hair a sweaty mess and dripping all over your figure. The squelching sounds of his skin slapping against yours, connected by white strips of slick on both of your thighs get even louder when his pace gets faster, the hand that played with your clit suddenly pushing down on the bulging of your stomach. "Give it all to me, soak my fucking dick—fuck, I'm gonna cum baby, gonna cum so deep inside you."
You cannot stop the dam from breaking, juices shooting out of you so suddenly you're taken aback too, coating his entire lower abdomen in it. Your cunt throbs around him so hard, almost like it's trying to push his cock out of you. You can't think of anything, cannot fathom anything that's not Sunghoon, and his perfect cock, and how good you feel, going completely limp on the bed.
He moans louder than you at the sight of your wetness drenching the bed and his cock. "Fuck, take it all baby. I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm—"
His hips stutter one final time against you, burying his cock deep inside you and shooting his seed in multiple thick spurts as deep as he possibly can, filling you up perfectly. He dips down to catch your mouth in a messy kiss, panting into your mouth even as you two are still both trying to catch your breath from your orgasms, but your lips on his are all the oxygen he needs.
"I love you," you whisper into the kiss, your words finally having found the way out of your throat again.
Sunghoon hums, his body weakened and tired but still hovering above you instead of slumping on you. "I love you more." He gives you a sweet peck like he wasn't just putting you through the matters moments ago. "You were perfect, baby. Did so amazing." He lets his body go beside you on the bed, dragging you between his arms and grimacing when the wet mess you made on the covers touches the back of his body. "A rag won't be enough."
You smile, weak but content. "And who's fault is that?"
Sunghoon pretends to think about it, but from the look on his face you can tell the answer is ready on his tongue. "I think it might be yours for being too hot I couldn't help myself."
You swat your hand on his chest, but there's no force behind the gesture.
"Aaand for making me jealous."
A groan leaves your lips, your arms coming up to cover your face. "How am i gonna ever face Jay again after this."
Sunghoon's chest vibrates against your skin. "You'll think about that after I clean you up."
You make a low noise of complaint, rolling over to push yourself on top of your boyfriend's body, hands resting on his toned chest as you reach for his huge cock and slowly sink yourself onto it, head thrown back in pleasure even if it's not fully hard anymore. Sunghoon's breath catches in his throat as he watches you lower yourself against him again, your head finding refuge on his shoulder. "Later."
You stay like that for a while, breaths slowly synchronizing in the peaceful quiet, Sunghoon's cock comfortably nested in your heat while his fingers lazily ghost over the entire expanse of your back. You could fall asleep at any moment, but you raise your head one more time to look at your boyfriend, his half lidded eyes meeting yours instantly. "You did not strike me as the type of guy to edge himself that much."
"Just go to sleep."
BONUS
You roll over to tentatively search Sunghoon's bedside table, ignoring the sound of the lube bottle hitting the floor, until the cold screen of your phone meets your spread hand.
Sunghoon is snoring lightly behind you, his nose nuzzled against your nape, and you hope to not wake him up as you unlock your phone. You recoil when the light that feels like a million suns momentarily blinds you, but even that is not enough to discourage you from completing the life-or-death task ahead of you.
You open up messages—promptly ignoring Jay's "never do this shit again. you two are nasty."— and click on Jungwon's chat, not wasting time to watch the several unloaded video files sitting in it (you can easily recognize the blonde silhouette of Jake's hair in half of them, so you're free to assume it's nothing of particular importance anyway) to type a quick text.
05:34 AM. You: mission accomplished ;p (cancel the hiking thing we planned for next week unless you carry me yourself. your girl can't walk)
Shockingly enough, he replies within the minute.
05:35 AM. twin: you shameless being (a whole week is crazy)
05:37 AM. twin: whatever, but I'm dragging you out for brunch so you figure out your means of transportation yourself. we need to catch up
05:38 AM. You: crazy night for both of us i assume
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 💌 heavy making out, spit play, tongue play, teasing, edging, dildo/vibrator use, sunghoon's tied, light bondage, grinding, reader is not a dom, sunghoon is not a sub but he sure as hell act like one here... very whiny, needy, obsessed sunghoon!
𓆩♡𓆪 eeekk part two of !! a kiss is a sex !! >w< sunghoon is CRAZY here oml this might just be some of the filthiest non-penetration thing i've ever written lol. if you enjoy pls give it lots of love and feedbacks! tysm <3
“no.”
“please?”
“no.”
you rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the book in your hands as you snuggled deeper into the sofa. your boyfriend was kneeling on the carpet in front of you like a pathetic puppy—both of his hands gently holding your feet, thumbs pressing slow, soothing circles into your soles.
sunghoon had been massaging the for the past twenty minutes—which was so, so nice—but not his attempt to butter you up.
“please, baby,” he murmured. “just one kiss,” he whispered, voice soft and sweet as he leaned to place a kiss on your feet. “one tiny little kiss, baby. i’ve been good, haven’t i?”
you glanced at him, eyebrows pinched together. “you’ve been begging and i don’t appreciate that,” you replied, focusing back on your book to flip to the next page. “the whole point of this is to stop you from kissing all over me every two fucking seconds.”
yeah—that’s right.
you put sunghoon on a timeout.
it’s not hard really, and it could’ve easily been avoidable if he hadn’t acted like a complete child the other day.
you two had been at your family house. one minute you were just sitting together on the couch, watching a christmas movie on a summer night, and the next sunghoon had pulled you onto his lap and started kissing you like he’d been starved for days.
and when sunghoon kissed—he really, fucking kissed.
“my baby,” sunghoon murmured, cradling your face in his bigger hands, tilting your head exactly how he wanted while his lips moved slow and deep against yours. he kept sighing softly into your mouth, licking along your bottom lip before sucking on it gently.
letting out a soft moan, he took that opportunity to slide his tongue inside. it was messy. wet. the kind of kiss where he kept changing angles, chasing your mouth every time you tried to breathe, humming in satisfaction whenever your lips parted more for him.
it went on for a couple of minutes, until mixed drool hung from both of your lips and chins—until sunghoon’s hand started wandering underneath your shirt and he was about to take it off when—
your grandmother came down the stairs.
to be fair, the two of you were so lost in it that neither of you heard. and you probably shouldn’t be making out in the living room—but everyone was fast asleep!
she saw everything.
she saw sunghoon’s hand creeping underneath your shirt.
she saw your boyfriend was still greedily making out with you, lips swollen and glossy and his eyes were hazy and almost droopy. your shirt fell on one shoulder, and sunghoon’s shirt was wet with drool.
and it didn’t help that you were on his lap too.
your grandmother had cleared her throat loudly, and you wanted to die from embarrassment on the spot. she just chuckled and said something of—young love—before walking away like it was nothing.
the humiliation burned, and that became the final straw.
“but she didn’t even mind! she smiled—i saw her smile!”
you gave him a deadpan look, shaking your head. “i minded. it’s not your grandma—so you don’t know how that felt for me. she raised me for god’s sakes.”
he leaned forward, resting his cheek on your knee, now massaging your calf.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. then, sunghoon kissed your knee. “i just… i can’t help it. your lips were right there, and they looked so soft and…” he glanced at your mouth again.
gosh, that honey wax lip balm was really making your lips extra shiny and plump, huh? he thought, licking his own lips. he ought to get you more lip balms so you can wear them at home, from now on.
“please? just one kiss. i’ll be so quick—i swear!”
you sighed, smiling as you extended your arm to caress his cheek.
“sunghoon,” you hummed, thumb brushing the apple of his cheek. your boyfriend’s eyes widened slightly before he nodded eagerly, smile widening.
“get off me, and don’t piss me off.”
——
it truly gets to the point where he’s doing just about anything to get your forgiveness.
the next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. when you walked in, still half–asleep in his oversized tshirt, the sight that greeted you was almost comical.
sunghoon was shirtless, setting up the table with favourite fruits, iced coffee, meal, and there was even a small vase of flowers he clearly ran out to buy earlier.
“good morning, baby,” he said, rushing over to pull out your chair. “please have a seat… i made all your favorites."
you raised your eyebrows, taking a seat nonetheless. “... what are you doing?”
“repenting,” he answered, kneeling beside your chair and resting his chin on your thigh and looked up at you with those sparkling eyes. “i know that now—i embarrassed you in front of grandma.”
you hummed, clearly not buying it.
“right.”
that wasn’t all.
sunghoon was acting like you had sentenced him to life in prison.
throughout the next two days, his desperation only kept growing. what started as sweet gestures turned into sneaky little attacks. he’d kiss the top of your head when he walked past you sitting on the couch. he’d snuck behind you while you were washing dishes and planted soft kisses along the side of your neck before you swatted him away.
gosh—he was insufferable.
“sunghoon!” you scolded, turning around with a frown. “when i said no kissing, i meant anywhere! stop trying to find loopholes.”
he blinked at you innocently, lips still hovering near your shoulder with his hands resting on your hips. “but that wasn’t on your lips… it doesn’t count, right?”
“yes, it does,” you said sternly, holding him by his shoulders and pulling him away. “you’re being ridiculous. it’s only been—what?—two days. you’re not dying.”
“you don’t understand,” he whined, following you back to the couch like a puppy with his leash behind. when you sat down on the couch with your legs up, sunghoon gripped your thighs, kneeling between them. “it feels like i’m dying.”
you ignored him and picked the remote up, but he wasn’t done.
your boyfriend leaned in and pressed a kiss to your bare knee, then another higher up on your thigh. you immediately closed your legs, using your toes to push at his shoulder.
“no!”
he looked up at you with the most pitiful expression, eyes big and pleading.
“just this once,” he begged, voice soft and shaky. “please, baby. one real kiss—and after that you can put me on another timeout for a whole week. just let me kiss you properly right now. i’m going insane.”
you stared at him in disbelief. he couldn’t even survive two days, let alone two weeks? talk about nonsense.
“babe—it’s just kissing!” you exclaimed. “it’s not like you can’t talk to me, or touch me, or be near me. you’re acting like i’m torturing you when all i asked was for you to stop mauling my face every few minutes.”
“but kissing you is my favourite thing to do,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against your thigh. gosh, he’s such a fucking kid. “i really, really need it. i miss how soft they are… how they taste… i miss the little sound you make when i suck on your bottom lip—”
“sunghoon—”
he lifted his head again.
“yn, i’ll do anything.”
you stared at him for a long moment—this five–foot–evelen tall, composed and deemed cool man literally on his knees begging for a… kiss?
you let out a sigh.
“...okay. fine.”
sunghoon’s face lit up instantly with pure hope. a bright, relieved smile started to form.
“but we’re doing it my way,” you added quickly, cutting off his excitement. “one chance, park sunghoon. you follow my rules. if you pass, timeout ends tonight. if you fail… that’s four more days.”
he nodded frantically, his selective hearing stopped listening after the timeout ends tonight.
“yes, anything! i’ll do anything.”
——
what…?
sunghoon frowned as he’s left completely naked, lying on his back in the middle of the bed, wrists bounded tightly to the headboard with his own silk tie. his chest was already heaving, abs flexing under you as you sat comfortably on his stomach, wearing nothing but a thin pair of panties.
his cock was painfully hard, aching, and leaking against his lower stomach, twitching every few seconds with spurts of precum shooting out—but he couldn’t do anything about it. not with his bounded wrists—he couldn’t touch you. couldn’t pull you down. and most importantly—
he’s still not allowed to kiss you.
you reached over to the nightstand and picked up your favourite toy—a small vibrator—before turning it on. the low buzzing filled the room.
sunghoon frowned, his eyes darkened as he watched you slowly pulled your panties to the side, positioning the vibrating head right against your clit. his breath hitched—he thought he’d thrown it out—
“ngh,” a low, soft moan left your lips as you settled back down on his toned stomach, using him as your seat.
“baby…” he breathed out, voice already strained. his hips twitched uselessly beneath you. “this is just mean.”
the corner of your lips twitched into a smirk, looking down on him. “you said you’d do anything,” you reminded him sweetly, slowly rolling your hips as you pressed the toy harder against yourself. “so behave. if you can stay still and quiet until i cum—you win.”
his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes locked on your face, then your wet lips that you kept licking and biting, then the way your tits moved every time you grinded down on his abs.
you’re so fucking wet, it smeared across his stomach. the sight of him tied up and desperate underneath you was affecting you more than you expected…
sunghoon bit his lip harshly, eyes fluttering when he felt you wet folds rubbing back and forth on his stomach. his wrists pulled against the tie.
“fuck—you’re dripping on me,” he groaned, head falling back for a second before he forced himself to look at you again. his voice cracked. “don’t do this—shit,”
you clicked your tongue and pressed the toy harder against your clit, letting out a pretty moan that made his cock jump.
“you can always say you give up, and suffer four more days.”
sunghoon whined loudly, a broken, frustrated sound low from his stomach went straight to your core. his eyes were glassy, lips parted as he watched you with desperation.
“baby… fuck, please,” he rasped, voice strained. “at least let me touch you. or let me touch myself. shit—”
his cock twitched.
“no,” you cut him off, rolling the vibrator in slow, teasing circles over your swollen clit. “you don’t get to touch me anything. that’s the deal.”
a pitiful groan left his throat as you started grinding your soaked pussy against his toned stomach, spreading your wetness all over his abs. lewd, wet sounds of you rubbing yourself filled the room. sunghoon’s eyes rolled back for a second.
“you’re getting so wet,” he breathed, abs flexing underneath you every time you rolled your hips. “i can feel it dripping down my sides… why are you doing this—?”
you ignored him and only moaned louder, grinding down harder, using his body like he was nothing but your personal toy. the vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit while you rocked back and forth, leaving a shiny mess all over.
sunghoon looked wrenched.
his cock was painfully hard, flushed dark and leaking onto his skin. every time you moaned, his hips jerked up instinctively, but he couldn’t reach you.
he thought he could still hold it back. after all, you’re not that hard to please. you’d probably cum in just a few minutes, and sunghoon could relieve himself in the bathroom. and the timeout would be called off.
then you reached over to the nightstand again.
sunghoon’s eyes widened when he saw what you pulled out—a dildo.
“baby, no,” he breathed, shaking his head. “no, no, no—wait, what the fuck?”
you didn’t answer. instead, you brought the toy to your lips, looking straight at him while you sucked on the tip. you swirled your tongue around it, taking it deeper into your mouth with wet, obscene sounds, hollowing your cheeks.
he frowned even deeper—he looked like he was going to burst.
“babe, what the fuck—?!” his wrists yanked hard against the tie, the headboard cracking. “don’t do that. why are you sucking that shit? that’s not fair—yn, please—!”
his voice was full of pure jealousy as he watched you lube the dildo up with your mouth, eyes dark and frustrated and pissed the fuck off and annoyed. you pulled it out with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to the toy.
sunghoon looked like he was going to lose his mind. his breath quickened.
you lifted your hips, panties now fully to the side, and slowly dragged the thick head of the dildo along your folds, teasing yourself right above his stomach.
“no, no, no—don’t ride that. yn, i’m literally right fuckin’ here. i’m literally right here,” he begged, voice hoarse and whiny. “why the fuck would you use that when you have me? you’re so fuckin’ mean—and now you’re gonna fuck yourself on that thing on top of me?”
you lined the dildo up with your entrance and began sinking down onto it with a long, satisfied moan, right on his lower stomach—like it’s his dick. the sight of you taking the toy so easily made sunghoon’s cock twitch violently, a fresh bead of precum rolling down his shaft.
“fuck… this is torture,” he groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he watched you ride the dildo. “i hate this—i hate this so much. that should be me, fuck!”
you smiled down at him sweetly, rolling your hips in slow, deep circles, letting the toy drag against every sensitive spot inside you. while it’s nothing compared to your boyfriend’s, you figured you’d settle for this for now.
“mmh… but this feels so good, though?” you sighed, voice breathy and teasing. you braced your hands on his chest and started bouncing on it faster, making sure your ass brushed against his aching cock. “it’s so thick… filling me up just right.”
sunghoon’s eyes twitched, glued to where the toy disappeared inside you. his abs flexed hard everytime you sank down.
“baby, shit—” he groaned. “take it out. use me instead. i’m right here, i’m so hard for you—”
you ignored him and rode the dildo harder, moaning louder on purpose. your wetness was dripping all over his stomach. you reached down and rubbed your clit in time with your movements, putting on a full show just for him.
“look at you,” you cooed. “does it hurt, hoonie? knowing this could be your cock but you’re too greedy to behave?” you groaned, tipping your head back. “i would’ve ended the timeout anyway—but you couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
sunghoon let out a broken whine, yanking harshly on his restraints. his hips bucked up uselessly, trying to chase any kind of friction.
“i can’t—i can’t do this anymore,” he gasped, eyes glassy and desperate. “please let me fuck you—shit, let me kiss you, baby. i’ll—i’ll do anything, i don’t care anymore.”
you slowed your movements and leaned forward, bracing your hands on either side of his head. slowly, you lowered yourself until your face hovered right above his. your lips were so close—just centimetres away. you cupped his flushed cheeks with both hands, thumbs gently stroking his skin.
sunghoon’s breathing hitch then stopped. his lips parted, eyes wide.
you tilted your head slightly, lips brushing the tiniest bit against his—just a ghost one. you could feel his hot breath trembling against you.
sunghoon let out a soft, needy sound.
but right before your lips could properly meet, you pulled back.
you sat up straight again, still cupping his face for a second longer before letting go with a soft chuckle.
your boyfriend’s expression shattered.
“no… no—!” he groaned. “don’t do this to me. you were so close—baby, please!”
with one last hard yank on the tie, the headboard creaked loudly—
“i can’t anymore,” sunghoon hissed. “i give up, yn. i fucking give up—please just kiss me. i don’t care about the timeout anymore. i’ll take that four fucking days. please, i’m begging you.”
sunghoon looked up at you, chest heaving.
“i surrender.”
you watched him for a second—flushed, desperate, utterly ruined. a part of you was disappointed with how bad his restraint was, another part of you knew who to blame.
“alright then.”
you reached up and untied the silk tie from his wrists. the moment the fabric loosened and fell away—he surged forward. his hands grabbed your waist as he flipped you both over. you let out a surprised gasp as your back hit the mattress, and suddenly he was on top of you—caging you completely with his bigger frame.
his breathing was ragged as he hovered over you. one of his hands immediately slid to the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip.
“none of this bullshit anymore,”
then he crashed his lips onto yours.
it was pure hunger.
sunghoon kissed you like he was trying to devour and suck the living shit out of you—deep, messy, obsessive, starved. he tilted his head, sucking on your bottom lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth, licking and tasting every inch like he’d been denied oxygen for days.
wet, filthy sounds filled the room as he kissed you harder, groaning loudly against your lips.
“fucking finally,” he gasped between kisses, barely pulling back an inch. “missed your lips so much… so fucking much.”
he didn’t let you breathe. every time you tried to pull back for air, sunghoon chased your lips and punished you by kissing you even deeper, tongue sliding against yours with wet, desperate strokes. his hand cradled your jaw, keeping your face right where he wanted so he could indulge himself fully.
his body pressed you down into the mattress, hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he kept making out with you. your boyfriend’s fingers pressed your cheeks together, making your lips pout for him.
“mmph—!” you muffled.
sunghoon hummed at the ecstasy, eyes half–lidded in bliss as he kept your face squished between his slender fingers. he pulled back just enough to stare at your forced pout, then started peppering greedy, wet kisses all over your pushed out lips—soft at first, then harder, sucking on your bottom lip.
“fuck… look at you,” he whispered. “so fucking adorable—you’re so fucking cute.”
then he dove back in, kissing you deeper than before. his tongue pushed past your lips, licking into your mouth messily, tasting every inch while his spit mixed with yours. he was so greedy—sucking on your tongue, licking the roof of your mouth, then pulling back just to let strings of spit connect you before he licked them away and kissed you again.
you couldn’t utter a single word—not with the way sunghoon kept your cheeks squished the entire time, occasionally changing the angle so he could kiss you from a new side. his hips never stopped moving, grinding his leaking cock between your pussy lips, the tip nudged and kissed your little clit.
“shit—gonna make you my wife,” he moaned between messy kisses, breathing hot and heavy against your mouth. “wanna be my wifey, baby? fuck—legally bounding you to me forever.”
his cock twitched.
sunghoon liked the sound of it.
he squished your cheeks tighter, sealing his mouth over yours once more—deep, filthy, and so wet that drool was starting to drip down your chin. he licked it up without hesitation and fed it back to you with his tongue, moaning loudly when you whimpered.
“mmph—” you muffled, nails dragging red lines over his toned back.
sunghoon groaned at the sting, the sound vibrating into your mouth. finally, he loosened his grip on your cheeks and pulled back just enough for you to gasp desperately for air, chest heaving. “hah—!”
you barely managed three shaky breaths before his hand came back to your jaw, thumb pressing on your bottom lip.
“stick your tongue out,” he ordered.
you hesitated for half a second, still catching your breath. sunghoon frowned.
“baby,” he said. “i said, stick your tongue out for me.”
you swallowed the lump and saliva in your throat before letting your tongue slip past your swollen lips. sunghoon leaned down and immediately pressed his own tongue flat against yours. it’s so disgustingly filthy. he licked it slowly, then started playing with it shamelessly—curling, stroking, sucking on the tip before licking it again.
“that’s it,” he murmured against your mouth. while your eyes were shut, sunghoon occasionally opened his just to see the flushed look on your face. “just like that.”
he kept your mouth open with his thumb on your chin, tongue sliding, curling, dancing against yours in the most obscene way possible. he was so completely lost in it.
it didn’t take long.
“ah—fuck, baby!”
sunghoon kept kissing—making out, french kissing, wet mouth fucking—you desperately. and with a broken moan that vibrated against your mouth, his hips stuttered. his whole body tensed as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling against your lower tummy. he kissed you through it—whimpering into your mouth as he rode out his orgasm.
only when he finally stopped shaking did he pull back slightly, breathing heavily against your lips.
you laid there completely spent, chest heaving, staring blankly up at the ceiling as your mind spun. your body felt like jelly.
there is no fucking way, you thought. i’m ever putting him on timeout again.
who knows how crazy he’d get next time.
meanwhile, sunghoon collapsed half on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his arms wrapped tightly around your body, pulling you flush against him.
“i love you,” he mumbled against your skin, dripping with affection. “ugh… i love you so much.”
sunghoon pressed soft, lazy kisses all over your cheek, then your jaw, then back to your cheek again, nuzzling into you like a clingy pup.
“i love you, i love you, i love you…” he kept whispering between little kisses. one of his hands gently stroked your hair while the other rubbed circles on your waist. “let’s just forget about the timeout and never do that to me again, okay? i’ll actually go insane.”
you let out a weak, tired laugh, still dazed, but couldn’t help threading your fingers through his messy, sweaty hair.
sunghoon smiled against your cheek, giving you one last long, soft kiss before sighing.
𓍢 ⋆📖⊹ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ you are reading: preacher's daughter
sjy x f.reader (corruption kink, religious guilt, smut with a lot of plot, sensitive themes, +18)
"in the early 2000s, in some small, rural town, your religious and restrained life collides with jake sim, who makes you doubt everything you know and want to explore more of the world"
wc: 19.6k (what was that honesly)
author's notes: hii hellooo!!! i don't want to go on about this any longer cause it already took me about a month to prepare this, so despite having very maternal instincts with it, i feel desperate because maybe ill never write this well again! lol (it IS that deep for me okay) anyways! i hope you can enjoy it as much as i did! and here's the playlist i used (i was heavily influenced by ethel cain)
tw: corruption kink, outsider!jake x preachersdaughter!reader, no use of yn, use of legal substances, religious guilt, religious stuff in general, heresy, slow burn, opposites attract, size difference, manhandling, heavy make out, dry humping, edging, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, belly bulge, teasing, marking, cursing, dirty talk, oral sex, clit play, nipple play, body worship (f rec.), guided masturbation, dacryphilia, talking you through it, praising, pet names (church girl, little one), some grapphic violence(? not btw the pairing tho), distorted feelings, a funny turn of events in the end bc im crazy lmao, intended lowercase, and english is not my first language!!! if i forget anything let me know juseyo!
"my children, look at your hands. are they clean? the world outside is a hungry wolf, but inside here, we must be like the immaculate lamb" you heard the pastor preach from the pulpit. formal clothes, shirt tucked into pants, the best shoes you owned, hair so slicked back with a mixture of water and styling gel that it reflected the ceiling lights. when your father's eyes fell upon you, you lowered yours, resting them on the restless hands in your lap. that week's sermon was not in vain.
"remember: your body does not belong to you. it was bought with a price of blood. any desire of the flesh is a crack in the temple, and through that crack, the enemy enters" the man kept his eyes on your figure, and it wasn't necessary to look back to know; your shoulders burned from the indirect exposure. all because he had seen the boy who tended the gardens handing you a rose; which, of course, you had accepted politely.
it wasn't as if you had feelings for the boy, but you also weren't used to receiving attention from the opposite sex - even the church youth groups were careful not to mix genders. besides that, there was the major factor of being the pastor's daughter in a tiny countryside town where everyone knew each other and nothing was a secret.
it had happened to lisa, a former high school classmate, when she had her first kiss and went to confess and seek guidance; she had come out in tears from the small room your father used as an office. that same night, he told you never to speak to or sit near her during services again. or when the late mrs. johnson refused to give her tithe, claiming she needed to pay for the entire family's burial plot since she was the last of the name; the following week she no longer appeared at church, or the week after that, and after, and after... until she was found dead in her living room armchair; your father refused to say why the woman had stopped coming on sundays before her inevitable death from old age.
you sighed when the church bells rang, indicating the end of the preaching. the murmuring grew, and most people stood up, greeting one another, talking about trivialities as they walked toward the exit. you refrained, going to help your father blow out the candles and put away the books. you piled the objects in your lap, heading toward the narrow back door, noticing out of the corner of your eye before crossing the threshold an unfamiliar face going to talk to him.
you arranged everything on the shelves, brushing your dusty hand against your linen skirt before heading back out. your father was no longer there, nor was the stranger, but you saw under the door that the office light was on, so you sat down to wait. if your mother were still around, maybe she would tell you to go talk with the younger crowd while she waited for him, but that was a reality from years ago when she was still alive. you pressed your lips together and sighed, settled once more in the front row of pews.
the silence of the hall made the distant clock's tick-tock echo loudly, and the amplitude of the empty space made the cross positioned on the small altar seem to triple in size. he was watching. even if it wasn't your father, he would know, and he would judge. he would judge your lack of excitement for religion, your little faith, your curious glances, your inadequate desires, and he would whisper to your parent what he should say up there, so that every word was directed specifically at you.
a shiver ran down your spine when the office door opened, pulling you out of your small trance. your father was the first to step out, holding the door and signaling for the other to follow. who was he? dark hair, longer than usual for guys, a heavy brown suede jacket over a plain white shirt, jeans, and leather boots. you had never seen him around there, or anywhere else in town. his face was different, handsome... very handsome. full lips, thick eyebrows, a large nose... and as they approached, you noticed how tall he was too.
"ah, you're here" your father commented, flashing a fake smile in your direction, indicating his anger hadn't ceased, even after everything he had said. you stood up on impulse; hands pinned to your sides and perfect posture, but your sweet, shimmering eyes didn't lie as they scanned the new guy. "this is jake, jake sim, he just moved in" the man continued, observing your stunned state and then clearing his throat. "introduce yourself, kid..." something deep in your gut urged you to be indifferent, to ignore jake's hand extended toward you. but your body spoke before your brain could rationalize. your name came out as a whisper from your dry lips, but he still smiled, squeezing your hand lightly, letting you let go first. he put his hands back into his coat pockets while your father looked at you as if your head had been replaced by a giant question mark.
***
after that day, jake's presence was recurring. more often than you needed, less often than you craved. he was different from all the guys you knew; those who were almost a copy of your father - clothes too perfect, empty gazes. yes, jake was like a reminder that the mundane existed, a reminder that not everyone believed in the same god as you, that not everyone prayed before eating or cared about going to hell over a bad choice. whenever you ran into him, he smiled in your direction - an upside-down smile that made you wonder if he was curious or just felt pity.
your father had said he was moving from another city with no relatives, trying to make a life in a different place, and that was why jake would live in the small back room of the church for a while, paying rent by helping with the restoration of the ceiling and some walls that urgently needed plaster and paint.
he seemed willing, never truly standing still, carrying buckets of paint, mortar, pushing the rusty wheelbarrow where he put all the tools and materials back and forth. one moment he was outside, another he stopped to smoke before moving on to restore some pillar in the main hall. and whenever you cooked, your father asked you to take a plate of food to the dark-haired guy; since your house was across the street and it didn't hurt to help.
whether it was simple rice and meat or pasta, jake always made sure to thank you properly, stopping what he was doing - white tank top clinging to his sweaty torso, stained with paint and dirt, hair stuck to his forehead which he pushed back with his fingers - stepping down from the ladder or standing up to receive the plate from you. "did you make this?" he would ask, smelling the food and then looking at you. "yes... it's simple, i hope you don't mind". he would shake his head and then smile wide before sitting down to eat on a low stool nearby. "i haven't eaten home-cooked food in months." he would fork it and take a big bite, chewing and nodding approvingly, "it's good, very good."
your heart didn't help, making your chest give an unexpected twinge that left you flustered by the compliments you never received. "you... have been helping a lot..." you justified, and after a few seconds of just watching, you would simply extend your hand in a small goodbye and turn your back, walking quickly to leave the place while your small fingers reached for the rosary decorating your neck, squeezing the pendant hard.
it was bad. it was worse than you could have imagined. and it got worse. the more you saw him, the more phrases you exchanged, the more you wanted to talk, the more you wanted to discover who he really was. you knew he had a car, a ford f-custom pickup in a faded red tone from sitting in the sun. you knew he liked jackets because you had seen him with several; you knew he smoked and that he didn't attend the services; not even once.
jake didn't talk about his family; let alone which city he was coming from. your father didn't know much more either, snapping back with a "why do you want to know?" the first and only time you questioned him during dinner. "just because... he appeared so suddenly" you replied with a trembling voice, hearing a huff from the older man.
as the weeks passed, the church took on a new air: revamped, clean. he had even taken care of the flowers in the beds - abandoned since your father excommunicated the gardener for the act of chivalry toward you - which now had small white and yellow flowers blooming. the ceiling didn't drip anymore when it rained, and jake had fixed the pews that had rotting boards inside. your father was grateful, you knew he was; maybe that was why he didn't force jake to participate on sundays. but whenever the service ended and you left the church, you could see him outside with a cigarette tucked into the corner of his lips, flipping through some book you had never heard of, sitting on the hood of his truck.
and whenever he caught you watching, he would stop, take the cigarette from his lips, and close the book, setting it aside as if he were dedicating all his attention to you for those brief minutes in which you passed by him, waved, crossed the street, and went inside; blushing, and with ragged breath. so pathetic that you felt stupid.
maybe he knew. or maybe that was very presumptuous of you. to assume he knew what he was doing to you, that your head was becoming so disorganized that even you couldn't name what it was, other than that it was wrong.
that was why you had started to pray every night that jake could find a real job and move away, asking that he be successful and move to a bigger city, far away. far from the church and far from where you could see him. and for that same reason, you would finish and go to bed crying because the words whispered weakly were never genuine. they were selfish and lying, and the angels would know.
one monday, you decided you would ignore him. that it was nonsense, that your lack of faith was dominating you and you couldn't go on like this. so, you headed to your nursing course which took place in the town clinic and which you could get to and from on foot.
on the way, you had seen him at a car parts store, but you didn't look more than enough to ignore him, letting him crane his neck out of the small shop watching you walk down the street. you had finished high school the previous year, and despite having taken some exams and sent some recommendation letters, you had never received any reply from any of the colleges; or at least that's what your father said.
you wanted to study medicine, and while you couldn't, you were content with the course miss marie taught in exchange for you helping with some patients during the week. you had already learned about sutures, stitches, wound cleaning, casting, dressings, and a host of other things. as a consequence, you ended up learning about medications and dosages and always heard from marie that you were an exemplary student and would surely do well in the real course.
and whenever she said this, a mix of sadness and joy formed in the pit of your stomach, tangling with your breakfast that you nearly threw up. you would never be able to go to college, not if you stayed here... not if you stayed under your father's watch, being swallowed by the monotony of this dead-end town and the church, ever fuller, ever more imposing.
when your break arrived, you asked to go to the bookstore on the same street and stayed there for half an hour, entertained with nursing and medicine books, tempting yourself every now and then and picking up some romance story to leaf through.
"love"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ"surrender"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ"desire"
the words caught in the air quickly as your eyes scanned the yellowed pages always made the hair on your arms stand up. romance wasn't something real. and the only true love was the one that came from devotion to the lord. men and women shouldn't touch for pleasure; that was reserved for marriage and procreation according to divine laws. but still, the words didn't disappear from your mind as you went back to work under the weakened heat of the setting sun.
"oh dear, are you back already? a young man stopped by and asked for you" you heard marie, stopping in your tracks, your body freezing, making you turn your head slowly toward her as she noted something in a small customer log, leaning on the counter. "jake! he said he needed to talk to you, but didn't want to leave any message" she continued simply, taking a moment to land her eyes on you and smirk at your pale expression. "you know him, right?" she knit her brows and you nodded before swallowing hard and heading to the bandage room.
what could he possibly want with you? what could be so urgent that jake genuinely sought out the place where you worked? maybe it was about your father. or maybe he needed help at the church. maybe he wanted to say goodbye before finally leaving after five weeks of living there and standing out from everything around him.
maybe he wanted to warn you that he would tell your father, that he would tell of the times your eyes lingered too long on him, or how your cheeks flushed when he smiled at you when you looked at him through your bedroom window and he was in the flower beds. your stomach spiraled and you leaned against the cabinet next to you at the unreal possibility, feeling on the verge of fainting.
air failed you and you grabbed your own shirt, twisting the fabric in your fingers and pulling -wanting the fabric to unstick from your skin for a few seconds because it had to be that preventing you from filling your lungs with oxygen and not a damn panic attack - trying to breathe deeply and not succeeding for long minutes.
you needed to tell the pastor it wasn't that, that it wasn't what he thought, that you would never think... that you would never do it! that you would be better, that you would pray more, dedicate yourself more!
when you finally managed to come back to yourself, you grabbed your crossbody bag and returned to the front of the clinic, asking brokenly if you could leave work a little early that day, which was promptly accepted despite the older woman's concerned expression.
"see you to-" but you didn't hear her, already on the sidewalk, quickening your pace.
***
you had never walked so fast in your life. the slight cramp in your calf was ignored until you were on your home block, able to see the high church bell from there, where you walked with yearning. your house had the windows closed, but the car was in the garage, only meaning your father was at the church. you threw the hall doors open, and the echo of the whistling wind vibrated against the walls. your lips parted and closed uncertainly as you passed through the rows of long pews, illuminated by the sunbeams still entering through the high windows at that hour of the afternoon. you stepped onto the platform, your low sandal heels sounding on the floorboards, extending your hand to reach the office door.
but just as you opened it, another person came out of there, bumping their body against yours.
"sorry, i-" you began, slowly raising your eyes until they met the dark eyes of the sim boy. you took a step back, squeezing the bag strap. jake closed the door behind him and smiled simply, knitting his brows when you stared at him as if he had two heads.
"in a hurry?" he asked and you pressed your mouth into a line, shaking your head. "really? i could've sworn i heard your footsteps all the way here" he said and crossed his arms, making his forearms with noticeable veins suck in your attention for an instant.
"i need to talk to my father" you managed to say quietly, looking away from him. "he's not in. at least, not here" he told you, turning his face a bit to analyze you. "did your boss say i looked for you?" he asked, watching you chew the inside of your cheek before nodding. "is that why you left early?" he raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh.
"n-not because of you..." the phrase came out direct, more direct than you intended, and he was perfectly aware you hadn't done it maliciously, but even so, he leaned over and placed his hand over his chest, letting out a dramatic "arrgh".
"didn't have to destroy me like that" he joked, but your posture didn't relaxed. your free hand gripped your long skirt and crumpled the fabric; this didn't go unnoticed by him either.
jake straightened up and ran his tongue over his teeth, looking around before going back to watching you, measuring your small, trembling body in front of him. "did you come to tell your father that i looked for you then? wow... such a good girl, huh?" he let out in a mocking bittersweet tone.
your eyes widened and you finally stared back at him, parting your lips and feeling your heart hammer against your rib cage. "so that's really it?" he held a shit-eating grin on his lips now, just amusing himself, but when you took a step back, indicating you'd run from there at the first chance, the boy decided to stop stalling, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out an envelope.
"the reason for looking for you was because this arrived for you, and... it seems to be something important" he handed you the letter with the college seal on the edge, pointing with his index finger.
the moment he spoke and you took the letter in your hands, your head took a while to process what that meant... or rather, what it could mean. you raised your eyes to him once more and he gestured to the paper in clear encouragement. you were feeling a bit of shame from the earlier exposure, but still... to finally have a response to the countless letters you had sent was truly exciting.
you closed your eyes for a few moments before opening the seal with erratic hands. your almond-shaped eyes scanned every detail, the sender's information, the college logos, the date, and your name written there.
"subject: admission decision and financial aid offer
congratulations! it is with great pleasure that we offer you admission to the class of-"
you stopped, not because you wanted to, but because your voice got choked up with a knot forming in your throat, making you bring your other hand to your mouth to cover it, unable to believe what you had just read.
your eyes were so wide that jake ended up laughing and leaning in to take it and finish reading for you. "thats awesome... like, with them funding a huge part of it?..." you stared at him, static. behind your eyes, your mind made a small movie of your life pass by until that moment. all the times you had worked hard on high school projects, the sleepless nights of study, the social actions that were always successful thanks to the church faithful. however, now that you had the result right there in your hands, didn't it seem a bit too much?
you remained quiet. the passing of time was just an illusion.
"what? you did not liked it?" the taller boy knit his brows and then you shook your head dejectedly, receiving the paper back and looking awkwardly at what was written. "no, i loved it. but... it's the furthest one of all..." you spoke softly at last, feeling your nose sting and eyes water, controlling the urge to cry in front of the other because so many humiliations in a row in one day would be hard to deal with.
"it's the chance of a lifetime, little one" jake added, but didn't force it more than that, resting one hand on your head and messing up your hair lightly. he didn't know exactly why, but judging by your earlier desperation and the not-so-gentle sermons the pastor used to give -which he could hear even from afar - he had some idea.
***
after the touch, jake had left you there. it had nothing to do with him anyway. you didn't know how much longer you had remained standing there; you only knew that when you left the church, the orange sky was gradually giving way to the black vastness of the night, while your father talked to one of the congregants at the front door. you had passed by them and greeted them politely, going inside and up the stairs to your room.
the week passed in the blink of any eye for you, your thoughts drifting far away. on the street you stumbled, at work you pricked yourself with scissors and needles, inattentive, earning your first scoldings from marie; you struggled to invent excuses not to eat dinner, preferring the pain of a growling stomach to sitting at the table with the pastor and having him ask about your day. and whenever you thought about sleeping to escape the hunger, the moment you laid your head on the pillow, you saw a crucifix nailed above the bed.
you didn't remember when that decoration had been nailed there, but you remembered once asking your 7th-grade classmates what they had for decorations on their walls. stars that glowed in the dark, band posters, original drawings, wallpaper - but not a damn beige wall with a single crucifix in the middle. wasn't it normal for a child to be able to decorate their room with... child things? wasn't it normal for children to be encouraged to have childhood interests? and the symbol weighed over you as if it weighed a ton, squeezing your diaphragm and making you so frustrated that you threw a pillow at the object, to no effect.
on friday, when you got up and went down for breakfast, you found the man there, with a cup of strong black coffee exhaling steam from the heat while he flipped through a newspaper. he didn't say good morning, and you breathed one out so quietly that the sound of the birds outside kept it from being heard. you served yourself cereal and milk, sitting at the furthest end of the table. he turned a page, wetting his fingertips with saliva, and you breathed shallowly, trying not to be noticed. too late. "make dinner today, and come down to eat" the thick, firm voice sounded, rhetorical and impenetrable. you nodded, even though he wouldn't see over the newspaper, and continued eating, swallowing with difficulty because you barely chewed so as not to make noise.
when you left the porch of the house, heading down the steps to the sidewalk, you were surprised by jake, who joined your walk.
"so... have made your decision yet?" he asked, hands in pockets, walking side by side.
"good morning... and no" you replied simply, avoiding eye contact with the taller man; looking at your feet walking in sync instead. jake sighed and then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, putting one in his mouth and reaching for his lighter.
"do you mind?" he asked, and when you just looked at him for half a second before focusing elsewhere, he lit it, watching the tip burn as he took a slow drag. he blew the smoke to the opposite side. "you know those scholarships could give you access to a dorm, right? what's the problem with it being far?"
why was jake following you anyway? you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand and shrugged. "if you want something that bad... why don't you do it?" his words parked in your head.
because james in his first chapter, verses fourteen through fifteen, said that each one is tempted by their own evil desire, being dragged away and enticed, and then after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin. that was why you couldn't decide for yourself, choose your own clothes, or wear makeup; it was why you didn't choose the decorations for your room even though you were nineteen years old, and why you couldn't let your will make you cross the country just to study if you could still be useful here. but jake wouldn't understand.
"is that what you would do if you were in my place?" you asked back, giving a timid smile and watching him study your expression - he thought you managed to look even cuter with your eyes puffy from sleep - as he slowly pulled the nicotine into his lungs, holding it and then letting it out bit by bit.
"if i were you, you wouldn't be asking what someone else would do" he replied confidently.
jake didn't have any appointments downtown, nor did he have any business there, but he still accompanied you to the front of the clinic, where he watched you go in quietly without saying anything else. he finished his cigarette right there, throwing the butt on the ground and crushing it with the sole of his boot.
marie asked you to make a splint for a little boy's finger that morning. the little guy had sprained his finger playing basketball in his garage, and every time you even brushed against the needle with the anesthesia, his eyes filled with tears. he was probably afraid, you thought, even though he wanted to appear brave. "did you know the mayor said they're going to build a sports court in the central plaza?" you commented, catching the little one's attention and seeing him shake his head no. "i heard all the children will be able to use it; doesn't that seem like a good opportunity to make friends?" you asked sweetly.
while the child thought and began to answer, you quickly gripped the anesthesia and applied it to the site. "ow!" he furrowed his brows, finally looking down and seeing the empty syringe. "you... already did it?" he blinked, confused and relieved at the same time. "uh-huh, and you didn't even notice" you breathed. "how did you do that?" he stared at you again with eyes shining with pure hope. "secret!" you winked and then grabbed the materials to make the splint.
"she probably cast a spell on me or something mommy, i swear!" that's what the kiddo said as he left the clinic accompanied by his mother, who just laughed at the silly assumptions. your boss gave you a playful little nudge, liking how you hadn't stopped smiling at the situation. after all, you had been strange all the other days, and feeling a bit of satisfaction with work was a great reason.
"you really have a gift" she pointed out and touched your shoulder. "by the way, i saw you were accompanied today... it was the guy from the other day..." the nurse continued. "are you two dating?" she asked as if she were asking about the weather.
your eyes widened and you denied it repeatedly, squeezing the small bag where you threw the dirty gauze and discarded the needle. "he... we-my father helped him... he's a newcomer". "oh. well, he definitely looks like one" she breathed before leaving you.
when you were alone in the room, you stopped for a few seconds, looking down and taking a deep breath.
you wanted to be able to say that the joy of having been good for the child with the hurt finger had remained for the rest of the day, but as soon as the clock struck five in the afternoon, you felt the anguish of the inevitable approaching. you packed your things slowly and even waited for marie to close the entrance so you could head home. if jake appeared and offered you a ride at that moment to anywhere far from there, you would accept it; you'd deal with the consequences of leaving your father waiting some other time. but no one appeared, and you were alone to face whatever was coming.
***
the bath? it had been a rupture in time disguised as a cloud of steam that passed without you noticing. you put on your light, long dress - which reached your ankles - and combed your hair before going down to make dinner.
your house had never been very well-lit, but in the past, there were still photos scattered around, some diplomas, both yours and your mother's, but your father had made sure to remove everything that reminded him of her. everything. except what he couldn't: the memory.
the humming of the refrigerator sounded louder than ever, making your internal organs want to coil up. the sound of the fire boiling the vegetable soup to thicken the broth served only as a second voice to the discordant music in the kitchen.
when it was seven in the evening, he appeared. dress shirt, polished shoes, pressed pants, and hair no longer so perfectly combed. an indifferent expression that you never knew was because he was at home or because he was seeing you. you exchanged silent glances, and he approached the dining table, which casually sat under the only light source between the living room and the kitchen. you served the plates and sat down, joining your hands and interlacing your fingers, closing your eyes to give thanks for the food.
"heavenly father, sanctify this meal which your hand has provided. may this food give us vigor to serve your kingdom with purity and obedience. amen" this made you press your lips together; he never thanked the one who prepared it.
the clinking of cutlery filled the void in the air, along with the sound of moderate chewing.
"so what happened that you lost your respect and appetite this week?" he was the one who started, cutting a piece of bread to dip in the soup. over the days you had considered telling him, taking a chance. you were almost convinced it wasn't worth it, if it hadn't been for that afternoon... you had been so happy to help, so content to see the softening expression in those child eyes.
"i received an acceptance letter, for next year's class..." you commented quietly, without the courage to look at your own parent.
"and what about it?" he returned, chewing the soaked slice of bread audibly.
"i thought... with the money i saved, and maybe finding a part-time job, i could support myself there. it's a full scholarship" oh, he didn't seem surprised.
your father continued eating, feeling your eyes slowly rising to him until he stopped abruptly, dropping the spoon on the plate. "i thought we had put an end to this discussion. that you would take the theology course in the neighboring town and help me with the church. that is the path the lord has been laying out for you..." the words came out serious.
"i made so many applications and we agreed to wait for a year, dad..." you furrowed your eyebrows.
"i didn't agree to wait a year. i never even agreed with this college story. do you know how hard it is? the sins, the ambition, the selfishness in those places? do you know what it's like to be alone in a place like that? especially you, who has never seen any of it?" his voice began to change and he moved his mouth irritably. "that's your wish? to become mundane and dirty? to disappoint god because you couldn't resist to your inner demons?" he asked, staring, his fist clenched on the wooden table.
"it doesn't have to be like that! i would only go to study!" you defended yourself, feeling a bitterness rise in your throat.
"study? do you want to look at me straight in the eyes and ask me to believe this when you can barely keep your legs closed to the garden boy?!" you widened your eyes and parted your lips... how could he say something so gross and unrealistic when all you had done was accept a simple flower?
the first tear ran down your cheek stealthily, without you noticing; the others that followed, you didn't have the strength to contain. "mom would want me to pursue this..." your voice crawled, weak and trembling. but to him, it sounded like the worst of offenses, one that tore the armor he had created many years ago.
"repeat what you've just said" his tone was dark now, loaded with a veiled hate he felt for your existence.
when his chair scraped back and his body rose, you swallowed your sobs, looking at him. "dad, p-please... i didn't intend t-"
the impact of the slap on your face was strong enough to make your ear ring and your neck be thrown to the side. the welt immediately rose to the surface of your skin. the pain made you lose your breath, but he didn't care, grabbing your hair and making you look at him as he leaned down to be at your height. "you disgust me" he said sharply, spitting the words. "i pray to god forgive your sins, but you are helpless" and with that, he let you go, making your body collapse into the chair, and he left the room, heading to the second floor with heavy steps.
you hugged your own body while the crying was overwhelming, squeezing your eyes shut and shrinking back.
when times like this arrived, to whom should you turn? your father thought you were disgusting, and god must have had an opinion not much different. your friends were limited to the young people who attended church on sundays and occasionally went to the group, but never really got close. the rest of your family lived miles away, and unfortunately, you were foolish and inexperienced, just as the older man had said.
you stood up limply and put the unfinished plates of soup in the sink, almost letting the heavy dishes fall and shatter on the floor; you turned off the light and instead of going to your room, you went out the front door, feeling the cold breeze and the yellow streetlights bathe your figure.
you walked across the porch and across the front garden until you were on the sidewalk, starting to walk without a certain direction. maybe you'd walk around the block, maybe you'd go to the small park nearby and sit on one of the swings until your body got used to the sadness and the night went back to being like any other.
***
the tears still fell, less agitated, yet colder as the wind chilled them against your flushed cheeks. your swollen nose sniffled, and you pressed your lips together, dwelling on the words you had heard.
jake was coming back from one of the freelance jobs he had picked up at a construction site. in the pickup, the music played low, and he tapped the steering wheel every now and then, attentive to the dark streets of the little town that went to sleep too early. he would have continued if he hadn't spotted something. honestly, with that thin, light dress that fluttered in the skirt from the wind, he might have thought it was a ghost... a very pretty and well-behaved one, though. the boy smiled as he flashed his high beams once, slowing down and rolling down the window to stick his head out. "hey church girl!" he called, and your silhouette stopped. but when your face turned to him, the smile jake had died almost instantly.
he stopped the vehicle right there and got out in a hurry. loose pants held up by a worn belt, a stained tank top, a jacket - which he was already taking off to wrap around you - and beautifully disheveled hair.
"what happened? what are you doing here?" he asked, looking down, without asking permission to touch your face and make you look at him. you were a mess of tears, snot, and there was still that mark on your cheek that he quickly identified. you didn't answer, but when the gentle weight of the leather jacket wrapped around your bare shoulders and jake's thumbs wiped your tears, you looked at him.
"jake..." you called, testing the name on the tip of your tongue. that, as incredible as it seems, was the first time you breathed the combination of letters.
"yes? i'm here." his expression was one of concern. but how could he feel that for someone like you? whom he barely knew or spoke to; maybe you were so miserable that you really didn't realize it. "do you want me to do something?" he asked, shifting his eyes from yours to your cheek before coming back.
"no..." you denied. you could have pulled away from him, touched his wrists so he would let go, but you didn't. "i was just... walking..." your last shred of judgment made you speak.
"no, you were crying and walking without direction... that's not just walking. what happened?" god, he was so insistent.
"my dad... we talked, about the college..." you explained, and jake shook his head, squeezing your face between his large, calloused hands. he could picture what had happened; he wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly the kind of guy the pastor was. they were all the same, so good for the community, titling themselves messengers of god or some shit like that, using other people's money to promote themselves, spreading lies, taking away dreams, having disgusting secrets.
"i'm not letting you go back home today, sorry" the boy concluded, letting go of your cheeks and holding your hand, dragging you so he could take you to the truck.
without another word, he opened the passenger door and lifted you by the waist as if you weighed nothing, sitting you there and helping with the belt. your faces were close, but your eyes were too cloudy for you to see the details of the taller man's profile. you saw him go around before getting in the driver's side and sitting there to start it again; the roar of the engine breaking the silence of the street.
he didn't say where he was taking you, and you didn't ask either. for someone who fled from him as the devil flees from the cross, you were placing a lot of trust there. in less than twenty minutes, during which you had exchanged at most two words - with him asking if you were still cold and you denying it - you had arrived at a bar where the blinking neon sign read "jj's bar." the facade was nothing fancy; on the contrary, plain walls with some posters announcing live music and cheap beer, the light of the sign in shades of yellow and red making the mixture of colors bathe the cracked sidewalk.
jake offered you his hand for you to get out, and you avoided eye contact when you did, lips pressed together. when you entered, the atmosphere was strangely welcoming. a varnished counter with several stools along its length. floorboards of wood that creaked slightly when stepped on, tables scattered about, walls covered in posters, flyers, ads, photos, and tacky wallpaper in shades of wine and brown. behind the counter, a young man was drying some glass cups, and a large cabinet held various glasses, containers, and drinks. a pool table, some slot machines, a jukebox.
"jake jakey..." the barman spoke and smiled, leaning on the counter as you approached.
jake smiled, touching the small of your back subtly as if he wanted to reassure you that everything was fine; he also extended his hand, shaking the guy's on the other side. "my friend, jay..." he breathed and followed jay's gaze, which fell slowly onto you.
"and you, young lady?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, friendly. you breathed out softly and nodded.
"i already told you about her..."
"oh... so you are the preach-"
"ahem" jake cleared his throat and the guy stopped, staring at him and getting the message.
"well, make yourselves comfortable. for you, i already know, but how about you, sweetheart, what'll it be?" - jake rolled his eyes in disbelief at the blatant flirting – the park waited for your answer, but the only thing you could do was look up, searching for a menu... like in the diners, right?
"oh-i see... what's your age?"
"nineteen" jay smiled gently in your direction, shifting his attention to the boy beside you; what kind of communication was that?
you watched him grab a bottle from the cabinet and serve a glass halfway, putting in ice and tapping the surface in front of the sim boy before pushing it toward him.
you watched jake take the glass and gulp - his prominent adam's apple bobbing - wrinkling his nose slightly before staring at you. "what?" he murmured, and you shook your head, embarrassed to be caught staring.
minutes later jay placed a glass with a pink mixture and a little umbrella on top. "its cherry syrup with white vermouth by the way, that's the lightest i can do" he threw the hand-drying cloth over his shoulder and crossed his arms. you shouldn't drink. you didn't know these people, you didn't know your limit, and you were far from home, but the only thing you did was look to the sides, searching for any sign. a cross, a saint, someone... any sign that indicated you would be punished later.
when you didn't find one, you looked at the glass, closing your small fingers around it and testing the weight before lifting it to your lips. the first sip wasn't bad, the smell was sweet and the taste even more so, but at the very end the aftertaste caused a sting. both pairs of eyes analyzed you and you covered your mouth after placing the glass back on the wood. "it's good... different, but good," you said and saw both of them smiling.
"you don't have to drink it all," jake breathed and let his eyes travel over you. your body disappeared in his jacket, and you held onto the fabric of your dress skirt as usual. were you always afraid?
you just nodded... without much to say. it was the first time you had entered a bar, you were sure you shouldn't be there, but you didn't feel threatened. the music wasn't loud and it was pleasant to hear, making your feet suspended from the stool swing lightly while you fingered the sweating glass. "have things always been this way?", jake took advantage of the moment when his colleague, and owner of the bar, moved away to talk.
and you caught yourself trying to remember when was the last time your father had acted like a real father and not like a vigilante. "no... it's hard to remember, though... after my mother passed away, he doesn't seem to be the same person" you breathed.
jake looked down and bit his lip. he was terrible at consoling and it wasn't as if he had never had a girl crying in his arms, but definitely the reason wasn't the same. "and you never thought about leaving?", he continued and saw you sip the drink once more before looking at him.
"wouldn't that be selfish?", you returned and he knit his brows.
selfish...? the word made the older boy swallow hard, tapping the counter once before getting up from the stool and helping you do the same. he held your shoulders, placing your body in front of his and guiding you to one of the game machines.
"i don't know how to play" you looked up from below and he just smiled, taking a token from his pocket and positioning himself behind you.
"you don't have to know everything to do it, you know?", his voice had a soft and more relaxed timbre now. "you just have to want to" jake carefully touched your wrists, indicating where you should hold. the machine's crank and the colored buttons that every time they were pressed made the character on the screen release some kind of different animation.
the dark-haired boy was hunched over, his face next to yours, cheeks almost brushing, explaining what you could do. your brain tried, struggled to pay attention, but it was so much information... blue button to attack, his perfume invading your nostrils, walking forward with the joystick, the warm touch of his hands over yours, white button to start again, his minty breath blowing against your neck while he spoke... you bit your lip and confirmed when he asked if you were ready.
you watched the characters on the screen casting powers and trading funny blows. in high school some boys mentioned this. it was fun, although you didn't understand the rules. you did exactly as the older boy said, managing somehow to defeat the opponent. when the 'winner' text appeared there you smiled, but you smiled even more when jake celebrated, squeezing your arms and shaking you carefully, just drawing a soft giggle from you. "you're good at it!", he straightened up and pinched your chin lightly.
he spent three more tokens, letting you test other characters and showing you how it was done; proceeding to lose all the times and making a tired face when the last fight ended and the machine flashed ‘insert your ticket’. "okay... that was a first, i'm actually good, seriously," he defended himself and you gave a breathy smile, enjoying yourself.
when your crying was nowhere to be seen and jake's presence had totally overshadowed the night's events, you could finally notice him. black, wavy hair, a mouth drawn with a heart-shaped cupid's bow. there was something magnetically soft about him that made it impossible to look away, a perfect harmony between the sharp, aristocratic line of his nose and the warm glow of his dark eyes. his lip curved into a lazy side smile, the kind of smile you knew your father would call temptation, and for the first time, you understood exactly why people gave in to it.
you passed in front of the old jukebox and stopped, observing the varnished details and the little letters inside, showing which tracks were available.
"do you like music?", he asked, approaching as well.
"i... don't listen much" and even so your eyes vibrated at the equipment in front of you, curious, exploring.
"pick one" he said, alternating his gaze between you and the machine, biting his lip, anxious to know what it would be.
"i don't know any of these...", you denied laughingly and he rolled his eyes, putting the coin there and looking at you expectantly.
so many names, you ended up choosing the most different of all, drawing a little laugh from him. jake and you looked at each other while iris by the goo goo dolls started to play. he held your hand and took a few steps back, taking you to one of the more open spaces in the bar, before joining your bodies, circling your waist carefully, smoothly sliding his fingertips along your wrist, making you hold him by the shoulders, guiding your body in a slow dance.
your heart was galloping, and your cheeks were feverish, while your expression didn't hide your mixed shock and embarrassment, feeling your lip twitch as you searched for words and gave up ridiculously.
jake smiled from the side, making you rest your head on his chest. he accompanied your small body moving slowly with his, feeling a twinge in his chest when you rubbed your face lightly against him, sniffling against his shirt. your thin and small fingers squeezing so lightly on his shoulders that he was afraid the minimum contraction of muscles could hurt you. the melody swayed the pressed bodies, and for the minutes the music box played, it was just you two there.
even when the last guitar chords played, you slowly pulled away, staring at him sweetly. you wanted to ask what that had been - which would be a mess because not even jake knew - but you moistened your lips, pulling back your arms again, smiling awkwardly before hugging your own body.
"thank you...", you said softly and he froze, his eyes darkening even more, watching your body take a few steps back, testing the subtle distance; with no intention of really running away now.
the boy blinked slowly and as soon as you turned to go back to the counter he stretched his body, holding your arm and making you turn again. but when your eyes met, he took a few moments to say: "i would never think that selfishness is being yourself. i would never think that selfishness is prioritizing yourself" the answer finally came, making you fix your eyes on him. "and if it is, then maybe being selfish isn't so bad, right?", his touch softened, making his arm slide away again, but the electricity of the contact remained there, like a promise that this was only the first step out of your bubble.
and you could swear he was approaching millimetrically when jay's voice sounded nearby. "guys, sorry to interrupt, but, we are closing"
***
the pickup's engine finally went silent, leaving only the popping of the cooling metal and the sound of the wind cutting through the tall grass of the lookout. down there, the city was just a tangle of distant lights that didn't seem to belong to the same world you were in. a parallel world where he had dragged you to spend the night.
jake lowered the tailgate and helped you up, spreading a thick blanket over the metal so you'd be comfortable. lying side by side, the sky seemed larger than you had ever seen from the locked windows of home. you talked - as if in all those years the words had just been waiting for someone to ask and care - you told him everything and anything he asked, from your favorite color to the last book you had read.
you told him about the silent rules of your routine, about the expectations that weighed on your shoulders and about how you wanted to be able to do something without disappointing the people around you. jake, on the other hand, was a presence of mysteries and calm silences. he listened with an almost voracious attention, eyes fixed on your profile, on how your mouth moved and tightened when you thought, absorbing every fragment of your story to understand how you still managed to be so intact. it was fascinating.
"and you?" you asked, turning your face to him, feeling the early morning dew prickle your skin. "do you have a religion? do you believe in god?"
jake let out a soft chuckle, a sound that vibrated in his chest before reaching the full lips he moistened. he turned on his side, propping his head on his hand to face you. "i don't believe in that image they sell out there. altars, punishments..." he shrugged, and the glow of his eyes seemed denser under the moonlight. and at the same time his sincerity frightened you, it made you more and more interested. "i have my own convictions. i believe in what i can feel, what i can touch...", jake let his eyes slide over your body for a few milliseconds.
a shiver that wasn't from cold ran down your spine.
"don't you think god- that he would hate us? for being here? for thinking like this?" the question came out small, loaded with a reverential fear, and a guilt that was present for as long as you could remember.
jake smiled, dangerously docile. "god could never hate a girl like you" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a dark velvet. "you're just so... pure"
the word seemed to burn, entering through your ears, circling your whole body and stopping right in your chest where your heart accelerated. you sat up on the truck bed, hugging your knees against your chest and hiding your face between them for a moment. the silence in the air became thick, and not even the chirping of the crickets was enough to appease your feelings.
"i... don't feel that way anymore" you confessed with a slightly trembling voice; struggling not to cry again since your puffy eyelids couldn't handle another round.
jake sat up right after, his movement being fluid and, at the same time, careful. he didn't look away; on the contrary. his hand went up to your shoulder, warm fingers contrasting with the cold jacket, caressing the fabric that covered your shoulder with a slowness that seemed to want to uncover what was underneath all those layers.
"look at me" he asked, pulling your shoulder with a gentle firmness so you would stare back.
seeing you like that - with damp eyes, parted lips and this readiness to let yourself be carried away - jake felt his stomach twist. there was something sickly and stimulating in the way you seemed breakable in his hands, even without him touching you properly. his desire wasn't just physical; it was the desire to be the one who would untie all your knots, the one who would see your chastity transform into something that only belonged to him, that only existed in his presence.
he repeated the motion from the bar, but now there was no one to interrupt.
jake kept leaning in, the space between you disappearing while the smell of mint and leather enveloped you little by little. you knew exactly what was about to happen and your mind sought your father's warnings, the moral lessons, the sunday sermons, the sins listed in old books... but your body didn't move one bit. your eyes closed, and you held your breath without noticing, waiting for the meeting of lips in a simple kiss. his mouth warm, contrasting with your cold lips.
this was your first kiss, surrendered so naturally to jake sim that it didn't feel wrong. his large and hand held the side of your face, long fingers getting lost among the strands of hair and his thumb caressing your cheekbone, a tender possessiveness that anchored you there. at the beginning, it was a dry, exploratory contact, just the warmth of the mucous membranes recognizing each other, a sensation that made your stomach turn from the novelty.
with the passing of seconds, the pressure increased. jake didn't force it; he just offered. he parted his lips against yours, letting the tip of his tongue provoke the contour of your mouth, a silent invitation he anxiously waited to be accepted. your inexperience screamed, but instinct spoke louder. when you finally gave in, allowing the tongues to meet for the first time, a short gasp escaped your throat making the older boy sniff in approval.
jake noticed your hesitation and didn't allow you to feel lost. he guided, dictating the rhythm, while his free hand sought your wrist with delicacy making you position your hand on his shoulder, encouraging your fingers to seek the support they needed to pull closer. with the contact firm, the kiss became needy, an urgency that seemed to consume the oxygen around, and a kind of magnet making both drag closer to each other; your thigh very nearly climbing over his leg.
inside your head, chaos tried to organize itself. memorized verses about temptation and severe warnings tried to emerge, but were immediately buried. there was no room for guilt when every inch of your body responded to his with a frightening intensity. morality was a language you didn't speak anymore. now, your brain could only process the tangible reality: the taste of him.
when he took his hand to your waist, entering the jacket he himself had lent you and you startled at the rougher and more direct touch, with lips peeling off his before seeking them again, jake pulled away suddenly, clearing his throat and taking his hand from there, laughing awkwardly and shaking his head. "fuck, i'm sorry...", he breathed low, not knowing for sure what he was asking for, but making you come back to the surface too, just as confused, blushing and swallowing the saliva in your mouth, biting your lip still leaning towards him. "you've been drinking...", he explained calmly, passing his eyes over the girl, the shiny lips, the straight neckline of the messy dress and exposing one of your collarbones, the breathing through the mouth.
he had been drinking too, but your courage to speak had been entirely spent with the seal, so you just nodded, turning your face away and settling better inside the jacket.
the rest of the night was filled with small talk, clumsy touches, and without you noticing, the sun rose on the horizon, making you realize that was also your first night away from home. for a few minutes, jake had dozed off by your side, the wavy locks falling perfectly over the sculpted face, his chest rising and falling peacefully, reminding her that he had rescued and sheltered her.
that was the problem, jake made it seem good to go against everything she knew.
***
"submit yourselves to god; resist the devil, and he will flee from you. do not let yourselves fall into temptation, my children. the enemy is always lurking looking for openings, especially in those of weak heart" the pastor spoke, the bible near his chest while he walked from one side to the other, but your head was far away. you were outside the church, sitting on the pickup with the peeling hood, stained pants and denim jacket.
when was it like this anyway?
jake sim was lean and sneaky. accompanying you every morning to work on foot - with an arm that wrapped your shoulders and a mouth that whispered idiotic things just to make you laugh -, picking you up and suddenly changing the path to some place you didn't yet know, whether it was a bridge with a beautiful view or some field. poking your shoulder when he passed by you just to see you looking for him while he moved away with a playful smile on his lips. he also threw stones at your window at night when you were about to sleep, and as soon as you looked he made a gesture with his hand calling you to come down in secret, without your father knowing.
the kisses and experimental touches were becoming more and more urgent. your cheeks burned every time he got excited and brought his mouth down to your neck, whispering how much your scent drove him crazy.
it was even worse when he grabbed your waist tightly, or pressed you against some surface - usually the small room where he was staying, at the back of the church, right after the sermon ended. but, he never went beyond, sometimes stopping when both were altered and breathless from making out, with hands clinging to the barriers of clothes or to the hair of each other's napes.
little by little the questions started to get more intimate... he no longer wanted to know about your favorite things, but about what you were curious about, or how much you liked his kisses, or even how much you were willing to go with him.
god, and you were.
you bit your lip, eyes widening as you noticed what you were thinking inside the church.
when your eyes returned to the room your father stared at you firmly for a few brief seconds before returning to talk.
you had even asked your former friend lisa what you should do days ago - during the youth group’s pause; anything that would make you stop incessantly thinking about the outsider boy.
both had talked under the stairs in a whispered tone that could only be interpreted looking eye to eye: "even the greatest of sins god is willing to forgive if you are really sorry" the girl told you, staring with an impartial warmth. "that's what torments me. when i commit this sin, i don't feel bad... i feel good. better than i have ever been" had been your answer.
how could you feel sorry?
the moment the bells rang, your feet firmed on the ground, getting up hurriedly and going to help with the organization as always. books put away, candles extinguished, and this time you even managed to leave along with the other faithful who crowded near the exit, talking and saying goodbye, it was when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you from among the crowd to the side of the church. jake looked around before holding your cheek and depositing a loud smooch on your mouth, taking a little note and putting it in the palm of your hand before winking and leaving without saying more.
you gave a breathy smile, feeling like a fool. your shoes brushing against each other while opening the yellowish paper to find his handwriting.
"no work tomorrow. we have a date. meet me at 10am, you know where", with a hurried heart scribble adorning the upper corner of the post-it.
he was so secretive and unpredictable, making your belly vibrate with so many butterflies. anyway, you ran home to call marie's phone and warn her about a persistent pain in the wrist that would prevent you from working the next morning.
***
the sound of closet doors was the only noise to be heard throughout the second floor at that hour of the morning. you slipped into your white skirt and donned the blouse with romantic sleeves before stepping into your heavy shoes over your socks. your hair remained loose and your backpack was slung on in a hurry before you left the room and headed down the stairs, running into your father halfway down.
"haven't you left for work yet?" he asked, stopping in his tracks and furrowing his brow.
"i’m late today... i’m on my way!" you dodged his body and finished the descent, heading toward the door to leave.
you couldn't allow yourself to be caught, and you knew he would look out the window for at least a full minute, which made you walk slowly, mentally counting to sixty so that the steps heading down the street would suddenly change direction, crossing from one sidewalk to the other, leading you to the back of the church where the pickup truck was parked.
when you opened the passenger door to get in, jake met you with a smile, unable to help but notice you had dressed up, letting you fasten your belt and adjust your shoulders and posture in the seat, oblivious to how he watched you, until you weren't anymore and turned to him.
"what?"
he bit his lip. "you look pretty" he replied sincerely, basking in your flushed cheeks and the way you shyly looked away. he started the engine and shifted into gear before pulling away.
"where are you taking me?" you asked as the landscape outside the window gradually changed. he had taken a road that passed through several fenced pastures - some with animals, others with trees, and even those that held nothing but a green vastness of grass.
"you're so curious. i wanted it to be a surprise" he said laughingly, eyes never leaving the road.
"that's not fair... you're always doing that" you retorted, though you weren't truly bothered.
"just know you're going to like it, hm?" you nodded, fiddling with one of the buttons on your blouse.
when they were about 3 minutes away from arriving, jake told you to close your eyes, grumbling playfully when you tried to cheat by squinting through your fingers. when he whispered softly that he really wanted to make it a surprise, you stopped teasing and kept your hands over your eyes until the car was parked and he said you could open them.
and even so, when jake spoke and your eyes opened, it was impossible to believe.
from inside, the passenger window - slightly fogged and covered by a thin layer of road dust - framed the flowery field like an old, faded painting. the landscape unfolded in waves of moss-green and soft hues of lavender and white. as the engine cooled, the high sun poured a radiant light over the vast space, turning the rows of pine trees in the distance into dark green silhouettes against the blue sky.
it was beautiful, one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. jake laughed at how you suddenly stared at him.
"how did you find this place?" you asked before putting your hand on the handle and opening the door to get out. the soft grass cushioned your weight, making it feel like you were stepping on a thin quilted layer. you bit your lip with a childish giggle and looked around. there were some fences toward the side the truck had passed, indicating the property likely had an owner.
"i came here to fish one day" he said, passing by you to get something from the truck bed.
you took a few steps and crouched down, looking at the colorful flowers more closely. so beautiful that you were afraid to touch them and end up ruining them. "i prepared something for us today..." you heard him and turned to see what he was carrying: a blanket and a basket, making you furrow your brow in amusement.
"what is this?" you stood up and went over.
"well, you said you'd never had a picnic, so..." jake shrugged, playing it cool, even though he was hoping for the surprise to be good.
he did everything, from finding a spot to spread the blanket to taking several jars of fruit, bread, and sweets out of the basket, looking your way every now and then as you followed him with your hands behind your back and a curious expression. it was still so unbelievable that jake was even there, that he wanted to get to know you, or fulfill your wishes. he didn't belong in that place - the free way he carried himself, the hair falling over his eyes, the tanned skin, the calloused hands - he stood out from everything and everyone, a natural attraction, almost as if you were tempted to look at him and desire him.
you smiled compassionately before kneeling beside him and touching his face, making jake stop, turn to you, and touch your waist.
"is everything okay? did you like it? you can tell me if you didn't, i need to know..."
you didn't answer with words, but held the back of his neck and leaned in to seal the older boy's full lips, enjoying the warmth and softness for a few seconds, catching jake off guard as it was the first time you had initiated something like that.
he had a funny look on his face when you pulled apart, like someone who had just discovered a funny secret. "i really like it, thank you" you whispered, and he stole one more little kiss before pulling you to sit on his lap, proceeding to show you everything he had brought: strawberries, pancakes with honey, a bottle of coffee.
***
time by his side seemed to flow in a different way, a soft, warm current that carried you without you feeling the need to fight it; or perhaps, you were ignoring your internalized morality, because living was more important. there, in the flowery field with the sound of the stream in the distance, the world outside was a pale memory you didn't miss at all. you surrendered with an ease that never failed to scare you, but jake sim's touch was a constant invitation to simply be.
what had started as light play, between laughter and distracted touches while eating, shifted in intensity when his body ended up over yours on the picnic blanket; he had a hand on each side of your face, avoiding letting his weight fall on you, and his eyes minutely searched your expressions to know if it was time.
the seconds in which you just looked at each other were a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of birds and the wind blowing freely. jake leaned in, as a test, and began to kiss you slowly - an almost lazy affection for a day like that, exploring your lips without haste, without the urgency of excitement. he nibbled on your bottom lip and whispered against the sensitive skin how good your mouth tasted.
but the rhythm changed as you reacted. your short gasps and the way your small hands sought the back of his neck once more, pulling him closer, began wearing down the self-control he was trying to maintain. his hands moved up, outlining your waist and messing with your clothes, his thumbs tracing the path of your protruding ribs just below the curve of your breasts, while your legs tangled together, seeking more contact, more heat.
the mood was cut sharply by a dry sound.
heavy steps against the earth, the violent rustling of vegetation, and a sharp animal grunt of pain.
you both stopped.
jake froze with his lips still brushing the skin of your collarbone where he had been licking just before, while your eyes widened, your heart racing now for a completely different reason than the second before.
from behind one of the nearby bushes, the figure emerged suddenly, piercing eyes checking if you were a threat to its hunt... it wasn't the graceful red fox from children's books, but an animal with dirty caramel fur, rustic and opaque, eyes fixed on both of you as it crossed the field. its snout was stained a bright red, contrasting with the body of a small white rabbit it carried clenched between its teeth; the small animal still spasmed, an agonizing reflex movement that made blood run even more down the fox's jaw.
the scene was ugly, pitiless, and mortal. there, under the late afternoon sun and surrounded by flowers, nature displayed its carnivorous face, reminding you that life and death shared the same space - exactly like the innocence you tried to maintain and the desire jake awakened in you.
"don't be afraid" jake whispered, a side smile forming as he saw your jugular jump with the erratic heartbeat. "it's natural, it means the fox will manage to survive for a few more days... nothing more than that" and for some reason, he didn't seem to be talking only about the animals. the words didn't do their part in making you calmer; instead, you swallowed with difficulty, entering a complicated internal dissonance.
maybe god had ambiguous plans for certain creatures. maybe creation wasn't just about green pastures, miraculous healings, and benevolence, but about this silent, cruel gear that didn't ask before turning. you thought you weren't in a position to judge; after all, who were you to understand the logic behind survival? maybe these creatures had some idea of what their destinies would be, or maybe they were completely oblivious to it, living and dying without ever understanding why.
it was this perception of the frivolity of raw life that made your hair stand on end and your throat go dry. an existential dread creeping up your spine. the fragility of the kit was your own fragility. but jake remained there, his voice steady and his body still warm against yours, as if that carnage were merely the natural backdrop for what you were doing.
"it's okay to feel sad, though... but we can't interfere" he murmured, and the way he accepted it without looking away seemed, in a way, engaging, making you face him again with tearful eyes. "jake" you called, and he smiled, brushing the tip of his nose against your neck, moving up until he was staring back at you. "can we continue in the car?" the shy words left your trembling lips.
oh? he knew exactly what that was.
he understood that transition; it was the violence of nature, strange and inevitable, that, instigated carnal acts. it was the most primitive emotional escape, the one that seeks the warmth of life immediately after being confronted with the coldness of death. the type of surrender that is condemned by all doctrines, but is the only possible response to instinct.
even so, he didn't hesitate. jake held you in his lap with disconcerting ease, one of his large hands firm on your butt as he carried you to the truck, while you wrapped yourself around his torso.
with his free hand, he opened the door and tossed you into the front seat, onto that continuous leather upholstery that eliminated any barrier between you. as soon as he got in and closed the door, the silence of the cabin was broken by the sound of your small, skittish hands reaching for his face. you gripped his cheeks hard, pulling him into a kiss loaded with want, as if every second of waiting were torture.
the kisses were deep and dense. you both grumbled and gasped against each other's mouths, a duel of tongues and teeth taking place. when you sucked his full lower lip, jake felt a snap of urgency. he pulled away just enough to get rid of his jacket and shirt, one piece following the other, revealing the warm skin under the light filtered through the windows. you blushed, eyes trailing down slowly, leading your fingers in an almost experimental way across his six-pack, mapping the defined muscles before looking up to meet him.
the eye contact didn't last long before you went back to kissing in an animalistic and needy way. jake moved his lips down to your slender neck, sucking the skin with controlled strength, leaving reddish marks. his hands slid without haste but with intention, moving down your goosebump-covered arms, squeezing your thin waist and tracing your hips until they found their way under the linen skirt. the rough touch of his fingertips scratching your rounded thighs made your whole body tense.
suddenly, in an agile movement, he reversed positions. jake pulled you onto his lap, feeling the weight of your body on his, and parted his lips when you let out an innocent little moan that seemed to echo inside him, breaking what remained of his last gram of self-control. "fuck, babe, i swear i'm trying... trying so hard to take my time with you, but you're just so hot" he whispered against your shoulder, where the sleeve of your blouse had slipped down.
"it's okay... you don't have to right now... i want it too" his head was about to explode.
"say that again..." he asked, holding your chin and sliding his thumb across your lip.
"i want you."
jake felt an electric current through his own spine at the words, holding the back of your neck firmly and invading your mouth in a messy, lingering tongue kiss. his experienced hands unbuttoned your blouse and pushed the fabric open before helping you take it off immediately reaching for your soft skin, breasts held in the bra decorated with a bow.
he bit his lip before using a single finger to pull the cup down, finding your shy, peaked nipple there. his dark eyes, almost begging, stared at you and you nodded.
he captured the small point and sucked with intent, circling it with his tongue before sucking as if he wanted to draw something from it. he closed his eyes, concentrated on what he was doing, playing with the breast between his lips while one of his hands went to the clasp on your back to open it. when he felt the weight of the breast in his mouth, he became even more invested, hollowing his cheeks as he encompassed even more of the soft flesh around the areola.
when he let go of the nipple, it was red and completely wet, using his index finger to flick it while his mouth already moved toward the other. your low moans and the way your body shivered over his did nothing to help the erection jake had in the confines of his jeans. he bit the tip of the peak when you squeezed his shoulder and adjusted yourself in his lap, practically grinding there. he returned to your lips, but didn't kiss now.
"hmm more…" he asked softly and you swallowed, feeling feverish just looking at him. "w-what?" you asked confused, but furrowed your brow and looked down with a weakened expression when he guided your hips to grind.
"jake..."
"you're going to drive me crazy..." he gasped through gritted teeth.
jake helped you out of the skirt and his eyes stayed fixed on the panties you wore - they had some lace ruffles near the elastic and were completely transparent in the front, betraying how wet you were. "shit... look at this" he moved his hand there, pressing his thumb exactly where it seemed wettest, feeling your nails prick his shoulder. "do you even know what this means?" his eyebrows knit as he looked at you again, leaning his body until his lips were brushing your ear. "your body wants me so much it's preparing you to receive me... isn't that cute?" he licked your lobe.
but he couldn't just fuck you in the damn pickup; he might be whatever he was, but he still thought of your well-being - of the fact that you were virgin and delicate and that putting you against the dashboard while he stretched you with his cock wouldn't be the best of experiences... so the boy smiled wide, turning his head thinking. "have you ever touched yourself?" he questioned, keeping his voice low and engaging, waiting for you to deny it. "not even once? not even in the shower?"
"jake..." you pleaded, embarrassed; god, he really liked how your eyes got low and avoidant when you were cornered. he bit his bottom lip and tucked a strand of your hair that hung behind your ear, running his index finger down your jaw, neck, the space between your breasts... until he was near your lower abdomen.
"i want you to touch yourself for me..." he breathed, an order so soft it sounded like a request.
you stared at him lost, almost as if at a crossroads between accepting quickly and denying for fear of doing it wrong. "sshh, it's okay... i will guide you" and jake was making it so much harder.
your mind knew, even before you did, that it was wrong... he wasn't promised to you, you hadn't prayed together before, the pastor hadn't approved - or didn't know you were seeing each other this way - everything you shouldn't do or give in to... so why were you bringing your hand down there? why were your lips trembling when your fingers felt the moisture of the soaked fabric?
"uh uh... inside the panties" jake corrected, pulling the elastic of the undergarment so you could slide your hand inside. "describe what you're feeling for me..."
pressing your lips together, wavering and closing your eyelids trying to concentrate, your fingers wandered through your folds, feeling them slippery. there was the entrance, where a portion of lubrication literally wet your phalanges, and when it moved up... right there, hidden and sensitive, was your point of nerves, pulsing. "say it, baby..." jake implored, pressing his forehead to yours.
"i-it's soft... and squishy. and it's so hot, jake... please..." your eyes met his closely now. he gave a breathy smile.
"do you feel that spot?" he asked, ignoring your plea for help.
“y-yes"
"good... rub it for me... slowly" he almost whispered, pulling away from you again and looking down. if the sight of your flushed cheeks, peaked nipples, and contracting stomach didn't make him come in his own pants, he would be fine.
jake noticed when your posture became more restless, when your hips began to involuntarily seek more pressure. "now slide your fingers down slowly... it's so messy, right? you're a messy girl..." he said, his raspy voice being the only thread keeping you connected to reality. "try to put a finger inside."
as soon as the digit slipped into the damp slit, a loud, labored moan escaped your lips. in the next minute, the weight of reality crashed down on you; shame hit you like a punch and you tried to stop, withdrawing your hand while staring at him with tearful eyes, seeking some kind of exit from a situation so intimate, so embarrassing.
"did i say to stop?" his tone changed, becoming firmer, almost authoritative, clicking his tongue and letting a sliver of his impatience show through. before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, keeping your hand exactly where it was, preventing your escape. the eye contact was intense, unbreakable. "try putting a second one in..." he suggested, his voice laced with a risk that made your heart race wildly.
you pouted, feeling the unusual fullness, and slowly shook your head, your voice failing as you said it wouldn't fit, that it was too much for you... jake let out a low sss, throbbing inside his underwear. "that's because you're so tight, my love" he whispered against your ear. "go back to rubbing your little clit... a bit more strength now, hm? i promise it'll be good..." he ordered and, almost instantaneously, you obeyed.
the speed with which you followed the command, despite the shame and previous hesitation, made jake's blood boil. fuck, - like a trained little bitch, he thought - dark eyes fixed on the scene of your hand moving under his words. it was, without a doubt, one of the best things he had ever witnessed.
jake leaned over and once again captured one of your stiff peaks in his mouth, sucking noisily while his other hand squeezed the neglected one. you, on the other hand, strove to follow his orders, feeling your body react in a completely new way as you used two fingers to excite your clitoris, brushing your palm slightly against your pubis; which caused a soft, prickly sensation.
your eyes rolled back and your hips moved again by impulse, making the boy attentive as he purposefully raised his hips higher, letting not only the pressure of your fingers hit you, but also the firm elevation he had there.
the contained moans from before filled the pickup, becoming more drawn out, less controlled, and jake knew you would come at any moment... you were going to come from masturbating and grinding against him, holy shit. and when your small body spasmed several times in a row, jake let go of your breast and grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of your panties, hearing an audible groan from you. your erratic hips took a moment to stop, almost as if your arousal was enough to make them move alone.
you looked at him with literal tears in your eyes, puffing your cheeks slightly and grunting at the slightest movement.
"aawn... don't make that face. i know, i know... sshh" he hugged you slowly, stroking your hair and your back before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "you were so good to me...", and the words of affirmation were somehow enough to appease a void you had felt for a long time, making you sob as you nodded, allowing yourself to sink into his embrace.
***
living around jake was consuming you. it was a slow, silent process, like a tide that rises without warning until the sand beneath your feet completely disappears. he occupied you in such a way that your thoughts orbited the idea of him almost twenty-four hours a day; the memory of how he teased you, of how he left you waiting on the edge of something you didn't yet fully understand.
and in the quiet of your room, you thought that maybe he was right. maybe the guilt was yours for still being a virgin, for being this burden of glass he had to carry so carefully.
gradually, the pillars that supported your life began to give way. principles that were once non-negotiable now felt like clothes that no longer fit. at work, your attention wandered; in the church youth groups, the sacred vocabulary felt strange in your mouth. sunday services became short, rushed, while the time you spent alone, discovering your own body, increased.
you prayed less and touched yourself more. dreams became vivid, dense, and you woke up sweaty and aroused more often than you could - or wanted to - remember.
the pastor was the first to notice the spark in your eyes. then came the others. marie, your boss, commented on the change while you hummed, without realizing, a melody you had heard in his car during a drive. "you've been cheerful... different," marie said with a half-smile. although your body stiffened for a millisecond, you turned and smiled, nodding. "oh... what is it then? a boy?"
you felt the blood rush to your cheeks, but the answer came with a clarity that surprised you. "he's not a boy."
jake was a man, an idea, a new doctrine that you embraced with the same blind devotion with which you had worshiped god and the holy spirit all those years.
but the ecstasy didn't last forever.
on a thursday afternoon, upon arriving from work, the expectation of going up to your room and losing yourself in thought was cut like a razor wire. your father was sitting on the stairs, his dark silhouette against the dim light. "dad!" you exclaimed, your heart giving a troubled jolt.
"where did you leave your bible last?"
the direct and raw question tore through the atmosphere. time stopped for a few seconds; the breeze coming through the window seemed to blow out all the candles of your security and the evening sun no longer warmed the room of the townhouse.
"i-i always leave it on the dresser... when we get back from service on sunday... it's always there," you breathed, your voice small, feeling your brow furrow in an instinctive defense.
you should read it every day. without exception.
"right. and have you been talking to god every day?" he turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on yours, making the saliva go down heavy in your throat in an audible gulp.
"yes, dad," you nodded, averting your gaze to the floor.
he stood up. the heavy steps against the wood of the stairs echoed like sentences. a bitter, almost suffocating energy emanated from him as he walked toward you. you closed your eyes, stiffening your shoulders waiting for the impact of the slap you already knew, but it didn't come. instead, he stretched out his arm, taking the object that had been hidden behind him and shoved it against your chest, curling his lips in deep disgust.
"and why was your bible forgotten at church until this morning? can you answer me that?" you looked down. the heavy book, with its dark cover, seemed to burn in contact with your skin, as if the paper were on fire. your lips stayed parted, but no words came out. there was no answer. there was no excuse. "that's what i thought," your father breathed low.
the silence that followed between you and your father wasn't one of peace, but of a suffocating stagnation, where every second seemed to weigh pounds on your shoulders. he watched you with a cold pity, the kind the saints reserve for the damned before the pyre. "woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness" he quoted, his voice monotonous and deep echoing through the walls of the townhouse. "light cannot be given to the blind, daughter. you are too innocent to understand your own situation, to see the abyss that opened beneath your feet while you smiled."
he paused, lips narrowing into a line.
"he's already gone, for your information. left this morning. the church has been repaired, the bills have been paid... there's nothing for him to do here anyway."
your heart, which had been galloping, simply froze. air refused to pass through your throat, as if your lungs had turned to stone.
"what are you talking about?" you questioned him in a whisper, taking an instinctive step back, the bible still weighing between your fingers like a corpse.
"you know who i'm talking about. don't think you've been sneaky"
you shook your head, a frantic movement. brow furrowed, your mind screaming that it was a lie - not that he knew. damn it if he knew, actually. and before he could finish the sentence or utter any other judgment, you spun on your heels and rushed out of the house. the bible fell somewhere on the front lawn and your legs moved restlessly. you crossed the yard, invaded the street ignoring the cars and the asphalt under your feet, hurriedly crossing to the church grounds.
your lungs burned when you reached the small cabin in the back. in the last few weeks, jake had transformed that place. he had built a table with his own hands, installed lights that made the environment cozy, put up posters that spoke of a world you only knew through his eyes. there were shelves full of books and a closet... the closet he filled with his jackets.
but when you flung the small door open, the emptiness hit you like a physical punch.
everything was clean. impersonal. not a single trace of him remained; not a strand of hair, not the smell of mint and leather, nothing. you flipped the lights on frantically, hands trembling as you searched under the perfectly made bed, looking in the corners, on top of the furniture... seeking any sign, a note, a forgotten game token, anything that proved your father was just trying to scare you. you checked the small bathroom and only saw the shower curtains pushed to the corner, the bathtub dry underneath.
the little room held only the parish toolbox, a few boards leaning against the wall, and a small bench. the space he had built to live in had been dismantled as if it had never existed. it was exactly as you had asked in your prayers when you first met him... it was exactly what you had said in the sensitive words you prayed those nights, and now you blamed yourself because, of all your requests, god had chosen that one to fulfill. "n-no...", the crying that was forming, filling your eyes with tears and making your cheeks turn red, broke loose and you sat on the bed that held only the thin mattress.
you brought both hands to your neck as a long, drawn-out, tearful guttural scream left you, feeling your vision blur as tears began to stream down your face. maybe this was the punishment for sinning, for not following the rules, for being a deviant soul... and it hurt so, so much... even when you tried to breathe properly, hunching over with your chest burning and crying even more, copiously.
but suddenly, the pain of loss was replaced by an incandescent rage, something that boiled in your blood and transformed you into someone else, someone irrational and fierce. you stood up and with all the strength you had in your being, you went back breathless to the house, invading the living room where your father was still waiting for you.
you lunged at him like a wounded animal. possessed, you tried to scratch his face, fingers curved into claws. your father grabbed you by the shoulders tightly, trying to contain the explosion of fury emanating from you, a strength you never knew you possessed.
"i hate you! what did you do! you damn man! i hate you!", the words came out choked, yelled.
"you were being consumed by evil! it was for the best!" he growled, his voice trying to overcome your screams and his strong arms holding your thin wrists. you were no longer the obedient daughter. you grunted, the sound coming from deep in your throat, a primitive noise of pain and hate.
"you sent him away! it's your fault! yours!" you screamed, fighting against his grip, the world collapsing while jake was the only thing that could save you.
"look at you, daughter, look at how you are. do you think this is normal? do you think god would approve of something like this?" he questioned, and the mention of divinity only left you more unhinged.
"stop talking about that! i don't care anymore! i hate all of it! i never truly liked it..! god, angels... i don't want any of it anymore! you took everything i wanted! everything! i hate you!", and as the words were uttered, hate gave way to sorrow and your knees buckled, making your body collapse to the floor, hitting your knees on the floorboards.
when the pastor let you go, your wrists fell as if they were heavy, limp sacks beside your hunched body that was still crying, making the drops of salt water wet the wooden floor below you. he was astounded, horrified. your father took a step back, averting his eyes for a few seconds as he himself had difficulty dealing with watery eyes, running his hand over his temple before sighing.
"i feel sorry for you... i fear you are unpunishable... perhaps, there truly is no place for you beside the lord" the bitter words cut his throat before he walked away with long strides.
***
how many days had passed?
three? five? ten?
you didn't know. your room remained the same, the house remained the same, and that was all you had been seeing since then. refusing to go on with your monotonous routine. too guilty to set foot outside the house, afraid of how they would look at you, what they would think, in that damn town of five thousand people.
and you were wrong before; it wasn't jake's presence that corrupted you - your own inner demons did that. you didn't fit salvation either way.
sometimes, your father would come to call you at the door, receiving only the sweet sound of your silence from the other side as an answer. you took your baths and ate when he wasn't around or when you knew he was going to sleep. if you were wrong and if god judged you for it, then so be it... let him watch while you worship your own ruin.
the night was terribly calm.
lying on the floor, staring at the beige ceiling of the room didn't help sleep come any faster. out of muscle memory, you made the sign of the cross over your chest, like someone about to pray, but stopped halfway. who would hear your prayers? when you had decided it was better to die surrounded by the life that pleased you than to care for what should be the purest of vessels for your soul. then you turned to your side, feeling the hard floor beneath you and huffing.
you closed your eyes and tried to count. tried not to think about anything. tried to cover your face with the pillow. but it didn't work.
when the muffled sound of something scratching the glass began, you didn't give it any importance; the wind, a dry branch, or maybe just your mind playing tricks in the middle of exhaustion. but the persistent, sharp, and rhythmic taps like small hailstones cut through the silence until the annoyance overcame the inertia.
you stood up, bare feet feeling the cold floor, and walked to the window where the bluish moonlight bathed the windowsill.
looking down, the world seemed to regain its colors in a single second. jake was there. real, solid, wearing jeans and that flannel shirt that seemed to carry all the comfort your father's townhouse had denied you in recent days. he smiled when he saw you, the arm that had just thrown the last pebble coming down slowly. you opened the glass in a desperate movement, the cold night air invading the room.
"what..?" the whisper came out raspy, loaded with a disbelief that bordered on ecstasy.
"missed me, church girl?" he asked with a smirk, moistening his lips afterward, and your nod was enough to set him in motion.
with agility, he wrapped his hand in an old cloth and climbed the tree trunk beside the house. every movement of his was precise, the strength of his arms lifting him to the second floor until he braced himself on his knee and jumped inside, landing on the carpet with a nasal laugh, narrowly missing the lamp.
you were stunned.
your eyes shone in the dark, fixed on him as if jake were a divine apparition in the midst of your private purgatory. he brushed the dust off his clothes and turned his face slightly, opening his arms in a silent invitation.
he mapped you there: the thin and transparent nightgown that molded your breasts but fell loose over your hips, the rosary of dark beads resting on your exposed collarbones, and your faltering feet.
when you finally took the step forward, he pulled you hard, crushing you against his chest, against the smell of the outdoors and freedom he exhaled. jake noticed the change in your countenance milliseconds before you hid your face in his chest. the emptiness of the last few days tried to turn into crying, but your eyes were dry, exhausted from so much fighting.
"i'm sorry for not writing a note... your father was really demanding when he came to me that day" he said softly against the top of your head, his fingers getting lost in your hair in a protective caress. "was he very hard on you?"
you shook your head against his chest, a quick, almost automatic movement. jake felt the lie vibrate in your body. you really were a terrible liar, but for him, that silence said much more than any words about what you had faced since he was forced to leave.
and the boy pondered before holding your face and pulling you away just so your eyes could meet. "come with me"
your lips parted and you looked down, lost, bringing your thin fingers to the buttons of his shirt. "i don't... i don't deserve you, jake...", your head shook and your laugh was weak, reluctant.
"what is that?" he knit his brows and shook his head, holding your chin and making you look at him again.
"god hates me. he will punish me and punish anyone who tries to help me... and i don't want that for you" your voice came out choked, but he didn't let go, pressing his mouth into a line and hardening his expression.
"i know you might think that now... because that's all you know, but there is nothing to punish you... you didn't do anything wrong" he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "and even if he does... i don't care" he shrugged, running his tongue along his cheek. "i've been punished since the day i was born, i can't worry about one more day". and once again, you realized you didn't know jake sim, or his story, where he came from, or what his past was, but you loved him for what he showed now. "so come with me. we'll move near your college, get a job, and you decide what to do about this" he brought his thumb to the pendant of the necklace, pressing it.
you disentangled yourself from him delicately. took a few steps back and turned around, your bare feet sinking into the carpet as your eyes scanned the room. the bedroom suddenly felt strange; the dull walls, the heavy and impersonal wooden furniture where you had grown up, hidden, and lately, withered away.
a shiver ran down your arms and you hugged yourself, feeling the weight of that decision crush your chest.
jake didn’t leave you alone for long. he approached from behind, steps silent, and wrapped his arms around your waist with that firmness only he possessed. he tucked his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling the soft, natural scent of your skin, as if memorizing your essence. "i promise to take care of you... while you discover the world, the landscapes, the life..." he hissed, his warm breath brushing against your sensitive skin and sending electric jolts down your spine.
and you shrunk slightly against him, a reflex of someone still not used to such unconditional affection. jake smiled against your neck, noticing your gradual surrender.
"let me save you"
the phrase made your heart skip a beat. it ached in a deep way, the kind of pain that tears away what was left of your old identity to make room for something new. you remained still, feeling only the beat of his heart against your back, until you finally nodded. turning to him, a light and trembling smile appeared on your lips.
"yes?" he asked, just to hear the confirmation from you.
jake held you and sealed your lips in a short kiss, but one loaded with a victorious urgency.
"you need to pack your things, we’re leaving today."
"now?" your eyebrows shot up.
"yes, now"
there was no time for hesitation. jake moved through the room with practical efficiency, helping you find a large backpack in the back of your closet and dropping it on the floor with a dull thud. he guided you to choose practical clothes and, especially, something warm to face the biting cold of the road that awaited you both.
while you looked for what to take, he helped gather small fragments of your life - a few photos and personal belongings - which were kept in a small box and carefully tucked into the backpack's outer pocket.
the rest you did alone, in an almost ritualistic silence. you folded each piece of clothing with care, feeling the weight of every choice, while jake settled onto your bed. he stretched out one leg and leaned his torso against the headboard - resting one arm behind his head - watching your every move. his gaze was attentive, calm, but charged with anticipation.
until you stopped...
and you stopped just as you were about to change your clothes... about to slip a sleeve of the nightgown you were wearing off your shoulder. knowing his eyes were on you and that he would watch you undress.
jake licked his lower lip, clicking his jaw slightly, watching you do one side and then the other, very slowly. the fabric slid down your body, pooling around your feet so that all that remained was your underwear. the boy's dark eyes outlined your curves, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen some of them before, but not all at once; never.
you waited, looking over your shoulder, and he understood, standing up and approaching you.
"do you want help?" he whispered, his body so close to your small frame that you felt his heat radiating.
"yes..." you nodded and he bit his lip.
"where do you need my help?" jake questioned, still serene... wanting to know what your real intentions were.
that was when you sought out one of his thick wrists, holding it calmly and guiding his hand to one of your perky breasts, which he palmed as soon as he felt the soft flesh beneath.
jake gave a small smile but composed himself. "you know you tease me when you do these things... don't you?" he asked softly, just leaning forward, making both bodies brush against each other, his mouth close to your earlobe.
"i'm not teasing now" you replied, sounding a bit more decisive.
"know i stopped all the other times, but i wouldn't stop this time..." he warned, trying to catch any hesitation from you, but there was none; you kept holding his wrist there, breathing calmly... he was forced to close his eyes and sigh, restraining himself. "if you really want this, use your words..." he whispered, placing a brief kiss below your ear.
"jake, please..." you began... but it was hard to find the words.
"yes? i'm listening," he wanted to hear it.
"make me yours. completely" your voice came out hoarse.
and he didn't take long to comply with your request, sliding his hand from your breast to your neck, making you turn your face so he could take your mouth in a hungry kiss; saved up since the first day he saw you in the front row of the church pews, waiting for your father to finish his sermons. his lips, full and plump, swallowing and molding yours while he held you beneath your breasts with his other strong arm. jake pulled you, literally dragging your feet across the floor until you were leaning over the dresser.
your mouths broke apart and he flattened his hand against your back, feeling the small bones of your spine and pushing you to bend further.
"bend over f’me..." he commanded, analyzing the angle; the contrast between him still dressed and you exposed making you look smaller and more breakable.
you had your hands on either side of your body and your cheek pressed against the surface of the furniture while your hips remained arched. his large hands went straight to that region, holding firm. "you’re so beautiful..." he leaned over and kissed your hips. how had he held back for so long? "stay still like that"
jake got on his knees right behind you, caressing your soft thighs before wrapping his hands around them carefully.
his long fingers gripped the waistband of your panties, sliding the fabric down slowly until it was pooling at your heels. his eyes followed the movement and went back up, now seeing your sex pressed together, so pink and barely used... he spread your legs apart, watching as your pussy decompressed, feeling his mouth water.
his tongue reached your womanhood next. it was hot, and he licked from bottom to top, catching all the places where you seemed to need him most. you whimpered and tried to lift your torso to look, feeling a stinging slap on one of your butt cheeks.
"is that staying still for you?" the boy asked muffled - making you drop your face until it was pressed against the dresser again - before sinking his tongue into your slit, feeling you getting wetter and wetter.
fingertips wandered over your legs, scratching your skin as if feeling braille, reading you completely, discovering desires and wants you had hidden.
jake opened his mouth wider, latching his pretty lips around your pussy before sucking noisily, making your small folds catch pressure there, leaving your eyes rolling back. you felt so dirty. it was terrible that you liked feeling his mouth on your body so much, terrible that your body responded so well. "j-jake..." you whimpered softly, looking for something to hold onto.
he, however, was more concerned with making you slippery enough. it was about that, wasn't it? about being able to take him when the time came. he knew it was and despite being afraid, you were more curious. when the sim's tongue penetrated your tight cavity, a grunt escaped you, and as soon as jake forced a digit inside as well, your fingers tightened against the corners of the wooden furniture; your knuckles turning white and your toes curling.
he gave a breathy smile, parting his lips as he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself. "look at how you’re squeezing a single finger... fuck, your pussy is going to be so full with my cock" the dirty words echoed low through the room, entering your ears and making you moan more and more. jake began to pump his finger, sliding his tongue down to wrap it around your clitoris meanwhile, playing with the spot like it was candy.
you shook your head - divided between the urge to keep being good or finish losing yourself - trembling and standing on your tiptoes as your muscles tensed. he forced another thick finger into you as the squelches of your entrance grew louder, making you grit your teeth and let out a drawn-out sound. "sshh, you don't want to wake up the preacher, do you?" he mocked, knowing it was almost impossible not to make a sound with the way he was touching you.
and before you could unravel, he stopped, suddenly, standing up and grabbing you by the shoulder to pull your body back and press it against his once more. his mouth traveled over your shoulders, kissing your neck and sucking the skin in visible places now, leaving marks and making your legs weak, needing to double the strength with which he kept you upright.
the boy turned you around and pulled your thighs so you could climb into his lap, walking with you to the bed and tossing you into the center of it.
you watched as jake took off his clothes, biting your lip hard while he deliberately unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants before kicking the garment away. and when he was left only in his underwear... damn, he was marked. the thick outline in the thin fabric making you doubt if he would fit before you looked at him. "speak your mind, little one..." he asked, mischievous, sliding his hands over your thighs as he positioned himself between them.
"w-what if it is too big?" your voice crackled, making him let out a brief chuckle. "then i would have to go slow... until you get used to the size..." he replied, leaning over your body, maintaining a smirk and eye contact, making your heart beat fast and your body burn. your face contorted with shame and your free hand flew to cover his eyes with a muffled grunt. "d-don't look at me like that..." you asked, affected, and he laughed again, enjoying himself.
jake held your wrist and unhurriedly moved your hand away, bringing it to his lips and kissing the whole palm, before holding it firmer and licking slowly, with a flat tongue, staring at you with eyes clouded with desire. "i can't, you're too cute..." he slid his tongue to the softest part of your palm and sucked just as he had done with your cunny earlier, stretching the warm muscle between your digits and passing between them too. when your body softened again, he let go of your hand and stood erect, looking down at you - your hair spread across the sheet, your breathing uneven, folds glistening with the mixture of his saliva and your arousal. "are you ready?" his tone was low and sensual.
you nodded, watching the older boy take his throbbing member out of his underwear. it hit, hard, against his lower abdomen, the veins protruding and the pink head swollen and leaking pre-cum.
he held the base, forcing his cock down and rubbing it against your mound in a provocative back-and-forth. god, you were so small... maybe you really should be afraid.
jake held one of your thighs, forcing your knee back almost near your shoulder, making more room for him, and guided his swollen head to your virgin entrance. "breathe in, baby... relax a bit..." he whispered as he forced his entry there.
jake advanced with agonizing slowness, feeling every millimeter of resistance your body offered. he was focused, his dark eyes fixed on the point where his flesh lost itself in your tight interiors; he watched, almost hypnotized, as the sensitive skin stretched to its limit to accommodate his thickness.
a whimpery gasp escaped the boy's lips. it had been so long since he felt something squeeze him that way, as if every fiber of you were trying to push him out and hug him at the same time.
he hissed softly, a mixture of pain and extreme pleasure, before leaning down again to capture your mouth, muffling the whimpers you let out as you felt the inevitable stretching. you were breathless, your chest rising and falling frantically. your hands, restless and desperate for a point of support, squeezed his arms which pinned you to the bed, your nails scratching the warm skin before sliding down your own breasts, squeezing them in a reflex of agony and ecstasy.
"it's too much...nng i can't!" you protested through gritted teeth, your voice choked.
"of course you can... you're being so good..." he replied, his tone of voice so intoxicating it numbed you.
the compliment made you throw your head back, small tears of pain and effort accumulating in the corner of your eyes as you felt his weight fill every empty space that remained in you. when jake finally buried himself completely, he let out a raspy grunt, biting his own lower lip as a few drops of sweat broke out on his forehead. "fu-ck, you squeeze me so well... so good, my love..." he whispered, his voice failing.
he tried to move his hips, a short and experimental movement, and felt your nails dig hard into his biceps in response to the new surge of sensations. jake stopped for a moment, his face close to yours, seeking your eyes reassuringly. "just breathe, hm? don't think too much..." he started talking to you, his soft voice acting like an anchor in the middle of the storm. "the hardest part is over... can you do this for me?"
the way he asked, turning that surrender into a favor for him, made the pain of being devirginated start to be swallowed by an even greater need: that of satisfying him, of being exactly what he wanted you to be. which made you nod breathlessly and bring your fingers to your swollen clitoris and rub it - in slow circular motions, as he had taught before - closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel bit by bit how the stinging became something more bearable, almost good... "there's my good girl" he said with a little smile after watching the act.
every time you got wetter and less tense, you could feel his cock going deeper and deeper, sliding out and coming back in with jake's full weight in every thrust.
you could even feel your lower abdomen bulging, parting your lips at the sight you had when you looked down to where your bodies met - the large cock, and your small, swollen lips sliding along the length of it. your moans became more spontaneous, and gradually your body began to give small signs it would give in.
jake saw you arch when he thrust harder, felt your nails scratch his back when he laid his body over yours, incredibly deep, making the head of his cock hit your internal wall.
but it was when he buried his face in your neck to suck the flesh and vent some of the pressure he felt, that you looked up.
there, above your bed, the crucifix.
your eyes clouded with growing pleasure and your thoughts far away, no longer able to process the guilt you had carried all that time, not while jake fucked you and made you a woman. this was the moment when you decided to have a new religion, one that began and ended with jake sim.
***
you leaned your head against the glass of the truck, feeling the constant vibration of the engine against your temple as you watched the landscape of your old life being left behind, turning into green and gray blurs. the radio played a soft melody, a sound that filled the comfortable silence that had settled between you.
occasionally, jake took one hand off the steering wheel and squeezed your thigh lightly - a possessive and calm touch, just to make sure you were still awake. you smiled, closing your eyes and feeling that, finally, you were safe.
not far from there, at a roadside station that smelled of diesel oil and burnt coffee, two old men shared a beer at a rustic, worn-out table. between them, an old battery-operated radio crackled, fighting against static to deliver the latest afternoon news.
"- suspect in the murder of four people remains at large" the announcer's voice cut through the hot air. "the suspect goes by the name of jaeyun sim. he has asian features, is approximately five-foot-nine, with brown eyes and hair. he is the primary suspect in the killing of his parents, his fiancée, and a witness at the scene of the crime four months ago. if you have any information call xxx or make an anonymous report".
✦ Summary — You’re the life of every party, the center of every group, and the girl everyone notices— but one day your best friend bets you can’t make the school’s resident nerd fall for you. Only problem? He’s brilliant, socially awkward, and completely oblivious… which works perfectly when you ask him to tutor you. What starts as a harmless bet turns into something neither of you saw coming. Could the fake love be real all this time?
✦ Genre — strangers to lovers (kind of), slow burn, university AU, romance, angst with happy ending, smut
✦ Word count — 29.6k
✦ Warnings — explicit sexual content (MDNI), penetrative sex, oral (male & female receiving), semi-public sex, multiple encounters, strong language, alcohol & smoking, party culture, emotional manipulation (bet trope), betrayal & trust issues, crying/emotional distress, brief social media harassment mention, heavy angst
✦ Now playing — Electric Love by BØRNS
✦ Authors note — Okay so this fic has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i finally sat down and wrote it. This got away from me (nearly 30k, oops) but i hope every word is worth it. Reader is intentionally flawed because the messiness is the point. Listen to the assigned song for this while you read, especially the middle parts, you’ll understand. As always comments, likes and reblogs mean the world. Enjoy the angst, you’re welcome in advance.💞
My masterlist
The bass thrums through your body like a second heartbeat, vibration crawling up from the soles of your heels and settling somewhere in your chest. You’re three drinks in—something sweet and deceptively strong that Mina mixed in the kitchen—and the party is exactly where you like it: chaotic, loud, and utterly yours.
You stand near the center of the living room, red solo cup dangling from your fingers, wearing a black crop top that barely qualifies as a shirt and a skirt short enough that you’d tugged it down twice on the walk over. Not that you care. You know you look good. The stares confirm it, the way eyes track you when you move through a room, the way conversations pause just slightly when you laugh.
“Babe!” Mina’s voice cuts through the music, and you turn to see her shoving her way through a cluster of drunk business majors, her own outfit just as devastating as yours—a tight red dress that clings in all the right places. She’s holding two fresh drinks, wearing that wild grin that always means trouble.
You take the cup she offers, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“I’m bored,” she announces, taking a long sip. “This party’s gotten stale. Everyone here is so predictable.”
You glance around. She’s not wrong. Same people, same drama, same bullshit. Heeseung is doing keg stands in the corner while Jake hypes him up, Jay is flirting with some girl from your Econ lecture, and everyone else is just going through the motions of a typical Friday night.
“So what do you wanna do?” you ask, leaning against the wall. “Leave?”
“No.” Mina’s eyes glitter with mischief. “I want to make a bet.”
You laugh, already intrigued. Mina’s bets are legendary—last semester she’d dared you to steal a traffic cone from campus security, and you’d done it just to see the look on her face. “I’m listening.”
She leans in close, her breath smelling like vodka and cherry chapstick. “See that guy over there?”
You follow her gaze across the room. At first, you don’t see who she’s talking about—there’s too many people packed into the space—but then the crowd shifts, and you spot him.
Park Sunghoon.
He’s standing near the bookshelf, looking deeply uncomfortable in a neat button-up shirt and glasses, holding what appears to be a bottle of water. His posture is stiff, like he’s not sure what to do with his hands, and he’s nodding along to something Heeseung is saying with this polite, awkward smile.
You know who he is, obviously. Everyone does, but for different reasons than they know you. Where you’re known for the parties, the chaos, the way you light up every room you enter, Sunghoon is known for being the biggest nerd on campus. Statistics and Data Science major, perfect GPA, the guy everyone goes to when they’re desperate for tutoring. You’ve seen him around—usually in the library, hunched over a laptop, or walking to class with his nose in a textbook.
“The nerd?” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What about him?”
“I bet you can’t make him fall for you.”
You almost choke on your drink. “What?”
Mina’s grin widens. “Come on. Look at him. He’s like… a different species. You really think someone like him would ever go for someone like you?”
There’s no malice in her words—this is just how you two operate, all teasing and challenge—but something about it pricks at your pride. “Someone like me?”
“You know what I mean. Party girl. Confident. Hot as fuck. He probably faints if a girl even looks at him.” She gestures toward Sunghoon, who is now adjusting his glasses and looking around like he’s searching for an escape route. “I don’t think he’s ever even been to a party before tonight. Heeseung probably dragged him here.”
You study Sunghoon more carefully. He’s taller than you expected, with sharp features that might actually be attractive if he didn’t look so perpetually nervous. His hair is neat, parted carefully, and his clothes scream “I iron my shirts on Sunday nights.”
“That’s the bet?” you ask, turning back to Mina. “Make him fall for me?”
“Yep. And I’m talking actual feelings. Not just him stuttering around you—I want him gone for you. Pining. Obsessed.”
You laugh, loud enough that a few people glance over. “That’s almost too easy.”
“Then you won’t mind putting money on it.” Mina pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Two hundred dollars says you can’t do it.”
Two hundred dollars. That’s not nothing—that’s a weekend trip, or a new pair of boots you’ve been eyeing, or enough drinks to not worry about your bank account for a month.
But more than that, it’s the principle. The idea that Mina thinks you can’t do something, that Park Sunghoon is somehow immune to you, needles at something deep and petty in your chest.
“You’re on,” you say, shaking her hand. “Two hundred dollars. And bragging rights.”
“Bragging rights,” Mina agrees, her grin turning wicked. “This is going to be so fun to watch.”
You drain the rest of your drink, feeling the alcohol warm and loose in your veins, and set the empty cup on the nearest surface. “How long do I have?”
“End of the semester,” Mina says. “That’s what, fourteen weeks? Should be plenty of time. If you’re as good as you think you are.”
“Please.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, already feeling the familiar thrill of a challenge. “I’ll have him obsessed with me by midterms.”
Mina cackles, pulling you into a quick hug. “God, I love you. Okay. Go work your magic.”
You glance back toward Sunghoon. He’s still standing with Heeseung and Jake now, looking like he’s barely contributing to the conversation. Jay has joined them too, and the contrast is almost funny—three effortlessly cool guys and one awkward nerd who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
The smart play would be to approach him tonight, start planting the seeds. But you’re tipsy and the party is loud, and you know first impressions matter. You need to do this right.
“Not tonight,” you say, turning back to Mina. “I need a strategy.”
“Ooh, strategic. I like it.”
“Monday,” you decide. “I’ll figure out his schedule, and I’ll make my move.”
Mina raises her fresh drink in a toast. “To the downfall of Park Sunghoon’s GPA and emotional stability.”
You clink your cup against hers, grinning. “He won’t know what hit him.”
Monday morning comes with a hangover you shake off in the shower and a determination that feels almost dangerous.
You dress carefully—a tight cropped sweater that shows a sliver of skin above your low-rise jeans, paired with heels that make your legs look longer. Your makeup is flawless, lips glossy, and you know you look good because your roommate actually stops mid-bite of her cereal to stare.
“Where are you going looking like that?” she asks.
“Library,” you say, grabbing your bag.
“The library?”
You just smile and head out.
You’d done your research last night, scrolling through social media and asking around until you had a decent sense of Sunghoon’s schedule. Turns out, he’s a creature of habit—every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he’s in the library from 9 AM to noon, tutoring students for credit. Something about needing volunteer hours for his degree, or maybe it’s for some honors society. You don’t really care about the why. You just need the when and where.
The library is quieter than usual, the Monday morning crowd sparse. You spot him almost immediately, sitting at one of the large tables near the windows, his laptop open and a stack of textbooks beside him. He’s alone right now, tapping away at his keyboard with the kind of focus that makes you think he’s probably forgotten the rest of the world exists.
You take a breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk over.
He doesn’t notice you at first. You have to actually stop in front of his table and clear your throat before he looks up, and when he does, his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses.
“Um,” he says, his voice soft and uncertain. “Hi?”
“Hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile. “You’re Park Sunghoon, right?”
“Uh. Yes?” He blinks up at you, clearly confused about why you’re talking to him. His gaze flickers down for just a second—taking in your outfit, probably—before snapping back to your face, his cheeks flushing pink.
Perfect.
“I heard you do tutoring,” you say, sliding into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. “For Statistics?”
“Oh.” His expression shifts slightly, relaxing into something more familiar. This is territory he knows. “Yeah, I do. Are you… do you need help with a class?”
“Desperately,” you lie, letting a little frustration creep into your voice. “I’m in STAT 400, and I’m completely lost. Like, I don’t even know where to start.”
STAT 400 is a class you could probably teach at this point—you’d aced it last semester—but he doesn’t need to know that.
Sunghoon nods, pulling out a notebook. “That’s a tough class. What specifically are you struggling with?”
You wave a hand vaguely. “Honestly? All of it. Probability distributions, hypothesis testing… I just can’t make it click, you know?”
He’s scribbling something down, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay. Yeah, I can definitely help with that. I tutor that class a lot, actually.”
“Really?” You lean forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I was seriously worried I was going to fail.”
His eyes flicker to you again, and you can see him trying very hard not to stare. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s fighting to keep his focus on his notebook.
“So, um,” he says, clearing his throat. “When works for you? I usually do sessions twice a week, an hour each.”
“Whatever works for you,” you say easily. “I’m pretty flexible.”
He checks his phone, scrolling through what looks like a calendar. “How about… Tuesdays and Thursdays? 5 PM?”
“Perfect.” You pull out your own phone, typing in the times. “Should I meet you here?”
“Yeah, here’s good.” He looks up at you, and for a moment, you’re struck by how dark his eyes are behind those glasses. “Can I get your name? For my schedule.”
You tell him, and he types it into his phone, his fingers quick and precise.
“Got it,” he says, offering you a small, polite smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and give him a little wave. “Thanks, Sunghoon.”
His blush deepens at the sound of his name, and you have to bite back a grin as you walk away. This is going to be easier than you thought.
You show up to the library on Tuesday at 4:55 PM, which is late enough to seem casual but early enough to seem eager. You’ve dressed down slightly from yesterday—a fitted long-sleeve shirt that still manages to show off your figure, paired with jeans that sit low on your hips. Still hot, but approachable. You’re playing a character here, and the character is a girl who’s struggling with statistics and needs help, not a girl who’s about to ruin someone’s life for two hundred dollars.
The guilt hasn’t hit yet. Right now, it’s still just a game.
Sunghoon is already at the same table by the windows, his laptop open and a thermos of what you assume is coffee beside him. He looks up when you approach, and you catch the tiniest flicker of surprise in his expression, like he half-expected you not to show.
“Hi,” you say, dropping your bag onto the table and sliding into the seat across from him.
“Hi.” He closes his laptop and pushes it aside, pulling out a notebook instead. “Ready to get started?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “Fair warning, I’m really bad at this.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and there’s something unexpectedly kind in his voice. “Everyone starts somewhere. Can you show me what you’re working on in class right now?”
You pull out your own notebook—you’d actually done some prep work last night, writing out problem sets from the STAT 400 syllabus you still have saved on your laptop. You’d deliberately gotten some of them wrong, made your handwriting a little messier than usual, added some confused notes in the margins. It has to look real.
Sunghoon takes the notebook and studies your work, his brow furrowing in concentration. His fingers tap against the edge of the paper, a nervous habit, and you notice that his nails are neatly trimmed, his hands surprisingly elegant for someone so awkward.
“Okay,” he says after a moment. “I see what’s happening here. You’re getting tripped up on the notation, I think. The concepts aren’t that complicated once you understand what the symbols actually mean.”
He flips to a blank page in your notebook and starts writing, his handwriting neat and precise. As he explains the basics of probability distributions, you force yourself to pay attention, nodding along and asking questions that someone who’s actually confused would ask.
“Does that make sense?” he asks after a few minutes, glancing up at you.
“I think so,” you say. “Can you go over that last part again?”
He does, patient and thorough, and you notice the way he relaxes slightly when he’s teaching. The nervousness fades, replaced by something that almost resembles confidence. This is where he’s comfortable—explaining things, breaking down complex ideas into manageable pieces.
It’s… not what you expected.
You’d thought this would be painful, sitting through tutoring sessions for a class you don’t need help with. But Sunghoon is actually a good teacher, and there’s something almost soothing about the way he talks through problems, his voice low and steady.
“Try this one,” he says, sliding the notebook back to you with a new problem written out.
You make a show of working through it, deliberately hesitating in places, second-guessing yourself. When you write down the final answer—which you know is correct—you look up at him uncertainly.
“Is that right?”
He checks your work, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”
The praise shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
“Really?” You let yourself sound surprised, pleased.
“Really. You’re getting it faster than you think.”
You beam at him, and his cheeks flush pink again. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat.
“Let’s do a few more,” he says.
The hour passes faster than you expected. By the time Sunghoon checks his phone and announces that your session is up, you’re almost disappointed.
“Same time Thursday?” he asks, packing up his things.
“Yeah, definitely.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re really good at this.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He ducks his head, and you catch the small smile on his face as he turns away.
As you walk out of the library, you pull out your phone and text Mina.
Session one: complete. He blushed like four times.
Her response is immediate: you’re evil. i love it.
Thursday’s session follows a similar pattern. You show up right on time, dressed in a crop top and high-waisted pants that make Sunghoon’s eyes widen for just a second before he forces his gaze back to his notebook. You work through more problems, ask more questions, let him guide you through concepts you already understand.
But this time, you start to push things slightly.
“God, I don’t know how you keep all of this straight in your head,” you say at one point, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The movement makes your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your stomach, and you don’t miss the way Sunghoon’s gaze flickers down before he quickly looks away.
“It’s just practice,” he says, his voice a little strained. “Once you do enough problems, it becomes automatic.”
“You must be so smart,” you say, propping your chin in your hand and looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. “Like, seriously. I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water in most of my classes, and you’re just… breezing through everything.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not that smart. I just work hard.”
“Don’t be modest.” You nudge his foot lightly under the table with yours, and he actually jumps a little. “You’re like, a genius. Everyone says so.”
“I’m really not,” he insists, but you can see the pleased flush creeping up his neck.
You let it drop, returning your attention to the problems in front of you, but you’ve planted the seed. Compliments, physical proximity, attention—these are the tools you know how to use.
Near the end of the session, as Sunghoon is explaining something about confidence intervals, you let your knee bump against his under the table. It’s brief, could be an accident, but you see the way he falters mid-sentence, his train of thought derailing completely.
“Sorry,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Where was I?”
“Confidence intervals,” you prompt, biting back a smile.
“Right. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and continues, but his voice is slightly shakier now.
When the session ends, you pack up slowly, deliberately taking your time.
“Hey,” you say as he’s closing his laptop. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you tutor? Like, I know it’s for credit or whatever, but you’re already so busy. Don’t you ever just… want a break?”
He seems surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I like helping people. And it’s good practice for me, too. Explaining things helps me understand them better.”
“That’s really nice,” you say, and you’re surprised to find that you actually mean it. “Most people wouldn’t go out of their way like that.”
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though.” You give him a warm smile. “Anyway. Thanks again. I actually feel like I might not fail this class now.”
“You’re not going to fail,” he says firmly. “You’re doing really well.”
Something about the conviction in his voice makes your chest tighten, but you push the feeling aside.
“See you next week,” you say, heading toward the exit.
As you leave, you glance back and catch him watching you. He looks away immediately, his face flushing, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that crosses your face.
This is almost too easy.
By the third week of tutoring, you’ve established a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 5 PM, the same table by the windows. Sunghoon is always there early, his materials already laid out, a thermos of coffee within reach. You’ve started to learn his habits—the way he taps his pen against the table when he’s thinking, the way he pushes his glasses up when he’s concentrating, the way he smiles when you get a problem right.
You’ve also started to push boundaries more deliberately.
You sit closer to him now, close enough that your arms brush when you’re both leaning over the same textbook. You ask him to show you how to work through problems on your laptop, which means he has to lean in close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his face inches from yours as he points at the screen.
He’s still nervous, still awkward, but he’s getting more comfortable with you. He makes eye contact more often, laughs at your jokes, occasionally offers comments that aren’t strictly about statistics.
“Are you going to the game on Saturday?” you ask during one session, glancing up from your notebook.
“Game?” He looks confused.
“The basketball game. Against State.”
“Oh. No, probably not. That’s not really my thing.”
“What is your thing?” you ask, genuinely curious despite yourself.
He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I like hiking, I guess. And I play chess online sometimes.”
“Hiking?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”
“Why not?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“I don’t know. You just seem like you’d rather be inside with a book.”
“I can like both,” he points out, and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or challenge.
“Fair enough.” You grin. “Maybe you should take me sometime. I could use the exercise.”
His eyes widen. “Oh. Uh. I mean, if you want. There’s a good trail about twenty minutes from campus—”
“I’m kidding,” you say quickly, laughing. “Can you imagine me hiking? I’d die.”
“Right.” He laughs too, but it sounds slightly forced. “Yeah.”
You almost feel bad for teasing him, but you push the feeling aside. This is the point—keep him off balance, make him think about you, wonder about you.
Later in the session, when you’re both bent over a particularly complicated problem, you reach out to point at something on the page. Your hand brushes against his, and you let it linger for just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“It’s fine,” he says, but his voice is tight, and when you glance at him, his jaw is clenched. Interesting.
After that session, as you’re walking back to your apartment, Mina calls.
“How’s Operation Nerd going?” she asks immediately.
“Good,” you say. “He’s definitely noticing me.”
“Noticing you, or noticing you?”
“Both, I think.” You push open the door to your building, nodding at a couple of girls you recognize from a party last weekend. “He’s still really awkward, but he’s warming up.”
“Have you guys hung out outside of tutoring yet?”
“No. I’m taking it slow.”
“Slow?” Mina sounds incredulous. “Babe, you have like eleven weeks left. You need to speed this up.”
“I know what I’m doing,” you say, climbing the stairs to your floor. “If I come on too strong, he’ll get suspicious. He’s not stupid.”
“Fine, fine. You’re the expert.” There’s a pause, and then: “Are you having fun, at least?”
The question catches you off guard. “What?”
“I mean, is this entertaining? Or is it just a chore?”
You think about the way Sunghoon’s face lights up when you get a problem right, the way he listens so intently when you talk, the way he’s slowly becoming less guarded around you.
“It’s fine,” you say eventually. “He’s not as boring as I thought he’d be.”
“High praise,” Mina says dryly. “Okay, well, keep me updated. I want all the details.”
After you hang up, you find yourself thinking about the question. Are you having fun?
The honest answer is yes. You are. And that should probably worry you more than it does.
The following Tuesday, something shifts.
You’re halfway through the session when Sunghoon’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns, and then looks at you apologetically.
“Sorry, do you mind if I take this? It’s my friend.”
“Go ahead,” you say, waving him off.
He steps away from the table, phone pressed to his ear, and you watch as his expression shifts from confused to annoyed to resigned. When he comes back, he’s running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly.
“Everything okay?” you ask.
“Yeah, sorry. That was Heeseung. He’s having people over tonight and wanted to make sure I’m coming.”
“Are you?”
“I guess. He’ll give me shit if I don’t.” Sunghoon sits back down, but he seems distracted now, his usual focus scattered.
“You don’t sound excited,” you observe.
“Parties aren’t really my scene,” he admits. “Too loud, too crowded. I usually just end up standing in a corner wishing I was home.”
You laugh. “Then why go?”
“Because Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are my friends, and they actually want me there. I think.” He says it like he’s not entirely sure, and something about that makes your chest ache.
“They definitely want you there,” you say. “Those guys don’t do pity invites.”
He looks at you, surprised. “You know them?”
“Everyone knows them. We run in similar circles.” You lean back in your chair, studying him. “How’d you end up friends with them, anyway? No offense, but you’re not exactly the typical crowd they hang out with.”
“We lived in the same dorm freshman year,” Sunghoon says. “Heeseung and I got paired as roommates, and Jake and Jay lived down the hall. They kind of… adopted me, I guess. I don’t really know why.”
“Maybe because you’re cool,” you suggest.
He snorts. “I’m definitely not cool.”
“You’re cool in your own way.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I’m a nerd.”
“Being a nerd isn’t a bad thing,” you say. And then, before you can think better of it: “I’ll be there tonight, probably. At Heeseung’s thing. Maybe I’ll see you.”
The rest of the session is slightly stilted, both of you distracted by the knowledge that you’ll be in the same place later, outside the safe confines of the library. When you pack up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Thanks. For saying that. About me being cool.”
You smile. “I meant it.”
And as you walk away, you realize with a start that you actually did.
Heeseung’s apartment is packed when you arrive just after ten, Mina in tow. The music is loud enough to make the walls vibrate, and the air is thick with the smell of beer and too many bodies in a small space.
“This is going to be good,” Mina says, already scanning the room. “Is your nerd here yet?”
“Don’t call him that,” you say automatically, and then catch yourself. Since when do you care?
Mina gives you a look but doesn’t comment. “Well? Do you see him?”
You crane your neck, looking over the crowd, and finally spot Sunghoon near the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt—the most casual you’ve ever seen him—and he’s talking to Jay, looking significantly less uncomfortable than you’d expected.
“There,” you say, nodding toward him.
“Oh my god, he’s actually kind of hot when he’s not dressed like someone’s dad,” Mina says.
She’s not wrong. Without the button-ups and the overly neat hair, Sunghoon looks… different. Younger. More relaxed. And yeah, hot.
“I’m going over,” you say.
“Good luck,” Mina calls after you, already veering off toward the makeshift bar.
You weave through the crowd, dodging drunk dancers and people shouting over the music. When you reach the kitchen, you tap Sunghoon on the shoulder.
He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you.
“You came,” he says, and he sounds genuinely happy about it.
“I said I might,” you reply, grinning. “Hi, Jay.”
Jay gives you an appreciative once-over—you’re wearing a tiny black dress that leaves very little to the imagination—and nods. “Hey. You two know each other?”
“Sunghoon’s my tutor,” you say.
“Tutor?” Jay looks at Sunghoon with mock suspicion. “You didn’t tell me you were tutoring hot girls.”
Sunghoon’s face goes red. “It’s not—she needed help with stats—”
“I’m just giving you shit,” Jay says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Jake. You two have fun.”
He disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the relative chaos of the kitchen.
“Want a drink?” you ask, already moving toward the counter where someone’s set up a chaotic array of bottles and mixers.
“I’m okay,” Sunghoon says, holding up a bottle of water.
“Of course you are.” You pour yourself something strong, turning back to him. “So. How are you surviving so far?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” he admits. “Maybe because you’re here.”
The comment catches you off guard. It’s surprisingly bold for him, and when you meet his eyes, there’s something there you haven’t seen before—a flicker of confidence, maybe, or just the tiniest bit of flirtation.
“Smooth,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.
He looks immediately mortified. “Sorry, that was—”
“I’m kidding. It was sweet.” You step closer to him, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “You should let yourself relax more often. You’re less uptight when you do.”
“I’m uptight?” He sounds offended.
“A little,” you tease. “But it’s part of your charm.”
Before he can respond, someone cranks the music even louder, and the kitchen suddenly floods with people trying to escape the living room. You’re jostled forward, and Sunghoon reaches out instinctively to steady you, his hands landing on your waist.
For a moment, you’re pressed against him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see the way his pupils dilate slightly behind his glasses.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go immediately.
“It’s okay,” you murmur.
The moment stretches, tension coiling between you, and you realize with a jolt that your heart is beating faster. Not because you’re playing a role, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it feels…
It feels good.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” he asks, his voice low.
You nod.
He takes your hand—his grip warm and surprisingly steady—and leads you out of the kitchen, through the crowd, and out onto the apartment’s small balcony. The noise fades to a dull roar as he slides the door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s just the two of you under the night sky.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking out at the campus spread below. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He stands beside you, close but not touching, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks.
“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.
“Sure.”
“Why did you come tonight? You said parties are your thing, so you probably had other options.”
You turn to look at him. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”
His breath catches. “Really?”
“Really.” You’re not sure if you’re lying anymore.
Sunghoon holds your gaze, and something shifts in the air between you. He takes a step closer, and your pulse spikes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly.
“Me too,” you whisper.
And when he smiles—a real, genuine smile that makes his whole face light up—you feel something crack open in your chest.
This was supposed to be simple. Easy. A game.
But standing here with him, the city lights glittering below and his hand just inches from yours on the railing, you’re starting to realize that you might be in over your head.
Sunghoon is already at your usual table, but today there’s something different. Instead of his typical setup of laptop and textbooks, there’s a white paper bag and two coffee cups.
“Hi,” he says when you approach, and he looks almost nervous. “I, uh. I brought coffee. And pastries. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope that’s okay.”
You stare at the cups, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in your chest. “You brought me coffee?”
“Yeah. You mentioned last week that you didn’t have time to grab any before our session, so I thought…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”
“It’s not weird,” you say softly, sliding into your seat. “It’s really sweet.”
His face lights up, and he pushes one of the cups toward you. “It’s a vanilla latte. But if you don’t like it, I can—”
“Vanilla latte is perfect.” You take a sip, and it’s exactly the right temperature, exactly the right sweetness. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”
“You’re welcome.” He’s smiling now, that soft genuine smile that makes your heart do stupid things.
The session proceeds normally—problem sets, explanations, the comfortable back-and-forth you’ve developed—but the coffee and pastries feel like something more. Like he’s trying to take care of you in his own quiet way.
Halfway through, while you’re working on a problem, Sunghoon speaks up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, not looking up from your notebook.
“Why economics?”
You pause, pen hovering over the page. “What?”
“Your major. Why did you choose economics?”
No one has asked you that in a long time. Most people just assume you picked it because it’s practical, or because you wanted something that would make money, or because you didn’t know what else to do.
“I like understanding how things work,” you say slowly. “Like, why people make the decisions they make. What drives markets, what causes crashes, all of that. It’s like… a puzzle, I guess. And I’m good at puzzles.”
Sunghoon is looking at you with this intense focus, like he’s genuinely interested in your answer. “That’s really cool.”
“Yeah?” You feel oddly vulnerable suddenly.
“Yeah. Most people just say it’s for the money.”
“I mean, the money doesn’t hurt,” you joke, but it falls flat.
“I get it, though,” he says. “That’s kind of why I like statistics. Everything can be understood if you have enough data. The world makes sense when you can quantify it.”
You find yourself smiling. “We’re more similar than I thought.”
“Is that surprising?”
“A little,” you admit. “I thought you’d be all… I don’t know. Textbooks and equations and no personality.”
He laughs, a real laugh that makes his eyes crinkle. “Wow. Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” You’re laughing too now. “I just meant—you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Boring? Uptight? But you’re actually…” You pause, searching for the right word. “You’re actually really easy to talk to.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “So are you.”
The moment hangs between you, charged with something you can’t quite name. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how easy it would be to just lean forward and—
Your phone buzzes, shattering the moment. It’s a text from Mina: party at sigma chi friday. you coming?
You type back a quick yeah probably and set your phone down, but the spell is broken. Sunghoon has already returned his attention to the textbook, his expression neutral.
The rest of the session passes normally, but something has changed. There’s a weight in the air now, a tension that wasn’t there before.
When you’re packing up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Are you doing anything this weekend?”
Your heart skips. “Why?”
“There’s this new exhibit at the art museum. Photography from conflict zones. I thought it might be interesting, and I was wondering if… if maybe you wanted to go? With me?”
He’s asking you on a date. Park Sunghoon is asking you on an actual date.
You should say yes. This is perfect for the bet—spending time together outside of tutoring, building a connection, making him fall harder.
But the thought of it makes your stomach twist with something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.
“I can’t this weekend,” you say, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. “I have plans with friends.”
“Oh.” He tries to hide his disappointment, but you can see it in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah,” you say. “Another time.”
As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, and you hate yourself a little bit.
Friday night comes, and you’re at the Sigma Chi house with Mina, three drinks deep and feeling reckless.
The party is packed, bodies pressed together in every room, music so loud you can feel it in your bones. You’re wearing your sluttiest dress—a tiny red thing that barely covers your ass—and you know you look good because you’ve been turning heads all night.
“There’s Jake,” Mina says, pointing toward the kitchen. “With Heeseung and Jay.”
“So?” you say, taking another sip of your drink.
“So, isn’t that Sunghoon’s friend group? Maybe he’s here.”
You scan the kitchen, but you don’t see Sunghoon anywhere. Just his three friends, laughing and drinking and looking effortlessly cool in a way Sunghoon never quite manages.
“I don’t think he’s here,” you say.
“Probably for the best,” Mina says. “You can actually have fun without worrying about the bet.”
But that’s the problem. You’re starting to realize that you have more fun with Sunghoon than without him.
You push the thought away and drain your drink. “I need another.”
The next hour is a blur of alcohol and dancing and the kind of mindless fun you usually thrive on. You dance with strangers, do shots with girls from your econ class, lose Mina somewhere in the crowd. And then Jake finds you.
“Hey,” he says, appearing at your elbow with that easy smile. “You look like you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” you say, and you realize you have to raise your voice to be heard over the music.
“Want to get some air? It’s hot as hell in here.”
You follow him out to the back porch, where it’s marginally quieter and cooler. There are a few other people out here, smoking and talking in low voices, but Jake leads you to a corner that’s relatively private.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking up at him. Jake is attractive in an obvious way—tall, athletic build, sharp jawline. The kind of guy you’d normally go for without thinking twice.
“I’ve seen you around,” Jake says, moving closer. “You’re hard to miss.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely.” His gaze drops to your lips, then back up. “You’re friends with Sunghoon, right?”
The mention of Sunghoon’s name sends a jolt through you. “He’s tutoring me.”
“That’s all?”
“What else would it be?”
Jake shrugs. “I don’t know. He talks about you a lot.”
Your heart stutters. “He does?”
“Yeah. He tries to be subtle about it, but it’s pretty obvious he’s into you.” Jake grins. “Can’t blame him.”
You should ask what Sunghoon says about you. You should care more about the implications.
But you’re drunk and Jake is hot and he’s leaning in, and when his lips meet yours, you don’t pull away.
The kiss is good—he knows what he’s doing, his hands confident on your waist—but it feels wrong somehow. Like you’re kissing the wrong person. When you break apart, Jake is smiling.
“Want to get out of here?”
“I—”
“There you are!”
You turn to see Mina stumbling out onto the porch, clearly wasted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to go. Now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m about to throw up and I need you to hold my hair.” She grabs your arm, pulling you away from Jake. “Sorry, Jake. Emergency.”
You let her drag you back through the party and out the front door, and it’s only when you’re halfway back to your apartment that you realize you’re relieved.
“Did I really interrupt something?” Mina asks, her words slurring slightly.
“Nothing important,” you say.
“Liar. That was Jake. He’s hot.”
“Yeah.”
“So why do you sound sad about it?”
You don’t have an answer.
Saturday morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and a feeling of vague dread that has nothing to do with the hangover.
You kissed Jake. Sunghoon’s friend. One of his only friends.
It shouldn’t matter. This is a bet. You’re not actually dating Sunghoon. You don’t owe him anything.
But the guilt sits heavy in your stomach anyway.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Sunghoon: Hey! I know you said you were busy this weekend, but if you have any free time tomorrow (Sunday), I’d love to show you that trail I mentioned. No pressure though!
You stare at the message for a long moment.
You should say no. You should keep your distance, maintain the boundaries of this fake tutoring relationship.
But instead, you type: Sure. What time?
His response is almost immediate: 10 AM? I can pick you up.
Sounds good.
You set your phone down and bury your face in your pillow, trying to ignore the voice in your head that’s asking what the hell you’re doing.
Sunday morning dawns clear and bright, and you find yourself actually putting effort into your outfit—athletic leggings, a fitted tank top, your hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Hiking clothes, but still cute.
Sunghoon picks you up at exactly 10 AM in a slightly beat-up Honda Civic that’s meticulously clean inside. He’s wearing athletic gear too, and without his glasses—he’s wearing contacts, he explains—he looks different. Younger. Even more attractive.
“You ready?” he asks as you buckle your seatbelt.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Fair warning, I haven’t hiked since high school.”
“It’s an easy trail,” he assures you. “More of a nature walk, really.”
The drive takes about twenty minutes, filled with easy conversation and music from a playlist that’s surprisingly good—indie rock mixed with some Korean R&B. You learn that Sunghoon is an only child, that he grew up in a small town, that his parents are both engineers and have very high expectations for him.
“Is that why you work so hard?” you ask. “Because of them?”
“Partly,” he admits. “But also because I don’t really know what else to do. School is the one thing I’m actually good at.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at lots of things.”
“Like what?”
“You’re a good teacher. You’re patient, you actually listen, you explain things in a way that makes sense. That’s a skill.”
He glances at you, surprised. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
When you arrive at the trailhead, it’s not crowded—just a few other cars in the small parking lot. Sunghoon grabs a backpack from the trunk, and you start walking.
He was right about it being an easy trail. The path is well-maintained and mostly flat, winding through trees that are just starting to show their fall colors. It’s beautiful in a quiet, understated way.
“I come here when I need to think,” Sunghoon says as you walk. “It’s peaceful.”
“What do you think about?”
“Everything. School, the future, whether I’m making the right choices.” He pauses. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this path that was decided for me, you know? Like, I’m going to graduate, get a good job, make my parents proud. But I’m not sure if it’s what I actually want.”
You’re surprised by the honesty. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” He looks at you. “What about you? Do you know what you want?”
The question catches you off guard. What do you want?
A month ago, you would have said you wanted to graduate, make money, have fun. Simple things.
But now, standing here with Sunghoon, you realize you don’t know anymore.
“I’m figuring it out,” you say finally.
You walk in comfortable silence for a while, and then Sunghoon leads you off the main path to a clearing that overlooks a small lake. The view is stunning—water glittering in the sunlight, trees reflected on the surface.
“Wow,” you breathe.
“Right?” He sits down on a large flat rock near the edge of the clearing, and you join him. “I found this spot last year. I don’t think many people know about it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulls out his backpack and produces two bottles of water and some trail mix. “Snack break.”
You laugh. “You really came prepared.”
“I try.”
As you sit there, eating trail mix and looking out at the lake, you feel something loosen in your chest. This is nice. Simple. Real.
“Can I tell you something?” Sunghoon says after a while.
“Of course.”
“I’m really glad you agreed to come today. I know tutoring is our thing, but I wanted…” He trails off, looking uncertain. “I wanted to spend time with you outside of that. As friends. Or, I don’t know. Whatever this is.”
Your heart is pounding. “Whatever this is?”
He turns to face you fully. “I like you. I know that’s probably obvious, and I’m sorry if that makes things weird, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I thought maybe—”
You kiss him.
You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe because of the way he’s looking at you, so open and vulnerable. Maybe because you want to stop him from saying more things that will make you feel guilty. Maybe because you’ve been wanting to kiss him for weeks and you’re tired of pretending otherwise.
Whatever the reason, you lean in and press your lips to his, and for a moment, he freezes.
Then he’s kissing you back, tentative at first and then deeper, his hand coming up to cup your face. His lips are soft, and he tastes like trail mix and mint gum, and it’s good—better than it should be, better than kissing Jake, better than anything you expected.
When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard.
“Wow,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Does this mean…?”
“I don’t know what this means,” you say honestly. “But I like you too. I think.”
He smiles, bright and genuine, and pulls you in for another kiss.
You lose track of time there by the lake, kissing Sunghoon like teenagers, his hands respectful but wanting, your fingers tangled in his hair. It feels right in a way that scares you.
When you finally break apart for real, the sun has shifted position, and you realize you’ve been here for over an hour.
“We should probably head back,” Sunghoon says reluctantly.
“Yeah.”
The hike back to the car is different from the hike out. Sunghoon holds your hand the entire way, his grip warm and steady, and you can’t stop smiling.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to actually like him.
But as he helps you into the car and leans over to kiss you one more time before closing the door, you realize you’re completely screwed.
That night, lying in bed, you finally respond to Mina’s texts.
how’s the bet going?
You stare at the message for a long time before typing: Good. He’s definitely into me.
perfect. keep it up. easy money.
Yeah. Easy money.
But it doesn’t feel easy anymore.
The following week, everything changes.
Your tutoring sessions become something more—study dates, really, where you spend as much time talking and laughing as you do working through problems. Sunghoon brings you coffee every time now, always remembering exactly how you like it. You find excuses to touch him, and he finds excuses to touch you back—a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing when you pass papers back and forth.
On Thursday, after your session ends, he walks you back to your apartment. It’s out of his way, and you both know it, but neither of you mentions it.
At your door, he kisses you goodbye, slow and sweet, and you have to physically stop yourself from inviting him inside.
“I’ll see you next week,” he says, his forehead resting against yours.
“That’s so far away,” you murmur, and you’re surprised to find that you mean it.
“We could… do something over the weekend?” he suggests. “If you want.”
“Like what?”
“There’s a film festival on Saturday. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people, but—”
“I’d love to,” you interrupt.
His face lights up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel yourself melting into him.
When he finally leaves, you float into your apartment in a daze. Jiwoo takes one look at your face and grins.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she says.
“Shut up,” you say, but you can’t stop smiling.
That night, you’re lying in bed scrolling through your phone when you see a post on Jake’s Instagram story. It’s from the Sigma Chi party—a blurry photo of the crowd with the caption good times.
And suddenly you remember. The kiss. Jake.
Your stomach drops.
You need to tell Sunghoon. You should tell him before he hears it from someone else, before it becomes a thing.
But how do you explain that you kissed his friend while you were… what? Were you dating him then? Are you dating him now? You never actually defined what this is.
You open your messages with Sunghoon, type out Can we talk? and then delete it.
This is fine. It was one kiss, weeks ago, before you and Sunghoon were actually together. It doesn’t mean anything.
Except it does mean something, because it means you were pursuing the bet. And if Sunghoon ever found out about the bet…
You close your phone and stare at the ceiling, your earlier happiness curdling into anxiety.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
Saturday arrives, and you meet Sunghoon at the small independent theater on the edge of campus. He’s dressed nicely—dark jeans and a fitted sweater that makes him look older, more sophisticated. When he sees you, his entire face transforms with his smile.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.
“Hi yourself.”
The film festival is showing three movies back-to-back, and you settle into your seats with a large popcorn between you. The first film is French, subtitled, about a woman navigating love and loss in Paris. It’s beautiful and melancholy, and halfway through, Sunghoon reaches over and takes your hand.
During the second film—a Japanese drama about family—you rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you. It feels domestic and comfortable and utterly terrifying.
By the third film, you’re barely paying attention to the screen. All you can focus on is the warmth of Sunghoon’s body next to yours, the way his thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, the way he occasionally leans down to whisper commentary that makes you laugh.
When the festival ends and you step out into the evening air, you feel drunk on happiness and caffeine from the terrible theater coffee.
“That was amazing,” you say.
“Yeah?” Sunghoon looks pleased. “I wasn’t sure if it was too pretentious.”
“It was exactly pretentious enough.” You loop your arm through his as you walk. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming. I know it’s not exactly a typical date.”
“Who says I want typical?”
He grins and pulls you close, kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk like you’re the only two people in the world.
You end up at a small cafe nearby, ordering hot chocolates and splitting a piece of chocolate cake. The conversation flows easily—he tells you about his thesis project, you tell him about your internship applications, and somehow you end up talking about childhood dreams and fears and all the small details that make up a life.
“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Sunghoon admits. “I was obsessed with space.”
“What changed?”
“I realized I get motion sickness really easily.” He laughs. “Not exactly ideal for space travel.”
“That’s tragic.”
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
You think back. “A lawyer, I think. I liked arguing.”
“That tracks.”
You kick him lightly under the table, and he catches your foot between his, holding it there.
The cafe starts to close, and reluctantly, you both leave. Sunghoon walks you home again, and at your door, the goodbye kiss turns into several goodbye kisses, which turn into you pressed against the door with his body flush against yours.
“Do you want to come inside?” you breathe against his lips.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
You unlock the door and pull him inside, grateful that Jiwoo is gone for the weekend. The apartment is dark and quiet, and you lead Sunghoon to your bedroom, your heart pounding.
Inside, you turn to face him, suddenly nervous. This feels different than all the other times you’ve done this with other guys. This feels like it matters.
“Hey,” Sunghoon says softly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I want to,” you say. “I want you.”
He kisses you then, slow and deep, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall together, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, and as he hovers over you, looking down with so much want and tenderness that it makes your chest ache, you think: I’m in so much trouble.
But you push the thought away and pull him down into another kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your neck, the weight of him above you.
When you pull him inside your bedroom, the air between you feels electric. Sunghoon’s hands are tentative at first, skimming over your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough in a way you’d never heard before.
“More than okay,” you whisper, reaching up to pull him into another kiss.
That seems to break something loose in him. His kisses become deeper, more urgent, his hands more confident as they explore. You pull at his sweater, and he breaks away just long enough to tug it over his head.
You’ve never seen him like this—shirtless, his body leaner than you expected but defined, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hands find his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders, his ribs, and he shivers under your touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”
The admission sends heat pooling in your stomach. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he looks up at you, waiting for permission.
You answer by pulling it off yourself, and his eyes go dark with want.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and the curse sounds foreign in his mouth, which somehow makes it hotter.
His hands cup your breasts through your bra, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. He kisses down your sternum, your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.
“Can I?” he asks, looking up at you.
“Please.”
He unbuttons your jeans slowly, reverently, sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. When you are finally bare before him, he sat back on his heels just looking at you, and you feel genuinely seen in a way that should have made you self-conscious but instead makes you feel powerful.
“You’re staring,” you say, but is no bite to it.
“Can’t help it.” He leans down to kiss you again, his body presses against yours, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.
Your hands go to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until he helps you, kicking off his jeans and boxers in one motion. And then there was nothing between you, just skin on skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the best way.
“Do you have…?” he starts.
“Nightstand,” you gasp. “Top drawer.”
He reaches over, finds a condom, and you watch as he rolls it on with shaking hands. When he settles back over you, positioning himself between your legs, he pauses.
“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said, his eyes searching yours.
“I will. I promise.”
He pushes into you slowly, carefully, and you both groan at the sensation. He fills you perfectly, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard.
“Okay?” he manages.
“So okay,” you whisper. “Move. Please move.”
He did, starting with slow, deep strokes that have you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. His technique was unpracticed but enthusiastic, and when you shift your hips to find the angle you need, he paid attention, adjusting immediately.
“Like that,” you breathe. “Right there.”
“Here?” He hits the spot again, harder this time, and you cry out.
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
He set a rhythm then, his hips snapping against yours, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sounds he makes—low groans and whispered curses—were pushing you closer to the edge.
“You feel so good,” he pants against your neck. “So fucking good.”
Your nails rake down his back, and he hisses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he regains control. You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building low in your belly.
“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come.”
The command sends a shock of heat through you. You slide your hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation combined with the feeling of him inside you is too much.
“Sunghoon,” you gasp. “I’m—”
“Come for me,” he says, and that’s it.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body tensing and shaking as pleasure rolls through you. You feel yourself clenching around him, and he groans, his movements becoming erratic.
“Fuck, I’m—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just buries himself deep and comes with a broken moan, his body shuddering against yours.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“That was…” he started.
“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice still shaky.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your lips. “You’re amazing.”
And lying there in his arms, your body still humming with aftershocks, you feel something crack wide open in your chest. Something that feels dangerously close to real feelings.
Later—much later—you lie tangled together in your sheets, Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around you, his breathing deep and even. You should feel satisfied, content.
Instead, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.
You wake up to sunlight streaming through your window and the unfamiliar weight of someone else in your bed.
For a disorienting moment, you forget where you are, who you’re with. Then Sunghoon shifts beside you, his arm tightening around your waist, and everything comes rushing back.
The film festival. The cafe. Bringing him back here. The sex.
Oh god, the sex.
Your face heats at the memory, and you bury it in the pillow. Sunghoon makes a soft noise in his sleep, nuzzling into your neck, and despite everything—the guilt, the confusion, the looming disaster of the bet—you can’t help but smile.
“Are you awake?” His voice is rough with sleep, muffled against your skin.
“Maybe.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” You turn in his arms to face him, and he’s unfairly attractive like this—hair messy, eyes soft, a small smile on his lips.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
He kisses you, slow and lazy, and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your stomach, but before things can progress, his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand.
He groans, breaking away to check it. “It’s Heeseung. He wants to know if I’m alive.”
“Are you?”
“Barely.” He types out a quick response and sets the phone down. “I should probably go. I have a study group at noon.”
Disappointment lances through you, which is ridiculous. You just spent the entire night with him. “Yeah, okay.”
“Unless…” He looks at you hopefully. “Do you want to get breakfast first? There’s that place near campus that does really good pancakes.”
You should say no. You should put some distance between you, figure out what the hell you’re doing.
But instead you say, “I love pancakes.”
The diner is busy with the Sunday morning crowd, but you manage to snag a booth near the back. Sunghoon orders a truly obscene amount of food—pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns—and you raise an eyebrow.
“What? I’m hungry.” He grins. “Last night was… athletic.”
You kick him under the table, face flaming. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” His grin widens. “You’re very… energetic.”
“Oh my god, stop talking.”
But you’re laughing, and so is he, and when the food arrives, you end up stealing bites from his plate while he pretends to be offended.
It’s domestic and easy and terrifying.
Halfway through the meal, Jake walks in with Heeseung and Jay. Your stomach drops.
Jake sees you first, and something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or understanding. Then he’s heading over with the other two in tow.
“Sunghoon!” Heeseung says cheerfully, sliding into the booth beside him without asking. “You never came home last night. We were worried.”
Jay smirks, looking between you and Sunghoon. “Clearly not that worried.”
Sunghoon’s ears turn red. “We were just… we went to the film festival and then—”
“And then you stayed over,” Jake finishes, his eyes on you. There’s something unreadable in his expression.
“Hi, Jake,” you say carefully.
“Hey.” He slides in next to you, forcing you to scoot over. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah.”
The tension is palpable, at least to you. Sunghoon seems oblivious, too busy fielding questions from Heeseung about the films, but Jake is looking at you like he knows something.
“So you two are like, together now?” Heeseung asks bluntly.
Sunghoon glances at you, and there’s vulnerability in his eyes. “I… we haven’t really talked about it.”
“We’re seeing each other,” you say, reaching over to lace your fingers with his. “Right?”
“Right.” His smile is so genuine it makes your chest ache.
“Cute,” Jay says, stealing a piece of bacon from Sunghoon’s plate. “Our boy’s all grown up.”
“Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, but he’s grinning.
The conversation shifts to other topics—an upcoming game, someone’s disastrous Tinder date, plans for Halloween. You mostly stay quiet, hyperaware of Jake beside you, wondering if he’s going to say something about the party. About the kiss.
But he doesn’t. He just eats his food and makes jokes with the others, and when they finally leave, he gives you a long look that makes your stomach twist.
“He knows,” you say once they’re gone.
“Knows what?” Sunghoon asks, signaling for the check.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
The next week passes in a blur of classes, tutoring sessions that turn into makeout sessions, and stolen moments in empty classrooms and dark corners of the library.
You can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now that you’ve crossed that line, neither of you can go back.
On Tuesday, your “tutoring session” lasts all of fifteen minutes before Sunghoon is pulling you into his lap, his mouth hot on your neck.
“We should actually study,” you gasp, even as you grind down against him.
“We should,” he agrees, not stopping.
You end up in the single-user bathroom on the third floor, Sunghoon pressing you against the door as he kisses you breathless. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt to cup your breasts.
“God, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes against your lips. “It’s affecting my grades.”
“Liar. You’re incapable of getting bad grades.”
“Want to test that theory?” His hand slips between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you bite back a moan.
“Someone could hear.”
“Then you’ll have to be quiet.”
He drops to his knees, and your brain short-circuits.
“Sunghoon, what are you—”
“Let me,” he says, already unbuttoning your jeans. “Please. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
You should say no. You’re in a public bathroom in the library. Anyone could walk by.
But then he’s pulling your jeans and underwear down, and his mouth is on you, and all rational thought flies out the window.
“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair.
He’s enthusiastic if not entirely skilled, his tongue exploring with scientific precision, trying to figure out what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds your clit and sucks lightly, your knees buckle.
“There,” you manage. “Right there, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He works you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on your fist to keep from crying out. The knowledge that you’re doing this here, in public, with Sunghoon of all people on his knees for you, makes it even hotter.
You come embarrassingly quickly, your orgasm hitting you hard and sudden. Sunghoon works you through it, lapping at you until you’re shaking and oversensitive, and when he finally pulls away, his lips are shiny and his eyes are dark with lust.
“You taste amazing,” he says, his voice wrecked.
You pull him up and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Your place. Now.”
“I have a roommate.”
“My place then.”
You somehow make it back to your apartment without attacking him in public, though it’s a close thing. The moment you’re through the door, you’re on him, pushing him toward your bedroom and stripping off his clothes.
“Bed,” you command, and he goes willingly, lying back and watching as you undress.
When you straddle him, positioning yourself over his cock, he groans.
“Condom,” he manages.
“Nightstand.”
He reaches over, fumbles with the drawer, and rolls one on with shaking hands. Then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you moaning at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips. “You feel so good.”
You start to move, riding him slowly at first and then faster, chasing your pleasure. His hands roam your body—your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his eyes locked on you. “So fucking beautiful.”
The praise sends heat through you, and you lean down to kiss him, your movements becoming erratic. He takes over then, thrusting up into you hard and fast, and the change in angle has you gasping.
“Touch yourself,” he says, echoing his words from last time. “I want to see you come again.”
You do, your fingers finding your clit, and the combination of his cock inside you and your own touch is too much. You come with a cry, your body clenching around him, and he follows a moment later with a groan, his hips stuttering.
You collapse on top of him, both of you breathing hard, and he wraps his arms around you.
“I’m never going to be able to concentrate in the library again,” he says, and you laugh into his chest.
Thursday’s session is more of the same. You try to actually study—you really do—but Sunghoon keeps looking at you with these heated glances, and his hand keeps finding your thigh under the table, and eventually you give up and suggest going back to his place.
His roommate is at class, and you have exactly ninety minutes before he’s back.
You make the most of it.
This time, you’re the one on your knees, learning what makes Sunghoon gasp and curse. He’s bigger than you expected, and you take your time, using your tongue and lips and hands until he’s gripping the sheets and saying your name like a prayer.
“I’m close,” he warns, but you don’t pull away.
When he comes, you swallow, and the look on his face is worth it—complete bliss mixed with awe.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “That was…”
“Good?” you ask, crawling up his body.
“Understatement of the century.” He pulls you in for a kiss, apparently not caring that you just had him in your mouth. “Your turn.”
“We don’t have time—”
“We have time.”
He proves it by going down on you again, this time with more confidence and skill. He’s a fast learner, you’ll give him that. He remembers exactly what you liked before, adding new tricks that have you squirming and begging.
When you come, it’s intense enough that you see stars, and Sunghoon looks so pleased with himself that you can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks, grinning.
“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really into this.”
“Into making you feel good? Yeah, I am.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Is that weird?”
“No. It’s perfect.”
And it is perfect, which is the problem.
Because every moment with him feels more real, and every real moment makes the lie bigger.
That night, Mina corners you at a party at some frat house you don’t remember the name of.
“Okay, what the fuck?” she demands, pulling you into a relatively quiet hallway. “You’ve been dodging my texts for two weeks.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to update me on the bet? Because from what I’m hearing, you and Park Sunghoon are basically dating now.” She raises an eyebrow. “Which is great for the bet, obviously, but you’ve been weird about it.”
“I haven’t been weird.”
“You’re being weird right now. What’s going on?”
You take a long drink from your cup, buying time. “Nothing. It’s going fine. He’s definitely into me.”
“And are you into him?” The question is pointed.
“It’s a bet, Mina. Of course I’m not actually—”
“Bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “I’ve known you for three years. I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Do you actually like him?”
The question hangs in the air between you. You could lie. You should lie.
But you’re so tired of lying.
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “Maybe.”
Mina’s expression softens. “Babe…”
“I know. I’m an idiot. This was supposed to be easy, and I’m making it complicated.”
“So end the bet. Just tell him the truth.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, funny story, I only started talking to you because my friend bet me two hundred dollars that I couldn’t make you fall for me, but surprise, I actually caught feelings’? That’ll go over well.”
“Better than him finding out some other way.”
“He’s not going to find out.”
“Jake knows.” Mina says it casually, but the words hit like a punch.
“What?”
“Jake knows about the bet. He was there when I made it, remember? And he’s Sunghoon’s friend. You really think he’s not going to say something?”
Your stomach drops. “Jake wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he? You two hooked up at that party. And now you’re dating his friend. You don’t think that’s going to come up eventually?”
Panic rises in your throat. “We didn’t hook up. We just kissed.”
“Does Sunghoon know that?”
“No.”
“So you’re keeping secrets on top of secrets. Great plan.”
“What do you want me to do, Mina?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I can’t unfuck this situation. It’s already fucked.”
She sighs, her expression gentler now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. You don’t do feelings, you don’t do relationships. And now you’re in this mess because I made a stupid bet. So I’m giving you an out. Call it off. Keep your money. I don’t care. Just… don’t hurt him. And don’t hurt yourself.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.”
But she doesn’t understand. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s not even about the bet.
It’s about the fact that you’ve built something real with Sunghoon, even if it’s built on a foundation of lies. And you don’t know how to tell him the truth without destroying everything.
The next morning, you wake up to a text from Sunghoon: Can’t stop thinking about yesterday. When can I see you again?
Despite everything—the guilt, the fear, the looming disaster—you smile.
Tonight? My place?
Perfect. I’ll bring dinner.
You spend the day in a state of anxious anticipation. Part of you wants to cancel, to put some distance between you and figure out what to do. But a bigger part of you just wants to see him, to pretend for a little while longer that everything is okay.
He shows up at seven with Thai food and that soft smile that makes your heart hurt.
“Hi,” he says, kissing you hello like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi.”
You eat on your bed, cross-legged and trading bites of pad thai and spring rolls. Sunghoon tells you about his thesis advisor giving him shit for missing a meeting, and you tell him about your nightmare group project in your econometrics class.
It’s domestic and comfortable and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.
After dinner, you end up tangled together, kissing lazily. His hands are under your shirt, yours in his hair, and it’s not urgent or desperate—just sweet and slow.
“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon says against your lips.
“Mm?”
“Are we… I mean, I know we said we’re seeing each other, but are we like, exclusive? Because I’d like to be. Exclusive, I mean. If you want.”
Your heart squeezes. “You want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yeah. I really do.” He pulls back to look at you, and there’s such open honesty in his face that it makes you want to cry. “Is that okay?”
You should say no. You should end this before it gets worse.
But instead you kiss him hard and whisper, “Yes. I want that too.”
His smile is brilliant, and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Things heat up quickly after that—clothes coming off, hands and mouths everywhere.
This time, Sunghoon takes his time. He kisses every inch of your skin, mapping your body with his lips and tongue. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you with dark eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You. Just you.”
He works you with his mouth until you’re trembling and gasping, and when he finally pushes inside you, it feels different. More intimate. Like you’re not just fucking but making love, which is a thought that should terrify you but instead just makes you hold him tighter.
“I’m falling for you,” he breathes against your neck as he moves inside you. “I know it’s fast, but I can’t help it.”
You should tell him the truth. Right now, in this moment, you should come clean.
But instead you just kiss him and whisper, “I’m falling for you too.”
And the worst part is, you mean it.
Later, after he’s fallen asleep, you lie awake staring at the ceiling.
You’re in love with Park Sunghoon.
You’re in love with the boy you were supposed to play, the bet you were supposed to win. And he loves you back, except he doesn’t really love you—he loves the version of you that you’ve been pretending to be.
Or maybe he does love the real you. Maybe all the pretending has become real. Maybe there’s no difference anymore.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Jake: We need to talk.
You stare at the message, your heart pounding.
Everything is about to fall apart. You can feel it.
And you have no idea how to stop it.
You meet Jake at a coffee shop off campus, somewhere you’re unlikely to run into anyone you know.
He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee in front of him. He slides one toward you as you sit down.
“Vanilla latte,” he says. “I remembered from that party.”
“Thanks.” You wrap your hands around the cup, more for something to do than because you actually want it.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Jake studies you with an unreadable expression, and you force yourself to meet his gaze.
“So,” he says finally. “You and Sunghoon.”
“Yeah.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“A few weeks. Officially, I mean. We’ve been doing the tutoring thing for longer.”
Jake nods slowly. “He’s really into you. Like, really into you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
Guilt twists in your stomach. “I know.”
“Does he know about the bet?”
There it is. The question you’ve been dreading.
“No,” you say quietly.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Jake repeats, his tone flat. “So you’re just going to keep lying to him?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It actually is that simple.” He leans forward. “You made a bet that you could make him fall for you. You did. Congratulations. Now either you tell him the truth, or you don’t. But this middle ground where you’re pretending everything’s fine? That’s fucked up.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I know it’s fucked up. I know I should tell him. But how do I do that without destroying everything?”
“Maybe everything deserves to be destroyed if it’s built on a lie.”
The words hit harder than they should. You take a shaky breath. “Why do you care so much? You barely know him.”
“He’s my friend. And he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.” Jake pauses. “And honestly? I don’t think you deserve to hurt yourself like this either. I saw your face when you’re with him. Whatever started as a bet isn’t a bet anymore. You actually care about him.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Tell him the truth. Before someone else does.”
Your blood runs cold. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m warning you.” Jake’s expression softens slightly. “Look, I’m not going to tell him. That’s not my place. But Mina was drunk when she made that bet, and there were other people around. Someone’s going to say something eventually. And it’s going to be a lot worse if he hears it from someone else.”
He’s right. You know he’s right.
“I’ll tell him,” you say. “I just… I need to find the right time.”
“Don’t wait too long.” Jake stands, leaving his coffee untouched. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d understand. He’s not perfect either. None of us are. But he deserves honesty.”
After he leaves, you sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, staring at your phone.
You pull up your messages with Sunghoon, dozens of texts full of inside jokes and sweet nothings. Then you scroll to Mina, her most recent message asking if you want to go out this weekend.
You type out three different messages to Sunghoon—variations of “we need to talk”—and delete them all.
Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes and goes, and you don’t tell him.
You tell yourself you’re waiting for the right moment, but the truth is you’re a coward. Every time you’re with him, you see how happy he is, how he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you can’t bring yourself to shatter that.
The week passes in a strange tension. On the surface, everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon are inseparable—studying together, eating together, sleeping together. He’s introduced you to his parents over video chat, and you’ve started keeping a toothbrush at his place.
But underneath, you’re drowning in guilt and anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It happens on Friday night.
There’s a Halloween party at one of the bigger fraternity houses, and everyone is going. Sunghoon isn’t thrilled about it—he’s still not much of a party person—but you’d promised you’d go together, and he’s trying.
You’d put actual effort into your costume—a devil, complete with red bodysuit, horns, and a tail. Sunghoon is dressed as an angel, which he’d been embarrassed about until you told him how hot he looked in all white.
“We’re very on the nose,” he says as you walk to the party, his hand in yours.
“I think it’s cute. Heaven and hell, together at last.”
“Is that what we are?” He grins. “I’m corrupting you or you’re corrupting me?”
“Definitely the second one.”
The party is already in full swing when you arrive, the house packed with people in various states of intoxication and costume creativity. You spot Mina almost immediately—she’s dressed as a sexy nurse and is already drunk, dancing on a table with some guy from her marketing class.
“I’m going to get us drinks,” Sunghoon says, kissing your temple. “Want your usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He disappears into the crowd, and you start making your way toward Mina. But before you can reach her, someone grabs your arm.
It’s Jenna, a girl from your econometrics class. You’ve talked to her a few times, but you wouldn’t call her a friend.
“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you!” She’s clearly drunk, her words slightly slurred. “I need to know—is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The bet! With Park Sunghoon!” She’s practically shouting over the music. “Mina told Sarah who told me that you made a bet you could make him fall for you. And oh my god, you guys are actually dating now? That’s hilarious. How much did you win?”
Your blood turns to ice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but your voice sounds wrong even to your own ears.
“Come on, don’t be modest! It’s genius, honestly. I mean, he’s such a nerd, it probably wasn’t even that hard—”
“Stop.” The word comes out harsh, cutting. “Just stop talking.”
Jenna blinks, taken aback. “Whoa, okay. I was just—”
But you’re not listening anymore. You’re scanning the crowd frantically, looking for Sunghoon, praying he’s still in the kitchen getting drinks, praying he didn’t hear any of that.
And then you see him.
He’s standing about ten feet away, two cups in his hands, his face completely blank.
Your heart stops.
“Sunghoon—”
But he’s already turning away, setting the cups down on the nearest surface and heading for the door.
“Shit,” you breathe, pushing past Jenna and fighting your way through the crowd. “Sunghoon, wait!”
You catch up to him outside, on the front lawn. He’s walking fast, his shoulders tense, and when you grab his arm, he jerks away.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice cold in a way you’ve never heard before.
“Please, just let me explain—”
“Explain what?” He whirls to face you, and the hurt in his eyes is devastating. “Explain how you made a bet that you could make me fall for you? Explain how this entire thing has been a lie?”
“It’s not—it wasn’t all a lie—”
“How much?” His voice cracks. “How much did you win?”
“Sunghoon—”
“How much?” He’s shouting now, and people are starting to stare.
“Two hundred dollars,” you whisper. “But I don’t want it. I never wanted it. That’s not what this is about.”
He laughs, a bitter sound. “Right. So what is it about? Entertainment? Did you have fun? Watching the awkward nerd fall all over himself for you?”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you played me. You pretended to need tutoring, pretended to be interested in me, pretended to—” His voice breaks. “Did you fake all of it? Every moment, every kiss, every time you said you cared about me?”
“No!” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I didn’t fake it. I swear, I didn’t. It started as a bet, yes, but it became real. My feelings are real.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?” He’s crying too, and seeing him cry because of you is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say when everything has been a lie?”
“Because I love you,” you say desperately. “I love you, Sunghoon. That’s real. That’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
For a moment, something flickers in his expression—hope, maybe, or want. But then it hardens again.
“You don’t love me,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know me. Because if you did, if you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I need to go.”
“Please don’t leave. Let me explain properly, let me—”
“There’s nothing to explain.” He takes a step back, putting distance between you. “You made a bet. You won. Congratulations.”
“Sunghoon—”
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to talk to you. I just… I need you to leave me alone.”
And then he’s walking away, and you’re standing alone on the lawn in your stupid devil costume, crying so hard you can barely breathe.
Behind you, the party continues, oblivious to the fact that your entire world just imploded.
You don’t remember getting home. One minute you’re on the lawn, the next you’re in your apartment, Mina’s arms around you while you sob into her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she keeps saying. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have made that stupid bet. This is my fault.”
But it’s not her fault. It’s yours.
You’re the one who accepted the bet. You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who kept lying even after you started developing real feelings.
You’re the one who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart.
Your phone won’t stop buzzing—texts from people at the party, from Jenna apologizing, from people you barely know asking if it’s true. You turn it off and curl up in bed, still in your costume, feeling like you’re suffocating.
“What do I do?” you ask Mina, your voice hoarse from crying.
“I don’t know, babe. Give him time, maybe? Let him cool off, then try to talk to him again?”
“He said he doesn’t want to see me.”
“He’s hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt.”
But you saw his face. The betrayal, the devastation. That wasn’t just hurt. That was something deeper.
You’d made him believe someone could care about him, could see past the nerd label and the awkwardness and love him for who he is.
And then you’d proven that it was all an act.
“I ruined everything,” you whisper.
Mina doesn’t argue.
The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. Your phone is still off, and you’re afraid to turn it on.
But you force yourself to. You need to know how bad it is.
The damage is worse than you thought. There are dozens of messages, multiple group chats discussing the drama. Someone apparently recorded part of your argument with Sunghoon and posted it online. Your mentions are full of people calling you a bitch, a heartbreaker, cruel.
And they’re not wrong.
You scroll through until you find messages from people who actually matter. Heeseung sent you a long text that essentially amounts to “what the fuck is wrong with you.” Jay’s is shorter but somehow more cutting: “He really loved you. I hope it was worth it.”
Jake’s is the one that makes you cry again: “I warned you. I hope you figure out how to make this right.”
There’s nothing from Sunghoon.
You open your conversation with him, looking at the last messages he sent—a string of heart emojis in response to a photo you’d sent of your costume. It was less than twelve hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime.
You type out a message: I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please, let me explain. What I said last night was true. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.
You stare at it for a long moment, then delete it.
Words aren’t going to fix this. Nothing is going to fix this.
You’ve lost him.
And it’s entirely your own fault.
The first week without Sunghoon is the worst week of your life.
You stop going to parties. You can barely drag yourself to classes. Your carefully constructed social life—the one where you were always the center of attention, always having fun, always in control—crumbles around you.
Because it turns out that when people know you’re capable of something that cruel, they look at you differently.
Mina tries her best to support you, but even she doesn’t know what to say. She canceled the bet immediately, told you to keep your money, apologized a hundred times. But it doesn’t change anything.
You avoid the library completely. You can’t bear to walk past your usual table by the windows, can’t bear to remember all those tutoring sessions that turned into something more. Your statistics homework sits untouched—you can’t bring yourself to look at probability distributions without thinking of Sunghoon’s patient explanations, his neat handwriting, the way his face would light up when you got a problem right.
Your roommate Jiwoo walks on eggshells around you. She brings you food you don’t eat, suggests watching movies you can’t focus on, and eventually just sits with you in silence because that’s all you can handle.
“You need to get out of bed,” she says on day five, opening your curtains despite your protests. “You haven’t showered in two days. You’re not eating. This isn’t healthy.”
“I know.”
“So get up. Take a shower. We’ll go get coffee or something.”
“I don’t want coffee.”
“I don’t care what you want. You’re getting out of this apartment.” Her voice is firm but kind. “Come on. I’ll wait.”
You drag yourself out of bed, shower on autopilot, and put on clothes that aren’t pajamas for the first time in days. When you look in the mirror, you barely recognize yourself. Your face is pale, eyes hollow and red-rimmed. You look like you’ve been through a war.
You feel like it too.
Campus feels different now. You walk with your head down, avoiding eye contact, hyperaware of every whisper and pointed look. The story has spread—everyone knows about the bet, about what you did. Some people are sympathetic, but most just see you as the girl who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart for two hundred dollars.
You deserve it. Every bit of judgment, every dirty look. You deserve all of it.
Jiwoo takes you to a small cafe on the edge of campus, one you’ve never been to before. It’s quiet, mostly empty, and you’re grateful for the anonymity.
“Talk to me,” Jiwoo says once you’re settled with your drinks. “What are you feeling?”
“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” You wrap your hands around your cup. “I keep thinking about his face. When he found out. I’ve never seen anyone look so… broken.”
“Have you tried to reach out?”
“What would I even say? ‘Sorry I made a bet to make you fall in love with me’? There’s no apology big enough for what I did.”
“Maybe not. But maybe he deserves to hear that you’re sorry anyway.”
You shake your head. “He said he doesn’t want to see me. I have to respect that.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m accepting that I fucked up so badly there’s no coming back from it.” Your voice cracks. “I lost him, Jiwoo. And it’s my own fault.”
She reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “For what it’s worth, I think your feelings were real. I saw how you were with him. That wasn’t fake.”
“It doesn’t matter if they were real. Not when everything else was a lie.”
You start seeing Sunghoon around campus, though “seeing” isn’t quite right because you make sure he never actually sees you. You’ve become an expert at ducking into buildings, changing directions, hiding behind groups of people.
Each glimpse of him is like a knife to the chest.
He looks tired. Sad. He’s always alone now, you notice—no more walking with Heeseung and the others, no more sitting in groups at the dining hall. He’s retreated back into himself, back into the lonely, isolated version of himself that existed before you.
Before you ruined everything.
On Tuesday at 5 PM, you walk past the library and see him at your old table. There’s a girl sitting across from him—you don’t recognize her—and she’s working through what looks like statistics problems. He’s explaining something, using the same patient tone he used with you, and seeing it makes you feel physically ill.
He’s moved on. He’s replaced you.
Which is what you wanted, right? For him to be okay? But watching it happen feels like dying.
Week two is somehow worse than week one.
You run into Heeseung at the gym. You’ve been going at odd hours to avoid people, but apparently not odd enough. He’s on the treadmill next to yours, and for a moment you consider just leaving. But he speaks before you can.
“You look like shit,” he says bluntly.
“Thanks.”
“Sunghoon looks worse.”
Your chest tightens. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Too bad.” Heeseung stops his treadmill and turns to face you fully. “You fucked up. We all know it. But I’m not here to lecture you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I’ve known Sunghoon since freshman year, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he was with you. And I’ve also never seen him as miserable as he is now.” He pauses. “And because Jake told me what you said. That you actually fell for him.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It matters to him. Even if he won’t admit it.”
You stop your treadmill too. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung? That I’m sorry? I’m sorry. That I wish I could take it back? I do. That I love him? I—” Your voice breaks. “I love him so much it’s destroying me. But he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t blame him.”
Heeseung studies you for a long moment. “He’s stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person I know. When he decides something, it’s really hard to change his mind.”
“So I’m fucked.”
“I didn’t say that.” He grabs his water bottle. “I’m just saying, if you really love him, you’re going to have to fight for it. Because he’s not going to make it easy.”
“He shouldn’t have to make anything easy. I’m the one who screwed up.”
“Yeah, you did. But people screw up. That’s life. The question is whether you’re going to let one mistake define you, or whether you’re going to do everything you can to make it right.”
He leaves you there, heart pounding, his words echoing in your head.
On Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Mina: brunch? you need to eat and i miss you
You almost say no. But Jiwoo would just drag you out anyway, so you agree.
Mina picks the place—a cute little diner near campus that does bottomless mimosas on weekends. It’s the kind of place that’s usually packed, but you arrive early enough to get a table.
You’re halfway through your pancakes when the door opens and Sunghoon walks in.
Your heart stops.
He’s not alone. There’s a girl with him—the same one from the library, you realize. She’s pretty, with long dark hair and a sweet smile. She’s laughing at something he said, and he’s smiling back, and seeing them together feels like someone reached into your chest and ripped your heart out.
“Oh shit,” Mina breathes, following your gaze.
You can’t look away. You watch as they’re seated at a booth near the window—the same booth you and Sunghoon sat in that Sunday morning after your first night together. The morning when everything felt perfect and possible.
The girl says something and Sunghoon laughs—really laughs—and you realize with a sick feeling that you haven’t heard that laugh in weeks. Not since before everything fell apart.
“We should go,” Mina says, already signaling for the check.
“No.” Your voice sounds strange, hollow. “It’s fine. We were here first.”
“Babe—”
“I said it’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. You watch as they order coffee, as Sunghoon does that thing where he pushes his glasses up when he’s happy, as the girl reaches across the table to show him something on her phone and their fingers brush.
Does he touch her the way he touched you? Does he kiss her like he kissed you? Does he tell her about the hiking trail, about his dreams of being an astronaut, about all the little things he shared with you?
Has he replaced you that easily?
“I need to go,” you say abruptly, standing up. Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and several people look over—including Sunghoon.
Your eyes meet across the diner.
For one terrible, eternal moment, everything else falls away. It’s just you and him, all the hurt and love and regret hanging between you like a physical thing.
His expression shifts—surprise, then pain, then carefully controlled blankness. He looks away first, turning his attention back to the girl across from him with deliberate focus.
The dismissal is clear. You mean nothing to him now.
You barely make it outside before you start crying.
Mina follows, wrapping her arms around you while you sob on the sidewalk. People walk past, staring, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“He’s moved on,” you choke out. “He’s already moved on.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s just a friend—”
“Did you see the way he looked at her? He was happy, Mina. Really happy. Like he is when he’s—” You can’t finish the sentence. Like he was with you.
“Come on,” Mina says gently. “Let’s get you home.”
You let her lead you back to your apartment, your mind stuck on repeat. The image of Sunghoon laughing with that girl, the way he looked away from you like you were nothing, the realization that you’ve truly, permanently lost him.
This is what you deserve, you tell yourself. This is the consequence of your actions.
But knowing you deserve it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
That night, alone in your room, you finally let yourself break completely.
You pull out your laptop and open the folder of photos from the past few weeks. There are dozens—candid shots of Sunghoon studying, selfies you took together, photos from the hiking trip. In every single one where he’s looking at you, his expression is so full of love it makes your chest ache.
He really did love you. Completely, genuinely, without reservation.
And you destroyed that.
You find yourself scrolling through your text messages with him, reading through months of conversation. The early ones are formal—just coordinating tutoring sessions. But they gradually shift into something more. Long conversations about nothing and everything. Stupid jokes. Good morning and goodnight texts. The kind of constant communication that happens when you can’t stop thinking about someone.
The last text is still the string of heart emojis he sent in response to your costume photo. You’d been so happy that night, getting ready for the party, excited to show him off to everyone.
And then it all came crashing down.
You start typing before you can stop yourself: I saw you today at the diner. You looked happy. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy. I know you don’t want to hear from me, and I promise this is the last time I’ll bother you. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. What I did was unforgivable, and I understand why you hate me. But I need you to know that my feelings were real. Are real. I fell in love with you, Sunghoon. Really, truly in love. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I needed to say it. You made me want to be a better person. You made me see that there’s more to life than parties and surface-level friendships and keeping people at arm’s length. You made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. And I ruined it. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I was selfish and careless and stupid. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even expect you to respond to this. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. I’ll always love you.
You read it over three times, your finger hovering over the send button.
Then you delete it.
He’s moved on. He’s happy. And sending that message would just be selfish—making yourself feel better at his expense.
So instead, you close your laptop, turn off your phone, and cry yourself to sleep.
The next morning, you wake up to pounding on your door.
“Go away, Jiwoo,” you mumble into your pillow.
“It’s not Jiwoo.”
You bolt upright. That’s not Jiwoo’s voice. You stumble to the door and open it to find Jay standing there, looking uncharacteristically serious.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I don’t—”
“It’s about Sunghoon. Let me in.”
Your heart racing, you step aside. Jay walks in, looking around your disaster of an apartment—tissues everywhere, empty takeout containers, your laundry piled in the corner.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You really are a mess.”
“If you came here to insult me—”
“I came here to tell you that Sunghoon is miserable.” Jay turns to face you. “That girl you saw him with? That’s his cousin. She’s visiting for the weekend, and he agreed to show her around campus. But according to Heeseung, the entire time they were at that diner, he kept staring at the door like he was hoping someone specific would walk in.”
Your breath catches. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he’s too stubborn to admit that he misses you. And you’re apparently too much of a coward to fight for him.” Jay crosses his arms. “Look, what you did was shitty. We all agree on that. But Sunghoon isn’t some innocent victim in all this either.”
“Yes, he is—”
“No, he’s not. He put you on a pedestal. He built up this image of you as this perfect girl who chose him over everyone else, and he didn’t give you room to be human. To make mistakes.” Jay pauses. “I’m not saying what you did was okay. But I am saying that relationships are complicated, and people fuck up, and maybe if you both actually talked to each other instead of suffering in silence, you could figure this out.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Have you actually tried? Like, really tried? Or did you just accept his initial reaction and give up?”
You don’t have an answer to that.
“That’s what I thought.” Jay heads for the door, then pauses. “He’s going to that hiking trail. The one he took you to. He goes every Sunday morning. Maybe you should accidentally run into him.”
“Jay—”
“Or don’t. Keep wallowing in your guilt and let him keep wallowing in his hurt. But I’m telling you, you’re both miserable apart. So maybe it’s worth at least trying to be miserable together.”
He leaves, and you stand in your apartment, his words echoing in your head. Maybe it’s worth at least trying.
Sunday morning dawns gray and overcast, threatening rain.
You almost take it as a sign to stay home. But you’ve spent two weeks being a coward, and you’re done with that.
You dress in the same athletic clothes you wore the first time Sunghoon took you hiking. No makeup, hair pulled back. This isn’t about looking good. This is about being honest.
The drive to the trailhead feels both endless and too short. Your hands shake on the steering wheel, and you have to give yourself a pep talk in the parking lot before you can get out of the car.
Sunghoon’s Honda Civic is already there.
He’s here.
You start up the trail on unsteady legs, every step feeling monumental. The trees are mostly bare now, leaves crunching underfoot, fall having settled fully into the world while you were busy falling apart.
You find him at the clearing overlooking the lake, sitting on the same flat rock where you first kissed him. His shoulders are hunched, head down. Even from a distance you can see the exhaustion in his posture. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping any better than you have. You step into the clearing.
He hears you immediately, head snapping up. When he sees you, his expression cycles through surprise, pain, anger, and finally settles on something carefully neutral.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“I thought I made it clear—”
“I know. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and if you still want me to leave after that, I will. I’ll never bother you again.”
A long pause. Then he gestures stiffly to the rock beside him.
You sit, leaving space between you, and for a moment you both just stare out at the lake. The water is choppy today, reflecting the gray sky.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “I know that’s not enough. But I need to say it again. What I did was cruel and selfish and unforgivable, and I hate myself for it.”
“Why did you do it?” His voice is quiet. “Was I really that much of a joke to you?”
“No. You were never a joke. That’s the thing—you were supposed to be. It was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to play a part, win the bet, and move on.” You take a shaky breath. “But then I actually got to know you. And everything changed.”
“When?” he asks. “When did it become real?”
“Maybe when you brought me coffee without being asked. Maybe on Heeseung’s balcony. Maybe the first time you made me laugh for real.” You look at him. “I don’t know the exact moment. I just know that somewhere along the way, pretending became impossible because what I felt was completely real.”
He’s quiet. You press on.
“I saw you at the diner with your cousin. I thought she was someone you were moving on with, and it destroyed me. The idea of you loving someone else—” Your voice breaks. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t just accept losing you without a fight.”
“Jay told you she was my cousin,” he says flatly.
“Yes. And Heeseung told me you still had feelings for me. And Jake—” You pause. “Jake warned me weeks ago to tell you the truth. I should have listened.”
“You should have told me from the beginning.”
“I know. I was a coward. I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow, and then tomorrow became two weeks, and then it was too late.” Tears stream down your face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. That my love for you is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
Sunghoon is quiet for so long you think he’s going to ask you to leave. Then he speaks.
“I’ve been miserable without you,” he says roughly. “I’ve been trying to be angry. Trying to hate you. But every time I come here, I think about kissing you on this rock. Every time I tutor someone new, I compare them to you.” He exhales. “I told my cousin about you. She called me an idiot for not hearing you out.”
Something flickers in your chest. “You talked about me?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He finally turns to look at you, really look at you, and his expression breaks open. “You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah.” He reaches out hesitantly, brushing a tear from your cheek. The touch sends electricity through you. “I missed you.”
“I missed you every single day.”
“I want to forgive you,” he says slowly. “But I’m scared. How do I trust you again? How do I know this isn’t another performance?”
“You don’t. Not yet. I can’t hand you trust—I have to earn it back. Slowly, honestly, for however long it takes. I’ll be transparent about everything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll do whatever it takes.” You lace your fingers through his. “Just don’t give up on us before we even try.”
“You’d go to therapy?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
He looks down at your joined hands. “I really loved you. Love you. Present tense. I can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I try.”
“Then don’t try.” You move closer, until your knees are touching. “Let me love you back. For real this time.”
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, something has shifted.
“No more lies,” he says firmly. “No more games. If we do this, we do it honestly. Complete honesty, always.”
“Complete honesty. Always.”
He leans in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don’t.
When his lips meet yours, it’s careful at first, tentative—like you’re both afraid of breaking something fragile. But then you’re kissing him deeper, pouring everything into it. All the guilt, all the love, all the desperate hope that you haven’t destroyed something irreplaceable.When you finally pull apart, you’re both crying.
“I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Even though I probably shouldn’t.”
“We’ll make this work. I promise.”
“We’d better.” He squeezes your hand. “Can I take you to breakfast? Somewhere new. Not the diner.”
“New memories,” you say softly.
“New memories.”
He stands and offers his hand. You take it.
Three months later, you’re back at the library table by the windows.
Actually studying this time. Sunghoon is beside you, working on his thesis, occasionally stealing your coffee or reaching over to help with a problem. His hand finds yours between pages, a habit neither of you noticed developing.
Things aren’t perfect. There have been arguments, moments of doubt, nights where old wounds reopened. But you’ve worked through them. Therapy helped. Honesty helped more.
Mina waves from across the library. Jake gives you shit sometimes, but it’s affectionate now. Heeseung and Jay have folded you into the group like you were always there.
Your life looks different. Quieter in some ways, fuller in others. Less performance, more presence.
“Want to get out of here?” Sunghoon asks, already packing up his bag. “I know this hiking trail…”
You laugh. “Always with the hiking.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He takes your hand. “Come on. Let’s go make some more memories.”
Park Sunghoon was never just the biggest nerd on campus.
Saint’s Dream - Sex!addict!Jake x ChurchGirl!Reader
Content & Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Mention of religion and sins, our boy discover he's an obsessed sadist, reader with inferiority complex and anxiety/Panic attacks, coercion smh, fingering, dry humping/grinding, cum play, Two-faced Jake Sweet → Menace, Obsessed Jake/reader, sub/dom dynamics, soft dom, degradation+praise, kink mention of paraphilia, Overstimulation (r), Slight mind-breaking (r),public, edjing, Dubcon? (mostly in Jake’s head), messy heads, tits lover, marking, breedingkink m, morally gray jake, blasphemous language
WC: 13k~ (didn't really proof read I was sleepy and ovulating on top...enjoy)
You hate Jake Sim. Oh god how you hate this man.
Obviously you do. Because if you didn’t, then every humiliating, small, invisible thing you feel around him would just be…
You.
It’s a thing as old as the day both of you met. This strange inferiority thing you have, that made his kind gestures poison. Cause he’s just so… Jake coded. “Need a hand?” this. “Let me do it for you.” that, always said with that hand-over-heart sincerity. Like some benevolent little saint sent down to rescue the less fortunate. Which, apparently, is you.
And you…
You never refused. or gave him attitude. Cause refusing a guy like Jake would require admitting you resented him. That something about you was wrong.
That you can’t stand the way he outshines you without even trying. That you feel defective standing next to him.
After all, saints are meant to be loved. And Jake was loved by everyone. Everyone, except maybe by you. And eve’ this is not his fault.
It’s yours.
Because that poor Jake was charming in that infuriatingly unconscious way. Soft smiles, careful manners, a body sculpted like God spent extra time on him. Handsome, but acting like he has no idea. Perfect, but almost apologetic for it. Like: Sorry I’m everything you’re not.
He says your name when people praise his grades. Bumps his shoulder against yours when he takes first place and you settle for second. As always.
He leans in too close and murmurs, “Next time, for sure,” with those earnest, pity-puppy eyes, while you fell the anxiety eat you alive.
Even his family, is so aggressively perfect it almost feels satirical.
Rich, but the kind that doesn’t flaunt it because they don’t have to. The kind that somehow raises children with “healthy expectations” instead of generational trauma. No dramatic pressure to be extraordinary. No threats of disappointment. Just effortless excellence, passed down like heirloom silver.
Of course he’d turn out like this.
Perfect.
A saint.
A saint who’s soccer team captain. Your science club president. First seat in violin after school, always a damn chair ahead. Debate club’s crowned prince. The only person you can’t out-argue no matter how long you stay up preparing weeks before. First on the merit board like it’s a birthright to be above yours.
Choir member. Church darling. While you’re just… there. Another girl in a modest skirt trying not to sing off-key.
Even most cited youth volunteer. Which is impressive. Truly. Especially considering you were the president for the past two years.
Two years…
And still it’s his name the pastors say during sermons. “Well, look at Jake,” they’ll say, smiling at him in the third pew. “That’s the kind of young man you should all aspire to be, bla, bla, bla…”
And everyone nods.
You nod too.
Because what else are you supposed to do?
It’s not his fault he excels at everything you bleed for. It’s not his fault people light up when he walks in. It’s not his fault that when you stand next to him, you feel like a smudge on a polished surface.
But it’s easier to think it just is. And in some kind of outragious way it is, because Jake doesn’t even try. That’s the worst part.
He just exists. And somehow, that’s enough to eclipse you.
Because Jake is just everywhere your eyes linger. Everywhere, that’s the problem.
Everywhere you try to excel, every space you polish yourself into something worthy of praise, he appears with effortless and radiant victory, just to cut the grass you were saving for yourself. That brief, intoxicating thrill of being seen, favored, recognize? He reaps it first. Always… first.
You wanted to be him somehow. You mean like him. Perfectly perfect. Still being around him too long made you feel sick—like you were about to throw up and spiral straight into a panic attack.
You were just too much obsessed by him to realize your own outstanding value and charms.
For you, if Jake is virtue, then you are an inventory of sins. If he is modesty, you are secret pride. If he look content, you are greedy.
And if he is purity, sealed neatly behind that chastity ring gleaming on his finger and cross on his neck, then you are pure lust on any kind of attention you could get.
The kind that makes you reckless especially.
The kind that pushes you toward the forgettable fuckable boys at debate regionals. That you let stand a little too close, just to prove you can be wanted too.
The kind that makes you accept wandering hands because it feels good. Because being desired, even just cheaply … Is still being desired?
Sunghoon, for example.
The priest’s youngest assistant. The youth center instructor. Technically too old to look at you the way he does.
But he does. Just now, from the side of the nave, while Father prepares his sermon, his gaze drags over you like he’s already decided he’ll need help moving furniture later at youth session, as always.
You readjust the thin strap of your summer dress, whipping sweat from your neck, boxed into the corner of a wooden pew near the aisle, in that too hot, too old damn of a church in that too small of a town.
The priest clears his throat. Then, almost ceremonially says:
“Anyone under seventeen is dismissed.”
Wood creaks. Shoes scrape. A ripple of confused laughter moves through the congregation as teenagers are herded out, faces pink from heat, whispers louder and louder.
The doors close. The lock sounds heavier than it should. The priest lifts his head.
“Tonight,” he says, “we will speak of the subject of sexuality.”
Your fingers freeze mid-twist in the hem of your dress. Mindlessly exposing your knees.
Half the room low gasps. Someone snorts. Others laugh a bit too loudly, people your age crane their necks, searching for accomplice in embarrassment. Even you turn your head, looking for your friends to share an amused, disbelieving smile with.
And all of you are suddenly curious and aware, and maybe a little dumb.
After it’s the kind of subject we only speak about once a year.
That’s when you see , him. Jake. From the corner of your eye.
Jake’s sited two rows back across the aisle, just behind your friends and their families. Spine straight. Hands clenched on his thighs. Face calm, reverent, unreadable. The saint at rest.
Except—
He look a bit more tired than usual. His eyes dip, just for a second—
To your knees.
To the wrinkled fabric you’ve been worrying on. Then his gaze snaps up, colliding with yours. you don’t even stand it a second and just directly turn back around, that “sorry for existing typa behavior” that you hate about yourself.
It couldn’t have been more than two seconds. Two awkward, desert-dry seconds.
When you risk a quick glance, His attention is back to the priest like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t been looking at you at all. Like you imagined it.
Jake? No way. He doesn’t look at you like that. He actually doesn’t look at anyone like that.
Suddenly you feel wrong. Like maybe your dress is stained and no one told you. Maybe there’s something on your face. Maybe your knees look awkward. Too bare. Too obvious. Too much.
You resist the urge to check. To wipe at your mouth. To smooth your dress again. To twist around and confirm whether Jake’s still looking — or if he ever was.
Good girl. Be still. Be quiet. You don’t turn around. You don’t look for Jake. At Jake. You don’t ask yourself why your pulse hasn’t settled.
Because the priest has begun.
“Desire,” he says, as you take your deepest breath, “is not a sin in itself. It is a trial.” His voice is calm and practiced. “The body,” he continues, “is a battlefield. What you do with it determines whether you rule it or whether it rules you.”
You swallow, lowering your eyes fading in your cogitations.
“There is submission,” he says, “and there is domination. Both exist in God’s design. The danger lies in confusing control with righteousness.”
Your thighs press together before you realize you’ve moved, wrinkling the white fabric of your dress some more.
“Purity,” the priest continue, “is not ignorance. It is discipline.”
You listen.
But do you really? Yeah, god made everyone imperfect, yeah there’s a plan. yeah, the doctrine. Original sin and all that. Maybe yours is that ugly, gnawing need to be wanted. To be looked at and not overlooked. To be desired down to the bone.
And somewhere between the pulpit and the pew—wedged awkwardly between your faith and that gnawing little knot of guilt in your chest—you start to wonder if you’re really the only one here fighting off thoughts that have absolutely no business being inside a church.
Surely not. Statistically, that would be ridiculous. But—-your eyes scan discretly around you—if there are secret perverts sitting politely between the hymnals and the folded hands, and somehow it isn’t you… then who, exactly, is it?
You caught the priest assistant, Sunghoon lingering a look on you at that right fucking moment, as you regain consciousness and stop bit your lower lip. He’s giving you that one look that tells : you’re doing a remarkably poor job of pretending purity princess.
You’re asking for it, huh, he’s probably thinking.
You try to get it together, while your thoughts misbehave. Spectacularly sharing them thru eyes contact with that Sunghoon guy.
Maybe you’re ovulating. That has to be it. Because why else would your mind go there—imagining him in those same church clothes he’s wearing now, backing you into the confessional, crowding that small space until there’s nowhere left for you to escape. Just to force his hand under your already humid and smiring with anticipation panties, like he has some right to check. To make sure you’re still what you’re supposed to be. Still a good girl. Still unprepared, unready, unstretched.
Just to leave you, legs parted, wanting more, with your juice drying on his finger for his own fun.
you can almost feel those cold, veiny hands on you—enough to make your back oh so lightly arch before you can stop yourself.
Reality comes crashing back the moment your parents stand up. The sudden rustling of people around you breaking your… very unchurchlike train of thought.
Incredible. Truly. Your brain picks church—of all places—for that.Fucking get a grip.
Most of it, you missed. You rise in a too quick move, smoothing your dress with hands that are too sweaty, slipping into the current of families clustering together, voices overlapping in familiarity.
You’re fine with this part. This is not the reason you take three type of diferent pills to calm your anxiety. You greet people automatically. Smile where expected. Nod at the right moments. Ask polite questions you don’t really care about.Your normal social self.
It’s only when you notice who your parents are greeting now that something in you tightens.
Jake’s parents.
Of course…
Your mother hugs his with the kind of warmth she reserved for people she’s already decided are good and above, and his father easily laughs with yours.
And you? You angle your body away on instinct, already planning your escape to the youth group, when your mother’s voice cuts in.
“Don’t just hover,” she says. “Say hi, love.”
“Ms Sim, Mr Sim” you reply smoothly bowing your head, with that shy smile, greeting and chatting as you try hard not to look at Jake, “…I’ll go catch up with friends, have safe trip home.” You bow, almost excusing yourself.
but your mom raises an eyebrow.
“You’ve been ‘catching up’ for weeks. Stay here. It’s impolite.”
Before you can try countering, Jake’s mother steps closer as elegant and unhurried as always, smiling like she knows exactly how things are supposed to go.
“Jake,” she says gently, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. “Why don’t you to go join the group too. Walk her over, okay?” It’s perfect. Kindness, handled exactly how you wished you mom would have.
His mother gives you the“good girl eye” the one in between “if I had a daughter like you…” and “my poor child…” you’re used of reiveving from her since childhood.
Jake turns to you. You meet his eyes too late, then look away too quickly.
There it is. This, is the part you’re bad at. Not people. Not conversation. Just him. Just Jake freaking Sim.
Because around Jake, you’ve always felt this… The gap. Since middle school. Since spelling bees and gold stars and teachers comparing you with soft smiles.
Your effort, his ease, you studying until 2 a.m, and him just existing.
“Sure,” he says, like there was never another option.
Shit, shit, shit. You start feelling it… The anxiety.
Jake falls into step beside you down the aisle, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, shoulders close enough to look friendly, far enough to stay saintly, just socially acceptable. An d you only want one thing : get away. Just to calm that thing that is going on in your stomach.
You don’t realise, but Jake can feel your tension radiating like heat. Your shoulders rigid, your eyes everywhere except on his face, and your stomach probably hollowing out with that familiar unconfortable churn you get whenever he’s near.
He’s memorized it by now: the way you try to straighten your spine, pretend you’re fine, pretend he doesn’t make you want to puke from nerves and something else.
God, it’s pathetic.
And it’s perfect.
You, are so perfect.
He sees everything you try to hide, enjoy every little bit. The awkward fidget, the way your eyes dart anywhere. Every stutter, every forced smile, he catalogs it all.
Fuck, Jake wants to do you so bad it hurts; wants to shove you against the nearest pew, yank that dress up, and fuck until you’re crying his name instead of choking on it.
Keep it together, Jake. Golden boy. Church darling. You can’t let the mask crack.
“You alright?” he asks, voice light—like he’s just the nice guy checking in, as if he wasn’t getting off on your every reaction.
“Hm?” You blink up at him, wide-eyed, caught off guard.
It’s brilliant, that deer-in-headlights thing you do, it just, never gets old.
His gaze drops. Lower. To those fingers you’ve been white-knuckling since the sermon started. “You’ve been clenching your hands all night.”
Your eyes snap down. Fingers guilty half-second too late. And your anxiety rize. Jake can practically see it takes form…
Good.
“I… didn’t realize,” you mumble, voice barely there, with that akward smile.
“I know...” Jake is mesmerized, he watches your breath hitch. You’ve been doing this all service, twisting those fingers like they’re your only anchor. And yeah, he’s been watching. Longer than tonight actually. Longer than you’ll ever guess. “I mean,… I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well,” he continues, “You looked tense.”
A small, strangled laugh escapes you—like you’re one wrong breath from vomiting. Fuck. That sound shoots straight to his cock. He wants to push harder, make it a bit worse, make you dizzy with it maybe. But he need to control himself, If you ever realise, if you ever guess that he’s getting off on your disconfort it’s the end.
“No, I—it’s just a bad habit.” Your hands flap uselessly. Awkward smile plastered on. Stop, he imagines you screaming internally. He almost smirks.
He hums instead. “You should stop.” Another beat. Thin and charged. “I mean…” his eyes drop to your dress. “Look here.”
Jake brushes the threadbare spot you’ve been torturing. Two fingers. That’s all. No grab, no force, just the lightest graze, and your reaction is immediate.
He watches it ripple: pressure sinks through fabric, heat blooms, shiver rockets up your thigh. Goosebumps explode across your legs. Breath snags hard. Thighs twitch in the slightliest way together, desperatly, before you clamp them still.
Fuck. He wants to spread those thighs so bad right now, make you twitch for hours—-Stop! Keep it together, Jake. Control it.
He should stop, he need to. But teasing you is so addicting. “Look,” he murmurs, with that softer smile tilting, almost fond. “its thinner here… than here.”
His veiny hands doesn’t retreat. His fingers slide, slow, deliberate, along the curve of your thigh. Fabric bunches between histhumb and forefinger. His knuckles drag bare skin for three perfect, torturous second. Warm and rougher than you expected from him.
You hadn’t noticed the wear. But he did. On every spot of every cloth you were around him.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Right…” You say taking a step back.
hm? Are you trying to get away? Maybe he did go a bit far, he think. but…
“You’ll stop?” Jake say gently enough to make you doupt if it is a question or a soft command.
And you nod, more like a reflexive. But to him it’s like you’re being obedience, a pathetic state of you that make his dick twitch. You, doing everything he order you to.
He doesn’t move. Tempted to try a bit more.
“Don’t just nod.” It’s almsot imperseptible but his voice drops lower.
“Say yes.”
Your mouth goes dry—he sees the swallow stick. Another traitor nod slips out that make him wanna grab on your jaw, but the word scrapes free finally.
“Y—yes.”
Fuck, Jake fucking loves it. His smile blooms full. The polite one everyone love, yeah. But in this case, he’s just satisfied. Pupils flaring wide for half a heartbeat.
His hand twitches toward your head, like he wants to pat you, like a good pet, but suddenly he snaps out of his little ego trip and reroutes it to your shoulder, remembering he’s not supposed to be this blatant… but oh how he wants it.
Fuck it. It’s not the agreement that gets him half hard. Not even close. It’s the surrender in your personality. The way you surrender without a word, without a fight. How can you be this submisive, angel ? The way you don’t fight back. The way those doe eyes almost beg him to leave you alone… somehow that makes him go harder. Makes him need it.
At first, he didn’t get it. Why this pulls him in so much. Why the simple fact that you’re uncomfortable makes his brain—and apparently his dick—start running the show.
You too don’t get it yet.
Key word : yet.
To say all of this started with pity-hatred would be putting it mildly.
It was the first time in his entire fucking life Jake’s ever felt something so disgustingly potent crawl inside his chest. He still remembers the exact second you got him hopelessly addicted to the sick thrill of having power over you.
Two years ago, at the regional spelling bee auditorium, behind the scenes while everyone was rehearsing—the perfect little prodigy with your too-neat hair and modest knee-length skirt who was supposed to be untouchable— was in some other school senior's arms, pressed against a dark corner backstage’s curtain. His mouth on the side of your neck, leaving wet marks.
His hand shoved so far up under your skirt Jake could see the skin of your inner thigh flexing. And you moaned, a shy whimpering that punched straight through Jake’s balls, as your hips rocked forward shamelessly chasing for more.
That was that. The day Jake realized hate and want could live in the same heartbeat and feel exactly the same.
His first public hard-on. Right there sitting on folding chairs in front of hundreds, cock throbbing painfully against the zipper of his khakis while he watched you sitting down silently next to him. You, the only girl he’d ever really wanted, who got finger-fucked like she was starving for it minutes ago, and then spelling: Floccinaucinihilipilification.
You were his first real crush. His stupid, innocent puppy love.
His first heartbreak.
And—most importantly—his first real taste of rage.
How could you fucking dare give those sounds toa stranger. For days he observed you, just to realise his pure crush on you turned you into an angel you actually weren’t.
Those moans looped in his skull for weeks. The way your cheeks flushed such a violent pink. The glassy, faraway look in your eyes right before you came. The shuddering, thighs trembling, the tiny, broken cry slipping out as you soaked that bastard’s hand.
Jake came so hard that night he saw stars. Ropes of thick cum painting his stomach while his brain short-circuited, replaying nothing but your wrecked face over and over.
First time he’d ever jerked off thinking about someone specific.
First time he experienced the pleasure of rolling over and fucking a pillow thinking of a girl inner thighs while begging for repentance.
And first time he understood what it meant to want to own someone.
From that day forward it stopped being about trophies, debate medals, perfect report cards, or the endless parade of “suitable” playdates his mom tried to arrange. None of it hit the same as the urge to touch you.
Nothing got him stupidly, painfully hard like the fantasy of finally cornering you—maybe in the back stacks of the library where you always fall asleep with your cheek smushed against an open textbook, or in an empty chem lab after hours.
He daydreamed to wash your mouth out with his tongue until you tasted like him. Wanted to bruise the skin that should’ve always belonged to him.
Wanted to be the first—and only—one to rip new sounds and reactions out of that pretty face. He wished to experiment his new obsessions on you.
And suddenly he realised that every time he smiled that gentle, angelic, good-boy smile while quietly dismantling your confidence, your eyes would go glassy, stomach visibly clenching like you were trying not to cry right there.
And fuck, that made him leak in his briefs.
It was weird. And it was scary. The thought of being purposely bad to someone was against everything he believed in.
Still, no award ceremony, no valedictorian speech, no other girl ever gave him that same feral rush. Nothing got him harder, faster, than watching you shrink under his saintly cruelty.
It’s your fault. He persuaded himself. You, turned him into a sinner.
By the time you reach the youth group, voices overlap and the moment dissolves. You both join your friends suddenly aware of your own body in a way that feels like a low vibration under your ribs.
The group is seated in a loose circle, attention focused on Brother hoon, who sits on a low chair at the end of the circle, hands folded, expression impassive.
“As Father mentioned tonight,” he says, “desire is not something to fear. Strong feelings do not make us bad people.” He smiles softly. “They make us human. What matters is how love and understanding the path of god guides them.”
He looks around the circle.
“Does anyone have a passage they think speaks to that?”
Silence.
People avoid eye contact. Someone shifts. But Jake raises his hand without hesitation.
“John 3:16,” he says evenly. “It reminds us that love is intentional. Chosen. Sacrificial. And that sacrifices vanish a lot of sins.”
Nods ripple through the group. You hesitate, then speak before you can stop yourself.
“First Peter,” you say quietly. “4:9.” You swallow, then continue. “It says that above all, we should have fervent love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.”
Brother Sunghoon's smile deepens.
“That’s very good,” he says looking at you, “both of you.” You lower your gaze, warmth creeping into your face. Heat floods your cheeks. Oh, how pathetic it feels to crave that tiny scrap of recognition, like a dog waiting for a pat on the head. But from him? It's everything. You drop your gaze to your lap, fingers twisting the hem of your dress, a stupid smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.
Across the circle, Jake watches. He sees it all: the way your eyes light up for Sunghoon, the flush that creeps up your neck, the shy curve of your mouth.
Head over heels, aren't you? For that guy?.
Jake's jaw tightens. Your lips... His nails dig into his palms without him realising until he feels the warm trickle of skin tiring. Your lips, could smile at him instead. Why couldn’t they he’s always so good to you. So gentlmen. You could at least thank him for always having you in his mind. those same soft lips of yours you btting nervously could be parted around his cock as a thank you, no? You could look at him with those same shy eyes, through those long lashes, begging for that guidance he will surely give you better than anyone else. He’d be so good to you if you letted him. He clenches harder.
You have no idea the storm you're stirring in him, do you? All innocent and fluttering for the wrong man. Fuck he’s doing it again…
Jake reajust himself in the chair, hopping no one noticed, and study keep going until brother Sunghoon claps his hands once, gentle but decisive.
“Let’s do this, for this week exercise” he says. “I want you to pair up with someone,” he gesture, encouraging. “talk together about a desire, something, anything. that is stuck within you and let the other one show acceptance and understanding. It’s about recognizing when it isn’t ours to indulge, and how understanding it helps us accept it, then guide it. Not repress it as a danger. But how to dominate it.”
Murmurs spread. People already turn toward safe friends, prepping harmless confessions: I procrastinate so much…, I love junk food, I desire to skip Bible study sometimes, oops, haha. You do too, wayving at your friend, already scripting something bland and forgivable in your head. Something oh so harmless, that anyone could say “it‘s okay! How about journaling about it?” to.
Then Brother Sunghoon adds, almost offhand adds“Let’s keep it simple… I’ll pair you.” He starts calling names. Your heart drops with each one. Until he reaches you.
“You… With… Jake.” He smiles.
NO.
No,no,no,no.
Your breath catches, sharp and shallow. The room tilts a little. Why you? What could you possibly tell him? Something safe, or... God, what if anything slips out? He’s that good at talking people thru… Your hands tremble, chest tightening like a shrinked shirt. Air feels thin. It’s is a trap, isn't it? Another way for him to see how beneath him you are—frumpy little you, with your buttoned-up blouses and anxious fidgeting, spilling your soul to perfect Jake. Why does it have to be him? Your pulse hammers in your ears, vision blurring at the edges. Breathe. Just breathe. But your lungs won't cooperate, and the panic coils tighter.
He flashes that pure, trustworthy smile everyone melts for, raises his hand in a small, casual hi~ wave. Your friends shoot you those smug, giddy looks—“You’re so lucky!”—like this is some divine rom-com moment.
For one wild second you consider faking illness. Clutching your stomach, bolting for the bathroom, anything. God must be punishing you. This is divine retribution dressed in flannel and soft brown eyes. Or maybe Jake engineered it, whispered to Sunghoon, pulled strings. No, that's paranoid. But the thought makes your stomach churn harder.
“Keep in mind,” Sunghoon adds brightly, “accept with open arms. Show your partner grace. Try to find healthy paths forward together.”
Open arms…
Everyone stands.
You hesitate half a beat too long—long enough that Jake notices—then force your legs to move. Chin up. Shoulders squared. You flash him the smile you’ve practiced in mirrors a hundred times: sweet and polite, that you think look effortless. No one would ever guess how much it costs you, how your heart's racing like it's trying to escape your chest.
You meet him halfway across the room.
“So,” he says quietly, leaning in just enough that his voice stays private, “where do you wanna do this?”His tone is light. Curious. As if the answer doesn’t matter at all. and some jaleous girls side eyes you.
But, the answer genuinely doesn’t matter,.
No it actually does.
It matters so much your throat is closing around it. You need open space. People. Fresh air. A clear line of sight to the bathroom so you can bolt when the panic claws up your esophagus and you have to puke your shame into a toilet stall. Anywhere but—
“I think…” You chew the inside of your lower lip raw, teeth catching skin. Your hand drifts up, nails slidding between your teeth before you even register the motion. Bite. Release. Bite again. You scan the room like there’s an escape hatch nobody told you about. “Anywhere. Anywhere’s fine…”
Jake watches the whole pathetic performance. A second too long. His eyes darken, pupils swallowing the soft brown until they look almost black. He’s already picturing it: those same nervous teeth replaced with something thicker, your lips stretched and glistening, shy eyes flicking up at him while you choke on praise and drool. Fuck. He’ll break that nail-biting habit one day. Replace it with better habits. On your knees. Swollen mouth. Full of him.
“Study room, downstairs then.”
No.
No!!
The word screams in your head but your mouth stays shut. Those coffin-sized side rooms. No windows. No air that isn’t recycled through his lungs first. No witnesses. Bathroom a whole hallway away. You’ll suffocate. You’ll die in there. You’ll—
You nod too fast. Legs move on autopilot. You trail half a step behind him like a scolded puppy…
Inside, the room is smaller than you remembered. Sterile. Dim. One lamp throwing long shadows. Just a table against a the wall. Two chairs. Jake fucking Sim.
And your heart hurts. You want to go home…
Jake let's you go in first and the room is small you can just smell the clean cotton of his shirt and the faint cedar of whatever cologne he wears. He pulls out your chair, oh so gnetlemenly, and you drop into it so fast the legs scrape. You curl your hands into fists so he won’t see the trembling.
When Jake joins and sit… he’s too damn close. His knees bracket yours, because there isn’t anywhere else to be. You decide to make an exercice out of trying to keep yours sealed tight long enough not to touch his.
You fold your hands on the hem of your dress and suddenly flash back to when Jake told you to stop hits.
You stop.
He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. And you stastically are. Because it’s hard to calm your heart by pointing at five things in a room where the. things you see are a lamp and Jake. The silence settles, not really awkward. but as present as a third person you almost count.
Your eyes locks on the door handle behind him. He locked it. Of course he locked it. Why did he locked it? And why is there no window in the room. why is there no ventilation too? No other sounds than your breathing slowly catching.
Your vision blur in the corners.
Shit, shit, shit.
Jake tilts his head, gets closer, concern creasing his brow in that perfect, practiced way. “Hey… you okay? You look…” He pauses, voice dropping softer. “You look a bit stressed.”
Liar. He’s not concerned. He’s enjoying every seconds. You can’t feel it too much in your own head, to see the way his gaze drags over your flushed cheeks, your bitten lip, the slow frantic rise and fall of your chest. Your panic is turning him on and he hates himself for it and he loves it more.
“I—I’m fine,” you whisper. Your tongue feels thick. “Just… It’s hot. In here.”
fuck it’s almost summer, and the church can’t have a window or some kind of fan in a corner.
“You sure?” He leans forward. Elbows on the table. Closer. “Your hands are shaking. You’re pale.” His fake worry drips from every syllable like honey. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
You want to scream leave me alone. Instead your mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. His finger shyly catch on chin to makes you look at him. And nausea surges, hot climbing your throat. The room spins. You lurch to your feet.
Bad idea, angel.
Your legs give out like wet paper. You don’t even stumble gracefully, you literally crumple forward, knees hitting the floor hard between Jake’s spread thighs, nails scraping at the wood between his leags. The impact jars up your spine, but the real pain is the way your chest locks tighter, air refusing to come in more than frantic little sips.
He freezes for half a heartbeat. Eyes wide. Then something darker flickers across his face.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Hey—hey, I-I think you’re having a panic attack.”
He should call for Sunghoon. He knows he should. Yell. Open the door. Get the saintly brother in here to lay hands and pray he can calm your allergy to him.
But he doesn’t move.
Instead his hands shoot out.One clamping around your jaw, firm enough to tilt your face up to his, the other slids to cradle the back of your neck just like he’s been rehearsing in his dreams for months.
“Easy,” he murmurs, thumb stroking once along the edge of your lower lip—almost tender. “Breathe for me, okay? You’re safe. Just breathe.”
You try. God, you try. But your lungs are made of stone. Your vision swims. Tears already sting the corners of your eyes because everything feels too loud, too close, too him.
Jake’s jaw ticks. His voice drops lower. “Come here.”
He hauls you up, not roughly, but with purpose, straight into his lap so you’re straddling him face-to-face. Your knees bracket his hips on the narrow chair; your dress bunches high on your thighs. His hands stay where they are: one still gripping your jaw, the other curled possessively around the back of your neck, keeping you from looking away.
You’re close enough to see the flecks of brown in his dark irises, the tiny scar on his upper lip, the way his pupils have blown wide. Close enough to feel every ragged exhale fan across your mouth.
“Still not breathing right,” Jake says, voice low, almost disappointed. His thumb strokes once along the seam of your lips, “open your mouth, angel.”
Your lips and eyes tremble, stay sealed. Terror and humiliation glue them shut.
He exhales sharply through his nose. Then two thick fingers push past your teeth without preamble. They hook over your tongue and press, stretching the soft inner skin of your cheeks until they pull tight, until your jaw screams from the angle. You gag hard, helpless, the sound is wet and obscene in the room you’re ashamed.
“Fuck,” he hisses, hips twitching once beneath you. His cock is already straining against his jeans, pressing insistently against your core through thin fabric. “Breathe, thru your mouth. In through your nose… out slow. Come on.”
You try—God, you try—but every inhale shoves his fingers deeper, every failed exhale drags more saliva spilling over his knuckles, dripping down your chin and his hand. Your tears stream freely now and a choked, broken whimper vibrates around the intrusion.
He groans low in his throat, head dropping back a bit to enjoy the show.
“You’re fucking killing me like this.”
His free hand slides down—under the hem of your dress and you jolt when it goes past the lace edge of your panties, until his palm flattens over your lower belly. Big. His hand is big. Spanning so much skin you feel tiny, fragile and kind of owned. He presses firm rhythmics. Up on the inhale, down on the exhale. Forcing your diaphragm to obey.
“Like that,” he whispers, breath mingling with yours. “Good girl. Follow my hand. In… out…”
The pressure make your insides wierd, his fingers stretching your mouth, petting your tongue like something precious turn your brain mushy. His palm grinds slightly more possessive, close enough to the fabric of your panties that your clit drags on the friction you can’t ignore. His head tips; his lips brush your temple once barely there.
“If you need to puke,” he rasps, voice cracking with restraint, “tell me, I don’t give a fuck.”
The words hit meaner than he usually speaks. He’s diferent more dominating. A soft, shattered sound tears from your throat: half sob, half plea. Drool glistens on his fingers, strings of it connecting to your swollen lips when he finally, agonizingly, slowly, withdraws them.
Three minutes. Maybe four. Your breathing stuttered, catched, steadied and now ragged gasps smooth into something almost even.
His hand stays splayed on your belly. You feels your hands again finally, resting on your thighs, when you look at them you catch on the buldge of is cock throbing beneath you with every shaky inhale you take. But you don’t look away, and not at him.
And jake doesn’t speak for a long beat.
Then, barely audible he says: “Better?”
Your tongue still tastes like the salt of his skin. You can’t answer too everwelmed, and suddenly fresh tears slip down your cheeks.
His thumb strokes once over your lower stomach, just gentle now.
“Shhh, Good girl,” he breathes. And the praise sinks into you like a cold patch on your fever, even as you tremble in his arms, with nowhere left to hide, “There you go,” he murmurs, voice all honeyed, post-crisis soft. “You’re okay, angel. Just breathe. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”
Jake speak in the same tone people use on scared puppies or crying kids. Like he handed you a participation trophy for almost blacking out in his lap.
You’re calm(ish). Breathing steady. Heart still hammering, sure, but no longer trying to punch through your ribs.
Jake, though?
Jake is not calm.
The thick, insistent ridge of him presses up against your core through his jeans and your bunched skirt. Hard enough that every tiny shift of your hips drags a low hiss from between his teeth. You feel it twitch when you swallow. Feel it throb when your breath hitches. He’s leaking through the fabric—you’re almost sure of it—and the realization makes fresh heat flood your face.
You can’t look at him.
Not for the next two minutes that stretch into a miserable eternity.
So you do the only thing your body knows how to do when cornered: you tuck your face into the warm crook of his neck. Hide there. His skin smells like cedar and clean sweat and something faintly metallic—like he’s been biting the inside of his cheek too. Your nose presses against his pulse. It’s racing faster than yours.
His hand slides up. Fingers card gently through your hair—slow, soothing strokes from crown to nape. Petting you like you’re fragile porcelain.
His other hand drops and settles high on your bare thigh, thumb resting just under the hem of your panties. Not moving. Just… there. Claiming space. Testing how long you’ll let it stay
How the fuck are you this cute? Jake thinks, jaw tight. Hiding in his neck like a scared little cat. All flushed and messy and still trying to be good.
But the next thought comes faster and uglier:
How do he turns this into you coming completely undone under me?
He turns it over in his head like a Rubik’s cube he already knows the solution to. Every angle. Every justification.
You’re already so wet. Jake can feels it. you’re shaking because you wants it too, you’re just too shy to admit it. I could fix that. He thinks. I could make you need me so bad you’d forgets how to breathe without my permission. Make you crawl. Make you beg. Make you thank him for every things.
This is toxic as hell.
But what if it’s good for both of you?
What if Jake could give you exactly what you’r too scared to ask for, and once he’d you experience it, maybe these sick thoughts will finally shut the fuck up? Like finally playing that one game you’ve been obsessing over for years, beating it in one all-nighter, and then never touching it again because… meh. Done. Satisfied.
Yeah… He’s bad at lying to himself…
“You feel better?” he asks quietly, lips brushing your temple.
You nod against his neck. Tiny. Barely there.
He exhales like he’s been holding the breath for centuries.
“You know…” His voice drops lower, almost confessional. “I get like that too. Around you.”
You freeze.
“Not… not exactly like that,” he adds quickly. “But I feel… off. Not myself. Wired. Like my skin’s too tight.”
Silence. But you can hear his heartbeat so distinctly.
You shift barely an inch, and realize too late how it looks: the straps of your dress fallen off your shoulders, hair a wrecked halo, cheeks stained and humid. You look fucked already and he hasn’t even kissed you nor touched you.
Jake’s bangs are messy now, falling into his eyes. He looks… different. Maybe hungrier. Less like the golden youth-group Jake and more like some guy who’s been starved and have his. first meal in front him.
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Jake half-smiles anf it’s devastating. You never saw him like that.
The thoughts flood back so fast he almost groans out loud.
He never really watched porn. Didn’t need to. But his brain’s been running a private channel starring you for months. You biting your lip when you’re nervous? Jake wants those lips on his cock instead. You tugging your hair when you’re frustrated? Jake want his fist wrapped in it while he fucks you till you cry. You fidgeting with your skirt hem? Jake wants to flip it up, spread you open, pull out dripping and smear the mess across your panties until you’re glazed and whimpering his name.
Jake’s fingertips graze a stray strand from your cheek. Your breath stutters. He smirks every time your eyes dart away.
“You’re uncomfortable around me, hm?”
You shake your head so violently your hair whips his chin.
He chuckles softly and dark. “It’s okay.” His humb traces your cheekbone now, slowly, deliberatly, cataloging every twitch. “I don’t mind. Actually… I kinda like it.”
His eyes follow his own touch like he’s hypnotized.
“You hate me?”
Another violent head shake.
“I won’t believe you if you don’t speak, angel.”
“I…” Your tongue darts over dry, bruised lips. You swollow dry.“I don’t hate you…” The whisper is so quiet it barely exists.
But it’s enough.
He readjusts under you. A deliberate grind that makes you gasp. and he smiles, soft and so fucking fond it hurts.
“You know…” His thumb drags over your bottom lip, pressing just enough to part it. “I tried everything to not think of this. Doubled prayer time, knelt till my knees bruised. Ran till I puked. Anything to exhaust my body, starve my mind. But the harder I tried to kill it… the clearer the pictures of you got. You. Just you. Every fucking time.”
“…What?” you whisper.
“I’m doing the exercise right now,” he says, voice cracking just a little. is head drops to your neck this time. He inhales deep your perfume, your fear-sweat, your arousal. “Fuck, it’s weird saying it out loud.”
Your heart skips a beat painfully.
“It’s just… I keep fantasizing. Obsessing. You’re the only one I think about when I—” He cuts himself off, lips brushing your skin. “I don’t know what to do. What should I do, hm? Tell me.”
Brother Sunghoon’s voice echoes in your skull like divine intervention gone wrong: Accept with open arms. he said Show your partner grace. he said. Try to find healthy paths forward together. He said.
Your hands fly to his shoulders gripping like he’s rock on your chest.
“You… what kind of thoughts?”
He fights the grin. Loses. It spreads slow and victorious across his face.
Got you.
He leans in until his mouth ghosts your ear.
“When you bite your lip? I want to replace your teeth with mine. Want to suck that plump little mouth till it’s swollen and you’re whimpering into my tongue.”
Your thighs clench involuntarily.
“When you chew your nails? I want them scratching down my back while I’m buried so deep you forget your own name.” You swallow. “Want to see those same fingers wrapped around my cock, slick and trembling, guiding every inch down your throat till you gag and swallow every drop I pump into you.”
His hand slides higher on your thigh—fingertips grazing the damp edge of your panties. Fuck what a pool.
“When you tug your hair? I want my fist in it. Pulling just hard enough to make your eyes water while I fuck your mouth slow. Pull out to wipe the mess across your lips like the lips balm you always put on and ends up licking. I want to make you taste how wrecked you make me.”
Jake’s touching you everywhere he shouldn’t under your dress. Grazing his way up your hips, teasing the small of your back, mapping out every spot he’s dreamed about ruining.
“Ahhh, sorry… it’s probably just wierd,” he lies smoothly, voice shy and coaxing. “I think it’s like, hormones and curiosity. Once I… do it. Once I get it out of my system, it’ll stop. I’ll be normal again.”
So that what it is. That’s what Sim Jaeyun had in his head all allong.
“You’ll accept this part me, hm?”
“Hm?”
He’s eyes are doing this puppy thing “…That’s what the exercise is for, right?”
Fuck… The exercice…
Your panties are soaked. You can feel it all hot and sticky, more than the fabric can hold. Your clit throbed in time with his words and he just don’t shutted up. You’re dizzy again, but for a different reason.
Maybe you’re trying to help. Maybe you’re just that far gone. Maybe you just want that buldge that much… And it’s okay.
Cause love and acceptance erase a lot of sins, no?
“You… want to try?” you whisper.
Jake thrives. His eyes darken and travel everyplace he want to touch, mark and own. “Will you let me?”
For a second you almost see that shadow behind the soft dark of his eyes, the part you never saw before, and think not anyone ever saw.
You’re too wet, too shaky and too lost in the heat radiating between you, to be able to think twice so—-
You nod.
“Say it.” His eyes beg, lips tasting your with a graze.
“Ok…Yes.”
He exhales like the war is finally over and he’s the only soldier left standing. “Good,” he breathes, thumb dragging slow across your bottom lip one last time, bitting his, like he’s sealing a contract.
And just like that, his daydream becomes reality.
Jake’s eyes go black, his pupils swallowing everything soft and church-boy-ish about him. They rake down your body like he’s already mapping every place he wants to bruise, bite, own. His hands flex and fingers twitching with the too many impulses that come at him in once: rip that dress? pin your wrists? spread you wide? make you cry his name? God itself shouldn’t witness the thoughts he’s having right now.
He’s still trying to convince himself that, this, is just hormones. Just a phase. Just the exercise.
But the lie is thinning fast as his dick take control over his brain.
“It’s your fault… I wasn’t like that before you,” he mutters, voice low and cracked. “You sat there with your smile, biting your lip, tugging your hair, fidgeting like a nervous little thing—and it’s like you’re begging me—to… Take control. You think that’s fair?”
You blink up at him, chest heaving. “Wh… why am I the problem? It’s your—”
He cuts you off by hauling you up effortlessly, spinning you until your ass hits the edge of the table. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, lays you flat on the cold wood. and yanks one of your legs high, hooking it over his shoulder.
He bites down on the inside of your calve and you iss, teeth sinking just enough to make pain bloom brightly and hot.
You yelp, and the sound bounces off the walls. He smirks against your skin, tongue flicking over the fresh mark. “Why so uncomfortable around me, hm? Allergic?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Shaking your head. Too shy. Too overwhelmed. Too wet. He lets your leg fall. Steps in closer, with one leg on the table, and leans down for your mouth.
You panic, your hands fly up, palms flat against his mouth, pushing him back an inch.
“What?” His voice drops dangerously soft against your palm.
You shake your head again. No. Not that. Not yet maybe.
“You said I could try anything,” he reminds you, eyes narrowing like a sad puppy.
“Not… not that.”
He looks unhappy. Jake jaw ticks, then his hand shoots to your jaw firmly, tilting your head to the side.His lips find the nape of your neck instead and sucks hard. He marks you, and you feel the bruise blooming already.
“I’ll make you beg for a kiss,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “I’ll make you crawl for it.”
His fingers hook the thin straps of your summer dress and with one smooth tug the fabric slides down your arms, pools at your waist, then drops to the floor entirely. You’re left in nothing but damp cotton white panties and your red Converse and white socks, shivering.
His palms cover your breasts too hard at first. You wince, brows pinching. He watches your face like it’s scripture. Adjusts. Squeezes again. Just a bit softer. Then harder. Jake is testing and learning every twitch, every hitch in your breath.
You finally open your eyes and meet his.
To realise he’s gone. Gone gone.
Not Jake anymore. Something trance-like. Pupils blown. Breathing shallow. Mouth parted like he’s receiving a vision.
“Jake…?”
“Let me see,” he rasps. “All the kinds of faces you can make.”
He drops his mouth on your nipple with his dark eyes on you. ANd feel his thick lips, fangs grazing. Tongue swirling slow, then flicking sharp. He captures everything: the way your fingers dig into his shoulders to push him away, the helpless rock of your hips against his bulge, the little space between your parted lips where silent cries keep slipping out.
He’s addicted.
He tries for your mouth again. And you block him. Again. He growls like an unhappy dog in his throat. Grabs your hips and jsut forces them down hard against his cock to make grind you along the length until you yelp and yelp and yelp again.
His thumb traces your lips. Slips inside. Hooks your cheek. Fuck, he loves this view: your brows bending in that perfect needy arch, eyes watering, lashes clumping. His favorite expression. The cry-baby you.
“God bless you for being such a perfect little cry baby,” he mutters. “He made you for me. Look at you. You’re built to fall apart under my hands, hm?”
Your brain short-circuits. What the hell is he saying? This isn’t Jake. This is—
Three fingers shove past your lips. Stretch your mouth wide. He hyperfixates—watching the way your tongue flattens, the drool that pools, the way your throat works around the intrusion.
“I always see it,” he says, voice wrecked. “You biting your crayons, your nails, your lips... Every little anxious quirk. Makes me want to replace them all. Want to fuck your mouth until you’re choking on me instead of anything else .”
You hear his zipper.
He’s stroking himself now, slowly, his head bumping against the drenched cotton between your thighs. Soft whimpers escape you both.
He stops everything. Focuses on the wet patch. The sticky mess you’ve made.
“Fuck… how can you be this wet?”
His thumbs presses and stroke everywhere you wet yourself, traces the shadow of your entrance through the fabric, firmly, slowy. And you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes darting to the door.
“Jake—someone could—”
He doesn’t hear you. He’s too far gone.
He keeps smearing your slickness, adding his own leaking precum until the white cotton is translucent, clinging, buried between your folds.
Both your breaths come faster, heavier.
“I want to fuck you so bad.” He notches the head against your clit with forces pressure. You jolt—whole body arching.
You stare at him, and a sudden realization hits: he’s touching a pussy for the first time. No?
He’s acting like he want to force it inside, but he doesn’t even know where and what it really looks like up close. He’s on instinct, hunger mode.
It’s thrilling. And it’s terrifying. He won’t listen. Won’t stop. So your trembling hand slides down. Brushes him. He’s veiny, swollen. So hard it hurts to touch.
He snarls. Grabs your wrist. Forces your fingers around his shaft. Makes you strock it.
“Fuck—”
You line him up—head nudging your entrance, with only the soaked fabric between.
He thrusts so shallow and desperate. The head pushes in stretching the cotton, stretching you. You arch violently. His breathing is obscene, so freaking loud and ragged.
“I’ll fuck you… fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad.”
He slams a palm on the table beside your head.
“Fuck—we can’t—” he say, but doesn’t stop. His thrusts turn erratic. Wet sounds fill the room rhythmic. Every shallow push forces the fabric deeper, almost tearing, almost letting him in.
“I want inside—fuck—I want to fuck you so bad.”
“I want to go so deep you scream.”
“I want to feel your clench around me.”
You’re close—too close—from the friction, from his wrecked expression, from the way he’s losing every shred of control. You grab his wrist, with your still trapped between his hand and his cock’s hand, and guide his fingers.
He follows. And memories flash him: the day he caught you getting fingered in secret. The way your hips bucked. The sounds.
He laughs dizzy, “I forgot… you’re a little slut, right?”
Two fingers shove inside you. No preamble. He just fuck your inside roughly. He curls. Scissors. Pumps. No pattern. Just chasing every reaction. Every flutter. Every jolt.
“How can a dick even fit in here, hm?” he mutters, completely out of his mind. “Fuck—”
Your orgasm builds terrifyingly fast. You try to fight it. Try to stay quiet. But the more you clench, the harder it hits. Your legs snap shut around his hand.
He watches from above, literally transfixed, as your body contracts, back bowing, thighs trembling.
Right when you’re about to tip over—
He pulls out. Completely.
You jolt. Thrash. Palm slams the table. Other hand clamps over your mouth. Legs convulse, and you see white for a second. The denial is stronger than any full orgasm you’ve ever had. And Jake drinks in every second—your arched back, your shaking thighs, the way you’re offering yourself without words.
Your back…
He grabs your leg. Flips you onto your stomach, the cold table shocks your nipples.
“Wait—”
He yanks your panties up so hard you’re forced onto tiptoes.
His cock slides between your fabric and ass. Its hot, thick, fucking the crease hard. Jake’s palm clamps the back of your neck and it cuts oxygen just enough to make your brain fuzzy, make everything narrow to the drag of him against you.
He grinds. Strokes your clit with the soaked cotton pulling. Faster. Faster. Meaner.
You both break at the same time. He groans and bites on the arm that hold you down, as hot and thick ropes of cum paint your back. Your legs buckle a bit a,d your orgasm crashes as silently as possible, shattering, legs trembling so hard you almost collapse.
Both of you are shaking. Breathing like you’ve run marathons.
It’s over.
But he grabs your arm. Pulls you down. You fall to your knees. “Let me see your face.”
He brushes sweat-damp hair back. You look exactly like his dream: wrecked. Lips swollen. Eyes glassy.
He towers over you. Cock still half-hard and leaking. You lean forward. Press your lips to the head, with your tongue flat against the thick vein underneath.
“Ahh—-” he snaps. One hand fist your hair. Thrusts shallow, fucking the last of his cum into your mouth, to gradually fuck the back of your throat.
You gag. Tears spill. And he loses it completely, watching the tears track down your cheeks, feeling your throat work around him.
“Fuck… that’s it. Take it all.”
ANd you take it all. Every shallow thrust into your mouth, every pulse against your tongue, every drop he spills down your throat, he watches like it's the holy prouf that he’s in fact one of god’s favorite. Your eyes water and tears track hot down your cheeks. You gag softly once, twice, but you don't pull away.
Jake groans low, wrecked, fingers tightening in your hair. "I love you," he rasps, voice cracking on the words like they've been clawing at his throat for months. "Fuck—I love you so much it hurts. I want you bad. So fucking bad."
He releases with one last shudder, flooding your mouth. You cough, choke a little, saliva and cum dripping from the corner of your lips as you gasp for air. Before you can even wipe your chin, he yanks your head back by the hair, sharp enough to make you gasp, and tries to crashes his mouth to yours—-
Then his phone buzzes—sharp, insistent, vibrating against the table like a slap back to reality. He. literally freezes. His lips one millimeter away.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He wanted this to never end. He pulls back slowly, breathing ragged, passing a frustrated hand in his hair and answers the call with shaking fingers.
You sink back onto your knees, dazed, chest heaving, trying to piece yourself together while the world rushes back in too loud, and too fast. You can't hear Jake’s conversation: just muffled voices, his low "yeah, Mom," "okay, got it." His free hand reaches for yours, squeezing once, grounding.
He mouths at you silently, puppy eyes soft again: You okay? With his phone still hooked between ear and shoulder, he reaches out, rearranges your tangled hair with careful fingers, wipes the tear tracks and spit from your cheeks with his thumb and sleeve. Jake helps you too, tug your dress back up over your shoulders like nothing happened.
The call ends, and you don’t even realise it. There’s only that strange feeling of calm in you, like the anxiety is gone. And maybe too much of Jake’s presence. There’s nothing. You just don’t think anymore. And it feels somhow so pleasing.
"Hey." Jake’s hand slides to the back of your neck, with a gentle pressure turning your face to his. "My mom called. Your parents got an emergency thing from work. We're taking you home."
"Hm?"
He studies your expression, you’re in the stars right now, and oh how he wish he could keep you there. A soft, fond smile tugs at his mouth. His eyes drop to your lips. He bites his own. Leans in. But you suddnely flinch, almost dodge again.
But he goes for your cheek instead. With a soft, chaste kiss. Just a brush of lips.
"It's okay," he murmurs against your skin. "I won't do anything you don't want me to." He shrugs off his jacket, drapes it over your shoulders. Leans close again, breath warm against your ear. "Sorry… for your back."
And the rest of that. damn night is blurs. Like a lucid dream.
You vagly get the church bathroom mirror, your lips swollen, neck marked you hidded under his jacket, the sticky mess on your lower back cooling under. If this wasn't church, if it wasn’t jake… And you, anyone with eyes would know exactly what happened.
The ride home… you don't remember words. Just the echo of Jake's mom asking if you have a fever, calling you "angel" in that sweet-mom voice while your thighs stick together and your pulse won't settle.
One solid fact was that he slipped a Snickers bar into your pocket—his pocket, technically his yeah, since you forgot to give his jacket back when you bolted from the car and ran hometo shower.
It's still on your nightstand weeks later. Melting slowly in its wrapper. Proof the fever dream was real. That the reasons your wetting your panties since, is Jake. Jake and the way used you.
And if you thought that one night would kill the anxious buzz you get whenever Jake's within five meters… Wrong.
Now it's worse. One look from him across the youth group room and you're rushing to the bathroom to wipe the insane rush of wetness between your thighs. And the slapping the idea of literally eating your nails in front of him with the expectation that he ends up fucking you hard some place.
Jake's side isn't better.
That night he slept better than he ever had. First weeks of summer felt golden. He thought he had you and basta. But you went from anxious-around-him to full avoidance. If it weren't for church services, the country club brunches, the upcoming youth group trip—he wouldn't even catch your shadow.
The dreams came roaring back. but Stronger. More vivid. More real.
He needs to see you. Hold you. Now.
The country club brunch is packed, linen tablecloths, clinking silverware, parents laughing too loud. And jake half-hard, eyes in void thinking of fucking you doggy style and bend you until you scream for him to stop.
You see him first. He catch you second trying to regain consciousness with his meter long eyespack. You’re across the lawn, through the crowd, eyes locked. Neither of you looks away. But in Jake head it might as well be an halucination.
His mom calls yours over and he snap. You’re here, like really here. More plates are insisted upon. "We need another setting—Jake, scoot over, sweetheart."
Your heart slams so hard you taste copper. By some divine cruelty (or blessing), you're seated right next to him at a table too small for five. Everyone chats: weather, golf scores, your perfect tenis perfs, college plans for both of you.
And—-
Jake's hand slides under the table. Under your tennis skirt. You freeze mid-sentence. His palm is bigger than you remember, rougher, hoter from whatever secret workouts he does to punish himself.
He squeezes your thigh hard. And you know what it is. A punishment. You try to keep your face neutral. Smile at someone's joke. His hand creeps higher. You yank his wrist away and bolt upright.
"Sorry—restroom."
You walk—fast—to the farthest one possible. When a hand catches your wrist near the doors. He drags you into some ladies' room stall. Locks it.
"Jake—what are you—"
"Why are you avoiding me?"
You're stunned silent.
Why? WHY?!
"You're even avoiding me now…" He crowds you against the wall. The stall is spacious and tiny at the same time. His body heat is everywhere. "I accepted you. You accepted me. For who we are. So why avoid each other?"
"What… what are you talking about?"
He bends. Mouth at your ear. "That you're a needy little slut…" Voice calm, natural, like he's reading the weather. "And I have weird… fucked-up desires about you."
You meet his eyes. And the scariest part is that he's not even trying to hide it. Just says it like fact.
"Are you… Jake…"
His head drops to your shoulder, kissing your neck. a hand slides to your hip. "I'm hard."
Your brain short-circuits.
"I still dream about you. It didn't go away. I fuck my hand remembering your throat squeezing me. Your insides clenching. I even got hard in the last days of school just because you finally stopped biting your nails."
You're breathing too loud and he straightens and locks eyes. His thumb grazes your lips. "Have you let someone else touch you?"
Head shake.
"Sunghoon?"
Shake.
"Any of the guys at the club?"
Shake.
His smile blooms slowly, victorious. "I knew it. So we're good to each other?"
"Hm?"
"I've been thinking about it, angel. About God's plan. Maybe we're meant for each other. Don't you think?"
You bat your lashes in pure incomprehension. He slides a hand around your neck, gently but possessive.
"I like to bully you…" He says as his thumb strokes your pulse. "And you love it when I use you. Right?"
He looks at you like a kid begging for the one toy he can't live without. And now the toy… Is you.
You've circled it in your head too. Mostly terrified he'd tell his friends, or confess it to father or any brother from the church. But once the panic faded with rationality… you realized… That, maybe, you never hated him.
You just wanted to be special. To someone. To him. The person everyone loves, and you couldn’t reach. To have something only you get from Jake. His dark dreams. His secret desires. Let that be yours. Only yours. The saint's secret dreams.
You nod.
He smirks. "Say it."
"…Yes."
His expression lights up brighter than when he won valedictorian last spring.
"You'll be mine?"
You shy half-nod. Eyes on his. "…hm."
"Good girl. My angel." He attacks, soft kisses everywhere except your mouth. Jaw. Cheek. Temple. Collarbone. Throat. Shoulder. Each one reverent. Worshipful. You melt. Your legs get weaker and weaker, but Jake wedges a thigh between yours to hold you up. He stops at your lips, with his thumb traces them.
"Why won't you let me kiss you?"
You whisper: "I… wanted to give my first kiss to my boyfriend."
He clicks with starry eyes, searching. "You've never been kissed?"
Another head shake. His pupils blow dark. Saint Jake is gone.
"Let me kiss you then."
"Why would I?"
"Let's date." He almost order you simply and logical. "How can I let someone else have you if you're mine? Let's tell our parents later. Let's tell everyone—so no one tries anything. wierd with you."
Very rich coming from him.
"I'll take such good care of you." He kiss your jaw. "I'll let you have anything you want." Kiss your neck. "I'll reward you when you're good. I'll help you with… everything…"
Anything? Really anything?
"Would you…” you hesitate, “Would you withdraw from head of youth group? Give my name?"
Jake smirks. "If you're mine… anything."
He closes the toilet lid and sits. Drags you forward slowly by the wirst. "Then… will you let me kiss you?"
You half-nod, but then whisper: "…Okay."
You lean in for a peck, but he pulls back.
"I want to see you on your knees. Come here… and beg me for a kiss."
Your heart jackhammers. But the idea… You don't hate it. So you execute. You sink on your knees on cold tile, yyes up at him. And just like that he exhales hard. Head falls back against the wall for a second.
"God… your eyes from this angle." His hand runs through your hair until his fingers find the rubber band and he slides it off. Jake twists it around his own wrist like a trophy. "I love how wrecked you look already."
You beg him for the first time, shy and softly trembling. "Please… kiss me."
He don’t even makes you wait of act up, Jake just pulls you up. And gives you your first kiss. His. No one else's. He's hungry. Hungrier. His lips bite yours, all gentle then sharp. His tongue sucks yours into his mouth like he's starving. It’s wet, and you try to move and wipe your mouth, with one hand Jake cups your jaw. The other fists your hair.
"No one would ever believe what's happening right now. Because it's me. And it's you."
He doubles down. Grabs the unspent hem of your skirt—the one you didn't realize you'd stopped fidgeting with, and stuffs it into your mouth.
"They could never imagine you're about to show me how wet you are by sliding these panties down and spreading your legs for me, right angel?"
"Or that you're gonna fuck yourself on my hand after."
an electric shock runs through your whole body. "And after I taste you… I'll keep your panties. So when I miss my angel, I can remind myself until I catch you again. Hm?"
He sits back. Stroking himself slow. Pulling your hair just enough to keep your eyes on his.
No one would ever guess.
He's right.
The end ~
Afterstory :
Just note that these two Never go all the way until their wedding night lmao. They got very creative but never really do it! (And yes five years into marriage, during one very drunk games night with the boys, Jake get cocky, lost a bet, and “lent” his wife to Jay for like… 15 minutes. He watched. He hated it. Never happened again. Lesson learned: some fantasies look better in his head than in real life. And keeps her all to himself like the possessive prayer-boy he still is. 😏
Anyway thanks for riding this rollercoaster with me at first the plot was reader turns 18 and can suddenly hear people desires (any cherrymagic lover in the room???) but then one day she try to wake up sweet pure ikeu and discover he's obssesed by her and somehow it turned into this shit tada.
Sleep tight, dream dirty love y'all and can't wait to hear you hehehehehe 💕
I'm tired... Lassiie...
MASTERLSIT
I summon the holy TG : Thk u so so much to my girlypop @jayjw16enxp@nithxhoon, @ikeuatic @puphees @raven-unkind @hoondrop @heekolazz @thesundys @w2hoonki @jaerisdiction @keuri @v-irtujake @moasshi @wonnies-girl @seungiesdoll @jakeintoit @s4eungie @scarett-lover23 @loveminlive @isagistar @aarriiaa1
GENRE/CW: fluff, smut, angst, porn with plot, dom!sunghoon, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), fingering, marking, dry humping, slight choking, making out, squirting, multiple orgasms, mentions of jealousy, possessiveness. hoon is clumsy and unnaturally strong, mentions of nicknames, mentions of jake, jay, hee, won, karina, lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 29.8k words
SYNOPSIS: when the university’s untouchable campus god accidentally walks into a doorframe the literal second he lays eyes on you, you realize the rumors about park sunghoon being a smooth player are completely fabricated. now, you get a front-row seat to him desperately trying to follow a ten-step wikiHow guide on how to flirt, except you start to think that his clumsy, pathetic devotion is the most attractive thing you have ever seen.
A/N: hihi loves <3 i know it has been a rough few days for us all, i hope this lewser (affectionate) hoon makes you all feel a lil better, take care angels <3
STEP ONE: Introductions by identity theft
Park Sunghoon prides himself on being calm and composed.
At least that’s what he tells himself, if you generously take out the part where he’s clumsy, socially catastrophic, and possesses the spatial awareness of a newborn puppy on ice. To the Uni at large, he’s—well, a concept? The campus god, as wattpad core as it sounds, he simply makes it seem that way. The guy who sits in the back of lecture halls looking bored and devastatingly handsome, presumably thinking about complex philosophical theories or his next modeling gig (he doesn’t have any).
In reality, he’s usually just thinking about whether it is going to rain or stressing over the fact that he held the door open for someone slightly too early, forcing them to do that awkward little run-walk, they were grateful regardless. It’s a fragile ecosystem, really. A reputation built entirely on the fact that he doesn’t talk enough for people to realize he’s actually a massive loser.
Only Sim Jaeyun knew the truth, along with Jay and Heeseung but yeah. Jake knew that Sunghoon isn’t brooding, rather, he’s buffering (as sad as that is). He knows that his oh so cold, mysterious silence is just Sunghoon’s brain playing elevator music (Wii party soundtrack preferably) while he tries to figure out how to function like a human being.
But tonight, Sunghoon feels good, he feels capable somehow. He’s wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, Jay is making pasta and garlic bread, and the dorm smells like home in the best way possible. He has one job—bring the cups to the living room. Jake had been going on about inviting a chaotic duo he came across at a gaming cafe, who absolutely destroyed him during gaming but that eventually led to him aggressively adopting them into his life out of sheer respect for the carry later.
Sunghoon peels the plastic sleeve off the stack of red Solo cups with a satisfying crinkle, feeling that same surge of confidence, headphones playing his favourite EsDeeKid song (Palaces), letting him vibe, completely blocking out the chatter and laughter outside. He steps out of the kitchenette, the bass in his ears vibrating through his skull, making him feel momentarily infinite. He is the main character in a very low-stakes indie movie, he is cool, he is ready to perceive and be perceived, or so he thinks.
And then his eyes land on the center of the living room, and the soundtrack in his head comes to a screeching, violent-ish halt. He expects noise—he can see Jake’s mouth moving rapidly, gesturing with a ladle like a weapon—but he doesn’t expect you.
You are already there, claiming the space in a way that makes the cramped dorm room feel suddenly, terrifically bright. You’re standing near the beat-up sofa, one sneaker kicked off and overturned on the rug, looking comfortably disheveled in a way that art directors spend hours trying to replicate. You’re in the middle of laughing at something another one of your friends said, and he doesn’t know his name yet—a full-bodied, head-thrown-back kind of laugh that Sunghoon can’t hear over his music but can feel in his chest anyway.
You look effortless, like you didn’t even try, yet somehow succeeded more than anyone else in the room. You’re wearing a simple white tank top tucked into vintage denim that fits perfectly, with a leather jacket slipping casually off one shoulder. Your hair is loose, framing a face that is currently lit up with pure, unadulterated joy, and your eyes are crinkled shut with mirth.
Sunghoon’s brain, usually a well-oiled machine of anxiety, simply—stops. The music fades into static, and his calm and composed narrative dissolves. Oh, he thinks, his grip on the plastic stack tightening until it crunches. Wow.
He is so busy processing the sudden, violent realization that you might be the prettiest thing he has ever seen that he forgets a fundamental rule of Newtonian physics, Pauli Exclusion Principle: two solid objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.
One of those objects is his broad, unsuspecting shoulder, the other is the wooden doorframe, and there’s a loud sound of collision—a bone-jarring impact that cuts right through his noise-canceling headphones and jolts his entire skeleton from the teeth down. The shockwave travels instantly to his hands, and the stack of red cups, liberated by the violence of the collision, explodes outward like plastic fireworks. They rain down onto the carpet in a chaotic, clattering cacophony that seems to echo for ten years, at least for Sunghoon.
Sunghoon freezes, vibrating with pain, staring blankly at a single red cup spinning sadly near his big toe. Slowly and painfully, he slides his headphones down to his neck. The room has gone dead silent.
The friend you were laughing with—the one with the cat-like eyes, stops mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open. Jake blinks slowly from the couch, profound confusion etched into his features. And you—you turn slowly, eyes wide, the laughter still lingering on your face as you take in the tragedy of the cups and the man currently trying to merge with the drywall.
“Holy shit,” the friend breaks the silence, abandoning his game to lean over the back of the couch, “you good, dude?”
Sunghoon stays very still, he is waiting for one of two things to happen—either for the floorboards to mercifully open up and swallow him whole, or for his body to spontaneously combust from the sheer, blinding force of his own humiliation. Neither happens, instead, the throbbing ache in his shoulder radiates down his arm, a dull, pulsing reminder that he is not, in fact, the protagonist of a cool indie film, he is a hazard.
Say something, his brain screams, make a joke, be charming. Recover for fucks sake.
“I’m good,” Sunghoon manages, though his voice comes out about three octaves higher than usual. He clears his throat, “I’m—yeah. Totally fine. Just—slipped.”
“You slipped?” The friend—Jungwon, he remembers Jake calling him—asks, eyebrows shooting up, “into the doorframe? Vertically?”
“The carpet,” Sunghoon says, pointing an accusing finger at the perfectly standard rug, “it’s deceptive man.”
From the floor, a soft snort erupts, It’s you. You aren’t looking at him with pity, which is what he expects. You’re grinning—a wide, genuine expression that scrunches your nose—and before Sunghoon can process the movement, you’ve dropped to a crouch in front of him to help with the plastic disaster zone.
“Deceptive carpet,” you repeat, the corner of your mouth twitching as you reach for a cup that rolled near his ankle.
Sunghoon’s ears are burning. He can feel the heat spreading down his neck, violent and undeniable. He drops to his knees out of a desperate need to avoid looking at Jake, who is currently burying his face in a cushion.
“Right, physics,” you drawl, and your voice is warm, teasing in a way that makes his stomach do a weird flip. You hand him a stack of cups you’ve gathered, “well, try not to fight any more inanimate objects tonight, okay? The dorm deposit is expensive.”
Your fingers brush against his knuckles as you pass the stack. His skin practically zaps where you touched him. Sunghoon flinches like he’s been electrocuted, nearly dropping the cups all over again. He looks up, terrified, and finds your face inches from his. Up close, you’re even intimidatingly prettier. You smell like vanilla and leather, and your eyes are dancing.
“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say easily, sitting back on your heels.
Sunghoon stares at you. He knows he needs to respond. The social contract dictates that he provides his own name in return, it is a simple exchange. Input: Name. Output: Name. But his brain is currently running on a backup generator powered by a single, terrified hamster, and gosh the hamster is tired.
“Uh,” Sunghoon starts, his voice cracking a little, then he clears his throat, “Y/N.”
He nods, “Right, you’re Y/N.”
You look at him, waiting.
“I’m—” Sunghoon trails off, looking at your eyes, they are very pretty. He looks at your mouth, you’re smiling, “I’m—Y/N?” He stops, eyes widening. No, that is incorrect.
“I mean—” He waves a hand frantically, nearly knocking over the stack of cups he just rescued, “You’re Y/N! I’m Sunghoon. Yeah. Yeah—you’re Sunghoon and I’m Y/N—wait.”
He freezes. The sentence hangs in the air between you, defying all logic, space, and time. Did I just steal her identity? The silence that follows is loud. Behind him, he hears Jungwon choke on a laugh, disguising it as a cough. Jake just sighs, a long, mournful sound of a man who has given up on his roommate entirely, and Heeseung doesn’t bother hiding his jolly laugh.
You blink at him. Then, slowly, that grin widens until it takes up your whole face.
“We’re swapping?” You ask, delighted, “okay—I’ve always wanted to be tall.”
Sunghoon feels his soul attempting to leave his body through his ears, he stands up, he stands up way too fast. His knees pop, adding a nice, crunchy soundtrack to his humiliation.
“I have to wash these,” he announces to the room at large, voice dangerously monotone.
“They were in a plastic sleeve,” Jake points out from the couch, finally turning around to witness the wreckage, “they’re clean bro.”
“Dust!” Sunghoon yells. He doesn’t look back, he can’t, “you can’t see it, but it’s there. It’s everywhere!”
He turns on his heel and flees. There is no other word for it, he practically speed-walks back into the safety of the kitchenette, shoulders hunched up to his ears, clutching the red cups to his chest, leaving the echo of his dignity—and his name—behind on the living room rug. He rounds the corner, out of sight, and immediately presses his forehead against the cool stainless steel of the fridge. He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon.
“He’s usually—uh—he’s usually not like this,” he hears Jake say in the other room, sounding apologetic.
“He’s funny,” you reply, and Sunghoon can hear the smile in your voice, “I like him.”
Sunghoon slides down the front of the fridge until he hits the floor, all while he buries his burning face in his hands. He is absolutely, irrevocably doomed.
“You good down there?”
Sunghoon peels one eye open, Jay is standing above him, holding a pair of tongs, staring at him with the blank, unimpressed expression of a man who has seen too much.
“I live here,” Sunghoon says to the ceiling, his voice hollow, “I pay rent, I have a 3.8 GPA. Why can’t I say my own name?”
“Nerves,” Jay says, flipping a piece of garlic bread, “also, you told her she was you. That was fucking insane.”
“Shut up, Jay.”
Sunghoon groans and scrambles up. He looks at the stack of cups in his hand, they are perfectly clean, but he washes them anyway. He turns on the tap and aggressively scrubs the brand-new plastic with the intensity of a surgeon scrubbing in for a heart transplant, just to buy himself thirty more seconds of isolation. Get it together, he coaches himself, staring at his reflection in the dark window above the sink.
You are Park Sunghoon, you have a twelve-step skincare routine, you know how to parallel park, you are a functional member of society who definitely knows who he is.
He dries his hands, he fixes his hair in the reflection of the microwave, he takes a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to lower his heart rate, and marches back out. The vibe in the living room has shifted. In the three minutes he was gone, you have seamlessly integrated into the environment of the dorm. You’re sitting cross-legged on the rug now, stealing garlic bread from Jake’s plate.
You look comfortable, annoyingly so, considering Sunghoon currently feels like his skin is made of itchy wool and his bones are made of glass. He walks over, moving stiffly, trying to be as aerodynamic as possible to avoid hitting any other stationary objects. He sets the slightly-damp cups down on the coffee table with a thud.
“All clean now,” he announces.
You look up, and you don’t laugh this time, but the corner of your mouth twitches, scooting over slightly on the rug, patting the empty space next to you, wondering what was going in the head of this pretty boy.
“Saved you a spot,” you say easily.
Sunghoon’s brain does that static thing again, he walks over stiffly, like a toy soldier, and lowers himself onto the rug. He sits carefully, hyper aware of everything, of you.
“Thanks,” he manages and it comes out deeper than he intended, almost gruff. Great. Now he sounds like a grumpy toddler.
You tear a piece off the garlic bread in your hand—the one you definitely stole, and offer it to him, “here, eat something, you’re practically vibrating.”
Sunghoon stares at the bread, then at you, “I’m not vibrating.”
“You are,” you insist, pressing the bread into his hand, “eat a lil’.”
Sunghoon takes it. He has to, really, because your fingers are brushing his palm and his brain has decided that obeying you is the only way to survive, and your fingers are soft, very soft.
“I’m calm,” he lies, taking a bite. It’s cold, but he chews it with interest.
“Uh-huh,” you grin, leaning back on your hands, your leather jacket creaking softly, “so, Park Sunghoon, besides forgetting your own identity, what do you do?”
Sunghoon swallows, he wipes a crumb from his lip, trying to regain some semblance of the mysterious aura he allegedly has, “I exist,” he says, trying for deadpan humor, “I listen to music. I tolerate Jake.”
“A noble calling,” you laugh, “I’ve only known him for a week and I’m already exhausted.”
“Jungwon, remove her from the group chat,” Jake deadpans, looking at him straight in the eye.
Jungwon looks his way, then your way before nodding, “let’s remove Jake.”
You both chuckled as Jake let out a gasp, launching a throw pillow that hits Jungwon square in the chest while Heeseung groans, “so no one added me to the chat, huh?”
Sunghoon doesn’t care, he’s zoned out as Jay joins the group with his freshly made mac and cheese truffle, and the room immediately devolves into a clamor of grabbing hands, Jungwon and Jake temporarily calling a truce to eat, and add a now very jolly Hee to the group chat. Sunghoon, however, has his undivided attention on you, he watches through his peripheral vision, as you lean forward to inspect the pot, the movement causes your leather jacket to slip further down your arm, he gulps at the sight.
A nudge almost sends him into orbit, head snapping at your face with mouth wide open, and you’re looking at him with your brow raised, a bowl in your hand, “you okay?” You asked, and he nodded mindlessly, and you were genuinely confused now.
You hand him the bowl, fingers brushing and he’s pretty sure his ears have turned red by now, but you’re not teasing him, and he likes how you simply just fit in here, “eat up, hm?”
“Thanks, yeah,” he mutters, looking down at the pasta, and it makes you smile at him fondly, before Jake’s groan interrupts you as he practically cries watching the cricket match on TV.
Jay sits behind you on the couch, starts talking about the history of this game—which only Jungwon pays attention to somehow, and then he stops to observe the room. His gaze drifts from the television screen to the floor, he watches you settle back against the couch cushions, then, his eyes slide to the person sitting next to you.
Sunghoon isn’t watching the match really. Jay watches as Sunghoon stares at the side of your profile for a beat too long. Then, Sunghoon looks down at the bowl in his lap. A small, shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, it’s something soft and entirely unguarded. And then, as if his brain has just caught up with what his face is doing, Sunghoon freezes. He just stops moving completely, his smile vanishing into a look of sheer, silent panic.
Jay pauses, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth. He looks at you, completely unbothered, he looks back at Sunghoon, who is currently staring at a piece of macaroni. Jay closes his eyes, he sighs, a long, heavy exhale.
“Oh no.”
STEP TWO: Prolonged realization
It had been four days since you had dinner at Jake’s place, four days since you met Sunghoon, four days since you took Jay’s tupperware as he packed some pasta for you, Jungwon, and your friend Karina.
To be honest, you hadn't expected to see Park Sunghoon again so soon, mostly because Jungwon had reported that he was currently in hibernation to recover from the sheer embarrassment of introducing himself as you. You’d caught glimpses of him on campus, but he was always in a rush somehow with his long strides.
“If you don’t return these,” Jungwon had told you ten minutes ago, dumping the heavy glass tower into your arms, “Jay is going to skin me, like—it’s just tupperware.”
So, here you were, standing in the hallway of the boys’ dorm, smelling faintly of rain and balancing a stack of glass containers, knocking on the door, expecting Jay to open the door, only to find a very cozy looking Sunghoon.
He looked completely different from the guy you’d seen walking around campus. He was wearing a massive gray hoodie and wire-rimmed glasses that were sliding down his nose, and he was holding a piece of peanut butter toast in one hand. He looked soft, sleepy, and very much at home. He blinked at you, clearly surprised, with his cheeks still puffed out from a bite of toast.
“Oh,” he mumbled, swallowing hard, “hi!”
“Hi,” you smiled, adjusting the heavy stack in your arms, “just here to return these, Jay was getting impatient you see. I also made cookies cause it’s not nice to give back empty containers,” you mumbled, eyes on Sunghoon’s moles—they looked pretty.
He stepped forward to help, reaching out with both hands, clearly forgetting the peanut butter toast in his right hand, which slipped and fell on the ground with a wet thwap. Sunghoon stared down at the rug, his shoulders slumping in instant, silent defeat.
“I literally just made that,” he whispered, looking genuinely pained.
“RIP,” you murmured, biting back a laugh at how tragic he looked over a slice of bread, “the five-second rule is a little risky with carpet, though.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, crouching down immediately to peel the sticky mess off the floor, “Jay just vacuumed, too. I’m dead.”
“Here.” You shifted the stack to one hip, crouching down to hand him a tissue from your pocket.
He took the tissue, “thanks,” he mumbled, ears turning red yet again. He stood up, tossing the ruined toast in the bin by the door, then finally turned back to take the heavy stack of containers from you properly. He carefully set the stack on the narrow entryway table. He stared at the top container for a second, seemingly processing the fact that there were actual baked goods inside.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Figured you’d like something other than pasta,” you smiled, cause apparently that’s all what they ate.
“I swear,” Hoon laughed, and it was cute, “it’s usually good but he uses so much basil, and it’s always penne.”
“What’s wrong with penne?”
“I just like fusilli better,” he mumbled, now aware of how he’s making you stand, “wait—do you wanna—like, come in?”
“I would love to, but I have a lecture in—” you checked your phone, “twenty one minutes.”
He frowned for a second before nodding in understanding, “oh yeah, sorry. You should go, we can hang out some other time.” He looked so crestfallen, standing there in his oversized hoodie with his hands tucked into the sleeves, that you couldn’t help yourself. You took a step closer instead of backing away.
“Hey, Sunghoon?”
“Yeah?” He blinked, straightening up, looking at you with those wide, attentive eyes.
“Hold still.”
Before he could ask why, you reached out. His hair was a mess—probably from the hoodie, or maybe he’d been napping before you knocked—and there was a piece sticking straight up in the back like an antenna. Sunghoon froze, he almost stopped breathing as your fingers brushed against his hair, smoothing down the lock. His hair was soft, softer than it looked. You let your hand linger for a split second longer than necessary, your knuckles grazing the shell of his ear.
“Bedhead,” you murmured, pulling your hand back, scrunching your nose with how adorable he looked. Sunghoon didn’t move, simply staring at you as he gulped, his ears turning red (again) that clashed horribly with his gray hoodie.
It was hard for him to keep his mind elsewhere even when you had taken your leave, especially when he tasted those double chocolate chip cookies—moaning with how perfect they were, crispy on the edges and softer in the middle. He was embarrassed, acting like a schoolboy with a crush, but he told himself it wasn’t that, he simply liked you as a person.
So, when he met you again when the group decided to go out for dinner near the campus, he swore he’d be normal around you, maintaining some distance to not embarrass himself any further.
When they arrived at the barbecue spot, the air thick with smoke and chatter, Sunghoon spotted you immediately. You were standing by the entrance with Jungwon and your other friend, laughing at something he said, wearing a simple dress that shouldn’t have looked nearly as good as it did. Don’t stare, he told himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Say hi. Be cool.
“Hey guys,” you beamed as they approached, your eyes landing on him.
“Hey,” Sunghoon managed, keeping his voice painfully neutral. He offered a stiff nod, barely making eye contact before pivoting toward the empty table.
He made a beeline for the corner seat, the one furthest from where he assumed you’d sit. He was halfway there when Jungwon threw his backpack down.
“I’m taking the wall!” Jungwon announced, diving into the booth and dragging Jake with him.
“I need the aisle to grill,” Jay declared, blocking the other side.
Sunghoon froze cause the geometry of the table was rapidly collapsing against him. Karina (your other friend slash roomie) slid in next to Jay. That left one spot—the middle, right next to the aisle. Right next to—
“Can I sit here?” You asked, appearing at his elbow with a grin.
He stiffened, his brain short-circuiting. He hurriedly shimmied into the booth, pressing his thigh against Jake’s so hard that Jake grunted, “dude, personal space.”
“Sorry,” Sunghoon muttered, staring straight ahead at the metal grill.
You slid in beside him, arm brushing against his, the friction sending a jolt straight up his spine. You smelled like vanilla and the rain from earlier, a scent that was quickly becoming his favorite thing to panic over.
“Did you like the cookies?” You asked, eyes shining in hope.
And gosh—he did. He almost forgot about the protein diet he was planning and ate four of your cookies in a go, saving some for later as well. Not to mention how he fought Jake for the last cookie—who was running away teasing Hoon about his newly developed crush, which resulted in Jake being in his chokehold.
“They were really good,” he managed to say sincerely.
“He snatched the cookies from me,” Jake added helpfully, which surprised you pleasantly, much to Hoon’s dismay who didn’t want Jake to open his damn mouth.
You liked it, liked seeing him panic, it made him look like a lost puppy. It was clear how he was trying to avoid more conversations about you, especially since he shoved a piece of meat in Jake’s mouth each time he tried to talk to you, so you focused back on Heeseung and Karina, who were debating about the new albums and rating them.
Even while doing so, your attention kept diverting to Sunghoon and Jay discussing Maillard’s reaction for the perfect cooking of meat. He was so comfortable talking to others, not stuttering once, and he had nice hands, such nice and big and veiny hands—a kick from under the table made you wince, and you looked up to see Karina winking at you, eyes drifting to Sunghoon, which made you roll your eyes, cause sure—he was cute, but he didn’t even wish to talk to you (he just wanted to survive dinner). And somehow, that distracted you more than you’d like to admit. By the time the bill was paid, the night air had cooled down, and Jay insisted on driving you back home, granted you all lived in the dorms.
Sunghoon could see where this was going, especially the way Karina and Jungwon headed to the backseat, Jay took the driver’s seat, Jake naturally opting for the shotgun, which left you, Heeseung, and Sughoon in the middle seating area. Heeseung didn’t bother waiting, sliding in and putting his headphones on. That left the middle seat and the seat closest to the door.
“After you,” Sunghoon said, his voice a little tight. He held the door open, gesturing for you to climb in.
You slid into the middle seat, settling against the upholstery. Sunghoon hesitated for a fraction of a second, staring at the empty space beside you before he finally climbed in and pulled the door shut. With Heeseung passed out against the far window and Jake shouting at the radio in the front, the back seat felt like a private, terrifyingly intimate bubble, more so when Jake decided they should take a detour and take a longer ride.
Jay pulled out of the parking lot, and the car merged into the evening traffic, and by traffic, it was practically a congestion, which made you groan considering how sleepy you felt, “I hate this intersection, it’s always a mess I swear.”
Sunghoon cleared his throat, “the civil engineers set the green light duration for the turn lane too short relative to the main avenue’s volume honestly. It creates a bottleneck every time the cycle resets. If they just added four seconds to the north-bound signal, this entire congestion would clear in no time.”
You looked at him, his skin shining under the dim lights, “you figured that out by just looking at it?”
He just shrugged, wondering if he should have let his mouth shut, cause you probably think he’s even more of a nerd now.
“You know,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “you’re actually really smart, Sunghoon.”
That actually hit him hard, he expected you to call him a nerd, instead, you were looking at him with genuine admiration, your eyes reflecting the passing city lights. He opened his mouth to respond, but his brain stalled. He settled for a strangled nod, quickly turning his face toward the window to hide the fact that his neck was rapidly heating up. The rest of the ride was a blur of brake lights and the rhythmic thump-thump of the windshield wipers. The warmth of the car, combined with the heavy meal, eventually pulled you under. As Jay navigated the final turn toward the dorms, your head lulled to the side, landing softly on Sunghoon’s shoulder.
He went rigid instantly, he stopped breathing actually. He didn’t move a single muscle, not even to adjust his arm which was starting to go numb from the angle. If he didn't like you, he would have politely nudged you awake or shifted away. Instead, he sat there, a statue in a damp hoodie, terrified that even a single exhale would disturb you, staring at how pretty you looked even as you slept, so comfortable around him.
He wanted to kiss you, he wished to kiss your forehead, and that should have been the sign, but he didn’t, opting to stare like a lovesick puppy who couldn’t admit he was catching feelings. It wasn’t really convenient how he wondered if you’d be just as perfect under him, would you curl up? Pull him closer? Would you want him to touch you?
And he kept on acting like an invisible man after, simply because you woke up and thanked him with that pretty smile of yours, and if it were to get any further Sunghoon swore he would not be able to survive it, not when all his friends were whistling at the fact that Sunghoon could pull someone even with his endearing loser ways.
The invisible act stayed for long, leading to the mid semester exams, which meant that Sunghoon had successfully managed to keep it together for nearly two months since that night, which made him feel proud for handling it so well, or so he thought, until the night before the final major midterm.
The library doors swung open, revealing a torrential downpour, making the group groan in unison—except for Sunghoon, who had checked three different weather apps and was clutching a sturdy black umbrella.
Logic dictated he open it. Logic dictated he offer to walk you to your dorm, sharing the small space under the canopy. But Sunghoon looked at you, shivering in your oversized sweater, and his brain supplied a vivid image of your shoulders brushing for ten whole minutes, so well, panic overrode survival instincts.
“Here,” he blurted out, shoving the umbrella handle into your chest, “cover Jungwon and Karina, It’s big enough for the group.”
“What? Sunghoon, wait—”
“I have to run!” He announced, his voice cracking.
Before you could argue, he turned and sprinted into the deluge, instantly soaking his hoodie as he splashed through the puddles while Jay and Jake watched with absolute disbelief on their faces, staring at each other and sighing, agreeing that Hoon was indeed down bad, and even worse at pretending to be normal about it.
Behind you, Jungwon watched Sunghoon’s retreating figure, then looked at you as you immediately popped the umbrella open and bolted after him, leaving the rest of the group dry but abandoned.
“Idiots in denial,” Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he pulled his jacket over his head, “I hate it here.”
Sunghoon made it halfway across the quad before the rain stopped hitting him. He skid to a halt, chest heaving, and looked up to see the black umbrella hovering over his head. He turned slowly to find you standing there, slightly out of breath and holding the umbrella over him, your own shoulder getting wet in the process.
“You are ridiculous, Park Sunghoon,” you laughed, though your eyes were soft, “who runs in the rain to avoid sharing an umbrella?”
Sunghoon stared at you, and god you were close, you were wet. You were smiling at him like he was the only person in the world. He was absolutely, irrevocably doomed as you walked him to the dorms, when he insisted on dropping you first, which he did.
What he didn’t expect was the hug you gave him, “thanks Hoon,” you’d mumbled into his ear, god you smelled so good, you were so warm, and fit perfectly into his hug, smiling brightly before heading inside without any care of Jungwon and Karina.
The hug, the smile, the way you used his nickname—yeah, Sunghoon wasn’t sure how he was still breathing, and it was comical how he stood there for five minutes even after you’d gone inside, poor man was broken, and now there wasn’t any room for denial.
Later that night, shivering in his dorm room and wrapped in three blankets, Sunghoon stared at his ceiling with wide, terrified eyes. He fished his laptop out of his bag and typed with trembling fingers:
WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures).
STEP THREE: Establish eye contact (like a normal person)
Sunghoon thought he was safe, that closing his laptop’s lid was enough when he went out to get some water before taking a shower, but boy he couldn’t have been more wrong. He walked into the living room with a towel still around his waist after the shower, only to find Heeseung staring at a MacBook with intense focus, but wait—was that his MacBook? Of fucking course, Jay and Jake were there as well, shoulders shaking with silent, violent laughter. Sunghoon froze in the doorway, water dripping from his hair onto the carpet, witnessing the exact moment his social life turned into a tragedy.
“Is that—is that a step-by-step guide?” Jake wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he pointed a trembling finger at the screen.
Heeseung cleared his throat, reading from the screen like a news anchor, “WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl. With pictures. It says here: Smile to show you are approachable.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Sunghoon yelled, his voice cracking two octaves. He lunged across the room, nearly losing his towel, but Jay blocked his path with a shit-eating grin.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Jay sighed, shaking his head with mock sympathy, “Jungwon will kill you.”
Sunghoon froze, the color draining from his face, “wait, why?”
“Cause he likes Y/N,” Heeseung said, keeping his face perfectly straight.
“He what now?” Sunghoon whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Yeah,” Jake added, nodding solemnly, “they’re in love. Haven’t you noticed? The bickering? It’s their thing.”
Sunghoon looked like he had just been shot in the chest. His shoulders slumped, his lips parted in shock, and he stared at the floor with such profound, soul-shattering devastation that the room went silent for a full second. He looked small, wet, and utterly defeated, all while being in his towel, abs out and everything.
“Oh my god,” Jay burst out laughing, hitting Heeseung’s arm, “we’re kidding! You can’t even be jealous without looking like a kicked puppy.”
Sunghoon scoffed, eyes teary, his soul slowly returning to his body as the realization hit, “I hate you, all of you,” he hissed, snatching his laptop and fleeing to the safety of his locked room.
He didn’t know if it would work, but he wished to try anyway, no more running away, which is why he opened the MacBook yet again to go over the steps, preparing himself for the first one, sighing and smiling over the fact that you and Jungwon weren’t actually dating, but that didn’t mean you’d be single for too long, hence, he needs to start step one right after the exams are done. Just like that, Hoon was more focused on the plan rather than the exam, but he was pretty sure he aced it anyway, what he lacked was practical skills, not theory.
The exams came and went, leaving everyone with varying degrees of sleep deprivation, and a desperate need for greasy food. Which is how, mere hours after the final paper was submitted, you all found yourselves crammed into a sticky booth at the campus pub for the weekly Tuesday Trivia Night. You were sitting directly across from Sunghoon, stealing fries from Jungwon’s plate while arguing about the best Mario Kart track (toad harbour). Sunghoon, however, wasn’t listening. He was mentally rehearsing. He had spent the last three days memorizing Step 1: Make Eye Contact.
The article said: Lock eyes with her for a few seconds to show you’re interested. Don’t look away first. Be bold.
He took a deep breath, gripped his pint glass until his knuckles turned white, and initiated the sequence. He looked at you while you were laughing at something Jake said, your head thrown back, looking effortless and bright against the dim pub lighting. Sunghoon locked on, staring with intense focus. You paused, a fry hovering halfway to your mouth, sensing the weight of his gaze. You blinked, confused, but Sunghoon didn’t look away. Hold the gaze, his brain screamed, assert dominance.
“Hoon?” You asked, using the nickname again.
Sunghoon didn’t answer, he couldn’t, he was too busy counting the seconds. Then, you did the one thing WikiHow hadn’t really prepared him for, you didn’t look away shyly, rather, you leaned in.
You placed your elbows on the sticky table and leaned forward, bringing your face alarmingly close to his, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.
“You’re staring, Park,” you lowered your voice, teasing him, “and here I thought you were ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he blurted, maintaining that eye contact, “it’s kind of hard—to ignore you.”
The playful smirk dropped from your face as you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty in his tone, which was needed especially when you did spend a gracious amount of time complaining to Karina about how you shouldn’t have hugged Sunghoon cause he had started ignoring you. He wasn’t stuttering now, wasn’t looking elsewhere, just into your eyes—which he finds really pretty.
“Oh,” you breathed, the teasing edge now vanished, leaning back as you felt the faint heat creeping up your neck, matching his own.
“Okay, question one!” The host bellowed, successfully helping Sunghoon escape the situation.
Sunghoon exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He had survived Step 1, but he was pretty sure he’d lost a few years of his life in the process. Then the game started, and Sunghoon forgot about the steps entirely, he just watched you. You were a force of nature, especially when the category switched to 2000s Pop Culture, you were unstoppable.
“Shrek 2!” You yelled before the host finished the quote.
“Correct!”
You high-fived Jake so hard the table shook, and Sunghoon wished he was there instead of Jake. You were competitive, loud, and brilliant. Sunghoon didn’t answer a single question, he just sat there, nursing his drink, tracking your every movement. He watched the way you bit your lip when you were thinking, and the way your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed at Jake’s wrong answers, who was way too competitive for his own good.
“Ouagadougou!” You shouted for the geography round, slamming your hand on the table.
“How do you know everything?” Jungwon asked, looking at you with mild horror.
“I have a brain, Won,” you winked, shooting a glance across the table at Sunghoon, “see? We won.”
Sunghoon felt his heart do a traitorous little flip. He didn’t look away this time. He just smiled, a small, unguarded thing.
Sunghoon processed this as you all started hugging each other, victory being too sweet not to, and he waited patiently, not sure if you would even hug him, but he did stand up with flushed cheeks when you appeared in front of him, the height difference painfully apparent now, he had to look down, his dark hair falling over his eyes, while you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. Without overthinking it, you reached out and pulled him into a hug.
He turned into a literal pillar for a microsecond before the realization hit. Then, slowly, his arms wound around you, hesitant at first, then firm, pulling you into the warmth of his chest, and you could hear how fast his heart was beating as you leaned in, your chin resting on his shoulder. The noise of the pub—the clinking glasses, Jake’s loud laughter, the trivia host’s drone—all felt miles away.
You let your hand slide up from his shoulder, your fingers grazing the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound that told you exactly how much effect you were having, and you didn’t mind, simply saying, “don’t be a stranger anymore, Hoonie.”
The nickname did it for him, and he practically shuddered under your touch, his knees actually buckling for a split second. He buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the fact that his entire face was burning, inhaling sharply. He smelled like mango for some reason, and expensive cologne, but he was more focused on your scent.
“I won’t,” he rasped against your skin, “I promise.”
He held on for a second longer than intended, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. When you finally pulled back, stepping out of his personal space with a lingering smile, the loss of warmth hit him as he frowned. You waved at the group and walked out the door with Karina, who was more than ready to gossip about what had just happened, leaving the bell chiming in your wake.
Sunghoon stood frozen in the middle of the pub, his hand instinctively coming up to touch the back of his neck exactly where your fingers had been. He stared at the closed door for a full minute, unable to move, unable to think, his brain reduced to white noise and the echo of Hoonie.
“He’s broken,” Jake announced, waving a hand in front of Sunghoon’s unblinking eyes, “which is fair though, he got called Hoonie.”
“Did you hear that voice crack?” Jay snickered.
Sunghoon didn’t even hear them, just letting out a long, shaky exhale, his legs finally giving out as he collapsed back into the booth, burying his face in his hands.
“You really are like Nobita, just smarter when it comes to studies,” Jake let out as Sunghoon glared at him.
“And Jungwon can be Doremon,” Heeseung laughed, “round head and all, y’know?”
“Shouldn’t WikiHow be his Doremon though?” Jay asked looking at Jungwon who found the comment highly offensive.
“WikiHow?” He asked, and Jay told him the backstory, which had this man laughing like crazy, “Oh, I’m so telling this to Y/N.”
Now, that grabbed Hoon’s attention, who simply grabbed Jungwon and picked him up effortlessly despite him thrashing around—it was a funny sight, Hoon holding him up like a cat, “you wont tell her anything,” he warned, and for the first time he realised the strength of this man.
“Yeah, forgot to tell you he’s strong behind his loser persona,” Heeseung added.
Either way, Sunghoon was in trouble, because he couldn’t sleep that night, and neither could Jungwon, who was contemplating joining gym now.
Hoon spent all night trying to plan his next step, and now he was prepared, he just had to find you.
STEP FOUR: Love is an open door—open it wider.
You were sitting with Karina at the campus coffee shop, finally resting after the exams were over, and right then your brows furrowed as you overheard two girls talking. Now, you weren’t one to eavesdrop, however, they were talking about Sunghoon—granting someone the best pleasure of their life? But he was with the whole group last night, so what’s that even about? Karina was listening as well, genuinely concerned at the very obvious made up story.
“What is going on?” You asked Karina, and she shrugged.
“He has this reputation of being this mysterious fuckboy, and people believe it cause no one really is close to him, she’s faking it all,” she replied, sipping her iced coffee.
“Woah, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “have they even seen how he looks like a puppy who’s always confused?”
“Yeah, they obviously don’t know that—but hey, he could be wild in the sheets, we don’t know that.”
You thought for a second, wondering if it could be true, because to you, Sunghoon seemed so sweet, almost like he’d be the softest, most loving man ever. But—you do wish to know what he was behind those oversized hoodies and shy smiles.
One of the girls smirked, going on about it, “no literally, he was wild last night, he’s got a big cock, and boy he knows exactly how to use it.”
You choked on your doughnut, Karina was amused seeing you like this, even more when the shop bell chimed, “damn, speak of the devil—and is he wearing Prada?”
You turned around, wiping sugar off your lip, and sure enough, there he was. Sunghoon stood in the doorway, clad in a long, structured trench coat over a sleek turtleneck, looking like he’d stepped straight off a runway (yeah, you wanted him in your bed now). The entire coffee shop seemed to dim in his presence. The two girls behind you gasped, clutching each other’s arms.
“He’s looking,” one whispered frantically, “act natural.”
Sunghoon, however, wasn’t looking at them, scanning the room to find you, and he paused when he did. If Jake was there, he would practically see the WikiHow page loading in his brain—Step 2: Smile and be approachable. He tried to soften his face, but the nerves got the better of him. Instead of a gentle, welcoming smile, he pulled his lips back in a stiff, terrifyingly symmetrical grimace that made him look like he was bracing for an impact. He held the expression as he walked toward the counter to order his coffee as you sat there, confused.
“Is he okay?” You asked.
“Don’t know, he’s always like that around you,” she said, and that made you smile—getting a weird glance from Karina.
Sunghoon grabbed his iced Americano, took a deep breath to reset his expression, and walked over. He stopped in front of you, looking slightly thrown off by Karina’s presence, but he played it cool.
“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping to a smooth, feigned nonchalance, “fancy seeing you here.”
He absolutely did not mention that he had asked Jungwon for your location, and Jungwon absolutely didn’t mention that you weren’t alone.
He looked like he was about to retreat to a corner to brood over his failed smile, but you weren’t about to let that happen. Not with the rumor mill churning behind you.
“Hoon, wait,” you said, reaching out to snag the belt of his coat, tugging him closer.
Sunghoon froze, stumbling a step forward, looking down at you with wide, confused eyes, “y—yeah?”
“You look absolutely exhausted,” you said, pitching your voice just loud enough for the table behind you to hear. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his skin, and he wasn’t functioning anymore, that touch sending a shiver down his body and stopping right on his cock.
He fucking loved it when you touched him, your fingers were so gentle, so soft on his skin, and maybe you did like him—that’s why you pulled him closer, right? He looked at you with wide eyes, dropping down to your lipgloss painted lips, which looked too inviting.
“Tired from last night?” You asked, granting him a smile.
He almost fainted, cause it sounded as if you knew he was up all night staring at your photos from instagram, rolling around on his bed with a genuine smile. But how could you know that? So he simply nodded, thinking (hoping) you were referring to Trivia night.
“Yeah, I mean—it did go on for a while, and you were amazing,” he nodded, leaning into your touch instinctively, praying his best to sound normal.
Behind him, the girls inhaled sharply, their imaginations clearly running wild. You smirked, knowing they were picturing a scandalous night while you were actually thinking about him being zoned out for most of the night, paying attention to the winning part only.
“You kept up yknow? That’s impressive too,” you added helpfully even though he had not said a word during the trivia, patting his chest, not knowing how the poor man was suffering—in a good way, “you should rest, we were up really late.”
“I—yeah, it was worth it,” he said, looking down on the floor.
Karina was shaking her head with the biggest smile on her face, turning back to see the girls talking in hushed voices.
You chuckled, “okay, you should go rest now, bye Hoonie!”
He nodded, trying to give you another smile that looked very—uh, scary? But he left, not having it in him to actually stay and talk when there was an audience (Karina), he kicked the random stones on the path as he walked and sat in the Uni park, unsure what had even happened.
“You are a menace,” Karina whispered when he was gone.
“I’m just clarifying things,” you winked, taking a bite of your doughnut as the girls behind you sat in stunned, jealous silence as you both gathered your things and started walking towards the dorms.
It was then when you spotted Sunghoon sitting alone, and you stopped, “I’ll catch you later,” you told her, and she followed your gaze, smirking at how obviously dumb the both of you were.
“Try not to break him this time, hm? Go get him, tiger,” she patted your back and you rolled your eyes, heading towards him, watching him tap his foot to some rhythm, staring ahead blankly.
You slid onto the bench next to him, nudging his knee with yours. Sunghoon jumped, his head snapping toward you. When he registered it was you, he immediately smiled, he had dressed up as well, granted WikiHow did say to dress up nicely and smell good, for which he ended up going to Jay for his perfume collection. He tried to smile, he really did, but he looked so endearingly awkward, you couldn’t help but laugh at him.
“Hoon, please,” you wheezed, reaching up to pull one side of his earpods away from his ear, “what are you doing?”
Sunghoon’s face crumbled instantly, the smile dropping into a pout of genuine despair. He slumped back against the bench, looking miserable.
“I’m trying to be approachable,” he groaned, his voice low and defeated. “I heard that I look mean when I’m thinking. I didn’t want you to think I was—I don’t know, unapproachable.”
“You are unapproachable,” you pointed out, stealing the headphone cup you’d pulled off his ear and holding it to your own, “but that’s because you are handsome.”
“Huh—what—”
You didn’t let him think much as you paused, grinning slightly, “wait. Are you listening to—is this Disney?"
Sunghoon froze. He snatched the EarPod back, his cheeks flushing, “no,” he lied immediately, “It’s—hard rock. Heavy metal, yeah.”
“Sunghoon,” you grinned, leaning into his space, “that was definitely love is an open door from Frozen.”
You didn’t give him a chance to come up with another lie. You just smiled, leaned back against the bench as you grabbed the airpod yet again, wearing it, and you started singing early knowing he’d malfunction.
“I mean it’s crazy—”
Sunghoon froze, he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. He looked around the park to see if anyone was watching, then looked back at you. You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. You knew he couldn’t leave a verse unfinished. It was against his nature, even if he had to sing the female verse of it.
“What?” he whispered, the word slipping out involuntarily.
You grinned, leaning closer, your shoulder pressing against his, “we finish each other’s—”
Sunghoon’s eyes darted between your lips and your eyes, he fought it. You could see the physical struggle on his face as he tried to maintain his cool, but the music was swelling, and you were looking at him with that expectant, teasing light in your eyes.
“Sandwiches!” He blurted out, perfectly on beat.
You gasped, delighted, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s what I was gonna say!”
Sunghoon let out a defeated, incredulous laugh, but he didn’t stop—he couldn’t. The two of you sat on the park bench, huddled together over a pair of earpods, quietly harmonizing the chorus while a squirrel watched judgmentally from a nearby tree.
“Our mental synchronization,” he sang, looking at you with a gaze that was too obvious, but you didn’t catch it, “can have but one explanation.”
“You,” you sang, pointing a finger at him.
“And I,” he sang, pointing back, a small, genuine smile breaking through his embarrassment.
“Were just meant to be,” you both finished in unison.
Sunghoon let the final note hang in the air before he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands again. His ears were burning a bright crimson, “I can’t believe I just did that,” he groaned into his palms, “I’m wearing a trench coat. I’m supposed to be cool.”
“You’re cool,” you said as he smiled, which made you stop, “hey, you have fangs,” you pointed it out and he got conscious, “don’t hide, your smile is pretty,” you mumbled, and he breathed out, smiling just for you, not thinking this time, as you leaned against his arm.
If Hoon thought yesterday was the best day of his life, he was wrong, cause with how carefree he felt with you in the moment, he swears this is the best day of his life.
Step: Smile at her—successful.
STEP FIVE: Be a hero (by using your crush as a human shield).
You had been smiling way too much lately, and it irritated Jungwon, who was having a shitty day with how his favourite hoodie went missing, how his headphones stopped working, and how he dropped his cupcake on the floor. He glared at you through it all, “stop smiling for fucks sake,” he mumbled.
“Oh shut up, Doremon,” you teased, as Jake had told you about the whole Nobita-Doremon conversation, minus the WikiHow part, while gaming with you. You were disappointed to see the absence of Hoon that day as he had lectures, but that didn’t compare to his disappointment.
He fell down on the floor (it really happened, no exaggeration) when he learned that you had left just ten minutes before he arrived back at the dorm, it was as if he was facing withdrawals of your absence, not having seen you since that day in the park. And of course, he was not confident enough to actually text you. Yes, he had your number from the groupchat, but that was about it. Now, he couldn’t wait much longer as he sat down to actually plan the next step, which was breaking the touch barrier. He actively ignored Jake teasing him about how you were wearing a skirt (which you definitely wore in hopes of seeing him, but oh well), and how you looked so pretty.
Sunghoon rolled into his stomach, pulling his phone out to garner more ideas, and he settled on one which seemed to be the most natural—use a scary movie night as an excuse, hold her when she gets scared, be her protector. He wasn’t fond of it (horror movies), but he believed it was the only way to go on about it, which is why he opened the group chat and started typing, swallowing hard.
He hated horror movies, the last time he watched The Conjuring, he slept with Jay and Jake, who couldn’t really complain, being equally scared, but then, he imagined you—scared and pretty, leaning into him for protection, and he was sold.
Sunghoon: movie night, ill buy pizzas
Jay: ?
Jake: you hate paying bro??
Hee: free pizza i’m in
Jungwon: oh you’re down to this now
Karina: dw ill bring Y/N along
You: sounds like fun, can’t wait :3
Sunghoon threw his phone across the bed, giggling into the pillow, and Jay stared at him from the half opened door, unimpressed at the view of his friend giggling like a schoolgirl, “please control yourself,” he mumbled.
Sunghoon screamed, throwing the pillow his way, “personal space i swear, knock before you come in!”
“You’re cleaning that up,” Jay deadpanned, watching the pillow slide sadly down the wall, “and fix your face. You look insane.”
Three hours later, the dorm living room had been curated better as Sunghoon had dimmed the lights and gathered the pizza boxes.
He was wearing a grey fitted tshirt because WikiHow said grey was a soft, inviting color. He was ready. When the door opened, it was chaos. Jake and Heeseung were already on the sofa, arguing about pineapple on pizza, Jungwon was complaining about the stairs, and Karina was dragging you inside.
“Hi, Hoon!” You beamed, spotting him instantly, you were wearing an oversized graphic tee and the skirt, oh that skirt, looking comfortable and devastatingly pretty.
Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited, “pizza,” he blurted out, pointing at the table, “I mean, hi. There’s pizza.”
“Smooth,” Heeseung whispered as he walked past, patting Sunghoon’s shoulder.
The seating arrangement was a battlefield, but Sunghoon had strategized. He maneuvered Heeseung to the armchair, shoved Jungwon and Karina to the beanbags, and left the sofa for the core trio: Jake on the far end, you in the middle, and himself rightfully claiming the spot on your right.
“So,” Jake asked, grabbing a slice of pepperoni. unimpressed at how Hoon was behaving, “what are we watching?”
Sunghoon took a deep breath. This was it—the ultimate sacrifice.
“The Grudge,” he announced, trying to keep his voice an octave lower than usual.
Jake froze mid-chew, looking at Sunghoon, then at the TV, then back at Sunghoon with wide, betrayed eyes, “bro, are you serious? You slept with the hallway light on for a week after we watched the trailer.”
“I did not! That was you,” Sunghoon lied through his teeth, grabbing the remote to stop Jake from exposing him further, “I crave the thrill now.”
You looked at him, impressed, leaning back into the cushions so your shoulder brushed against his, “woah, really? I love horror movies. I didn’t know you were brave like that, Hoon.”
Sunghoon preened under your praise, ignoring the way his heart was doing gymnastics, “I’m full of surprises.”
He pressed play, and the room plunged into heavy silence that only horror movies can manufacture, Sunghoon sat rigid, his spine glued to the cushions, his eyes locked on the screen, but his entire awareness was tunneled on you—tracking the way you absentmindedly chewed on the crust of your pizza, the way you leaned back, looking frustratingly calm, while his own heart was doing gymnastics against his ribs. Ten minutes in, the tension was unbearable, the protagonist walking down a dark, rotting hallway while the violins shrieked in that nausea-inducing crescendo, and Sunghoon’s palms were slick with sweat, his brain screaming at him to look away, but he couldn't, not when he had a mission.
Wait for the scare, wait for the flinch, be the fucking rock. Suddenly, the ghost appeared, a pale, contorted face filling the screen with a deafening, wet shriek.
“Ahhhhhh!”
A scream tore through the room, high and terrified—but it wasn’t you? It was Jake, who launched himself sideways, burying his face directly into your shoulder and clutching your arm like it was the last life raft on the Titanic.
“Turn it off! Turn it the fuck off! She’s gonna get me!” Jake wailed, vibrating with fear, effectively using you as a human shield against the fictional spirit.
You laughed, startled but amused, patting Jake’s head with fondness, “It’s just a jump scare, Jakey, breathe.”
Sunghoon sat frozen, his arm halfway raised in a pathetic imitation of a yawn, staring at the scene in absolute horror, because that was his shoulder, that was his moment, that was his Step 3 crumbling to dust before his eyes because his best friend had zero dignity. He glared at the top of Jake’s head, jealousy flaring hot and bright in his chest, a burning indignation that momentarily eclipsed his fear of the vengeful ghost.
“Get off her,” Sunghoon gritted out, voice laced with venom.
Jake lifted his head, eyes wide and teary, looking like a puppy, “shut up.”
“You’re crushing her,” Sunghoon lied through his teeth, reaching over to peel Jake’s fingers off your arm with surprising strength, his jaw tight, “sit up, Jake, have some self-respect, be a man.”
“You’re just jealous I got the safe spot,” Jake sniffled, retreating to the corner of the couch but keeping a hand on your sleeve just in case, pouting, and you chuckled, hiding your smile from Sunghoon.
Sunghoon bristled, turning back to the screen, determined to reclaim the moment, because the movie was building up to the next scare, the ghost crawling down the stairs with wet, cracking sounds that made his skin crawl. He lifted his arm yet again, fingers trembling slightly because he needed to be smooth, but he was scared.
And on the screen, the ghost lunched right at the camera, and well, Sunghoon didn’t just scream, he fucking broke. Instead of casually putting an arm around you, he let out a strangled yelp and instinctively yanked you toward him, burying his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping both arms around you in a crushing embrace.
Silence filled the room, heavy and awkward, broken only by the screaming on the TV and Sunghoon’s heavy, erratic breathing against your collarbone.
You sat there, stunned, your face pressed against the soft cotton of Sunghoon’s t-shirt. You could smell his detergent—clean linen and something distinctly him—and feel the way his heart was hammering against your chest, the rhythm so fast it made your own pulse skip a beat. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, not from the fear of the movie, but from the sudden, overwhelming warmth of him surrounding you, his arms holding you like he never planned to let go—and of course, he had well defined muscles, you could feel it.
Jake paused his panic to look at Sunghoon, Jungwon stopped eating mid-chew, and Karina raised a judgmental eyebrow from the beanbag.
“Hoonie?” You whispered, your voice muffled against his chest, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.
Sunghoon froze as the realization crashed down on him—he was hugging you. He was practically hiding in your neck and everyone was watching. He had failed Step 3 in the most spectacular way possible, yet—you felt so warm. You fit so perfectly against him—and it made him want to bite you? Abort, abort, abort. He slowly pulled his face away from your neck, but he didn’t let go of the hug, he looked down at you with wide, panicked eyes, his ears burning (again), searching your face for rejection.
“I—I got you,” he stammered, his voice cracking, trying to look heroic while his hands still trembled on your back, “I thought—I thought you were going to jump, so I—uh held you.”
Everyone was baffled, and wondering how you even entertained Sunghoon through his outbursts, but they found fun in it, watching it unfold like some sitcom.
“Held me?” You repeated, eyebrows shooting up, though the amusement dancing in your eyes was soft, not mocking, “by trying to merge our ribcages?”
“It was a reflex,” he insisted, though the thought seemed wildly nice, before looking around the room, refusing to make eye contact with Jake, who was now grinning wickedly, “don’t overthink it.”
“I think he’s using you as a teddy bear,” Jungwon deadpanned from the floor, throwing a piece of popcorn at Sunghoon’s leg.
“Shut up,” Sunghoon hissed, but he tightened his arms around you just a fraction, pulling you back down so your head rested on his chest, “i’m protecting her. Look away.”
You didn’t pull away. Instead, you shifted closer until you were comfortably tucked against his side, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart slowing down to a steady, comforting rhythm. You wrapped an arm around his waist, grounding him, feeling the tension slowly leave his frame.
“It’s okay, my brave protector,” you whispered, looking up so your breath tickled his chin, “keep me safe.”
Sunghoon swallowed hard, resting his chin on top of your head, his face still burning. He stared straight ahead at the terrifying screen, absolutely petrified of the ghost, but thinking that maybe, just maybe, failing step 3 was better than succeeding.
Because for the rest of the movie, he didn’t let go of you once, and every time you shifted, his hold only grew gentler, more possessive, and infinitely more real.
STEP SIX: Texting builds character
“You know—I don’t get it, it feels like mixed signals,” you sighed and Karina was baffled.
“What mixed signals? You’re as blind as him I swear,” she mumbles, shaking her head, “you both get such good grades but can’t navigate life, even if you’re a bit better at hiding your dumbass thoughts.”
“Aw thanks for the support,” you gasped in fake sweetness before sitting down next to her and sighing, “one second we are hugging and the other—radio silence, what even is going on?”
Karina sighed, finally glancing at you with a pitying look, “he’s just a guy. And guys are stupid. You look like a sad Victorian woman waiting for her husband to return from war.”
“Shut up,” you groaned.
“Make him jealous, maybe he’ll act up again and confess for real,” she shrugged.
“Confess? Girl I don’t think he sees me that way, definitely just a friend.”
Karina couldn’t believe her ears, but she couldn’t be mean when you looked like a puppy now, just like Sunghoon. It was crazy how similar you both were, yet so different, but yes, you shared that same dumbness of not acknowledging the basic emotions you harboured.
So when you got a text from Sunghoon, you were surprised, rushing into your room before Jungwon could comment on the odd look on your face.
Meanwhile, Sunghoon sat in the library with his textbooks wide open, but he hadn’t read a word in twenty minutes. Instead, he was staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the delete text button. On his laptop, hidden behind a PDF of organic chemistry notes (his elective), was the tab:
WikiHow: How to Flirt Over Text
Step 1: Be playful. Send a meme that relates to a shared interest or a current mood. Humor lowers defenses.
He had agonized over the image for ten minutes. Was it too weird? Too try-hard? He needed something that said I’m thinking about you without actually admitting that he was, indeed, obsessively thinking about you. He swallowed hard, his heart doing a nervous rhythm against his ribs. Just calm down, Park. It’s a meme, not a marriage proposal (might as well have been a marriage proposal for him).
On the other hand, you had thrown yourself onto your bed, buried yourself under the duvet to block out the world (and Jungwon, who was loudly gaming in the next room), and opened the chat to find a blurry, low-res picture of Psyduck clutching its head, eyes wide in some sort of existential horror.
Hoonie: me looking at this chem assignment rn
A laugh bubbled up in your chest. It was so stupid, so random, and so him.
You: pleaseee
You: that is literally you
You: drama queen
Hoonie: wow
Hoonie: im suffering and this is the support i get?
Hoonie: fake friend
It physically pained him to even type the word, however, the guide did say to start off slow, so here he was, biting his lip as he saw you typing, wondering if you’ll play along or be offended.
You: i’m a great friend btw
You: i’m manifesting good grades for u from my bed
Three dots appeared for you, bubbling, then stopping, then bubbling again.
Hoonie: must be nice to be resting
Hoonie: im starving actually
You stared at the screen, wondering if this conversation was going where you thought it was going cause he was starving, and well, you were starving (always).
You: same tbh
You: i would kill for boba rn
The typing bubble appeared for a long time, then it disappeared. A moment later, an audio file appeared.
Hoonie: [Voice Message 0:08]
You fumbled to hit play, holding the phone pressed tight against your ear.
The background noise of the library was faint—the rustle of pages, a distant cough—but his voice was right there, as if he was whispering directly into the mic so the others wouldn’t hear. The intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine.
“I’m practically dead here. I was gonna sneak out to that boba place near the campus—the one that’s still open? You should come. Save me from this chemistry nightmare.”
There was a pause, a small intake of breath, and then a softer, rather shy admission, “I’ll pay.”
Your heart slammed against your ribcage, because he wasn’t just texting, he was asking you out, at 11 PM, to get bubble tea. This was it, maybe he was trying to signal directly for the first time. You bit your lip to stop the grin spreading across your face and started typing furiously.
You: deal. give me 10 mins i’m com—
Ping.
Another text popped up before you could hit send.
Hoonie: jake and jay are coming too
Hoonie: so yeah group thing, you can invite won and rina
Hoonie: ill be waiting
Your thumbs froze over the keyboard. The cursor blinked at the end of your unfinished sentence, of fucking course, it was a group thing. The excitement drained out of you like water from a cracked cup. It went from a date to a hangout in the span of three seconds.
Sunghoon stared at his phone, horror dawning on his face. He dropped his forehead onto the library table with a dull thud.
“You idiot,” he whispered to the wood grain, talking to himself, “why did you invite Jake? Jake hates tapioca pearls.”
He had panicked. The voice note had felt too intimate, way too real. The WikiHow guide had a warning in bold red text—don’t come on too strong or you’ll scare her off. In a split second of terror that you might say no, he had used Jake and Jay as some human shields. Now, staring at the chat, he realized he had ruined it.
Beside him, Jake looked up from his laptop, looking at the groupchat where Jungwon had confirmed that he’ll be joining (you had asked him and Rina in a grumpy tone), your supposed date now turning into the usual hangout.
“Bro, did you just invite us to get boba? I thought we were grinding until midnight?”
Sunghoon didn’t reply, simply standing up and grabbing Jake by the hoodie, as he dragged him into a—headlock.
“Ow! What the hell?” Jake yelped.
Meanwhile, you were staring at the text, contemplating throwing your phone across the room, when another notification popped up.
Jay 🦅 sent an image.
You frowned and opened it. It was a blurry, candid photo taken in the library. In the foreground, Sunghoon had Jake in a chokehold. Sunghoon’s face was buried in his arm, his ears bright red, looking equal parts frustrated and miserable. Jake looked like a flailing hostage.
Jay 🦅: hoon is having a breakdown idk
Rina: do i even ask if he’s okay anymore
Hee: click more pics, ill need those
Jun-gone: ,, why?
Hee: science
You stared at the photo, at Sunghoon’s red ears and frustrated posture. The disappointment in your chest loosened, replaced by a sudden, warm laugh. So he had panicked. You grabbed your hoodie, the smile back on your face.
Sunghoon groaned, because this step had failed, miserably so.
STEP SEVEN: Turn your failures into wins.
The universe probably hated you, or maybe you were just dumb enough not to check in with Jake about Sunghoon’s availability in their dorms, cause somehow you found yourself there with a plan to game with the boys, Karina and Jungwon had joined in as well, which means everyone was there—everyone but Sunghoon.
“He’s at the library,” Jake had said, waving a controller dismissively as he selected a track on Mario Kart, “something about his thermodynamics assignment or whatever. I think he just forgot we were hanging out.”
So, you gamed. You played round after round, fueling yourself with soda and the competitive rage of losing to Jungwon three times in a row. But as the hours ticked by and the adrenaline crashed, the exhaustion of the week finally caught up to you. The shouting and the flashing lights of the TV became a blur as your eyes felt heavy, which is how you managed to fall asleep on the couch in this awkward position. No one bothered to wake you up.
“Leaving this to Sunghoon now,,” Jungwon muttered and Karina agreed once the session was over.
When Sunghoon finally unlocked the dorm door, the silence was jarring. He had spent the last five hours battling Carnot’s theorem, and his brain felt like mush. He expected to find a room full of pizza boxes and screaming friends. Instead, he found a dim room lit only by the standby light of the TV and Jake, who was scrolling on his phone in the armchair.
And then, he saw the couch. Sunghoon froze in the entryway, his keys still clutched in his hand. You were curled up in the corner of the beat-up sofa, cheek smushed against a throw pillow, looking comfortably disheveled, hair spilling over your face, and your soft, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room.
Sunghoon felt his chest tighten, a warm feeling spreading through his ribcage. He stood there, staring, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be cool and composed. He just looked like a guy whose heart had decided to do gymnastics because a girl was sleeping on his furniture.
“You’re late,” Jake whispered, not looking up from his phone, “we finished like an hour ago.”
Sunghoon blinked, the spell breaking slightly. He toed off his shoes, trying to be quiet, “I was studying.”
“Sure,” Jake snorted. He gestured with his chin toward the couch, “your turn to be the hero. Everyone else bailed.”
Sunghoon took a few steps closer, looking down at you—you looked so small, so peaceful. He wanted to reach out and fix the hair falling into your eyes, but his hands felt too big, too clumsy.
“She’s asleep,” Sunghoon stated the obvious, his voice hushed.
“Comatose, actually,” Jake corrected, finally standing up and stretching his back, “Jungwon destroyed her in Smash Bros, seemed like she was distracted,” Jake looked at Sunghoon, then at you, and rolled his eyes, “don’t just stare at her, dude, you look like a creep.”
“I’m not staring,” Sunghoon whispered defensively, though his ears were already turning red.
“Take her to your room,” Jake said, stifling a yawn.
Sunghoon choked on air, “my—what?”
“Your room,” Jake repeated slowly, as if talking to a toddler, “the couch is lumpy, and my room is not clean right now. Unless you want her waking up with me by her side.”
“That’s not happening,” Sunghoon muttered, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him at the thought of you waking up next to Jake, and truly, Sunghoon was a jealous man, something he did, “fine. I’ve got her.”
“Don’t drop her,” Jake yawned, disappearing into his room without another glance.
Sunghoon stood alone in the dim living room, staring at you. Okay, he just had to carry you, just hold you in his arms, simple—right? He crouched down, sliding one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He expected it to be awkward, expected to trip over the rug, but as he lifted you, he realized you fit surprisingly well in his arms, mentally patting himself on the back for acting normal.
You shifted instinctively, your head lulling to rest against his chest, nose burying into the fabric of his shirt. Sunghoon’s breath hitched, cause god, he was doing it again, trying to get a whiff of your scent, and he was terrified you’d wake up and hear his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He walked carefully down the hall, navigating the darkness and kicked his bedroom door open with his foot. The room was cool, smelling of his detergent and books. He lowered you onto his bed and you sank into the mattress immediately. Sunghoon pulled away, his arms suddenly feeling empty and cold. He stood by the bed, watching you, his hand hovering uncertainly, caressing your cheek gently before he shook his head.
He retreated to the corner, sitting down on the desk chair as he tried to distract himself with physics yet again, but he stared at you for most of the time. Now, it was a big thing for Sunghoon who was pondering deeply—would things be like this if you were to date him? Would you sleep on his bed? Would you let him stay? He was preparing himself without even knowing much. He knew your favourites by heart now—coffee order, the type of pasta you preferred, the bands you’d been listening to. He had found your Spotify account, and he blushed when he saw you actually listening to EsDeeKid when he’d mentioned he liked it.
It was the next step—be caring and attentive, but as much as he was following it, you were doing it too, without a guide, but yeah. There was no doubt he was down bad, he wanted you—needed you. But he was willing to wait, as for now, he was more than content watching you sleep on his bed (he’s not being creepy he swears—although he has done some questionable stuff before). He didn’t register much, especially the time, or the way you were shifting in your sleep.
“Hoon?” You whispered, your voice a small, happy to see him before you gathered your surroundings—it was Hoon’s room, he carried you inside.
Sunghoon jumped so violently his chair creaked, spinning around with wide eyes behind his lenses. He immediately tried to fix his posture, reaching for that composed shield, but he looked too drained to maintain it.
“Hey,” he breathed, his voice deep and rough from disuse.
He stood up and walked over to the bed, his strides careful as if he were afraid to startle you. He reached out, his hand hovering near your shoulder for a heartbeat before he gently grasped the corner of the duvet that had slipped. He tucked it back into place, his fingers lingering agonizingly close to your skin. You saw his knuckles twitch, the silent battle to touch your cheek written in the tension of his jaw, but he clenched his hand into a fist and pulled back.
“You okay? Wanna go back to sleep? It’s late,” he said softly, his eyes reflecting the dim lamp light, “It’s late.”
“You should sleep too,” you murmured mindlessly, reaching out from under the covers to catch his wrist.
Sunghoon froze, his breath hitching as he stared down at your hand against his skin. The heat of the touch was instant, and he stood rooted to the spot, trapped by the gentle pressure of your fingers.
“I will,” he lied, his voice barely a whisper, not moving an inch until you finally let go, his pulse still hammering where your fingers had been.
You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you realized the time, and even if yo didn’t want to, you said it, “I should probably go back to my dorm. I didn’t mean to take over your bed.”
Sunghoon looked at his desk, then back at you, a conflict of interest clear in his eyes, “It’s raining really hard,” he noted, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
“So—” you teased softly, the remnants of sleep making you bolder, “should I stay?”
He looked at you, his brain likely running through a twelve-step response plan, but he settled for a slow shake of his head, “I—I’ll walk you back,” he managed, his ears turning a bright crimson because he doesn’t trust himself alone with you, especially at night—especially when you say things like that, “I have an umbrella.”
You chuckled, watching him move around—you always felt so helpless especially when he looked so soft. He was so incredibly caring, and you couldn’t even deny that you wanted more, as selfish as it might sound.
The walk back was quiet, the black canopy creating a tiny, private world for the two of you as you splashed through the puddles. He walked close, his shoulder brushing yours, his hand steady on the handle to make sure you stayed dry while he took the brunt of the mist. When you reached your door, you didn’t just wave, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a firm, warm hug, your emotions taking over. Sunghoon went rigid for a microsecond before his arms wound around you, pulling you into the warmth of his chest naturally now. He rested his chin on the top of your head, inhaling sharply, wishing the night didn’t have to end.
“Goodnight, Hoonie,” you whispered against his heart.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he rasped back, watching you head inside with a gaze that was far from neutral.
It was hard to let go, he pulled you to him harder, sighing as his hands caressed your sides, and you almost whined when he put just the slightest amount of pressure before he actually let go—eyes darker than ever, as if he was having just as hard time as you if not more.
He walked back feeling emptier than ever, wondering what could have happened if he had asked you to stay. Would you have wrapped your arms around him the same way? Would you let him cuddle you to sleep—to kiss you goodnight or more?
“God,” he mumbled, finally reaching his room again and getting on his bed.
His phone chimed just then, and he frowned because who would text him this late? Mouth opening wide when he saw your notification, a picture attachment. He was scared to open it, and rightfully so. He threw his phone away with a gasp, cause no way—no fucking way you sent him your picture, on your bed, in your tank top that did nothing to hide your cleavage. He’d been doing so well, holding on so well, only to shatter at the sight of you, smiling that easy smile of yours.
Y/N-nie: thanks for tonight hoonie, sleep well 💗
Sleep? No. He grabbed the phone and managed to type a response, saving your picture as he stared deeply at the slight dimple on your face, that one mole which was barely visible—but he wanted to kiss it. The way your clavicle looked so inviting wasn’t helping his case. Was he actually getting turned on at the mere sight of what you could offer him? Yes, he was.
“No—no I can’t do this to her—no,” he mumbled, grabbing his hardening cock through the sweatpants, “pathetic,” he breathed out.
He sat back against the headboard, the air in the room feeling thick and heavy. His breath was coming in short, uneven hitches, and he couldn’t stop the frustrated sound that caught in his throat as he looked back down at the screen. The blue light washed over his face, highlighting the sheer desperation in his eyes as he took in every detail of the photo again. His hand tightened, the fabric of his sweatpants offering little relief against the insistent, pulsing ache. He felt like he was losing a war with himself. Every time he tried to blink you away, the image of that tank top and your soft, teasing smile felt like it was burned into his retinas.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he choked out, his voice a low, wrecked rasp, “you have to be.”
He shifted, his body reacting to the mental image of being there with you, of seeing that smile in person instead of through a cold glass screen. The tension was coiled so tight in his gut it was almost painful. He palmed himself again, a desperate, clumsy movement born out of a total lack of control, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud as he freed himself, wrapping his big hand around his leaking cock, groaning louder by the second. Just the image of you, the scent of you on his bed drove him into madness as he pumped himself, praying that his flatmates wouldn’t hear him.
Thrusting his hips up, he chased that feeling, delving deeper into the thoughts of you no matter how embarrassed he was at the situation, he couldn’t help but imagine your soft fingers wrapped around his cock, your pretty eyes looking up at him, calling him hoonie.
“Fuck—need you.”
He would kiss you so deeply, be so close to you so you’d breathe the same air, he’d touch you even softly—god you’d look so pretty arching into him. He gripped himself harder, wondering if you’d like him being so soft with you, wondering if you’d let him taste you, wondering if you’d want him as bad as he wants you.
Would he be soft with you? He’s pretty sure he’d lose control and come off too strong, and maybe you’d like seeing him take control. The image of you moaning his name, pulling him closer and into your pretty pussy—yeah, that had him stroking himself harder, groaning out your name, each sound rougher than the last.
Yes, it was embarrassing how fast his body gave in, thick ropes of cum staining his bed sheet and sweats as he focused on his breathing with his eyes closed, “so fucking pathetic,” he mumbled.
He isn’t sure his step worked out, but he knew one thing—he had never felt such an insane surge of pleasure before.
STEP EIGHT: Mission abort
Guilty.
That was all what Sunghoon felt after waking up—because how did he even manage to get hard at an innocent picture of you? It didn’t matter now, he had fucked up, and now he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, contemplating his choices. First—he can go out and continue acting as if nothing happened, or second—he can hide in his room and stay locked away forever and ever. The latter seemed very tempting, but that also meant he’d never see you again—the absolute love of his life.
The idea itself was so haunting, that he had no option but to jump in his room, hyping himself for the next meeting—which he was orchestrating by asking Jungwon about your schedule (again), and he was relieved to hear that you were in the library, alone. Maybe he would feel better if he gets to talk to you one on one, since that opportunity has been rare (happened twice and he was struggling). So, he wore a nice button up, parted his hair to the side, sprayed a decent amount of cologne—all while Jake stared at him, amused.
“Are you gonna ask her out?”
Hoon flinched, “Gosh—why don’t you guys ever knock?” He mumbled, pouting a little.
“I’m just going to the library,” Sunghoon deflected, turning back to the mirror to fix a strand of hair that was already perfect, “to study. Alone.”
“Right,” Jake snorted, not looking up from his phone, “just don’t trip on your way to Y/N.”
Sunghoon ignored him, grabbed his wallet, and marched out the door with the grim determination of a soldier going into battle—albeit one armed with a debit card and a crippling fear of rejection. He made a strategic detour to the campus café, the one you swore had the best blueberry cheesecake in the city. He ordered a slice to go and your favorite iced vanilla latte, his brain reciting the text he had highlighted on his laptop screen earlier.
Step 9: Surprise them with small gestures.
Bringing them their favorite snack or drink shows that you listen and that you care about their comfort. It creates a positive association with your presence.
“I listen,” Sunghoon whispered to himself as he carefully balanced the cardboard carrier and the pastry box against the biting wind, “I am a great listener, I am thoughtful, I can do it.”
He felt good, today, he was the guy in the button-up bringing coffee. He had upgraded himself to the romantic lead of a rom-com, from the previous indie movie actor. He reached the library, navigating the quiet rows of books with a newfound confidence. He knew exactly where to find the Biology section—the corner table by the window, he rounded the corner, a rehearsed casual greeting on his lips—Oh, hey, just happened to be in the neighborhood with pastries—but the words died in his throat.
You were there, just like Jungwon said, however, the composition of the scene was wrong. Sitting beside you, occupying the space Sunghoon had mentally reserved for himself, was a guy. Sunghoon didn’t know him, but he immediately felt a surge of irrational hostility. The guy wasn’t wearing a stiff button-up or drowning in expensive cologne. He was wearing a faded, oversized hoodie, leaning back in his chair with a maddening, effortless slouch that made Sunghoon nervous.
Sunghoon froze behind a stack of anatomy encyclopedias, clutching the cheesecake box so hard the cardboard buckled under his thumb.
“If you skew the standard deviation any further, this becomes a guessing game, not a lab report,” the guy said, tapping his pen against your screen.
You laughed and it wasn’t the polite, reserved chuckle you gave strangers, It was the unguarded, head-thrown-back laugh that you provided Hoon with. You nudged the guy’s shoulder playfully.
“We gotta optimize the data, Jaemin,” you teased, “look at that bell curve. It’s beautiful.”
Jaemin grinned, looking at you with a familiarity that made Sunghoon’s stomach drop, “so what? You can’t just gaslight E. Coli into fitting your hypothesis.”
Sunghoon looked down at himself. He saw the carefully ironed shirt, the polished shoes, the thoughtful surprise that suddenly felt like a desperate bribe. He felt like a caricature—a man masquerading as a romantic lead while the actual protagonist was sitting right there in a beat-up hoodie, speaking your language, making you laugh about bacteria without even trying.
The WikiHow guide hadn’t prepared him for this. It had steps for flirting, steps for eye contact, steps for mirroring body language, it didn’t have a step for watching the girl you like shine brightly at someone else, unaware that he was even in the room. He turned on his heel, the movement sharp and painful. He walked back toward the exit, his pace quickening until he was practically fleeing the scene, the cheerful chime of the library door mocking him as he stepped out into the biting wind. Sunghoon had never been good with jealousy, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to pull you away from the guy and kiss you right there, god he’d do so much just to prove a point, but no—he had to stay calm, for now at least, and leaving was the only option.
The chime of the door made you look up from your laptop. The smile that had been on your face while joking with Jaemin faded instantly as you checked your phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. The screen still displayed the last text from Jungwon—he’s on his way, said he has a surprise. You frowned, your brows knitting together as you scanned the entrance, but there was no one there. The library was quiet, devoid of the tall, clumsy boy you had been hoping to see.
“Everything okay?” Jaemin asked, noticing your shift in mood.
“Yeah,” you sighed, dropping your phone face-down on the table with a dull thud of disappointment, “I just thought—never mind. Back to the assignment.”
Outside, Sunghoon sat on a secluded concrete bench, oblivious to the fact that you had been looking for him. He placed the cooling coffee on the ground and opened the pastry box.
“I hate blueberry,” he muttered, picking up the plastic fork with shaking fingers.
He ate the cheesecake aggressively, he felt ridiculous, he was a grown man sitting in the cold eating a cake meant for a girl who was currently laughing about standard deviations with someone else, all because he needed an internet article to tell him how to be a human being.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, the tab was still open:
WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures).
He stared at the cheerful illustrations, the bullet points that promised success if he just followed the formula, it all looked so hollow now, so sterile.
“Stupid,” he hissed. He closed the tab, closing the browser next before he cleared his history, as if scrubbing the evidence of his own incompetence.
He was done. He was done treating you like a puzzle to be solved with cheat codes. Watching you with Jaemin had triggered something visceral in him—not just jealousy, but a terrifying clarity. He didn’t want to be the guy who surprised you with coffee because a website told him to, he wanted to be the guy who could make you laugh like that naturally
“Tomorrow,” he said to the empty bench, tossing the empty cake box into the trash with a decisive thud.
The end-of-semester party was tomorrow night, everyone would be there. There would be no scripts, no steps, no hiding behind Jake or a stack of books.
“I’m just going to tell her,” he decided, the wind ruffling his carefully parted hair, “I’m going to walk up to her, and I’m going to tell her. No more steps.”
He stood up, wiping a crumb from his lip. He felt terrified, he also felt nauseous, but for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like a project—he felt like Sunghoon.
And Sunghoon was going to confess to you.
STEP NINE: Be yourself (or not)
“Why am I wearing this again?” You asked as Karina stood behind you, zipping up your dress—which was beautiful, however, Karina wasn’t the one to instruct you on your dressing choices.
“Cause I’m fed up of you and Hoon being dumb, maybe this will make him realize what he’s been missing,” she muttered, making you roll your eyes.
“He didn’t even show up at the library, Rin. I think the message is pretty clear—and just when I thought we were actually going somewhere, especially with how sweet he was when I slept at his dorm,” you mumbled, smoothing down the fabric, “he’s not interested.”
“Or,” Karina countered, spinning you around to face the mirror, “he’s an idiot who got lost in his own head. Look at you girl—If Park Sunghoon doesn’t lose his mind tonight, he’s officially clinically dead.”
You stared at your reflection, and you felt nervous, thinking of backing out now, but Karina was already shoving a purse into your hands and dragging you out the door before you could overthink it. The frat house was vibrating before you even stepped inside. The bass rattled your teeth, and the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and humidity. It was the kind of scene Sunghoon usually avoided, or endured by standing in the back looking bored and devastatingly handsome.
You scanned the room instinctively, your eyes darting over the sea of bobbing heads and red Solo cups, but the familiar silhouette of broad shoulders and perfectly styled dark hair was nowhere to be found. You told yourself you weren’t looking for him, that you were here to dance and forget about the odds, but your subconscious was a traitor. Every time the door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and fresh bodies, your heart did a hopeful little stutter in your chest, only to sink when it wasn’t him.
“He’s not here,” Karina shouted over the thumping bass, reading your mind with terrifying accuracy. She handed you a drink that smelled like fruit punch, “stop looking. If he shows up, he shows up. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss. Now come on, they’re playing that song you like.”
You let her drag you onto the makeshift dance floor, the sticky residue of spilled beer gripping the soles of your shoes. You tried to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the vibrations of the music rattle the anxiety out of your bones, but the knot in your stomach remained tight. Thirty minutes later, you started feeling odd. It was subtle at first—a ripple of whispers, heads turning toward the entryway. You were by the kitchen island, trying to cool down with a cup of water, when you saw him.
Park Sunghoon had arrived.
And he wasn’t alone; Jake was flanking him like a bodyguard, but Sunghoon didn’t look like he needed protection. He looked—different, gone were the oversized, comforting hoodies. Tonight, he was wearing all black—a fitted shirt that somehow emphasized the sharp line of his jaw and dark jeans that made his legs look miles long. He wasn’t checking his phone, he didn’t even bother scanning the room with that panicked, deer-in-headlights look he usually wore, he looked focused, determined even.
He stood near the entrance, declining a drink offered by a hopeful sophomore, his eyes now cutting through the haze of the party as if he was looking for someone.
“Target acquired,” Jake muttered into Sunghoon’s ear, nudging him hard enough that Sunghoon stumbled a step forward, breaking his cool facade for a second.
Sunghoon followed Jake’s gaze and locked onto you instantly. The noise of the party seemed to fade into white noise for him. You were standing under the harsh kitchen light, the dress Karina picked hugging your frame, looking absolutely breathtaking and terrifyingly out of his league. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he started to move toward you, his strides long and purposeful.
But before he could reach the kitchen island, you turned abruptly, intercepted by a group of girls who grabbed your arm and pulled you and Karina towards the back hallway—the one usually reserved for coats and couples looking for privacy. You looked confused, casting one last glance over your shoulder, but the crowd swallowed Sunghoon’s view of you.
“Where is she going?” Sunghoon frowned, the panic starting to creep back in.
“Looks like interrogation,” Jake said, squinting, “uh-oh—that’s the gossip squad. Come on.”
Sunghoon didn’t need to be told twice. He followed you, weaving through the sweaty bodies, Jake trailing close behind. They reached the entrance of the narrow, dimly lit hallway just as the voices drifted out. Sunghoon raised a hand to stop Jake, pressing his back against the wall just outside the hallway entrance. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the sound of his own name froze him in place.
“So, be honest,” a voice purred, that made the hair on the back of Sunghoon's neck stand up, “are you his next target?”
Sunghoon froze. He looked at Jake, whose eyes had gone wide, his hand hovering over Sunghoon’s shoulder as if to restrain him. He knew the bullshit the girls used to spew about them, but actually cornering you was concerning.
“Target?” your voice rang out, incredulous, “what are you even talking about?”
“Oh, come on,” the girl laughed, “we know the type. He puts on that whole innocent act, standing in the corner looking all bored and mysterious, but it’s just a trap, right? I heard he’s actually wild. That he has a whole rotation of girls and he just plays the quiet card to lure you in.”
“Yeah,” another voice chimed in, “he looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. A total player, my friend says he’s dangerous, he had a go at her.”
Sunghoon felt a strange, conflicting tightness in his chest. Part of him—the part that had spent hours reading WikiHow articles on how to be cool—held his breath. He didn’t wish to be perceived as a player, obviously, but he desperately wanted to be seen as a man, someone capable. He waited, heart hammering against his ribs, hoping you would defend him by saying he was respectful, or intense, or maybe even just—cool.
Instead, he heard you scoff, as if you were offended, “dangerous?” You repeated, the word sounding ridiculous in your mouth, “Park Sunghoon? Are you guys blind?”
“Excuse me?” the girl sounded taken aback.
“He isn’t a fuckboy,” you snapped, your voice rising in defense of him, fueled by the protective anger of someone who knew the truth, and you’d been on edge all day, which made Karina look at you with concern, wondering where this is going, “he’s barely even a guy in the way you’re thinking. He’s—he’s so innocent, you’re just tainting his image.”
The word hung in the dank hallway air. Innocent. Sunghoon felt the color drain from his face.
“Innocent?” the girl challenged, “with that face? Please.”
“I’m serious,” you insisted, stepping closer to them, your voice softening into a tone that sounded painfully, devastatingly like pity to Sunghoon’s ears, “he’s not mysterious, he’s just shy, he doesn’t have a roster, he has a skincare routine that has twelve steps. He drinks banana milk because he thinks coffee makes him too jittery sometimes.”
Sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut. Stop, he begged silently. Please, just stop. But you were on a roll, determined to clear his name of these vile accusations, unaware that you were simultaneously dismantling his entire romantic potential, making him feel as if you never saw him as something beyond someone who was just clumsy and cute, as if you didnt see him as a guy after all, as if he couldn’t what—fuck you?
“He’s not like that, okay? He’s like—a puppy,” you said, and fondness in your voice went unnoticed by Hoon, “a newborn puppy on ice. He trips over his own feet when he gets excited. He’s clumsy and sweet and completely harmless.”
Harmless. The word echoed in Sunghoon’s skull, drowning out the thumping bass of the party. Harmless, safe, a puppy. Yes, you were defending him but—he couldn’t even thank you for that, simply wondering what would have happened if he actually confessed. Would you have laughed in his face and called him just a friend?
Jake slowly turned to look at Sunghoon. The amusement was gone from his face, replaced by a cringe of profound sympathy. He looked at Sunghoon’s white knuckles, at the devastation etched into the sharp lines of his jaw.
“Dude,” Jake whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.
Sunghoon felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had wanted to be the protagonist. He had wanted to be the protector, the one who held you during horror movies. He wanted you to see him as a man who could sweep you off your feet. And all this time, you didn’t see him as a man at all. You saw him as a loser, you didn’t look at him with desire—you looked at him with the same fondness one might have for a particularly incompetent golden retriever.
“Let’s go,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice hollow and scraping against his throat.
“But—you were gonna tell her—”
“I said let’s go.”
Sunghoon didn’t wait for Jake. He pushed off the wall, turning his back on the hallway where you were passionately defending his lack of masculinity. He moved through the crowd blindly, shoving past sweaty bodies, the bass pounding in his ears mocking the frantic, broken rhythm of his heart. He felt small and stupid. He felt like the massive loser he feared he was.
He burst out of the front door into the cold night air, gasping as if he had been drowning. He didn’t look back, he couldn’t. He just walked, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the girl who thought he was a loser.
STEP TEN: Accepting defeat
Radio silence.
You had never felt this agitated in your life, never missed someone so much in your life. It had been over a week and you hadn’t seen Sunghoon, and the worst part? You didn’t even know what was wrong, was he just ignoring you or was it the same for others as well? You could have sworn he was at the party, and as soon as you were done with the girls, you had come out to search for him, only to feel his absence even further.
You checked your phone again, hoping to see a reply but no.
You: are you okay hoonie?
You: jake said you are sick
Those were the texts you had sent five days back, but you didn’t stop there.
You: is everything okay?
You: hoon?
You: did i do something wrong
He hadn’t even read it, simply left you on delivered. The lack of response resulted in a physical ache in your chest. You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last week in your head. Had you been too clingy? Had the hug outside the dorm been too much? Or maybe, just maybe, those girls were right, and he had simply decided he was bored of his current toy.
No, you thought, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. He’s not like that—he’s Sunghoon. He’s the guy who covers you with umbrellas and brings you coffee. He’s the guy who looked at you like you were the only person in the room. But if he was that guy, then where was he? The uncertainty was gnawing at you, turning your usual confidence into a frayed mess of nerves. You missed his awkwardness. You missed his sudden bursts of confidence followed by immediate regret. You missed the way he made you feel like you were safe.
Across campus, inside the dorm that smelled of despair, Park Sunghoon was currently lying face-down on the living room rug. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Inside his head, it was a funeral. He was eulogizing his manhood, his romantic prospects, and his dignity. The word echoed in the cavern of his skull—harmless, harmless, harmless.
“Are you going to rot there all day?” A voice asked from above.
Sunghoon groaned, refusing to look up, “leave me alone, Jay. I’m decomposing.”
“You’re blocking the path to the kitchen,” Jay said, nudging Sunghoon’s ribs with his foot, “and you’ve been listening to sad bollywood playlists for three days straight when you don’t even understand the lyrics.”
“Let him rot,” Jake’s voice drifted in from the couch, though it lacked his usual biting sarcasm, “he’s mourning the death of his ego.”
Sunghoon shot up, sitting cross-legged on the rug with a sudden, frantic energy. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“I’m not mourning my ego,” Sunghoon snapped, though his voice cracked, betraying him instantly, “I’m facing the fucking reality. She called me innocent, Jake. She told them I wasn’t shit.”
“She did not say that dude, she was defending you, you idiot,” Jay interjected, leaning against the doorframe with a dish towel in hand, “I wasn’t even there, and even I know that. Jake told me the whole story.”
“She defended me by neutering me!” Sunghoon argued, the humiliation burning fresh in his chest, “She told them I am clumsy—which is true but—she sees me as a child, Jay. You don’t date children, you babysit them."
“She literally meant she’s comfy with you,” Jake tried to reason, sitting up.
“I don’t want to be comfortable,” Sunghoon hissed, standing up and pacing the small room, “I wanted to be—I don’t know, someone she actually desires.”
He felt foolish for even trying. The button-up shirts, the cologne, the WikiHow articles—it was all just dressing up a golden retriever in a tuxedo. At the end of the day, you saw right through it. You saw the clumsy, anxious mess underneath and decided he was something to be coddled.
“Okay, enough,” Jay decided, tossing the dish towel onto the counter, “you're spiraling. Put on shoes, we’re going to get food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Nobody asked,” Jay said, grabbing his keys, “Jake, grab his other arm.”
Despite his protests, Sunghoon was manhandled into a jacket and dragged out of the dorm. He walked with his head down, hands shoved deep into his pockets, reverting to his resting bitch face now, not because he wanted to look cool, but because he wanted to disappear. They made it to the campus plaza, the wind biting at Sunghoon’s cheeks. He was busy staring at a crack in the pavement, plotting his transfer to a university on a different continent, when Jake elbowed him.
“Hoon—look.”
Sunghoon looked up to find you walking out of the convenience store, laughing at something Karina was saying. You looked tired, your eyes a little puffy as if you’d cried, but the moment you spotted the trio, your face transformed and his heart hurt—it actually hurt. The worry on your face vanished, replaced by a radiant, relieved smile. You took a step toward him, your eyes locking onto his with that familiar warmth. You looked so happy to see him. And that broke him.
Because to Sunghoon, that smile didn’t look like love. It looked like relief of finding a close friend or something similar (he truly had been blind—an overthinker self sabotaging himself). He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t stand there and be the recipient of your pity.
“Hoon?” You called out from a distance, your voice hopeful.
Sunghoon’s jaw tightened and he didn’t wave, didn’t smile back, he didn’t even acknowledge the greeting. He turned his head sharply, breaking eye contact, and walked right back towards his dorm.
“Sunghoon?” Jake hissed, grabbing at his sleeve, “what the fuck are you doing? She’s right there.”
Sunghoon ripped his arm away from Jake’s grip, “I’m going back,” he muttered, his voice cold and flat.
He walked away, leaving you standing on the pavement with your hand half-raised, the smile sliding off your face. You watched his retreating back, the way his shoulders were hunched against the wind. Confusion washed over you first—had he not seen you? But no, he had looked you dead in the eye. He had seen your relief, your joy at seeing him alive, and he had looked at you with something that looked disturbingly like resentment. He just—walked away.
The confusion hardened into something sharper. You had spent a week worrying, heck, you had been crying over him. You had defended him to those girls, you had sent texts that went unanswered, you had lost sleep wondering if he was okay. And he just walked away without even doing as much as acknowledging you.
“Okay,” you whispered to the empty air, lowering your hand, “okay, Park Sunghoon, be that way.”
If he wanted to act like you didn’t exist after everything, fine. You turned back to Karina, your eyes dry and your expression steely, “let’s go,” you said, your voice devoid of the warmth you had reserved for him, “I’m done.”
You started walking as Karina looked back, glaring at Jay as if he could’ve done something—anything, but he was just as frozen, standing with Jake who could feel a headache forming in his head.
“The fuck just happened?” Jake asked, and Jay shook his head.
“Two of the nicest people I’ve met are acting like emotionless mannequins,” Jay mumbled, “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“He doesn’t realize that Y/N meant well—even if the way she worded it hit him hard, can he stop being so difficult? Did he not see how happy she was to see him?”
“Well—now what?”
Jake shook his head with a sigh, “we suffer—all of us.”
And suffer you did.
The days that followed didn’t feel like time passing; they felt like a slow, suffocating slide into permafrost. The end-of-semester exams descended upon the campus providing the perfect, miserable backdrop for two people who were determined to freeze each other out.
The party was a distant, feverish memory, replaced by the stark reality of the library and 24-hour study halls. But if anyone thought the pressure of finals would distract you from the hollow ache in your chest, they were wrong. If anything, the silence of the study rooms only made the noise in your head louder.
You became efficient, terrifyingly so. You attended every lecture, submitted every lab report early, and sat in the front row with a posture so rigid it looked painful. You didn’t laugh with Jaemin anymore, in fact, you barely spoke to anyone outside of necessary academic exchanges. You were over it, you told yourself, you were busy. You had a GPA to maintain and a future to build, and neither of those things required a boy who treated your concern like an insult.
But Karina knew better. She saw the way your eyes lingered on the back of a black hoodie in the cafeteria before snapping away. She saw the way you checked your phone every time it vibrated, only to toss it aside with a scowl when it wasn’t him.
Across the quad, Sunghoon was disintegrating in his own way. He moved through the campus like a ghost, his headphones permanently glued to his ears—though half the time, nothing was playing. He just didn’t want to hear the world asking him if he was okay. He studied, or at least, he tried, staring at thermodynamics equations until the Greek letters started to look like your initials. He sat in the library—not at your table, never at your table—but in the far back corner, hidden behind the stacks. He told himself he was proving a point (he didnt even know what anymore).
But every time he drank black coffee (which he still hated) instead of banana milk, he felt a little piece of himself wither. He missed the warmth, he missed the way you used to look at him before he ruined it. Now, when you passed each other in the corridor, the air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. There were no shy glances, no blushing ears. Just two strangers walking past each other with aggressive apathy, while their mutual friends trailed behind, looking like they wanted to scream.
“It’s like watching a car crash,” Jake whispered to Jungwon one afternoon in the library. They were watching Sunghoon stare blankly at a blank Word document.
“Worse,” Jungwon muttered, eyeing you across the room where you were aggressively highlighting a textbook without actually reading it, “It’s like watching two cars almost crashing but never quite reaching there, being stubborn and all.”
The tension came to a head on Tuesday night. The library was packed, the air thick with the smell of stress and stale caffeine. You were printing a paper, waiting for the machine to finish, when Sunghoon walked up to the adjacent printer. You didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at you (he did, and he swore under his breath seeing how pretty you looked wearing that skirt he loved).
The silence between you was louder than the whirring of the machines. You could smell him—that damn cologne and clean laundry, and it made your eyes sting. You wanted to scream, you wanted to ask him why he was being such a coward, you wanted to hug him—kiss him.
Sunghoon stood rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped his folder. He could see you in his peripheral vision. You looked tired, he wanted to ask if you were sleeping. He wanted to offer you his jacket because the library was freezing, but the word harmless flashed in his mind like a warning sign. She doesn’t want you, his brain supplied unhelpfully. She pities you.
Your printer beeped and you snatched your papers.
“Excuse me,” you said, your voice polite, as you stepped around him.
“Sure,” he replied, his voice equally flat.
You walked away without looking back. Sunghoon watched you go, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with physics and everything to do with the fact that he was miserably, hopelessly in love with the girl he was currently pretending to hate.
“I hate it here,” Jake groaned from a nearby table, dropping his head onto his open textbook, “I really, really hate it here.”
STEP ELEVEN: Let jealousy take the wheel
“Oh she looks beautiful!”
Jake and Jay kept on cooing, staring at the pictures Jungwon was showing them—pictures of you. Well, since the end sems were over, Karina had decided to do a mini photo shoot with you and Jungwon, and since it wasn’t really a request, you had to comply.
Sunghoon was on the couch, heart hammering at the praises, but he didn’t (couldn’t) ask Jungwon to show him the pictures, which only made Jake compliment you harder. Jungwon shook his head, absolutely done with whatever was going on, he started screen sharing so the pictures would appear on the TV, and Sunghoon tried his best not to look up, but he did. For the first time in a while, his friends could see his eyes shining. You looked beautiful—you always did, and good lord, Sunghoon missed you—cursing himself for behaving exactly how a child would.
He stared more, it was a pretty picture of you sitting on the grass and smiling—however, it didn’t reach your eyes. Sunghoon wondered who were you smiling at, granted Karina was sitting on the other side of you. He saw a hand, a hand that did not look like Jungwon’s hand, and he felt even more nauseous at the image of some other man being there and making you smile.
You had been so detached from reality, you didn’t understand it—you hadn’t processed just how attached you’d felt to Sunghoon, only for him to switch up midway, and you wondered how he was taking it.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, muttering something about needing water, and retreated to the sanctuary of his room.
“The kitchen is that way, Hoon,” Jay pointed out helpfully, gesturing in the opposite direction.
“My room,” Sunghoon corrected, not breaking stride, “I have—water in my room.”
He sat on the edge of his bed, taking his MacBook out as he opened the one site that had guided him (poorly) through this entire semester—WikiHow.
He started typing, what to do when you’ve ruined everything with the girl you love and she thinks you’re a child.
No results.
He didn’t give up, trying to find variants, how to fix a relationship when you ghosted her out of insecurity.
The algorithm struggled. Finally, he clicked the same one he’d been following all along—how to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures). He scrolled past the ads to the last step which said—If it doesn’t work out: accept that it’s over. If she says no or seems distant, respect her space and move onto a new girl.
Sunghoon stared at the screen. Move on to a new girl.
He slammed the laptop shut, he couldn’t do that. The mere thought of looking at someone else, of trying to memorize someone else’s coffee order or the way they laughed, made him feel physically ill. He didn’t want new, he wanted you. He wanted the girl who called him Hoonie and defended him, even if her defense had shattered his ego into a million pieces, and he hid instead of proving her wrong.
He buried his face in his hands, he couldn’t move on, but he didn’t know how to move back.
Back in the living room, the atmosphere had shifted from admiration to, well, tactical planning.
“He’s hopeless,” Jake said, staring at the closed door of Sunghoon’s room, “did you see his face? He looked like a kicked puppy again.”
“We can’t keep doing this,” Jay agreed, leaning back and crossing his arms, “the atmosphere in this dorm is insane. Sunghoon is miserable, Y/N is miserable, and I’m tired of hearing sad playlists through the wall I swear—they need to fuck it out.”
Jungwon disconnected his phone from the TV, a determined look on his face (before he gave Jay an odd look, of course), “we need to force them into the same room.”
“How?” Jake asked, “Hoon won’t leave his room unless the building is on fire.”
“A party,” Jungwon said simply, “Beomgyu texted. They’re throwing a massive end of Exams bash in the Grand Suite downstairs like two days later, it’s the biggest dorm and everyone is going.”
“Sunghoon hates parties,” Jay pointed out.
“Exactly,” Jungwon smirked, “which is why we aren’t asking him—we’re dragging him.”
“And Y/N?”
“Karina is already on it,” Jungwon said, holding up his phone to show a text confirmation, “she’s bringing Y/N. The plan is simple honestly, just get them in the room. If they see each other, they’ll have to interact—if Y/N doesn’t break, Hoon sure will.”
“Sounds risky but okay,” Jake muttered.
“Well, do we have any other options?” Jay asked, only to be met with silence, “great, then operation—get them to fuck is a go.”
“I don’t really like the operation name—”
“—Leave the styling to me,” Jay said, spinning the keys around his finger as he headed for the door, his mission clear, “I’m going to the mall. He needs an edge. I’m getting him a leather jacket—”
Jake and Jungwon shook their head, hoping it will work out for the better.
STEP TWELVE: Grand romantic (?) gesture
“I’m not going,” you mumbled, staring at La La Land playing on your MacBook (again), and you knew well you were torturing yourself, calling it your coping mechanism.
Karina sighed, “you need to let loose, it’s not the end of the world,” she muttered, snapping the laptop shut, “and watching Emma Stone get her heart broken for the fifth time this week isn’t going to fix yours.”
“It’s not broken,” you lied, rolling over and burying your face into the pillow to muffle the waver in your voice, “It’s just—bruised. Badly.”
It felt like more than a bruise, though. It felt like a phantom limb ache—a nagging, persistent sensation of something missing that should have been there. It had been days of absolute radio silence from Sunghoon. No awkward texts or Pokémon memes, no shy glances across the campus quad, no memes sent at 2 AM. Just a sudden, inexplicable void where his presence used to be. You had replayed the last week in your mind until the memories were frayed at the edges, trying to pinpoint the exact moment the shift happened.
The thought gnawed at you. You remembered defending him with such ferocity, calling him innocent and harmless, painting a picture of a boy who was sweet and misunderstood. Now, lying in the dark, you felt like a fool. Maybe he wasn’t misunderstood. Maybe he was just a guy who got bored and moved on, leaving you to dissect the silence he left behind.
“Get up,” Karina commanded, pulling the duvet off you, “Beomgyu’s party is starting, and I am not walking into that sweatbox alone. Besides, if he’s there, don’t you want him to see what he’s missing? Do you really want him to think you’re rotting in bed over him?”
That struck a nerve, the indignation flared up, burning through the lethargy. You didn’t want his pity, and you certainly didn’t want him to think he had the power to dismantle your entire life with a week of silence (he did and you missed him). You sat up, pushing hair out of your face with a grim determination. It was amusing to the others—watching you and Hoon having this insane personality shift, but garnering feelings would do that to anyone, so they couldn’t really question it.
“Fine,” you snapped, though there was no real bite in it, “but if I see him and he ignores me, I’m gonna kiss the first guy i see after him.”
You were lying (obviously), you couldn’t even imagine kissing anyone but him. At first it used to be sweet, you wanted to know if he’d smile into the kiss—but now? Now you wanted him to actually break and prove a point, which seemed a distant thought granted he wasn’t even willing to look your way.
Sunghoon was undergoing the same thought process in his room where Jay had shoved a very expensive leather jacket his way with a simple command to dress up for the party which made no sense because Sunghoon hated parties, and somehow, he thought that you would not be there—would you? Then his mind drifted to the guy from the library and he realized that maybe you would be there—there with him.
“He’s buffering again,” Heeseung noted from the doorway, watching Sunghoon stare at the leather jacket as if it were a sentient threat, “Hoon, if you don’t go, you’re just proving you’re a coward. You’re going to let some other guy take your spot because you’re too busy sulking?”
Sunghoon’s head snapped up. The thought of Jaemin at the party, standing in the space he should be occupying, made his stomach do a violent flip. He realized that yes, you would be there—and the thought of you being there with him was a catalyst that finally burned through his lethargy.
“Fine,” Sunghoon gritted out, grabbing the jacket. He stood up, his height and the sharp lines of the leather making him look like a stranger even to his roommates.
“Great,” Jay muttered, though he gave Sunghoon a lingering, skeptical look, “I’m not letting you leave that party until you open your mouth and say something that isn’t an apology for existing.”
The walk down to Beomgyu’s suite was a blur of neon lights and thumping bass. The Grand dorm was the largest in the building, and tonight it was a humid, vibrating mass of people. Sunghoon felt like a passenger in his own body, his social anxiety acting like a lead weight, yet the leather jacket served as a suit of armor. He ended up leaning against the kitchenette counter, a red cup held in a white-knuckled grip, completely zoned out as the other boys left to find Jungwon to discuss the situation.
Despite his internal collapse, he looked devastating. A group of girls had already drifted toward him, laughing and brushing against his sleeves which he was not comfortable with, but he didn’t hear a word they said. He was staring at the door, his heart hammering against his ribs in a frantic, desperate rhythm, not paying attention to the girl who clearly wanted a night with him, cause he had reserved that for someone else tonight (and forever if things worked out right).
He closed his eyes for a while, just standing there collecting his thoughts as the group watched from a distance, muttering about how they weren’t even sure what to expect anymore, but gladly, Karina had informed them about their arrival, which Hoon missed—but you did not miss the way he was there, as if put on display right there for you to feel even worse.
You turned away, your eyes stinging, desperate to find an exit, a drink, anything to numb the sudden spike of pain.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
The voice was smooth, familiar, and right in your ear. You turned to see Jaemin standing there, a lazy, charming grin plastered on his face. He looked effortless, holding a drink in one hand, his posture relaxed and open—the antithesis of the tension radiating from the kitchenette.
“Hey, Jaemin,” you managed, though your voice sounded thin to your own ears.
“You look incredible,” Jaemin said, stepping into your personal space with a confidence that felt practiced yet sincere. He tilted his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “though you look like you’re plotting a murder, do you need an alibi?”
You let out a weak, breathy laugh, grateful for the distraction, “just overwhelmed. It’s loud in here.”
“It is,” Jaemin agreed, leaning closer so you could hear him over the pounding bass, “I’m just feeling lucky to catch you without your usual entourage.”
Across the room, Sunghoon had opened his eyes again, now trying to find Jake, to inform him that he wishes to leave, especially when he couldn’t find you—but oh he did, and the static in Sunghoon’s brain cleared with a violent snap. He had been zoning out, letting the chatter of the girls around him fade into white noise, his mind a continuous loop of misery. But the moment his eyes landed on you, everything sharpened. He saw the way you looked—beautiful and somehow sad, and then he saw Jaemin.
He watched Jaemin lean in. He watched the easy familiarity, the way Jaemin smiled at you, the way you offered a small, reluctant smile in return. It was a smile Sunghoon hadn’t earned in days. And then Jaemin reached out, his fingers brushing a lock of hair away from your face, his touch lingering near your cheek.
The innocent boy within him died right there. The harmless label incinerated in a flash of pure, blinding jealousy. Sunghoon didn’t think about this, just felt a rush of adrenaline—which is why he felt so confident now, so sure of what he had to do, and it was interesting how one hormone could manage to switch up someone to such lengths.
He moved through the crowd with a purpose now, his eyes locked on Jaemin like a predator sighting a threat. He was like a storm front moving across the room. You were just about to answer Jaemin’s question when the air shifted. A shadow fell over you, and before you could turn, a heavy arm clamped around your waist, pulling you backward until you were flush against a hard, solid chest. The scent of expensive cologne and leather enveloped you instantly, drowning out the stale beer smell of the party.
Sunghoon stood behind you, his body a wall of heat, his grip on your waist possessive and unyielding. He wasn’t looking at you. His dark, furious eyes were bored into Jaemin, his jaw set so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek.
“You should leave now,” Sunghoon said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that vibrated against your back, completely devoid of any stutter or hesitation, and for a minute, you just tried to process the situation, heart hammering in your chest.
Jaemin blinked, his smile faltering as he looked from the white-knuckled grip on your waist to Sunghoon’s icy glare, “I’m just catching up, Sunghoon. Relax.”
“Conversation’s over,” Sunghoon snapped, his fingers digging into the silk of your dress, staking a claim that required no interpretation, “leave.”
And he did, knowing when to turn back and sent a wink towards Jungwon, who had put Jaemin up to this—and it seemed as if their plan had worked, though, it was a hilarious sight to see the boys hiding at the back with their jaws hung wide open, Heeseung laughing freely.
“What the fuck—let go of me, Sunghoon,” you almost screamed, trying to pry his hands off of you.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he spun you around, his eyes dark and burning with this volatile mix of desperation and the remains of that blinding jealousy. He didn’t look at the group of boys huddled near the drinks, whose jaws were indeed still dropped at the sudden, predatory shift in the guy they usually described as buffering, he only looked at you, his jaw set in that same tight line that suggested he was one second away from either shattering or exploding. Without a word, he grabbed your hand—his palm hot and slightly damp against yours—and began weaving through the crowd, hauling you toward the exit.
“The fuck are you doing?” You asked, stunned at his new behaviour.
“We’re not doing this here,” he said, jaw clenched.
“Oh—now you wanna talk, huh?” You seethed—because god, you were so angry, so confused and yet your heartbeat betrayed you because you were looking forward to what he had to say, what excuse he wished to use.
The walk up the stairs to the boys’ floor was a blur of cold concrete and the echoing sound of your heels. He didn’t stop until he had reached his door, swinging it open and pulling you inside before slamming it shut with a finality that made the air in the small room feel suddenly very thin. The silence of the dorm was jarring after the chaos downstairs, but it wasn’t a peaceful quiet, it was heavy and pregnant with everything that had been left unsaid since before the exams began.
“You don’t get to do that,” you snapped the moment he let go of your hand, the anger finally breaking through the shock, “you do not get to treat me like I’m invisible for weeks, ignoring my texts and walking past me in the library like I’m a fucking ghost, only to act jealous because you saw me talking to someone else.”
Sunghoon paced the small space of his room, his hands shaking as he pushed them through his hair, successfully ruining the perfect styling Jay had insisted on, “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose,” he shot back, his voice cracking with a jagged edge you had never heard before, “I was stopping you from looking at him the way you used to look at me before you decided I was someone you couldn’t even consider a man.”
“A man? What are you even talking about?” You yelled, stepping into his space, refusing to let him retreat into the mysterious silence he used as a shield, “I have spent weeks wondering what I did wrong! I was crying over you, Sunghoon. I defended you when everyone was asking why you were acting like this, only for you to ignore me right when I was there in front of you!”
“That’s exactly the problem!” Sunghoon roared, finally stopping his pacing and turning to face you, his eyes glassy, “I heard you, Y/N. At the party before finals, I was right there in the hallway when you were telling those girls exactly what you think of me.”
You froze, the memory of the gossip squad cornering you flashing through your mind, “yeah? And what’s wrong about it? I was defending you! They were calling you a fuckboy.”
“By basically calling me what—a loser?” He hissed, stepping closer until he was looming over you, the scent of his cologne and the leather jacket enveloping you, “I heard the words you used. You told them I was like a puppy, someone who trips over his own feet. You told them I drink banana milk because I can’t handle coffee and that I have a twelve-step skincare routine. You made me sound like an incompetent child, Y/N.”
You could not believe it—all this crying, the heartbreak stemmed from you defending him? And he took it in the worst way possible, as if his mind could not admit you would love him the way he is, and formed a thought process that did irrevocable damage to both you and him.
“I said those things in a good light,” you screamed back, your own heart hammering against your ribs, “I called you sweet because I thought you were! I didn’t know your ego was so fragile that you’d rather be seen as a villain than a person who actually cares about things!”
This conversation was not going the way you both had intended—anger taking over and ruling all the other feelings out, yet none of you were ready to back down.
“It’s not about ego!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrists, pinning them against his chest so you could feel the violent, erratic rhythm of his heart, “It’s about the fact that I’ve been sitting in this room for days trying to be a man you’d actually desire, only to find out that you look at me with pity, you made me feel like I wasn’t even an option for you—just a clumsy loser you had fun to be around.”
“So you decided to punish me instead of talking to me normally?”
“Yeah, just like you forgot all about me the second Jaemin came into your life.”
“Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?” Your throat hurt with all the yelling, and you couldn’t even back down, not when he was so close to you, “fine, if you don’t want that to happen then stop acting like a coward and actually do something, fight for me, not against me!”
His hand shot out, not to grab your wrist this time, but to grip your chin, forcing your head up so you couldn’t look away—and god he looked so different, but his eyes were the same, sweet and gentle despite the anger, “I dragged you out of there because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having your attention. I’m standing here, wrecking everything, screaming my lungs out because I am fighting, Y/N. I’m fighting the urge to completely lose my mind.”
“Then show me,” you breathed, challenging him, your heart pounding so hard as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, “prove it to me you’re not the harmless boy I defended. Prove to me that you want me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice—he’d waited too long, and he couldn’t say no when you stood there with watery eyes, chest heaving up and down, bottom lip bitten, and Sunghoon swears you look the prettiest you had ever looked. He had gone through myriad scenarios of this happening, none of them involved Sunghoon surging forward with his mouth crashing against yours—which is exactly what happened.
It did not happen with the tentative sweetness of the boy you had defended in the hallway, but with a searing, desperate hunger that tasted of frustration and a few week’s worth of repressed longing. He groaned into the kiss—it felt good, too good as he let his lips convey what he couldn’t, and it wasn’t sweet, it was rather messy and uncoordinated, a collision that felt less like affection and more like a necessity—as if he were trying to breathe you in to keep from suffocating.
You stumbled back, your spine hitting the wood of the door with a dull thud, but he didn’t let up. His hands were everywhere—one tangled tightly in the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to deepen the angle, the other gripping your waist with a bruising possession, anchoring you to him. He was heavy against you, a solid wall of heat and leather, and for a moment, the sheer shock of his intensity froze you, a shiver going down your spine, feeling the frustration radiating off him.
But then the indignation flared—the audacity of him to think he could solve this with physical force had you fighting back. You kissed him back with the same jagged intensity, your hands balling into fists against the lapels of that ridiculous jacket, pushing and pulling all at once. The kiss was an argument in itself, sharp and biting, stripped of any pretense of politeness.
He broke the contact with a ragged gasp, but he didn’t really pull away. He buried his face in the sensitive crook of your neck, his breathing harsh and uneven against your skin, his lips grazing your pulse point, breath warming you up further, especially when he nibbled on your skin. You could feel him trembling—fine tremors running through his frame that betrayed the facade he was trying so hard to maintain.
“I missed you,” he mumbled into your skin, the words thick and slurred, vibrating against your clavicle, “god, I missed you so much it physically hurt.”
It was the vulnerability in his voice—the way it cracked on the confession, stripping away the anger to reveal the desperation underneath—that finally undid you. You could feel the dampness of his eyelashes against your neck, a stark contrast to the aggression of moments before.
“You have a terrible way of showing it, Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice shaking, your hands slowly uncurling from his jacket, moving up to grip his shoulders to keep yourself upright.
“I’ll show you, fuck—i’ll show you everything,” he mumbled, pressing opened mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, making you gasp his name, to which he groaned, “‘m not Sunghoon, call me Hoonie.”
“Fuck—”
“Tell me you missed me—tell me you’re feeling this too,” he hissed, which almost seemed like a plea against your lips—especially with the way he was holding your nape, looking right into your eyes.
“I—I did, Hoonie,” you mumbled against his lips, and he shook his head.
It’s filthy how he leans in to bite your bottom lip, pulling you flush against him with ease, his right thigh settling in between your legs as he did so, making you whine, and he loves the sound, he loves it too fucking much to not pull you into another kiss to absorb each sound you’re giving him so lovingly (at least he thinks so).
“C’mon—say it,” he urged, pulling your lower lip before letting go, a string of saliva connecting you both regardless.
“What happened to you?” You breathed out, knees threatening to give out as you held on to Sunghoon’s shoulder, who only chuckled.
“Did you really think I was a virgin? That I’m someone who can’t make you feel good, hm? As if I hadn’t thought about having you close before,” he leaned in again, and this time, you could see how calm he was, “I’m still the same man—just this time, I’m desperate to please you.”
Your eyes widened, pressing your thighs together only to cage Hoon’s leg harder, shoulders curling in, “Hoonie, you don’t have to—”
“Shh—just be good for me tonight, I really really want to kiss you again.” He couldn’t help but express his feelings, “you look so pretty, so pretty I swear,” he grunts, and he swears it’s intoxicating the way you taste, how he can feel your pulse as he sucks on skin. His lips linger on your neck, sucking gently at the tender skin, drawing out the heat that blooms under his touch. The pull of his mouth is unhurried, deliberate, each drag of his tongue sending a fresh wave of warmth spreading through your veins. You feel the rapid thump of your own pulse against his lips, matching the erratic beat of your heart, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat.
“Say it, baby,” he murmurs.
“I missed you—was waiting for you,” you whined, and he swore, the way you said it sent this insane feeling down his cock—which twitched with need.
One of his hands stays firm at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive grip that grounds you, while the other slides slowly down your side. His palm flattens against your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your shirt, tracing the curve with feather-light pressure. The fabric bunches slightly under his exploration, and you arch into the contact without thinking, a soft whimper escaping as the sensation teases your nipple into a tight peak.
“God, your body responds to me like it’s been waiting,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough, laced with that raw need that's starting to unravel you both. His breath fans hot over the damp spot he’s left on your neck, making you shiver, and he presses closer, his chest rising and falling against yours in sync with your quickening breaths, “thought about this so much—thought about you all the time, fuck! Pretty, yeah just keep your eyes on me.”
You can feel the hard line of his cock straining against the front of his jeans, pressing insistently into your hip as he shifts his weight. It’s a solid reminder of his arousal, thick and unyielding, and the knowledge sends a flush of heat straight to your core, your pussy clenching with empty want—mind still trying to process the situation. Your hands, still clutching his shoulders, slide down tentatively, fingers splaying over the firm planes of his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath the leather jacket. The material is cool and smooth under your palms, juxtaposing the feverish warmth of his body seeping through.
“Thought you got bored of me,” you gasped out.
“Could never—I thought about you each fucking day, each second.”
He groans softly at your touch, the sound vibrating through him and into you, and his hand at your side dips lower, cupping your hip with a squeeze that borders on bruising. His fingers dig into the soft flesh there, kneading slowly, pulling you tighter against him so that his thigh remains wedged firmly between your legs. The pressure against your clothed pussy is maddening—subtle friction that builds with every tiny shift, making your clit ache for more direct contact.
“Hoonie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the mix of lingering frustration and surging desire, your nails scraping lightly over his jacket as you grip him harder. The vulnerability in his earlier confession lingers in the air, softening the edges of your indignation, and now it’s just the two of you, bodies communicating what words can’t quite capture.
He lifts his head from your neck, eyes dark and intense as they meet yours, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper—longing perhaps, or the fear of losing this again. His free hand moves up, cupping your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone before trailing down to trace your jaw, then your throat. The touch is reverent, almost tender, but there’s an undercurrent of hunger in the way his fingers linger, pressing just enough to feel your swallow.
“I need to touch you everywhere,” he confesses, his voice cracking slightly on the words, and before you can respond, his mouth claims yours again. This kiss is slower than the last, exploratory—his tongue sliding against yours in languid strokes, tasting and teasing without the frantic edge. You melt into it, your body going pliant as his hand on your hip ventures bolder, slipping under the hem of your dress to caress the bare skin of your waist.
His palm is soft, and the texture against your smooth skin makes you gasp into the kiss. He takes the opportunity to deepen it, tongue curling around yours as his fingers spread wide, exploring the dip of your waist, the slight curve of your lower back. Each inch he claims feels electric, igniting nerves you didn’t know were so sensitive, and you press your thighs together around his leg, seeking relief from the growing wetness soaking your panties. The friction only heightens the ache, your pussy throbbing with each subtle grind, and he notices—god, he notices everything. A low hum of approval rumbles from his chest, and his hand under your dress inches higher, thumb grazing the edge of your bra. He doesn’t push further yet, just circles the underwire with agonizing slowness, feeling the way your breath stutters, the way your nipple strains against the lace.
“Tell me what you feel,” he pulls back just enough to whisper, forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching your face. His other hand leaves your face to join the first, both now under your dress, palms sliding up your sides in tandem, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits, all while he tries to memorize every inch of you, the most perfect girl for him.
“You—everywhere,” you manage, voice breathy, your hands moving to his waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt to feel the heat of his skin, “your hands—it’s too much and not enough, i need you, baby.” The confession spills out, raw and honest, mirroring his earlier vulnerability, and it seems to spur him on.
He chuckles softly once he’s done groaning cause—fuck, he’s been waiting to hear that, to have you to him. And finally, his big, veiny hands cup your breasts fully, squeezing with a firm pressure that has you moaning into his mouth as he kisses you again. His thumbs flick over your nipples through the bra, back and forth, hardening them further until they're aching points of need. The groping is thorough, unhurried—he kneads the soft flesh, feeling their weight in his palms, rolling them gently as if memorizing every curve.
“So the girls were right—ah,” you whine.
“No,” he breathed out, “I’m like this just for you, just because of you.”
Your hips rock against his thigh instinctively, the seam of your panties rubbing against your clit, and the spark of pleasure makes you clench around nothing, arousal trickling down your thighs. He feels the movement, presses his leg harder to encourage it, his own cock twitching against you in response. The air between you thickens with the scent of your combined arousal, heavy and intoxicating, and his kisses trail back to your neck, nipping lightly as his hands continue their worship.
“So responsive,” he breathes, one hand slipping around to your back, fingers working at the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. It gives with a soft snap, and he wastes no time pushing the straps down your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cool air. Goosebumps prickle your skin, but his mouth is there immediately, hot and wet, latching onto one nipple while his hand covers the other, “fucking pretty—all fucking mine.”
He sucks gently at first, tongue swirling around the peak, teeth grazing just enough to send jolts straight to your core. Your pussy pulses with each pull of his mouth, wetness seeping further, and you thread your fingers into his hair, holding him close. The feelings crash over you—the possessiveness in his grip, the desperation in his touches, the way his body trembles slightly against yours, betraying how much he needs this reconnection as much as you do.
“Seems like you have a lot of experience,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere.
He smirked against you, “is my baby jealous?”
“No—fuck,” you whined as he let his free hand roams lower again, palming your ass through your panties, squeezing the cheek hard enough to make you gasp. He kneads it slowly, pulling you tighter against his thigh, guiding your movements as you grind, the friction building that sweet, torturous pressure, “that’s it, feel how much I want you, only you,” he murmurs against your breast, voice muffled, before switching sides, giving the other nipple the same devoted attention, and fucking hell—he was in love with you, absolutely there to hear each sound you make and every movement of your body in response to him.
Every touch, every grope, layers the intimacy, stripping away the walls between you, leaving only the raw, aching need to be closer, to feel more.
He pulls back from your breast with a wet pop, his eyes dark and feral as they lock onto yours, “get on the bed, baby. Now,” he growls, voice thick with command, and you stumble back with him, legs shaky from the grinding, your soaked panties clinging to your pussy lips as he shoves you toward the mattress. You hit the soft sheets on your back, bra discarded somewhere on the floor, tits bouncing free.
His body follows, crashing over yours, knees pinning your thighs apart. Those veiny hands dive straight for your naked tits (which he seemed to love, especially wanting to mark them), squeezing hard—fingers digging into the soft flesh, thumbs crushing your nipples until you arch and cry out, “fuck, these tits are so perfect,” he mutters, leaning down to bite one peak sharp enough to sting, his fangs sinking in while his tongue flicks the tip. Pain mixes with heat, shooting straight to your clit, and you buck under him, pussy clenching empty and desperate, repeating his name as you find yourself wetter than ever, and he had barely touched you—you really fucking needed him.
His fingers press deep into your skin, bruising your waist as he kneads them like he owns every inch—because he does, tonight, tomorrow, always, all him to ravage, “you love this, don’t you? Watching me go crazy over you, fuck,” he rasps against your skin, breath hot, his free hand sliding down to grip your hip, nails scraping.
Your hips jerk up anyway, grinding your drenched panties against his thigh, the fabric sodden now, rubbing your swollen clit with every desperate roll. Wetness seeps through, coating his jeans, and you feel his cock twitch hard against your side, “yeah, keep going, doing so fucking well for me, c’mon, rub yourself before I lose it and fuck you dumb,” he taunts, pressing his thigh firmer into your pussy, forcing the friction deeper. You moan loud, fingers clawing at his shoulders, the ache building fast, your core pulsing with slick heat.
“Please—Hoonie, you’re insane,” you mumbled, biting his shoulder to conceal your moans, “want you, I’ve always wanted you.”
He chuckles dark despite the way he felt butterflies in his abdomen, cause god, he literally fell for you at first sight, only to truly fall for you with each passing interaction. And now? He wanted to show you exactly how good he can make you feel—leaning in low, shoving your legs wider with his knee, “enough teasing. I want that dripping cunt bare and pretty for me.” His hands hook into your panties, yanking them down rough, the elastic snapping against your thighs before he rips them off completely, tossing them aside. Cool air hits your exposed pussy, lips puffy and glistening, arousal dripping down to the bed sheet. He spreads you wide, knees hooking under yours, thumbs parting your folds to stare at your slick hole, eyes shining, “fuck—look at this messy pussy, begging for my tongue, all fucking mine, yeah?”
Before you can gasp, his head dives between your legs, mouth latching onto your cunt like a starving man, licking a stripe from your hole up to your clit before going down again. His tongue thrusts deep inside, fucking your hole with wet, urgent strokes, lapping up your juices as they flood out. You scream, back bowing off the bed, hands fisting the sheets while he devours you—sucking your clit hard, then plunging back in, tongue curling against your walls, “taste so fucking good, all wet and ready for me,” he groans into your pussy, vibrations humming through you, his stubble scraping your inner thighs raw.
“God—”
“No god, just me,” he groaned against you.
He eats you out relentlessly, nose bumping your clit as his tongue spears deeper, slurping noisily at your folds. Fingers join in, two thick ones shoving into your pussy alongside his tongue, stretching you, pumping hard while he bites your labia lightly, tugging. Your hips buck wild, grinding into his face, soaking his chin with your cum, “that’s it, fuck my mouth—come all over it,” he demands, voice muffled but commanding, free hand reaching up to pinch your nipple again, twisting until tears prick your eyes.
“God—feels so good, ah—slow down—”
Pleasure coils tight in your gut, his dominance flooding you—the way he holds you open, owns your body with every rough lick and thrust. He pulls back just enough to spit on your clit, rubbing it in with his thumb before diving back, tongue flicking fast, fingers curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars, “stop? Oh baby—you’re mine to fuck, mine to eat, gonna make this pussy squirt before I ram my cock in, yeah? Gonna claim you, make you forget about anyone else who had you before me,” his words hit like slaps, so very dirty and possessive, pushing you closer to the edge.
You bit your lip, trying to rile him up even further, “you sure you can—ah!”
He slapped your cunt, making you arch off the mattress, making you cry, moans turning to pleas, his mouth working you harder, rougher—sucking your clit like he’s trying to bruise it, tongue fucking your hole until your thighs quake around his head. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up, just dominates your pleasure, drawing out every drop of slick, every shudder. The room reverberates with the wet sounds of his feast, your cries echoing, bodies slick with sweat and need. But he’s not done—far from it, his cock grinding against the mattress now, hungry for more than just your taste.
“Sure I can, and I will.” Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he felt so feral, perhaps never before, perhaps this was just for you, and he didn’t mind especially when you were spread out so pretty for him, reacting to every bit of him, he fucking loved it—he loved you. He grabs your hips suddenly, dragging you back down the bed with a rough yank, your ass sliding over the sheets as he positions you right where he wants—legs splayed wide, pussy exposed and dripping onto the mattress. His big, veiny hands clamp onto your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh to spread your soaking slit wide open, folds parting with a wet schlick, your clit throbbing in the cool air
“Stay fucking still, baby,” he snarls, eyes locked on your glistening hole, arousal leaking out in thick strings. Before you can catch your breath, his head drops again, mouth crashing against your cunt like he’s starving for it.
His tongue buries deep inside you in one brutal thrust, spearing into your walls, lapping up the fresh flood of juices with savage hunger. He sucks hard on your inner folds, pulling them into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to sting while his tongue flicks wildly against your entrance. The suction pulls at your core, making your pussy clench around nothing, and you cry out, hips jerking up to grind against his face. Slurping sounds fill the room, obscene and wet, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin raw as he devours you deeper, nose pressing into your clit with every forceful lick.
“This cunt’s mine, hm? Gonna eat it till you can’t walk, gonna show you how sorry I am,” he mutters right into your slit, the vibration rumbling through your nerves, sending shocks up your spine, “sorry, baby. Sorry my pretty girl—hm, so fucking sorry. You’re mine and I’m not fucking sorry about that.”
You arch off the bed, fingers twisting in his silky hair, pulling him closer even as the intensity borders on too much. His tongue thrusts in and out, curling to scoop out more of your slick, swallowing it down with greedy gulps, sucking your clit between his lips and biting down lightly, making you scream. Pleasure-pain explodes, your thighs trembling around his head, but he pins you harder, dominance radiating from every rough movement—owning your body, forcing ecstasy on you whether you can take it or not.
Without warning, he shoves two thick fingers inside you, knuckles deep in one brutal push, stretching your walls wide around the intrusion. Your pussy grips them tight, sucking him in as he starts pumping fast—curling and twisting, slamming against that spot inside that makes your vision go blur.
“Fuck, so tight and wet—good fucking girl, stay this way, hm?” He rasps, mouth still latched on your clit, sucking hard while his fingers piston in and out, the wet squelch echoing with every thrust. Juices coat his hand, dripping down to soak the sheets, and you buck wildly, the stretch burning sweet as he adds a third finger, scissoring them to open you up more.
“Fucking crazy, what happened to clumsy Hoon?” You breathed.
“Gone for now.”
His cock throbs hard against your thigh now, the thick length straining through his pants, hot and leaking pre-cum that smears sticky on your skin. He grinds it there deliberately, humping your leg like an animal in heat while he finger-bangs you relentlessly, thumb circling your clit in rough swirls.
“Feel that? My dick’s aching to split you open, but first I’m gonna make this pussy gush all over my face, need to taste you,” he keeps on mumbling against you, voice muffled against your folds, breath hot and ragged.
You drown in the raw lust, moans spilling loud and broken from your lips, every nerve firing as he devours you deeper. The pressure builds unbearable, your hips rolling desperately into his mouth, chasing the edge as waves of heat crash through you. Sweat slicks both your bodies, the air thick with the musk of sex—your arousal, his sweat. You claw at the sheets, thighs shaking, the dominance in his grip holding you down as pleasure rips you apart.
“Can’t anymore, please—”
“Come on, pretty girl, cum on my tongue, let me taste you,” he demands, voice gravelly, tongue flicking your clit one last time before sealing his lips around it, humming low to vibrate through your core.
The orgasm hits you like crazy, your walls clenching hard around his fingers, gushing slick that he laps up hungrily, not missing a drop. You thrash and sob, body convulsing under his relentless ministrations, but even as the aftershocks ripple, he keeps pumping slow now, drawing it out, his cock still grinding insistently against your thigh, and you wondered what happened to the clumsy boy you knew, and why was he a fucking beast in bed for real—not knowing how he wasn’t really sure himself, just drunk in your essence probably? Or too fucking adamant to make you feel good, prove something even though you wanted him regardless.
“That’s one—now I’m gonna fuck you raw till you beg for me to stop.”
Well—fuck. He was too good at this, cause you were left speechless, staring at how spent he looked, pulling back just enough to meet your dazed eyes, lips shiny with your juices, hunger far from sated, and eyes darker than ever—he looked insanely hot.
Sunghoon’s gaze holds yours captive, that predatory glint in his eyes sending fresh shivers racing down your spine. His lips curve into a smirk, wicked and knowing, as he wipes a stray bead of your essence from his chin with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact. The air between you crackles, thick with the scent of sex and sweat, your breaths mingling in the charged space. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers inside you, the way they curled just right, coaxing every last tremor from your core. But he’s not done—not by a long shot. That insistent press of his cock against your thigh grows bolder, the heat of it branding your skin, a silent vow of what’s to come.
“Speechless already?” He teases, his voice a husky rumble that vibrates through your chest. He leans in closer, his nose brushing yours in an almost tender gesture, a stark contrast to the feral hunger etched on his face, “I thought you wanted me to show you exactly how much I want you, hm? Will you be satisfied when I’m buried in deep?” His words drip with challenge, laced with that raw affection you’ve always known from him—the clumsy stumbles, the shy smiles—but twisted now into something intoxicatingly dominant.
You swallow hard, your throat dry despite the slick mess between your legs. The room spins a little, your body still humming from the high, but his proximity grounds you, pulls you back into the moment, “Hoonie—” you manage, your voice a breathy whisper, fingers twitching at your sides as if unsure whether to push him away or pull him in. The old him flickers in your mind—the boy who tripped over his own feet during movie nights, who blushed when your hands brushed accidentally. How had he transformed? It was like unleashing a storm you’d never seen brewing.
He chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your collarbone as he trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, savoring the salt of your skin, “yeah? Say my name like that again when I’m fucking you senseless.”
His hand slides up your thigh, possessive and unhurried, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks—reminders that you’ll feel tomorrow, a secret map of this night. He stopped just for a minute, and you watched him take off his pants and boxers in a go, your eyes widening in process as you watched him undress, the dim lights accentuating every inch of him—even the ones you wondered whether you’ll be able to handle or not.
He hooks your leg over his hip, opening you up further, the tip of his cock now teasing your entrance, slick with your arousal and his own pre-cum. The anticipation builds like a slow fuse, every shallow nudge sending sparks skittering through your nerves.
“Please,” you murmur, the word escaping before you can stop it, your hips arching instinctively toward him. It’s not begging—not yet—but it’s close, the vulnerability cracking through your haze. You want to unravel him too, to see that beast roar, but god, the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing anchoring him—it makes your heart clench alongside the ache low in your belly.
Sunghoon pauses, his breath hitching, eyes softening for a fraction of a second as he searches your face. There’s that tenderness again, peeking through the cracks of his intensity—a silent question, a check-in amid the storm, “you okay, baby?” He asks, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hip. It’s so him, this blend of fire and care, and it only makes you want him more.
“More than good,” you reply, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his damp hair, tugging lightly to bring his mouth back to yours. The kiss starts soft, exploratory, lips brushing like a shared secret, but it ignites quickly, tongues tangling with renewed urgency. You taste yourself on him, musky and intimate, and it fuels the fire, your free hand roaming down his chest, nails scraping over the ridges of his abs.
He groans into your mouth, the sound raw and needy, breaking the kiss to nip at your lower lip, “fuck, Y/N—you drive me crazy. Always have.” With that admission hanging between you, he shifts his hips, the head of his cock pressing insistently now, parting your folds with deliberate slowness. Inch by torturous inch, he sinks into you and it takes a while, leaving the room with reverberations of your moans and groans as you accommodate to his size, the stretch burning sweetly, your walls yielding to his thickness. You gasp against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sound, but he doesn’t let you hide—his hand cups the back of your neck, forcing your eyes to meet his as he bottoms out, fully sheathed.
“Look at me,” he demands, though his voice wavers with the effort of holding still, letting you adjust, “feel how perfect you are? Made for this—for me.”His forehead rests against yours, breaths syncing in the intimate cocoon of your bodies. The fullness is overwhelming, every pulse of him echoing through you, but it’s the emotion in his stare that hits hardest—the need of wanting you. Lovers entangled in a way that feels inevitable.
You nod, words failing as you clench around him experimentally, drawing a hiss from his lips, “Sunghoon—move. Please, I need—”
“I know what you need, baby,” he cuts in, voice strained, and then he’s moving—slow at first, a languid roll of his hips that grinds against that spot inside you, building the tension like embers catching flame. Each thrust is measured, deep, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls, the friction sparking pleasure that coils tighter with every pass. His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit with unerring accuracy, circling in time with his rhythm.
“Like that?” He murmurs, lips ghosting your ear, his free arm wrapping around your waist to hold you flush against him. The position is intimate, chest to chest, hearts pounding in tandem, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he picks up speed, hips snapping forward with increasing force. The wet sounds of your joining fill the room, obscene and arousing, mingling with your shared moans.
“Yes—god, yes,” you cry out, head falling back as the pleasure mounts, your nails digging into his shoulders for purchase.
“No baby, say my name,” he chuckles when you do so on repeat, and he’s relentless now, the beast fully unleashed, pounding into you with a ferocity that borders on punishing, yet every so often he slows, grinding deep, whispering praises that melt your bones, “so tight—so wet for me. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you, love? Milk my cock until I can’t hold back.”
The words push you higher, your body responding with a flood of heat, slick coating him as you chase the edge. You can feel him everywhere—his sweat-slicked skin sliding against yours, the musky scent of him overwhelming your senses, the way his breath stutters when you squeeze around him. It’s raw, but threaded with that emotional undercurrent, the clumsy boy proving himself not through words, but through this worship of your body.
“Sunghoon, I’m—fuck, I’m close,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the coil snaps taut. He senses it, angles his hips just right, thumb pressing harder on your clit, and the world fractures. Your orgasm crashes over you, fiercer than the last, walls fluttering wildly around him as you sob his name, body arching in ecstasy. Stars burst behind your eyelids, pleasure radiating from your core in endless waves.
He doesn’t stop, riding it out with you, his thrusts erratic now as your release triggers his own, “that’s it, baby—cum on me. Fuck, you feel so good—”
With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep one final time, spilling hot inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. His body shudders against yours, arms tightening like a vice, as if afraid you’ll slip away in the haze, in awe of how you clenched harder, squirting all over his cock and abdomen, which is something you had never really done before.
For a long moment, you stay locked together, breaths ragged, the afterglow wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, murmuring nonsense words of adoration, “you’re incredible,” he breathes.
He watches you staring at him with your pretty eyes, and now, he feels shy, yet not ready enough to part ways, so he settles with hiding his pretty face in your neck, trying to be impossibly close to you, licking the spots he’d marked earlier, making you giggle slightly, his own smile blooming when he hears that, and somehow, everything feels right again. With you playing with his hair, he giggles, and the switch up in his demeanour amuses you, because the fiercely jealous guy who dragged you out of the party had entirely melted back into the sweet boy you’d been missing for weeks.
“You’re like two different people, Hoonie,” you whisper, your fingers gently detangling the dark strands at the nape of his neck.
He hums a low, contended sound that vibrates against your skin. He shifts his weight, wrapping his arms even more securely around your waist to pull you flush against him, as if he’s terrified you might still disappear if he loosens his grip.
“I’m just me,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. Slowly, he lifts his head. His cheeks are dusted with a pretty, shy pink flush, and his dark eyes are incredibly soft, completely devoid of the panic or anger that had clouded them earlier. He looks at you with a vulnerability that makes your breath hitch.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, Y/N,” he confesses, his thumbs gently stroking the sides of your waist. He swallows hard, “I was so desperate for you to see me as a man you could desire, not just some harmless puppy you felt sorry for. I—I actually looked up a guide.”
You blink, your hands stilling in his hair, “a guide?”
Sunghoon groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as if trying to hide from his own embarrassment, “WikiHow,” he mumbles, “how to flirt with a pretty girl, uh—with pictures.”
The room goes completely silent for a second. You stare down at the top of his dark head, your brain struggling to process the information.
“Wait,” you breathe out, the pieces suddenly snapping together in your mind, “the staring contest at the pub during trivia night?”
“Step one: Make eye contact,” he grumbles miserably.
“The voice note asking me to get boba, and then immediately inviting Jake and Jay?”
“I panicked because the guide said not to come on too strong. I used them as human shields.”
A massive, overwhelming swarm of butterflies suddenly erupts in your stomach. The guy who looks like he belongs on a runway, was secretly reading step-by-step internet articles because he was so nervous around you. It is the most endearingly pathetic, incredibly sweet thing you have ever heard in your entire life. You can’t help it—a laugh bubbles up in your chest, bright and genuine.
Sunghoon flinches slightly, his grip tightening, “don’t laugh at me,” he whines, sounding exactly like a babie, “Jake and Heeseung already found it on my laptop and roasted me for it. It was humiliating.”
“Hoonie,” you laugh softly, cupping his face and forcing him to look up at you. His eyes are wide and entirely unguarded, “you didn’t need any of that. The steps didn’t make me like you—you made me like you.”
He searches your face, clearly searching for any trace of pity, but only finding absolute adoration, “really?”
“Really,” you promise, your thumbs brushing over his sharp cheekbones, “I didn’t fall for the guy trying to be a smooth, mysterious flirt. I fell for the guy who fought the doorframe and lost, the guy who shared his umbrella in the rain, and the guy who sang Disney songs with me in the park. You never needed a guide, Sunghoon, I wanted you.”
A beautiful, relieved smile breaks across his face, the one that reaches his eyes and shows off his cute fangs. He leans into your touch, completely melting into your space, “I like you so much it makes my brain short-circuit,” he breathes out, his forehead resting against yours, “I’m entirely, hopelessly down bad for you, Y/N.”
“I really really like you too, you puppy,” you whisper, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips as he whined, making your eyes wide, “oh you’re into that—”
“Uh—i’ll get you some water,” he panicked, getting up, cock slipping out of you, and entirely forgetting about the clothes sprawled all over the floor, which made him yelp as he fell down.
You laughed freely, cause gosh, you really were falling for this man. Grabbing his leather jacket, you wore it as he tried to hide himself with embarrassment. It was a stupid choice to get up when your legs were not stable, because it resulted in you wobbling and falling right over hoon, the jacket doing nothing to hide your body, pressed against his so perfectly. Now, it was his turn to chuckle as he grabbed a strand of your hair, kissing it sweetly.
“Damn, was i that good?” He smirked, clearly loving the way you were hiding your face in his neck now.
“Oh shut up, puppy,” you mumbled, and he held on to you tighter.
“Well—this puppy isn’t done with you. C’mon baby, let me help you shower.”
Safe to say, you did much more than just showering, and even though exhaustion took over, sleep wasn’t something you entertained, pecking each other sweetly all night, acting clingier than ever, and honestly?
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
MEANWHILE:
Jay rattled the handle one more time, putting his shoulder into it just to be absolutely sure. He slowly turned his head to look at Jake and Heeseung in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway.
“He locked it,” Jay said, his voice completely flat.
Jake pressed his forehead against the heavy wood door, looking genuinely heartbroken, “you’ve got to be kidding me—tell me you’re kidding. My bed is in there, Jay, my toothbrush, my entire life.”
“I don’t care about your toothbrush, Jake,” Jay snapped, rubbing his temples, “I care about the fact that we are currently homeless because Sunghoon final-fucking-ly figured out how to flirt.”
Heeseung didn’t even argue, he had already accepted his fate, sliding down the wall until he hit the floor. He lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the sky, “I planned this,” I muttered, “I planned the whole party with Beomgyu, and my reward is the floor.”
Down the hall, Jungwon and Karina stepped out, stopping dead in their tracks as they took in the tragic scene. Jungwon let out a loud snort, crossing his arms, “wow, look at this sad display. You guys look pathetic.”
Heeseung immediately sat up, he scrambled over to Karina, looking up at her with giant, desperate eyes, “Karina please, have mercy.”
Karina took a step back, “what are you doing?”
“Y/N’s bed is empty,” Heeseung pleaded, “i’m a great houseguest. I will literally buy your coffee for a week—do not leave me out here in the hallway with them.”
Karina looked down at Heeseung, then over at Jay and Jake, who were staring at her like abandoned stray dogs. She let out a long, suffering sigh, “fine, get up. Heeseung, you can take Y/N’s bed. But just you.”
“Bless you,” Heeseung whispered, jumping up and sprinting before she could change her mind.
Jungwon shook his head as they all made your way towards their dorm, looking entirely too amused as he walked over to unlock his own bedroom door down the hall, “well, good luck on the carpet, you two. Build a fort or something.”
He turned the key and pushed his door open. But the second the lock clicked, Jay and Jake exchanged a single, desperate look. Pure survival instincts kicked in, and no words were needed. Before Jungwon could even step inside, Jay and Jake shoved past him, rushing into the room like they were escaping a burning building.
“Hey! What the—” Jungwon yelled, spinning around.
It was too late. Jake was already laid across Jungwon’s mattress like a starfish, pulling the duvet up to his chin, while Jay wedged himself against the wall side of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily to fake being asleep.
“You can’t kick us out!” Jake screamed, hair disheveled.
“I’m asleep!” Jay announced loudly, “so deep in sleep.”
Jungwon stood in the doorway of his own bedroom, staring at the two fully grown men currently occupying his mattress. He looked at Jake’s death grip on the blanket. He looked at Jay, who was very clearly peeking with one eye. The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds.
Jungwon just let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, slowly reaching over and grabbing a single throw pillow off his desk chair, and turned on his heel.
“I hate all of you,” Jungwon muttered flatly, dragging his feet out into the living room to sleep on the couch.
! warnings : sub!heeseung masturbation (m) power dynamics overstimulation edging nipple play biting choking face slapping dacryphilia praise kink degrading kink voyeurism kink use of vibrators oral (f receiving) face sitting hickeys riding spit play creampie unprotected sex (don’t do this) pet names: slut whore good boy baby pretty boy
═══════ 'pretty boy had it coming the moment he walked into the cafe'
11:58 PM. 2 minutes before closing.
On a slow Wednesday night, nobody would come to the cafe.
You adjusted your apron before leaning against the wall where the light switches were. Always quick to turn off the lobby lights on time.
You didn’t serve overtime. Didn’t make exceptions. Didn’t get paid enough to care.
Dozing off on an empty plate placed on one of the tables, thinking about how’d you have to wash it later, you were disturbed by the soft jingle of the front door.
You sighed, tilting your head with practiced annoyance already set in your posture. You narrowed your eyes, before you stilled them.
Before coming to realization, it was him.
The soft lavender hair caught your attention first. Damp at the ends due to the light rain outside. He looked rushed, slightly out of breath as he walked in.
He stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him, much too loud in the emptiness of the café.
For a split second, he looked startled to see you looking straight at him. Then he masked his expression, putting on a soft smile. You didn’t buy it for a second, he definitely looked nervous.
Your hand reached up, feeling the outline of the switch right before you flicked the door sign’s light off. You didn’t turn off the lobby lights, not yet.
You maintained eye contact throughout, watching as his soft smile slightly dropped in realization.
Cute.
Then he spoke. A bit too soft.
“Are you closed..?” he was now playing with the string on his puffer jacket.
Your gaze landed down on his figure, then back up. He caught the look.
You smiled politely before answering, “I can make an exception” . It was discreet enough to pass as professional, just a nice employee. Right?
But the way you looked at him, stoic with a soft smile, made him believe that there might just be a small hint of something else.
He tightened the grip on the string he was holding tightly now. He nodded before walking closer to the counter. Now he saw you up close.
You were beautiful, the dimmed lights of the cafe casting a warm glow on your features.
It almost made you look unreal. He was caught up on the way your lashes cast a shadow on your cheeks, how pretty your lips were, the way they curved upwards.
You didn’t need to analyze him, you knew his features like a well memorized book.
Even how pretty he looked naked.
-
You hadn’t meant to find him.
It had been a pop-up ad on a slow night, one careless click after a long shift, a blurred thumbnail you tried to close immediately. It loaded a website, when your hazy eyes adjusted to the soft nude coloring to the actual page, you rushed to exit the whole app itself.
Almost.
But then the screen had clicked on something else, it loaded another screen.
And there he was, the camera angled on the bed. His shirt off, grey coloured sweat pants begging to be removed. He was leant in, reading the chat.
So soft-spoken.
Eyes all pretty, voice low and gentle as he listened to their requests. His obedience was written in the way he waited for instructions, the way his breath caught when he got to the lustful praises.
“Thank you…” his lips curved upwards with a small hue of pink across his cheeks.
You hadn’t spoken in the chat. Not once.
You just watched.
At first it was curiosity. Then routine. Then something quieter and heavier that settled in your chest night after night.
You weren’t the type to touch yourself to streams, to be tuning in to every schedule after a long day. But you did.
You didn’t blame yourself. It was as if your type was written to existence.
Pretty, a gentle voice, the way his eyes looked at the camera. The curve of his lips. He was taller than you, for sure.
And the best of it all. Submissive.
You’ve been around for sure. Been with many men, even women. Exploring your sexuality, what things you’re into. Your kinks.
The most memorable one was your ex, who unfortunately broke up with you because you weren’t feminine enough for him?
Feminine enough? When you confronted him about it, he said it wasn’t you physically.
Fuck, you were gorgeous, physically.
“It’s not even that— It’s the way you act!” his voice had cracked when he said it. Frustrated. Small.
You were leant back on the dining chair of your own living room. He even came over to your own apartment to break up with you? What an asshole.
“The way I act?” you’d repeated calmly.
“You’re always so—” He’d struggled for the word, hands raking through his hair. “So in control. You don’t soften. You don’t need me. I feel like I’m the one being… handled.”
You held back a laugh, he noticed it. “See! Even right now you’re not crying, like most females. You’re fucking laughing instead.”
‘Females’ Is he serious? You didn’t know you signed up to date a mysogynistic in disguise.
What, like the next thing you know he’ll probably tell you to make a sandwich or something.
“So you want someone small. Someone who lets you pretend you’re bigger than you are.” you stated casually.
His jaw clenched. Weakly.
“I don’t like dating insecure guys. Especially ones with fragile masculinity. You can go now, Glad we’re over.”
Then he walked out, defeated.
Well. Definitely not softening up for a guy.
Why are men so scared of being taken care of these days ?
Lee Heeseung wasn’t like that.
You learned his tells without ever meeting him. The way his cheeks flushed, the way his lips parted when he was uncertain, the way his voice softened when he followed directions.
You learned his face at night, in shadows and low light.
Months passed like that.
He never knew you, though.
Not yet.
-
You held back a smirk before you broke the silence, “What would you like to order?”
He nervously glanced up at the menu. Without even reading it, he listed the first thing that you’d usually order in a café.
“A latte, thanks,” He said calmly, managing to steady himself.
“Extra cream.” he glanced at the menu again, before back down at you, “If that’s alright.”
“Of course,” you said while entering his order on the tab. “You always seem to like it that way.”
The words were light. Casual.
But something in him stiffened, there’s no way she knows.
Being on the leaderboard on that website, he’d been recognized around 2 to 3 times in public. Mostly in parties, and mostly, by men.
He assumed he was just being paranoid. “I—yeah.”
Before he could muster the courage to say anything more, you turned to face the machine, its gentle whir filling the silence between you. He was trapped in the warm embrace of the café with you.
The rain continued to pour relentlessly against the windows.
He watched you without meaning to, the way you moved around smoothly. How precise your fingers were, how fast they—
Alright, Heeseung.
He adjusted his throat before looking away. The small noise caught your attention, though you didn’t turn around. Not yet. Even if the drink was almost finished.
One last touch.
You bent over slightly, grabbing the cream off the far end of the counter. He caught the movement from his peripheral vision, but didn’t glance back. Not until you turned around.
Now you walked towards him with both hands occupied, the latte in one hand, and the cream dispenser in the other.
“Tell me how much I should fill it up, hm?” You said looking straight at him, before placing down the latte and pouring the cream in slowly.
He swallowed. Cafes didn’t usually customize the drinks.
Maybe she’s just being extra thoughtful, he’s the last customer anyways.
You eyes trailed down from the plastic cup, to his legs, he was nervously tapping his feet.
“I think that’s good,” He said, a bit too rushed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah..”
You twisted the cap of the dispenser close, a bit too clumsily. On purpose.
A little dripped down your index finger, Heeseung noticed it.
Bringing it up to your lips, you let your tongue swipe it away. Savouring the sweet flavour of it in your mouth as you look directly at him.
He watches for a second too long, then drops his gaze back down to the latte.
You then glance back at the cup, “Right, the lid. One second.”
Handing it back to him with a slight teasing glint in your eyes, you watch as he mutters a thank you before debating on walking right out.
He does anyway.
The rain seemed to have slowed, likely stopping in a few moments. You watched as he slowly walked towards the lobby door.
You leaned a hand on the counter, watching the way his throat bobbed the moment he realized you were still looking at him. He stopped at the door, hand hovering over the handle, knuckles pale from how tightly he held the drink.
He was still tapping his feet.
Does he have social anxiety? I didn’t even do anything…yet.
When the rain seemed to have calmed, in under a minute, he finally walked out.
He stepped out into the cool air, the soft drizzle speckling his jacket. The door swung shut behind him with a muted thud.
He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Then glanced down.
On the cup read: Heeseung :)
His stomach dropped, he hadn’t said his name. Not once.
So she knew.
-
The dim light flickered on, the one with a soft purple hew he liked using for his streams. He slightly adjusted his hair on the monitor, taking a deep breath.
He never went live this late, especially past midnight. But the caffeine he had earlier was giving him an extra energy boost, and he’d hate to disappoint his viewers by missing today’s.
Usually he’d watch, or even read suggestive content, to turn himself on. Tonight, he didn’t have to, not at all. The earlier encounter at the cafe left with his heart slightly fluttering, and his dick…excited for sure.
He was still conflicted on whether you knew about his internet persona, or maybe you were an old classmate who he couldn’t seem to recognize.
Though really, who’d forget a face like yours.
He was running on excuses, maybe she is a viewer after all. Your confidence was still lingering on the back of his mind as he finally turned the live option on.
Everyone's awake huh? It rose to his usual viewer count, maybe doing lives this late wasn’t too bad after all.
Comments flooded in.
He smiled automatically, eyes skimming usernames he recognized, shoulders loosening as the familiar rhythm settled in. Hearts, explicit greetings, people surprised he was live this late.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice a little lower than usual. “Couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about you.”
His niche was speaking to the camera directly as if he’s talking to the viewer themselves. Made them feel more turned on, more into it.
Fanservice was a skill, and Heeseung had mastered it.
“I was out earlier, maybe the caffeine is keeping me up.” he paused to read some of the chat.
[angelskbby]: awe dont be up this late
[loveforhee]: you’re already hard?
He blushed softly, looking away and back with a little smile. Then he leant back and spread his legs even further. The clear outline of his dick bulging through his sweatpants was evident on display for everybody to see..
“I’ve been so needy lately,” He rubbed himself through his sweats, then glanced down at the replies again.
A username he hadn’t seen before.
[23caff]: how was the latte?
Heeseung’s smile stalled.
Not dropped, just… paused. Like his face hadn’t gotten the memo yet.
He reread it once. Then slower, trying to remember if he had ever mentioned the specific drink.
Latte.
He didn’t.
His fingers tightened slightly in his lap.
“Oh,” he let out a small breathy laugh, “It was…really good.”
Chat reacted normally. Someone teased him for being shy. Someone else asked him to strip.
He ignored the suggestive comments for once, he never did that.
Never broke submission.
[23caff]: you looked pretty tonight
Not look, but looked.
He didn’t know who you were.
But somewhere between the glow of the purple light and the steady rise and fall of his breath, he realized something unsettling.
He didn’t need to.
The girl at the cafe.
The chat was confused, confused why he wasn’t getting into the main part of the stream. Instead he was talking to a specific viewer, who was saying random things.
He didn’t care, it was as if for a moment. It was just him and you.
[23caff]: you styled your hair, it looks nicer
Something about the way you typed, you never gave too much away. But he knew exactly what you were referring to.
After having to rush through the rainy streets, he entered and left the cafe with damp hair. Now here he appears with it freshly blown out. Wispy bangs framing his face just right.
The white button up cardigan he had changed into, exposing his dainty collarbones.
Your compliments were so normal, so pure. He felt like a pervert by getting turned on by just a few words.
He rubbed himself softly, discreetly, trying to get rid of the ache. Even if he’d be jerking himself off later anyway.
It was as if his eyes only focused on your user, and yours only.
[23caff]: the cardigan looks soft, it’d look better undone.
His breath hitched, for a moment he returned back to talking to the viewers.
“I should probably take all my clothes off right.. You’d want that won't you?” His tone went unnoticed by the viewers, his niche masking the fact that he was talking to you.
And you only.
He slowly removed the buttons one by one, until the smooth plane of his chest came to sight. He ran his hands on his bare chest, caressing his hardened peaks slowly.
He twisted his nipples, rubbing softly with desire. He moaned softly as his stomach knotted into intense pleasure.
“Wish you were here..”
[23caff]: do you?
“Yeah..”
[23caff]: so needy
“F-fuck..”
He slowly lifted his hips enough to slide his sweats off, hard length springing out immediately.
The cool air of his room made him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you watching. The other viewers were a forgotten audience, this was a private show where you were the only one on his mind.
He wrapped a hand around his cock, whimpering at the contact. He was so sensitive.
He gave it a tentative squeeze, pre-cum beading at the slit which he smeared using his thumb.
[23caff]: never said you could touch yourself
His hand froze. He’d been so eager, so desperate to feel something. Even he was confused at his own submission.
“I’m sorry..”
[lustssfire]: ?
[angelskbby]: whys he apologizing lmao
He almost rolled his eyes at the other replies.
[23caff]: so hard when all you’ve done is listen to me. you like knowing i’m watching?
He let out a choked moan, his head falling back against the chair.
The memory of your gaze, the way you’d licked the cream off your finger, flashed through his mind. It was so much more intense now, knowing you were seeing him like this.
“Let..let me”
[23caff]: let you what? use your words
“I’m so hard it hurts.”
He’d never sounded this needy. Ever. So when the viewers saw him begging all submissive like this, they went crazy with the donations.
The pace of the chat made him unable to actually read any replies. In the haze of his own state, he just stared at himself.
Your username wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
He watched himself laid back on his setup. Legs spread, face flushed, hand stilling on his leaking cock. He couldn’t wait anymore, he needed to cum.
It was a pathetic scene, impatient strokes as he tried to chase his orgasm. It seemed easier this time, he didn’t even need material to get off to.
Knowing you were watching.
Throwing his head back, his body was tense. His orgasm was building, on the edge of release. Heeseung’s hand moved faster, desperately.
[23caff]: drag it out
And he did. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he was forced to comply. Though he was doing this on his own will, obeying you.
His hand now moved slower, thumb brushing over his slit to hold himself back. Breathing heaving as he bit down on his plush bottom lip.
“Mmh..”
[23caff]: you’re doing so good
Heeseung fell apart immediately and cried out in a gasp as he reached orgasm, his soft abs coated in his cum.
As the last tremors of his release subsided, Heeseung's body slumped back against the pillows, his chest heaving with ragged breaths that echoed through the stream.
His lavender hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and the dim glow of his room lights caught the glistening trails of his cum across stomach.
“I made a mess..” He whispered brokenly.
The ruin in his voice made the chat go insane.
[heespecial: man i just came so hard
[lustsssdevil]: that was so hot
[lv4femboys]: can you keep whimpering i’m close
“You like it when I whimper?” He said shyly, a hint of playfulness. He messily thrusted a finger in his mouth, tasting his release.
+200 xx
+700 xx
+1200 xx
Money in the form of ‘xx’ currency collected as he was nearing the stream. He usually ended the stream with a small goodbye.
He leaned forward, fingers hovering over his mouse.
Then her message appeared.
[23caff]: I'll make an exception past midnight next time.
His breath stuttered.
He ended the stream without saying goodbye.
-
He was silent for minutes after the stream ended, staring up at the ceiling.
The purple light still glowed faintly. His computer screen had now gone dark, reflecting his own flushed face back at him, dazed eyes motioning that he was sleepy.
I'll make an exception past midnight next time.
The words replayed in his head, not as text but as a voice.
Yours.
He felt like he was going insane, was it really just a coincidence? Maybe she meant past midnight because he streamed late tonight. Just a kind viewer?
It wouldn’t be because he came past closing. Definitely not.
He swallowed, finally reaching for a towel. His hands felt clumsy now, stripped of the permission he’d been floating on minutes ago.
He stood up pacing around his room in realization.
That wasn’t how viewers talked.
Not really.
Not unless they meant something else.
His chest tightened.
I mean, why would it even matter if it was really her? He couldn’t understand himself for caring too much. He’d gotten recognized before, but this time it was as if getting recognized was the scariest thing in the world.
Was it because he was attracted to you? Maybe because you were the most beautiful he had laid eyes on. Maybe because his heart flustered the moment he walked in.
But the latte comment in the chat couldn't be a coincidence.
Neither had the way you’d looked at him at the cafe, like you already understood something he was still pretending not to.
Going back would be stupid.
It was across town, he’d only been there after running an errand and caught walking into a random cafe to avoid getting soaked by the rain.
If he went back and you were just a barista, he’d live on.
Whatever I guess.
Rolling his eyes at the way you said ‘Next time.’
Like it was already decided? As if.
-
Now he stood across the street, judging himself for driving halfway across town at midnight the next day to take the chance.
“This is so..” He sighed at himself.
What did he even want from this?
He blinked as the open sign of your cafe dimmed.
See… maybe it was kind of decided? He wanted to take the chance.
Ding.
11:58 pm
2 minutes before closing.
It was a quiet Thursday night, until he walked in.
The silence remained, but it turned into something much louder. And unspoken.
You didn’t look up immediately. You were faced away, restocking something for the next day. Though something in you knew who exactly it was, you didn’t turn around just yet.
You could recognize his soft guarded steps. Now he was right in front of the counter.
Didn’t say a word. He just stood there and glanced at you.
When you finally turned around, you didn’t say anything. Your expression didn’t change much.
But his chest still constricted.
Lavender hair again. This time it was dry and carefully styled. He wore the same cardigan he wore on last night’s live. He chose it on purpose. It wasn’t meant to spark recognition, hell he knew you’d recognize him anyway.
He wanted the choice to speak words he wouldn’t, not yet. Only because he wasn’t sure.
You looked past him, towards the door. “Two minutes,” you said softly.
“Yeah. I— I know.”
She said she was going to make an exception though ?
Did he really have it all wrong?
You stepped forward, your fingers hovering over the register. “Latte, extra cream?”
He bit his inner cheek, “…Yeah.”
“You can stay. It's raining hard.” You said while ringing the same order in.
I'm also hard…
He mentally cursed at himself for his thoughts, but thanked himself for not accidentally saying it out loud.
He watched the way you moved like you weren’t noticing that any of this is weird. Like last night never happened. Like you hadn’t gone to witness him unwind to purple lighting.
Your face showed no expression.
Is she even human..
When you slid the cup towards him, your fingers touched his.
He sucked in a breath before he could catch himself.
You noticed too. Of course you did. But you didn’t say anything.
“You look tired,” you said.
He swallowed. “ Didn’t sleep much.”
“Mm.” You leaned your hip against the counter. “Late night?”
His ears were burning.
“Something like that.”
You turned your head just slightly. Studied him. Like you were making a decision.
Finally, you spoke. Softly, “You don’t usually come back to places you regret.”
“Regret?” He repeated softly. It wasn’t in a questioned tone, more of a restatement. Like he wanted you to speak further.
You simply stared at him, not giving him the upper hand. You weren’t going to explain yourself.
“I don’t regret it,” he finally said, lifting his eyes to yours this time. “I just… don’t usually go back unless I’m sure.”
You toyed with him, making him really doubt himself.
“Sure of what?” You asked with a smile.
He was close to just quitting. Are you rage baiting him or something?
“So if it’s not you,” he said quietly, “you wouldn’t mind me asking, right?”
You shrug. “Asking what?”
He almost let out a groan, but held back.
Breaking the silence after a few seconds, he asked, “If you were watching me. Last night.”
“Yeah? You came to the cafe, of course I watched.”
“That’s not what I mea–” He tried to begin before you cut him off.
“What’re you even on about?” You giggle softly, now leaning over the counter.
His heart fluttered. He couldn’t take it, “Please..” He whispered softly, looking down at his coffee.
You finally smirked softly, “The stream, Heeseung?”
His breath stuttered.
He didn’t look up right away. Couldn’t at all. His grip tightened around the cup like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
You slightly lean over the counter and lift his chin up with your index, he complies.
His eyebrows raised up at the front, giving him a vulnerable look. The higher floor behind the counter made you taller. It made him look slightly up at you, you absolutely loved it.
You glance at his parted lips and back up, “Your face is flushed.”
He let out a shaky breath, this was humiliating. The worst position he’s been in, and he hates himself for liking it.
For liking the way he feels so exposed in front of you. You’ve seen it all, he’s seen nothing.
“...How long?”
“How long what?” You retract your hand when he finally looks straight at you.
“How long have you been watching?”
You didn’t answer him just yet, admiring the way his eyebrows contort into an expression that makes him look needy.
Like a neglected hamster.
“You’re pretty.”
That caught him off guard, but he still managed to compose himself. Surprisingly.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“A few months”
He swallowed. Not knowing what to say after this. It’s not like he could just ask you for your feedback. It wasn’t like his streams were normal streams. They were porn.
The rain showered harder. The cafe grew quieter. What didn’t change was your expression.
Fuck you and your pretty eyes, he thought. He couldn’t seem to look away, not when caught under your gaze.
“Your latte’s getting cold,” You glanced down.
Then he realised the position, he’d been standing in front of the counter for god knows how long.
-
You roll your eyes as you watch him sit at the farthest seat from the counter, facing away from you.
Sitting on his latte looking out at the thundering rain. Looking oh so peaceful.
Is he serious?
I mean, he didn’t owe you anything anyway. So what if you watched him, the world kept spinning. But his reaction didn’t satisfy you enough. You usually got what you wanted, and in his moment…
You wanted him.
And now he looks at you with slightly widened eyes as you take a seat across from him.
You simply lean forward on your elbows, face supported with the palm of your hand.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah..” he says quietly.
The only reason why he was still here was because he ached for the same thing.
You.
How pretty you looked in that tight apron, the way it hugged your figure so nicely.
The way his fucking boner also throbbed against his jeans, not so nicely.
He wasn’t even trying to avoid you taking a seat this far, he just couldn’t be caught with a damn boner in the middle of the cafe.
A place like this? Is he a pervert?
Pretty ironic given the situation either way.
As he brought his hand up again to sip on his now lukewarm latte, his cardigan slightly strayed from his collarbone.
Now it revealed the daintyness of his right collarbone, material holding on by dear life just to stay on his shoulder.
You reached forward, not to touch him—but to hook a finger under the strap of his cardigan, testing.
Waiting.
He didn’t move away.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he confessed, voice low, raw in the dim light.
You tilted your head, studying him like this. No camera. No chat. Just his pretty face in the dimmed lights.
“I want you,” you said simply. “Right now, I want you to stop thinking.”
His eyes fluttered shut for half a second. When they opened again, they were darker. Unsure. Willing.
“Here?” he asked.
“My room. Upstairs.”
Just convenient.
-
Heeseung lets out a soft groan as his back hits the shut door. He had never been handled by a girl like this, but god was he loving it.
He looks down at you with an aching need, your hands already snaking underneath his shirt.
“If you don’t want it, we don’t have to,” You whisper softly as you still your hand around his waist.
“I do…” He bites his lip shyly.
You reach up, lips now on his neck. Sucking a red hickey. You decided you’d tease him till he starts begging for it, not kissing his parted lips just yet.
He whimpers softly, almost like a question. It spoke words he knew he didn’t have to say out loud: Please kiss me?
You take in the sight of him, he looks so beautiful. Lavender hair fanning out messily. His lips red from biting and cheeks flushed from the intimacy. You couldn’t resist the temptation to lean up and finally kiss him, savouring the taste of the latte on his tongue.
His lips were softer than they looked, yielding under yours with a desperate sigh that you swallowed whole. He tasted of coffee and a sweetness that was entirely his own, and you drank it in, one hand tangling in his hair while the other gripped his waist, pulling him flush against you.
The position would usually be the opposite wouldn’t it? But there's something exhilarating about dominating a man that could have his way with you but chooses not to.
It’s so your type.
He was hard, you felt it when you pressed your body flush against him. A movement that made him whimper into your mouth, a sound so broken and needy it sent a jolt straight through you.
“So needy,” You look up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. "All this time, putting on a show for everyone, but about when you’re all alone? You’re so shy you can’t even use your words."
"Please," he finally murmered out, hands coming up to grip your shoulders, not to push you away, but to hold on.
"Please what, Heeseung?" You nipped at his collarbone, right where the cardigan had slipped off his shoulder. You used your hand to slowly take each button off, savoring the time. "Use your words. You were so good at it last night on stream.”
"I’m so hard, because of you." He finally says, if you could see properly in the dim lights, you'd be able to see his ears turning a pretty shade of pink.
“Mhm? I knew the whole time. It was obvious Hee, the way you crossed your legs when you sat,” When his cardigan finally fell off, you didn’t waste a second palming one of his pretty nipples.
Rolling it between your thumb and forefinger, and his whole body jerked.
"Ah!" he cried out, his back arching off the door. "Fuck, that feels—"
"Good?" you finished his sentence, your other hand drifting down to the button of his jeans. "I know, baby."
You popped the button open and slowly slid the zipper down, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. You palmed him through his underwear, feeling the damp spot where he’d already leaked pre-cum.
He was so responsive, so beautifully sensitive.
“Tell me what you want,” You were now teasing his tip through his underwear.
Heeseung grinded his hips against your hand, seeking more of the touch. He was rock hard now, “You..” He breathed.
“But I’m here already? More direct baby.”
He was trying not to whine out in response, he hated the teasing. Though it turned him on at the same time.
You smirk, pulling your hands away from him. Now you were inches further away, while he was leaning his back on the door.
Heeseung looked down, confused at the loss of contact. He watched as you turned around and leant for a remote. The dull room that was illuminated by moonlight was now replaced with soft purple lighting.
He paused. Recognizing the same hue as the one he uses during his streams. Something in him felt more confident, familiar. Is this why you turned it on? Some kind of mind psychology.
He mindlessly followed behind you, hands snaking around your waist.
Heeseung then pressed his hardness against your ass, head resting on the crook of your shoulder, pressing soft kisses on your neck.
You didn’t flinch, didn’t move at all actually. “This colour gets you in the mood? Muscle memory huh?”
Heeseung slowly retracted his hands as you turned around to face him. He was excited.
Not getting a moment to speak as you took his hand and pushed him on his back on your queen sized bed, he grunted in response.
“Sit up straight. Boxers off. Face me,” You said as you slid your uniform shirt off, sitting on the edge of the bed.
You held back a groan at how fast he sat up seeing you, practically ripping off his boxers as he tossed them to the other side of his room. He was completely bare, leaning back against the headboard.
Free reign, you could do anything you wanted with him.
"So pretty like this, maybe I should tie you up and take a few pictures." You couldn’t hold back the smile that took over your face when he whimpered at you, shaking his head.
He's here because he wants to be, he wants you to have control over him. You crawl and sit between his legs, using your nails to tease the inside of his thighs, chuckling softly when he throws his head back and whines.
"Touch me [name]...I'll be so good" the tone of his voice as he says your name sends a shiver down your spine, you try not to press your thighs together.
"But I am touching you." The teasing never stops.
"P-please, I’ve been thinking about it ever since my stream."
You take in a sharp breath, hearing him beg is turning you on more than you thought it would.
“I know. Putting on a show just for me last night hm?’ You let your hands wander his chest again. He was reactive, and you took advantage of that.
“For you [name]. Only for you.”
Those words cut through any ounce of resistance you had.
He’s going to be left a mess, pretty boy had it coming the moment he walked into the cafe.
Your mouth was everywhere—sucking hickeys onto his collarbones, biting at his pretty ears, swallowing his moans with searing kisses.
“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?,” You stated, as your mouth reached down to capture Heeseung’s nipple.
Sucking and biting, using your hand to massage the other one sensually, you knew where the other was responsive. Thanks to all those streams.
“Please.. Ah- Fuck,” Heeseung’s squirmed under the touch, his back arching as his eyes rolled back. Blood rushed to his dick again as you teased his nipples with your tongue, flicking and biting down passionately.
His nipples were now tender, every graze of your tongue sending electric shocks straight to his crotch.
You looked down at him with no intention of being gentle, wanting to overstimulate him to the brim. He’s probably a pretty crier, he’d be prettier all marked up.
You looked down at him with no intention of being gentle, wanting to overstimulate him to the brim. He was such a pretty crier, he’d be prettier all marked up.
A choked sob escaped his throat as you gave his other nipple the same treatment. A soft suck followed by a sharp bite. Then you healed the pain with your tongue, hearing as he releases the breath he was holding just to realise you’d be hurting him again.
His mind was a blank slate of static.
“So slutty, you’re moaning at the pain.”
“M’not..”
The weight of your body on his was making him feel so many things.
He’d been in this position. Yeah, many times.
But had never been handled by a pretty girl like this. He was becoming a mess and somehow, he fucking loved it. Craved every single touch that you just seemed to know exactly where to land. He knew it was from you watching his streams, and he enjoyed that fact.
You’ve seen him all exposed, touching himself, reacting honestly, touching himself where he knows he feels good.
But it was also a curse at the same time. He had very sensitive nipples, and your actions spoke louder than anything you said. You knew, of course you did.
Of course you loved the way he broke underneath you with the prettiest moans, soft gasps as your clothed knee grinds against his bare dick.
And he tells you he likes it, by chasing your touch, chest arching, dick grinding against your knee.
God, she’s even better than I imagined.
The thought was a repeating whisper in the back of his mind. Too good. Maybe too good.
“[Name]..” He gasps out.
He was always in control, at least of his own reactions. He performed submission. But this was real. He wasn't performing, he was crumbling.
You pulled back, admiring your work. His chest was decorated with a hue of red and purple, his nipples tender and glistening.
Heeseung looked back up at you with half lidded eyes, hands grasping out to grope your tits through your bra.
"Look at you," you smirked, your voice a low hum that vibrated through his chest.
"Already ruined and I barely even touched you." You finally sit back to slide your trousers off.
Black lacy panties. They matched the mesh bra you had on. You were prepared.
You reached over to your nightstand, the drawer sliding open silently. His eyes, dazed and half-lidded, followed your movements with a primal sense of dread. When you pulled out a sleek, silver vibrator, his breath hitched.
Heeseung's heart hammered against his ribs.
He used toys, of course. It was part of the job. But they were tools, props for an audience. He had never used it with another person, better yet, had a girl use it on him.
This felt different. This felt like a weapon.
"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, knowing already. It wasn’t for you, it was for him.
You smiled, it made his stomach clench.
"Ruin you." You clicked it on, and a low, steady buzz filled the room. The sound was a promise of the torment to come. You didn't touch him where it mattered right away.
Instead you let the cool metal ghost over his inner thigh, watching him twitch and whimper at the proximity.
The humiliation was a bitter pill, but one he found himself swallowing with a strange hunger.
It took everything in him not to just to flip the position and fuck that smirk off your face, but he just couldn’t. It felt too good.
"You're such a slut for this, aren't you, Heeseung? Getting paid to let people watch you cum. But what about this? When you have no control over your fucking orgasm."
The words were a slap, sharp and degrading, and he cried out, it was a desperate sound.
He whispered out your name. It instantly made you wet. How could it not? Pretty boy in a mess underneath you letting you have your way with him.
Fuck, you were in heaven.
"Please what?" you pressed the flat head of the vibrator against the base of his dick. He jolted, his hips bucking off the bed as a strangled moan tore from his throat. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" You moved it up, tracing the long curve of his dick.
You knew he was big already, but seeing it in person made you wonder if you could fit him all in. He was definitely the biggest you’ve had. Literally perfection.
"Don't stop," tears welled to his eyes, his hands fisting the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Please, don't stop." He was gone. All that remained was the need.
Your breathing stilled for a second, a sadistic glint in your eyes as you see him turn his head away due to humiliation from crying. Oh he was finally breaking, and you were going to enjoy it.
Every. Single. Moment.
"Eyes on me." You slapped his tilt head, making him face you again. His soft gasp followed by widened eyes.
Was he seriously surprised?
“I’m not nice, Hee,” You stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You—”
Shutting him up again by pressing the vibrator directly against the base of his cock. He screamed, his whole body bowing off the bed as the intense vibrations shot through him.
His cock, already leaking and flushed red, twitched violently against his stomach. You watched him, mesmerized by the way he lost all composure.
The camboy persona was gone, replaced by the needy boy who was completely at your mercy.
Your own arousal was a hot, heavy pulse between your legs, a demanding ache that needed to be satisfied as you grinded your wetness on his thigh.
Grabbing his face almost violently, you stared down right at his eyes that became even more teary-eyed.
“Say ah~” Your thumb and index finger pressed together tightly, almost rushing him into opening his mouth.
Spit.
He swallowed immediately, almost as if on reflex, “F-fuck you.”
“You wanted something in that pretty mouth so bad hm?” You didn’t let him speak before lazily thrusting two fingers down his throat.
“You’ll take it down well, remember when your slutty throat took that dildo right down like it was nothing?”
‘Mmph–!”
You pulled your fingers out, wiping it on his hickey covered chest.
“You want something even better baby?”
Almost like he knew exactly what you were referring to, he nodded softly. “Let me taste you, please.”
“Awe, so desperate.” You said as you unhooked your bra, panties following.
He stared at your pretty cunt and perky tits like he was seeing a diamond up close. Hands automatically grabbing each side of your hip as you move them forward, hovering over his face.
You lowered yourself onto his waiting mouth.
The first touch of his tongue was hesitant, a soft, exploratory flick against your clit. It sent a jolt through you, and you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling him closer. "Don't be shy, Heeseung. Look at how wet you made me."
That was all the encouragement he needed. His tongue became more confident, lapping at your folds with a desperate hunger. He was moaning into you, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up your spine.
His messy mouth working against you was so focused. He was worshipping you with his mouth, trying to communicate everything he couldn't say.
"So good," you gasped, grinding your hips against his face.
The praises made him do better than what he initially was.
"M-mhm. Such a good boy with your mouth. You look so pretty like this, covered in me."
“You’re so good with your tongue.”
And the best of it all
“Good boy.”
Then he went crazier than ever. His soft moan vibrated around your pussy as his tongue was stuck deep inside you.
You began to ride his face in earnest, using his nose and chin to rub against your clit as his tongue fucked into you.
He was completely at your mercy, his world narrowed to the taste and feel of you, the sound of your voice praising and degrading him in equal measure.
"Getting off on this. On being used. This is what you wanted, wasn't it?” you felt your release close.
But you weren’t going to come just yet. You liked edging yourself as well, a girls gotta do what she likes.
He whimpered at the loss of contact, now you sat on his chest.
"Look at me," you commanded. He forced his eyes open, his gaze hazy and unfocused. "I'm going to fuck you now, and you're not going to cum until I say so. Understand?"
He nodded frantically, his lip caught between his teeth. "Yes... yes, I understand." The thought of holding back was terrifying, but disobeying you was worse. It hadn’t been long, and he was already under your control.
"Cute." You sank down onto him in one smooth motion, both of you crying out at the sensation. He filled you perfectly, stretching you in a way that made your own head spin. You paused for a moment, giving yourself a second to adjust. He felt bigger at the stretch, bigger than what he looked like.
You rolled your hips, slow and deep at first, building a rhythm that had him gasping for air. Every time you lifted up, you'd grind your clit against his pubic bone. You took him balls deep in, and it took everything in him not to become a moaning mess.
He could feel the orgasm rebuilding, a feeling that he fought it with everything he had.
“No, hold it back.”
His hands flew to your hips, his grip desperate as he tried to anchor himself. "I can't... I can't hold it," he sobbed, his voice breaking. "Let me cum. Please, baby, I'm so close." The pet name slipped out, a testament to his utter surrender.
Something fluttered inside you with the way he said baby. So desperate. Screaming permission.
You bounced on his cock, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. You brought your free hand down, squeezing his throat.
Heeseung’s eyes rolled back as he reached his hand to hold your hand shortening his breath.
The sharp sting in his eyes made him cry out, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sending him spiraling. "Then come."
The humiliation was the final push. With a broken scream, his body seized, his back arching as he came, hard and long, spilling inside you. The pulsing of his cock against your walls sent you over the edge with him, your own orgasm crashing through you as you clenched around him. Your hands around his throat sliding off as you rebalanced yourself
Heeseung looked up with concern in his eyes, you knew why.
“On the pill.”
In relief, his hands moved to caress your waist, “You’re so pretty,” He said with a soft voice.
Hm, he thinks I’m done?
But you didn't stop. You lifted off and clicked the vibrator beside him back to life. Keeping the vibrator pressed against his now oversensitive dick. He thrashed beneath you, his pleas turning into raw sobs.
"Too much! It's too much! Please, stop! I can't!" He was babbling now, mind too hazy to even comprehend thoughts.
“I..Fuckk– There.. Can’t!”
“Dumb slut, can’t even form a simple phrase.” You said mockingly.
He hated but loved how cruel you were, even though it was torturous at this moment.
"You can," you said, your voice firm. "And you will."
His tears dripped down like honey. His face looked like sex.
Sex.
Flushed. Eyes hazy, decorated with tears. Lips wet from licking them, or maybe even the wetness of your pussy. Hair messy.
And his voice, raspy. It’d be so sore tomorrow, he wouldn’t be able to stream. To be able to strip, to be able to answer any questions regarding his marked up chest or the glow on his face after the best fuck he’d pronably gotten in his life.
He was completely broken, and he'd never looked more beautiful. And he was everything.
Finally, with a shuddering gasp, he came again. You tossed the vibrator away and swallowed his moan with a deep kiss, body collapsing onto his. The room was silent except for the sound of the rain and both of yours’ ragged breathing.
“[Name]...”
For a long moment, you just lay there, feeling his heart hammering against your chest. Peppering his cheek with soft kisses, a non verbal sorry for the treatment.
“Took it so well, baby.” You press a final soft kiss to his cheek before moving up to lay beside him.
Heeseung grunted as he turned to face you, tucking a hair strand behind your ear. You smiled softly at the touch
Your hair was also a mess, but he was looking at you with such raw, unguarded adoration that it made your chest ache.
So he’s clingy after sex, cute.
The dominant persona melted away, replaced by a wave of fierce tenderness. This was the part you craved, the aftermath. The quiet intimacy that was more potent than any orgasm.
You shifted, lying down beside him and pulling him into your arms. He came willingly, burying his face in your neck and clinging to you like he was afraid you'd disappear. He was still shaking, his body wracked with occasional tremors.
"Shh," you murmured, stroking his hair gently. "I've got you." Your voice was soft, a stark contrast to the harsh words from moments before.
“Did you know?” he asked quietly.
You didn’t answer right away. You studied his face.
“I knew you’d come back,” you finally said.
His chest tightened. “How did you k—”
You cut him off,
“Because you already did.”
═══ aaaaand with that drops my debut fic ~
took crazy inspo from this edit , camboy!hee is soooooo
═ i had so much fun writing sub!heeseung , there's been a drought for him on this app . also not proofread , excuse any spellings !
═ i'd definitely love to hear your thoughts and don't forget , requests are always open.
SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.
PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader
GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff
TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!
FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton
WC ⸻ 17.5k
PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain
MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.
There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it.
Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing.
He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face.
His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth.
At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father.
At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving.
For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death.
Eventually, they got close. Really close.
Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day.
3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all.
Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.
He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later.
Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him.
That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left.
…
It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too.
Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot.
“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand.
A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced.
“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention.
It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best.
“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips.
“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited.
“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles.
Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.
You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around.
He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him.
“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife.
The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do.
Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now.
The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you.
“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note.
He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an ‘Alright’.
Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you.
“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me”
Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone.
“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic.
He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact.
Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here.
He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying.
“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer.
It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods.
Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask”
You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively.
“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French! You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments.
You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad.
“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side.
You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again.
Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what.
Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt.
The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch)
Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him.
“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.
…
Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action.
You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”
He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room.
You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note).
You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really.
And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest.
You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number.
…
He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open.
Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying.
Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note.
Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you.
“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too.
“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer.
“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug.
“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face.
“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief.
You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it.
“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern.
Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure.
Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either.
“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back.
You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance.
“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers.
Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests.
There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father?
“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment.
He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left”
Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless.
Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously”
“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples.
“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition.
It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close.
“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence.
You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”
“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles.
Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris”
____
Shortly after, Jay returned to France.
You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you.
You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you.
You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked.
You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were.
He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied.
“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings.
You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense.
New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare.
“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it”
Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time.
“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay”
___
Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say.
Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name”
A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?).
You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself.
At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for.
Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it.
Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy.
And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you.
In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live.
It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home.
For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it.
At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food.
Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't.
What shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind.
Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in.
“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural.
You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey”
He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.
You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action.
“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved.
You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen.
“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you.
“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile.
“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head.
He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him.
“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add.
He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually.
“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again.
You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.
Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true.
Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no.
_____
Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer.
Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here.
To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name.
The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him.
Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day.
“Wait here” Jay said when you entered the living room.
He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you”
“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you.
“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall.
“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes.
“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting.
You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else”
You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words.
Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure.
That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again.
Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it.
Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes.
You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on
the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven.
“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books.
He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all”
“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book.
“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you.
Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark.
“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face.
“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale.
Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you.
You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious.
He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying.
It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?”
You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different.
“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him.
His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up.
“You’re like really depressing and unromantic”
He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still, watching you.
“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way.
Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet.
But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single.
“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes.
“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing.
He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after”
You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit.
It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day.
He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.
“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass.
You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall.
You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind.
“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious.
“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner.
Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you.
The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further.
He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.
“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same.
It’s only been two days. Where did it come from?
“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle.
Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy.
“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is.
You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table.
“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it.
Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone.
He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong.
_____
It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed.
The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience.
You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf.
French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature.
Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island.
“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him.
He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has.
“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous.
“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even.
You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable.
“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling.
“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head.
It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose.
Were you?
“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone.
“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close.
A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time.
“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out.
He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much”
Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea.
You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart.
‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble.
His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments.
He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful.
“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia.
His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise.
And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen.
He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too.
“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you.
“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips.
“Older” you correct, too deliberately.
It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't.
He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all.
Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true.
He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too.
“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink.
“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always.
It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close.
You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room.
Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter.
Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then.
____
Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed.
Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly).
You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake.
So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does.
It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want.
Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.
At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen.
One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world.
He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet.
He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night.
“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board.
“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter.
His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him.
Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head.
“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home.
“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you.
He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him.
“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons.
With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction.
“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say.
“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you.
“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good.
Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him.
After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would.
“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her”
Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?”
Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you.
Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off.
____
“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep.
It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely.
In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder.
Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”, as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now.
Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk.
To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments.
And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door.
The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno.
He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t.
Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable.
Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face.
You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you.
“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea.
Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to.
“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words.
Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice
Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you. It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his.
The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough.
You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is.
“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care.
“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.
He nods, pursing his lips together.
When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel.
Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.
And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either.
Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all.
“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention.
A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself.
So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling.
You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it.
Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.
He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start.
For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake.
You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?”
He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?”
“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him.
He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this.
It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling.
The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement.
“You should go to sleep” he swallows.
His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to.
“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you.
This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door.
“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question.
Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much.
He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face.
The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring.
________
On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times.
Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to.
Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still, he’d watch his friend on stage every time.
“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant.
Tonight is also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress.
“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now.
It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind.
“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion.
He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way.
You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all.
“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long.
“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels.
“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin.
“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing.
Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.
Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass.
Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same.
“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it.
And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever.
Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do.
You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course.
The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him.
Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment.
Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly.
Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though.
You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him.
“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher.
“Am I?” you breathe out.
His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”
You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin.
He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening.
Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even.
You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants.
Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him.
He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily”
You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.
______
For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.
You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was. She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed.
Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news.
Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister, complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed.
Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him.
“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through.
It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life.
He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can.
Right now, you couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to.
“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious.
He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him.
“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body.
You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well.
He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice almost makes it sound true.
You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened.
“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion.
“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night.
“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it.
The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it.
So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones.
You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from.
Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable?
“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk.
Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.
He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you.
It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch.
It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world.
With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm.
Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight.
As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap.
He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand.
Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about. “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened.
Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he?
“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question, making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief.
Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses.
He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic.
She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate”
Oh, Valérie. Isn't it?
After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere.
From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this.
It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine.
It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore.
He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker.
“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice.
He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life.
He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace.
“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply.
“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him.
“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city).
There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least.
You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips “I miss you”.
There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all.
Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer. He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him.
Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you.
You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more.
“I miss you too, sweetheart”
_____
A week later, you were back in France.
You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning.
He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks.
Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”
Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that.
All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend.
You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that.
It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree.
“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed.
By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him.
He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other.
“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway.
You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile.
“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod.
“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick.
Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you.
He swallows, and nods, knowing he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother.
You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it.
He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him.
You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed.
“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry.
Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned.
He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it.
His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him.
And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter.
He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”
Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak.
Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer.
“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it.
Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?”
“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned.
He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt. He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat.
Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me”
Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off.
He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer?
“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you.
And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder.
Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open.
He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay”
And so he does.
____
3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month.
He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction.
Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free.
Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home.
Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy.
You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely.
But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be.
Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs.
The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion.
And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get.
He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment.
With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words.
Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly.
His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in.
You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office.
“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden.
“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.
“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't.
Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious.
“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly.
Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would.
“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock.
“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.
With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form.
He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.
With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length.
You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body.
You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that.
As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings.
Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button.
“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?”
You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound.
A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..”
Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable.
But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker.
“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though.
“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness.
You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances.
Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend.
But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.
